Married by June (12 page)

Presidents.
He’d list the presidents in reverse order and maybe by the time he was finished, he’d be ready for sleep.

“We’ve always been good in bed,” she said. “Right from our first date. But now I have this feeling that everything matters more. We’re not just having fun. It’s business, and I don’t like it.”

He tried to be subtle, but he had to move, had to press against her to relieve some of the pressure building inside him. “Yep. Sex has always been good. It is good.” He must not have been as subtle as he hoped, or maybe his voice wasn’t quite as
controlled as he’d thought. Her fingers stopped and he added, “When we want it. When we’re ready.”

She relaxed again, and this time she stroked his bicep, following his arm where it lay across her hip. Who the hell had been president before Reagan? He couldn’t remember.

“Carter,” he muttered. “Jimmy Carter.”

She sighed. Her fingers stopped stroking. Then she edged closer, pushing one thigh between his and pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Maybe it will be okay,” she murmured.

Warren Harding definitely hadn’t been the first president, but he was damned if he could remember who’d come before him.

Forget the presidents. He kissed Jorie’s forehead, right at the hairline. He’d make a catalog of her very nicest features, and maybe he’d be ready to fall asleep.

“You asked me to try to be more open, remember?”

He nodded.

“I want to do that, but it’s hard. What if I…what if you…”

“What?”

“What if you don’t like what you find? What if I let you in and you…and we break up again anyway?”

The hesitation in that last sentence broke his heart. He’d asked her to try without really understanding
what he was asking. For a woman like Jorie who valued being in control, who didn’t trust easily, who’d been hurt before, being open was a huge risk. He almost told her that they should just go to sleep—they’d both had a bad night and he was exhausted. She must be, too.

Then he thought about what might happen if they went to sleep tonight without making love. What if Jorie’s fears kept compounding until she never wanted to sleep with him. How could he show her that when it came to being desirable, she already had him under her spell?

“This nightgown doesn’t give you much cover, does it?”

She shook her head.

“I can see pretty much all of you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You remember the other day?” he asked. “When you had those sweats on with the holes in them.”

She nodded.

“I saw something down here I liked.” He slid down the bed until he could move his hand up her leg, from ankle to calf, to the muscle behind her knee, and then around to the softness of her inner thigh.

She clamped her legs shut.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No.”

“You tell me, Jorie. You owe it to me and you to stop me if you’re still scared or something else is wrong.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t say stop.

He slid his hand back inside and tried to rub her skin. “I love this part of you,” he murmured. “Let me kiss it.”

She squeezed her legs even tighter. “You can’t possibly want to kiss my thighs. I hate them.”

That wasn’t “stop” either.

“I love them.” She’d relaxed a bit and he slid his thumb up to stroke the roll of soft flesh at the top of her thigh, right under the edge of her panty. “Especially this soft skin here.”

“That’s the worst part of all!” she said. “I try to pretend it doesn’t exist. Leave that alone. Come up here.”

He kept stroking.

“Stop?” he asked.

“Don’t stop.”

With his fingertips he tenderly pressed the inside of her thigh. “You know why I love this part? Because it’s so soft.”

She lay back on the pillows and opened her legs wider. “The softness is the problem.”

“The softness is the beauty.” He kissed the spot and then sucked on it, relishing the way she moved against his lips. Pressing into him. Wanting more.
“It’s a very good soft. Very good.” He punctuated each word with a lingering, relishing kiss. “If this was my thigh, I’d want to touch it all the time.”

“They’d lock you up.”

“If everyone could see you, see you like this—” He raised his head and waited until she met his eyes. “They’d understand, Jorie. You’re gorgeous. Every single inch of you is beautiful. Every single hidden spot makes me want to devour you.”

She blushed.

“If you’ll lie there for a few minutes, I’d like the chance to show you how very little control I have when I’m near you.”

She sighed and raised a forearm over her eyes. She spread her legs even farther and he knew she’d given him permission to show her what he meant. He started to peel her underwear down, sliding and stroking as he went.

When her panties were off, he positioned himself between her thighs. He wanted to show Jorie how he felt about her and he intended to take a good long time.

When she climaxed, she gripped his shoulders so hard he had to bite his lip to hold still. He waited until she stopped shuddering and then kissed his way back up her body. She pulled the nightstand drawer open and handed him a condom. When he was ready, he pulled her on top of him and she
took him deep inside. She rocked back and forth, the silk of her nightgown brushing across his legs. Her breasts moved in the most delicious way and he captured them with his hands, kneading through the fabric. She pulled him up then and wrapped her legs around the back of his waist, driving him with her body. Happy to relinquish control, Cooper closed his eyes and let go.

H
E’D BEEN DRIFTING
in and out of a doze, but sometime around three Cooper slid out of bed and pulled out his notebook. On the page with the vows, he wrote, “I promise never to take sex with you for granted.” That wasn’t exactly what she’d been worried about, but it mattered. He added, “I promise to remember you’re vulnerable
and
strong.”

He put the book back in the pocket of his pants and then returned to bed. She shifted toward him and put her hand on his chest. He stroked her hair until she settled again.

The sun was starting to rise when he woke up the second time. He eased out from under her and went to the front door to look out at the sidewalk. There wasn’t any blood, which reassured him. He’d wanted to hurt the guy last night, but now that he was calmer, he was glad he hadn’t done too much damage.

He took out his notebook again and read the
promises he’d written so far. “I will always protect you as best I can,” he wrote. That was getting closer to a vow.

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
Cooper walked with Jorie to his parents’ house. Rachel had asked her to stop by and Cooper had more rounds of lectures and strategizing with his dad. He’d never had his dad’s full attention before and he was finding being on the front line with Nolan more difficult than he’d realized. Cooper was chafing at the myriad ways, large and small, his dad was trying to control his life. Bailey’s escape was making more and more sense to him.

Alice’s was on the way so they stopped for a bag of muffins and coffee. The Help Wanted sign was still in the window.

There was a line of people and when they saw Cooper they started to clap. One guy gave him a high five. “Good to see the government is tough on crime, right, Murphy?”

Eliot was working the register and Alice looked frazzled even though it was only eight o’clock. She must have noticed their confusion because she said,
“The story has been all over the news. Are you both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” Cooper said. He looked embarrassed and a slight flush joined the bruise on his cheeks.

“As soon as this crowd clears, I’m coming over to give you both a big hug, so get prepared,” she said.

When it was their turn at the counter, Alice, true to her word, gave Cooper and then Jorie big bear hugs. She filled a bag with assorted muffins and made their coffee.

“You know I’d be more than happy to help you out today, Alice,” Jorie said. “I have a meeting at nine, but I’ll be free the rest of the morning and all afternoon.”

“Oh my goodness,” her friend said. “That’s amazing. Come anytime.”

They moved to the register where Eliot rang up their two coffees and a dozen muffins. “That’s three dollars and eighty-two cents,” he said.

“You sure you got everything?” Cooper asked.

“No,” Eliot sighed. “Probably not.” He voided the sale and started again. Alice rolled her eyes behind his back.

“Come as early as you like and stay as long as you like—if you know how to use a register, I’ll pay you a bonus.”

“I’m an experienced cashier, my friend,” Jorie said. “I can even change the receipt roll.”

“I’ll have a cake here with your name on it this afternoon!”

Back outside, Cooper took a chocolate-chip muffin out of the bag and started to eat it. “That was awkward.”

“You’re a hero, Coop. Get used to it.”

“That’s nice of you to help Alice out.”

“Well, I can use the money, too.”

“Still no contracts?”

She shook her head, hoping to discourage the conversation. She hadn’t done anything to pursue a contract and she wasn’t sure when, if ever, she was going to look again. For now, working with Alice seemed like a perfect way to stave off the poor house.

“I could lend you some money,” Cooper said quietly.

“Absolutely not,” she answered.

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because if I didn’t, I’d be the world’s biggest jerk.”

“So what does it make me if I refuse?”

He took her hand. “Jorie. You’re always Jorie.”

R
ACHEL WAS WAITING
for them by the front door. When Cooper came in, she touched his bruise,
making him wince, and then hugged him hard. “I hope Jorie yelled at you for taking stupid risks.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Rachel winked at her over his shoulder. “Good.”

“I’m going to borrow Jorie for a few minutes, if you don’t mind,” she said, and then led Jorie into her office, which was in a former sun porch off the back of the living room. The office was another example of Rachel’s special blend of romance and professional power. One wall was occupied by six large computer monitors and TV screens, but the desk was shiny white wood with silver trim. The bookcases were also painted white and the interior was lined with a floral paper. Instead of an ordinary ceiling fixture, a small chandelier, painted white and dangling ropes of crystals, was centered over the desk.

It was a room Jorie loved.

“Come right in,” Rachel said. “How are you? Still shaken up?”

“I feel fine. I brought muffins. Cooper said you like lemon.”

Rachel thanked her for the treat. “I already had breakfast, but I’ll keep this for lunch.”

Jorie wasn’t sure why she was there.

“Did you watch Bailey’s speech?”

“He did a good job,” Jorie said.

“Cooper did, too.”

Jorie nodded and wondered if Rachel had really asked her here for small talk.

Rachel perched on the edge of her desk and aimed a remote at the monitor wall. When she had turned on all six monitors, the combined chatter from the screens was loud, but not unbearable. She beckoned Jorie close.

“I don’t want anyone else to hear what we’re discussing.”

Jorie nodded again.

“I met your mom over jewelry, did you know that? She complimented my necklace?”

“I remember the story.”

“Well, after she found out I had a son who was single, she pumped me for information on Cooper. She was an expert at interrogation.”

“She was a bit relentless,” Jorie agreed.

“I admired her. I didn’t know her well, then, of course, but her life fascinated me.”

“She certainly kept things interesting,” Jorie said. “I think when my dad died so young she got scared. She spent the rest of her life trying to find the security she’d had with him.”

“But she took care of you. Somehow she always found a way to keep going,” Rachel said. “I think I gave Cooper your number half in the hopes we’d see your mom again, too.”

“She was very happy to have you as a friend in her last few months.”

“Yes, well, I’m happy the Wish Registry is getting sorted out.”

“Miriam is working wonders.”

This was the conversation Rachel didn’t want overheard?

When that thread petered out, Rachel bit her lip. Whatever it was she was trying to spit out was hard for her to do. Jorie wondered if she might just give up, since she didn’t seem to be getting anywhere with the discussion.

Cooper’s mom seemed to reach the same conclusion. She dusted her hands together.

“I have something for you.” Rachel opened a cabinet in the base of the bookcase and pulled out two shopping bags. Jorie inched closer, wondering what could be inside. Something for the Wish Registry, maybe?

No. The bags were full of baby things. Cuddly blankets. Tiny leather booties. Board books and pastel sweaters. She checked the outside of the bags and saw the logos of two exclusive children’s boutiques.

“Go ahead, take a look.”

Jorie reached into the first bag and pulled out an exquisite hand-knit sweater and a cunning little matching cap with pompoms stitched around the
rim. Under that she found a yellow and white check blanket and a stuffed bear with the softest fur she’d ever felt.

“They’re beautiful, Rachel,” Jorie said. “But I’m not…I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh, of course not. Not now.” She reached into the second bag and showed Jorie the stack of board books and the leather shoes. There was also a small wooden train with cars in the shape of alphabet letters spelling Murphy. “Bailey would have loved that. He was crazy about trains.”

When she said his name, there was a tiny hitch, just a small stumble in her breathing that showed how much she was thinking about her son and how worried she was.

Jorie thought she understood why Rachel wanted her to have this baby stuff right now.

“So, if I had a friend or knew someone who was pregnant, it would be okay if I offered her these things first? She could use them for her baby while I wait to get pregnant with mine.”

“What a brilliant idea,” Rachel said with a beaming smile. “If you know someone, please feel free to share.”

Jorie wondered if Deb would accept these gifts from Rachel. She hoped so. She didn’t know Bailey’s girlfriend, of course, but she couldn’t imagine
that she wouldn’t be at least a little touched by the gesture.

Rachel shook out the yellow-and-white blanket and then refolded it, tucking the tag inside and smoothing the corners until they squared up. Watching her, Jorie understood for the first time that the baby Deb was carrying was a little Murphy— Rachel’s grandchild.

She didn’t have any idea what to say. All she knew was that this strong and proud woman was in pain.

“Are you going to talk to him sometime?” Jorie asked quietly.

“I can’t. Not yet. Every time I see him, I want to scream at him. Not because he wanted to give up. I know how hard it can be to live a political life. It’s no picnic for anyone involved, and I’d seen how much he and Jill had grown apart. But the
way
he did it—cutting us all off and putting the seat in jeopardy. Too many people have sacrificed along the way to keep that seat for the Murphys. And the cheating. That was wrong.”

She was obviously not ready yet to forgive and forget. But she’d offered the gifts. She was shopping for the baby, preparing a place in her heart for him or her. She’d come around for Bailey eventually. Jorie was sure of it.

“The baby gifts will be welcome,” she said.
“More than welcome, because they were chosen with love.”

“Thank you, Jorie.”

They repacked the bags in silence, folding the tissue carefully. When they were finished, Rachel turned the monitors back down. Confidence time was over, apparently.

“Cooper took his father to task yesterday morning, you know, over the way he treated you.”

“I’m doing fine,” Jorie said.

“It surprised Nolan and me. Cooper has never been the son to initiate confrontations.”

“I’m sorry,” Jorie said.

“I’m not,” Rachel countered. “It’s past time he stood up for something of his own.”

They walked toward the front of the house together. Jorie put the shopping bags down in the hall outside the library and then went in to say goodbye to Cooper. He glanced up from the stack of papers he was sorting and kissed her.

“Call me,” she whispered. “When you get a chance.”

As she headed home, holding the bags of gifts, she wondered about Rachel. She seemed so different than Chelsea on the surface. She’d always been a part of her husband’s world and was his closest confidante. She was intelligent and formidable. But this morning Jorie had seen the vulnerability.
When it came to her family, she was very much like Chelsea.

Her phone rang just as she got to her house.

“Cooper?”

“Yes.”

“We need to meet your brother’s girlfriend. I have something for her from your mom.”

“My mom?”

“Yep. She’s not ready to make up with Bailey, but I think she’s already in love with the baby. Find out when we can go, okay?”

“You got it,” Cooper said.

H
E DIDN’T SEE HER
for a few days. He got sucked into meetings and more meetings. But just because they weren’t together, didn’t meant she wasn’t in his thoughts. The things she’d said about sleeping with him and how it felt were bothering him. He wasn’t going to deny that he’d had a fantastic time, but he felt a bit guilty that they’d made love when she’d said she was feeling off.

Then, when he was in his brother’s office, he’d found the perfect present for her. He was going to drop it off, no strings attached, and enjoy himself watching her open his gift.

Of course, nothing worked out the way he hoped and he was late getting to her place. He wasn’t sure if she was expecting him, so he knocked quietly in
case she was already in bed. He was surprised to see the light in the foyer flick on immediately. She looked out the window and then unlocked the door for him.

“I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“I was up,” she said, but she didn’t elaborate on what she’d been doing. Not watching TV, because he’d have seen the lights. He took his shoes off and left them on the mat next to the front door. She walked back into the living room, the light from the lamp picking out gold highlights in her hair. Her tank top rode up at the back and he could see the strip of pale skin just above the waistband of her shorts.

Man. He was going to have to recite the presidents again if he wasn’t careful.

He trailed behind her, watching the sway of her hips and wishing he knew how to draw. He’d ask her to be his model and spend all day every day sketching the lines of her body. The desk lamp was on in the small alcove off the living room that she used as an office. She must have been working on something in there because he watched her close a notebook and tuck it into the drawer of the desk.

He leaned one shoulder against the frame of the glass French doors. “I got you a present.”

She pressed her lips together.

“You have to stop that,” she said. “I told you I don’t like presents.”

“No,” he said. “You told me presents make you nervous because people sometimes give them with ulterior motives. I don’t have any motives except I like to give presents.”

“Well, you wouldn’t admit to an ulterior motive if you had one, would you?”

“I want to watch you open this gift. Period.”

He took the package from under his arm and held it out to her. He didn’t have wrapping paper, but he’d improvised with a map of Allegheny County. It was a little wrinkled, but colorful enough. Who the hell didn’t like presents?

“Come on, Jorie, take the gift.”

It was a book. She could tell that as soon as she held the package. Not that she cared what it was because she was mad at him for forcing her to take it. He always had an ulterior motive and this time he was making a romantic gesture that would fool her into thinking they had a real relationship.

She used her thumbnail to slit the piece of tape and the paper fell away from the book.

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh. Oh.

It was a copy of her favorite edition of
Paul Revere’s Ride.

She let the paper fall to the floor as she traced
the title with her finger. The cover illustration was beautiful. Haunting and stirring. A glimpse of the horse’s mane and one wild eye. Paul Revere was drawn as a square-shouldered, dark-haired man, bent over the horse’s neck with one hand raised, his mouth open as he cried the alarm.

She knew Longfellow’s poem wasn’t historically accurate, but she’d fallen in love with the myth and this particular edition of the book when she was six, years before she’d studied history seriously and learned the real facts as they were accepted by scholars. When it came to Paul Revere, there were things she knew with her brain and things she felt with her soul.