Angel's Peak (10 page)

“I don’t care. I’m going to take you away from him.”

“We have issues to sort out…”

“Yeah, and about a lifetime to do it in. Franci, Franci, for just a little while, let’s think about all the things that are right with us, and not the few things we couldn’t agree on.”

“It wasn’t just a good-natured little debate,” she reminded him. “It was so major it caused us to—”

He came down on her mouth hard, pushing her back, taking her mouth with power. She counted the seconds till she couldn’t resist him and then opened her lips, letting him inside. He slipped his hands inside her coat and ran them slowly up her ribs. Her coat open, he pushed her against her own front door with the length of his body, and the press of his arousal right at the V of her legs caused her some serious amnesia. Maybe it was a disagreement, one that wouldn’t be so debilitating now. Whatever it was—she needed him. Needed.

And as had happened only with Sean, acquiescence turned to throbbing hunger. He could make her crazy with desperate desire.

He turned with her in his arms, never releasing her lips, and opened the front door, allowing both of them to move right into her house. He closed the door behind them with a bang and pressed her against it on the inside.

Oh, boy, she remembered this trick. If there was anything as likely to weaken her as taking her to bed, it was pushing her up against the wall. Something most men didn’t have a clue about, Sean had perfected. And she clung to him. He ground against her and she gyrated her hips against him, knowing there would be no turning back now. Sean had an unfair advantage; their sex life had been incredible.

In the distance, she heard Harry whine, then growl. It wasn’t like Harry to growl…

“Franci?” he whispered against her lips. “Do you have a dog?”

“Uh-huh. Harry. Little guy. It’s okay.”

“Hm,” Sean answered, going after her lips again. His hands ran smoothly over her bottom to her thighs and he lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he held her there, moaning his approval, slipping his hands under her purple dress to hold her perfect ass. He loved that dress; it felt as silky under his hands as it looked on her body…and he was going to get rid of it as soon as possible.

The growling intensified. Then there was an angry bark and snap just as Harry sunk his teeth into the back of Sean’s leg.

“Arrrggghhh!” Sean rumbled, pulling back sharply, jumping in surprise and shaking one leg, interrupting and disturbing some totally perfect foreplay. “Jesus!”

“What?” she whispered, breathless.

He looked over his shoulder at the dog. “Don’t do that!” he yelled at Harry, causing him to back up and whimper a little. Then he turned back to Franci. “Where’s the bedroom?”

She tilted her head. “Down the hall, first door on the left,” she said weakly. He carried her like that, his big hands under her butt, her legs wrapped around him, down the short hall to her bedroom. He limped slightly. Just inside the bedroom, he kicked the door closed, locking the dog out. He peeled off her coat, dropping it to the floor, then he fell with her on the bed, still crushing her to him, still possessing her mouth. Without releasing her lips, his jacket joined her coat on the floor. In the back of her mind she knew she wasn’t supposed to be doing this. But in the front of her mind, this was perfect. He felt absolutely perfect. And she was so hot that if anyone tried to stop her now, she might tear them limb from limb.

It had been a long time since she’d been this person. Of course, the last time had been with Sean, which partially explained this time. As she ran her hands over his chest, shoulders, arms, back, she couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get him close enough, and she began pulling at his shirt. She tugged it out of his pants and pushed her hands underneath to caress his naked chest. His pecs were hard, his belly flat; there was a soft mat of hair. Her fingers teased his nipples and brought them into hard little bullets. She was panting, gasping, biting and tugging gently at his lips. She had become completely wild with absolutely no concept of how this was possible just minutes after she had suggested this was a bad idea. But it didn’t matter—she grabbed the front of his shirt and tore it open, sending the buttons flying, pinging off various surfaces around the room.

“Whoa,” Sean said against her lips. He let the shirt fall off his shoulders, then tugged her dress up. He sat back on his heels between her spread legs, pulled her to an upright position and worked that purple dress up and up, over her head and away. His hands went to her panties…

Her hands were on his belt buckle while his fingers tested the elastic of her very tiny panties. They came off faster than his belt buckle opened; she found herself kicking out of them crazily, frantically. Then she went after that belt again and it wasn’t moving. She whimpered her need to get past that belt, that zipper.

“Easy,” he whispered. “Easy.”

“If it was easy, you’d be naked,” she returned, her breath coming unevenly.

Sean chuckled. “Hang on,” he said, giving her a hand and getting out of his jeans. All their clothes were suddenly flung around the room and they were pressed together, naked, hot and panting. His lips went to her breast, his tongue teasing a nipple into life, while her hand immediately coiled around him and he shuddered, groaning. Mouths together again, bodies pressed tight, he slipped a hand lower. His fingers glided smoothly into her and she ground against his hand. “Yeah,” he groaned appreciatively. “Okay. Okay. I just need a second, honey. Hang on.”

He rolled away from her and grabbed his jeans off the floor, shaking out his wallet, sifting through it quickly, locating a condom.

In that moment that he wasn’t touching her, Franci froze. Her dark eyes were wide, her body suddenly growing cool in his absence. Temporary sanity. She noticed a picture of herself and her daughter on the bureau across the room and pinched her eyes closed, pulled her legs back together. She couldn’t go through with this, no matter how much…He never forgot the condom; he didn’t want children. Well, he forgot it that once…How can I let this happen?

But then he was back, against her, covering her with his large, warm, hard body. He grabbed her wrists, pulled her hands over her head to hold them there, gently parted her legs with a strategically placed knee and claimed her lips. Ah…she thought. That’s what she remembered—that mouth, those lips, all that feeling. Sean. Passion. Hunger. She let him kiss her, let his tongue enter. But her response had cooled; she was worried about what she was doing!

Sean left her lips and rose above her, looking into her eyes. “Uh-oh,” he said. “You’re thinking. All of a sudden, you’re thinking.”

“This shouldn’t be happening now,” she whispered weakly.

“Oh, it’s happening,” he said. “Believe me, it’s happening.”

“This will make sorting everything out even harder,” she said.

“Fuck the problems for a little while. Stop thinking. Go back to that other place, where you were just wanting.”

“I’m not sure I can,” she said, giving her head a little shake.

He touched her lips softly, then harder. He traced them with his tongue. “Sure you can,” he whispered. “Nobody wants like you do, Franci. Work with me here.” He possessed her mouth, then his fingers found her most vulnerable spot between her legs and a delicious moan escaped her as she lunged her hips toward him. Amazing, she thought, how Sean’s skillful mouth, his talented hand, could completely numb her mind and quiet the chatter. He let go of her wrists; his lips found her breast and, with precision, he entered her in one long, deep thrust that made her gasp and push back against him to bring him home.

“God,” she said in a breath. “Oh, God, oh, God.” Her hands were on his back, holding him tightly against her, running up and down in slow, rough caresses. She grabbed the hard muscles of his butt and pulled him against her, into her, hearing him groan. Every nerve ending was on fire; there was a longing inside her that needed to be taken care of right away. She did exactly what she thought she couldn’t—she stopped thinking and let her body take over, bucking beneath him, moaning, whimpering, clinging to him, riding with him in a powerful, stormy, wild pumping that teased the deepest part of her into a hunger so strong, it robbed her of breath. She gasped, wanting and craving and needing. She wrapped her legs around him, scraped her nails down his back and felt the tension shatter inside her, bathing her in a blinding, pulsing heat that flowed from her core to every extremity.

“Ahhhh,” he sighed. “Oh, honey,” he whispered so softly she barely heard. “Oh, baby, that’s the way…” And then he took his—thrusting into her hard, letting it go, throbbing with his own pleasure.

Then she fell limp, satisfied, a pile of stress and yearning that had gone all soft and weak beneath him. A small laugh escaped her. Something about a fabulous orgasm always made her laugh a little.

Really, she hadn’t had one like that in a good four years.

“Funny?” he asked.

“Not even,” she said. Then she laughed again, softly, lightly. “I suddenly feel so good.”

“No kidding,” he said, and he rolled off her carefully, lying beside her, spent.

He dashed off to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, then was back, holding her again. They were quiet for a few moments. Then Franci turned onto her side, raised up on an elbow, looked down into his handsome green eyes and said, “Now, we can’t do that again. We have to sort out our issues.”

“Oh, Jesus,” he said. “Why me?”

“Why you, what?”

“This isn’t the best time to become completely irrational,” Sean said.

“Well, I don’t think I’m irrational at all, but why do you say that?” she asked.

“We’re naked,” he answered. “We’re naked after the best sex either one of us has had in a long time, and we should be cuddly. You used to want to be cuddly. What’s wrong with you?”

She frowned at him. “How do you know that’s the best sex I’ve had in a long time?”

“You tore my clothes off. You left scars on my back.” He smiled at her. “Just an observation, hardly a complaint.”

“Well…actually…Oh, never mind, it’s really not your business.”

“Your dog bit me,” he said. “I think he severed my Achilles tendon.”

“I told you,” she went on, “I didn’t stop living when you told me to hit the road,” she said, ignoring his accusation about her cocker spaniel.

“Franci, Franci, that isn’t what I did. You said you were leaving—I said fine, if that’s the way you feel. Come on, not now. Not tonight. And it doesn’t matter if you had sex with someone. Or with a hundred—Forget I said that. I don’t want to think about this.”

“I don’t sleep around like you do,” she said, curling against him. “We can’t do this again,” she said, but she made no attempt to cover herself and neither did he. They lay there, snuggled, nude, in post-coital rapture.

“I think we can do it again before morning,” he said.

“No, this isn’t going to work. We’re not lovers, Sean. We’re ex-lovers. That’s why that went so well. That’s all it is.”

“I doubt that’s all,” he replied.

“Oh, that’s all. You and I had pretty much perfected it by the time we split up.”

“Wanna bet?” he asked, covering her body with his. “We had it perfected the first time. I remember, and so do you.”

Damned if he wasn’t right. She couldn’t see her way out of this mess.

“We do have one little problem. I had that one condom, just for safekeeping. I don’t have another one.”

She sighed in resignation that came too easily. “I might have a couple.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Baby, everything is up.”

Great sex not only made Franci feel good, it made her very sleepy. They made love twice more. Softer and sweeter and slower, but just as mind-bending. They spent hours making love. Then she pushed herself up against Sean in a way that was at once brand-new and very familiar. She used to sleep with him this way—her back up against his front, her head on his arm while his lips bothered her neck. He used to pull her long hair aside to kiss, lick and suck on her neck, but there was no hair to get in his way now. His arm was draped over her waist, his hand capturing her breast. She felt, for the first time in such a long time, like she was in the right place at the right time. But probably with the wrong man.

Morning would be soon enough to feel guilty and stupid. So, she slept.

“Were you ever lonely, Franci?” he asked in a whisper against her neck. “Without me?”

Her eyes popped open, but she kept her breathing even, pretending to be sleeping.

“I never thought about it, about being lonely without you,” he whispered. “But I kept wondering why I was so empty.” He kissed her neck. “I looked for you in so many women and never understood why it didn’t work. Never understood it was because I loved you.”

She pinched her eyes closed against a tear.

He sighed deeply, pulling her close against him. “I want to take you to the Alps to ski—we used to talk about doing that. Remember? And I want to go with you to Aruba, to dive and lay on the beach. We’ll get one of those huts on stilts—we’ll make love outside.”

She heard him yawn deeply; he kissed her neck again.

“I thought eventually I’d get over you. I didn’t know I’d never get over you because I loved you.”

And then the talking stopped and she heard his light snore. Very softly she whispered, “Yes, I was lonely. You have no idea…”

At six-thirty in the morning, amazed to have slept so well, Franci slipped out of bed. She showered, toweled her short hair, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. She stepped out of the bathroom to see Sean lying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the bed, the sheet pulled over his head and shoulders, but one long, muscular leg and his naked butt peeking out. The shower hadn’t even disturbed him; he was out cold. She shuddered. She’d completely worn him out. She hadn’t had sex like that in more than four years. That wasn’t exactly their typical lovemaking, but then there was no typical with Sean. It could be wild. Or sweet. Daring. Luxurious. It was never the same old thing. And it had always been whatever Franci needed at the time.

He had probably the nicest butt she’d ever seen, and some unattractive scratches on his back. There was also the perfect imprint of a small canine mouth right on his Achilles tendon. She shivered again. Oh, boy, she thought. I have really screwed this up. Now everything is about ten times more complicated.

She remembered a time she’d been so grateful to meet a man with whom she shared that kind of powerful chemistry. Now she was pretty sure she was cursed.

She turned the picture of her with Rosie facedown on the bureau before leaving the room.

She’d have to get him up, have a little talk with him before she went to fetch Rosie. Franci’s nerves were getting the best of her so she tried to keep busy, first feeding Harry on the patio, then coming back indoors to brew coffee in the kitchen. When it was ready she sat with her coffee and thought, I should probably get checked for STDs. Then she thought about the talk she was about to have with Sean—it would be quick and to the point. It was obvious a child lived here. If he hadn’t noticed Rosie’s picture in her bedroom, he would never miss the lavender bedroom right next to her own. There were toys in the dining room and right outside the French doors on the patio.

As these thoughts raced around her brain she had to admit she was afraid of his reaction. If anything happened to hurt Rosie, she’d never forgive herself, and yet she dreaded the thought of never having another night like last night again in her life. Because when he found out what she’d done, he’d be furious first, then he’d be gone.

In Franci’s bed, Sean rolled over with a moan, opening his eyes. He smelled coffee. She was up ahead of him. His very next thought was that maybe he could get her back in here. Soon. If he had the strength. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced a night like that. At least four years ago, he thought with a smile. He sat up slowly. He found his jeans on the floor along with a lot of clothes. Stumbling to the bathroom, he took a look in the mirror; yep, it was him. Good—he was afraid he’d just been hallucinating again. He rinsed his mouth, peed, then pulled on his jeans.

Sean found Franci sitting at the breakfast bar behind a steaming cup of coffee, and the first thing that came to mind was that she looked like a mere girl—her cheeks rosy, lips pink and swollen from hours of kissing, her face a mixture of innocence and something that seemed almost shy, but she was a demon lover. A phenomenon. There were times during the night he felt as if he’d rubbed up against both death and eternity at the same time. He took a step; he intended to kiss that mouth before there was any talking.

“We have to talk,” she said.

Oh, Jesus, she was thinking again. If there was one area in which they were complete opposites—Franci took everything so seriously. He, on the other hand, had trouble getting serious about much of anything and it drove her crazy. He stopped where he was and just stood there, trying to get his bearings. “Can I have a cup of coffee, please? Before you get started?”

“Help yourself,” she said, tilting her head toward the pot.

He leaned against the counter and took a few sips, trying to clear his head. She took a few sips, remaining blessedly quiet. He could tell by the expression on her face, there was going to be some drama about last night. He mentally prepared himself; she was going to warn him it didn’t mean they were getting back together. She could say that all day; he wouldn’t argue with her. But he wasn’t leaving; he wasn’t letting her walk away from him again.

Franci was thinking, too. She thought maybe the best thing would be to just blurt it out—Sean, I left you because I was pregnant. I have a daughter, your daughter. I have twenty reasons why I didn’t feel I could tell you before now and I—

Just then there was a sound at the front door and Franci gasped. She knew instantly what had happened. Franci and Vivian had an understanding. Vivian would go out to get the newspaper from the end of her sidewalk, look down the block at Franci’s house and, if there was a car in the driveway, Rosie would not be allowed to go rushing home to her mother until after a long, leisurely breakfast at Grandma’s house. And a quick phone call to clear the way.

There was no car in the driveway! Sean’s car was parked across the street along the curb.

Rosie pushed the door open, all grins and bouncing red curls. “Mama, we watched a scary moobie and ate pizza on Grandma’s good couch!” She ran to Franci, her coat not even buttoned, and Franci reached for her. Rosie threw her arms around Franci’s neck and Franci lifted her up, hugging her fiercely, rocking her back and forth. Once she had her daughter in her arms, she wasn’t afraid anymore. It was that way with Rosie and Franci—little else in the world really mattered.

“Morning, cupcake,” Franci said. “You didn’t let Grandma sleep in, did you?”

She shook her head, giggling. Then she spied Sean, leaning against the stove in the small kitchen. He held a coffee cup in one hand; his green eyes were wide and fixed, his mouth open in shock and disbelief.

“Where’s his shirt?” Rosie asked.

Franci pulled Rosie onto her lap more firmly, one leg on each side of her. “I think he forgot something,” she said. “Rosie, this is Sean. Sean, this is my daughter, Rose.”

“Wide Iwish Rose,” Rosie corrected her mother.

“That’s right,” Franci said with a smile. “My wild Irish Rose.”

“Mama, what’s Iwish again?”

“A country. A beautiful country that’s green like your eyes.” She glanced at Sean. He was in a state of shock. She hoped she wouldn’t have to resuscitate him in front of Rosie.

Franci heard footsteps. The door squeaked open farther and the doorknob rattled. “Good Lord, Franci, you left your keys in the lock! Not exactly safe! And presumably not locked, either, since Rosie—”

Vivian stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted Sean. She gulped.

“Mom, you remember Sean, don’t you?”

Sean recovered himself. His eyes were no longer wide, but narrowed, and his mouth was fixed in an unhappy smile. “Vivian,” he said with a nod. Then he sipped from his mug.

“Sean,” Vivian said, her hand rising to her cheek as she looked at the purple bruise on Sean’s.

“It’s healing up nicely,” Sean said. “How’ve you been, Viv?”

“Good,” she said a bit weakly. “Very well. Thank you.”

“Mama, did he fall down?”

“Yes, poor thing. But he’ll be just fine. Will you do something for me, peanut? I’d like to have a cup of coffee with Sean before he has to leave. Would you mind having breakfast at Grandma’s? Then I’ll come get you, and later, after we clean our rooms, I think we should take Harry to the dog park, then maybe we’ll bake something and put on one of your best movies.”

“Aww,” she whined.

“Come on, Rosie,” Vivian said authoritatively, a hint of panic in her voice. “I’ll let you scramble the eggs. Come on, right now.” She plucked Rosie off Franci’s lap and had her out the door so quickly it was almost a magic trick.

That left Franci and Sean standing in a very small kitchen in deafening silence. No one moved as the seconds ticked by. Then Sean lifted the coffeepot and filled both their cups. He pulled out a bar stool and sat down. He focused on her eyes and waited. When she didn’t speak, he said, “Tell me you didn’t—?”

She gave a brave nod. “I was just about to tell you when she came bounding in the front door. Rosie doesn’t walk anywhere.”

“You were just about to tell me? A few years after the fact?”

“I told you I needed a commitment, that I wanted a child…children. You were adamant—you were not interested in the same things I was.”

“You might’ve left out a couple of things—like you were pregnant. That red hair and those green eyes—they’ve been in my family for generations.”

“Did you really think I would tell you? After the way you acted about the whole idea?”

“I didn’t have the facts,” he said, anger seeping into his tone.

“Do you even remember how it was? Do you remember that I cried and said it was the most important thing to me and you said I’d have to come up with other important things because you weren’t getting into all that? Do you remember telling me not to let the door hit me in the ass? Do you remember saying, ‘Fat chance! Not in this lifetime’?”

“And do you remember telling me I was a child, an irresponsible fuck-around who would never grow up? That if I couldn’t settle down and have a wife and children, you weren’t interested in wasting any more time on me? Remember, Franci? But you didn’t tell me you were pregnant!”

“I couldn’t! I was afraid to!”

“Aw, Jesus, Mary and Joseph—afraid? You’ve never had any reason to be afraid of me!”

“I was afraid you’d marry me!”

“That was what you wanted!”

“I didn’t want you to marry me because I was pregnant! I wanted you to marry me because you loved me!”

“I did love you! I just didn’t want to be married!”

“Or have children!” she shouted back. She pinched her eyes closed and took a steadying breath. She spoke quietly. “I didn’t want you to be stuck with us. More to the point, I didn’t want us to be stuck with you, regretting our accident every day of our marriage. I wanted my child. I wanted to raise her knowing she was wanted. Loved. You will never understand this, Sean, and I don’t expect you to—but when my period was five minutes late, I started to love her. Passionately. And it grew by the day. If I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure that you’d love her just as much, I wasn’t willing to take a chance on you.”

“Were you never going to tell me?” he asked. “If I hadn’t bumped into you, were you—”

“Yes, I was going to tell you. I was going to have to—Rosie has just started asking questions. I was dreading it, but I was going to tell you.”

“Dreading it? Because you knew how pissed I’d be?”

She gave a huff of laughter. Sometimes he was so dense. “No, Sean,” she said patiently. “I don’t care if you get mad at me. I was afraid you’d hurt Rosie. Reject her. Ignore her. Break her heart.”

Sean got that stunned look on his face again because he hadn’t even gotten that far yet with processing all that had happened. In his mind he’d just found out Franci was pregnant, and it really ticked him off that he hadn’t been told. But life had hit fast-forward; she was almost four years old and asking questions about her father. He had absolutely no idea what a father did with a four-year-old. He had even less idea what a single father did!