The You I Want for Life

by Alison Kent

  He came into the room. She followed his approach in the window, though she didn’t need to look at all. She felt him under her skin, where his memory had been living for the past endless weeks.

  He walked past her and she inhaled, seeking his scent, the one that lingered in the fabric of the jumper she still slept with.

  “Chloe let me in on her way out. Something about the timing of the cosmos. Or the alignment of the planets?” His voice slid like liquid sex to the base of her spine.

  Trembling, she studied the tense set of his shoulders, the rigid line of his back. He was as affected as she. “You know Chloe.”

  “Does anyone really know Chloe?” He chuckled softly, intimately, and Eden’s soul took flight.

  Jace rubbed one hand over the back of his neck, then turned and dropped down on the window seat. Elbows braced on his widespread knees, he laced his hands and stared at the floor between his feet. “I hear you’re looking for a carpenter.”

  “You can’t be a carpenter. I don’t see any sweat or sawdust. And you’re not wearing those pants with hammers and tape measures hung everywhere.”

  He patted his pockets, front and rear, coming up with a single nail. He balanced it head down on the window ledge. “Will that do?”

  Eden searched for the words she wanted to say, words to complete this full circle without losing any of the ground she’d gained in getting on with her life.

  Rubbing a finger across Beth’s brow, Eden watched her daughter’s hungry cheeks move in and out and decided simple honesty was best. “Did you come for the holiday festivities?”

  “That, and to talk.”

  “To talk?” she whispered, still staring at Beth, though she saw only Jace, felt only Jace, as he moved into her peripheral vision.

  When at last she looked up, she found his gaze riveted on the child nursing at her breast. She held her breath, her heart pounding.

  Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans, he remained silent, shifting slightly to stare down at Ben in his cradle.

  Eden longed for brighter light to see Jace’s face. But the shadows made it impossible, so she waited, watching while he leaned down and with one broad hand stroked Ben’s back.

  “I can’t believe he’s so tiny,” he whispered, measuring Ben’s width between his outstretched fingers.

  Eden smiled. “Most of what you see there is diapers.”

  He looked up, and the barest of twinkles shimmered in his eyes, sparkling brighter when he dropped his gaze to Beth. He took two steps, sank to his knees at Eden’s feet and raised his hand.

  She arched back, and the sudden movement jerked her nipple from Beth’s hold. The baby whimpered, and Jace, using his finger as a lead, guided Beth’s tiny mouth back to its source of nourishment.

  His hand lingered, the backs of his fingers stroking across the swell of her blue-veined skin. Leaning forward, he dropped a kiss on Beth’s downy head, and Eden thought she would die.

  “Am I too late, Eden?” He whispered the words against the baby’s head.

  “Too late for what?”

  His gaze roamed from her eyes to her breast and back. “For you and me.”

  Taking a step she knew she would never regret, she brushed back his hair with her fingers and cupped his jaw in her palm. “I don’t know. What time is it?”

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “No, Jace. You’re not too late. You’re never too late. I love you.”

  His eyes filled with tears and he glanced away quickly. Eden’s gaze followed his as he looked down at Beth. Dribbles of milk ran from the sleeping baby’s open mouth to her chin.

  “I don’t know why you should.”

  “Jace—”

  “No, let me finish.” He dabbed at Beth’s chin with the pad of his thumb, rubbing the milky residue into his palm. “I walked out on you at the hospital. I knew I couldn’t stay and give you what you needed. Not then.”

  “And now?” She held her breath, not wanting to miss a word.

  He raised his searching gaze to hers. “Now I know that I’m one hell of a selfish man.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I want you, and I’m too mercenary to let you go. Even if I have to follow you to New York—”

  “I’m not going to New York.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.” She swallowed. Hard.

  Smiling, Jace went on, stroking his palm over Beth’s head. “Whether you ever want another child or not, I’ll be a damned good father to these two.”

  “Jace—”

  “I’ll be a good husband and provider.”

  “Jace—”

  “And I want you enough that whether or not we have children together doesn’t really matter.”

  Laying her fingers across his lips, Eden interrupted a third time. “Jace?”

  He took her fingers in his, kissing the tip of each one. “I love you, Eden.”

  She lowered her head and brushed her lips across first one eye, then the other. “I love you, too. But I’m a very selfish woman.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “The thought of bearing your children thrills me. Except for the labor pains part.” She grinned. “But what I want is you. You only. You first. You. Always and forever.”

  Eyes closed, Jace lowered his head, his lashes brushing butterfly kisses against her skin. He laid his face against the fullness of her breast and breathed deeply, his warm breath wafting across her milk-wet nipple.

  When he opened his mouth, Eden shuddered all the way to her soul. His tongue traced the veins spidering across her skin from one slope to the other and down toward the dusky center. He skipped over it, instead placing a feather-light kiss on Beth’s mouth. The baby wiggled and Eden’s eyes filled with tears.

  Threading her fingers through Jace’s thick hair, she tugged, pulling him close. Silken and mercurial, a sliver of longing shimmied to the base of her spine, erupting in a maelstrom of desire far beyond the physical.

  This man was made to be her other half.

  He lifted his head. “Eden Karr,” he began, his voice a husky shade of gravel. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, my only lover, and the mother of my children?”

  She saw the reflection of her smile in his eyes. “I’ll be your everything.”

  Jace eased the sleeping baby from her mother’s arms and laid her in her cradle. In another equally fluid move, he had Eden on her feet and in his arms, his pale eyes ghostly bright. “I’m yours forever.”

  “I love you, Jace,” Eden whispered. She buried her face in his chest, then just as quickly looked up. “Where have you been? I’ve been out of my mind—”

  “Later.” He nuzzled her neck, his hands making short work of her half-fastened bra.

  “Molly’s waiting for me to call. I need—”

  “Later.”

  “Jace, I don’t have any furniture. We can’t—”

  “Yes. We can.”

  Her blouse drifted to the floor. Jace’s shirt followed. “We have moonlight—”

  “But—”

  “And we have each other.”

  Epilogue

  “MOMMY! MOMMY!” HER nearly three-year-old legs pumping as fast as chubby muscles and pull-ups allowed, Beth ran with wild abandon down the grassy drive. Ignoring his sister’s undignified behavior, Ben followed three paces behind.

  Eden stepped from the passenger side of Molly’s station wagon just in time to intercept her daughter. Catching the toddler on the run, Eden swung Beth up and around while she squealed her delight.

  “Hey, little sister. Are you ready to go with Grandma Molly?” She gave Beth’s nose an Eskimo kiss, then glanced down to find Ben tugging at her skirt. “And just look at little brother. Don’t you look handsome.”

  “Handsome,” Ben echoed, smoothing down his blue-and-red western shirt. “Daddy says handsome, too.”

  Eden scooped Ben up in her other arm. “That daddy of yours has good taste.”


  She smacked her son on the cheek, tossing a quick glance over Ben’s mahogany curls in time to see Jace shoulder open the screened porch door, a pint-size suitcase in each hand.

  Her heart tripped into a tailspin. One whole night. An entire night with her husband. Just her and Jace, no rambunctious almost-three-year-olds pleading for endless bedtime stories and one more drink. Thank goodness for Molly Hansen.

  Beth caught sight of her adoptive grandmother. “Grandma Mo-lly!”

  Eden let her daughter slide to the ground. Beth had barely touched down before she was climbing through the open door of the station wagon, over the front seat and into one of the car seats Molly kept in the back.

  Hands on her hips, Molly shook her head. “No question but that girl’s ready to go.” She took a step toward Eden, holding out her arms to Ben. “How about you, young man?”

  Ben promptly and wetly kissed his mother on the mouth, then dived from her arms to Molly’s.

  This time it was Eden who laughed. “It’s a good thing my feelings don’t hurt easily or I’d think those two preferred your company to mine.”

  “Of course they do. They’ve got me wrapped around their pinkies.” Molly buckled Beth into the car seat and leaned across to do the same for Ben. “You two want to tell your mother good-bye?”

  Identical hands waved, and both toddlers blew sloppy kisses. One reserved and one boisterous voice shouted, “Bye-bye.”

  Molly shot Eden a triumphant grin. “Ah, the joys of being a grandmother. I can spoil them rotten, then bring them home.”

  “Thank you so very much,” Eden quipped. “Maybe Jace and I will decide not to pick them up this time. How do you like them apples?”

  “You forget, girl, I know where you live.” Molly narrowed one teasing eye.

  “Are you talking about fruit or my babies?” Jace tossed the suitcases into the front seat and leaned over to kiss the twins. He tickled Beth, ruffled Ben’s hair, and both giggled in delight.

  Eden’s heart swelled. From day one of their marriage Jace had accepted the twins as his own. He’d diapered, rocked, fed and burped, paced the floor and crooned to Ben, who’d been the only one to suffer colic.

  He was an indestructible tower of patience, spending time with Ben building cities out of blocks, time with Beth dressing and undressing dolls. And time showing Eden passion unlike any she’d ever known. Nothing could make their lives any more perfect.

  But there was one little thing that might just be the icing on the cake.

  Drawing her close to his side, Jace wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and together they watched Molly’s car disappear over the hill. “You and Molly have a good time at the meeting? The historic society decide on a new project for me to save?”

  “Of course we had a good time. Of course we’re working on finding you a project. But the best part of all is walking through The Glen, showing off your talent and telling everyone that I sleep with the man responsible for the design.”

  Jace scowled. “You do not.”

  Smiling, Eden snuggled closer to the warmth she never wanted to lose. She buried her face against Jace’s side and breathed deeply of the man she loved.

  “What’s that all about?”

  She grinned into his shirt, then slipped away and jogged up the porch steps. “Do I need a reason?”

  Jace followed, catching the screen door before it slammed in his face. “Seems you don’t need a reason for anything today. You gonna tell me why you had Molly take the kids?”

  “So we can celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  “Nothing much. Just being in love.”

  “You call that nothing much?” he called from the entrance to the hall.

  Eden strolled its length, dropping first her purse, then her sweater, then her blouse in a provocative trail.

  “Eden, what the hell are you doing?”

  “You complaining, Morgan?” She disappeared into their bedroom. After tossing her bra out the door, then her jeans, then her panties, she added in a sultry voice, “Or are you coming?”

  “Is that an invitation?” he growled from the doorway, adding his clothes to the pile.

  “Since when have you needed one?”

  Her chin propped in her palms, her crossed ankles swinging side to side, Eden lay on her stomach on their bed. Waiting. Wanting. Wildly in love.

  Her gaze swept the length of her husband’s naked body, coming to rest at a point several inches below his navel. She wet her lips once, twice, catching the lower between her teeth as her eyes drifted shut.

  Jace groaned. Two seconds and two long steps later, and with the symmetry only longtime lovers share, his body covered hers, his mouth doing the same, needlessly seeking her surrender. Like the rarest of orchids in a gardener’s hands, she blossomed beneath him, opening, welcoming.

  Their movements choreographed, their hearts pounding in rhythm, their blood pulsing to fulfill matching desire, Eden and Jace loved. And she knew no single being could boast the perfection found in the oneness they shared.

  She pressed back against the mattress, arching her hips to take Jace completely. Her legs around his hips, her arms encircling his neck, she rode the storm, a tempest made fierce by the intensity of their love. The lightning flashed. The thunder rolled. And savoring each and every tempestuous moment, Eden climbed to the peak.

  “C’mon, baby, do it.” Jace growled the command against her neck, forcing her higher. He nipped fiercely at her throat. She twisted and moaned. Hands beneath her hips, he drew her intimately closer, harder, higher, deeper.

  That was all it took.

  Gripping the blankets with both hands, she cried her release, pulling a rumbling growl from Jace’s throat.

  All male. All dominant, aggressive male was this husband of hers. And the thought that she could give him such pleasure, bring him to the edge of such a soul-shattering precipice stoked her urgency. Taking as much as she gave, she demanded Jace’s surrender. With a final gasp, he emptied himself deep inside her.

  Sated, exhausted, she stroked his back, his chest, wiping away his sweat and hers. Gazing into his eyes, bright and blue, she smiled an impish smile and tangled her legs with his.

  “Hmm. Love in the afternoon. What could be any better?”

  Jace settled his hand on the curve of her waist. “I can think of a couple of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Love in a hot, steamy morning shower. Or under a clear and cool moonlit night.” He leaned forward to brush his lips over hers. “Or again. Right now.”

  “Liar.”

  He took her hand to show her he wasn’t lying. “Now, are you going to let me in on this secret celebration?”

  She kept her hand where it was. “What do you want for Christmas, Jace?”

  “Good Lord, Eden. Christmas is eight months away.” He moved against her hand and slid his hand around to cup her bottom. “I’d rather think about here and now.”

  “Seriously. Which would you prefer? A son or a daughter?”

  His hand stopped its erotic exploration. Beneath her palm, she felt his heartbeat kick into overdrive.

  “Eden,” he ground out in a menacing whisper.

  She ran one nail around his flat nipple. “I was thinking another girl might be just the thing to settle Beth down. But Ben would absolutely adore a baby brother.”

  “Eden.” This time the growl was loud. And threatening. “Tell me.”

  “Of course, as we both know, twins definitely aren’t out of the question.”

  He grabbed her shoulders. “Dammit, Eden Morgan, what the hell are you trying to say?”

  She caressed him with eyes suddenly misty with tears. “I’m pregnant, Jace. You’re going to be a daddy.”

  For a long silent minute, he stared without blinking into her eyes. Then he lowered his gaze to her belly and drew his hand around to cover the imagined swell.

  “I’m already a daddy.” His voice was gruff and low. “Beth and Ben couldn�
��t be any more mine if I’d biologically fathered them.” Raising his gaze to hers, he added, “But seeing you grow big with our child will be a special joy.”

  Knowing he’d be fair, that he’d never place one child before another had never been a fear. Still, hearing him voice the words brought a sense of calm to her stomach where nerves—or perhaps out-and-out lust—fluttered incessantly.

  “Then you wouldn’t mind twins? Again?”

  He blinked away the moisture from his eyes and ran a sexy finger in a circle over her belly. “Baby, I wouldn’t mind triplets. We’re sitting on acres of land. We’ll just assign ‘em all a little square.”

  His finger moved down to tangle between her thighs. “Besides, you know how I feel about pregnant women.”

  The grin he gave, all sexy man and naughty boy, flicked a spark onto the coals of her desire. She wiggled against him, enjoying his delight as much as his hard body. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a crazy man?”

  “Only you, baby. And I must be, or I would’ve been doing this long before now.” He swooped down to kiss her long and hard, then just as suddenly jerked away.

  “Oh, God. Eden. A baby,” he yelled, then fell back spread-eagled on the bed. “I’m going to have a baby.” He raised his chin just enough to narrow one wicked eye her way. “How do you suppose that happened?”

  With a sinfully evil gleam in her eye, she straddled his reclining form. “Why don’t you just let me show you?”

  And she did.

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  Reader Letter

  Dear Reader,

  Twenty-five years have passed since I first put pen to paper, or fingers to typewriter (yes, typewriter) keys, as it were, to write. A quarter of a century spent giving couples in love a happy ending means a lot of changes in technology, the industry, even reader expectations: typewriter to laptop, print to digital, closed bedroom doors to doors flung wide.

  Twenty-five years also means a change in an author’s way of writing, her way of looking at the world and relationships, her way of putting words together to convey her meaning. In other words, an author’s voice changes over time, and mine most definitely has. If you’ve come to this title after reading my recent works, you will probably notice the difference.