by Peggy Jaeger
“I remember that piece. They had a little girl and she’d been beaten and raped by some of the soldiers.”
“That’s why I was interviewing them. She’d been left for dead outside their hut as a warning to the family. Miraculously, the local midwife was able to save her.”
“It’s so sad. Did the family get out of the country?”
“No.” He took a ragged breath. “Unfortunately the father and the oldest boys were taken prisoners. I don’t know what happened to them.”
“God, Cole, you’ve seen so many horrible things.”
He nodded, staring off into the distance, lost in the memory. When he looked back at her, he said, “Luckily, nothing bad ever happened to me.”
“And now you’re home, safe and sound,” she said, smiling. “I’m so glad.”
Cole continued to message her hand. “So am I. So, what about you, Brat? Been doing anything else besides skating?”
“I tried to get you up to speed last night when you were so rudely yawning in my face.” She rolled her eyes at him and pouted.
“Sorry about that. It was a long couple days traveling. I never realized how badly I needed sleep. I guess my body just gave up. And then, I got jarred out of bed at that unholy hour this morning by what sounded like a pack of elephants gallivanting upstairs.”
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond he shot off the couch.
“I completely forgot,” he said, running into his bedroom. When he returned he handed her a small, brown paper-wrapped box. “To prove I didn’t forget your birthday. I found this in the airport in Madrid. Thought you’d like it.”
Tiffany tore through the wrapping like a small child getting its first toy.
“Some things never change,” he said, with a shake of his head.
She pried the box top open and her eyes widened. “Cole.” She lifted the tiny, delicate sculpture from its box, carefully turning it around in her hand.
“The minute I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you,” he said. “You’ve always been such a pushover for horses.”
Tiffany’s green eyes grew misty. The crystal horse was beyond beautiful. Flawlessly cut, its intricate mane danced behind it, whipped by the wind, the legs sprung, captured in flight.
“Do you like it?”
When she lifted her gaze to him, there were tears in her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she said simply. “Thank you.”
She leaned into him, placed a hand to his cheek, and kissed his lips with infinite tenderness. She pulled back, but his hand shot up to cover hers, trapping it in place. When he whispered her name, her eyes widened more, the green turning the color of polished emeralds. The velvety soft feel of her skin against his cheek was intoxicating.
A heartbeat passed.
In the next second their lips came together again, this time hungry and demanding.
Cole’s hands spanned her sparse waist and lifted her small body to lie across his lap. His lips rubbed against and tasted her perfectly formed mouth, while he felt her body shake beneath his grip. Bright colors danced in front of his closed eyes, as he drew her in even closer, tightening his hold. His tongue pushed apart her lips and delved into the inner recesses of her mouth, savoring each new crevice and region he discovered, excited to explore her this way. His hands moved down from her waist to cup her bottom, and he felt the gasp that pushed up through her lips when he held her so intimately against him.
Cole pulled back, dazed, and stared into her face. Eyes greener than he’d ever seen them before looked back at him through half closed lids, heavy and drunk with what looked like passion. Her skin was pale, the freckles across her nose standing out darkly against the pallor. The lips he’d just ravished were puffy and pink from his ministrations.
Guilt sluiced through him. Embarrassment followed.
“Tiff, I’m—” He stopped when the phone rang, splitting the air. Cole reached over the back of the sofa, letting go of his grip on her.
“Yes?...okay...Thanks.”
By the time he hung up, Tiffany was once again nestled on the other side of the couch, her leg propped on the pillows. Her eyes were focused on the crystal horse in her hand.
“Mike and Carly are on their way up,” he said. When he rose from the couch, he swiped a frustrated hand through his hair. “Tiff, I’m sorry.”
Clear eyes shot straight through him. “What for?”
He blew out a breath and stared down at her. “For what just happened. I’m sorry. I should never have...you’re not...I mean, Jesus!”
Tortured, he turned from her and shoved his hands into his pockets, never so happy as when the front door bell chimed.
Chapter Seven
“There’s nothing better than Hop Suey’s,” Tiffany said, finishing off the last of her fried rice. “Nothing.”
“I happen to remember your mother saying the same thing to me a long time ago,” Mike said, smiling across the table at his wife. “I knew it was her favorite restaurant so I plied her with their food in an attempt to get her to fall for me. I believe that was our first date.”
“Date, nothing. You and Serena conspired against me. And if I remember correctly, Tiffany came home from the movies that night with chicken pox,” Carly said.
Mike laughed. “Spoiled all my plans for a romantic evening.” He took a sip of wine.
“Sorry,” Tiffany said sweetly. “But it all worked out in the end.”
“It did.” Mike reached over and took his wife’s hand.
Carly smiled back at her husband. “You’re really okay?” she asked, turning her attention to Tiffany.
Concern pinched in the lines around her mother’s mouth. “I’m fine. It’s just sprained. I’ll be able to go on as scheduled.”
“Well, you should rest it as much as possible.” She looked down at her daughter’s raised leg. Cole had insisted on placing an extra chair at the table to elevate it, as the doctor had instructed.
“Believe me, with Cole bunking here, I don’t have any choice. He’d just as soon chain me to my bed to keep me from moving at all.”
Cole’s hand flew to his chest. “This is the thanks I get? What an unappreciated job nursing is.”
Mike’s laughter bounded around the table. “It’s nice to hear you two go at it again. And it’s doubly nice to have you home, son. We all missed you. Maybe we can persuade you to stick around this time.”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m not planning on bolting again so soon. It’s too much fun bossing the brat around.”
Tiffany crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, go back to Africa for all I care.”
Husband and wife left early, after first seeing Tiffany back to bed, an ice pack over her ankle and the covers pulled tightly up around her. Carly leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her daughter’s cheek. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“I love you,” Tiffany told her and Mike before they left. In the foyer, Cole embraced them both.
“I’m meeting with Stepman tomorrow morning,” Mike told his nephew. “Anything I should tell him from you?”
Cole understood the expectancy in his uncle’s eyes. “Tell him I’m thinking about it. Seriously. But I have no answer yet.”
“Fair enough. But just one piece of advice, if I may.”
Cole nodded.
“Stepman isn’t the kind to wait forever. He knows I want to announce by Christmas, leave by Easter. If you’re to come after me, the network needs to try you for a while as a sub for the weekend and nightly news. Don’t wait too long to make up your mind.”
“I won’t. You’ll be the first person to know when I decide.”
Both men hugged again. When it was Carly’s turn, she placed both hands on his cheeks and kissed him. “You have our support no matter what you decide.”
“Thanks, Carly. That means a lot.”
There was a twinkle in her green eyes when she added, “And think how much fun you’ll have being able to boss Tiffany around all the time, inst
ead of between countries and assignments. That alone should be worth the price of the anchor chair.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “It’s a huge bargaining chip for sure.”
When they’d gone, Cole walked back to Tiffany’s room. The door was ajar, but he rapped his knuckles across the frame anyway before going in.
She was lying on one side, her hair fanned out on the pillow. She looked like a child, and yet, just a few hours before, she’d responded to his kiss as a woman.
A full-grown, passionate woman.
“Need anything?” he asked softly.
“Mmmm.” Her eyes remained closed. “Sleep.”
“Get some. I’ll be just down the hall.”
He turned off the light and was almost out the door before she called his name.
When he looked back around, she was still on her side, but her eyes were half open. “I’m not sorry,” she said, through a yawn. When her eyes closed she added, “It was wonderful.”
Cole was about to ask what she meant, when it came to him. He walked back to the bed, only to find her breathing was deep and even. In sleep, she looked calm and relaxed, her features soft and delicately etched.
He wanted to wake her, make her explain her statement, but guilt kept his hands in his pockets. He bent, kissed her unlined brow once, and pulled the covers up around her back.
“I think it was pretty wonderful too,” he whispered in the darkness. “That’s the problem.”
****
The smell of fresh coffee woke him.
Disoriented, Cole reached out, realized where he was, and recognized the delicious aroma wafting into his room.
Suddenly, it hit him who was making the coffee.
“Stubborn.” He flung his naked form over the edge of the bed, jamming his legs into jeans, just bothering to fasten them.
He stalked to the kitchen and found her standing at the breakfast counter, perfectly balanced on one foot, slicing fruit, and humming.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Without looking at him she placed the knife on the counter. “Making my fruit protein drink. And good morning to you too.”
Cole made it to the kitchen in two strides. Without warning he scooped Tiffany up, satisfied to hear her unexpected yelp of surprise, and unceremoniously dumped her onto a barstool.
“Wrong answer. Sitting with your foot up. That’s the correct one.”
Tiffany glared up at him. “I don’t remember you being so bad tempered in the morning,” she told him in a tone frozen in ice.
“I wouldn’t be if a certain pint-sized red-head started obeying doctor’s orders and not acting like an idiot.”
When one delicately shaped auburn eyebrow rose, Cole knew he was in for it, and braced himself for the attack.
He’d seen Tiffany’s infamous temper grow and develop as she’d matured. Only once had he ever borne the full brunt of it, and at the time, he knew he’d deserved it, teasing her mercilessly about her freckles. He remembered how she’d stung him with a woman’s barbs roaring from a child’s mouth, and he’d sworn he never wanted to be at the biting end of her anger again. It looked like his string of good luck was just about over.
As he waited for her anger to spew, he was blindsided when she smiled and then laughed, her green eyes gamboling with mirth.
“You know, you’re awfully cute in the morning, all rumpled and moody. Like a mad puppy. I was obeying doctor’s orders for your information.” She pointed to the crutches leaning against the kitchen counter. “I was just making my protein drink, since I’m still in training for the show, even though I can’t rehearse for a few days. I thought I’d make you some coffee knowing how much you need the stuff. And I did plan on sitting with my leg up when I was done. Honest. Okay?”
Embarrassment shot through him. He swiped at his disorderly hair and took a breath.
“You’re even cuter when you’re penitent,” she said.
To occupy himself, he poured a cup of coffee and took a long draught of it. “Thanks for the coffee.” After swallowing he added, “You make it strong, just the way I like it.”
“The way Addie taught me. ‘A good man’s not worth his mettle without his life’s blood in the mornin’.’” Her mimicry of their Irish-born housekeeper’s brogue was perfect.
Cole laughed at her rendition, his irritation and discomfort gone. “You do that so well.”
“A lifetime of practice.”
Over the rim of his mug, his gaze settled on her neck. “I can’t believe you still wear that.”
“I haven’t taken it off in too many years to count.” She fingered the gold chain.
“I remember the day I bought it for you.” Cole reached out and touched the sapphire ring.
“So do I.”
The hitch in her voice made him look back at her face.
“It was the day we met,” she said. “You came to the fair with Mike.”
“Carvan’s town fair,” he said, with a nod. “Mike said he wanted to go, never telling me why.” He grinned at the memory. “After I met Carly, I knew why.”
Pursing her lips, she said, “I remember how you were all over Mom. ‘I’m a big fan of yours, Mrs. Lennox,’” she mimicked. “‘I’ve read everything you’ve written. I love your plots and the way you make things seem so simple when they’re really so complex.’ Made me sick, all that simpering.”
Cole laughed. “You were such a pain. You glued yourself to my side for the whole afternoon. All I wanted to do was talk to your mother about writing, but no, I had to babysit you so Mike could make time with her.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Make time? You cretin. It was plain even to me he was in love with her.”
Cole laughed again and took another sip of his coffee. “I don’t remember it exactly that way. What I do remember is you whining about this ring, how it matched your horse’s name, Saphyre. How you simply had to have it. You didn’t give me a moment’s peace all afternoon, until I bought it and put it on your finger, simply to shut you up.”
“Bought it to—you—you—monster.” A dishtowel was the closest thing she could find to throw at him. She reached for it, but Cole beat her to it. Just as her fist closed over the towel, his hand caught her wrist.
“Let me go.”
The more she yanked the tighter Cole’s grip became. “Not a minute’s peace that whole day or any other day since then. ‘Cole, take me riding.’” It was his turn to mimic, trying desperately to keep the laughter from his voice. “ ‘I’m hungry, make me a sandwich. I want to go skating, drive me.’ Whine, whine, whine, nag, nag, nag. I was your personal servant, your slave, and you some demanding princess who always got her own way. A lifetime of it. I had to go to a war ravaged country, where gunfire exploded daily to find some peace and quiet.”
The look in her eyes was murderous, and Cole’s groin tensed with that all too swift feeling of desire. Tiffany was certainly a beauty when she smiled, her face open and loving, but when she was angry, those green eyes flashed like winking emeralds and her pale lips grew as red and ripe as molten lava.
Heat oozed from her body as she glowered at him.
“And to think,” she said, glaring hard at his laughing face, her voice quiet and tight, “I fell hopelessly, endlessly in love with you that day. I should have known you’d turn out to be such a creep. What a waste my life has been, pining after you, waiting for you to notice me, longing after you with every breath. God, what a moron …”
Tiffany stopped. Mouth agape, eyes wide and clear, she stopped tugging on the towel and opened her hand in surrender.
Cole didn’t let go of her wrist. He couldn’t, not after what she’d just confessed. Her face had gone pale again, her lips turning to chalk. He dropped the ring back to its chain and saw it glinting in the light, lying over the small upsweep of her breasts made bare by their struggle. Breasts he suddenly felt an intense need to cup, kiss, and nuzzle.
He didn’t know how to respond. Her word
s were true; there was no doubt about it. No explanation necessary.
“Tiffany, I...don’t know what to say.”
With a jagged breath, she threw back her head. Choking on a sob, she told him, “You don’t have to say anything, Cole. Really.”
Confused by the emotions churning within him, he let go of her hand. “I don’t understand this. Any of this. I’m, well, flattered, I guess. I don’t know.” He raked his fingers through his hair and let out a deep sigh.
“That’s okay.” She stood and tightened the belt on her robe. “Most men wouldn’t. Don’t give it another thought. Drink your coffee. I’m going to get washed up.”
She took the crutches from their resting place and hobbled toward her bedroom.
At a loss, he simply let her go. In a trance, he put the half-empty mug in the sink and sat down on the stool she’d vacated.
He knew she’d always loved him. He could see it in her face whenever they were together. But Cole had assumed it was the kind of love a sister would share with a brother. He’d been teasing her when he complained about always being at her beck and call, because truthfully, he’d never minded at all. Tiffany was always more important to him than hanging out with friends or even spending time alone with some random girl. He could bring to mind dozens of dates he’d cancelled just to see her compete or drive her to practice before she was old enough to get her own license. He’d never thought twice about it.
And she’d always been there for him. When word came his father had been killed in prison, it was Tiffany who flew down to North Carolina with him to claim the body. Carly had been in China with Mike, who was on assignment for EBC News. Tiffany had held his hand, comforted him, took care of him, and she herself was little more than a child at the time.
She’d pulled out of the World Championships one year because he’d been felled by a bad case of pneumonia while doing a story in Canada. For over two weeks she’d tended to him, never complaining once about missing the event. And again, she’d been barely a teenager.
But the soul laid bare before him just a few moments ago was that of a woman.
A woman who claimed she loved him.
