by Donna Hill
That did it. She couldn’t hold them back any longer. Hot tears of happiness slid down her cheeks and clouded her vision. She wanted to say something, but dammit, her throat was in a knot. All she could do was nod her head like one of those dolls that you set on your dashboard.
Raymond’s relief was palpable. He took her shaky hand and slid the ring on her finger. She jumped up from her seat and came around to his side. He pulled her to him and felt her heart hammering in her chest.
“That was scarier than when we were ducking enemy fire in Baghdad,” he said into the softness of her hair.
She giggled as the flutter of nerves and adrenaline rippled through her veins. She held her hand out beyond his shoulder to stare at the sparkling beauty.
“It’s gorgeous,” she murmured in awe.
“Nothing less than what you deserve.” He pulled back a bit to look down into her upturned face. “I love you, you know.”
Her face heated as her lashes fanned rapidly over her eyes. “I know.” She raised her mouth to meet his and the incendiary contact between them took them both by surprise.
Raymond lifted her up into his arms, cleaving her to him, his mouth capturing hers.
Their kiss escalated from heated to explosive. Jacqueline’s soft moan of acquiescence seeped into Raymond’s blood and fired it. His hands roamed the curves of her body, sliding along the soft fabric then beneath, eager to touch her.
Her body trembled with desire. She caressed his face, ran her fingers along the hard lines of his body, felt the rise of his need for her press urgently against her belly. She desperately wanted him. She wanted him to confirm her existence, to confirm to him the joy that he brought to her life, the hope that he had given her and the courage to battle whatever came their way.
“I love you,” she cried. “I do.”
He leaned his head back to be able to look into her eyes. “And I want you. Right now. Right here.”
Her heart jumped.
He began unbuttoning her top, eased it off her shoulders and tossed it aside. He savored the lush appeal of her round, firm breasts. Tenderly, he ran his thumb across one nipple and then the other, making them rise and harden. Her head dipped back, inviting him to taste her exposed neck. He did then worked his way down to the ripe fruit that he longed for.
Raymond held her securely around the waist while he feasted. With his appetite for her moderately satisfied he continued on his downward exploration, relieving her of her lounging pants that pooled softly at her feet. His thumbs pressed into the soft spaces of her pelvis while his long fingers held her hips firmly still.
When his wet tongue flicked across the exposed bud of her clit her knees buckled. She gripped his shoulders to keep from crumbling into a heap. His mouth and tongue worked in concert, sucking, licking, stroking and building a rhythm that strummed through every inch of her body.
Jolt after jolt of electricity flowed through her. Her moans and whimpers rose in volume and frequency as her climax built like a storm cloud, brewing, dangerous and impending. Her inner thighs trembled. Her heart was beating so fast she could barely catch her breath. An unbearable heat ignited. She was so close. Lights danced behind her closed lids. She wound her hips against the onslaught of his mouth, digging her fingers deeper into his flesh.
And then he lifted her off her feet, and her back was pressed against the cool surface of the double-wide stainless-steel fridge.
Raymond’s large hands cupped her behind. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
The force of his entry rammed all the air out her lungs in a gush.
“Ahhhhh,” she cried, the rock-hard feel of him filling her in unimaginable ways. She bit down on her lip to keep from screaming but it didn’t help. It was too much, too wild, too good.
Raymond buried his face in her neck and then took her mouth again. Every thrust was long, hard and deep, reaching the farthest recesses of her body. Every move he made declared his love for her, his need for her. Confirmed for her that she was the only woman who could make him feel this way.
She knew she couldn’t last much longer as the ecstasy built at a blinding speed. Her knees tightened along the cords of his back. His tongue locked with hers and he drove into the hot lava that poured over him and exploded in a gush when her insides convulsed around him, spiraling them both over the edge into utter bliss.
The sounds of her escalated breathing and soft moans played beneath the Stylistics’ “You Are Everything.”
Jacqueline’s head dropped to Raymond’s shoulder. She shuddered in his arms. Holding her tight, he slowly backed up and sat down on the stool, taking her with him so that she sat on his lap.
They held each other until their breathing slowly returned to normal.
Raymond tenderly kissed her puffy lips and brushed her hair away from her face. “You okay?”
“Very,” she managed. She looked into the light that danced in his eyes. “I think that will be our theme song.”
Raymond grinned as the lyrics of love wound to an end. You are everything…everything is you.
“Absolutely,” he said and sealed that promise with a kiss.
Chapter 20
Raymond held tight to Jacqueline’s hand as they approached the doors of the hospital.
Jacqueline stole a quick glance up at him as she stepped to the revolving door.
“It’s going to be fine.”
She pressed her lips tightly together and nodded her head then pushed through the doors. Once inside the lobby she checked the card in her hand and approached the information console.
“Hi. I’m looking for Dr. Hutchinson. Area D?”
The woman behind the desk asked her to sign in and then gave her directions to the fourth floor.
They squeezed into the elevator with several others and rode to the fourth floor in silence.
The elevator doors swished open. Jacqueline stepped out first. Raymond was right behind her. She looked at the directional information on the wall. They turned left and walked down a long corridor, passing busy nurses and patients being wheeled into exam rooms.
She stopped in front of 4802. She turned to Raymond and was rewarded with a smile of encouragement. She opened the door.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
Jacqueline stepped up to the desk. “Jacqueline Lawson. I have an appointment to see Dr. Hutchinson.” Her fingertips gripped the edge of the desk.
The receptionist checked her computer screen then looked up at Jacqueline. “You have one person ahead of you. The wait shouldn’t be too long.” She reached for a stack of forms and handed them to her. “If you would fill these out while you’re waiting.”
“Sure.” Jacqueline took the forms, a pen and the clipboard and went to sit on one of the waiting-room chairs.
Raymond sat opposite her and took in the surroundings. The colors were soothing. A soft sea-green. There were pictures on the wall of smiling patients. Silk flowers filled several vases. There were two other couples seated on the other side of the room watching a television that was mounted to the wall. A young woman held a sleeping child on her lap. Soothing, elevator-type music played softly in the background.
A woman, accompanied by a doctor, stepped out of one of the offices. She was smiling. Raymond wanted Jacqueline to come out smiling, as well.
The woman stopped at the desk, spoke briefly to the receptionist and walked out. A nurse stepped out from another room and called the woman with the child.
An eternity seemed to pass by, but it was only about twenty minutes when the receptionist called Jacqueline.
“You can go down the hall to room seven,” she said with a pleasant smile on her face.
“Thank you,” Jacqueline murmured. She turned to Raymond.
He stood. “You want me i
n there with you?”
“No.” She shook her head and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.” She drew in a breath and started toward room seven.
* * *
At first Raymond sat. He flipped through every magazine on the table. He got up and paced. He checked his watch. He sat down and crossed and uncrossed his legs. He rested his arms on his thighs and buried his face in his hands. He got up and went to the counter where there was a carafe of water and a coffeemaker. He filled a cup with water and tossed it down in one gulp. He checked his watch. It had been an hour. He returned to his seat and started the process all over again.
Another forty minutes later the door at the end of the corridor opened and Jacqueline stepped out. She turned over her shoulder and said something to the doctor then headed toward the reception area.
Raymond couldn’t read the expression on her face. He stood as she drew closer. She stopped at the desk. The receptionist jotted something down on a card and handed it to her. Jacqueline stuck it in her purse then turned and faced Raymond.
“Ready” she said, her throat tight.
He touched her arm. “J?”
“We’ll talk outside.”
Raymond put his arm around her waist as they walked out. He kept stealing glances at her while they rode down the elevator then outside to the parking lot where they’d left the rented Ford. But she only looked straight ahead.
He opened the passenger-side door, and she got in without a word. He rounded the car, got in and fastened his seat belt.
“J,” he said softly. He reached for her hands that she had knotted on her lap.
“Let’s go back to the house,” she said in a monotone. She turned her head to stare out the window.
Raymond pushed out a breath of frustration and put the car in gear.
* * *
Before he could shut the car off, Jacqueline got out and hurried into the house. By the time he got inside she’d gone upstairs. He found her sitting in the window seat.
He gathered himself, prepared for whatever she would tell him. He could handle it. But she was not going to shut him out. Not again. Not this time. He crossed the room and sat next to her.
“Talk to me. Tell me what the doctor said.”
She glanced away. She folded her arms beneath her breasts.
“I…he said that based on my tests…” Her voice hitched. “He said that based on the results sent to him from L.A., he didn’t believe that the trials would help. The results from the treatment…would take…too long.” Her chest heaved and she pressed her fist to her mouth. A tear spilled down her cheek.
Raymond’s mind screeched to a halt. Time seemed to stand still. His nostrils flared as he sucked in air. He pulled her to him and held her against his chest. Her sobs rocked her body.
“Maybe he’s wrong,” he said, grabbing for straws. “They have to test you again. At least try!”
She shook her head and pulled away from him. She moved away to the other side of the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“It was five years ago,” she began in a faraway voice. “I was on assignment. A chemical explosion.” She swallowed. “I was there to take pictures of the site. There was a smell. Weeks later. There was still a smell. But they swore it was safe.” Her brows drew together as the memory formed. “I went into the buildings with some of the investigators. We had on masks. It was so hot. I…was working on some shots but it was hard to see with the mask. Stupidly, I took my mask off. For the shot.” She snorted in disgust. “I remember stepping over some rubble. The floor was slick. I bent down to get a shot of a single shoe. The only thing left…of someone.”
Raymond remembered that assignment. He remembered the photograph. It was set against twisted metal and concrete, a stark reminder of the utter devastation. That photograph won her an award.
“It was probably two years later that I started not feeling like myself. No one could figure out what was wrong. I went from one doctor to the other. Eventually, I got used to it. Then about a year ago they finally diagnosed aplastic anemia, a result of over exposure to toxic chemicals.” She drew in a breath. “The doctors tried all of the treatments available. But about six months ago…they stopped having any benefit. My doctor recommended the new clinical trials.” She looked at Raymond and threw her hands up in resignation. “So here I am.”
“You went back home to Baton Rouge to say goodbye, didn’t you?” The realization of it all hit him in the gut.
She couldn’t meet his steady gaze.
“J…”
“Yes! I knew if the treatment didn’t work…I…” Her shoulders shook.
Raymond gathered her close. “There has to be something that they can do.”
She shook her head against his chest. “Bone marrow transplant is the only other option. I’ve been on the list for months.”
He knew what she was holding back. “Ask your brother.”
“No.” She pulled away. “I won’t.” She looked him square in the eye. “I won’t. I can’t.” With that, she stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
Raymond stood in the center of the room. The enormity of what Jacqueline had revealed weakened him to his soul. He wouldn’t lose her. The trials, new medication, something had to work. And if getting the bone marrow transplant from her brother was the only way to save her then he didn’t give a damn what she thought she wanted. He was just as stubborn as she was.
He snatched up his cell phone and went downstairs.
Chapter 21
Rafe disconnected the call. Slowly, he set his phone down on the nightstand. The woman in his bed stirred. He glanced at her over his shoulder. He picked up his boxers from the floor and put them on then walked out into the front room. He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of bourbon.
He walked to the window. The sun was setting over Louisiana. Tomorrow he would be on a plane to Washington. He tossed back the last of his drink. But tonight he had a beautiful woman in his bed and he intended to make the most of it. He put the glass down and returned to his bedroom.
* * *
Branford strode down the halls of the Senate building. Frustration rimmed his eyes. Another fruitless two hours of debating over the points of the health care bill. If certain senators had their way, they would overturn the bill and set the country back decades. It was unconscionable that anyone with an ounce of humanity in them could sleep at night knowing that they were responsible for denying poor people, women and children the health care that they deserved.
“Of course there are things wrong with the bill,” he said to Claude, his Chief of Staff. “But for Godsake, is the answer to overturn it?”
“None of this has anything to do with the bill.”
Branford grumbled under his breath. “We all know that,” he said, his disgust evident. “If one of them would have had the balls to come up with it, there wouldn’t be a problem.”
Deep in conversation, they breezed by Branford’s secretary and walked into his office. Branford stopped at the door.
Rafe turned from the window overlooking the epicenter of the country to face his father. He adjusted his tie. “Dad. Claude.” He tipped his head in greeting. “Melissa said I could wait for you here. I told her not to say anything. I hope you don’t mind.” He ran his hand along the smooth surface of the enormous oak desk.
“I’ll be in my office,” Claude said. “Rafe, good to see you.”
“You, too.”
Branford stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He walked over to the wet bar and poured a half tumbler of bourbon. “What are you doing here, Rafe? Are you in some kind of trouble again?”
Rafe snorted a laugh. “Can’t a son come to see his old man at his place of business?”
Branford crossed to his desk, picked up a st
erling silver letter opener then set it back down. “Nothing you do is ever that simple.” He looked hard at his son and took a long swallow of his drink. He moved in deliberate paces to the conversation grouping of seating.
Rafe came to stand on the opposite side of his father’s desk. “We need to talk.”
“I’m listening.” He sat down in the chocolate-brown leather club chair. He rested his right ankle on his left knee.
“It’s about Aunt Jacquie.”
Branford’s expression tightened. He glanced away. “What about her?”
“She’s sick. Really sick, and she won’t make it unless you help her.”
Branford’s gaze locked with Rafe’s. He pushed up from his seat.
“No. I think you need to sit down.”
Rafe lowered himself into an identical club chair. He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward.
* * *
Rafe had seen his father in many circumstances. He’d always been impenetrable, stoic and almost distant. The closest he’d come to displaying any real noticeable emotion was when Louisa, his wife and mother of his children, died. Then the veneer had cracked. Then and now.
Branford’s fingers clenched and unclenched. His always straight-back was bowed.
“Does she hate me that much that she wouldn’t tell me that she…needed me?” He looked up at his son and water rimmed his eyes.
Rafe’s stomach clenched as the depth of his father’s pain became his own. “She gets her stubborn streak honestly.”
Branford’s eye flickered to his son. A flash of admiration was there for an instant. He pushed himself to his feet. He went to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Melissa, I need you to get me on the next shuttle flight to New York.” He glanced at Rafe. “And a seat for my son.”
* * *
Jacqueline had taken her camera and quietly left the house right after sunup. She’d lain awake most of the night. Her thoughts twisted and turned on an endless journey. She’d put so much faith into the possibility of being a good candidate for the medical trials that she’d allowed herself to dream again. She’d foolishly let down her guard, opened her heart fully and let Raymond all the way in. She’d embraced his words of love and gave him hers. She’d taken down the wall of protection and now her spirit, the thing that propelled her through life, was shattered. And as much as Raymond professed his life and his vow to stand by her side, it would change nothing.
