Grasping his head and lifting it, she covered his mouth in a kiss that spoke of every shade of carnal knowledge, sending a shock wave of need through him. Slowly, ever so slowly, she shifted against him, and Murphy inhaled sharply, his pulse running thicker. He locked his arms around her, unable to stop himself from thrusting up against her.
The skirt of her dress was wadded up, and desperate to feel her bare skin, he ran his hand up the outside of her thigh, his heart stalling out when he realized she had nothing on underneath. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip as she shifted her hips in the most provocative way. “I was waiting for you,” she breathed unevenly.
Murphy nearly lost it right there, and he twisted his head away and locked his jaw, fresh perspiration breaking out on his forehead. But Jordan was having nothing of his restraint. She found his mouth again and, placing her feet on the floor, she raised herself up and fumbled with the snap on his jeans.
His breathing loud and jagged, he grasped her hand. “Let me get—”
“No,” she murmured against his mouth. “You don’t need to. I’m safe.”
Murphy tried to think through the fevered haze in his mind. He had never gone without protection with her. Ever. And the thought of being totally naked inside her made his universe tilt at a dangerous angle. Putting his hands on her waist to lift her away, he felt her fingers touch the hard heat of him, and he groaned and involuntarily shifted his hips as she freed him. And right then, he couldn’t have pulled back, no matter what. He grimaced and went rigid in an agony of pleasure as she slowly, so slowly impaled herself on him. The feel of her, tight and moist around him, sent him whirling into a senseless soaring darkness, and all he knew was that she surrounded him.
He wasn’t sure afterward how come they hadn’t broken the damned chair, and he wanted to laugh as he cradled her spent body against him. She was wound around him—arms, legs, body—with her face pressed against his. Feeling a little as though he had been pulled inside out, he hugged her tight, just feeling so damned good.
He ran one hand up the back of her neck, giving her another hard hug. “God. No wonder I like coming home.”
She laughed against his neck, pinching his shoulder. “I do what I can to make you happy.”
No, you don’t, he thought, his expression turning sober. You still don’t let me past your defenses.
Feeling like a heel for thinking that now, he forced himself to shut off those kinds of thoughts, and he turned his head and kissed her shoulder. “So. Do you have any more events planned for this evening?”
She chuckled and gave him a squeeze. “This isn’t track and field, Munroe.”
“Damn.”
Relaxing her hold, she leaned back and looked at him, and the brightness in her eyes made his heart contract. She just looked so alive, so full of life. And so beautiful. He had wrecked her neat French braid, and there were wisps of hair against her face. With infinite tenderness, he carefully smoothed the loose tendrils back. God, but he did not want to lose this woman. Catching her head, he urged her down and gave her one more kiss, trying to tell her, without saying so aloud, how much he needed her in his life.
Wanting to avoid any more somber thoughts, Murphy made up his mind he was not going to climb on that blues train. Instead of thinking about the gray areas in their relationship, he was going to focus on the bright ones. Whoever had coined the phrase Live For Today must have had a woman like Jordan in his life.
They actually had a real sit-down dinner, with all the fixings and with the knife blades turned in and the dessert spoon centered perfectly above the plate. Jordan had made a beef Stroganoff that was head and shoulders above any he’d ever eaten, and he told her so. She waved his acclamation off, but she had that pleased, self-satisfied look on her face when he had his third helping.
When the baby woke up, they moved out onto the terrace and sat in the warm autumn sunshine while she fed him, catching up on each other’s days. He gave J.J. his bath while she indulged in a long soak in her bathroom, then with their son napping on the Baba Blankie on the floor, they watched a documentary on TV. It wasn’t as if they did anything special; it was just family, and Murphy stored up every minute.
The documentary finished at nine, and they both ended up in the kitchen. Murphy commandeered what was left of the dessert, and Jordan was making herself a cup of herbal tea—which he knew she detested. Amusement tugging at his mouth, he watched the distasteful expression around her mouth as she poured boiling water over the tea bag she’d dropped in the mug. The sacrifices nursing mothers made.
The phone rang, and giving the mug a disgusted look, Jordan picked up the portable that was lying on the counter. She pressed the connect button, shifting the mouthpiece closer. “Hello.”
An odd look crossed her face and her tone was suddenly crisp. “Just a moment.” Then she shoved the phone at Murphy. “It’s for you.”
He gave her a what’s-your-problem? frown, then put the phone to his ear. It was Taffy Valenti, the interior decorator he used for show homes and for client consultations. She was married to Marco’s cousin—hence the name ending in a vowel. Murphy had known her for a very long time.
“Hi, Taffy. What’s up?”
“Just my damned blood pressure. God, sometimes I think all suppliers should be stuffed into a crate and dropped in the Florida Everglades.”
Rocking back in his chair, Murphy grinned. “Yeah? You’re such a hardhearted woman.”
As the interior decorator explained her problem with a flooring supplier, Murphy happened to glance over toward the counter just as Jordan dumped the herbal tea down the drain. And she had a look on her face that he had never seen before. With her chin in the air, she headed toward the hallway, and Murphy let his chair rock forward, planting all four legs on the floor. What in hell was that about? She looked—miffed. A funny feeling started unfolding in his belly, and he shook his head. Nah, couldn’t be. But a slow grin worked its way loose. Well, maybe.
He concluded his conversation with Taffy, set the phone on the table and headed toward the hallway. This was definitely worth checking out.
J.J. had been spending his nights in the crib the past week, and Jordan had him on the raised mattress; it was apparent she’d just finished putting dry diapers and a fresh pair of sleepers on him. Leaning his shoulder against the door frame, Murphy hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his clean jeans and watched her. He tried to beat down the sudden flicker of hope, but it wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
He knew that she knew he was there, but she didn’t look at him. And from what he could see of her profile, she wasn’t feeling exactly friendly.
He let her stew in her own juice for a moment, then spoke. “Do you want to know who that was?”
She gave J.J. his soother and slammed the safety rail into place. “No.”
Hope flared a little higher, and his pulse picked up speed. “Are you jealous, Jordan?”
She shot him a snippy look, then looked away. “Of course not.”
Murphy’s heart suddenly started beating in double time. She was lying. Jordan Kennedy was lying. Wanting to grab her up and swing her around, Murphy kept his shoulder anchored to the door frame.
“Well, I just want you to know that there’s no reason to be. She runs Valenti Decorating—you must have come across the name in my accounts.”
Jordan still wouldn’t look at him, but the tenseness in her shoulders eased, and her movements weren’t quite so jerky as she very carefully and precisely folded the sleepers she had just taken off J.J.
Murphy watched her, waging a silent now/not-now battle with himself. For some reason, he felt as if he’d suddenly hit a fork in the road, and he had to make a decision. And he had to make it now.
He had known all along there would have to be some sort of confrontation. But he hadn’t expected it to happen like this—he thought it would be something he’d work up to. Build a bridge a bit at a time. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe he had bee
n putting it off too long. And maybe it was just bloody well time. Besides, he was certain Ms. Jordan had just got a poke from the green-eyed monster, and that gave him the kind of optimism he’d never experienced before.
Feeling as if he were stepping out into thin air, he said exactly what had been on his mind for weeks. “That’s something you’ll never have to worry about, darlin’. That I’d ever mess around on you. I know you have your reasons for not trusting anyone, but I think it’s time you put some trust in me.” Knowing he was truly throwing himself into the deep end, he collected himself. “You gotta know I love you, Jordan. And I want us to get married. I want us to make a home for J.J., and I want us to make some more babies down the road. I want it all.”
It was as if every single word were hanging in the sizzling silence between them. She didn’t look at him, but just kept folding and refolding the sleepers.
Tension encased every single one of his muscles, and he waited, his heart jammed up so high in his chest he felt as if it were stuck in his larynx. With a crazy flutter growing in his middle, he took another deep breath and forged on. “I’ve discovered something the past three months. I’ve discovered that I like sharing a home, I like having a family, but most of all, I like feeling married to you.”
Jordan turned, staring at him as if what he said were totally incomprehensible, her face absolutely ashen. It was obvious that she was shaken right down to her shoes, and Murphy understood that. He was feeling pretty damned shaken himself. It took every bit of control he had to stay where he was, knowing that he had, in fact, drawn a line in the sand. Holding her gaze, he spoke again. “I know you’ve been running away from this face-off right from the beginning. I know that. But I also know we can build a good life together.” His gaze deadly sober, he stared at her. “Marry me, Jordan.”
He saw it happen. He saw her pull herself back inside, and a heavy dread started to spread through him.
As if tearing herself away from his gaze, Jordan turned to the change table and began folding diapers. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d just asked her to marry him, and she started folding diapers? For the first time in months, he wanted to grab her and give her a shake.
Her expression fixed, as if this were just a routine conversation, she stacked one folded diaper on top of the pile. Then in the exact same tone she used when talking about debits and credits, she finally responded. “We already have a home for J.J. So I really don’t see why we just can’t continue on the way we are.”
It was as if all the old anger flared up inside him, and his pulse went a little haywire. Furious at her for reverting back to her old defensive patterns, Murphy abruptly straightened, turning away from her, resisting the urge to put his fist through the wall. Trying to get a handle on the surge of bitterness, he made himself count to ten, then turned back to face her. Anger seething just below the surface, he called it as he saw it. “Well, Jordan. I don’t want to continue on the way we are. I don’t want to keep living in some kind of loosey-goosey limbo. I think it’s about time we made a commitment. Is that so much to ask?”
Clearly upset, she started refolding the already folded diapers. “You’re blowing things all out of proportion, Murphy.”
It was as if she was scolding him, and Murphy truly saw red. And he lost his temper. “Okay, Kennedy,” he snapped back. “If that’s where you’re coming from, how about if you explain my role here? Am I a live-in lover, or just a convenient nanny? Just how in hell do you see me?”
He could tell that that comment had hurt her, but she faced him, her head held high, her face even more ashen. “I don’t know whatever made you think you’re under some duty-bound obligation to marry me. And you’d better lower your voice or you’re going to wake the baby.”
Murphy stared at her. Wake the baby? The baby who was now watching his mobile go around and around? Totally steamed over her snotty, accountant’s tone, and even more ticked off over her bloody thickheadedness, he let her have it with both barrels. “I don’t care if I wake the entire bloody city. This time we are going to settle this once and for all. I want to marry you because I love you, damn it. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together because I care about you, not because I’m under some rotten obligation to make an honest woman out of you.”
Which was the absolute wrong thing to say. Her chin came up, and she defensively folded her arms in front of her. He had never seen her eyes ice over the way they did right then. “Well, that’s just terrific, Munroe. Because I don’t need you or anyone else to make an honest woman out of me. I can do that all by myself, thank you very much.”
So furious that he was certain he was about to blow, Murphy ground his teeth together, trying to put a lid on his reaction. A tiny sliver of logic told him that she had very deliberately turned the tables on him, but he was so damned ticked off, he ignored that little voice of caution. His anger got the upper hand, and in no uncertain terms, he laid it on the line. “I’m sick and tired of tiptoeing around the real issue here. I love you, damn it, and if you don’t believe that, there’s not much point of me hanging around, marking time, hoping that you’re eventually going to come around. I want a life, damn it!”
An awful expression crossed Jordan’s face, and her eyes widened with alarm. It was as if she realized that she had pushed him too far, and it scared her. Coming over to him, she laid her hand on his arm, and it wasn’t until then that he realized she was shaking.
She looked up at him, her face white, her eyes beseeching. “Do we have to make a decision right now? Can’t we just give it a little more time?”
Realizing she was trying to mollify him, Murphy glared down at her, not really giving a damn at this point. Because this time, he had really had it. Crossing his arms in front of him, he cocked one hip and gave her a bitter smile. “Time ain’t going to cut it, honey. If you haven’t figured it out by now that I’m in it for the long haul, you’re never going to figure it out.”
He pulled away from her touch, then turned and stared out the nursery door, his fury turning into something cold and hard. It was as if the past three months had shriveled up to nothing, and he was left standing there, holding an empty bag. There was nowhere to go. The cold, hard feeling rose up, dragging with it all the old bitter feelings from before. Giving his anger a chance to set, he fixed his face into a stony expression and turned to face her. “If you don’t trust me enough to believe me about something as basic as how I feel about you, then there’s not much point in me sticking around.” Feeling hardened from the inside out, he called the shot. “So it’s your call, dinkums. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s either all or nothing.” Giving her another cutting smile, he turned to leave. “But if there ever is a next time, you’re the one who’s going to have to jump into the deep end. Because I’m sure in hell not making that dive again.”
Without giving her another glance, he strode off down the hallway, more furious, more hardened and cold than he’d ever been in his whole life. She had done it to him a second time, and he had let her. But this time, he was going to be the one to walk. Because there was absolutely no reason to stay. There were some barriers that could be disassembled, and there were some that were permanent, and there was no getting around those. She had built those walls so deep, it was as if she’d constructed a damned fort around herself. And unless she opened the gate, there was no way in.
He left with the slam of the door. He needed to get away from her, and he needed to get the hell out of her apartment. Without any thought to where he was going, he stormed out of the building and got in his truck and drove.
And he drove and drove, his anger like a head of steam, pushing him on. He had no idea how much ground he covered, or how many country roads he’d been down, but it was well past midnight when he found himself parked outside his house without even making a conscious decision to go there—it was as if he switched to autopilot, letting his anger govern him.
It was a bad night. The first half he’d spent raging against her
; the second half was where it got really ugly. Because that was when he faced the loss—the loss of a life together, the loss of her and the loss of daily contact with his son. At one point, when he was at the height of his anger, he flirted with the idea of punishing her by going after custody. But he was sickened by just how sleazy an idea it was—that he had even entertained that thought for a second. As furious as he was with her for not believing in a lifetime together, he could never, ever hurt her that way. It would kill her, and that kind of nastiness was not a level he wanted to sink to. She had given him a son out of choice; he would give him back to her the same way.
But what damned near ripped his heart out was knowing that his little boy was not going to be part of his everyday existence. No more morning bottles, no more baths at bedtime—and he would miss out on those little daily milestones, like the very first time that J.J. had pulled out his soother on his very own.
His hand resting on a support post, a bottle of beer in his free hand, Murphy stood on his front veranda and stared blindly into the night. His throat was so tight he couldn’t swallow, and the fierce ache sitting squarely on his chest made it nearly impossible to breathe. God, he was going to miss J.J.—and he was going to miss her. Miss being with her. But there was no going back. He would just end up hating himself and hating her. But that sense of loss was so immense, he felt as if someone had reached inside him and ripped everything out.
Roughly gouging at his eyes, he forced himself to take several swallows from the bottle. Damn, but hindsight was twenty-twenty. He should have never confronted her; he should have let sleeping dogs lie, but he hadn’t. No, he had to go charging in like some bloody bull in a china shop, smashing everything to smithereens. But now that it had all been dragged out in the open, there was no way they could ever pick up the pieces and put their old life back together again. There was no way he could pretend the blowup never happened. For him, there would be just too many cracks showing.
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