By Appointment Only (26 page)

He reached up without ceremony and unlocked the handcuffs. Danita tumbled into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and covering his throat and neck with kisses. “I love you, Shaun.”

The lump in his throat made it tough to respond. “I adore you, angel,” he said gruffly. “Your mind, your body, the way you say my name when you want to come.”

She took his soft penis in her hand and played with it gently, her eyes downcast. “Are we going to be okay?”

He could barely hear her voice. He stroked her hair. “You tell me.”

When she looked up at him, her eyes sparkled with un-shed tears. But she was smiling. “I’m not a twenty-year-old sex goddess.”

He squeezed her in a bear hug. “Thank God. I’d never be able to keep up with you.”

She kissed him softly. “And I loved being a mother, but not as much as being your wife.”

The quiet conviction in her statement hit him hard. “I’m not asking you to choose,” he said, feeling guilty for some reason.

She had played with him until his cock was fully erect and ready to go. Now she bent and kissed the head of his erection. “Motherhood is a temporary job. But I’ll be your wife forever. And that makes me very happy.”

He groaned and fell back on the bed as she started in on an enthusiastic blow job. “God, I hope so, my love. Because I can’t live without you.”

Hannah wandered around her apartment in a crappy mood. It was late Thursday evening and the first bands of rainfall from Constance were moving over the state. Already, some streets with poor drainage were flooding.

Morgan had called midafternoon and begged off from their final appointment at the Hursts’ office. He was apologetic, but the crew at the theme park site was going crazy trying to outwit the coming storm.

She reassured him, of course, that she understood. And she did. But it didn’t stop her from being disappointed. She was rapidly becoming addicted to those sexual sessions, and she wondered how he would feel about signing up for another two-week block. Tomorrow night was supposed to be the group wrap-up, but because of Constance, the meeting had already been postponed until Saturday afternoon at three, weather permitting.

Sadly, the delay meant Friday would be one long day cooped up inside. Hannah hated inactivity. She would never have survived in a nine-to-five office job. That’s why she loved working with her elderly clients at all three retirement center locations. It kept her out and about and so busy that the days flew by.

She microwaved some popcorn around nine o’clock and ended up not eating it. Her stomach hurt, probably from PMS. That only added to her general blue mood. And she missed Morgan. He had eased his way into her life and made himself indispensable. And despite her best efforts to keep some personal boundaries in their relationship, she now realized that although she
could
function on her own without a man, she no longer wanted to.

She stared at the TV blindly as the truth hit her. She loved Morgan. And she wanted to be his wife. Wow. When had she stopped being scared of that idea? Had those counseling questionnaires and sessions really worked, or was she simply coming to a conclusion that should have been clear to her a long time ago?

Morgan was a man for the long haul. They complemented each other. And the love they shared was strong enough to last. Even if things got rough from time to time, as they invariably would.

She realized that she was smiling a goofy, excited smile. She wanted to tell Elda. Heck, she wanted to tell the world. But Morgan deserved to be the first one to hear her confession. Hannah Quarles was tired of being a coward. She’d been a physical daredevil from time to time, but that was only to cover up her basic insecurities.

Now she no longer had to hide. She was ready to be in love. She was ready to be part of a couple. She was ready to take the plunge, white dress and all.

Everything inside her went all mushy and soft as she imagined gliding down a long, carpeted aisle, wearing a fairy-tale gown and walking toward the handsome man who waited for her. He would be so happy. She couldn’t wait to let him know.

But he was in the middle of an extremely stressful situation at the moment. She would wait until the storm was over to have the
big talk
. Maybe on Saturday after the final group thing, the two of them could go out to dinner and she would tell him she wanted to set a date.

She grinned to herself, imagining his face when she broke the news. Then she looked at the beautiful ring he had placed on her finger. Mrs. Hannah Webber. It sounded pretty darn good. This was going to be a great weekend.

Morgan rolled over on the hard, narrow sofa and groaned as he tried squinting at the clock on the far wall of the trailer to check the time. The faint gray light of dawn told his internal body clock it must be around six thirty, even if he couldn’t quite read the numbers. Every bone in his body protested the idea of moving. Because of an insane need to monitor the rapidly deteriorating weather situation overnight, he’d camped out in this stifling metal box along with two of his best guys who were now sprawled out in sleeping bags at his feet.

It had been sometime after midnight when they all fell comatose into bed, or what passed for bed at the moment. The pounding rain on the metal roof, along with the shrieking winds, had sounded like a glimpse of hell. For several hours beforehand they had worked like dogs making preparations, but the storm would have the last word. He just hoped they’d be able to clean up the mess in a day or two and get back on schedule.

He nudged his cohorts one at a time with his foot. “Hey . . . you two . . . let’s go see how bad it is.”

The scope of the disaster was appalling. Morgan swallowed the sour taste of defeat and scrubbed his hands over his face. It was still raining, of course, but the water falling now was a gentle shower compared to what had gone before.

The radio stations were reporting that fourteen inches of precipitation had pounded the central part of the state in as little as six hours. The site for the next great theme park no longer existed.

Morgan was stunned. And angry. And tired to the point that his hair follicles ached. As far as the eye could see there was nothing left of his months of hard work but a sea of mud littered with palm branches and debris. The underground pipes that had been so painstakingly laid out in grids were mostly exposed. And worse than that, they were broken, twisted, crumpled by the whims of Mother Nature. In another month or so the paving and planting would have begun. But the site had been at its most vulnerable moment, and now it was nothing more than a wet, mucky garbage heap.

He reached desperately for perspective. There was no loss of life. This wasn’t his personal money at stake. And there was insurance, of course. But the sheer waste made him sick. He walked over to where the other two men stood and stared at them grimly. “Start making phone calls. Get as many of our guys back out here as you can. We might as well get started.”

It killed Hannah to hear the defeat and misery in Morgan’s voice Friday morning and not be able to help him. He had called primarily to check on her, but he’d been unable to disguise his frustration, and she had dragged all the details out into the open. Maybe knowing she was waiting for him could be enough to get him through this tough spot.

She knew it would be tomorrow at least before she would see him again. He had promised to meet her for the last group session. In the meantime, she would stay busy and try not to worry about him constantly.

She called Elda to make sure things were okay at Fluffy Palms. The report was good. Some downed trees. A few cars damaged. But nothing major. The two other retirement centers fared about the same.

Hannah kept the Weather Channel on as she puttered around the apartment. Constance had moved out into the Gulf and would soon be causing problems for Louisiana or Texas. Occasionally one of the roving reporters did a location update from Orlando.

Many streets were flooded and some power lines were down. Law enforcement had requested that the public cut out all but the most essential trips by car. Traffic light outages and debris on the roads made travel dangerous.

Hannah still felt slightly nauseous, and she wished her period would start. Food was not at all appealing, but she made herself eat soup and a grilled cheese for lunch. Afterward, she decided to clean out her bedroom closet. That would keep her occupied until dinnertime, and then maybe a movie and a long talk on the phone with her fiancé would round out the evening.

She rubbed her tummy and grimaced. What she really wanted to do was veg on the couch all day, but that seemed self-indulgent in the extreme. She had plenty of chores she had been putting off. And today was the perfect time to play catch-up.

By Saturday morning, Morgan was ready to drop. He wasn’t authorized to approve overtime, and besides, until the land started drying out, he’d done about all that was in his power to ameliorate the situation. The crew had spent hours yesterday shoveling up the detritus from the storm, and now all they could do was wait.

The sun was supposed to make an appearance this afternoon, so surely by Monday there would be some improvement in the soil conditions. In the meantime, he would go home, clean up, and sleep for a while before meeting Hannah downtown.

He never got past the shower, unfortunately. His mother phoned, and he could tell from her voice that something was wrong. His still-young, self-reliant parents rarely contacted him for any kind of help, so despite the poor timing, he felt like he had to go.

He stopped by Hannah’s on the way. She opened the door, and a smile lit up her face. “You’re early,” she said, pulling him inside for a hug and a kiss.

He held her tightly, feeling some of his tension drain away. “I hate like hell to tell you this, but I’ve got to go to Ocala. My mom called, and something is wrong. She wouldn’t tell me over the phone, but I’m wondering if the house has been damaged.”

Her face fell, but she managed a smile. “It’s okay, Morgan, really. I’ll go on to the meeting without you. And they’ll all understand. You take care of your parents. Make sure they’re okay.”

He covered her mouth in a long lazy kiss that threatened to lead to something else. Even as tired as he was, his body was primed and ready. Holding Hannah had that effect on him every time.

Finally he broke the kiss and simply held her. He would give just about anything to walk down the hall to her bedroom, make love to her for an hour, and then sleep with her . . . sweet, blessed sleep.

He straightened and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

She followed him to the door and pinched his butt. “I’m counting on it,” she teased. He stepped into the hall, and Hannah put a hand on his arm. “Wait a minute.”

He lifted an eyebrow, his gaze roving over her face, her hair, her soft, wonderful body. “Yeah?”

She touched him in an intimate location, causing him to suck in a quick appreciative breath. “I have a special surprise for you tonight,” she purred, her fingers bold and dead on. Much more of this and he’d be taking her in the hallway and to hell with anything else.

He cleared his throat. “Will I like it?” he asked, trying to remember why he had to leave.

She gave him one last naughty caress. “I can guarantee it. You’ll be a happy man.”

Morgan’s parents lived in an upscale two-story colonial at the fringes of his dad’s favorite golf course. Grandpa Webber had opened a rental car company back in the early sixties when tourism was beginning to boom, and had amassed a respectable amount of money from his efforts.

Morgan’s dad took over in the early eighties, and the family fortune had continued to grow. When Morgan evinced no interest in the business, his dad kept right on working. Finally, a year ago, he took early retirement, and now he enjoyed his daily golf games and his well-earned, relaxing lifestyle.

When Morgan pulled up in the driveway, everything looked fairly normal. A couple of the trees had lost small branches. And junk still littered the street and yard. But other than that, he couldn’t see a problem.

Of course, the roof might have leaked. That wasn’t always obvious from the outside. Then he gave himself a mental kick and climbed out of the car, his muscles aching. He wasn’t going to solve the puzzle by sitting out here doing nothing.

His mother answered the door, and on first glance, seemed her usual self. She herded him back to the kitchen and offered him lunch. Since he’d skipped breakfast, and his stomach was growling, he jumped on the invitation. His mom’s chicken salad was legendary.

His dad joined them moments later, his demeanor distracted. He was even quieter than normal. Morgan’s mom was the talker in the family. The three of them chitchatted idly until the meal was complete, and then Morgan tried to figure out what was wrong. “Mom . . . Dad . . . is there a problem from the storm? Do you need me to go up on the roof and check things out?”

Morgan’s mother paled. She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. His dad shoved back from the table and stalked to the sink, staring out the window at the wet, messy yard. His back was stiff.

Morgan swallowed a fillip of unease. “Mom?” He’d start with her, since it was obvious his dad wasn’t inclined to be communicative. Or maybe his mom had called Morgan without informing her husband, and his dad was pissed. His pop hated being coddled, especially if there were any hints about him getting older.

Morgan was tired and his usual patience was at a low ebb. “Mom.” He repeated the single syllable forcibly. “What the heck is going on?”

She raised her head, tears glittering in her eyes. For the first time he could remember, she looked her age. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.”

Morgan heard a ringing in his ears, like that one time in high school wrestling class when a two-hundred-pound classmate had knocked him flat on his ass.