Authors: Gail McFarland
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Dench cursed himself.
She isn’t ready for this, and neither am I.
Her hands covered his and she studied his face. “I should have listened. I should have called the other doctor. I should have been more careful, Dench.” Her lips trembled, but no tears fell. “I’m sorry.”
Wrapping his arms around her felt like the only right answer, so that’s what he did. Then he lost track of how long they sat together, and if she’d asked he would have had to confess that he held her because he was afraid to let her go.
Rissa rested her cheek on his shoulder and sighed. “I’ve been hiding out in here long enough,” she said. “I really am going to go back to work tomorrow. I promised to finalize the BeaconGreen contract for Jimmy and Sierra.” She turned her head and pressed her lips to a place beneath his ear, sending a shivering echo of need quivering through him.
Her lips pressed again. “I’ve missed you so much. I just thought…I was afraid that…”
‘I will bend like a reed in the wind.’
The quote caught him off-guard, but it was right.
Now where did that come from?
Then he remembered:
it was from that movie AJ made me sit through the other night—
Dune
.
But the words were so right.
Whatever it takes.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I…”
Dench closed his eyes and moved his cheek against her hair. Inhaling deeply, he caught the scent of jasmine and honey and something else that was uniquely her. He loved her smell and knew that he would willingly sell his soul to hold onto her if he had to.
Whatever it takes.
Her arms tightened around him. “Dench, I am so ready to get back to us, to what we had.”
“That’s all I want, Rissa.”
Moving enough to watch his eyes, her gaze consumed him. “Can you really love me after this?”
“I always have and I’ll never stop. You know I love you like…”
“Jesus loves the church,” she whispered against his lips.
“It’s true,” he told her. “Do you have any idea how important you are to me? What I would do to keep things right with us?”
“I do.” Her eyes suddenly filled, glittering with unshed tears. She sniffed and her lashes dropped, curtaining her eyes. “See what ‘for better or worse’ will get you?”
“I could never ask for more.”
Scooting deeper into his lap, Rissa curved a long leg around his hips and pressed her hands to his face. Her thumbs traced his lips. Her eyes searched his face and his heart soared when she smiled.
“What?”
I was thinking.” She cocked her head and giggled. “Ever thought of shaving your head? How sexy you would look?”
“Shave my head?” He passed a hand over his close-cropped hair and looked at her. “I can honestly say that it’s never occurred to me.”
“Simply studly.”
Her voice poured into his ear so sweetly that he nearly bought it. “Wait a minute. What’s in it for me?”
“A new start, for both of us. Shave your head and I’ll let my hair grow out.” Her fingers flitted over the razor-cut ends of her hair. “I’m overdue for a cut, so I’m a little ahead of you.” She arched an eyebrow and his imagination went into overdrive, serving up images of her romping naked with flowing tresses.
Rissa pushed her other leg around him, binding him to her. “How about it?”
We need a new star
t
, he reasoned, and this was as good a way to begin as any other. “Okay,” he said, hitching her higher and into his arms, making her scream. “Let’s do this.”
Rissa clung to him when he stood, laughing all the way to the bathroom. When her feet touched the floor, she was still laughing, the sound soft, intimate, and healing. Dench laughed with her as they collected shaving supplies.
Pulling a small wooden stool from beneath the curving granite vanity, Rissa slapped the seat. “Sit! I want to do this before you change your mind.”
With so much at stake? There will be no mind changing up in this camp—not today!
Draping a thick white towel over his shoulders, she flipped a hand towel over her own shoulder and tried to look competent, as if she did this every day. When she stood behind him, appraising the task at hand, Dench felt promise shimmer between them.
This is right.
He knew it as surely as he knew that he loved her.
Her hand brushed his head lightly as she picked up the electric clippers and found his eyes in the vanity mirror. “Are you sure?”
Holding her eyes, he nodded. “Do it.”
He sat patiently, accepting her ministrations as she used the clippers to cut his already short hair closer. She hummed softly, absorbed in her task, as she applied hot towels to his scalp to soften his hair. Dench closed his eyes, listening to Rissa whipping creamy soap into rich warm foam. He swallowed hard and vowed not to flinch when her fingers pressed his head forward.
Lord, what the heck am I doing, offering my neck to a depressed woman with a razor in her hand? Have I lost my damned mind?
Opening his eyes slightly, he saw her in the mirror and she looked more like herself than she had in over a month. Thinner, maybe, but definitely Rissa and he swallowed panic and decided not to run.
Trust
, he thought.
I’m going to trust us to get through this.
Taking her time, artfully playful, she lathered his head. Stepping back to admire her beginning, she told him, “You are going to be so beautiful.”
He tried not to match the smile he heard in her voice. “I hope so.”
He felt her hold her breath when the razor touched his skin. Starting from the rear, she tenderly worked across his scalp. “It is beautiful. Baby, you should see.” Head down, Dench reached for a hand mirror. She slapped his hand and giggled. “I said you
should
see, not that you
could
see. No peeking.”
“When you do the front, I’ll see.” He raised the mirror to inspect his head and she caught it in the air.
“No. I have a plan.” Rissa stepped from behind him with the razor in her hand. “Watch.”
Even with the sagging shirt and baggy sweat pants, he found her compelling as she draped a long leg across him and settled into his lap. Without thinking, he reached for her, one lucky hand sliding beneath the shirt and homing in on the mellow globe of her breast. They both looked down, but Rissa spoke first.
“Guess you’re going to try to tell me that’s an accident.”
“No,” Dench looked innocent. “It’s just nature taking its course.”
She looked down, then back at him. “Then maybe I should get this big shirt out of nature’s way, huh?” She laid the razor on the counter and pulled the shirt over her head, letting it drop at Dench’s feet. “Think that will satisfy nature?”
“I hope so.”
’Cause it’s definitely working for me.
“Fair is fair.” Rissa’s fingers made quick work of the buttons of the shirt she pushed from his chest and shoulders. Not trusting himself, Dench sat still as she leaned into him, pressing herself close. Her breasts pillowed against his chest as she squeezed him. “I’ve missed this, my skin touching yours.”
Me, too.
“Dench?”
He stirred slightly, not wanting to surrender the moment.
“We need to finish.”
“You’re right.” His hands slipped beneath the band of the sweatpants, cupping her.
She squealed and pulled at his hands. “Don’t start something I’ll have to finish. I meant your head.” Her fingers traced the remains of his hairline, lingering near his ear before she reached back for the razor. “Remember?”
“Right.”
He settled for locking his hands behind her bare back as she completed her task. Blotting streaks of soap with her towel, she finished and leaned back to admire her work. Her eyes held him even when she twisted slightly to find the hand mirror. She held her breath when his fingers closed over hers on the mirror’s handle.
“It’s different.” Guiding her hand, he angled the looking glass and moved his head slowly for a full view. “Looks like you got it all.”
She nodded and watched him when she released the mirror’s handle. His eyes rose to the vanity mirror and he tilted his head. The hand mirror caught the sculptured curve of his head, and subtle light stroked his bare scalp. Satisfied with his inspection, he settled the mirror on the vanity. When his breath rolled smoothly against her cheek, Rissa began to breathe again.
“I like it,” he said.
“I’m glad.” Trusting him to bear her weight, she relaxed, her eyes finding his and agreeing with everything she saw there. He leaned toward her, his red-touched skin catching the afternoon sun and she met him halfway—giving as much as she took. He covered her neat hand with his own and felt their heat stamp his soul.
“I love you.” Her lashes fell against his cheek.
Still holding her hand, he nodded. “I know.”
Her hips moved against him and her fingers tightened on his. “I want to love you.”
“And I want you happy.”
“Then you need to take me to bed.”
“I can do that.” If he hadn’t been sitting, Dench would have fallen to his knees as quickly as the towels fell to the floor. A grateful man, he blessed everything he could think of. Scooping up his wife, he forced himself to walk with her in his arms when what he really wanted to do was whoop with triumph and take her right there on the bathroom floor.
But this was a new start and she’d asked for the bed. He could give her that.
Lowering her to their bed, he slipped her low on her back and found the drawstring holding the sweatpants and the tease of her bikini panties. Loving that her eyes stayed tight on his, he pulled the pants low, revealing the deliciously golden skin he craved. Dench quickly lost his clothes, and heard her moan as he framed her body with his own. Mindful of his promise, hungry and determined to save something for later, he lost focus when she traced the lines of his back, her long fingers memorizing him as much for comfort as seduction.
His mouth against the strong hot pulse of her throat tested restraint, not wanting to take too much too soon. Tasting her, filled with the sweet scent of her, he tangled his flesh with hers and slid deep. Her quick catch of breath answered as her back arched and her hips rose, straining to follow him. Filling her drove thought from him. There was no room for anything more than the heat, the need, and the fulfillment. He plunged deep, accepting all that she was, almost like being swallowed alive, and he heard her cry out as she fell with him.
Cool air on steamy skin led them to drift back, with Dench still buried deep within her. Rissa turned to her side, separating them. The corners of her mouth lifted when her husband’s warm arm fell across her. Spooned comfortably in their bed, his cheek pressed hers, Rissa curved her arms over his and enjoyed being satiated.
“It feels good to be us again, doesn’t it?” When Dench hummed assent, she smiled. “A new start is good for us. Everything is going to be fine from now on. Everything.”
Dench bent his head and kissed her shoulder. Rising on his elbow, he reached for the edge of the comforter and pulled it over them as Rissa’s fingers loosened their grip on his arm. Her breathing deepened as she drifted into sleep and rolling onto his back, he pulled her close. One hand went to his newly shaved head.
I hope you’re right, Rissa. I hope that this is our new beginning and not some kind of sucker bet, because I don’t bet on things I can’t win.
Chapter 8
Rissa watched the numbers change as the elevator rose. She was grateful to be riding alone and eyed the red emergency button on the panel beside the door.
I could push that button and stop the elevator, get off, and be back in my car before anybody knew the difference. I could be back at home and it would all be okay.
Her fingers itched to touch the button. Then she thought of Dench.
He would know the difference, and I promised…
But damn, when I promised our new beginning, I didn’t take all of this into consideration.
She raised her eyes to the console above the doors and read the numbers—
my floor is next
. Her stomach turned on itself and she looked longingly at the emergency button again.
The last three days were hard enough. I don’t know why I’m going in there to subject myself to this again.
A quick flash of frustration threatened to become anger as the elevator slowed.
I walk in there, and I know that it will start all over again.
Every time I think of how it was when I walked in there on Monday, I could just scream. You would think that since I helped build this agency, I could have a little privacy, but no, there they all were, so solicitous and busy. It’s a wonder I got anything done at all. And it was precious little, at that.
And Yvette is the worst. She needs to remember that she’s my partner, not my mother. I don’t know why she just insists on treating me like an invalid.
She shuddered and could almost hear her partner’s voice.
‘Honey, you look thin…Honey, are you all right? Honey, you just take it easy…’ That crap is going to make me lose my mind!
The elevator stopped.
Last chance.
Rissa stood there, still wanting to run, as the tall doors opened. Inhaling deeply, she stepped off and faced her office.
I can do this. I promised Dench and myself. I owe it to my clients to be here for them. I can do this, one day at a time.
She lifted her head and stood taller—didn’t her mother always say that if you acted like you knew what you were doing, nobody could ever prove different? Gripping her briefcase, she pushed her purse higher on her shoulder and pasted on a smile—they would all feel better if she smiled.
Pushing through the steel and glass doors of her office, she forced gaiety that she didn’t feel into her face, eyes and voice.
All I have to do is get past Karee and Yvette, and I’m in my office. Safe.
“Hey, superstar. You can take off the shades, we all know who you are.”
Damn, Yvette!
Turning with her smile ready, Rissa waited for her partner to stroll closer. Knowing that she was being inspected, she decided that the best defense really was a strong offense and popped the collar of her rose-colored silk shirt. “Don’t hate. You’re just wishing you looked as good in them as I do.”
“Huh, I wish I looked as good as you do in a lot of things.” Yvette scooped up a bundle of mail and waved it in front of her. “Those glasses may look good on you, but I’ll bet you can’t read all this mail through them.” She walked closer, her tapping heels marking her progress. “I know you needed some time, but do you ever plan to get all of this read? Believe me, it didn’t multiply like this just because it has a sex life.”
Façade dented, Rissa pulled the glasses off and jammed them into the pocket of her jacket. “Satisfied?” Blowing hard, she snatched the rubber-banded bundle, muttering. Flipping through a few of the pieces on top, she dropped random advertisements into Karee’s wastebasket and started toward her office with the rest of the mail tucked under her arm.
“Hey!” Yvette watched Rissa’s steps slow, and she waited for her to stop and turn. Propping a hand on her hip, Yvette didn’t hesitate to radiate attitude—it was expected. “If you’ve got something to say about me, be adult enough to say it to my face. If you have something to say to me, come to my office. But if you need me to listen, I’m always here—don’t forget that.”
“Yeah, sure.” Lips tight, Rissa turned and stepped into her office. Pushing the door closed, she pressed her back against it and closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding and sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip.
Made it, but I could have gone all year without Yvette throwing a pity party for me.
It’s not supposed to be this hard
, she told herself again.
Not liking the tremor that shuddered through her body, making her knees weak, Rissa pushed away from the door and headed to her desk. Draping her jacket over the back of her chair she sat with her briefcase and purse at her feet, grateful that she’d had the foresight to check the Weather Channel before returning to work.
Goodness knows how they would have treated me if I’d walked in here with a wool coat and suit on.
She edited the thought and turned her chair to look out over the Buckhead skyline.
The weather sure did turn quickly—coats, jackets, and gloves at the end of February,
and summer suits in the middle of April. Oh, well, that’s life in Atlanta
. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back in the chair, denying the cold lump of anguish rolling like an iced marble in her belly.
So much has happened, and in such a short time. I remember Dench asking if I wouldn’t rather have a kitten. No, I told him, I want a baby. Wonder if I would still have the kitten. But we’re making a new start…Let it go, Rissa, let it go…
She had no idea how long she sat like that, thinking and knowing that she had to move at some point. When her line buzzed, her jangled nerves pumped adrenaline through her body, making her jump. Realizing the source of the sound she hit the speaker button on the phone.
“Hey, Rissa. Mr. Clarence is here for his appointment.”
James Clarence? His appointment isn’t until…
Rissa’s eyes flew to the watch on her wrist.
Eleven-thirty? Where did the time go?
She turned her chair fully toward the desk and tried to sound normal. “Thanks, Karee. I’ll be right out.”
Haunted by her lost time, Rissa pulled her jacket on and pushed her briefcase and purse under her desk with her foot, and almost laughed at herself.
For a minute, I almost forgot what I was doing. He’s here to review the contract for his next fight.
She pulled the paperwork out of her desk and crossed the room to place it on the table between the red chairs. Looking over her shoulder, checking on herself, Rissa left her office and nearly ran over Yvette.
“Now look,” the feisty little woman began, “I’m going to need for you to watch where you’re going, put on a blinker, sound a horn, or something…” Her voice dropped and her eyes evaluated Rissa. “Are you all right? Honey, do you need me to take this for you? If…”
The concern in her voice sprinted along Rissa’s spine like fast flame on a fuse, setting her temper afire; the words that hissed past her lips when she turned on her partner surprised even her. “Let me tell you what I’m going to need: I’m going to need for you to stop creeping up on me, trying to treat me like an invalid—ever notice the spelling on that word? It’s the same as the word that means ‘not valid’, and there’s nothing wrong with me! When I need you to handle anything for me, I’ll let you know!”
“Rissa, I didn’t think…”
“Damned straight, you didn’t think. If you had, maybe you’d get out of my face and give me a minute to breathe. I don’t want or need your pity, Yvette. That’s my client out there, I’ll handle him. I don’t need you monitoring my mail, my clients, or my productivity. I’m a partner here. I helped build this agency. When I can’t hold up my end, you can buy me out. Until then, leave me the hell alone.”
Watching Rissa stalk away from her, Yvette finally released the breath she’d held, but her feet wouldn’t move—they couldn’t. Blinking, feeling almost as if she’d been slapped, she knew something was terribly wrong and she didn’t have a clue how to fix it.
At the other end of the corridor, Rissa’s fingers went to the wall when she paused for a moment. Feeling Yvette’s eyes on her back, she refused to look over her shoulder. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm herself and smoothed a hand over her gray pinstriped skirt and jacket. Satisfied that she at least looked peaceful, she rounded the corner and stepped into the lobby. Jimmy Clarence stood the second he saw her, and she smiled.
“Hey, Rissa, how are you doin’,” he drawled.
“How do I look?” She imitated his drawl.
“You look good.” He grinned. “Oh, and this is from Mama.” He offered a large white bakery box. “She said to tell you that she didn’t feel like making chicken soup, but a red velvet cake ought to make you and Dench feel better about everything.”
“Thank you.” Rissa had to force the weak smile to stay in place as she accepted the box. “I’ll have to call your mother to thank her. Come on back to the office.”
Leaving the cake on her desk, she sat with Jimmy and struggled to keep her lost child out of the conversation as they reviewed the contracts and the notes she’d gotten from his trainers. Together, they checked all of the caveats and she made the necessary amendments. When he approved the final condition, Rissa gathered all the sheets for reprinting.
“While Helen is finishing the contract for signatures, would you like coffee or something else to drink?”
“Nope.” The boxer leaned back into the depths of his red chair and grinned. “I don’t know if Sierra and I ever said thanks.”
“Thanks for what?”
“For setting me straight.” Jimmy flashed white teeth. “You and Dench both said that by the time the baby got here, my mother would be all right with my marrying Sierra.” His grin went sideways and the boxer looked like a twelve-year-old. “You were right, both of you.”
“That’s nice.”
“Mama’s so proud of this baby that she woke us up this morning with breakfast and then she baked that cake for you. She started an endowment for the baby last week, said she wanted the best for her first grandson. Then she said she hoped he was just the first of many.”
“Would I be out of line for saying, ‘I told you so,’ only because I did?” Rissa tried to ignore the boxed cake when she walked to the mini-fridge built into her wall of bookcases. She pulled out a cold bottle of water and twisted off the cap. “Sure you don’t want one?”
“No, thanks.” He held up a hand and shook his head. “Sierra saw the paperwork on that little policy Mama started, and I thought she was going to go into labor right then. She started crying and making plans…” His voice dropped, the words dying on his tongue. “Oh, damn Rissa…I’m so sorry.” He stood and walked to her, pleading his case. “Look…I didn’t mean to bring up any…uh…”
“It’s okay.” She turned the bottle up and gulped water until he turned away.
Etching the line of his brow with his forefinger, Jimmy looked lost. “Sierra told me that I should wait to see you, and I guess I should have. I mean, this can’t be a good time, with you all…vulnerable…and all.”
“I’m fine.”
Where does he get off, calling me vulnerable?
“We’re here for business, let’s just handle this and get it over with.” Rissa twisted the cap back on the empty bottle and moved toward her desk. Coding the phone, she hit the speaker and waited. “How much longer, Helen?”
“On the way.”
“Uh…I wanted to come and see you, but Sierra said we should send flowers and wait.” Jimmy blinked when Rissa’s chin dropped and she leaned against her desk. “We were both sorry when we heard.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
Helen tapped at the door and pushed it open without waiting for invitation. Rissa knew relief like she’d never experienced before. With whispered thanks, she took the contract copies from Helen and rushed Jimmy through their signing.
On the final page, Jimmy scrawled his name and laid the Mont Blanc pen aside. Standing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked lost. “I guess that’s it, then. I should be going.” He moved toward the door and pulled it open. Halfway through, he turned and looked at Rissa. “I just wanted to say…I…I’m sorry you lost the baby.”
“Me, too, Jimmy.”
Water filled her eyes and she never saw the door close as he left the office. The first determined tear broke free, fell and stained her blouse—after that crying became easy. Folding her arms on the desktop, she dropped her head and succumbed to fifteen minutes of heartsickness. She might have indulged in more, but for the buzz of her phone. Swiping at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, she sniffed before answering.
“Rissa, I have a call holding for you. It’s the attorney from BeaconGreen. Shall I put him through?”
Rissa knew her sigh carried over the phone and wished she could take it back. “No, Karee. Please take a number and I’ll call him later.” She disconnected the call and stared at the phone. Who knew, maybe she really would return the call. Reaching under the desk, she pulled her purse free. Digging for tissue and a mirror, she tried a little positive self talk, and gave up when she felt the tears well up again. She found the mirror and tissue but the phone rang before she could use them.
She saw that it was her personal line—family and friends only—and dropped her purse back under her desk. Not wanting to answer, she let it ring three times before relenting. Clutching the tissue and the shreds of her dignity, she picked up the phone.
“Rissa, hi!” Libby Belcher, Marlea’s former coach, was on the line and Rissa could have slapped herself for ever giving her the private number.
The last thing I need right now is overweening good cheer.
“Hi, Libby.”
“I’m in Phipps Plaza, right down the way from your office, and I thought I could take you to lunch…if you haven’t already eaten?”
“Oh…Libby…I…can’t make it today. You know how it is, just getting back to work and all, maybe another time.” Rissa closed her eyes and prayed that the lie would suffice.
“Well,” Libby drew the word long. “Maybe another time, then.”
“Yes. Another time, but thanks for the offer.” Rissa hung up the phone and looked at her watch. It was barely one o’clock on an endless day and all she’d accomplished was the signing of a contract and pissing her partner off.