For Eric's Sake (7 page)

Although Brandy had lived in the apartment for a short time, she was sorry to leave it. It held a few good memories, and she'd miss her house neighbor who had added so extensively to her store of house plants.

Then, there was the evening that Carl had told her he loved her. It was a poignant scene, still vivid and bittersweet because it was the first time a man had professed love for her. She had almost wanted to tell him she loved him, too, but she hadn't.

Perhaps love was just not meant to happen to her. Her marriage to Shaw would certainly postpone it for a long time. She felt suddenly as trapped as Shaw must be feeling.

Two cartons edged their way through the doorway, followed by Eric and a yapping Pepper, who raced up to Brandy for the customary pat on the head.

"She has more if we need them," Shaw announced, sliding the boxes across the countertop in the kitchen. "Need any help with your packing?"

"Will those boxes fit in your car?"

"No." Shaw started stacking dishes into the nearest one. "I'll have to rent or borrow a truck."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't keep apologizing." He clattered the crockery in his haste. "It's not going to help now."

"What did you tell her?" she asked.

"Who? Your landlady?" He looked up just in time to catch her nod. "The truth—that you swept me off my feet, and in a fit of mental incapacity married me, and we're going to live happily ever after at my place… at least until the divorce."

"You didn't tell her that, did you?"

"Of course not, but I should have. She's a nice lady… very upset at your sudden move."

Brandy sighed. "I guess I realized she would be. I'll talk to her when we come back."

"I took the liberty of assuring her you would. I told her, in fact, that you were so upset at the idea of leaving such a fine home and landlady that you sent me over tonight for the boxes."

He could charm the skin off a snake if he put his mind to it
, thought Brandy. How in the world had she ever managed to get him married to her? "Thank you," she whispered. "I do feel that way."

"I know," he muttered, and Brandy realized that the compassion she had glimpsed was showing its head again. He was a man who cared about people. She only hoped he could come to care enough about her and Eric. She also hoped he didn't care too much to let her sleep alone tonight.

The return drive seemed to take forever, and it didn't help matters when tubfuls of rain poured down from the sky. Shaw slowed the car to a crawl, straining to see the flooded streets between each brief swipe of the wipers.

"This weather is fit for Noah and the ark, not automobiles," Shaw muttered, the strain of driving showing in his white knuckles against the wheel and his intent concentration on the fogging windshield.

"I'm sorry I made you come out in this kind of weather," Brandy apologized, leaning forward as if she could help him drive by watching the road ahead. She was nervous enough dreading their arrival back at the apartment, not needing this delay of the expected confrontation.

"It's not your fault," he mumbled, then swore as a car in another lane splashed a blinding sheet of spray onto the car's hood. "You may be able to control some impossible feats, but the weather isn't one of them."

"What do you mean?" Brandy glanced briefly at him.

"I mean this marriage of ours." He shook his head. "I'm still not sure how you managed that."

She didn't answer immediately, and when she did, Shaw could barely hear her. "If it makes you feel any better, the shock of it is setting in with me, too."

Shaw didn't respond to that, so Brandy continued. "I suppose what I did is akin to people who develop extraordinary strengths when they're in trouble. You know, to lift cars and push impossible objects out of the way… sort of like a miracle."

"I wouldn't exactly describe our marriage in that light," Shaw retorted.

Brandy was afraid to ask how he would describe it, sure it would be unfit for Eric's ears, even though the boy was asleep between them on the front seat.

Last night, her wedding night, she had wondered how she would manage to survive. Tonight seemed worse. Tonight, Shaw was sober. There was nothing to stand between them but a sleeping six-year-old.

"I'm afraid this is as close as I can get to the building." Shaw drew the car up to the nearest curb.

"You'll get drenched." Brandy's eyes were wide with concern as Shaw waited for her to open the door and run with Eric to the lobby.

"It won't be the first time," he smiled, "and it will probably match my mood."

"Oh, well, thank you." She blushed, reaching behind the seat to pick up some of her belongings.

"Leave those." Shaw put his hand on her arm. "I'll get them later, if this lets up. You won't be needing too much anyway, not if last night was any indication."

She didn't think her face could turn any redder, but she felt it turn three degrees warmer. "Last night was the exception," she retorted. "Tonight, if I wore everything that's piled on the back seat of this car, it wouldn't be too much." She grabbed a handful of hangered clothes and was preparing to pull them over the front seat and out the door with her when his strong hand stopped her.

"Leave it, I said. I'll get it later."

Brandy glared at him, but could not bring herself to openly defy him after the look with which he challenged her. "Eric." She shook his shoulder. "Wake up. We have to run through the rain to the building. Are you awake, honey?"

He yawned and nodded.

"Take my hand, and run when I open the door." She smiled, hoping he would think this was a game. What a welcome to their new home—a mad dash through the downpour.

"Ready?" Shaw took up the spirit of a game, grinning, setting them on their mark and counting them down before he leaned across Brandy, deliberately holding his arm against her breasts just ever so much longer than necessary before shouting, "go," and flinging open their door.

Eric dashed in front of Brandy and splashed through the puddles to the door. Brandy, trying to hold up the hems of her velvet pants and knowing they would never be the same again, was blinded by her curly hair plastered to her face. One minute she was skipping across a wide depression in the sidewalk, and the next she was sprawled over it in an ungraceful heap with a sore rump.

"Brandy!" Shaw was shouting in her ear. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know." She caught her breath wondering how he could have gotten out of the car and to her side so quickly. "You've left the car door wide open."

"Damn the car door!" He bent over her, protecting her as much as he could from the rain with his body. "Can you move? Can you get up?"

"I think so. I hope so."
Oh, how embarrassing
, was her first thought. Then she wondered if this wasn't actually a lucky move. A man like Shaw would not want to make love to a hunchback, would he? "Oh," she moaned, "I ache all over."

"Have you broken anything?" he persisted, helping her stretch.

Eric held the door wide while Shaw carried Brandy through and deposited her on the nearest chair. He knelt in front of her and pushed her stringy hair out of her face. "Are you all right?"

"Most of me is." Her lips quivered on the verge of a smile to reassure him, but not enough to set his mind completely at ease. "It's just not too comfortable sitting down." She rubbed her shoulder. "Or moving."

"I'd better call a doctor."

"No, Shaw, that won't be necessary. Really, I'm probably just bruised… oh," she groaned.

"Where does it hurt?" he responded to her agonized moan.

"I just thought, a bruise is going to look terrific with a swimsuit."

"That we'll discuss later," he scowled. "Can I get you anything right now? Water? Aspirin?"

"I've had enough water, thank you, but an aspirin would be ambrosia. I can wait until we get to the apartment." She struggled to stand.

"Sit right back down there, lady." His hands forced her shoulder down.

"Ouch, that hurts." She twisted to look at her shoulder exposed by the torn seam of her sleeve. "Just a graze though, don't you think?"

"Nothing feels broken," he said, and gently probed her shoulder.

"Your car door's still open." She glanced through the door. "You've probably left the keys in the ignition. Anyone could steal the car."

"They'd be welcome to it at the moment." His eyes never left her. "But if you promise not to budge an inch, and I mean an inch, lady, I'll go finish parking the car and come back to take you upstairs."

"I'll stay put." Her eyes were wide with surprise that he should be so concerned about her. "I promise."

"I've heard you keep promises, at least for Eric," he commented. "I hope you will for me as well."

"Promises are very serious business with me," she answered.

"If I didn't know better," he stood up, hands on his hips, eyes puzzled as he stared at her, "I'd think you were enjoying this."

She frowned at him. "It did hurt. I mean, it still does, too." She added to herself, it might just be the excuse she needed to stay out of his bed. At least for another night. "You'd better go move your car."

"You stay put." He pointed his finger at her, then stood Eric in front of her. "Make sure she doesn't move, okay?"

Brandy had to admit her helplessness appeared more convincing with Shaw carrying her up to the apartment. Her heart was aching more, though, from the nearness of his body than from her bruises. He was soaked as she was, and where his arm contacted her back, cradling her against him, she felt absolutely naked. She permitted herself to groan for the sake of her appearance.

"Hang on." He hurried along the corridor, concerned with her recurring sounds of discomfort. "We're almost there. Try not to faint."

"I'm not going to faint."

"Good," he snapped. "Because you're heavy enough as it is without being a dead weight if you faint."

"Oh," she moaned again.

"Where does it hurt now?" He tried to juggle her and insert the key in the door at the same time.

"OW!" she complained genuinely this time as he swung around and her elbow slammed into the doorjamb. "You don't have to sling me about as if I were a sack of potatoes. I'd rather lie in a heap on your doorstep than be bashed to death against the walls."

"Sorry, but I'm not used to carrying people over my threshold. The instructions weren't included with my little black book. And how they managed the key in the lock with the girl in their arms in all those old movies I'll never know."

"Obviously," sarcasm edged her voice, "with someone as heavy as I am, especially for such a strong man as yourself, it probably took the aid of a winch."

"More than likely," he finally managed to kick the door wider with Eric's help turning the key in the lock, "those Don Juans carried wenches with them."

"Don't get any ideas with me, Shaw Janus," she pouted at his pun.

"Ideas?" He laughed as if he were the villain in an old and very bad movie. "That's all I've had since I married you, wife… and I would guess similar thoughts have been circulating in your mind." Brandy gasped, but he quieted her with his next remark. "You even managed to get me to carry you over the threshold. You're turning me into a traditionalist!"