Stirred (16 page)

Picturing Robbie in his wheelchair brought Hayley front and center, and with her, the second time I’d felt the burn of loss and betrayal. Thinking about what she’d done to me, to my family, made that rock on my chest burn hotter. Blazing. Scorching. Like it burned clear through my sternum, searing a blistering crater in my heart, wide and deep and terrifyingly unfillable. Feeling the emptiness of that pain brought back every ugly memory, and I gasped for air, suddenly desperate to stop the damage, to find something to fill the void.

An intense need ignited inside me, shifting my focus from what I had little control over and could not change, to the one thing I did and
needed
to change.

“Eden,” I whispered on a ragged breath.

I needed her. Craved her—the fire in her eyes, the wonder in her touch, and, most especially, her vulnerability, her hunger to be wanted, to be loved. She’d become a drug to me, heady and wondrous. My blood ached for a fix. And with my ace in the hole, I knew what I had to do to get it. To make her mine.

The last week had been both a nightmare and—if I was being completely honest with myself—an amazing dream come true, one I never even knew I wanted. When I first discovered Declan and Aurelia, I had no idea what my next move should be. I couldn’t even figure out what I was feeling. But then Daniel had swept in and aroused something in me, inflaming a long-dormant desire and igniting unexpected fantasies. If only they’d remained that way—fantasies—but Daniel had hunted me down, showed me I wasn’t the Ice Queen Declan always accused me of being. He’d awakened a need deep inside me, to be wanted, to be desired, to be touched and taken with complete abandon, caring not one whit of the consequences.

He’d turned me on like a light then disabled the switch to turn me back off. I was now a quivering live wire, arcing as my stormy emotions tossed me to and fro. I was at complete odds with myself. I felt guilt for breaking my marriage vows, disgrace at doing it so wantonly, in an alley without so much as a condom, and ashamed for treating Daniel so callously afterwards. But, as he’d accused me earlier, I was simply deflecting from the obvious, from something I hardly wanted to recognize, let alone accept. But I couldn’t deny it, how I’d changed. How
he’d
changed me, invading every last cell.

When I slept, I dreamt of him, of his hands and those extraordinary fingers, how skilled they were at caressing my most sensitive places, exciting me in the most shocking yet pleasurable ways, winding me so tight, I thought surely I’d spin out of control, high into the sky, up to the stars, so close to the sun, I feared I might burst into flame.

I recalled how generous a lover Jacob had been, more concerned with my pleasure than his own, but even he couldn’t compare with Daniel and those magical hands. And his cock… Dear God, I’d never seen anything like it, the inward curving, as if designed by a woman solely for her pleasure, and then there was the sheer size of it. I’d been terrified at first, scared there’d more pain than pleasure. But, sweet Jesus, once he’d worked his way all the way in, my toes curled, and I could practically hear the angels sing. With a driving madness, he urged me to my outermost limits, teased me inch by inch toward climax, closer and closer, a mere breath away. Then he pulled back, just enough to prolong it, over and over and over again.

Burning with the memories, I touched my cool hands to my cheeks and felt the heat there, like a fever. I felt positively mad from it. But that was nothing compared to what I felt inside, between my legs, within my core.

“Ugh, this is pointless. I have to stop!” I said to myself. “Refocus, immerse myself back into my work. I have to reclaim my life. Get back into a routine.”

How long had it been since I’d greeted parents as they returned to school to pick up their kids in the afternoon? I’d always loved standing out front of my Montessori pre-school, hugging the little ones goodbye before opening their parent’s car door and tucking them into their boosters and car seats. I needed to reconnect with my young charges and their parents. I’d always prided myself on the personal touch I’d taken with each child, all forty kids, every year for the last decade and a half. I knew them each by name, as well as their parents. I’d seen kids come and go, some returning years later to check in and chat, share their fond memories, or bring me a small gift.

While it had stung to give up on my dream of writing, I’d been practical enough to move on and never regretted focusing on my school instead. I knew, if I were ever inspired, I could always write on the side, in the evenings and on weekends. And that was exactly what I did.

During the last year or so, I’d worked hard to keep my two professional lives compartmentalized. I’d published under my maiden name, which only a small handful of people knew, and even fewer who knew I’d published at all. My biggest fear was the parents of my students finding out that I, the owner and director of the most exclusive Montessori school in Medina, had written not just a romance novel, but an erotic one. If they did, my reputation would be destroyed, plain and simple. Foolishly, I hadn’t considered the possible impact until well after publishing. Declan—ambivalent about my writing career—had simply waved my concerns away, but I knew there were many in this community who wouldn’t think twice about using it as ammunition if the opportunity should ever arise.

Meydenbauer Academy received occasional, though generous, funding from the Medina Preschool Association, mostly for the fine arts. There’d be a backlash of unimaginable proportions should they ever discover my double life, which is why I rarely agreed to public signings, and certainly never on the Eastside. And also why I’d cut back on socializing with the kids and their parents at the beginning and end of the school day. Out of sight, out of mind, and as long as the school was running smoothly, I was okay with that, or at least I
used
to be. But now I was thinking I’d lost touch with the very people who’d always kept me grounded these last fifteen years. I hated that and vowed to change it. I just had to be more diligent than ever to keep my two lives separate.

“You can do this,” I said to myself then stood from my desk overlooking Meydenbauer Bay, the stunningly beautiful part of Lake Washington for which my school was named.

I straightened my black pencil skirt and white silk blouse then adjusted the low-set jeweled barrette holding back my long hair, and, with one last glance in the mirror, I opened my office door and walked the long hallway to the main entry. As I hurried along, my heels clacking against the colorful vinyl tile, I glanced at my watch.

“One minute. Okay, here we go,” I said aloud, then took a deep breath.

Not thirty seconds later did the first bell ring with one short pulse and the classroom doors opened, a teacher standing in each doorway with her hand raised for silence. After another minute, the second bell rang, this one longer, signaling the teachers to lead their charges to the front doors and covered portico at the head of the large circle drive where a caravan of cars was parked curbside, waiting for the children. A small contingent of parent volunteers helped get the kids into the right vehicles and keep the traffic moving along smoothly.

“Bye, Mrs. Ross,” said one child after another, a few offering me hugs around my thighs before I escorted them to the appropriate car.

With just forty students and eight parent volunteers, the task usually took less than ten minutes. A few stragglers zipped into the drive, opening their windows for a quick apology for being late, until only two children were left.

I stooped down to eye level with one boy and asked, “Where’s your mom, sweetie? Should we call her?”

The boy shook his head, smiled brightly, and said, “No, Mrs. Ross. She’s not coming. My brother is picking me up again today.”

I stood and looked at Marybeth Collier, the lead volunteer, as she walked closer.

“Have you met Robbie’s brother?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Marybeth replied. “A couple days ago when he dropped Robbie off. Seems like a very nice young man.”

“Young man? Really?”

“Yep, college age, I think. Dotes on young Robbie. They seem quite close given their age difference.”

I turned and looked down the long driveway as a silver minivan approached.

“There he is now,” Marybeth said.

“My brother’s a really, really good driver, but he doesn’t like driving Mommy’s car,” Robbie chimed in. “He drives a racecar…vroom!” Robbie’s arm sliced through the air.

“Is that right?” I said and slipped in behind Robbie’s wheelchair, pushing it forward to where the curb was ramped.

The van came to a slow stop before us, and the driver cut the engine. Marybeth slid the side door open and smiled at Robbie’s brother as loud music pounded all around.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said to her as he turned it down.

“Oh, you’re fine. No worries at all,” she replied.

“Here, lemme lower the ramp,” the brother announced, the mechanical whine of the hydraulic lift drowning out his voice even more than the music.

As the ramp lowered into place, Marybeth left to assist the last remaining student whose parent had just arrived. I pushed the wheelchair up inside the van, turned it face-front, locked the wheels into place and belted Robbie in, just as I’d done countless times before for his mother.

“There you go,” I said and ruffled the smiling boy’s hair. “All set.” I turned toward his brother with my hand out. “Hi, I’m Eden Ross. It’s nice to meet—” I froze mid-sentence as Robbie’s brother shifted in his seat to greet me.

He smiled—so big it took my breath away—and accepted my outstretched hand. “Miss Ross, is it?” he asked.

Robbie giggled. “No, it’s
Mrs.
Ross, you silly!” he corrected.

His brother looked from Robbie to me, and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, “Oh, I see…
Mrs.
Ross. So you’re married then?”

I remained planted in place, stunned and speechless.

“Sean!” Robbie scolded in his little sing-song voice. “Misses means married, you big goof!” He giggled again and squirmed in his seat.

I stared at Robbie’s brother and finally broke my silence. “Sean? But…I thought—” I started but was abruptly cut off by a stern look from Robbie’s brother. So I turned to Robbie. “Would you mind if
Sean
and I had a word in private? It’s just grownup stuff I need to pass on to your mom.”

Robbie shook his head and grinned at me. I ruffled his dark curls one last time.

“Great. We’ll be right over there by the doors so you can see us. Okay?”

Robbie nodded this time, and I swung my head, motioning his brother to follow me.

“Be right back, bud. Love you!” he said to Robbie, who blew a kiss at his big brother.

We walked to the doors and faced each other, careful to remain in Robbie’s sight, but turned away enough so he couldn’t hear us or see much of our faces. I was shaking all over, so angry and upset, but he merely smirked at me, obviously amused at my discomfort. I was about to unload on him when Marybeth called from a distance and waved goodbye. I returned the gesture as Robbie’s brother calmly waited for me to speak, knowing full well that, while I’d likely want to unleash my wrath on him, with Robbie watching, I wouldn’t.

I folded my arms over my chest. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” I fumed. “And I thought your name was Daniel. Why would you lie to me about that?”

As his brow rose high, that twinkle faded into what looked like shame, but only for a moment. “I didn’t lie, Eden,” he said with a small shake of his head. “Like I told you, Daniel’s my middle name.”

I dropped my eyes to my feet and my fists to my side, pumping them until my knuckles turned white. I had to mash my lips into a rigid line to keep from swearing vile insults. After a moment of deep breathing, my heart finally dulled to a simmer.

I turned my gaze back to Daniel…or Sean…or whatever the hell his name was. “This is illegal,” I warned. “You’re stalking me, and I want it to stop, now, or I’ll call the police.”

With a huff, Sean rolled his eyes. “I’m
not
stalking you, Eden. My little brother’s been a student here for over a year. And I’m just as surprised to see you as you are me.” He leaned in a little closer. “But…I’m curious. What exactly would you say to the police? Would you introduce me as your young lover?”