Dare to Love (19 page)

He waited for her to say something. But when several minutes had passed without a word from her, he got up from the couch and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He'd give her a couple of minutes to clear out, without having to put them both through any awkward platitudes, without forcing her to lie. And then, somehow, he'd get on with the rest of his life....

Andrea heard the door click as Doug shut the bathroom door. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them, hugging them so tightly it hurt. She welcomed the physical pain, using it to ward off the ripping of her heart.

She hurt for herself, for the fact that she loved Doug so completely and was so frightened to admit it. But mostly she hurt for him, for the life he'd been handed, for the memories that would always haunt him. She felt completely helpless as she sat there, unable to make any of it better for him, unable to change anything, to promise anything, to love him as he deserved to be loved.

“You're still here.”

Andrea jumped up off the couch. She hadn't heard the bathroom door open. “Did you want me to go?” she asked. The thought hadn't even occurred to her.

He shrugged. “Only if you wanted to.” He stood in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, as if unsure what to do next.

Andrea understood then. He'd expected her to be gone. He'd expected her to be so shocked, so repulsed, that she'd want nothing more to do with him.

He couldn't have been further from the truth. She walked up to him, slid her arms up his naked chest and locked them around his neck.

“Nothing you've said here today changes the way I feel about you, friend. Except to give me a new respect for the depth of your courage.”

He encircled her with his arms, pulling her against him so tightly she could feel his heartbeat against her chest. He stood there holding her, nuzzling his face in her neck, more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him.

Andrea let her hands run slowly along his back, caressing the broadness of his shoulders, reassuring him in the only way she knew. “How'd you get this?” she asked softly, fingering the scar on his shoulder.

“My old man came home late one night shortly after my fourteenth birthday. He apparently decided I was sleeping too peacefully, because he landed on me with a knee in my back and his hand in my hair. He only got me twice that time before I got loose. I took off, looking for someplace to spend the rest of the night. I fell asleep leaning up against the dumpster behind our building.”

Andrea laid her head on his chest while she listened to him, marveling that he was such a good man in spite of the memories he carried around in his head.

“The next thing I knew I had a knife in my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by a group of Scorpions. I was trespassing on their space. It was the only home I'd ever known, but it was their space. The next day I scoured the streets with a pocketful of pills. I bribed every guy I could find to join my gang. That night, the Rattlers fought their first brawl. And we won back my dumpster.”

She looked up when he finished, smoothing the hair back away from his face, wishing she knew how to soothe his soul as well. Her fingers brushed against the scar at his temple.

“Was this from that brawl?” she asked.

Doug caught her hand, bringing it to his lips as he shook his head.

“That's the result of a piece of flying glass from a holdup at Tremont's Jewelers a couple of years ago. Our suspect tried to escape the hard way.”

He pulled her against him again, just holding her.

“Did you get him?” she asked, her voice muffled against the warmth of his chest.

“What do you think?”

He loosened his hold just enough to look into her eyes, telling her things he'd never said in words, things he might never be able to say but that she desperately needed to know. All the love she felt for him was in her eyes as she tried to answer him.

“Will you make love with me?” he asked. He'd asked the words before, but never like this, never like her answer mattered to him.

Andrea fought with herself. She loved Doug. Making love with him would only be an extension of what she was already feeling. But would it be fair to him? Would it be fair to start something she wasn't sure she could carry through for the long run? Because while she wasn't afraid to make love with him tonight, she was terrified to consider committing herself to a lifetime with him. Not because of him—she had complete faith in Doug. It was herself she couldn't trust.

Doug must have read her silence for an answer. He pushed her away before she could reach any kind of decision. If he'd only kissed her, there wouldn't have been any decision to make. She wouldn't have been strong enough to deny herself, or him, anymore. But he didn't kiss her. He walked back over to the window, looking out into the falling darkness.

“I really don't know where you get off, lecturing me about my feelings for Jeremy. You're hardly an authority on the subject, Andrea.”

She heard the disappointment in his words, but she heard honesty as well. “What do you mean?”

He turned around to face her, and the look on his face shocked her. She saw pity there. Pity from the man she'd once thought so cold he'd forgotten how to feel.

“You care for the kids at school. You give your all to them. As a group. But did you ever stop to think that you never—
ever
—care for anyone one-on-one?”

“You don't know what you're talking about. I love my parents very much.”

“Sure you do. Because they're safe. Their role in your life is predetermined. They're the providers, not the providee. You don't have to worry about shaping their lives, or even sharing them.”

Andrea felt the blood drain from her face. She wrapped her arms around her chest, holding on.

“You ask others to care—hell, you even
teach
them how. But you don't practice what you preach.”

“That's not true.” Her words sounded weak even to her own ears.

“You're the most giving, unselfish person I've ever met, Andrea. You really make a difference in this world—you save the lives of children who might not have made it without your compassion. But you're afraid to take on anything personal, aren't you? That's why you feel so threatened by my involvement with Jeremy, isn't it? That's why you won't let me make love to you.”

He walked up to her until their bodies were so close she could feel his heat, but he didn't touch her.

“Well, I got news for you, lady,” he said, sounding angry now. “I
am
personal. And I'm not going away.”

Andrea looked up at him, wanting so badly for him to hold her, knowing that all she had to do was ask him. She thought of Scotty, of her ex-husband. She thought of disappointing Doug like she'd disappointed them. She thought of losing Doug like she'd lost them. And then she ran.

She didn't stop until she was locked in her own apartment. She fell down onto her bed, shaking, out of control, knowing her life was nothing the way it should be.

“I
‘M SORRY
.”

“Where are you?” Doug's voice came over the telephone line, deep, forceful, so totally Doug.

“At home. I came straight home.” She couldn't believe it was only three hours since she'd left him. It felt more like three years.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Good. Well, thanks for calling.”

“Doug?” She couldn't let him hang up. She might never work up the courage to do this again.

“Yeah?”

“I want to make love with you.” She said the words so quickly her tongue tripped over her teeth.

“Are you sure this time?”

“As sure as I'll ever be.”

“I'm on my way.” The line crackled.

“Wait! I mean, that's not all.”

“What's not all? Oh. You need me to stop by the drugstore on my way?”

“No! I'm on the pill, but...”

“If you're worried about my health, I was tested just a couple of months ago.”

“I'm not worried. And you don't have to worry about mine, either.” She'd never thought this would be so difficult.

“Then what is it?”

“I want to make love with you, but only if it's one time at a time.”

“What the hell's that supposed to mean?”

Andrea stood at her living-room window, gazing out into the darkness. If he couldn't give her this, she couldn't give him anything. “No commitments, no future, no promises.”

The line hung with dead silence. “Is there any other way?” he finally asked.

“Don't make it sound like that, Doug. What I feel for you, the way I want you, is like nothing I've ever felt before. But I'm no good at commitments. I don't want to ruin things.”

“You can't break promises that aren't made, is that it?” His disappointment was barely concealed.

Andrea could feel tears burning the back of her eyes again. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I shouldn't have called.”

He sighed. “Yeah, you should have. It's okay, Andrea. The only promises I'm making are for today. I'm on my way, baby, and it's going to be perfect—I give you my word on it.”

Andrea smiled, leaving her living room behind as she carried her cordless phone toward her bedroom. “How soon can you be here?”

* * *

D
OUG KNOCKED ON HER DOOR
, his hair still damp from the shower he'd taken, his face freshly shaved. His legs looked strong and firm in their form-fitting black jeans. His zipper was already bulging.

Andrea was glad she'd changed into the black silk teddy, even though she'd had to send up a quick prayer when she'd cut off the tags that Gloria's radar was turned off for the night.

She fell against Doug, throwing her arms around his neck, sure that she was doing the right thing. There was no more denying the frightening hunger he'd woken within her.

“Let's go to bed,” he growled against her ear. He kicked the door shut behind him and half led, half pulled her across the living room and down the hall.

He pulled off his black leather boots as soon as he reached her bedroom doorway, letting them fall behind him as he followed her to the bed. His jacket and T-shirt dropped to the floor halfway across the room. His impatient fingers went to the button on his jeans.

Andrea sat on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed demurely, watching him unzip his pants. She'd never felt such desire just from looking at a man, from thinking about what lay ahead. She'd never known anticipation could be so powerful. He kicked off his jeans, taking his briefs with them.

Liquid warmth flooded Andrea's crotch as he stood, proudly jutting, in front of her. There was nothing shy or hesitant about Doug Avery. There never had been.

Doug had to force himself not to manhandle Andrea as she sat so temptingly on the bed, her beautiful body mostly revealed by the thin layer of black lace she was wearing. Her breasts were full and creamy, and falling out of their brief covering. Her nipples were already hard, puckering against their satiny confines.

Her waist was slim, the perfect complement to her rounded, womanly hips. And her thighs... Doug leaned forward, sliding his arms beneath hers, propelling her backward. He couldn't even look at the sweet black curls peeking out from the juncture of her thighs. He knew the limits to his self-control. He knew he was already dangerously close to reaching them.

She fell back on her bed, reaching up to run her fingers through the hair on his chest. Her touch was electric. Doug felt a satisfaction broader, bigger, better than anything he'd ever known before because her passion was for
all
of him, scarred as he was.

He looked down at her, sprawled beneath him on her satiny white comforter. Her eyes were wide open. She was with him all the way.

“You're not going to be sorry for this. I'll make sure of it,” he said, his voice husky with need.

“I'm not sorry, Doug. It hurts too much to want you. I can't stand it anymore.”

“That makes two of us, lady,” he said. He reached his hand down between their bodies, unsnapped her teddy and slid his fingers boldly between her legs.

“You're ready already,” he said with satisfaction. He'd never had such an eager woman in his arms before. He gave up trying to fight what she did to him.

Andrea smiled, spreading her legs a little wider beneath his as she too reached down between them. “It seems I'm not the only one in that condition.”

Doug leaned on his elbows, taking a breast in each of his hands.

“Oh God, Andrea. This isn't how I planned it,” he groaned, just before he plunged into her.

Andrea clutched Doug's buttocks, riding the tense muscles while he rode her. She met him thrust for thrust, so filled with love, with need, with him, that she was losing all traces of coherent thought.

Her mouth was consumed by him, his tongue sending spirals of desire down her back and between her legs. Her breasts were possessed by him, tingling and heavy beneath his touch. Her body was one with him, giving a whole new meaning to the physical union between a man and a woman.

Their need was too great, their desire too long denied for them to have time for foreplay. Andrea's hips accommodated Doug's body, driving with him, pushing him harder and harder until she thought she'd go mad. She felt him stiffen, heard his gasp as his body exploded within hers, and then suddenly she was spiraling alone, up and away to a realm where only sensation existed. Everything she was, everything she had ever been, became centered in that space, pulsing around Doug's body until she was weak and spent, and lay beneath him resplendent with peace.

Doug rolled off of her, lying flat on his back with his arm flung over his face. “God, lady, what'd you do to me? I've never embarrassed myself like that before. I swear it.”

Andrea laughed. She couldn't help it. She couldn't ever remember feeling so good.

“Don't laugh. My ego's already small enough as it is.”

Andrea reached her hand down. “But you're still plenty big where it counts....”

She leaned over and licked his nipple, needing to taste him, to feel him, to become as familiar with his body as she was her own, now that she could be patient enough to enjoy the journey.

“Andrea.” His voice held a note of warning.

“You wouldn't want me to think it's always ‘wham bam, thank you, ma'am' with you, would you?”

Doug pulled her over on top of him, lifting his hips against her as he ran his fingers down her back and across her bottom. Andrea shivered.

“Let's see how much you can take, shall we?” he said, catching her nipple between his teeth.

Andrea couldn't believe herself. A wild woman had taken over her tense, controlled existence, lighting a fire within her that she wasn't sure would ever be extinguished. She touched Doug, giving in to her heated flesh, hoping that neither one of them would get burned by her actions.

* * *

T
HE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED
were out of space, out of time. Andrea didn't think about the past. She didn't look to the future. She didn't let herself make love to Doug nearly as often as she wanted to. And she never let him spend the night. She kept hoping that her desire for him would lessen, that her love would wane. It never did.

She knew Doug was still spending time with Jeremy. She'd stopped by Doug's apartment Tuesday evening and found the boy there with him, making a pizza. They'd invited her to stay, but she'd refused. She was still convinced that Jeremy was only paying lip service to Doug. She was still scared silly that Doug was setting himself up for a major fall. She still thought Doug was wrong to have singled out the boy. She decided to spend Thanksgiving alone.

* * *

D
OUG'S PHONE RANG
early on Thanksgiving morning. He rolled over in his sofa bed, fighting the bitter taste of disappointment as reality intruded on his dreams and he realized that he was in bed alone. He reached for the receiver.

“Avery.” He sat up, leaning against the back of the couch. There was no evidence anywhere in the room that Andrea had been there the night before, loving him like he'd never been loved. The woman could pick up and leave more quickly than he'd ever done.

“Doug? It's Gloria Parker.”

“Gloria? Has something happened to Andrea?”

“She's the same as always, Doug, same as always. Which is why I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing me a favor—that is, if you're still feeling about my daughter the way you felt last time we talked.”

“Depends on the favor.”

“Andrea's planning to spend the day alone.”

“Some people like it that way.”

“Not Andrea. She hates it. She's just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

That sounded a lot like Andrea. “And you think I can do something about it?”

“She wouldn't turn you away if you showed up on her doorstep.”

He'd planned to spend the day on his couch, watching football and feeling sorry for himself. “Maybe I'll give her a call.”

“No!” Doug pulled the phone away from his ear as Gloria's panic resounded in his eardrum. “If you call her, she'll say no. I know she will. But my daughter's got a big heart. She won't be able to turn you away if you show up on her doorstep all alone, looking for someplace to spend the day, especially if you have a turkey in your arms.”

The woman was something else. He pictured Andrea growing up with her mother, getting the best of her now and then. The vision made him smile.

“Cooked or uncooked?”

“Oh, uncooked, definitely.”

Doug swung his legs to the side of the bed, keeping the sheet across his naked hips. “I'll think about it,” he said, unwilling to let the woman know how completely he could be manipulated.

And he did think about it. For the five seconds it took him to get from his bed to his bathroom. The thought of spending the whole day with Andrea, alone in her apartment, was too good to pass up. But he drew the line at the turkey.

* * *

“I
‘M GLAD YOU CAME
,” Andrea said late that evening. She and Doug were curled up in her bed, sated and replete. It wasn't the first time they'd been there that day.

“Mmm. Me too,” he mumbled against her breast. And he was. But he wasn't satisfied. For the first time in his life he wanted more, dared to allow himself to hope for more, wasn't satisfied to take what he could get.

“I don't know what possessed me to buy such a big turkey,” she said dreamily. “I'd have been eating leftovers till Christmas.”

“Mmm...”

“You hungry? We still have lots left.”

“We can have it for breakfast in the morning.” His words hung in the air between them.

“I, uh, don't eat breakfast.”

“You could watch me eat it.”

“Doug. Don't do this.”

Doug pushed away from her, getting up to slip into his jeans. He zipped them, but left them unbuttoned. He stalked back to the bed, leaning down to place one hand on either side of her, his face only inches from hers.

“What am I? Some kind of damn gigolo? Good enough to romp with, but nothing else? What? I might soil your sheets if I stay in them too long?”

Tears welled up in Andrea's eyes. Doug tried not to see them. He couldn't stay angry with her if she was going to cry.

“Don't say that.” Her words were barely above a whisper. “You promised. No commitments.”

“As I recall, it was no promises, either. But that was then. Andrea, for the first time in my life I want more than good sex. I want what other guys have, what Stan Ingersoll has—a woman in his bed at night, the same woman every night. I want to hold you in my arms when I go to sleep, and find you there when I wake up. Why is that so much to ask?”

“Because you're asking the wrong woman.”

“Why? You let me enter your body, but cringe at the thought of me holding you while you sleep?”

She met his gaze steadily, her eyes filled with resolution—and a hint of something more, something painful. “I cringe at the thought of you leaving my bed when it goes sour.”

“And how do you know it will?”

“I don't know. I just can't take that chance. I'm no good at loving, Doug. I lose perspective. I let people down.”

Doug swore, pushing away from the bed to stalk across the room. “That's bullshit. Who have you let down? A man who didn't love you enough to stand by you when you needed him? Who else?”

“It wasn't like that, Doug. I let him down first. And it wasn't just him.” She got out of bed, shrugging into the terry-cloth robe she'd worn earlier when they'd gone to the kitchen for dinner. “Look, what you're asking for isn't unreasonable. It isn't even unfair. But I'm just not the one to give it to you. I told you that two weeks ago.”