Nobody's Angel (17 page)

“You know what I am going to say, don’t you, girl?”

“I know, Mads.” Lucy was exhausted, but Mads worked nights and Lucy knew she was up and about and it was still two hours earlier in Seattle. Unrequited desire, Lucy discovered, was about as pleasant as unrequited love.

“I had the feeling it was only a matter of time.” Again, there didn’t seem to be much point in denying it, so Lucy sighed and hung on for more. “It really doesn’t make any difference what I say, Lucy, because you know this and it still isn’t helping. So, all I can tell you is, get this out of your system, scratch your itch . . . whatever and then come home and we will put the pieces back together again.”

“Maybe he won’t be back.” Lucy couldn’t even pretend to be wishful about that.

Mads chuckled. “Honey, not even you believe that. You are as much tangled into his system as he is in yours. I can quote the Big Book to you until the cows come home. I can tell you the way it is and how it should be, but it isn’t going to make one bit of difference. You guys are on a collision course to finish this thing.”

“And then what?”

“I haven’t a clue.” Mads laughed again. “Damn, but I miss you, Lucy Locket.”

“I miss you, too, Maddy Mads.”

“Question? Totally off the record and asking as your girlfriend and not your sponsor.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What if the magic thing happens and all of a sudden Richard wants you back and it’s all green for go and love in la-la land again. What happens then, Lucy?”

Lucy didn’t even have to think about that response. “Then I stay here and make it happen.”

“You know I hate to be cold?”

“You’ll survive.”

“I despise snow.”

“It’s pretty.”

“And I have never been to Chicago.”

“Then it’s about time you did.”

“Okay, babe, from your lips to God’s ear.”

 

 

Lucy hung up the phone. It rang again almost immediately.

“Lucy?” And her heart kind of sank. His tone radiated disapproval and disappointment. For a dizzy moment, she almost pretended to be her voice mail.

“Hey, Elliot,” she said, keeping her tone deliberately chipper. “How are you?”

“Not so good, in fact,” he responded with a touch of severity. Elliot was in no mood to be deterred or distracted. “I have been waiting for you to call. I was worried about you.”

“I’ve had a lot to do here, Elliot. It’s been a rather difficult time.”

“I understand.” The firm rebuke whipped out the phone. “But you could have found five minutes to let me know you were still breathing. A text message would have been all right, a call even better.”

And he had her there. “I appreciate that, Elliot, but I didn’t promise to call you and there has been rather a lot happening since I left.”

“But you’ve been gone for so long, I’ve had to resort to phoning your sponsor to know you’re alive.”

Lucy took a breath. This was the thing with Elliot and it was entirely her fault. He was so used to rescuing her and it was so comfortable to let him. She had got it this way, because she set it up this way. Thanks for that one, Dr. Phil.

The key was to keep it logical and calm. It didn’t do any good to lose your temper with Elliot. He was at his strongest when she lost it. “We talked about this before I left. I am here to settle things and get some answers.”

“And that means you can’t call?”

“It means”—Lucy sucked in her breath—“that I am concentrating on what I am doing here.”

A loaded silence stretched out over the telephone and Lucy thought for a second they might have been cut off. It didn’t occur to her Elliot had hung up. He would never, ever do anything so crass and childish. Elliot was always and under all circumstances a civilized man. And she should know. She had certainly pushed him over the years.

“I understand.”

Damn. Shit and damn. Now Elliot’s feelings were hurt. Lucy tried to backtrack. “I don’t think you do, Elliot. I can’t move on with the rest of my life until I get this stuff settled.”

“Oh, get off it,” Elliot snapped with uncharacteristic anger. “We both know why you are really there.”

“Don’t do this, Elliot.” Lucy closed her eyes as if she could shut out the world.

“I don’t think I have any choice left to me.” He was seriously pissed now. Elliot’s British accent always got more clipped when he was upset. “I have been waiting on tenterhooks to hear if some girlish peccadillo with a teenage stud is going to stop you from committing to us or not.”

“Don’t patronize me. This has never been about Richard. Well, not only about Richard. I came here for my mother.” Lucy refused to let him get under her skin. Elliot was hurting and she knew it. They’d first met when she was only twenty-five. For the past five years they’d drifted in and out of a relationship that felt more like a mentor/student thing than a romance.

Now she was sober and Elliot wanted to know if they could, finally, move on to a better place. They’d kept the relationship more or less platonic for the past year. And although Elliot had dated other women in that time, Lucy had always known he was waiting.

Always waiting for her to be ready. He’d been good to her. At times he’d been the only thing standing between her and the results of her own stupidity. That’s why she’d been putting off calling him and saying what she knew had to be said. The truth was right there, staring her in the face. Last night and what had almost happened in Richard’s kitchen had put to bed any lingering doubts. She was never going to be ready. Not for Elliot, anyway.

“You’re right,” he responded. Always so reasonable at times it made her want to scream. “That was poorly done of me.”

“Don’t apologize, Elliot,” Lucy whispered softly into the phone. “Just, don’t.”

There was another long silence and Lucy could hear him putting the pieces together. “So, Lucy, are you going to give me an answer?”

She owed him that much and so much more. It was Elliot who had given her her first glimpses of sobriety. Elliot who picked her up after Peter had left her in pieces. The same man she’d left Elliot for and not once had he reproached her. Until that last time, when he had issued an ultimatum, which ended up saving her life.

He really didn’t deserve her. He deserved so much more.

“I . . .” The words that would end his waiting wouldn’t come. Lucy cleared her throat and tried again. “Elliot, I really don’t know how to say this.”

How did you tell a man after all this, you didn’t love him? How did you tell someone the collection of painful memories between you was part of the past and not your future? Lucy felt like she wanted to be sick. She was such a shit to be doing this.

“I don’t think.” She tried again.

“Jesus, Lucy.” Elliot’s voice was hoarse with emotion over the phone. “Don’t be so bloody stupid.”

There was no way to tell him it wasn’t stupidity. It was instinct. It was the sense she was finally in a place where she recognized what she needed. And part of her was starting to see that, despite her sins, this was what she deserved. And what she deserved was not what he had to offer. How did you tell a man he wasn’t . . . Richard?

“Five sodding years,” Elliot rasped, and Lucy’s chest constricted. The burden of his patience made it impossible to keep her head up. She had known all this time what he wanted and what he waited for and she’d avoided dealing with it. “Five bloody, sodding years and this is all I get.”

“I am so sorry, Elliot.” It was so absurdly inadequate. “I wish—”

“Oh, please. Don’t you dare,” he snarled at her. “Don’t you treat me like some bloody consolation prize. I think we both know I am worth a whole lot more than that.”

“You are, Elliot, you really are. And I cannot tell you how much you mean to me.”

“Christ, Lucy, is this the best you’ve got? A whole mouthful of limp platitudes and bullshit.”

“I’ve hurt you and I have no idea how to make that better.”

“Really?” His accent could have cut glass. The consonants bounced off the phone like clean strikes off metal. “You could grow up, Lucy, and realize I am the best thing that ever happened to you. You could stop pining for some childhood dream and see real life isn’t like that. Real life is about real people making a commitment to something and making it work. Real life is about what we have, Lucy.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered miserably. There was no point in arguing with him. She had nothing to tell him, but the inkling that she could one day, somehow, have the dream come true. There was a grand passion out there for her, a huge slice of heaven that was hers for the taking.

It was unlikely it would be Richard. But surely, somewhere, there was someone like him. Somewhere, there was another love. Sometime in the future there would be a chance to prove she could do it right this time. But that opportunity was not with Elliot and it was time to cut them both loose.

“This thing with us, Elliot,” she said, her voice trembling so much she had to clear her throat. “What we have, Elliot, is not what I want.”

Another loaded silence and Lucy took a deep breath and then another. It was done and along with the guilt was a terrible sensation of relief. It was over.

“Out of curiosity, Lucy,” he spat. “If I hadn’t called you today, were you planning on taking another five years to tell me that, after everything, I still wasn’t good enough for you?”

Lucy said nothing. Elliot was mouthing off in his anger and hurt and he had, at least, earned the right to do as much.

“Let me be clear about this,” he carried on. “I don’t want to be your friend, Lucy. I have enough friends and I don’t need another one.”

“I understand.” She dearly hoped he might change his mind about that one day, but for the moment, and probably for a goodly while, it was better she kept a distance.

“And”—Elliot barely heard her—“this is the last time. We have been down this road three times before. This is it, Lucy. After this, I am not going to play the blasted fool for you anymore. You leave me this time and you stay gone. Are you clear about that?”

“I am clear, Elliot.” A lifetime without Elliot seemed a long, long time, but she wasn’t about to start trying to bargain with a wounded beast. Perhaps there would be time in the future for them to sit down and talk this through.

“No more desperate phone calls.”

“I get that.”

“No more rescues when you get yourself into shit so deep, you can’t breathe anymore.”

“I get it, Elliot.”

There was silence again. Lucy could hear the rasp of his breathing on the other end of the line.

“Elliot?”

“Fuck you, Lucy. Just . . . fuck you.”

The phone went dead in her ear. Lucy watched with a sort of detachment as she lowered her hands to her lap. They were shaking so badly she barely managed to put the phone safely beside her on the bed. It was done. For better or for worse, she and Elliot were done.

It hit her in a crash of panic that almost had her reaching for redial. She could still beg Elliot to be patient with her. She could ask him to wait for her. He was her safety net. Without Elliot in her life these five years past, Lucy was sure she would have ended up “working the track” with the crack whores.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. The pain was staggering. He had been a decent man and a wonderful friend. He’d picked her up and dusted her off time and time again. Her phone was already in her hand. Ready to make the call and bring Elliot to the rescue.

She put the phone down again. He deserved more than to be someone’s fallback position. Elliot deserved to be loved wholly, passionately, and freely. He didn’t need to be Lucy Flint’s charity case. Five years crashed over her like a wave. Her gratitude was genuine and sincere, but it wasn’t love, not the sort of love he wanted.

This had to be a new low. It was two in the morning, and she was listening to Adele crooning about lost love, and shoveling snow as if her life depended on it. Right now, it felt as if it did. Lucy wanted to crawl into her bed and cry, but she couldn’t. Her tears were a dead weight, lodged behind her breastbone.

Lucy pushed the shovel into the fresh coat of about two inches on the walkway. If anyone saw her, they might think she’d lost her mind. Down the street a snow-clearing service backed a small plow out of a driveway. If Lynne heard anything, it would blend into the other sounds of the night. Lucy dearly hoped she was right. She couldn’t face her mother right now.

A slight shift in the light was all the warning she got before a warm hand closed over hers. Lucy dropped her iPod and he reached out quickly and caught it. Adele sadistically launched into a heartrending chorus.
Tell me about it
. Lucy sniffled.

Richard’s mouth moved, but all Lucy heard was Adele wailing away enthusiastically. His eyes were bluer than a clear sky and Lucy sank, came up for air, and then sunk all the way down to the bottom.

His mouth moved. He frowned, shook his head, and plucked the earphones from her ears. “These things will make you deaf.”

“Is that your considered medical opinion?” She was proud she could still come out with the wisecracks. Given that she truly wanted to disgust Gloria Steinem and the girls and fling herself against his manly chest and have him sweep her away to the happily-ever-after place.

“What are you doing?” Prince Charming asked with a frown.

“You have to ask?” Lucy looked pointedly at her shovel.

“Lucy.” His mouth tightened. “It’s the middle of the night and you’re shoveling snow?”

“Did I wake you?”

“Not with the shoveling.” Richard pushed a hand through his hair, making it stand on end around his head. “You look like you need a friend,” he said softly.

“Is that what you are?” Lucy heard her voice wobble dangerously and cleared her throat.

“Or something,” he muttered, and took her arm. “Come on.” He took the shovel from her hand and propped it against the side of the house. “Let’s be sleepless together.”

“Not a good idea.” Lucy dug in her heels, but he tightened the grip on her arm and tugged her a few steps forward.

“I don’t care,” he said, and hauled her a few more steps. “I don’t give a shit right now.”

And just like that, Lucy realized she didn’t give a shit, either.

He took her silence as agreement and kept her hand in his as he walked them through the silent garden to his house.

“Coffee?” he asked as he hung up his coat and reached over for hers to hang it beside his.

“No,” Lucy answered, pulling a face. “I would like to sleep at some point.”

The dim light of the entrance hall danced across the strong lines of his face. He cupped her chin and turned her face. “You’ve been crying.”

“A bit,” Lucy murmured.

His hand on her face was warm and gentle, but it sent a shaft of longing arcing through her body. She shifted away and dropped her head. Needing to move, she padded restlessly into the house.

“What is it?” He caught up with her on silent feet. “Is it last night?”

“Not really.” She didn’t have it in her to outright lie. “Something happened, earlier, and I . . .” She trailed off and followed him into the kitchen. She almost laughed. This kitchen had seen a lot of action since she’d been back in town.

“Tell me,” Richard urged her softly.

“I hurt someone.” She pulled out a seat and sat.

He went very still above her. “A man?”

Lucy nodded and looked down at the floor. His bare feet stuck out the bottom of his pants. He must have just pulled on his boots when he spotted her in her crazy wee-hour mania.

“A boyfriend?”

“Not really.” Something in his tone made her look up. His gaze was trained intently on her face. The muscles of his jaw bunched.

“You sure you want to hear this?” Of all the things she and Richard could discuss, another man must be close to the top of the awkward list.

“No.” His eyes bored into hers, as if he were trying to see past her face and into the center of her. “Tell me anyway.”

“His name is Elliot and he’s a really good man.” The pain in her chest unraveled slightly and she dared a bit more. “He’s been amazing to me. He picked me up when I was at my lowest point and helped me get sober. He’s one of the good guys.”

“And?”

“He loves me and wants more from me. I don’t feel the same.”

Richard flinched, the slightest crease around the corner of his eyes.

“It isn’t the same,” she addressed the thoughts she could almost hear whirling around his brain. “Elliot is not you and I was always honest with him.”

“Really?” His skepticism rubbed salt on an open wound.

“I never loved Elliot.” Lucy hissed in a breath. “I never pretended to love him either. He . . .” She was making a mess of this. “Why don’t I tell you the whole story and stop you from leaping to conclusions?”

She thought he might refuse and then his face relaxed slightly and he dragged out the chair beside her. “Why not?”

It was not exactly enthusiastic, but Richard was still listening.

“I met Elliot when I first went to Seattle,” she said. “He was the perfect catch for me at that time. He had money, he was good looking and just that bit older to want to take care of me. I used him.” She hated even admitting it. “Until I found something I liked more. I was drinking, heavily, and Elliot was a bit too grown up for me. Then I ran out of money, got scared, and went straight back to Elliot.”

Lucy managed a dry laugh. “And he took me back. He asked me to stop drinking and I did. I didn’t stay for long,” she said, shrugging. “I found someone more exciting, more like me, and I left him again.”

“The prick with the fists?”

“That’s the one.” Lucy grimaced. “Then I got sober and Elliot has been waiting for me to get serious about him. He’s been hanging around for me, all this time, and I had to let him go.”

“Wow.” Richard blew out a soft breath. He spun away from her and stood staring out the window into the dark. “There’s a whole team of us. The men who never get over Lucy.”

It stung like a slap. Lucy reeled back from the table and clambered to her feet. “That was a shitty thing to say.”

“Yeah, I know.” He dropped his head onto his chest. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

“I’m going home.”

“Don’t.” His voice stopped her before she reached the kitchen door. “I’m mad at myself.”

“That’s just an excuse, Richard.”

“You’re right,” he said, nodding. “And I’m sorry.”

He looked at her across the length of the kitchen. The expression on his face softened. “I want you to stay.”

Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. “I don’t want to be the enemy anymore.”

“You’re not.” His voice grew hoarse, his blue eyes raw in their intensity. “Not anymore. And this guy, Elliot, he made his own choices. You’re not responsible for him or even me, for that matter. You’re our addiction, our drug of choice. So sexy and so beautiful and fragile and we’re strapping on the armor before we’ve even formed the conscious thought. You’re man candy, Lucy Flint.”

“Man candy.” Man, she wished that sounded like a good thing. Lucy gave a strangled laugh. “That’s a new one.”

“Not for me.”

Everything in Lucy stilled, like the moment before the oncoming car broadsides you.

“Richard?” Lucy’s breath caught in her throat and she struggled to swallow past the constriction.

“I’m not doing well at walking away from this insane thing between us.” His gaze bored fierce and needy into her. “You’re in my blood, under my skin, and I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

Neither of them moved. He waited for something and she had no idea what it was. The words were not there and Lucy shook her head.

“What is happening here?” Some rapidly fading piece of her tried to cling to wisdom.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“You’re right, but I don’t care.”

His eyes heated as he moved closer.

Something caught fire inside her.
Oh God, this is actually happening? Richard wants me.
It got harder to breathe.

“I give up.” He shifted closer, slowly, giving her every opportunity to back away.

And go where?
When this was the place she wanted to be more than any other.

He was so close she could distinguish the tiny darker flecks of indigo in his eyes, feel the heat emanating off his body.

“Your call, Lucy.” Dark, potent need laced his tone.

It tugged at Lucy.
Oh, God,
she wanted this. It pounded through her with each clamorous throb of her body.

He loomed over her, silent and waiting.

Unleashed tension crackled in the air between them.

Lucy’s body knew what it needed, even if her mind was still trying to shout it down. “Is this a good idea?”

“Would it matter?” He called her bluff, lowering his mouth until the hot wash of his breath caressed her cheek. “I can’t think of anything else. Since the moment I saw you standing in the snow, this is all I’ve been thinking about. I need to get inside you, Lucy, and I’m no good to anyone or anything until I do.”

It was a slow tango through the kitchen, marched to the sound of her pounding heart.

He advanced and she retreated, their eyes locked.

Lucy stopped thinking and let her body feel. And the dance continued, advance and retreat, pulse pounding and blood heating. He stepped forward and she went back, challenging him with her eyes, daring him to come and get her.

Lucy stumbled into the entrance hall. And still he came toward her.

Her back hit the wall and she stopped.

He kept coming.

Lucy grabbed the back of his head and tugged his mouth onto hers.
Perfect.
Only with Richard was it ever like this.

Heat burgeoned into wild fire between them.

The taste of him made her crazy as she pushed her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned low and rough, meeting each thrust of her tongue, feasting on her with lips and teeth, as if he couldn’t get enough.

The wall was solid and unyielding behind her back as Richard shoved against her, his cock already hard and swollen against the front of her jeans. His obvious desire lit Lucy up from within and she wrapped her thigh around his hip, her body demanding what it needed from him.

He grabbed her ass, fastening around each globe and directing her slide against him.

Lucy whimpered and tugged at his hair as she ground against his erection. She couldn’t get close enough, fast enough. Years, she’d waited years to feel like this again.

“Upstairs,” he panted against her mouth. “Now.”

His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, his hands already yanking her by the belt loops toward the stairs. “Bedroom,” he growled, as he fused their mouths together again. He pulled away from her roughly. His breath labored and hectic spots of color stained his cheekbones as he grabbed her hand.

They took the stairs two at a time and Lucy didn’t falter. She didn’t notice the room or the bed until she was lying flat on it, with Richard pressing her deeper into the covers. The incredible heat of his body surrounded her and Lucy melted into him. She wrapped her thighs and arms around him, pulling him closer to her.

She wanted to hold him here forever.

He broke the kiss long enough to tug off her shirt and sweatshirt and send them sailing across the room.

Lucy wriggled up and grabbed his shirt. It disappeared in a tear of fabric and the ping of buttons across the floor. She reached out greedily for the feast of beautiful skin and muscle spread before her.
Hers.

His breath hissed as she stroked his chest and slid her hands down over the ridges of his stomach.

“You’re beautiful,” she marveled, her hands feverishly tracing up over the swell of his laterals and over his back. Down the tightly packed muscle on either side of his spine she drew her palms, committing the feel of him to memory.

His breathing grew ragged as she stroked over his ass and raked her fingernails up his thighs. The waistband of his pants stopped her from exploring further. She slid her hand around to cup his erection straining at her through the fabric.

His cock jerked in her hand.

With her other hand she pulled his head back to hers.

He groaned and grabbed for her, eating into her mouth with his own as she worked the length and hardness of him in her hand.

Her fingers found the clasp and zipper and she eased him out. He was hot and smooth against her. He groaned into her mouth as she touched his bare skin. Gripping him firmly, she stroked down and up again.

He hissed and grabbed her hand and held it still on his flesh. “Shit, Lucy, you have to stop that.”

No way.
She wanted this and a whole lot more.

She tugged his pants and he reared back, hauling them down his legs and kicking them off.

Lucy sat up and pushed him over onto his back. He lay still for her as she studied him. His amazing body spread before her, just for her. It was a memory she wanted to last forever. As a younger man, he’d been beautiful and she’d forgotten nothing. As a man in his prime, he took her breath away.

“Come here.” He sat up and slid one hand behind her head. His grip was light as his mouth found hers. His kiss had lost none of its intensity, but it was a leisurely exploration now, gentler as if he wanted to calm things down.

Lucy’s pulse hammered the need for him through her blood. She wanted to resist this new pace, but the taste of him acted like a drug as he made love to her mouth, slow and easy.