Sweet Child of Mine (15 page)

He held himself so still, so stiffly. Then slowly, so slowly she could almost be imagining it, his head sank against her, resting between her breasts as if he could bear his aloneness no more.

Her throat closed up tight, and she closed her eyes against the burn of tears. She opened her hand wide against the back of his head and caressed it, sliding her other arm over his back and cradling him against her.

His arms wrapped around her like steel bands. A shudder wracked his body.

“It’s all right, Michael,” she crooned. “Let go…just let go for a while.”

For a moment this very strong man clung to her, drawing in deep breaths, fighting for control. Waves of pain emanated from him and rolled over her.

Desperate to comfort him, to return some measure of all that he’d given her and her son, she slid to her knees before him and took his face in her hands, kissing first one eyelid and then the other, then seeking out his mouth, only intending to kiss him sweetly, to share with him some part of the strength he’d given her.

But then the kiss changed. Suddenly comfort turned to blazing need. Michael pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, almost desperately, the fire inside him leaping past the flimsy barrier of what she knew was sensible. And she had to answer.

Logic was the first casualty of the blaze that had been smoldering between them from the first. For what seemed like eons, she’d been resisting the potent lure of this man. They’d dodged sparks and thrown water on every tiny flare, but like a brushfire, the hunger between them leapt every barrier they’d erected between what was logical and what their hearts wanted. What their bodies demanded.

Michael lifted her to his lap while his lips burned a path from her mouth down her throat. Nimble fingers opened buttons and dismissed clasps until she was bare to the waist under the stars and the moon.

Then his hot mouth closed over her nipple, and Suzanne’s head fell back in surrender. There was no world but Michael, no reality but this man and how much he already meant to her.

With tongue and teeth and hands, he made her wild. He drew a passion from her far beyond anything she’d dreamed. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing and strode inside with her and up the stairs, eyes dark with mingled sorrow and need begging her to join him in holding reality at bay.

In truth, she wanted respite herself this night. For too long she’d walked on eggshells, falling more under his spell each day. He didn’t want to love her, he swore he wouldn’t love her, and yet she had hope, however foolish, that he would change his mind.

She was already more than half in love with him, foolish or not, hopeless or not. Perhaps there was no way to sway him. Perhaps she would lose. But she knew she was strong enough to handle whatever life cast her way. If Michael never loved her, still he needed her now, needed the surcease the night would bring. Whether or not he would ever admit it, his soul needed rest and it was in her power to give it.

And she needed this night, too, however much pain lay in her future. It would be no worse, surely, to have to leave with this memory to warm her than to leave and always wonder. On long, cold nights in the future she would build for her son, she would treasure this one night, no matter how bittersweet the memory. For
one night she would share herself—all of herself—with Michael Longstreet.

The best man she’d ever known.

And with that resolve came a quickening of hunger so deep she felt faint. With shaking fingers, she reached for Michael’s buttons as she lay on his huge bed with only the moon to light their way.

Suddenly he gripped her hands and stilled them. “Suzanne, if I could love anyone, it would be you, but—” His eyes, so hungry and dark and sad, said the rest.

“Shh.” She stopped his words with her fingers, then replaced the fingers with her kiss. “I know,” she soothed, her heart cracking but resolute. “I understand.”

“Do you?” he whispered harshly, holding his body still, though she felt a quiver arc from his body to hers.

“Yes.” Fiercely she kissed him and concentrated on his buttons until she could blink back the tears of grief waiting to snare her. Not now, she ordered herself. I’ll grieve later, but not tonight.

Soon they were both naked, and Suzanne saw the power of the body she’d wondered about so many times. His body was a warrior’s, layered with muscle, his chest dusted with hair darker than on his head. His gaze swept over her and his hands followed suit. Goose bumps rose over her body as he brought the fire to an inferno.

“You’re so small,” he murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wild for him as she was, she couldn’t repress a shiver. He was big—all over.

His eyes crinkled as her gaze dropped to study him, then they turned serious once again. “We don’t have to—”

She stopped his words with a kiss. “Oh yes, we do.” Lifting herself to her knees, she paused and lifted her hair in her hands, then let the long locks fall, loving how his eyes darkened, how his body leaped.

With one smooth motion, he rolled to his back and lifted her to straddle him, then reached into the drawer of the nightstand and drew out a foil packet.

Suzanne plucked it from his fingers even as she rocked her hips and felt him buck beneath her as though he’d touched a live wire. He was hard and sleek beneath her and it would take only a slight shift to bring him inside her.

Michael’s hands gripped her waist, and a smile broke through like sunlight. “Vixen.” He reared up and fastened his mouth on one breast.

It was Suzanne’s turn to suck in a deep breath and pray for patience. He felt so good beneath her and around her that she wanted him inside her with a fierceness she’d never known.

Her fingers fumbled and finally she tore at the package with her teeth, cursing beneath her breath.

She could feel Michael chuckle deep in his chest, feel the breath of his laughter over her fevered skin. Never in her life had she laughed while making love, but she might have known nothing with Michael would be like anyone else.

He slid his tongue to the other breast and she wanted to die. “Oh, Michael.” Her breath came hard and uneven.

He straightened, his face only inches from hers, lines of need stark on his face. “Suzanne.” He shuddered and gripped her more tightly. She’d never felt the power of her femininity more in her life.

She closed her arms around his shoulders, holding the circlet of latex in her hand, and kissed him with all the fervor in her heart. One kiss now before she lost her mind completely. One chance to pour the new love in her heart over whatever was left of his. “I—” I love you, Michael. She bit back the words, knowing they would burden him, not help him. She would tell him with her body the words he did not want to hear, the words she’d promised never to utter.

She broke off the kiss as he went too still beneath her, put on guard by how tightly she held him, perhaps. Pretending a lightness she didn’t feel, she pushed him to his back and slid down over his thighs.

When she touched him, he sucked in a gasp. Suzanne smiled wickedly at him and lowered her head, taking him in her mouth.

Michael groaned from his depths and thrust toward
her, then forced her away and sheathed himself. “No, you don’t,” he warned. “We’ve waited too long for this.”

His hands on her hips, he lifted her and eased her down with a gentleness at odds with the wire-tight tension in his body.

Suzanne let her head fall back and moaned as she took him inside. Then she fell forward against his body, loving the feel of him so full inside her.

Though his body shook with the strain, he stayed still to let her get used to him. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

She lifted her head and smiled slowly, licking her lips. “Oh yeah.” And to prove her point, she rocked her hips and seated him to the hilt.

Then no more thought was possible, no more words could be uttered, no more caution could exist. It was all heat and hunger and fierce, driving need. With fingers and lips and the driving beat of his hard body, Michael made her his, imprinted himself forever on every part of her. He rendered her all but senseless with the skill and care he gave to sending her soaring even as she felt how close he was to exploding.

Suddenly she wanted to be under him, to know the full possession of this man, to revel in his power and his command, to feel all woman to this very potent man. She leaned to the side as she fastened her mouth to his throat, and he responded quickly, rolling them and bringing her under him, towering over her like
every hero she’d ever read in the novels that couldn’t touch the reality of this man.

“Michael,” she pleaded, spinning out toward unknown reaches as her fingers dug into his skin, her own flesh ready to burst from the power of the hunger that drove them on, made them one.

“Come with me, Suzanne,” he urged. “Look at me. Let me see those beautiful eyes. Know that it’s me, Suzanne,” and his voice went husky. “Know that it’s me.”

She opened her eyes and feasted on what she saw there, what she felt shimmer in the air around them. “You, Michael. Only you.” She ached from the longing to tell him the words. I love you.

They were there in his eyes, closer to the surface than she’d ever dreamed, but suddenly grief, sharp as a knife, pierced through. He broke the gaze too quickly, dipping his head to hers in a kiss that she knew was designed to distract her from the knowledge that even now when they were as close as breath and bone, his heart was not his own. For a moment she wanted to grieve herself, but there would be time for that later. Right now every nerve in her body wanted this moment, this man, this wildfire between them.

His kiss sent her over, sent her spinning, sent her far beyond herself so that she barely heard the deep, powerful groan as Michael joined her in bliss, exploding against her, then collapsing in her arms, a
welcome weight that she would concentrate on to block out the knowledge that had settled into her heart.

It was the finest lovemaking she’d ever known. He was the man of her dreams. Life with him would be magic; it would be everything she’d ever wanted.

Except for one thing.

Even at the moment that her heart was his and she knew his heart wanted hers—even then, when ecstasy claimed them and they had everything within their grasp, when they could have moved mountains, when she would have sold her soul to stay with him—a dead woman and her child still had first claim.

She should have resented it, should have been furious. Should have left his bed and walked out of his life.

Instead, Suzanne ached for this man whose sense of honor required him to forego what he needed most. And she couldn’t find it in her heart to resent him when she would have given anything to have someone love her that much.

So she wrapped her arms around the man who wouldn’t let himself accept her love and held him close, even as her heart broke.

A
s dawn crept into the room, Michael studied every curve of her body, every line of her face as Suzanne lay snuggled against him. The trust she displayed while sleeping beside him raked his heart over the coals because he did not deserve that trust.

Across the hall he heard Bobby whimper and rose from the bed quietly, covering Suzanne’s beautiful body carefully, then slipped on his pants silently and stole from the room.

When he opened Bobby’s door, Maverick raised his head and thumped his tail softly. With a touch, Michael quieted him and stood over the sleeping child. When Bobby slept on peacefully, Michael turned to go downstairs, his heart heavy.

In one night, in the space of a few hours, he’d betrayed Elaine. Betrayed his child. Despite all he’d thought of his honor, he’d let first a lonely boy into his heart, and then the boy’s mother, despite a solemn vow over a grave.

Even less forgivable, he’d felt things with Suzanne that he’d never felt before in his life. What had passed between them had been so sweet and so hot, so all-consuming that he’d lost sight of all else, had even gone so far as to forget, for those moments, the woman and child he’d promised to love forever.

What he’d felt for Suzanne stunned him. For countless moments, she’d been everything—all he could see, all he could hear, all he could want. When he’d realized he’d never felt this bliss, the connection to Elaine had shivered like a spiderweb before a broom—and the ecstasy of Suzanne had turned to bitter ashes on his tongue.

How could he possibly have felt more for Suzanne than for Elaine, whom he had loved? Elaine was his heart, his life, and he’d failed her so badly in his selfish desire to show his parents that he could have it all without them.

He had no heart to give Suzanne, no love to give her son. Both were buried in Connecticut, never to rise again.

It had been wrong, so very wrong to yield to the comfort Suzanne offered from her generous heart. A thousand images from the night raced through his
brain. Suzanne holding him against her, comforting without words. Suzanne laughing with breathtaking mischief in her eyes. Suzanne, pale as a moonbeam and lovely enough to stun. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the night they just passed.

But it could never happen again. He would be more careful, that was all. He’d never lose control again like that.

No matter how much he ached for a woman he could not have.

The phone rang, slicing into his thoughts. He frowned, glancing at the clock. Six a.m. “Hello?”

“Mr. Mayor,” said the voice of the city utility director. “You’d better get down here quick. We’ve registered DMBE in the city wells.”

Michael’s mind recoiled. Quickly he recovered. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

He hung up the phone and headed upstairs to shower and then wake Suzanne.

“Suzanne,” said the voice from her dreams.

She stirred faintly, then sighed and smiled. Michael. For a precious second, all she could remember was utter bliss.

“Suzanne.” The urgency in his voice sank in.

She opened her eyes to see Michael leaning over her, his green eyes dark with worry and something deeper. She sat up. “What’s wrong? Is it Bobby?”

“No. Bobby’s fine. He’s still asleep. It’s early.”
His hair was damp, and he wore a new set of clothes. Finally it registered that he had on a coat and was ready to go.

He stepped away from her, his eyes carefully distant.

“What is it?” Bliss vanished like the mist. In its place, cold dread grew. At last she remembered the moment when they should have been rapturous; instead, he’d grieved.

“I have to go to town.” His face was so solemn.

“Is everything—” Suddenly she knew. “Oh, no. The wells.”

He nodded. “They just registered it in the first well.”

“What does that mean, Michael? What will we do?”

“I can’t tell you yet. Joe’s people are out of time. We need a solution.”

She was already scrambling from the bed when she realized she had no robe. She looked around for something to put on and grabbed his shirt from the floor before she saw his gaze flicker.

Like a hot potato, she dropped it and wrapped the sheet around her body, feeling too vulnerable to him. Mustering all the aplomb she could gather, she smoothed back her hair, gripping it in an impromptu ponytail. “I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

He shook his head quickly. “No time. I have to
go. I just—” He glanced toward her. “I didn’t want to leave without—”

A thousand unspoken words floated in the air between them, the weight of each one hanging heavier on her heart with each second that passed.

“Suzanne, when I come back, we need to talk.” As grim as his voice was, she could take no comfort. His regret pelted her soul like a shower of sharp stones.

She had no response. What could she say? Love me and not your dead wife? How could you make love to me like that when you’re still tied to her? Every thought that winged her way was loaded with either blame or plea, and she would not burden him with either.

He’d never lied to her. He’d made the ground rules clear. She couldn’t cry foul like some innocent maiden. She’d known he didn’t want to love her, known he was giving as much as he had to give.

But she’d hoped. After the glory of their joining, after she’d felt her soul wing its way to his, she’d foolishly and blindly hoped that he would change his mind.

But he hadn’t lied. And torment rode every line of his face now. It would be selfish in the extreme to chastise him for being true to exactly what he’d offered.

“Go ahead,” she ground out. Lifting her gaze, she
tried to send him off with a smile, but the look on his face would have told her she’d failed even if she couldn’t feel the crack in her heart.

He started to turn but hesitated. “Will you be all right?” he asked in a low voice.

Oh, God. Why couldn’t he be a jerk so she could hate him? She swallowed hard and worked on that smile. “I’ll be fine. You go do what you have to do.”

He nodded and turned, his tread heavy as he moved toward the door. He didn’t turn back as he spoke. “I’ll have my cell phone if you need me. We should have enough bottled water for a few days, and the well for this house is far enough away that it should be safe, but I’m taking a sample with me to get it tested again.”

She smiled. Ever the protector. “We’ll be careful. And thank you.” Thank you for the bliss. Thank you for being so generous. Now if only you could open up that stupid rusty heart…

He nodded again and opened the door.

“Michael?”

He stopped. “Yes?”

Fear gripped her. The more time that elapsed, the more distant he grew. Soon they would only be polite strangers, and she grieved already for the loss.

But she couldn’t make this harder on him than it already was. “Just be careful, okay?”

With one more nod, he was gone.

Suzanne sank to the bed and stared sightlessly at a view that, on any other day, would have been stunning.

Michael called that night, his voice heavy. “I still can’t believe it. David Corbett arrested and charged.”

“The vice president at Springer? With what?”

“Disregard for human life and attempted murder.” Michael paused. “He swears he’s innocent.”

Suzanne felt chilled. “He’s helped me with fund-raising for Emily’s House.”

“I know. I’ve worked with him several times on issues affecting Springer and Prosperino. He just—he doesn’t seem like someone who would do something like that.” They were both silent, thinking. Then he spoke again. “Todd Lamb is his replacement. He’s Holly’s father.”

“Blake’s secretary Holly?”

“Yeah.” Exhaustion rippled through his tone.

No matter how awkward things had been left between them, she couldn’t help responding. “Come home, Michael. You need to rest.”

“I can’t. Not yet. How’s Bobby?”

“He’s subdued. I kept him busy today. He wants to know when you’re coming home.”

A long silence ensued. “Suzanne…”

She wanted to scream. Wanted to beg. Wanted to turn back the clock to last night.

His voice turned neutral. “I’ll do the best I can. Tell him good night for me.” Then he was gone.

As she put Bobby to bed, she noticed how pale and listless he was, perhaps more than before. She couldn’t tell if it was sorrow or illness. She was used to pushing herself and wondered if she’d kept up too strong a pace for Bobby, too.

She brushed his hair off his forehead and kissed him to check his temperature, but he didn’t feel warm. “You okay, Bobby Bear?” she asked.

He smiled up at her. “Yeah. Just kinda tired.”

“We did a lot today, didn’t we?” She’d decided it was too soon to start him in his new school. Next week would be soon enough. So she’d taken him with her to the Colton ranch to check on her kids, and everyone there had treated him like a mascot. While some of the boys showed him around, she’d thanked Blake again for letting her have time off to get Bobby settled. Blake knew the situation and had been sworn to silence. Until Bobby knew she was his mother, they would stick to the cover story that he was simply a friend’s child for whom she and Michael were caring.

“When’s Michael coming home?” Bobby asked.

She sighed. “I don’t know. When he called, he still had reporters to talk to and more plans to work out.”

“He’s really important, isn’t he?” There was pride there.

She nodded. “Yes. Right now he’s especially important because people are looking to him to lead them.”

“Because the water’s bad?” Bobby asked.

She hadn’t tried to hide the danger. Bobby needed to know to be careful what he consumed until the crisis was over.

“Yes. People are afraid, but Michael says that Mr. Colton’s experts have figured out a way to treat the water, so he’s hoping the citizens will calm down once word gets around.” She smiled. “But we still need to be really careful until Michael says it’s clear, even though our well tested out all right.”

Bobby nodded, then did one of those lightning-fast changes of subject that children did. “I liked the kids where you work. They were pretty cool to me.” He grinned. “Some of the boys say you’re the ench.”

Suzanne stifled a groan. She wasn’t ready for teenspeak from Bobby. Then she grinned and gently tapped his nose. “And what do you think?”

“I think my dad was right.” Sorrow drifted over his sweet face. “He said you would do everything you could to make it not hurt so much.”

“Oh, sweetie…” She gathered him into her arms. “I wish I could make it all go away right this second, but it’s just what happens when we lose someone we love. It’s part of love, but it will get better after a while.”

“I don’t want to forget my dad, Suzanne,” he whispered.

“I don’t want you to forget him either. He was a very good man, the best kind of man.”

Bobby leaned his head back. “Like Michael.”

An ache speared through her, but she nodded. “That’s right. Just like Michael.”

“What’s like Michael?” a deep voice asked.

Both she and Bobby jumped, then Bobby wriggled from her arms and raced from the bed. “Michael!” he shouted, leaping into the man’s arms.

Suzanne cringed as she saw the pain on Michael’s face, but he didn’t rebuff her son. Instead, he engaged in a few moments of horseplay until Bobby collapsed in giggles.

Michael looked exhausted, so gently she urged Bobby back to bed, but nothing would do but that Michael tuck him in.

She started to intervene, but Michael shook his head. Instead, he talked quietly with Bobby, helping him calm down and get ready for sleep. Bobby’s small hand slipped trustingly into his, and Suzanne ached for both of them.

She stepped back toward the door when Bobby spoke in a sleepy voice.

“Michael, sometimes I wish you would be my new dad. Would my dad be upset that I wish it?”

She saw raw anguish slide over Michael’s face, and she knew in that moment that they’d made a terrible mistake. They’d underestimated the price on Bobby of their marriage of convenience. Every one of them would suffer—but none more than this innocent child.

She didn’t stay to hear his answer. She couldn’t
listen. All she could think was that it was over, that there was no way she could stay one second longer and let Bobby get more and more attached to a man no sane person could resist.

The knowledge left her trembling with fury—blind, raging fury at whom, she wasn’t sure. Herself, certainly, for being so naive. Michael, for clinging to a love long dead when he could have one that lived. And fate, the coldhearted witch, for taking Jim Roper from the son who needed him so much.

When Michael walked out of Bobby’s room, they faced each other in profound silence, the knowledge as plain on his face as it must be on hers that the stakes had changed.

“Let’s talk downstairs,” he said grimly, though he looked ready to fall on the floor in exhaustion.

“Fine.” This couldn’t wait.

When they reached the kitchen, she tried desperately to hold on to the fury that simmered.

“Suzanne—”

“I’m leaving. Tomorrow. Bobby and I will be out of here as soon as I can pack.”

“What?” He looked at her, stunned. “Why?”

“Why?” It was a match to tinder. “After that, you can ask me why? He’s getting too attached, and you have no intention of loving him back.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You don’t have to say a word.” Fury dug in its spurs. “You made it abundantly obvious last night
that your heart is dead and gone.” When he started to speak, she held up a hand. “You warned me, I know. But like a stupid fool, I fell in love with you, even knowing I’m not your type of woman.”

“What do you mean, you fell—”

She rode right over his words. “But I’m not the issue here. I’ll get over it, but I won’t let you break my son’s heart, too.” She glared as fire shot through her veins. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong with my son that he’s not good enough to gain your love. You tell me where that boy falls short because from here, he seems like one very wonderful kid.”

“He is a wonderful kid. He’s the best. If I could love any child, I’d love him.”

She shoved away the hurt of being excluded from that statement. “Why, Michael? Why can’t you love him?” Why can’t you love me?