Baby, Come Back (11 page)

He held her to him. “You're shaking like a leaf.”

“I was so worried.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Anything could have happened.”

She felt his smile. “Sheri is sound asleep. I checked under every bed, in every closet and behind every door. You and Sheri are perfectly safe.”

Alice pressed her face into the warmth of his skin for one more moment, then drew regretfully away. “I guess that means I have to let you go.”

“Not necessarily.”

She searched his gaze, unsure what he meant. Unsure what she should do next. What she wanted to do next. She took a step back. “Thanks. Again.”

“I'll walk you in.”

“You don't...have to.”

“But I want to.”

She nodded and they walked inside. Her house looked exactly as she'd left it. Familiar and undisturbed. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“See.”

She turned to Hayes. He stood beside her, real and solid. Unwavering in his support. Just as he'd stood beside her all night. Her breath caught. And she did see. Clearly. Maybe for the first time in weeks.

And she knew what she wanted. She wanted him to stay.

Her feelings had nothing to do with Tim or the ordeal she had been through tonight. They had nothing to do with the fact that Hayes had rescued her, or that he'd been hurt.

She ached for Hayes on an almost primal level.

Alice forced herself to draw a breath. It was crazy. Insane. This had been the worst night of her life, yet she was loath to let it go. Because she didn't want to let Hayes go.

But how did she ask him to stay?

Hayes cleared his throat. “If you're sure you're okay, I guess I should take off.”

She caught his hand; hers trembled. Fear, different, sweeter and more potent than the fear earlier, pounded through her. “Hayes, I...there's—”

She couldn't find the words and dropped his hand. She spun away from him, curving her arms around herself. She called herself a coward and a fool.

“Alice?” He came up behind her and turned her to face him. Frowning, he searched her expression. “Are you sure you're all right?”

She wasn't all right. She doubted she would ever be all right again. She drew in a deep, ragged breath.
Ask him to stay. Ask him now.

She took the coward's way instead. “Why did you...come to see me tonight? Why did you come to Hope House?”

He hesitated a moment, and she had the sense that he had to search his memory for the reason. A lot had happened since then.

“To apologize,” he said finally, softly.

“Apologize? For what?”

“For discussing our adoption conversation with Jeff. I had no right. In my zeal to help him, I overstepped my bounds. But I didn't deliberately use you, Alice. I didn't mean to drive a wedge between you and Sheri.” He lifted a hand to her cheek and stroked lightly. “And when I kissed you, there was nothing on my mind but making love with you.”

Her heart tipped over. She took a deep breath. “Then don't go, Hayes. Stay. Make love with me.”

He dropped his hand, obviously surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “I want you to stay with me, in my bed. My arms.”

For a full ten seconds he said nothing. He didn't move, didn't seem to breathe. Those moments seemed like an eternity to her. Her chest tightened. What if he said...no? Dear Lord, what if he rejected her?

“I don't want to be a security blanket, Alice,” he murmured, his voice low, thick. “I don't want to stay only because you're afraid of being alone.”

She took a step toward him. “I want you to stay, Hayes. Not because I'm afraid of Tim or anything else. I want
you.
Tonight made me realize how much.”

His eyes darkened. He lowered them to her mouth. “You're absolutely sure?”

She held out her hand. “Yes.”

He stared at her hand for the space of a heartbeat, then grasped it. She curled her fingers around his. “Come.”

She led him to her bedroom. It was dark. And cool. She shut the door softly behind them, then flipped the lock. Moonlight flooded through the windows, bathing the bed in a soft white glow, yet its light made the room's shadows appear deeper, darker by comparison.

He turned her toward him. As a blind man would, he moved his fingers over her face, tracing the line of her jaw, the arch of an eyebrow, the contour of her mouth. He'd been with her many times, but the way he touched her now told her that this time was special. The most special.

She followed his lead, touching, memorizing, drinking in the shape and texture that was Hayes. She remembered...everything. She wanted more than memories. Tonight she wanted reality, wanted the present instead of the past. She sighed. It had been so long, too long. Yet being with him like this felt familiar. It felt right.

And in a strange way, it felt as if they'd never been apart.

She trailed her fingers across his lips; he caught one with his teeth and pulled it inside his mouth. Her pulse scrambled; her knees turned to jelly. She sagged against him.

Hayes caught her mouth. Her head fell back, and he twined his fingers in her hair, the strands silky against his fingers. The pulse pounded in his head, a primal, heady beat. A beat that drowned out everything but his desire for her, a beat that refused to be denied.

She parted her lips; their tongues met and mated. She tasted fresh and rich and sweet. The taste of her went straight to his head, and he grew drunk on it. He dived deeper, yearning for more, for everything.

It seemed impossible that he held her in his arms this way; it seemed a cruel but delicious illusion. He'd thought he would never touch her like this again, had long ago faced the idea of life without the perfection of loving Alice.

The breath shuddered past his lips, and he moved his mouth to the silky curve of her shoulder, the gentle indentation of her collarbone. He'd never forgotten what it was like making love with her. He remembered the scent of her skin and the sounds of her passion; he knew where she liked to be touched, and which caresses would send her tumbling over the edge between arousal and ecstasy.

He should have refused her. She needed more than a man like him could give. She always had.

Even as frustration threatened to choke him, he acknowledged that he didn't have the strength of character to deny himself her. Not then. Not now. He wanted her with a ferocity that left him gasping.

He could have lost her tonight.

Hayes tightened his arms. He couldn't imagine a world without Alice. Hell, right now he couldn't imagine a minute without her, let alone the rest of his life. Yet soon he would not only have to imagine his life without her, he would have to face it.

Desperation clutched at him, and he muttered her name against her throat. Urgently. “It's been so long.”

“Too long.” She eased her hands down his back, claiming, possessing. “I've missed you. I've missed...this.”

“You can't imagine how—” He trailed his mouth over her skin, nipping, tasting. “I've missed—” He nudged aside the collar of her blouse, sampling the sensitive, perfumed skin hidden there. “Being with you.”

She arched her back as he found the swell of a breast. She curled her fingers into his hair. “Don't make me imagine any longer.”

Hayes groaned, scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He lowered her to her feet, into a pool of moonlight. The light welcomed, chasing away both the shadows and the uncertainties.

He never took his eyes from hers. “Are you sure, Alice? A moment from now will be too late.”

“I've never been so certain of anything.”

He smiled. Softly, and with infinite male pleasure. He made a move to take her into his arms; she laid a trembling hand against his chest, stopping him. “I don't want anything to mar this moment.”

Slowly, deliberately, she stripped out of her violence-stained clothes. She tossed aside her blouse, her bra. Hayes followed her lead. He pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it aside. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. She slipped out of her slacks, he, his jeans.

As they undressed, Alice didn't take her eyes from his. Only when they had stripped away the last of their clothes did she allow herself the luxury of looking at him. Her breath caught. He was beautiful. Tall and lean and lightly muscled, with a scattering of dark hair.

And he wanted her. Just how much was extremely evident. She reached out and circled him with her fingers. He sucked in a swift, sharp breath; she smiled with pleasure.

The air was cool, Hayes's gaze hot. Her nipples pulled into tight, aching buds. Knowing what she wanted, he bent his head and drew one into his mouth, then the other. His lips feathered over her skin, raising chill bumps, arousing. She made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat and arched against him.

They came together, naked flesh to naked flesh. A ragged edge of his bandage scraped against her skin, a reminder of just how much she could have lost tonight. And just how precious life was.

Her pulse pounding in her head, she whispered his name over and over.
She wouldn't let him go. Not again. Not ever.

He drew her onto the bed. She roamed his hard body with first her hands, then her mouth, delighting in his male textures, in the way he shuddered and moaned under her attention.

His skin grew hot under her hands, then slick. He eased her onto her back, pressing her into the soft mattress. His weight over her felt right. Nothing else had felt so right in a long time. Maybe ever.

She sighed as he claimed her, then pulled his mouth to hers. They moved together, slowly at first, then faster as their passion built to a blinding crescendo. Damp, gasping for breath, they soared to the heavens and beyond.

A cloud moved over the moon, stealing its soft illumination. Cloaked in darkness, she held on to Hayes. Their breathing evened; their skin cooled. The moon slid out from behind the cloud, and Alice bit back a sound of dismay. In those minutes of darkness Hayes's mood had changed. She saw it in the slight tightening in his features, in the regrets that raced into his dark eyes.

Emotion choked her. Reality had come too soon. The truth had reasserted itself rudely. He regretted their making love; nothing had changed or been resolved between them. He had hurt her before. He would again.

She had opened the door.

“I'm too heavy,” he murmured. “I'll crush you.”

He started to roll off her. She curved her legs around his, wanting to hold on to their perfect lovemaking for a few more moments. “You're not. Hold me a bit longer.”

He did. He pushed the dampened tendrils of hair away from her face; he kissed her tenderly, he stroked her and murmured soft words of endearment. But she felt the way he distanced himself from her. Felt his second thoughts and second guessing.

She squeezed her eyes shut. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have forgotten the painful lessons of the past?

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her heart beginning to thud uncomfortably against the wall of her chest. She loved him. She'd never stopped. Dear Lord, how could she worry about making herself vulnerable to him, when he already owned her heart? Making love with him hadn't altered or heightened her feelings; she was as vulnerable to him as a woman could be to a man.

She drew in a deep, steadying breath. She had changed. She was no longer the naive girl who had worn her heart on her sleeve. She would not be crushed by a failed love affair. Nor would she stand anxiously by, dreading the moment when he would reject her.

“I don't expect anything from you, Hayes. No promises. No permanency. I'll make no emotional demands.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “Where did that come from?”

Your eyes. You were looking trapped.
She shook her head. “Considering our past, I thought we should get some things settled, right up front.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him. “Is there anything else you think we should settle?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head again. “No. I guess that's it for now.”

“Then it's my turn.”

She met his gaze, steeling herself for whatever unpleasant announcement he was about to make. “Go ahead.”

“You're incredible,” he said seriously. “Spectacular. I want to make love again.” He lowered his eyes to her mouth, then lifted them lazily back to hers. “And then again. You make me feel like a randy teenager, hot and bothered and one hundred percent horns.”

She laughed, worries and regrets falling away from her. “Horns?”

“Oh, yeah.” He eased the sheet downward, revealing her curves inch by inch. “Big ones.”

“And that's what you want to get straight? Right up front?”

With his mouth, he followed the path of the bedding. “Well, everything else is already straight and—” he took her hand and guided it to him “—right up front.”

“I see that.” She laughed and curved her hand around him. “And what do you suggest we do about it?”

He made a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat. “Come here, gorgeous. And I'll show you.”

L
ong after their hearts had slowed and their bodies had cooled for the second time, Hayes gazed at Alice. She lay beside him, eyes closed, her breathing deep and even, but he felt certain she wasn't asleep. Something about the way she held herself, about the tilt of her head, suggested instead that she was lost in her own thoughts.

Thoughts? Or regrets? He frowned. She'd surprised him with her announcement about not wanting or expecting anything from their relationship.

He moved his gaze over her. She'd changed so much in the years they'd been apart. The Alice he'd known had wanted a relationship almost desperately. She had longed for true love, total commitment and a storybook-perfect happily-ever-after.

His frown deepened. And yet she'd never married. Had never become a mother. Had he hurt her so badly? What an ego. She'd simply changed. Her priorities had shifted; she'd never found the right man.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Alice opened her eyes. The expression in them took his breath. In the space of that moment, she looked unbelievably sad. The moment passed and her expression cleared.

She lifted her lips in a lazy smile. “What's up, Doc?”

“At the moment, nothing.”

“Too bad.”

He trailed a feather he'd plucked from one of the pillows down the curve of her cheek. “I was thinking about you.”

She colored with pleasure. “Good choice.”

“Mmm.” He bent and brushed his mouth across hers. “Very good.”

She sighed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“A man can hope.” He propped himself on an elbow and for long moments gazed down at her. A delicate pink flooded her cheeks, and she arched an eyebrow in question.

“I was wondering...” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What?”

He sifted his fingers through her hair, shiny and dark against the white percale. “I was wondering why you haven't married. You wanted a family so badly I felt sure you would.” She stiffened, just a bit, and he silently swore. “I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry.”

“It's not a big deal. It never seemed right, that's all.”

He rubbed a few strands of her hair between his fingers. “I looked you up your senior year at LSU.” She met his eyes, startled. “Through the folks at the coffeehouse. They told me you were engaged. I was happy for you.”

“Were you?” She rolled away from him and sat up, pulling the sheet to her breasts. “Just think, if I had married Stephen you and I wouldn't be here right now.”

Stephen.
Hearing her former fiancé's name made the other man reel, and jealousy arced through Hayes. Had they been lovers? he wondered. Had they lain together like this, touching, whispering secrets and sharing their innermost thoughts?

The breath caught in his chest. Alice belonged to him. She always had. And even though she'd been engaged to that other man, rage at the thought of them together barreled through him.

Hayes regarded her profile, her expression, tight with hurt. Remorse replaced his jealousy of moments before. He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. “I didn't mean to offend you, Alice. I knew how much marriage and a family meant to you. I was happy you were going to get what you wanted. That's all I ever wanted, you know. For you to be happy.”

“Really?” She turned her face to his. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It's true.” He laced their fingers, unwilling to let her go. “I just knew I'd never be able to make you happy.”

“Then why did you look me up, Hayes? What prompted that?”

He shifted his gaze. What could he tell her? The truth? That second thoughts and regrets had almost eaten him alive? That in a weak moment he had given in to them? Hardly.

He tipped his face up to hers. “I wanted to know how you were doing. I wanted to assure myself”

“That I had survived your rejection?” She met his eyes, hers narrowed and angry. “Well, I did. And I was fine. Great, in fact.”

“That's what I found out.” He gazed at their joined hands a moment, then met her eyes once more. “What happened to him? This...Stephen?”

“I broke it off.” She freed her hand. “It wasn't right. I didn't love him as much as I should have. He deserved better than that. He was a really nice guy.”

She'd hurt the young man, Hayes realized. Badly. And it still bothered her. He understood her feelings only too well. He caught her hand once more, curving his fingers around hers. “I'm sorry.”

“You needn't feel anything at all. It had nothing to do with you, Hayes.”

Didn't it?
Something in her eyes told him otherwise. Something in her eyes told him it had everything to do with him. He cursed himself for having hurt her. And he cursed his inability to love.

She drew her hand from his and brought her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them. “What about you? Ever have the urge to remarry?”

“The closest I've come is with you.”

For a long moment she didn't reply. Then she hugged herself tighter. When she spoke, she didn't look at him. “But that was different. That was because of the baby.”

“Because of the baby,” he repeated, frowning. “Yes. I'll never marry again.”

She curled her fingers into the crisp white percale. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

She took a deep breath, spots of color tinting her cheeks. “Trying to tell me something, Hayes?”

“Just the truth. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to let you down.”

“You're so arrogant. You're so sure you're the one who'll do the hurting.” The color in her cheeks brightened. “I told you earlier that I don't expect anything from...this. But you felt you needed to warn me anyway. Well, you have, so why don't you leave?” She threw aside the sheet and started to climb off the bed. “In fact, we can just pretend this never happened.”

He caught her hand. “I don't want to go. And I don't want to pretend this never happened, even if that were possible.”

“No?” She inched her chin up, the coolly defiant gesture comical, given her flush of anger. “What do you want, Hayes?”

He gazed at her, his chest tight, his pulse fast. She was so beautiful, so special. She filled his life with warmth and light; she made him feel young and hopeful and completely without fear. She made him feel that maybe, just maybe, he could be the man she needed him to be.

Those things terrified him. Because he knew, in his heart and his gut, that he would never be that man. That he would never make her happy.

He couldn't bear to let her go.

He entwined their fingers and tugged her back to the mattress. “I want you. In my arms. My bed.” He brought their joined hands to his chest, to his thundering heart. “From there, I'm not sure. I know I want you in my life. You make me feel good. Tonight, almost losing you made me see that.”

Alice gazed at their joined hands, her own heart beating so heavily she had to struggle to draw an even breath. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know, not really, what their making love meant to him. If it had meant nothing, she could have dealt with that. If he knew, without a doubt, what he wanted—even if it wasn't her—she could deal with that.

But this...this gave her nothing to hold on to or give up on. How did she compartmentalize “You make me feel good” and “I want you in my life”? How could she temper her hopes and fantasies when he said things like that?

A part of her wanted to cry bitter tears of disappointment; another part wanted to sing with joy.

She lifted her eyes to his. “I think you'd better go. I need some time alone.”

He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he was going to try to convince her to let him stay. Then he brought their joined hands to his mouth.

“Can I call you tomorrow?”

Her pulse fluttered, and she nodded. “Yes.”

“If you have any...if you need anything, call me. Promise?”

She nodded again, touched by his concern, tears building behind her eyes. “I will.”

They dressed quickly, and she walked him to the door. For long moments he gazed at her, then, without speaking, let himself out. She watched him cross the porch and descend the stairs, not moving from the window until he'd been swallowed by the night.

For a long time after, Alice wandered the house. She couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate on a book; television didn't hold her interest. She tried drinking a cup of chamomile tea to settle herself down and, when that didn't work, a glass of wine. If it hadn't been so late she would have called Maggie for a soothing heart-to-heart.

Alice stopped at her bedroom door and gazed in at the rumpled bed. She'd tried to crawl back into it to sleep, but the sheets had smelled of Hayes. Of them, their lovemaking. She'd pictured them there, twined together, their hearts fast, their breaths short. And she'd remembered their last words to each other.

She swung away from the door. What did she want of him?

Everything.

The truth of that stole her breath away. She frowned and crossed to the front window. She wanted permanency. She wanted love and commitment. Happy-ever-after.

She hadn't even come close to being honest with him.

No, that wasn't quite right. She'd been somewhat truthful with him. She'd said she didn't expect those things from him or their relationship. And she didn't. She knew Hayes too well for that.

She squeezed her fingers into fists. This time, there would be no emotional complications. She wouldn't cling or cry. She wouldn't...need him so much.

This time, she vowed, she wouldn't give him a reason or an opportunity to reject her.

Pain and frustration pricking at her heart, she inched aside the lace drape and peered out at the dark porch and the even blacker road and river beyond. How had the situation become so hopelessly tangled so quickly? Knowing what she did about Hayes, how had she allowed herself to fall in love with him again? She rested her head against the window frame, tears stinging her eyes. Had she ever stopped?

A figure separated itself from the shadows at the corner of the house. Alice's heart stopped, then started again with a vengeance. She brought her hand to her throat.
Tim. Dear God, Tim had found out where she lived.

As she made a move to run to the phone, another figure emerged from the shadows, and the two embraced. It wasn't Tim outside her house, she realized. It was Sheri. And Jeff.

She drew her eyebrows together, confused. What was Sheri doing outside? Hayes had said the girl was fast asleep; he'd checked her room—

Turning, Alice raced to the guest room and opened the door. She crossed to the bed and realized instantly what Sheri had done.

Alice thought of how frightened she'd been when she'd come home and seen the dark porch, of how she'd panicked when she and Hayes had found the door unlocked.

She thought, too, of how much she trusted Sheri.

While she was being attacked, Sheri had been sneaking out to meet Jeff.

Sneaking.
Her hands began to shake and she stuffed them into her robe's deep pockets. She'd thought she and Sheri were closer than that. She'd thought they had a better relationship than that, one based on trust and respect.

Anger and betrayal took her breath away, and she returned to the foyer to wait. Within moments she heard the key in the lock, saw the knob turn. Sheri stepped inside, glancing back once before shutting the door. Her lips were tipped up in a small, soft smile; her eyes were dreamy, satisfied. She looked like a woman who had just been with the man she loved.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't see Alice.

A ripple of envy moved through Alice. And longing, so sharp it stung. If only she could look—and feel—the way Sheri did right now: contented and happy, comfortable in the belief that she was loved.

Alice shoved her hands deeper into the robe's pockets. Instead she felt vulnerable, certain it was only a matter of time until Hayes rejected her again. Foolish for opening herself to that possibility, for not learning from the past's painful lessons. And ridiculously, irrationally, hopeful.

Sheri caught sight of her then and stopped in her tracks, the color draining from her face.

“Hello, Sheri.”

“Miss A.” The words came out as a dismayed squeak, and she cleared her throat. “What are you doing...up?”

“That's an excellent question.” Alice took a step toward her, working to control her anger and hurt. “What were you doing up...and out?” She moved her gaze pointedly over her, taking in the nightgown, robe and slippers.

Sheri swallowed. “It's not what you think.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “Nothing happened. Jeff came by and...he needed to...talk.”

“Why didn't you ask him in?”

“It was late and...I...”

“It was too late to have him in, so you went out?” Alice folded her arms across her chest.

“Yes.” Sheri hung her head. “But we weren't doing anything. We just talked. I fell asleep.”

“Sheri, it wouldn't matter if you'd snuck out to go to church. It would still have been a lie. It would still have been wrong. Can you explain your reasoning to me?”

Sheri shook her head, not lifting her gaze. “Are you mad?”

“Yes. And hurt.” Sheri glanced up at her then, obviously surprised. “You betrayed my trust. By sneaking out. With the thing you did with the pillows to try to trick me. That hurts, Sheri. I thought we had a better, more honest, relationship than that. If it was that important to talk to Jeff, you should have asked him in. I would have understood.”

Alice could tell by Sheri's expression that she didn't quite believe her. She took another step toward the girl. “I'm not like your parents. I'll treat you with respect if you treat me the same way. I want to trust you, Sheri. I really do.”