I Know Who Holds Tomorrow (29 page)

Authors: Francis Ray

BOOK: I Know Who Holds Tomorrow

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Continuing to his office, he thought of his twins. At that age Adrian would have tried to climb over the side with Adair following close behind. He couldn't believe they'd be nineteen in a couple of months.

His steps slowed. His hand rubbed over the back of his neck. He was dating a woman sixteen years older than his kids. Entering his office, he
seriously considered seeing if he could still do a hundred push-ups. He went to his desk instead. He'd probably have a coronary and where would that leave him?

But wasn't sex just as strenuous?

For a man who never worried, he had certainly developed a bad case. Picking up his gold fountain pen, he flipped it end over end, then glanced at the framed picture of the twins. He'd taught them to go after what they wanted. To at least get in the game, play fair, but play to win with no regrets if you had given it your all. No excuses. No time-outs.

Tossing the fountain pen on the desk, he positioned himself on the floor for his push-ups. Better to find out now than with Camille.

Zachary hadn't known what to expect from Madison when he went to her house Monday after work, but it certainly hadn't been Gretchen answering the door. “Yes?” the maid inquired politely.

“Zachary Holman. Is Madison at home?”

“Yes, sir. Come in. I'll tell her you're here.”

She didn't ask him to sit down, so he didn't. He felt like a lowly servant, hat in hand, coming to see the mistress of the house. He didn't like it.

The door to Madison's office opened down the hallway and she came out carrying Manda. “Good evening, Zachary. I have some paperwork to do, but Manda is all yours.” Face expressionless, she held Manda out to him. “You're welcome to stay here or take her out.”

“We'll go outside to the swing.”

Irritation swept across her face for the briefest moment. “Gretchen is here if you need anything.” She wiggled Manda's bare foot. “Have fun. Thanks for lunch today, but it won't be necessary in the future.”

“Whatever you say.” She couldn't have made it much clearer that she didn't want him in her life.

“Good-bye.” Turning, she went back down the hall and into her office.

“Ma-da,” Manda cried, looking in the direction Madison had gone.

“Looks like we're on our own.” Carrying Manda, Zachary went into the backyard.

Madison told herself not to, but somehow she found herself in the living room peeking though the sheers at Manda and Zachary. She desperately wished he hadn't stayed around to tempt her. Despite everything she had tried to convince herself of, she wanted to be out there, to have him hold her, kiss her mindless again, andâ

She let the curtain fall and she went back to her office. She couldn't, wouldn't, think about him that way. It wasn't proper.

Besides, she was obviously not very astute in picking men and knowing their feelings. She'd forgiven Wes, but she had no intention of being duped again.

Sitting at her desk, she picked up the sheet of paper listing the possible topics of shows. No man would ever interfere with her life again. She wouldn't let it happen.

Gordon was waiting for Camille Wednesday night when she disembarked from the plane. Seeing her, he was glad he had been putting stress on his heart. She wore a red sundress in a lightweight material that shifted and flowed over her body and stopped at least five inches above her knees. She had impossibly long legs and he immediately thought of them wrapped tightly around his waist. On her feet were four-inch red sandals with a wisp of a strap across the toes and one just above her ankles. By the time she reached him, his breathing was hard and he was harder.

“You trying to give me a coronary?” he asked, taking the handle of her roll-on.

She flashed a grin, then linked her arm through his. “Thank you. And no, I have plans for you.”

“Goodness, Camille,” he said, groaning.

She laughed a throaty sound, one meant for lovers. “How was your week?”

“Hectic.” Because he hadn't been able to get his mind off her. “Yours seems to have been good.”

“Learned a lot, and it was great seeing old friends,” she told him as they made their way outside. “The main thrust, as it always is is finding ways to decrease paperwork, increase public awareness, and getting people to report possible abuse.” All playfulness left her voice.

“If there is anything I or the station can do, let me know.” Opening the car door, he placed her suitcase in the backseat. He turned back and she was in his arms, her greedy mouth on his.

Gordon thought if he did have a coronary, he'd die a happy man, and quickly took the kiss deeper. She was with him all the way.

“Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?”

“For caring.” Her fingers tenderly rubbed the back of his neck. “So many people don't.” She stepped back, her playful smile flashing as she opened her door and slipped inside. “I had an early lunch and the peanuts they served on the flight didn't cut it. Do you think you could feed a girl?”

“I know the perfect place.”

TWENTY-SIX

C
AMILLE HADN'T BEEN SURPRISED when Gordon pulled into the garage of a magnificent, traditional house. The house had a cozy feel despite the twenty-five-foot ceilings in the living room. Gold, oyster, and chocolate colors effortlessly tied one room to the other. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thanks. We moved in about three years ago. An electrical fire caused extensive damage to the old place and I decided it was a good time as any to move.”

Sipping her wine, she glanced around the stainless-steel kitchen. “You did it in grand style.”

“We enjoy it.”

She slipped off the stool in front of the island and came to peer over his shoulder at the pot he was stirring. She inhaled appreciatively. “I hope that tastes as good as it smells.”

“It does.” He held out the wooden spoon filled with bits of chicken, Polish sausage, corn, and okra to her. “One of Mama's specialties. You throw everything but the kitchen sink in here.”

Gingerly she tasted. Spicy and delicious. “More.”

“I'm going to give you all you can handle.”

Camille sucked in her breath. Anticipation zipped through her. “I hope you can back that up.”

“Only one way to find out.” He cut off the fire. “How hungry are you?”

Her fingers wobbled on the stern of the glass. “I suppose if my mind was occupied with other things, I could wait for a little while.”

“Let's see how long.” He pulled her into his arms, his mouth crashing
down on hers. She was ready, sinking into him and the kiss. Heat and need shot through them both.

His hands drew the thin straps of the dress over her arm, past the lush swell of her breasts to the delicate lace strapless bra. A little black bow sat naughtily in the center. He pressed his lip to the swell, felt her tremble. When the dress wouldn't come down any farther, he gathered the material in both hands and pulled it over her head, letting it fall heedlessly to the floor.

He sucked in his breath as he let his eyes roam the length of her. Past the lush breasts to the narrow waist, the scrap of lace that lovingly cupped her womanhood, the graceful curve of legs. “You're beautiful.”

Before she could answer, his mouth was on hers again, hotter, more demanding. Her fingers trembled as much as her body did as she tried to unbutton his shirt. The room titled crazily and she grabbed him around the neck. She realized he had picked her up.

Minutes later she felt the softness of his bed beneath her, the hardness of Gordon above her. Vaguely she registered the skylight over the bed. Her bra slipped off. His hot mouth greedily sucked her nipple. She moaned, then arched as his hand slipped inside her panties and found the tiny nub, gently flicking.

The twin pleasures had her whimpering, her hands fisted on the bed linen. “G-Gordon.”

“I'm going to make a feast of you.”

His tongue laved one breast, then the other, then started a downward path and didn't stop until he found the essence of her. She couldn't stop the scream that tore from her throat, nor the one that came later when he was inside her and they were both spinning out of control.

Gordon's breath wheezed in and out of his lungs so hard, he sounded as if he had emphysema, but since Camille was lying beside him in all her naked splendor, her breathing only slightly less labored, he grinned.

He hadn't died on her.

“Pleased with yourself, aren't you?”

Since she had a satisfied look on her face, he figured he could be truthful. “Very. I didn't conk out on you.”

Her eyes widened in distress. She scrambled to sit up. “You have heart problems?”

He took the trembling hand from his chest and kissed it. “Age problems?”

Her other hand slipped between his legs and felt his manhood leap in response, then begin to harden as she measured the length of him. “I think that worry can be eliminated.”

“Why don't we make sure?” Quickly grabbing another condom, he sheathed himself then pulled her down on top of him. He watched her eyes close in pleasure as he slipped inside her, then open as she rode him for all he was worth.

A tray between them, Camille in Gordon's short terrycloth robe, Gordon in his slacks, they finished off a bowl of goulash and breadsticks. “You could spend the night, you know.”

Camille's hand paused as she picked up her wine. “I don't spend the night with men.”

He hadn't thought it would be easy, and tried not to lose his temper at the thought of her being with another man. “Your things are already here.”

She sat her glass down with a sharp
clink
and came off the bed. His oversized robe slipped off her shoulder. “Don't spoil it, Gordon. I come and go as I please.”

The abrupt tone had him reassessing the situation. He rose from the bed and stood in front of her. “Who made you so scared of commitment?”

Her kiss-softened lips firmed. “Thanks for dinner. I can get a cab home.”

His hands on her arms stopped her as she started past him. He ignored the sharp glint in her eyes. “I want to know you better. I'm not probing to be nosy. I care. If I step on a sensitive area, tell me to back off.”

“Back off,” she said immediately.

“Not if we intend for this to work,” he said softly.

Her eyes went from anger to wary in an instant. “We're just enjoying each other.”

It was more than that to him, felt it was more to her as well, but
instinctively knew if he pushed he'd lose. He kissed her bare shoulder, pulled his robe back up, then picked up the tray. “I'll take care of this while you get dressed.”

She wanted to keep it simple. They could enjoy each other's bodies without invading each other's souls. Once you opened up, the other person could hurt you. She'd learned that painful lesson the hard way; she just couldn't reconcile that knowledge with the patient demand in Gordon's eyes. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the robe. “My husband and I married out of lust. We didn't know it at the time, but as our jobs demanded more of us, we quickly learned. He wanted me there for him and I couldn't be.

“When the lust faded there was nothing left. We each blamed the other for the marriage falling apart. Our parents were old friends and they kept pressuring us to work it out.” Impatiently she dragged one hand out of the pocket and shoved it through her hair. “When my apartment was broken into, we were still married. He wasn't there, but he walked after that.”

Gordon put the tray back on the bed, and went to her. “So you don't trust lust or love?”

“I don't want any emotional entanglements. If you can't agree to that, we should end it right now.”

His finger touched the base of her throat where her pulse beat erratically, felt her swallow. Easiest wasn't always the best. He went back and picked up the tray. “You free tomorrow night for a movie?”

“Yes,” she answered, confused.

“Good. We'll decide on the movie on the way to your place,” he said as he carried the tray from the room.

Camille tugged the tie on Gordon's robe loose and reached for her panties. It was going to be all right. He wasn't going to demand more of her than she could give. She wasn't going to go through those feelings of inadequacy and of being a failure again for anyone.

“Madison, there's a Ms. Jacobs to see you,” Traci said.

Madison's grip on the phone tightened. Automatically she glanced around the office. The baby furniture was pushed against the back wall. Manda was asleep in her crib, the blanket Madison's mother had crocheted
for her was tucked around her little shoulders. “Please have her come in.” Hanging up the phone, she stepped around her desk.

Camille entered with a smile. She wore a long lavender one-button jacket over a crisp white blouse and lavender midcalf skirt. She extended her slim hand. “I went by your house and your maid said you had returned to work. Thank you for seeing me.”

“Did I have a choice?” Madison said, slipping her hand into the pockets of her navy pinstriped trousers.

Camille tilted her head to one side. “I remember us as getting along better the last time we met.”

“That came out badly.” A lot of things had come out badly since The Incident. Madison waved the social worker to the chair in front of her desk. “I'm just a little nervous on how you'll react to my bringing Manda to the office.”

Instead of taking the seat, Camille walked over to the crib. “How is Manda adjusting?”

“Beautifully.” Hands on the crib, Madison stared down at the sleeping child. Her mouth softened. “This is the second week. I come in around ten each day after she's had her bath and playtime. She has her afternoon nap and feeding as usual. Occasionally in the evenings she wants to wait and eat with Zachary.”

“Mr. Holman is still assisting you?

Madison felt her heart give a quick and familiar thump in her chest. “Yes.”

Camille placed her hand on the rail of the crib. “That must be a big help since you've returned to work.”

“I can take care of Manda by myself.” Aware her tone had become defensive and that she was handling the interview all wrong, she strove for control. She'd known that kiss would lead to trouble. “How was your trip?”

Camille stiffened. “How did you know I had gone out of town?”

“Gordon mentioned it.”

Camille drew her straight shoulders back farther. “I hope you realize my dating Mr. Armstrong has no bearing on this case.”

Madison's eyes narrowed. The woman didn't trust anyone. “Why should it? You've already gotten a statement from Gordon.”

“Yes, I have,” Camille said, her body losing its rigidness. “If everything
continues to go well, I plan to close the case by the end of next month.”

“Why the delay?” Madison questioned, uneasiness creeping over her.

“To ensure that this placement is best for Manda,” Camille answered calmly.

Madison didn't believe her. “Or to try and find an excuse to take her from me?”

Camille's eyes widened at the accusation. “That is not my intention.”

“You could have fooled me.” Brisk, agitated steps carried Madison behind her desk. “If there is nothing else, Manda should wake up soon and I want to finish the paperwork on my desk before she does.”

“Would you like to hear what my report of today will say?” As if aware she wouldn't get an answer, Camille continued. “It will say that you have done an excellent job in caring for Manda. Your office is cluttered with things she needs to make her life, not yours, easier. It's obvious you've taken safety precautions to bring her here. Although you have a maid and could easily hire a nanny, you continue to care for her yourself.”

Madison sat down heavily in her chair. “I was ready to pull your hair out by the roots.”

“So I gathered,” Camille said, seemingly not the least bit disturbed by the threat. “I can tell you care for Manda. But it could have been different. Would you want me to be less diligent?”

“No.”

Satisfied, Camille nodded. “Then if I promise to stay out of your way, I'd like to wait until Manda is awake.”

Madison's eyes cooled. “You almost had me fooled. You never give up, do you?”

“The report wouldn't be complete otherwise.”

“And, of course, trying to catch people off-guard is just part of your job.” Madison retorted.

A shadow moved across Camille's face. “I want what's best for Manda.”