Sasha’s Dad (18 page)

“No, no. This is lovely, thank you.” She ran her finger around the bottom of the crystal stem. “It’s not supposed to matter anymore, is it? What wine you drink with what? As long as you like it.”

“Hmm.” Claire reveled in the solid lines of his face, made deeper and sexier by candlelight. How had the boy she’d grown up with turned into such a compellingly attractive man?

“What do you suppose Sasha’s doing now?” The question left her mouth without any thought. Thinking about Sasha had become a big part of her day.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I hope she’s having a good evening.” Claire met his eyes and a laugh escaped her. “Okay. I do feel a bit guilty enjoying all of this without her.”

“Why would you feel guilty? Sasha’s twelve. Sure, she likes to come out with us and eat good food, but she’d be bored sitting here tonight.”

And horrified that Dutch and Claire were throwing off sexual sparks like a transformer hit by lightning.

“She’s on the school band trip, so I know she’s safe and having a great time.” Claire sipped her wine. “I wouldn’t feel as comfortable if she was alone with Naomi.”

“Naomi? Why on earth would you ever think I’d allow her to spend time alone with Naomi?” He’d told Claire after he’d spoken to Naomi’s parents that, while he’d been discouraged by their blasé approach with their daughter, they’d assured him she was doing fine.

“Sasha’s watching some of her childhood friends take different directions,” Claire said carefully. “It’s not easy. But she’s sticking to her guns and hanging out with the well-balanced kids. You should be very proud, Dutch. Sasha has a good head on her shoulders.”

“Yes, she does, and I have to thank you for helping her through these recent adolescent growing pains. She’s grown so much in just a couple of months.”

Claire leaned forward. She hated seeing him upset in any way over Sasha. He was such a good father.

“Dutch, don’t worry about Naomi or any of Sasha’s less-than-desirable classmates. She has a heart of gold, true, but she doesn’t go looking for trouble.”

“Hmm.” He stared at his wine and Claire was entranced as the flicker of candlelight sparked blue stars in his eyes.

“Claire?”

“Yes?”

He reached across the table and held her hand.

“Let’s not bring Sasha up again, okay? Tonight’s for us.”

Desire flamed inside her, and she smiled at him while wondering how she’d manage to eat her dinner when it was pretty clear what Dutch had planned for dessert.

Claire loved dessert.

They didn’t mention Sasha again. But they couldn’t avoid Natalie.

Claire still felt guarded whenever Dutch talked to her about Natalie.

Tonight, though, his defenses were down. “I was so happy,” he said. “
We
were so happy. When Sasha was born we often spoke of how blessed we were.” She found his naked sincerity very moving.

“We were still so young, Claire. We’d finished college, got married and I still had vet school ahead of front of me. Yet we had a great income from Natalie’s work as a state archivist, and it was all manageable.” He sighed. “Until she got sick and it all went to hell.”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “After the shock wore off, we were positive and hopeful. Her oncologist had several patients who’d beaten incredible odds and were in complete remission. But then the cancer came back a second and a third time.” He rubbed his knuckles on the linen tablecloth.

Claire stayed silent.

“Natalie wasn’t one of the lucky ones,” he murmured.

“She
was
lucky, Dutch, in that she had you and Sasha. I know she didn’t want to leave her life so early and would’ve done anything to stay here and raise her daughter. She never would’ve chosen to leave you. But your love and devotion gave her great comfort. And she knew you’d take care of Sasha.”

Dutch looked up and Claire was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t save her, Claire. I would’ve done anything. Anything.” He broke eye contact and turned his head to the side. When he looked back at her, his eyes were brooding, dark.

“It was pure hell at times, but I never questioned it. Whatever it took to take care of Natalie was what I’d do. But I felt so much guilt that she was the one who got sick and not me. Sasha needed her mother more than a father and…it was all so unfair.”

Claire didn’t speak and he went on.

“She was sick for a very long time, Claire. The last three years we had no intimacy. All her strength went to fighting the cancer. I missed her, I missed us. And I don’t want to sound selfish, but I missed our lovemaking.”

Claire shook her head mutely.

“In the end it came down to assuring her that it was okay to go. That we’d all be okay. She’d suffered enough.” Dutch looked at her. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell your wife that it’s okay to die because she’s suffered too much?”

“No, I don’t,” Claire whispered. The desire she’d felt had turned to waves of empathy for Dutch. Her guilt over her consuming attraction to Dutch hit bottom. How could she even
think
of being more than a friend to Dutch? How could she have thought of involving Sasha in what could never be a permanent relationship with her dad?

“No, of course you don’t understand. How could you? Why would you?” Dutch grasped her hand. “I don’t blame anyone anymore, Claire. There are no guarantees in this lifetime. Trust me, if there were, I would’ve cashed in on them long ago.”

“Dutch, you and Sasha have been through a lot. You both have so much life still ahead of you. I really believe that for the two of you the best is yet to come.”

She pulled her hand away and fiddled with her coffee spoon, embarrassed by the clichés she’d just spouted.

“Claire, I never meant to burden you with any of this.” Dutch’s voice was apologetic.

“You’re not burdening me with anything, Dutch.” She leaned back in her chair. “What you have done, though, is remind me why
this
—” she motioned between them “—is destined to remain a friendship. Period.”

His eyes narrowed and he, too, leaned back in his chair. “Oh?”

“Like I said, Sasha’s been through so much. She deserves, and
you
deserve, a fresh start. No baggage from anyone’s past.” She gave him a smile then. It was the hardest smile she’d produced in a long while, maybe ever.

He seemed surprised for a moment. Then clouds of disappointment rolled in over his expression and put the more familiar frown on his face. “So that’s it? End of story?”

Claire sighed. “Pretty much. It has to be this way, doesn’t it, Dutch?”

He shrugged, didn’t respond.

She splayed her fingers on the tabletop. “Of course, I’ll be here for Sasha, and I won’t let you stop her from seeing me. Not that you plan to. But I promised you when all of this started with Sasha that I’d put her first. Always. I meant it, Dutch.”

This wasn’t about
her.
Even if she and Dutch could contemplate a romantic relationship, their mutual history would prevent it from becoming permanent.

As she’d told him, Dutch deserved better. Sasha deserved better.

If Claire was going to live her newfound respect for the basics in life, she needed to take a fire hose to her lust for Dutch.

For Sasha’s sake, if nothing else.

There wasn’t any more conversation; they’d said all they needed to say. Her throat constricted and she knew she’d grieve the loss of the relationship they’d almost had, but she also knew they were doing what was best. Not just for Sasha, but for themselves.

It would only lead to constant disappointment if Dutch looked for Natalie every time he was with Claire….

She focused on the scene outside the passenger window as the trees sped by. When Dutch pulled into her driveway, she grabbed her purse and scarf. This was not going to be a prolonged goodbye.

He shifted the car into Park and Claire touched the door handle.

“Claire, wait.” His voice was soft. Defeated?

She paused.

“This isn’t the way we should end things. So…rough around the edges.”

“Don’t worry, Dutch, I won’t let it affect Sasha or my time with her. And you and I don’t have to talk except where Sasha or the llamas are concerned.”

“This isn’t about Sasha, Claire. Or the llamas.”

“They’re
all
it’s about, Dutch.” Tears threatened, and she didn’t want to go through another heart-shredding dialogue with him.

Big splats of rain hit the windshield and the lightning they’d driven through lit up the sky around them.

“I’m going in before I get soaked. Thanks for dinner, and I’ll see Sasha next week.” Claire opened the door and hurried out into the wind and rain. She slammed the door shut and before she could change her mind made a fast break for the house.

You fool. You can’t let her go. This is the time you two are supposed to have.

He pushed open his door and yelled as he stepped out. “Claire!”

He broke into a run as soon as his feet touched the dirt. In two, maybe three, more steps he’d reach her.

But she shortened the distance to nothing as she turned and ran toward him. They stared at each other. Wind-whipped leaves and rain pelted their faces, and the roar of thunder vibrated the air between them and the ground beneath their feet.

He was mesmerized by her. Standing still in the midst of the storm she looked like a goddess. She’d matured into a more beautiful woman than he could’ve imagined. Her wet hair blew about her face and her eyes shone with unshed tears. Tears his harsh words had caused.

“Claire, this
isn’t
about Sasha. It’s about you and me.” He shouted over the roar of the storm. The rain became an all-out downpour, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she understand him, that she see into his heart.

“I’ll never be Natalie, Dutch,” she shouted back, the effort of speech evident in the shivers that racked her shoulders and in the tautness of her neck. Her wet sweater was plastered against her pink dress and he saw the outline of her breasts, her nipples.

He reached for her, ran his hands up her neck and wove his fingers into her soaked hair. He lowered his mouth to her ear.

“It’s Claire I want.”

She stiffened with what he assumed was surprise. He didn’t wait for her to soften her posture or release her stubborn pride. He moved his hands to cup her face and tilted her chin up with his thumbs. Her eyes were closed, her lips ready.

“Look at me, Claire.”

She lifted her lids and he saw the battle that waged in the depths of her green eyes. The same battle that waged in his.

“Come with me, Claire. Let’s go forward.” He brought his lips to hers. First he licked them, then sucked at her bottom lip. Claire moaned and relaxed against him. She opened her mouth and the complete heat of his desire for her surged through him. There was no going back and he slid his hands down to her buttocks and brought her hips up against him.

He was home.

Her moan had nothing to do with fear of the storm around them, but with the intense storm of pleasure Dutch’s lovemaking rained down upon her.

She wanted Dutch.

He wanted her.

“Claire,” he groaned against her cheek as her hand found his erection. He pushed her back a fraction of an inch. “Let me make love to you.”

She answered him by grabbing his hand and turning toward the house. They got up the steps, with her in front. When she fumbled with the key he used the opportunity to press up against her back and cup her breasts from behind. The raw elements raged in the storm around them, but the intensity of their desire seemed to create an invisible barrier from the elements.

Claire unlocked the door and turned the knob. They fell into the kitchen, and Claire wriggled out from under Dutch.

“We have to get out of these wet clothes,” she whispered to his face. He was much closer than she’d realized in the dark.

“Damned right,” he growled. He peeled off first his shirt, then his jeans. Claire’s hands shook not with cold, but with want and need. The urgency of the moment, bordered on frightening, but fear was a small cost for the thrill of Dutch’s caresses.

She got her sweater off and her dress down to her waist. She shrugged out of it. Dutch already stood in front of her, waiting, naked.

“Claire, why are you keeping your underwear on?”

She smiled in the dark kitchen. “Follow me.”

They walked down the hall and into her bedroom.

Claire loved sex and loved being with a man who cared about her. But this was so much more. This was Dutch. They’d played in the sandbox and wading pool as kids and rolled in the sand at Ocean City as teenagers. He’d seen her naked more than once in their lifetimes.

Tonight he’d see her as the woman she’d become. And she was ready to accept him as that woman, to embrace the power of the chemistry that had always existed between them.

She’d raised her hands to remove her lingerie when Dutch reached across the gap and put his index finger in the side of her thong panties. He tugged and brought her closer to him as he caught the other side of the tiny garment and pulled down. As he did so he kissed her chin, her collarbone and then trailed his tongue down her abdomen.

His hands slid under her knees and he gently lifted her legs, one at a time, out of the thong. She gasped as he left kisses on her thighs and headed back north. But he didn’t bury his mouth between her legs. Instead, he stood back up and reached behind her. When he unhooked her bra and freed her breasts from their restraint, Claire felt a pang of need.

“Dutch, stop teasing me.” She placed her hands on either side of his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

“Oh, I’m not teasing you, baby.”

He put his fingers on her lips whenever she tried to say anything.

It was time to stop talking.

Logic disengaged itself as Dutch’s caresses grew firmer, bolder. When he slipped a hand between her legs and touched her with deft confidence, Claire’s knees buckled. She drew him down on top of her as she fell to the mattress.

She stroked him. He groaned.

“Claire, I’m not going to last very long if you do that.”

“Like this?” She continued running her hands over his erection and along his taut abdomen.

He replied with a bite to her neck. As soon as she moaned he kissed her nipple and sucked until she cried out. “Now, Dutch.”

She stretched toward the nightstand to get a condom from the box she’d bought a few weeks ago—when she’d realized she could find herself in this situation with Dutch.

“I have a condom in my jeans.”

“They’re in the kitchen. Use this one.”

She didn’t think she could hang on to her sanity much longer. The kitchen seemed miles away. She wanted Dutch inside her. Here. Now.

Dutch positioned himself above her, an elbow on either side. He leaned down and kissed her with delicious thoroughness.

“Claire?”

“Now, Dutch.”

He entered her, and the joining transcended their physical connection. Holding on to any sense of time or reality was impossible. Their hips moved with a need and longing that Claire had never imagined, let alone experienced.

It really was Dutch making love to her. Tears seeped out from under her closed eyes. As they both neared their climax, she made her last conscious decision of the evening.

Claire surrendered to her need for Dutch.