Dear Cupid (32 page)

Linda moved toward it as if in a daze. “This is what you’ve been working on all this time? A baby crib? But ... why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not finished yet.”

“I don’t care. Oh, honey, it’s wonderful.” She ran a finger over the delicate carvings. “I love it.” She lifted smiling eyes toward her husband. “Nearly as much as I love you.”

Kate’s eyes misted as Linda threw her arms around her husband and kissed his cheek. Jim, to her surprise, turned his head enough to bring them lip to lip, something she hadn’t seen him do in weeks. As the kiss deepened, she took her son by the hand. “Come on, Dylan. Show’s over.”

“No it isn’t.” Dylan strained to see the cartoon on the back wall. “It’s still going. See?”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to finish watching that show another time.”

“Ah, Mom!” His feet dragged as he followed her outside, where they nearly ran right into Mike.

“Oh!” Kate’s heart jumped into her throat. “Mike! What are you doing here?”

“Directing,” he said as he glanced toward the open door of the workshop. “Did it work?”

Kate looked from him to the workshop and back again. “You? You’re behind this?”

“That depends.” He grinned broadly. “If it worked, it was all my idea. If it didn’t, I’m blaming Jim.”

“Oh, Mike ...” Kate felt something inside her turn soft as she studied him in the faint light from the moon. “I don’t know what to say, other than thank you for helping Jim and Linda. That was really sweet, and very needed.”

“So, it worked?” he asked.

“Beautifully.” She smiled at him. “I guess I should have known you were in on it. Who would have the equipment to pull something like this off?”

“Not to mention a whole cabinet of cartoon reels to pick from,” Mike added.

“True.”

“You have cartoons?” Dylan asked.

“About a gazillion,” Mike confirmed. “The two I brought tonight are ones I actually worked on.”

“You drew those?” Dylan eyed him with awe.

“Nah,” Mike said. “I just did some cell painting back when I was young enough and foolish enough to work for slave wages.”

“What’s cell painting?” Dylan made a face at the unfamiliar term.

“Well, I tell you what.” Mike squatted down to get eye level with Dylan. “I’ll explain all about how cartoons are made on one condition.”

“What?” Dylan asked eagerly.

“That your mother get me a couple aspirin and a glass of water.” He looked up at Kate with a sheepish smile. “My head is killing me.”

She smiled, wondering how he always slipped past her defenses so easily. “Come on, you two.” She swung her barefooted son up to ride her hip. “We might as well go down to the cabin, since I don’t think Linda and Jim are interested in company right now.”

“Let me get my projector.” Mike disappeared into the trees, and emerged with a heavy-looking piece of equipment.

As they made their way down the hill, she looked back in time to see Jim and Linda walking arm in arm toward the house. An odd blend of happiness and envy settled over her. In spite of their recent turmoil, Jim and Linda had the kind of loving relationship that would endure for a lifetime. How was it that she, who helped so many other people find that kind of love, had never achieved it for herself?

She had Dylan, though, she reminded herself, as her son nestled against her. That was all she needed.

By the time they reached the cabin, Dylan was nearly asleep. She moved carefully to turn a lamp on in the living area, filling the small space with warm light. “Just give me a minute to put Dylan to bed,” she whispered to Mike. “Then I’ll hunt down some aspirin.”

“Wait.” Her son lifted his head and scrubbed his eyes. “Mike was gonna tell me how cartoons are made.”

“Perhaps some other time,” she suggested. “Right now, it’s the middle of the night, and little boys should be in bed.”

“Ah, Mom.”

Mike came forward. “Why don’t you let me put him to bed? I’ll tell him all about my wild-and-woolly days as cell painter in lieu of a bedtime story.”

She started to say no.

“Please, Mom?” Dylan begged.

She looked to an equally eager Mike. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” Mike set his projector down, and presented his back. “Come on, buddy, climb on board.”

With a squeal, Dylan leapt from her arms onto Mike’s back, clinging like a little monkey. The sight brought a pang to her heart. This was how things should be, this easy intimacy at the end of the day.

Struggling against a sense of failure she feared would never fully die, she headed for the kitchen to find the aspirin.

After the mistakes she’d made, how could she risk trying again? All the things she felt for Mike, the physical attraction, the excitement of finding someone whose company she enjoyed, the pleasure that lit within her whenever he was near, they were all things she’d felt before.

It was almost like a tangible object, like a bright shining bubble, filled with the promise of happiness and love eternal. She ached with the temptation to reach out and embrace it as eagerly as Dylan had leapt from her arms onto Mike’s back. But experience had taught her that, for some, the bubble could burst the moment it was touched.

Which was so unfair! Why did other people find the one thing that eluded her? Was there something wrong with her? She didn’t think so. At least she prayed that wasn’t true. For, somewhere deep inside, she realized she still wanted desperately to love and be loved.

Something tickled her cheek and she raised a hand to discover a tear quivering at the edge of her jaw. Great, she thought, this was all she needed, for Mike to catch her crying. He’d no doubt think the tears were for him. But they weren’t. They were for ... well, for
everything
. The safe, solitary life she’d built so carefully for her and Dylan was crumbling around her, and she felt as if a part of her were crumbling right along with it. Swiping at a second tear, she reached for a glass, and carried it to the sink just as the ladder creaked.

“Well, he fought hard,” Mike said in a hushed tone, “but I think the champ is down for the count.”

Kate closed her eyes as the mere sound of Mike’s voice made the knot in her throat tighten. Wiping her cheeks one last time, she pasted on a wobbly smile and turned. “I take that to mean Dylan’s asleep?”

“Dead to the world.”

“Here’s your aspirin.” She handed them to him without meeting his gaze. If she looked at him, she really would cry.

“Thanks.” After he’d swallowed the aspirin, she felt him study her face, the way she always felt his gaze. “Look, Kate, about today—”

“No, please.” She turned away as her control slipped a bit more. “It’s late. We’re both tired. I think we should just let it lie for tonight.”

He remained quiet for a long time before setting the glass aside. “You’re right,” he said at last, moving closer. “In fact, for tonight, I think we should forget the whole thing happened.”

“Yes.” She bit her lip as his hands settled on her shoulders and every muscle down her back melted. Why did his slightest touch affect her so profoundly? She fought the temptation to lean against him, to absorb his strength.

“Let’s forget everything,” he whispered as he bent his head to brush his lips up the side of her neck. A shiver followed the caress, and she closed her eyes. “Forget everything but this.” His arms slipped around her middle as he nuzzled her ear.

How tempting that sounded, to forget everything but the feel of his arms about her, the touch of his lips on her flushed skin. To simply feel, and enjoy, and believe for one brief moment that what Mike felt for her was love. That she would find the courage to return it. And that it would last forever.

“Yes,” she breathed, and turned in his arms to face him. Trembling inside, she opened her eyes and caressed his cheek. “Yes.”

He studied her face, probing for answers she wasn’t ready to give. Rising up, she offered him the only thing she could give, the brush of her lips, the press of her body.

With a groan, he accepted the offering as he pulled her against him and deepened the kiss. Her heart soared as he pressed her back against the counter, fitting his hips to hers. Heat blossomed within her at the feel of his hardness nestled against her soft belly. She stroked his back, his arms, until the kiss turned greedy. His hands moved possessively over her. When he cupped her breasts at last, she broke the kiss to gasp for air.

“I want you, Kate,” he growled against her neck. “I need you.”

“Yes,” she managed to rasp past her own need. She started to reach for him again, but some small part of her brain reminded her where she was: standing beneath an open loft with her son sleeping directly above her. “Not here, though,” she said, nudging his chest.

He frowned in confusion as she wiggled out of his arms. Then the lines in his face melted into a smile as she took his hand and started walking backward. They moved quietly past the ladder, stopping once to embrace and kiss. Touching and turning, like dancers, they continued toward the bedroom door. The row of buttons down the front of her dress came undone, as did the ones on his shirt, giving them each access to bare skin.

The moment they entered the bedroom, darkness enveloped them. Her heart soared as his tongue swept inside her mouth, caressing and possessing by turns. Everything about him excited her, his tenderness, his strength, his control, and his hunger. She wanted and needed all of that tonight.

Pulling out of his arms, she crossed to the bed to turn on a lamp. Soft light dispelled the darkness. When she turned to face him, she found him looking at her as if she were a miracle. Slowly a smile curled his lips.

The fist that had formed in her stomach relaxed. Returning his smile, she shrugged out of her dress. His gaze followed its descent as it dropped to the floor. She reached behind her and released her bra. His eyes darkened as it, too, fell. With shaking hands, she shipped off her panties so she stood before him completely exposed.

With one hand, he reached back and closed the door before moving toward her. His expression made her feel cherished, beautiful, alluring: things she hadn’t felt in a long time. Things she wanted to go on feeling forever.

She closed her eyes to savor the moment as he cupped her face and gently touched his lips to hers.

Yes, her heart sang as he ran his hands downward, over her body, then back up to cup her breasts. They filled his palms as he circled her nipples with his thumbs. A whimper escaped her as he bent his head to suckle her, gently at first, then with growing hunger. Her head fell back as she gloried in the sharp pleasure that knifed through her, cutting clean to her soul.

Even though they’d touched before, enjoyed each other’s bodies, this was the first time she’d given so deeply from herself. She captured his head in her trembling hands, brought his face back up to hers. “Love me,” she whispered, thinking how he made everything seem new. “As if it were the first time.”

Mike frowned at the uncertainty shimmering in her eyes. Didn’t she know how completely he did love her? How she held his very heart in her hands? She was the one with the power to accept or reject, yet he saw his own vulnerability in the fathomless green eyes that stared back at him. At a loss for words to express what he felt, he simply cupped her face and met her gaze steadily. “With you, it’s always like the first time. Always.”

He captured her mouth and poured himself into a kiss, into her. She responded with the honest inhibition that enthralled him and left him shaking. The mere feel of her in his arms, moving against him, drove him to near madness. His heart and mind wanted to be gentle, to show her everything he felt, but his body overrode his better intentions.

Sweeping her into his arms, he laid her on the bed amid the silk pillows. She looked like an erotic dream, the bewitching kind of woman who lounged fully nude on a Victorian couch.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he said as he shed his own clothes and joined her. Her arms wrapped eagerly around him. He drank his fill of her perfumed neck, her soft breasts, her quivering stomach. Every taste, every sip left him more intoxicated than any liquor.

She touched him with equal abandon, trading gasp for gasp, sigh for sigh. He’d always felt connected to her in some strange way, but never so much as now. Each time he suckled her breasts, he felt an answering tightness in his own chest. Each time he dipped his hand to the hot nest between her thighs, his own groin jumped in response. And each time she ran her hands over his taut skin, he saw her eyes go heavy and wild with desire.

The fever swirled around them, through them, binding them in a hot web of pure need. He stretched on top of her, thrilling to every soft curve that yielded beneath him. He buried his hand in her hair as their mouths joined in a frenzy and their bodies moved as if straining to get inside each other’s skin.

With a curse, he broke the kiss, stared into her eyes. “I love you,” he said fiercely as he settled between her legs. “And you love me,” he said as he pressed at the threshold of her body.

For a second, her dazed eyes focused, and she shook her head in denial.

“You do,” he said again, and nuzzled her neck. “Say it, Kate. Say it.” He moved against her, teasing and enticing—and all the while hoping.