Maybe his thoughts were still hidden from her. Maybe they always would be. But at least in this one place, they knew each other fully.
The hour was late. Though Lisette wanted to make the pleasure last for hours, Jonathan was too hungry, too reluctant to play the submissive forever. When he groaned and cursed and fisted his hands in the sheets, his control snapped so quickly it caught her off guard.
“No more,” he rasped. He stripped her flimsy gown away. “On your back, woman. Let me see you.”
She smiled up at him. “Nothing has changed. All the parts are still the same.”
He shook his head slowly. “That’s where you’re wrong. Each time I take you, I swear you dazzle me more. Your body is soft and curved and perfect, but that’s not even the best of it. You’re smart and funny and strong, and all those things pale in comparison to your huge heart.”
Her mouth dropped open. She had never heard him speak so poetically. In fact, she didn’t know he had it in him. Her eyes misted. “What a lovely thing to say.”
His smile was lopsided. “It’s all true.” He cupped her breast in his hand. “Now, at the risk of undoing all my fine words, I’m going to take you hard and fast, because I’ve wanted you for hours, Lizzy, and I’m afraid I might die if I don’t get inside you soon.”
It was just an expression. A funny way of expressing his arousal. But her throat tightened. “I want you just as badly, Jonathan Tarleton.” She pulled his head down for a kiss. “I’m all yours.”
* * *
Relief made him light-headed. Lizzy was being far more generous that he might have been were their situations reversed. She hadn’t taken him to task for his grouchy behavior earlier. Her empathy made him want to be a better man.
Though his erection ached and throbbed, he made himself wait. He would show her how much she meant to him even if he couldn’t say the words. After tucking an extra pillow beneath her head, he gave himself free rein to pleasure her until neither of them could bear any more.
He had rapidly grown addicted to the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. The fragrance of her shampoo. The way her spine arched off the bed when he found a spot on the inside of her thigh that made her tremble.
He tasted every inch of her skin, knew every soft, damp secret.
Deliberately he drove her higher and higher, holding her ruthlessly on the knife edge of release, denying them both what they wanted.
When she moaned his name and wrapped her arms around his neck, he knew the time had come. He settled between her thighs and fit the head of his sex at her entrance. “Watch,” he said. “Watch me take you.”
Her pupils were dilated, almost covering her irises. He had kissed her so long and so hard her lips were pink and swollen. When she looked down at the spot where their bodies joined, she nodded slowly, her expression arrested. “Yes, Jonathan. Yes.”
He entered her slowly, perhaps more slowly than he ever had before. Each tiny increment was exquisite torture. Her body gripped his, knew his. The connection was more than physical. It was painfully real and encompassing, and if he hadn’t been drowning in sheer physical bliss, he might have run screaming from the knowledge that he hadn’t managed to hold anything back from her.
He was losing himself completely.
When he was lodged inside her all the way, he hesitated. Most of his weight rested on his arms so as not to crush her. “Lizzy?”
“Yes?” Her expression was unguarded. Open. Revealing. Was that love he saw there? He wanted it to be so. He wanted to believe that Lizzy was with him because she needed him, not the other way around. He had kept so much of himself closed off for so long, it was habit now. He craved her love. Yearned for it.
Fear held him back. Fear of being weak. Fear that he would fail her by leaving her alone. “Never mind,” he muttered. “It will keep.”
He withdrew and thrust deep, sending both of them into delirium. It might have been hours or minutes that he moved wildly inside her, relishing the way her inner muscles clutched at him as if trying to link them forever. The sensation was exquisite and painful, and his body ached and shuddered and finally exploded.
Lizzy came, too. He heard her cry, felt the way her legs wrapped around his waist and her body lifted into him, trying to ride every last trembling wave.
When it was done, blackness overcame him. He slept instantly, their bodies still joined.
Seventeen
The return trip to Charleston was so uneventful and anticlimactic that Jonathan wished they had chosen to finish their week in Antigua. He felt completely normal, but it was too late now.
The only holdup they experienced was at the airport in St. John’s. They were forced to wait on the tarmac for an hour past their expected departure time, which meant it would be late afternoon when they touched down in Charleston, later still when they made it to the beach house.
It wasn’t really a problem. Jonathan’s father was away on a weeklong golf outing with his friends. Though the old man did little more than ride the cart, he enjoyed the company.
The housekeeper and chef had been summoned from their breaks. Jonathan would have to make it up to them later. In the meantime, the capable women would have dinner for four ready at six o’clock.
Jonathan and Lisette barely made it. They had both slept on the plane, and the trip had gone smoothly after the slow start. But the traffic in and around the Charleston airport when they exited at rush hour was heavy.
Neither of them spoke much on the drive out to the house. They were probably going to arrive just as Mazie and J.B. showed up.
Lisette pulled out a comb and compact, and fretted over her reflection.
He put a hand on her leg. “Relax. You look beautiful. It’s just my sister.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has crazy hair.”
He managed a chuckle though his chest was tight. He dreaded telling Mazie and J.B. what had happened in Antigua.
In the end, both vehicles swept through the gate at almost the exact same instant. They parked and Jonathan took a deep breath. “Let’s leave everything in the car until later.”
Lisette nodded and squeezed his hand. “It will be okay. The truth is always better than secrets.”
He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t really have a choice.
The four of them got out, exchanged hugs and climbed the front staircase. Once inside, fabulous smells wafted from the kitchen. Jonathan and Lisette had only snacked on the plane. And Jonathan had eaten sparingly at dinner the night before. His stomach growled audibly, making everyone laugh.
Mazie grinned at Lisette. “Didn’t you feed him down in Antigua?”
Lisette grimaced. “You know your brother. He does his own thing.”
Ordinarily they might have all enjoyed appetizers and drinks on the porch. As it was, since Jonathan was on an alcohol-free regimen, they went into the dining room at the housekeeper’s suggestion so dinner could be served hot.
The meal was incredible, especially for such short notice. Seared scallops. A light corn chowder. Spinach salad and angel food cake with fresh strawberries for dessert.
Mazie was remarkably patient. She endured the conversation about sports and movies and whether or not the upcoming hurricane season was going to be a bad one. But as soon as the last dish was cleared away, she shifted her chair back from the table, pinned Jonathan with a challenging gaze, and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Okay, big brother. Tell me what happened. Why did your honeymoon get cut short?”
* * *
Lisette’s heart went out to Jonathan. He was stone-faced, trapped by his sister’s interrogation. Lisette was positive that if he’d had his way, no one would ever have known what happened out on that boat. No one but Lisette.
When he didn’t say anything at first, she tried to deflect the attention from her silent husband. “We
had an incident,” she said, trying her best to downplay what had happened. But the facts were damning, and the other two adults at the table weren’t stupid.
J.B. frowned. “What kind of incident?”
Jonathan stared out the window, his jaw tight. The tension in the room was desperately uncomfortable.
Lisette tried again. “Jonathan experienced severe pain behind his right eye. It affected his vision for a number of hours.”
J.B. cursed under his breath. Mazie, predictably, started to cry.
Jonathan stood, rounded the table and put his arms around his sister from behind, kissing her cheek. “Don’t make a thing of this, sis. I’m fine now.”
His assurance was cold comfort.
Lisette had had over a day to get used to the idea that Jonathan might be incapacitated sooner rather than later. His sister and brother-in-law had not.
J.B. leaped to his feet and paced, his body language communicating his turmoil. “You know you’ll have to use a driver, right? You can’t take chances.”
Lisette expected Jonathan to reply angrily, but his half smile was resigned. “I know. We’ll deal with it.”
Before anyone could say another word, the housekeeper appeared in the doorway. Lisette didn’t know how much the woman had overhead, but she clearly hadn’t wanted to interrupt.
“There’s a car at the front gate, Mr. Tarleton. A Dr. Shapiro? He says he needs to speak to you. It’s urgent.”
Jonathan paled beneath his tan. “Buzz him in.”
A deadly silence fell around the table. Then something clicked for Lisette. She looked at Jonathan. He’s not your doctor...is he?”
“No.” Jonathan shrugged. “I can’t imagine what he wants.”
A dozen scenarios flashed through Lisette’s imagination, each one worse than the last. Maybe the cancer was further along than they had been led to believe. Jonathan’s family doctor was a general practitioner. This other doctor might have been sent to deliver the news.
When the housekeeper ushered the newcomer into the dining room, no one said a word. The man was in his early sixties. Distinguished. Only a sprinkle of silver at his temples.
Jonathan stuck out his hand. “Dr. Shapiro? I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jonathan Tarleton. Call me Jonathan.”
The older man wasted no time. “I’m the senior administrator at the hospital. May we speak in private, Jonathan? It’s a matter of some urgency.”
Jonathan’s pallor increased. He looked around the room. “This is my family. They can hear whatever you have to say.”
The doctor hesitated, clearly ill at ease. “Very well. There’s no way to dance around this, so I’ll just say it. You don’t have cancer. There’s no brain tumor.”
All the oxygen was sucked out of the room by the incredible pronouncement.
“How do you know?” Jonathan’s question was sharp.
Dr. Shapiro took a breath. “Our senior radiologist has been removed from the hospital’s roster. His credentials have been revoked by the state licensing board. For the past two years he has been abusing prescription drugs and other substances. He took on more and more cases, and in the process, misread or transposed results.
Jonathan spoke sharply. “So I’m not the only one involved?”
The other man winced. “Many patients have been affected, though none with such grave results as yours. Part of it was financial. The radiologist was billing insurance and siphoning off cash. He has incorrectly read and reported on dozens if not hundreds of test results. Yours was one case out of many.”
Mazie frowned. “I don’t understand. How could he rise to the level of senior staff under these circumstances?”
“He was one of our best. But apparently, he’s had some untreated issues of his own. His wife left him three years ago. That led to his recent downward spiral. I’m very sorry.”
Lisette’s brain struggled to do the math, and something didn’t add up. “But you’re not here to deliver good news, are you? That’s why you’re not smiling.” Her heart was beating so rapidly in her chest she thought she might faint. When she went to Jonathan and slipped her hand into his, her husband’s fingers were icy.
Dr. Shapiro’s expression grew grimmer still. “Your recent test results did confirm a serious problem. But it’s not either of the things you were told. You have a large brain aneurysm, Jonathan. As far as we can tell, it’s been leaking slowly. That accounts for the severe headaches that have come and gone.”
Mazie took her brother’s other hand. “But there’s a cure, surely. This is better than cancer.”
J.B. wrapped his arm around his wife protectively. “Easy, Maze. Let the man talk.”
Still, Jonathan was silent. The four of them faced the unwelcome visitor.
Dr. Shapiro ignored everyone in the room but the patient. “You’ll need surgery as soon as we can arrange it. A few more tests in the meantime, of course—just because now we know what we’re looking for—but no time wasted.”
Lisette bit down hard on her lower lip. “What’s the big rush? It’s been there a long time, right?”
The doctor glanced at her and then back at Jonathan. “It could rupture at any moment, son. In forty percent of cases, that event is fatal.”
Jonathan stepped away from his circle of loved ones. “And if it’s not fatal, I could end up comatose.”
Dr. Shapiro winced. “Neurological damage is a distinct possibility. That’s why we want to do surgery without delay. I’ve taken the liberty of contacting a specialist at Emory in Atlanta. He’s willing to come if we can work around his schedule. You’re young and otherwise healthy. Your prognosis should be positive. And of course—under the circumstances—the hospital will cover any and all associated costs not covered by your insurance.”
J.B. scowled. “I hardly think money is the issue here. Criminal negligence is more like it.”
Mazie, surprisingly, stepped up her game, appearing both calm and decisive. She kissed Jonathan and hugged Lisette. “You guys need time to talk. We’ll get out of here and leave you alone. I’ll text you first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, we’re only a phone call away.”
After they departed, Dr. Shapiro addressed Jonathan. “I’d like you to be at my office at ten in the morning. We’ll go over all the options. Do you have any more questions at the moment?”
Jonathan shook his head. “No. I’ll be there.”
Lisette shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for coming in person. It means a lot.”
The housekeeper showed the doctor to the door. Jonathan prowled the dining room, his expression thunderous. “Of course he came in person. They’re about to get sued by dozens of families. He’s doing damage control.”
“That’s not helping,” Lisette said.
“You know what would help?”
“What?”
“Having sex with my wife.”
* * *
Jonathan loved the fact that he could still make her blush.
She nodded slowly. “If you’re sure you feel like it.”
“I feel fine,” he muttered. “That’s the hell of it. C’mon. Let’s get our stuff out of the car and go to bed.”
By the time they grabbed their suitcases, the housekeeper and chef were finished in the kitchen. The two women bade them good-night. Jonathan locked up the house.
Outwardly, he was trying to act as if everything was normal. The reason for Lisette to be his wife had disappeared in an instant. No longer did he have to dread months of dwindling health. Either he recovered, or he would be gone.
Could he tell her he loved her? That he wanted to get her pregnant...to become a family for real? What would she say? Her deepest thoughts were still a mystery to him. He knew she cared about him at some level. She had a huge heart. But if he had this surgery and survived, would she want to stay?
The prospect
filled him with jittery anticipation. He no longer faced a death sentence. There was a decent chance he was going to make a full recovery. For the first time in forever, he felt hope and jubilation effervesce in his chest.
He and Lisette went upstairs. It dawned on him halfway down the hall that tonight was another first. Lisette had never slept with him at the beach house.
He paused in the doorway to the bedroom and sighed. “Well, damn.”
Lisette peeked around his shoulder and groaned.
Jonathan’s walk-in closet was enormous, though he used barely a third of it. He had charged the assistant housekeeper and her teenage daughter with moving all of Lisette’s personal belongings from her condo to her new residence. Obviously the two women had assumed they had the rest of the week to accomplish the task. Jonathan had forgotten to let them know about the change in plans.
At the moment, the big king-size bed was covered with stacks of Lisette’s clothes that had been carried over from her closet.
Lisette elbowed past him and set down her bags. “No worries. We can just hang it all up, and I can organize later. It won’t take us fifteen minutes.”
She was right. They grabbed one pile at a time and hung garments on the empty rods. Jonathan had longer arms. He was able to take more with each trip. But near the end, he got too ambitious. A few things that were still in plastic dry-cleaning bags caused everything to shift, and he lost the lot of it on the floor.
He waved Lisette away. “I’ve got this. Go unpack your bag. Get ready for bed.”
As he scooped up two hangars at a time, a white envelope fell out of a skirt pocket. He picked it up, ready to lay it aside, when he realized his name was neatly printed on the front. In Lisette’s handwriting.
Curious, he opened the flap and scanned the letter. Everything inside him went icy cold. She had been planning to leave him, to leave Tarleton Shipping. He looked at the date on the letter. This was why he had found her in his office that fateful day. While he’d been reeling from his diagnosis, Lisette had been taking steps to change her life, to move on.
A Contract Seduction Page 16
