Trouble Don’t Last Always (32 page)

She sighed. “Yes. I don’t want either of them hurt. Both in their own way have gone through so much misery in the past.”

“My Eleanor.” He gently pulled her into his arms. “I think they’re each exactly what the other needs.”

For a brief moment, she stiffened, then relaxed. “I hope so. Love, even when it’s real, can hurt.”

“I know,” he said, despair clear in his deep voice.

She started to pull away and his arms tightened. “Jonathan?”

He set her away from him, but he still held her firmly in his grasp. His eyes were dark and hot.

“Jonathan, what is it?”

“You really want to know?”

There was something in his voice that frightened and delighted her and chased shivers up and down her spine. “Yes.”

“I’ve held this back for more years than I care to remember. I tried to keep this from you, but I can’t any longer. My heart won’t let me. My soul won’t let me.” His hand touched her cheek with the lightness of a butterfly’s wing. “I love you, Eleanor. Not as a friend, but as a man loves a woman. I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you and I’ll love you until the day I die.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at him in absolute shock.

“I wanted to tell you so many times, tried to tell you in so many ways.” His hand tightened. “I loved Randolph like a brother. I respected the love you two shared because it made you happy, made him happy, even though it tore me up inside. I mourned his death and mourned the loss of you even though I’d never had you because I never thought I would.

“I love you, Eleanor. Every time I’ve walked away from you has been like tearing a part of me away. I want to hold you, love you, cherish you. I named
Lady Lost
after you because I never thought you’d be mine. And if you don’t say something, I may run screaming into the streets.”

Her voice trembled as she said, “I thought it was just me. The day at the cottage when Lilly came up unexpectedly. I’d never felt so aware of a man, so needy.”

He closed his eyes. “Thank goodness.”

Her trembling hands brushed across his lips. She wasn’t going to fall off the cliff; she was jumping straight into Jonathan’s arms. “Loving you is so easy, it’s frightening.”

His head turned and he kissed the tips of her fingertips. “Eleanor. Eleanor.” He chanted, “I hoped, I prayed, I dreamed of this moment, but nothing in my dreams compares to how I feel now, how the touch of your hand excites me, humbles me.”

Tenderly his mouth settled over hers. The kiss was a promise, a prelude. “I want to make love to you.”

“Yes.” Eleanor moaned; her heart hammered against her ribs.

Picking her up in his arms, he carried her up the stairs and placed her on the bed in his room. “You are so beautiful.”

“You make me feel beautiful. I feel all new,” she confessed.

He kissed her again, starting at her forehead, then working down to her cheek, the curve of her lips. All the while his fingers were busy with the gold buttons on her suit jacket.

Spreading the jacket, he saw the creamy swell of her breasts above the lacy white froth of her bra. Unable to help himself, he placed his lips there.

Fire shot through Eleanor, but it was quickly followed by unease. Unsteady fingers drew the jacket back together.

“What is it?”

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. Strong, unrelenting fingers lifted her chin. “Eleanor, I love you. If you’re having second thoughts, I may want to chew nails, but I’d understand. If you need more—”

She turned her head aside. “It’s my stretch marks and I–I haven’t been exercising lately.”

Jonathan gave thanks that she wasn’t looking at him, because she would have seen his incredulous expression and his fighting to keep from smiling. Then he felt like kicking himself for not realizing it himself. Women might desperately want children but not the stretch marks or the thickening of their waistline.

“Eleanor, you could never be anything but beautiful to me. I’ve loved you forever, wanted you forever. No, you’re not the same size you were thirty-nine years ago, and neither am I. You’ve matured, but ...” He turned her face back “You’re my Eleanor. I didn’t fall in love with a great pair of legs, although you do have a great pair, or the sashay of your hips, but come to think of it, I try to watch them every chance I get, or your breasts, but I have imagined my lips on them. I fell in love with a woman whose beautiful spirit on the inside shone just as brightly as her beautiful spirit on the outside, and I’ve waited years to tell you.”

Eleanor quivered. Between her thighs she felt the liquid heat of her desire. She wanted him, and she trusted him. Releasing the jacket, she lay back and opened her arms. “You don’t have to wait any longer.”

“Eleanor.” Her name was a whisper, then a sigh as his lips fitted over hers. His tongue mated with hers, leaving both of them breathless. Lifting his head, he pulled her camisole over her head in one smooth motion.

Not giving her a chance to get nervous again, he kissed her again at the same time he undid the front fastener of her bra. Instantly his hands closed over the round globes, his thumbs grazing against the turgid nipples. His head bent and took one rigid point in his mouth. With teeth and tongue, he suckled and licked.

Beneath him, Eleanor shuddered and moaned. She was incredibly responsive. He’d been right about the passion hidden within her. And he had to have more.

Sitting up, he tore at his clothes, then with only slightly less restraint pulled off the rest of hers. When he finished, his mouth went back to hers. His hand swept down and found her wet and hot. His finger stroked her with the same maddening rhythm as his tongue in her mouth. The twin assaults drove each to the breaking point.

He released her, then lifted himself over her, his eyes glazed with desire. “I love you, Eleanor,” he said, then slid into her welcoming warmth. He sighed with the rightness of it, the snug fit of her around him.

“Jonathan.”

He moved slowly at first, allowing her body to adjust to his; then he quickened the pace as she moved beneath him, taking him deeper into her body and making her own demands. He eloquently answered each one.

As she cuddled up next to Jonathan, uneasiness crept over Eleanor. “Kristen can’t know.”

He stiffened and angled his head down. All he saw was the top of her head. “Are you ashamed of what happened between us?”

“Of course not,” she answered, hurt that he thought she would be. She lifted her eyes to his. “Never, but she won’t understand. She loved her father desperately. You know how lost she was after his death. She won’t accept the idea of any man, even a man she admires and loves, courting me.”

The anger went out of Jonathan’s eyes. He pulled her closer. He couldn’t lose her now. He couldn’t. His kiss was hard and possessive. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here with me, that we made love.”

Eleanor flushed, but she didn’t lower her eyes. “Then perhaps you need a reminder.”

“Perhaps I do.”

The house was as breathtaking on the outside as Wakefield Manor. The two-story Mediterranean-influenced house with red tile roof and stucco sides gleamed like a multiprism jewel in the floodlights surrounding it. Palm trees lined the driveway.

“You certainly can pick ‘em,” Lilly said once they were inside the beautifully furnished house. Her gaze wandered from the oak-beamed ceiling to the lighted pool and gazebo that could be seen from the tiled entryway. Cushy upholstered pieces in shades of bone and wheat and African-American paintings created a welcoming atmosphere in the adjoining living room. “Very nice.”

“Glad you like it. My room is up the stairs to the left. I have a second office next to it, besides the one downstairs. The guest bedroom is in the other wing. I’ll show you.”

“Do you want anything before you go up?”

“No.” Taking her arm, they mounted the black wrought-iron spiral staircase. He stopped at the first door to the left of the stairs and opened it, then stepped aside. “My housekeeper wasn’t expecting me, but she usually keeps things in good shape.”

Lilly didn’t look inside the room. All her attention was on Adam. She could look at him to her heart’s content. Notice the laugh lines radiating from the corners of his eyes, the twin lines that ran across his forehead when he was deep in thought, his sensuous lips. “All I need is a bed.”

“You sure?” He frowned. “Maybe I should have waited until morning, but I wanted to spend the night here.”

“Adam, I understand,” she quickly assured him. He was testing his boundaries, regaining his independence. Knowing he wanted her with him while he did so delighted her beyond measure. “I’m happy you wanted me to come.”

He smiled and her heart turned over. “We’re a team, remember?”

“I remember. Good night.”

Entering her room, she flicked on the light. The room, furnished in earth tones with splashes of green as crisp as a celery stalk, could have been lifted from the pages of an interior design magazine. The deep contrast in their worlds had never been more evident, and soon she’d have to return to hers.

She couldn’t get used to flying in chartered jets or riding in limousines or eating on $500 place settings.

Before long, Adam wouldn’t need her. Even as the thought filled her heart with happiness, the thought of not seeing him, not being with him, caused an unbearable sadness to course through her. She had to prepare herself for that day, no matter how much the thought broke her heart.

They were young and gifted, talented and wealthy, armed with degrees from an Ivy League college and backed by their influential families. The world lay before them like a bright red marble. All they had to do was reach out and grasp it.

But first they had some partying to do. After four years of studying and hard work they deserved a night on the town. The six Stanford graduates were making it a memorable one, and no city was more beautiful than San Francisco by night.

Kristen had more to celebrate than the rest. The honors and distinction were nice, but as she had told her Uncle Jon, learning came easily for her and if she liked the subject she soaked up the information like a sponge. It was when the books closed that she had trouble.

As she watched Eric slow-dance with one of their friends, the sexually suggestive gyrating movements, now
that
was impossible. He teased her constantly about her prudishness. Yet unlike the other men she had dated, he kept coming back. She took a sip of her wine. Tonight she had planned to finally show him she wasn’t prudish. They were going to make love. She hadn’t told him yet. She loved him. What woman wouldn’t?

He was gorgeous, with eyelashes longer than hers over slumberous gray eyes and a mouth that she loved to kiss. The music stopped. Disappointment went through Kristen as Eric and Sharmane remained on the floor, this time dancing at a fast tempo.

“Kristen, girl, you better watch Sharmane,” Candace warned in a hushed whisper, shaking her braid-covered head. “She goes through men like a rat through cheese.”

“They’re just having fun. Besides they’re only dancing,” Kristen said. Can-dace, an economics major from Detroit, tended to be almost as serious as Kristen. That was one of the reasons they got along so well. Her boyfriend, Michael, a pre-med student, was the exact opposite. He was the practical joker of the bunch.

“Humph. If they were horizontal I’d give it another name.”

Kristen didn’t say anything, but she was glad when Sharmane’s date, Howard Beacon, returned from the men’s room and pulled Sharmane into his arms. Sharmane plastered her body to the latest man vying for her attention. Candace was right in that respect. Sharmane, who was rich and planned to marry richer, made no secret that she wouldn’t buy a pair of shoes without first trying them on. Men like Howard, who was from an old Southern family with banking connections, eagerly got in line.

Eric slid into the booth beside her, smelling of Sharmane’s cloying perfume. He leaned over to kiss Kristen. Automatically she pulled back.

His handsome face harshened. “I forgot. Thou shalt not touch.” Before she could explain, he picked up his glass and drained the contents. “Waitress. Another.”

Concern knitted Kristen’s brow. He’d had drinks with dinner and three vodka collins since they arrived at the club. One was usually his limit when they went out. “Perhaps you shouldn’t drink anymore.”

He turned and stared at her. “It’s either that or I tear your clothes off, then take a whip to you before I mount you from behind.”

Kristen’s eyes widened. Her mouth gaped.

Eric laughed, but it was a hollow sound. He plucked the drink from the waitress’s hand and downed half the contents, all the time watching Kristen with cold, narrowed eyes.

Silently Eleanor slipped from Jonathan’s arms. On her hands and knees, she tried to find her clothes in the dark. Light flooded the room. She gasped and glanced over her shoulder.

Jonathan stared down at her, a slow sensual grin on his face. Then he threw back the covers and got out of bed, not at all uneasy about his nakedness. “I’m willing to try anything.”

Eleanor blinked, then gasped. “Jonathan!”

Chuckling, he squatted beside her. “Just kidding.” His hands swept the curve of her back and over her buttocks and squeezed. “Although you are a tempting woman.”

Air fluttered out of her lungs. “I–I was looking for my clothes.”

His hand swept upward, his eyes never leaving her. “Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

Heat followed in the wake of his hand and centered in the core of her womanhood. “I…I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Proper Eleanor. I like knowing how improper you can be.” His voice had dropped to a warm husky purr.

“Jonathan, I have to go. Kristen will be back soon.”

His hand paused at the slope of her spine. “And she can’t find you here, is that it?”

“Please, Jonathan.”

He stared into her eyes for a long time, then lifted his hand and picked the white camisole from the carpet a few inches in front of her. “I guess I can wait until tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?” Eleanor repeated.

“Unless you have some objections?”