Cross My Heart (11 page)

He walked up the steps with her, but inside the house all
was quiet and deserted. Elyse looked at her watch. It was after eleven.
"Liz must have gotten home before me," she said. "If you'll wait a
minute I'll run up and check."

Upstairs Janey lay stretched out on her small bed
clutching a disheveled Cabbage Patch doll. She was sound asleep. Elyse
tiptoed in and kissed her daughter's forehead, then knocked softly on
Liz's door. When there was no answer she peeked in to find Liz also
asleep.

Downstairs she returned to the family room, where Clint
stood waiting for her. He must have been watching the doorway, because
when she walked through it their gazes collided. Elyse felt her bones
start to melt. He looked so… so hungry.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it as she cleared her
throat. "Both Liz and Janey are asleep," she said, and licked her
suddenly dry lips. "Do… do you want a drink? Or I could make
coffee…"

He pulled lightly on her hand, bringing her closer without
ever breaking eye contact. "You know what I want," he said in a husky
whisper. "I want you. Now."

With a tiny cry of surrender she walked into his waiting
arms.

They took up where they'd left off in the car, wrapped in
a tight embrace, mouths locked together, straining to relieve some of
the throbbing urgency that had been tormenting them for hours.

For the first time Clint allowed his hands to roam freely,
and they slid tenderly over her back and shoulders, her breasts and her
buttocks, leaving prickles of fire as they stopped, then moved
restlessly on.

Elyse caressed his back, but his suit jacket was in the
way. She reached between them and unfastened it so she could feel the
flexing muscles beneath his pink shirt. He sighed deeply as her fingers
gently massaged him, then moved provocatively up and down his spine.
"I've wanted so badly to feel your hands on me," he murmured against
her lips.

"It's my pleasure," she whispered back. "You have a
strong, solid body, and touching it does the most indecent things to
me."

He put both his hands on her bottom and pulled her against
him, making her tingle with need. "I don't have to tell you what you do
to me," he said, "and have been doing to me ever since we first met.
There were times when I thought I'd go mad with frustration."

He was rigid with desire, and she shivered as he moved
against her. She reveled in the knowledge that she could do this to
him. The power it gave her was heady, but it also robbed her of her
reason, her good sense and her ability to resist. She wanted him just
as much as he wanted her, and his masculine need overwhelmed her as her
body prepared itself for his possession.

He kissed her again, roughly this time, then broke off
abruptly and nibbled at her earlobe. "Where's your bedroom?" he asked
in a voice gravelly with yearning.

"Upstairs," she answered in a dazed tone.

"Are you protected?"

She blinked and tried to understand the question even as a
cold chill swept her. "Protected?"

"Have you taken precautions, or do you want me to?"

Protected? Precautions? My God,
she could get
pregnant
! How could she have been so careless—
again
!

She straightened in his arms and pulled back. "No. No, I'm
not protected. Oh, Clint, I didn't even think!" The fire that had built
in her died as the cold splash of reality and past mistakes drenched it.

Clint was still caught in the urgency of desire and didn't
seem to notice her distress. "It's all right," he said, and tried to
lead her toward the doorway. "I'm prepared."

Prepared. It sounded so cold. So rehearsed. Was he always
"prepared" just in case a desirable woman crossed his path, or had sex
simply been the last item in the agenda he'd planned for today?
Symphony, dinner, bed. All nice and neat.

She knew she was being unreasonable, but her mind was in
turmoil and she had no control over her thoughts. Shock that she could
act so irresponsibly, guilt over her earlier unplanned pregnancy and
the last remnants of arousal had jumbled her reason and left her
depleted and unresponsive.

She felt a tug at her waist. "Elyse, come on. I told you
I'd take care of it." Clint was frowning, and there was impatience in
his tone.

She pulled back. "Clint, I… I can't."

She felt him tense. "You what?"

"I can't. I'm sorry, but—"

"What do you mean, you can't?" The impatience was gone,
and his voice was cold.

He didn't understand. How could he? She didn't understand
herself. "I just can't," she said disconsolately.

He dropped his arm from around her and stepped away. "I
see." His words seemed frozen. "Then why did you let things go so far?"

"Oh, Clint, please—" she cried, desperate to
explain, but unable to gather her thoughts into any semblance of order.

"I told you what I wanted," he said, without waiting for
her to finish. "You could have refused then."

She could see the rage building in him and hear the
disgust in his tone as he continued. "I wouldn't have pushed you into
something you didn't want, so why in hell did you wait so long to say
no?"

"It's not like that—"

"Never mind," he grated, and turned away from her. "I
don't want to hear any excuses."

He stomped out of the room and slammed the front door
behind him before she could pull herself together to follow him.

Elyse didn't go to bed. Instead she sat huddled in a ball
in a corner of the sofa, alternately wailing and sobbing quietly. Thank
heaven the bedrooms were on the second floor in this sturdily built
house and she could grieve without being heard by the sleeping
occupants.

How could she have mishandled everything so badly? It had
been such a joyful day, and by the time they'd gotten home she'd wanted
to make love just as badly as Clint had. Probably more, because she
knew now that she was in love with him.

Another spurt of weeping shook her. It didn't seem
possible that she could have gotten so carried away that she'd
forgotten to take proper precautions. No one knew better than she the
misery of being an unwed mother. Maybe it was different in the city,
but in a small town like Placerville she'd endured the prejudices that
had crept into the attitudes of her friends and neighbors.

Not that anyone had actually been unkind. They'd all known
that she'd intended to marry soon, but still there had been the covert
glances, the whispers and the rather smug pity that were almost worse
than outright hostility.

And Janey. It was even worse for Janey. While several of
her friends didn't live with their fathers, they at least had them and
could see them now and then. Janey had never had a father, and as she
grew older she would be more and more aware of that lack. It wasn't
something that could be, or even should be, concealed, and it would set
her apart.

If only Elyse could have pulled herself together and
explained all this to Clint. But how could she, when for a moment she'd
been so totally undone she'd even blamed him for being unwilling to
proceed without caution!

Again hot tears poured down her cheeks. At that stage of
arousal most men would have been too aware of their own needs to give a
thought to the consequences, but Clint had managed to remain
responsible and mature. No wonder he'd been so outraged—and
she'd been too immature and tongue-tied to explain.

By four in the morning, Elyse's head was throbbing, her
stomach was queasy and she was totally exhausted. She rose, wincing as
cramped muscles protested, and dragged herself upstairs, where she fell
into bed without even undressing.

Elyse slept until Janey woke her at eight-thirty on Monday
morning, and as soon as she'd showered and dressed she telephoned Clint
at his office in the Capitol Building in Sacramento. She knew the next
move was up to her, and she was anxious to straighten things out, but
she was told he was in a committee meeting and would be unavailable
until midafternoon. That night she called his house, but he hadn't
returned home. The housekeeper asked if she'd like to leave her name
and a message, but she said no.

On Tuesday she spent a restless night and phoned the house
shortly after daybreak, but he'd already left. She waited until nine,
then called the office again and found that the Senate was in session
and Senator Sterling was on the floor.

Elyse's nerves were strung tight, and it was almost
impossible for her to concentrate on anything but her desperate need to
contact Clint to try to make amends. She didn't expect him to ask to
see her again, but she couldn't let him continue to think she'd been
deliberately teasing him.

She waited until after eleven that night to ring the house
again, but nobody answered.

Once more she got little sleep, and on Wednesday morning
when she dialed his office for the third time in as many days her hands
trembled so much that she had to hang up and start over again. When she
asked for Senator Sterling the receptionist requested her name and
telephone number. Elyse hung up quickly, but now it wasn't just her
hands that were trembling.

She realized she would be the object of a security
investigation if she called the office again. Anyone calling for a
public figure three days in a row and requesting information of his
whereabouts without identifying herself was suspect.

What was she going to do? She couldn't keep trying to
reach him without identifying herself, but she didn't want to leave a
message for him to call her. If she did it would be up to him to decide
whether he wanted to talk to her. She couldn't let him make that
decision. If she could find him and he'd allow it, she'd apologize in
person. If he didn't want that she'd do it on the phone, but it was her
responsibility, not his.

Things couldn't go on this way. She was a nervous wreck.
She couldn't sleep, she had no appetite and she was getting jumpy and
shrewish. She was even impatient with Janey, and although she hadn't
told Liz about the quarrel with Clint, her sister had been eyeing her
warily.

She had to take some type of action.

It wasn't until Liz came home from school and started
getting ready for her date with Paul that the solution occurred to
Elyse. Paul Sterling, Clint's brother. Maybe he could intervene on her
behalf.

Fortunately Liz had been delayed by a visit from the
worried mother of one of her problem students and was still dressing
when Paul arrived. Elyse greeted him and they went into the family room
to wait.

When the amenities were done with and they were seated in
comfortable chairs she got right to the point. "Paul, I have a problem
and I need your help."

Paul looked puzzled. "Sure, what do you want me to do?"

Elyse's smile was bittersweet. How much like Clint he was.
He didn't ask what, where or why, just how he could help.

She clenched her hands and began quietly. "Clint and I had
a…a disagreement. It was my fault entirely. He
misunderstood… uh… something I did, but under the
circumstances anyone would have."

It was hard going. She couldn't tell Paul what she'd done
to Clint, and she wouldn't let him think his brother was in any way
wrong. "He… he left before I could explain. Actually,
I…I didn't seem to be explaining at all."

Paul leaned forward and spoke. "Take it easy, Elyse. You
don't have to go into the reason. Just tell me what you want me to do."

His blue eyes were soft with compassion and there was a
gentleness in his voice that was just like Clint's. Her sister would
make a big mistake if she didn't marry him as quickly as possible. Paul
loved Liz just as surely as Elyse had messed up any chance of Clint's
ever loving her.

She felt tears gathering and quickly blinked them back. "I
can't find him, Paul," she blurted. "I want to apologize, explain and
tell him how sorry I am, but I can't seem to connect with him. I've
phoned his home and his office so many times that I suspect they're
thinking I'm some kind of nut, but he's never there."

"Clint's in Los Angeles, Elyse," Paul said. "I don't know
where he was before, but he caught an early flight to L.A. this morning
and will be gone for at least a couple of days."

"Oh." She felt a slight sense of relief. At least now she
knew he wasn't in town, so she'd wait before trying to contact him
again.

Paul spoke once more. "Are you saying he hasn't bothered
to call you back?"

Elyse shook her head. "No, it's not that. I didn't leave
my name or a message. I don't want to put him in the position of having
to call me."

She saw Paul's look of bewilderment and hurried on. "I
know it sounds silly, but it's important to me. I was wondering if
there was some way you could find out the next time he planned to spend
a day or evening at home and let me know." Her voice rose. "I've got to
talk to him. I can't let him go on thinking—" She broke off
and ran her fingers through her already disheveled curls. "Oh, Paul, I
don't know what to do." There was anguish in her tone.

Paul jumped from his chair and went over to hunker down in
front of her. "Hey, come on, it can't be that bad," he murmured as he
clasped her hands between his. "I'm sure big brother hasn't been
avoiding you. He's just busy. I can never get through to him, either.
In an election year like this he's hardly ever home or in his office,
but if you want me to track him down for you, I will."

Elyse managed a watery smile. "Oh, please. I'm going
crazy. I promise not to bother him, but I have to make him understand."

"Tell you what I'll do. I've got an in with the family
housekeeper. She likes to remind me she used to change my diapers." He
grimaced and made Elyse giggle. "I'll ask her to call me the first time
Clint comes home early and hasn't made plans to go out again. Then I'll
call you. How's that?"