Baby, Oh Baby! (37 page)

"Annie, sweetheart."

She gasped as he worked his way up to her panties. then slid a finger inside. She was slick and hot and ready—so very, very ready. He tugged her panties down and off, revealing soft titian curls.

"You are so beautiful," he said. He lay beside her, his fingers skimming over her flesh, not quite touching, making her strain toward his hand. "I've thought about this, about how you look naked, about how you feel, until I thought I'd go crazy."

"Me, too," she murmured. "I've been burning up, remembering how…." She gasped as his finger gently stroked the wet, sensitive center of her womanhood.

"When do you think those thoughts?" he murmured.

"All the time. But mostly here, alone, at night."

"Oh, yeah?" His hand moved back up her body. "When you think those thoughts, do you ever do anything about them?"

"Sometimes."

"Show me." He took her hands and guided them down. His hands hovered lightly over hers. Slowly, hesitantly, she touched herself.

It was the most erotic sight Jake had ever seen. He touched her then as she'd shown him; circling her swollen nub. "Like this?"

"Yes. Oh, yes." She drew her legs further apart, giving him greater access. She reached for his other hand, directing his finger to her most secret spot. "And here. I touch here, and I think about you. And I want ... Oh, Jake..."

He stroked her as she'd done, and her arousal fed his own, until he was feverish and aching. She looked up, her eyes glazed and heavy-lidded. "Jake... Jake, please.
Please…”

She reached for him, pulling him to her, lifting her hips, straining closer. He hovered over her, watching her lice, the need to please her greater even than the need for his own pleasure.

"Come here." She grabbed his buttocks and urged him toward her, into a hot, tight heaven where the pleasure was too keen for words, where sighs and moans were the only language needed. She moved under him, matching him stroke for stroke, a perfect fit in perfect rhythm.

It was as if they'd been born to be lovers. They shifted positions fluidly, finding each other's sweet spots, intuitively knowing just how to touch, where to stroke, what to kiss, and when.

He felt her muscles tense, heard her breathing quicken. When rhythmic spasms rocked her and she cried out his name, he followed right behind, diving headfirst off the ledge, into the sublime depths.

Long moments later, when his senses floated back to earth, he was aware of the rain pattering against the window. It seemed as if the drops formed a soft refrain, a chorus that echoed in his heart as he lay holding Annie.

Home. This is home.

Annie awoke the next morning to find herself cradled against Jake, spoon-fashion. His arm was wound around her, his hand curved under a breast. One of his legs was wedged between hers, and his breath was warm atop her head.

She closed her eyes against the daylight shining through the window, not so much wanting to shut out the day as to cling to the night. It had been the sweetest, most splendid night of her life. She wanted to clutch it tightly, to squeeze it to her heart, to press it into her memory like the wedding flowers pressed in Gran's Bible.

She loved Jake.-She'd known it for some time, but she hadn't wanted to admit,. even to herself, just how deeply her heart was involved. She loved who he was and what he was, what'd he'd been and who he was becoming. She loved him with a depth and intensity that was sure and true and timeless.

She loved him in the same way he still loved Rachel.

The thought stabbed her heart. She squeezed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but two eked out anyway. She turned her face into the pillow to hide them.

The movement woke Jake. His leg stirred between her thighs. "Good morning," he breathed in her ear.

"'Morning." She rapidly wiped her cheek with her fist, still keeping her back toward him.

His hand opened, then closed around her breast. Arousal shot through her. She pulled away. "I—I'd better get up and get dressed. We have a houseful of guests."

"Let them fend for themselves." His thumb flicked across her nipple, then his hand moved lower—to the place where her breast met her rib, then down to the curve of her belly.

Annie struggled against the whirlpool of heat he was inciting inside her. "Madeline will be awake soon, and she's . not old enough to be fend-worthy. And then there's Hot Dog Junior—I'm sure she needs to be let out—and ..."

"All right," Jake said with a reluctant sigh, releasing his hold. She sat up, trying to cover herself with the sheet, keenly aware of his eyes on her. Jake pulled himself to a sitting position, too, and leaned against a pillow on the headboard. “But before we leave this room, there's something I want to say."

Annie's heart lurched to a standstill, then beat a wild, hopeful double-time. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to say he loved her. Please, please, please, oh please, She prayed.

He lightly trailed his finger across her shoulder. "Last night was incredible."

All Annie could do was dumbly nod.

"And I've been thinking. You and I ... well, we have more going for us than a lot of couples. We get along pretty well, we make each other laugh, and we're great in bed together."

Annie's mouth went dry. Please, please, please.

"So there's really no reason get a divorce. Why don't we just continue on the way we're doing?"

Annie waited, but the longed-for words didn't come. Hope swirled out of her like water down an unplugged drain. "It's not a marriage without love," she finally said.

He reached out and took her hand. "We both love Madeline."

"That's not enough." Annie struggled to keep her voice from cracking. "My parents both loved me, but that didn't hold their marriage together. And their unhappiness made me miserable."

"We're sensible people. If it ever gets to the point we can't get along, well, that's when we'll divorce."

He made it sound so logical, so orderly. But her feelings for him weren't orderly at all; they were strong and deep and emotional. "Marriage doesn't work that way." Her voice wobbled slightly, but she forced herself to a continue. "Marriage is about love and commitment. If you don't have that, then everything else will eventually fall apart."

"I don't see why we can't just give it a try."

"Because ..."
Because I've been in a one-sided marriage, and I know how bad it hurts. Because I love you, and you're still in love with your late wife.

She pulled the sheet free from the foot of the bed and gathered it around her, gathering up her courage as well. "I'm not willing to settle for that. I want a no-holds-barred, not-holding-anything-back, in-it-with-everything-I've-got kind of love. That's what I have to give, and that's what I want in return. I want a man who'll love me with his whole heart and pledge to be with me his whole life. I don't want to be second best or second rate or anybody's second choice."

Jake stared down at the covers. She saw his Adam's apple move. She hurried on before she lost her nerve.

“Besides, it'll be easier for Madeline to grow up with us already divorced, than for her to get used to us being together and have us split up later. She won't miss what she's never had."

Jake heaved a heavy sigh.

Annie's eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back, determined to see this through, for Madeline's sake and for her own. The longer this went on, the longer she let herself love him, knowing he didn't love her back, the harder it would be when it ended. "I think we should stick with our original plan. We said we'd stay married for five months. Well, that will be up soon. We ought to end this then."

Silence stretched between them. Out the window, a blue jay cawed and a cricket chirped. "Are you sure that's what you want?" Jake asked.

No, her heart shouted. What I want is for you to love me. "Yes," she whispered softly.

He sighed again. "Okay. I'll draw up the papers. Joint custody, with you as the custodial parent."

They sat there in silence for another long moment. Annie fought the urge to cry.

"What will we do about the holidays?" Jake asked.

"You can come here. You're welcome any time you want. A big advantage of divorcing now is that we can keep it friendly."

"How friendly?" He gave a slow, sexy smile, his finger tracing a sizzling path up her arm. "Is there any chance we could still—"

Annie put her hand on his, stopping its treacherous path toward her breast. "You told me that when things get physical, they get emotional, and when they get emotional, they get messy. That's exactly what we're trying to avoid, isn't it?"

"I suppose." He looked at her, his eyes full of longing and regret. "Damn."

Annie gave a sad smile. "My sentiments exactly."

Wrapping the sheet around herself like a toga, she rose from the bed. "I'd better get dressed. Madeline will be up any minute."

She strode to the master bathroom, her back toward him. She managed to close the door before her tears began to escape. Dropping the sheet, she stepped into the shower and turned it on, muffling her sobs with the stinging spray.

Chapter Twenty

Susanna's high heels clicked on the polished floor of the Tulsa airport concourse as she hurried toward the gate. She was running late. She'd thought she'd timed things perfectly, but she hadn't counted on it being so hard to find a place to park.

Oh, dear—she hoped they hadn't boarded the plane yet. The airline they were flying didn't have assigned seating or a first-class section, so she hadn't been able to request a seat by her husband. She'd practiced how she might handle things, but she didn't have a clue what she'd do if Tom and Kelly were already seated together on the plane.

Her palms grew damp and her stomach bucked queasily. She was tempted to just turn and run, to abandon this whole scheme and flee back to the safety of her home.

But it was her very home she was struggling to save, she reminded herself. Her life with Tom. Her marriage. And this was war. Only a yellow-bellied coward ran from a confrontation on the field of battle. Annie had said she'd have to fight to keep what she loved, and by golly, Susanna was ready to fight with all she had.

She'd made the decision three days ago, when she'd met Jake for lunch at a trendy suburban bistro. She'd flat out asked him the question that had been gnawing at her heart.

"Tell me the truth, Jake. I need to know. Are Tom and Kelly having an affair?"

Jake had looked miserably ill at ease. Blowing out a hard sigh, he'd looked away, but when he'd looked back, his gaze had been straightforward. "I don't think so. At least, not yet. But she seems to have made Tom her mission °" His gaze had met hers, his eyes somber. "She's going to the convention in New Orleans, and I don't think she's attending to sharpen her litigation skills."

Susanna could no longer ignore it could no longer afford to sit by and hope the situation would resolve itself. Her home was under attack, and she had to strike back.

Jostling through the foot traffic of a disembarking plane, she craned her neck around the crowd and finally spied her gate, only to have her spirits plummet. Darn— the waiting area was nearly empty. Tom and Kelly must already be on the plane.

Her heart pounded like an unbalanced washing machine. She'd just have to brazen it out. She was going to have to fight her, way through a lot over the next few days, and she might as well get started. She'd decided to lead with her strengths—her ladylike charm, her polite southern upbringing, but most of all, her mother's advice on how to handle adversaries. "Kill them with kindness," she used to say. "Remember, Susanna, you'll trap more flies with honey than vinegar." Well, she intended to trap a fly, all right—the one right on the front of her husband's trousers.

By the time Susanna got her boarding pass, the last of the passengers had trudged down the gateway. She squared her shoulders and resolutely did the same.

She'd no sooner entered the jet's cabin than she saw them, seated in the third row. Tom sat on the aisle, his head cocked at an attentive angle, and Kelly sat beside him, touching his arm as she talked.

Tom seemed to feel her gaze. He looked up, and for a fraction of a second, the expression on his face told it all. It was a look of pure guilt—the transparent shame of a child caught red-handed with the lid off a cookie jar. The look in Tom's eye zinged an arrow straight through her heart.

She'd already known, of course; but now she knew.

Her husband quickly regained his composure. His jaw tightened and his chin tilted up. Susanna had lived with him long enough to know what that meant. When Tom was cornered, he lashed out. She couldn't give him a chance to launch an attack.

She forced her brightest Southern belle smile. "Surprise!"

Tom's eyes were wary, his expression displeased. "Susanna—what are you doing here?"

She kept smiling. "Well, honey, we've both been so busy lately that we've been like ships passing in the night. I know you were worried that I'd be bored at the conference, but I decided to surprise you and come along anyway. I know you'll be busy, but at least we'll have the flight and our nights together."

She glanced over at Kelly, as if she were just noticing her. She forced her mouth to continue smiling, even though she felt as if her face would crack from the effort. "Why, Kelly—how nice to see you! Are you going to the conference, too?"

The blonde's eyes were full of venom; she didn't bother to reply.

"The best way to treat a slight is to pretend it didn't happen," Susanna's mother used to tell her. She used the advice now. "Well, how delightful. I'm sure we'll see a lot of you there."

A slender flight attendant materialized in the aisle behind Susanna. "Excuse me, ma'am, but you need to take a seat"

"Why, certainly." Susanna determinedly kept smiling. "Kelly, dear, would you mind moving over so I can sit by my husband?"

Kelly shot Tom a glance so sharp it could have shaved his whiskers without a nick. All the same, she sullenly complied.