Handful of Dreams (33 page)

They were both sleeping when Jud rapped on the door, grumbling that he was too old to stay awake all night. They both sprang up a bit guiltily and took Jud’s place before the fire while Jud fell asleep in Peter’s room.

It didn’t seem at all difficult to stay awake, though. There were still so many things to talk about. The fire blazed before them; Susan curled against his chest, and they sipped tea, occasionally silent, bursting into speech again when something would occur to one of them.

“Tell me everything about my father,” David urged her at one point. She hesitated but then said, “I met him through Harley Richmond. Carl was receiving treatment at the hospital, and I was always with him. Because of—or in spite of—my psychology background, I wound up working hospice, helping others there deal with their diseases, with death. I think I was able to help a number of people, but when it came to Carl … well, I fell apart at the end. Peter found me on the day Carl died, and the patient was suddenly the doctor. He was so gentle, David. It was quite a while before I discovered that he was one of Harley’s patients. Then he found out that I was a writer. He had read a number of S. C. de Chance’s sci-fis, and he broached the subject of making a fictional work out of his life. He was so delighted with the thought of it all! I wasn’t at all sure, but Peter convinced me that I needed to be away from the hospital, on the beach, working on my craft, as he put it. And he needed me, David. His love for you was very great; he certainly never meant to hurt you in any way….”

David stroked her hair over her forehead, his eyes not on hers but on the flames.

“How did he die?”

“We were south of here, out on a little fishing launch, as you know. His line was in the water, he was talking, and then suddenly he wasn’t. It was … very quick and peaceful, David. And a gift, really, because he never had to suffer through the final, painful stages.”

“Then I’m grateful,” he said very softly. He shook his head. “How on earth could I have thought—” He broke off, wincing, and Susan laughed, then very shyly told him about her one and only, very youthful affair.

David smiled tenderly down at her, stroking her cheek, then he chuckled. “Well, thank God, then, that you were deprived! I wouldn’t have managed to seduce you so easily if you’d been more experienced!”

“I thought I seduced you!”

“Maybe. Maybe you’d been dealing so long in fantasy on paper that you were able to create real magic,” he whispered.

Susan frowned suddenly. “David … what about Vickie Jameson?”

His gentle, reflexive smile caused her a moment’s pang of jealousy, but his words eased it away.

“Vickie is a lovely lady. She’s the one who sent me back to you—in a way.”

“Really? How?”

He laughed, playing with a lock of her hair. “She said that I was in love with you and asked me to leave so she could get her own life back on track.” He hesitated, then smiled. “She suggested that I tour with you.”

Susan laughed. “You lied! You said that no one else could go!”

“Vickie reminded me that I was the publisher, president, and majority stockholder. If I thought I was the best one to go, then I should!”

Susan made a mental note to send Vickie Jameson flowers and the nicest thank-you note she could manage to compose. Then she smiled, amazed with it all again, and threw her arms around David, kissing him heatedly. His hands slipped through the folds of her robe, caressing her bare flesh, stroking her breasts. But when the wonderful, silky heat of her form threatened to overwhelm his senses, he pulled away, reproachfully locking his arms around her, and returned her sedately to his lap.

“We’re supposed to be on guard duty!”

Susan grimaced. “He’s not coming back. It’s a miracle that you’re alive and well.”

“Mmm. But Jud did his stint—it’s our turn now.”

Susan smiled. It didn’t matter.

And in seconds she was asleep on his lap, which didn’t matter at all to David. He was pleased just to hold her, to listen to the roar of the weather outside and bask in the warmth of the parlor, in the warmth that held his heart.

Susan awoke because she heard people talking. She was alone on the sofa, and the fire had died down to embers.

Frowning, she straightened her robe, tossed back her hair, and hurried into the kitchen, flushing slightly as she saw that the small room was full. Jerry was there, Mindy, Carrie, Lawrence, and even Harley Richmond and his wife, as well as Sheriff Grodin and Jud, who apparently had decided that it was safe enough to shower and looked exceptionally dignified in one of Peter’s satin smoking jackets.

“Ah! The heroine has arisen!” Mindy cried with laughter, but she hugged Susan fiercely, and Susan, startled by the gesture, staggered back, only to be caught from behind by David, who stared down at her bemused look with amusement and affection.

“What…” Susan began, and then everyone was explaining that, of course, in a village the size of theirs everyone had been frantic, and as soon as the roads were cleared, they had all hurried out. Susan had slept through their arrival, but in the kitchen Jud had dramatically told them all about the night’s events.

Susan smiled, accepting a cup of tea from David, glad to nestle back against him again where he leaned against the counter. Susan lifted her cup to them all, thinking again that she was a very lucky woman. Not only was David standing behind her, but through Peter Lane and Harley she had acquired a host of caring friends.

“Actually,” Susan murmured, smiling ruefully, “I wasn’t a heroine at all. Jud and David are the heroes.”

“Oh! Heroines aren’t supposed to solve the thing!” Mindy teased. “They’re supposed to be saved—”

Susan laughed. “Trust me! I write the stuff! She should be strong! She should—”

“Actually,” David said, mocking her tone and breaking in as he tenderly nuzzled her ear, “heroes and heroines are supposed to survive together—trust me, I’m in the business.”

Everyone chuckled, but then the mood grew somber again as Sheriff Grodin informed her that Harry Bloggs’s body had been found about two miles south. Susan shivered; she wondered if she shouldn’t have felt something, some remorse for a life lost. She didn’t. She couldn’t help it, she just felt relieved.

Maybe she could feel something for the younger man he had surely once been. Things happened to people in a lifetime, things that touched their behavior—she knew that. She had studied behavioral sciences, and there were influences … as with David. Loving and being betrayed when he had been so very young. It had taken him so many years to learn to love and trust again.

She trembled a little, realizing that their pasts made the present so much more precious. They hadn’t said it aloud, but Susan knew that they were both aware that what they had was special. In the days and in all the years to come, they would value what they had.

Susan started as Mindy suddenly raced across the room to kiss her enthusiastically again. “Oh, how wonderful! Well, let’s get out of here, then, and let them get dressed and into town!”

She had been musing, and she hadn’t heard a word spoken. As everyone filed out of the beach house, kissing her, shaking hands, saying good-bye, she was still at a loss.

David stood back in the foyer, arms crossed over his chest, laughing as he watched her close the door.

“All right. All right!” she wailed. “So I wasn’t listening! I haven’t the faintest idea what’s going on!”

He smiled, enveloping her in his arms.

“I just invited them to the wedding. Three days from now in the chapel in the village. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? Why, not at all, Mr. Lane.”

“D
ON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?” RACE
shouted to the captain. “They were all shot by lasers! Captain, that means one of our own. A traitor on this very ship…”

Susan paused, her fingers over the typewriter keyboard as she heard the front door open. She smiled slowly. He had called to tell her he was running late, but he must have hurried, because he wasn’t very late at all.

He’d been disappointed, of course. It was a big night for them, the one-month anniversary of their marriage. They’d planned on dinner and show and dancing, but Susan had understood, and she hadn’t been terribly disappointed. Between the wedding and their two-week honeymoon in Hawaii—where the beach water was warm!—David hadn’t been giving Lane Publishing all that he should be giving.

And she didn’t mind at all that they weren’t going out. The February weather was bleak. Snow was falling, soft, delicate flakes that hit the skylights like magic. On the streets, the flakes would melt to slush. Here they remained magical, creating a night of Stardust above the huge bed.

“Susan?” David called from the entry of the penthouse apartment.

“In here!” she called back.

She lowered her head over the keyboard, smiling secretively. She was glad that they originally had been planning on a night out. She’d spent the afternoon in a perfumed bath, washed her hair, polished her fingernails, and literally dusted herself from head to toe in a new powder guaranteed to seduce. She felt very lazy and sensual … and sweetly aroused just by the sound of his voice.

He pushed open the bedroom door. His dark head was slightly damp from the snow; he’d shed his coat and appeared impeccable in a dark three-piece suit. He started to speak but paused, smiling as he leaned against the door for a moment, then slowly moved toward her. Was it in her eyes? she wondered. The invitation that had given him a demon’s pleased grin and sent him to her with such an assured sway?

She smiled, then gazed blankly back to her paper, her heart racing while he planted his arms around her, hands on the desk, and nuzzled her ear while he spoke.

“Working?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“
Traitor on Alpha Five?
”

“Mmm.” She twisted around to look at him. “You really don’t mind, do you, David? I love these things.”

He laughed. “You mean because it isn’t Lane? No, I don’t mind. I’m glad you like what you do. You shouldn’t do it otherwise. I still think you should try a murder-suspense. Bloggs was perfect material.”

Susan shivered. “I’m not up to Bloggs yet. Maybe in another few months.”

He tilted her chin to him, stroking her cheek. “It’s definitely all over with him, Susan.”

“I know.” She bit her lower lip, studying his face, finding that she was absurdly pleased with herself because of David. Because she loved everything about him so very much and he loved her. If only Peter could have known that this would be!

“What is it?” he murmured softly.

“Oh, I was just thinking about your dad.” She sighed. “He would have been so happy, David. He so wanted grandchildren. If only he had known.”

He tweaked her nose lightly. “Maybe he does know, Susan. I always thought of him as a really great fellow. If there is a heaven, that’s where he is. And maybe—just maybe—he does know.”

Susan caught his hand where it lay on her shoulder and kissed his palm. He stroked her throat softly with his thumb.

“Are you finished there?” he asked huskily.

“Just about.”

He was close behind her, lifting her hair to plant a kiss against the nape of her neck. She tried to fill in the last sentence but couldn’t. Laughter and a swift fire stilled her fingers as his hands cupped over her breasts, erotically teasing her nipples.

“David!”

“Just thought you might be on a sex scene. I wanted to give you a hand. I don’t mean to disturb you. It’s just that, after all—”

“You can’t write on memory forever, right?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m just about—”

“Uh-uh. You are done,” he told her. Her chair rasped back over the carpet, and she was laughing as he plucked her into his arms to deposit her on the bed beneath the skylights.

“David!” She meant to protest, but she was laughing too hard.

“Susan!” he said, accusing her back and recklessly shedding his jacket, kicking off his shoes, tugging at his tie, and tossing off his socks. “My dear Miss Anderson!” His vest landed on the floor, and he plunged to the bed beside her, working on the buttons of his shirt. “No wife awaits her husband so clad, or unclad as the case may be”—he fingered the gossamer material of her teal gown—“unless she wants to be disturbed!”

He was being atrociously slow with his buttons. Susan shifted to help him. Impatiently he ignored her efforts, cradling her cheek, kissing her lips, her forehead, her throat. His mouth moved lower, over the flimsy material, hot and moist through it. He caught her nipple lightly between his teeth, and the snow’s enchantment, high above them in the velvety night, seemed to touch her whole body.

She brought her fingertips to his hair, then clutched his shoulders.

“You’re definitely disturbing me,” she murmured.

He rested his head against her swelling abdomen for a minute. And for that moment his touch was infinitely tender. But then his eyes met hers, and they were dark with passion.

“Helping you,” he told her. He rolled to sit beside her, shedding his shirt quickly. He stood to rid himself of trousers and briefs. Susan smiled slowly, sensuously, lazily, alive in every sense as she awaited him.

“Helping me?” she murmured as he came back beside her.

“Research,” he assured her, nipping her earlobe.

“Oh!” She turned into his naked chest. “Well, I admit…”

“What?”

“Feet.”

“Feet?”

“I’ve always wanted to write something erotic about feet.”

“Oh.”

He kissed her instep, proving beyond a doubt that an instep could be a highly erogenous zone.

“How about ankles?” he asked.

“Ohhh … surely.”

“Kneecaps?”

“Hmmm.”

“Thighs … hips … intimate, intimate places …”

He asked her no more questions, and she could have given him no more answers. Snowflakes continued to fall against the skylight; warmth burned below it.

At long last they were aware of the sky again, aware of the snow that fell beyond.

“It’s another anniversary, you know,” he told her.

“Is it?” she murmured, languorous and sated.

“It was exactly a year ago today that you walked into my office and threw water all over me.”