More Than One Night (15 page)

The waiter arrived and halted conversation. Daniel immediately pulled out his card and placed it on the tiny tray with the bill, not even looking at the amount. "You have a lot of preconceived notions about men."

"Cause and effect, remember?" She wanted this night to be over. She'd been wrong. Daniel's larger-than-life presence was too much for her quiet and reclusive ways.

The waiter returned, and Daniel signed the check. "Ready to go?"

Mutely she nodded, ignoring the irritation oozing from every pore of his muscled and well-toned being. Not telling him was the right thing, she was sure. None of his business. She'd told no one her secret, certainly not her family. Once they knew…Once he knew…

The ride home transpired in silence. Several times she started to tell him. Her mouth opened and then closed, unable to find the right words to explain. Maybe more than words, it was fear that kept her from sharing. Fear that whatever they had would be over. Finally, they arrived back at her place after she'd endured the longest fifteen minutes of her life. For some unexplainable reason, her heart somersaulted in her chest when he followed her inside. He was staying.

Time to try to salvage this night. "Coming to bed? I know the cable channels suck, but I'm sure I can find some way to entertain you."

He kissed her cheek.

Not a good sign.

"I'm going to grab a pillow and crash on the couch tonight, if it's still alright I stay."

Her eyes blinked rapidly as her muscles tightened, requiring a concerted effort not to tremble in front of him. She didn't want him to leave. Even more so, she wanted him to stay. "Of course you can stay. Where else would you go?"
Please don't say home. Please don't say home!

Broad shoulders shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first night I've spent in a hotel."

She forced her voice to stay calm and even. "No need. You can stay here and," she reached out and put her hand tentatively over his heart, wanting…needing to touch him, "sleep wherever you're most comfortable. Besides, if you leave, you'll never know what kind of breakfast I'm capable of serving."

Focus became difficult as her eyes were drawn to his fingers, the same ones responsible for so much of her pleasure over the past twenty-four hours. Her hand dropped as she watched him unbutton his shirt. She swallowed hard when his six-pack came into view. Desire pulsed low in her abdomen as his pants followed, leaving only the black boxers. Images of his beautiful body moving over her flooded her mind, prompting her to squeeze her legs together a little tighter to ease the ache building at an unbearable level with each innocent—or not so innocent—movement.

He slid onto the couch, the long lines of his body decorating her cushions better than any pillow or throw she could purchase. "I'm most comfortable right here. Good night, Mel." His hand reached for the remote.

The longing and need in every feminine part she possessed demanded she try one more time. "Why won't you come to bed?"

His eyes locked on hers, the gaze flat and unemotional. "Cause and effect."

It wasn't even ten on a Friday night, and he was in bed. Hell, not even in bed. On a couch—a cold, lonely couch. It was his own damn fault. The woman of his dreams was flipping through the same channels not twenty feet away from him.
He adjusted the pillow for the tenth time since he'd sent Melodie away without so much as a proper good night kiss. She'd wanted more—a lot more. They always did. They wanted his body, his money, but not his heart.

He pounded the pillow for good measure. He believed, deep down, Melodie tipped the scales differently than other women. He wanted her to be different…needed her to be different. Muting the volume, he listened for sounds coming from her room. After a few minutes, the dramatic music indicated she'd tuned in to a chick flick.
Women!
It wasn't enough she kept her nose buried in a fictional world. She watched those same stories brought to life on the small screen. No wonder men had a hard time measuring up. Most, if not all, of the men in the books and on television were being written by women. Of course, they'd always say the right thing and get the girl in the end.

He heard the soft pads of her feet coming down the hall before he saw her. Seeing her in his T-shirt and boy shorts ignited all the nerves he'd been trying to calm over the last thirty minutes or so. She walked across the room until she was standing between him and the television. "Got a minute?" She turned and looked at the screen. "Unless you really want to see how the Hallmark movie ends."

Shifting to a sitting position, he grumbled. "I figured that's what you were watching and wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

Taking a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the couch, she reached over and clicked the off button on the remote. "I promise I'll tell you how it ends."

"I'd rather hear about you. You're so much better than make believe." He smiled, wanting to put her at ease. He, of all people, knew how hard it was to share something painful.

She clasped her hands and exhaled slowly. "I want you to know that I've not shared this with anyone else yet. You sharing your cell number with me meant something significant to you. My telling you this means something significant to me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized you deserved to know."

"Just tell me, Mel."

"I can't have children."

He heard her words the same moment he saw a couple tears break free and spill down her cheek. Though he wanted to close the distance between them to comfort her, he wanted to let her share what was weighing on her heart. More tears were glistening, waiting their turn. God, how he hated when women cried. "What do you mean?"

Her hands crossed over her stomach as the tears continued to fall. "I mean I'm physically unable to bear children. I've had female problems almost from the beginning, severe endometriosis. A side effect is infertility."

Screw the wait. She needed him now. He moved off the couch and knelt in front of her to wipe away the tears. She held his hand to her cheek. "I've tried everything that's safe, including any treatments whose side effects weren't worse than the disease. No success."

He pulled her closer and kissed her hair as he murmured words of comfort. "Shhh, don't cry. This is not the end of the world. I care about you. I want more than one night. Hell, I'm not sure a lifetime of one nights would be enough with you. We don't need any more children to be happy. Just you, me, and Annie. That's all we need."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you at dinner. I'm still trying to adjust to all of this myself."

Standing, he took her hand and pulled her body flush with his. Kissing her forehead, he put his arms around her and held her tight. "I get that. Once the dust settles and, if you want to talk about other options, we will. Just know, this isn't a deal breaker for me."

After several minutes, he heard her muffled voice. "You still want to sleep on the couch?"

He chuckled, swept her into his arms, and carried her toward the bedroom. "Hell no! That couch is lumpy."

Saturday

The smell of coffee brewing tempted his eyelids open. He checked his cell, eight o'clock. The last time he'd looked, the numbers indicated a little after four. Great, nowhere near the recommended eight hours. Of course, he couldn't remember getting eight hours sleep in a very long time. Even though he'd ended up snuggling with Melodie, all of the sharing he'd done of late, and the general turmoil in his life, resulted in nightmares plaguing his sleep. They'd been their worst right after the incident, but he'd managed to bury everything deep enough in his subconscious that the nightmares had been replaced by a general restlessness. Not great, but better than the alternative.

He sniffed the air for any signs of breakfast being cooked. Big breakfasts were a staple at his home growing up. No discernible traces of bacon, eggs, sausage, or even oatmeal. Time for a closer look. "Dressed up a lot for a Saturday morning breakfast, aren't you?" His eyes couldn't help but drink in the perfectly tailored brown pants and ivory silk blouse. When she turned toward him, coffee cup in hand, the jade gems captivated him once again. Would he ever lose interest in those amazing eyes?

"Dress code for work, business casual."

"You have to work today? It's Saturday." His eyes darted around the kitchen for any signs of breakfast, his stomach's rumbling becoming more pronounced with each passing minute.

"Libraries are open on Saturdays and kids are out of school. Perfect time for a children's librarian to be at work. It's only a half-day, so I'll be home in time to change and get ready for the party tonight at five. We'll need to leave around quarter to four as traffic going into the city can be a bear." She hesitated. "You're still planning on coming, right?"

Wanting to reassure her and feel those soft curves in his arms again, he moved next to her and removed her coffee cup, setting it down on the nearby table. He pulled her into a light embrace. "I said I'd be your date, and I will." He moved a wave of hair from her shoulder to expose her neck, placing a small kiss on the soft curve. The familiar lilac infused his senses, and he would forever associate this scent with the one-of-a-kind woman he now held. "You have my cell number," he murmured against her skin. "It means something."

She turned in the embrace, her lips finding his. He loved the feel of satin against his skin. The sensation was almost as pleasant as when their naked bodies were pressed together in the throes of passion—almost. She felt so right in his arms, more so than any other woman. His hands slid lower to cup her perfectly rounded bottom. He wanted her to feel, with no room for misunderstanding, the effect she had on him.

An insistent buzzing pulled her warmth away from him. Damn cell phones. This time, however, hers was the culprit.

"Hello, Mother."

He grinned as she rolled her eyes and moved away from him. "Yes, I'm going to be there tonight."

She opened the pantry and pulled out a box of glazed donuts, setting them in front of him. "No, that won't be necessary. I'm bringing a date."

This was her idea of breakfast? A box of glazed donuts? He might be able to make allowances for all of the baggage they both were bringing into this relationship, but this was bullshit. He opened the box of donuts and put one on the paper plate she'd set out for him before the coffee roused him from sleep.

"Yes, Mother. I know. I'll be sure and bring a proper gift. Yes…good-bye."

As soon as she disconnected, he lifted the donut. "This is your idea of breakfast?"

He forgot about food the moment her lips seared his, branding him with a kiss requiring a cold shower the moment she left for work.

"Yes, I'm a terrible cook. Now you know at least one more of my secrets." She smiled and cupped his cheek, her hand caressing the stubble. "I'll do some research on the cooking issue, but you'll have to be patient with me."

"Patience is my middle name." He kissed her, grateful they'd been able to work through another obstacle on their path to happiness.
Undeserved happiness…
He smiled and patted her on her perfectly rounded bottom. "Now go to work, and tonight we'll be the talk of the party."

"Thank you." She grabbed her travel mug and slipped a donut into a sandwich-size plastic bag.

He smiled at her retreating form, admiring the slight sway of her hips. She truly had no idea the level of sexy she delivered with each step.

"We'll work on the cooking thing!"

*   *   *

The four hours required of her on a Saturday generally passed by with speed and fun. Today, each minute dragged its feet through deep, wet sand, making each hour elapse slower than a millennia. Equally excited and apprehensive about tonight, the thought of Daniel at her side calmed her. Despite his being an emotional roller coaster, his physical presence grounded her. She hadn't even read more than a few pages in a book after the first days with him. Could his presence in her life mean she no longer wanted to escape reality or at least not for the same reasons?

The first big test in their relationship, a party with her family, would serve as a critical proving ground. If he survived the meal intact and didn't catch the first plane out of O'Hare, maybe they might have a future.

She stepped through the doorway, happiness surrounding her in a comforting blanket. "Honey, I'm home." The singsong nature of her voice was certain to elicit a response from Daniel.

Silence.

"Daniel?" She listened for sounds from the back of the apartment. Nothing. Her eyes darted about the small square footage for evidence of his presence. The pounding in her heart shot off a rapid fire of "I told you so" warnings, even as she made her way to the bedroom.

"Unbelievable." She hurried back to the kitchen, moving the stacks of mail, magazines, and other clutter. No Daniel. No note. Nothing. How could she have been so wrong?

He'd left—without a trace—without a note—without a "thanks for the memories." This screamed low, even for him. Maybe all the secrets they'd shared had been too much. Maybe she really hadn't gotten through to him and convinced him he deserved happiness. Maybe she was destined to lose in the game of love.

His cell number!

Maybe something had happened—something preventing him from keeping his promise. She retrieved her cell. No texts. No voice mails. With shaking fingers, she located his number and initiated the call. Straight to voice mail. "Daniel, its Melodie. I arrived home from work and you're… I hope everything is okay. I'm sure there's a really good explanation for you being a no-show again. I hope…just call me, okay?"
Hope he hasn't broken my heart
.

A litany of reminders paraded through her head, primarily from the women in her family about her inability to pick the right man. Her phone rang. She almost dropped it as she checked the caller ID, unwilling to admit even to herself how much she wanted it to be Daniel calling to explain his bizarre disappearing act.