Sparring Partners (32 page)

Reed looked at her watch, looked back at
him, and raised her eyebrows like Groucho Marx. She looked
ridiculous, endearing, and absolutely wonderful. "Wanna fool
around? We've got time. I even prepped the bed."

Reed started unbuttoning her cap sleeve
blouse, smiling in that way women of every age and culture smile
just before they open their bodies, their minds, their hearts and
their souls to their lover. No man on the planet was immune to that
smile, certainly not Jordon, who wanted nothing more at that moment
but to lose himself inside Reed until the obligations of being
Jordon Bennett fell away, if only for a while.

Jordon pulled her to him and kissed her. It
was enough simply to hold her semi-nude body against him for
awhile, smelling her hair, feeling her heartbeat against his
chest.

"Say it again."

He didn't pretend to misunderstand her. What
was the point? He loved her now, he feared he always would.

"I love you, Elf. You bring magic to my
life. You make me believe things can be different– life can be
different."

He didn't have any answers for the
questioning look in her eyes, so he kissed her again before she
could give them voice. He undressed her and himself without words
and made love to her, looking into her eyes, willing her to
understand the depth of his emotions and to forgive him for what
he'd have to do in the near future to save the life he'd spent his
adulthood building.

In the days and years that followed, Jordon
would often wonder if he lost himself that afternoon, or if that
was the day that marked his rebirth.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Someone needed to stay home and make sure
Potters Woods ran smoothly while the others were gone, at least
that's the story Finn gave Reed for abandoning her. Since there
wasn't any programming after Thursday evening, all of Potters
Woods' clients spent their Fridays at the Wellness Center in
Burlington. Weekend programming was only for on-site residents, and
with Irma in the hospital, there weren't any on-site residents.
Finn could have gone, she just didn't want to, and Reed didn't push
the issue.

Finn needed some time alone to figure out
what she was going to do about Henry. He was making her crazy.

She hadn't seen him since she threatened to
put her nymph statue of him out by the mailbox, and for that she
was grateful. And pissed. Was he hiding, or just avoiding her?
Since she wasn't sleeping with him, she didn't ever see him.
Unfortunately, she wasn't sleeping without him either, at least not
very well, and that irked her. In every relationship she'd had
since taking Reed in, she'd dictated the rules. She decided when
and where to meet. She decided when and where to have sex. She
decided when it was over.

Henry gave her everything she told him she
wanted and nothing more. He never said what he wanted, and he
didn't push. She should have been happy. Instead she was tired,
grumpy, horny as hell, and all her art looked like him.

Finn held up the clay phallus she'd been
working on all afternoon, eyeing it with an artist's eye for
detail. It was the right length and thickness, she'd even gotten
the slight curve correct, as well as the vein structure and the
texture of the head. She added a small mole at the base as a
finishing touch.

Finn started out with the intention of
carving a leprechaun post, something along the lines of a miniature
totem pole she'd read about in the Celtic faerie tale book Charlie
gave her for Christmas last year. What she wound up with was a
giant cock.

A life sized replica of Henry's giant cock,
to be exact.

"I hope you're not planning on putting that
by the mailbox."

Finn whipped around, clay cock clasped
firmly in her hand like a weapon.

"Whoa." Henry said raising both hands
staying where he was just inside her workshop. "Careful where you
aim that thing."

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?"

"You're supposed to be in Lake Geneva with
Reed and Jordon."

Henry lowered his hands and up came the
phallus, aiming at him again. His eyes narrowed as he seemed to
recognize that this wasn't a generic model, but specific to him.
The damned mole probably gave it away, Finn thought, but he was
bound to figure it out by the size.

"William has his entire team looking out for
them. He doesn't need me too. Besides, I sent a new employee to get
his feet wet on this one." Henry took a step forward, then another,
and before Finn new what was happening, he had the clay in his
hand.

Awe, more than anger flashed across his face
as he examined it, turning it as he scrutinized every detail. Heat
flared through Finn from her toes to her nose and stayed there
warming her face uncomfortably. She glanced back at her work table,
looking for the mallet she used to pound clay. It was nowhere in
sight.

When Finn looked back at Henry, he was
scrutinizing her as he'd just done with the clay, like he was
trying to find some deeper meaning in both.

"Don't read more into it than what is there,
Henry."

Curiosity turned briefly to disappointment
on his handsome face and then was gone. Only his river-rock eyes
hinted that he was disappointed in her response. "Seems to me
you're reading a hell of a lot less than you should be."

Finn ignored that. "Why aren't you with
Jordon?"

"I told you, because I don't need to
be."

"Why are you here?"

"I want to be."

Henry reached around Finn and put her newest
creation on the table behind her. He didn't touch her but he came
close enough that she felt his heat. Hell, she could have felt it
five feet away. Henry had a way of binding her to him with
invisible waves of silken desire, soft like raw silk and equally as
strong. Finn shook away the image and tried to shut out how good he
smelled. Like cut grass, soap and Henry. That scent burned its way
so deeply into her psyche it wasn't ever coming out.

Freya came bounding in through the open door
and wound herself around Henry's legs. He hadn't moved back, so all
Finn had to do was bend down slightly to stroke her purring
pet.

"Where have you been, girl? I haven't seen
you in days."

"She's been sleeping with me." Henry said,
picking up her giant cat. Freya wound herself around his neck,
purring even louder.

Traitor.

"She doesn't like to be held."

"Really?" Henry rubbed Freya's ears with one
hand and nuzzled her head with his jaw, all the while grinning at
Finn, eyes laughing. "Are we talking about the cat, or you? Because
if we're talking about you, I remember exactly how much you like to
be touched. Especially here."

Henry ran one finger around her ear, down
the side of her neck and across her jugular vein to the hollow at
the base of her throat where she dotted perfume every morning after
her shower. The touch was butterfly soft. Finn felt it in the
marrow of her bones.

Two sets of eyes monitored her reaction.
Henry's pale green and gray gaze, taking in every flutter of her
skin, the escalation of her heartbeat, and the flaring of her
nostrils that she couldn't control, and Freya's sleepy amber eyes,
willing her to let go and cross to the dark side where purring your
pleasure is allowed, anticipated, and amazingly satisfying.

When she didn't turn into a puddle of feline
mush, Freya looked away disdainfully, as if to say, 'stupid human
why else are you here'?

Maybe her cat had a point, but it wasn't one
Finn was ready to concede just yet. She was here for more than
holding and being held, for more than loving and being loved, she
was here for...well...art. She glanced at her most recent artistic
achievement. Well, maybe modeling clay wasn't her higher
purpose.

"Why aren't you at the lake? You're missing
some great sailing, and Thorson makes one hell of a cherries
jubilee whenever William's present for dessert."

"I wanted to be alone."

"Why?"

"I need to think."

"About what?"

Freya must have gotten bored with all the
talk because she jumped down and scampered out the door.

"Things. Why do you care?"

"Why do you think?"

"You are impossible to talk to."

Henry cupped her face in his hands. "Then
let's not talk." Henry bent to kiss her but Finn turned away. He
didn't try to hold her, he took a step back in fact, giving her
space and the opportunity to think without being surrounded by his
heat, his scent.

"Why are you alone in your workshop, Finn?
You haven't slept in days. What's going on in that beautiful head
of yours that has you pacing at all hours of the night."

Finn didn't even ask how he knew that. Maybe
he was guessing, but one look at the dark circles under her eyes
and anyone could tell she wasn't sleeping, you didn't need to be a
master of surveillance to see it.

She looked at Henry, neither affirming nor
denying, choosing instead to say nothing. She clenched her teeth
and raised her jaw, daring him to continue seeking answers to
questions he had no business asking.

"What's bothering you?"

"You mean besides you?"

Henry smiled, a slow curving of his lips
without teeth, but then, he didn't need full wattage to be
devastating.

"Now we're getting somewhere. Tell me,
sweetheart. What am I doing that's got you up nights and locked in
here creating porn all day?" His tone was light, soft, and
seductive even as the truth of his words cut through her with the
ease of a samurai blade.

Finn strove for anger. Unfortunately all she
could muster was the frustration that had been choking her since
she realized Henry was different, all of ten seconds into meeting
the man.

"First you're here. Then you're not. You
want me, then you're gone. You tell me to give up Peter and all
other lovers, and then you decide to sleep alone. You're living in
my house and I feel like a stranger everywhere but here." Finn felt
the wetness on her cheek, but she refused to wipe it away or even
acknowledge that it belonged to her. "And now, even my workshop
reminds me of you."

Henry let her ramble, and when she finished,
he let her sit for a moment. He didn't try to touch her again, but
he did grab the bench seat she used from the kitchen. He sat across
from her close enough to touch but far enough away so he couldn't
be accused of looming, a hard thing to accomplish given his size
and how short the bench was. He didn't say anything, sitting
patiently, until she looked at him.

"This, this thing between us, has never been
about what I want. I've known what I wanted since you slew me with
those blue-jean eyes of yours. I've done what you've asked, what
you said you wanted, even when I knew that what you said you wanted
and what you really needed were two different things. I've walked
away against my better judgment because you asked me to."

Henry risked taking her hand, Finn let
him.

"I'm not walking away anymore. You are a
stubborn, creative, pain-in-the-ass when you want to be and
unwavering in your love of your family. I know who you are, Finn,
and I love you. I want to be a part of your life. I want to be a
member of your family. I want to be one of the people you'd do
anything for because you love them. I want you."

Finn began to panic. She was having
difficulty pulling air into her lungs and the little bit she did
take in didn't seem to make its way past her throat. She started to
pull her hand away, but Henry held tight. Her eyes met his. He
looked so certain, so sure in what he wanted, so at peace with what
he was saying. What was he saying? Was he looking for forever? Holy
crap, forever to her meant adopting a cat.

"You're afraid?"

Finn pulled at her hand again. He kept it.
"Just what is it you're afraid of?"

There's the rub. Finn had no way of
isolating the fear coursing through her veins into separate,
definable answers. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat,
briefly closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to slow so she could
get them out without sounding like an idiot.

"You. You scare the hell out of me."

Henry immediately opened his fist, releasing
her hand if she wanted it back. Finn let it sit in his palm. He
looked surprised and maybe a little hurt by her statement. She
wrapped her fingers around the side of his hand where it rested
next to his knee.
So much for not sounding like an
idiot.

"I don't want you to leave, Henry, and that
scares me. I think about you all the time. It's bled into my work,
as you can see." Finn smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Henry
didn't return her smile. He just sat there watching her, taking in
every sound, every movement she made, his intensity palpable even
though she had no clue what he was thinking. Her heart kicked
painfully in her chest.

"This is my home. I've given everything I've
got to Potters Woods. It's my life. And now I can't think about any
of it without you. I never wanted to share this part of me."

"And that scares you?"

"Damn right it scares me."

"Why?"

"Because I'll have nowhere to run to when
you leave."

"Did I say anything to make you believe I'm
leaving."

Finn shrugged. "People leave. They don't
always telegraph when they're going."

Henry closed his eyes, slumped his shoulders
and expelled an audible breath. He sat there a moment, quietly, not
looking at her. Finn had no idea what was going through his mind,
whether he was silently laughing, crying or getting ready to bolt.
She was willing to bet it wasn't number two.

"I'm a traditional man. You may not know
that about me, because of this crazy job I have, but deep down, or
not so deep down if you're looking, I am a small town kid with
small town ideas of how things should be done. Do you trust me on
this, Finn?"