What You Wish For (11 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
“You feel something for me, I know you do,” Sam murmured against her hair. He turned her gently to face him and then began to nibble at the base of her throat, his hands working beneath the opening of her skirt. “Do you like it when I touch you here?” His fingers skimmed lightly over the smooth skin of her inner thigh. “And here?” His lips blazed a trail to the satin-smooth valley between her breasts.
He nuzzled the pulse spot at the base of her throat, feeling it race beneath his lips. He wanted her, wanted to feel her skin warm beneath his hands. He could already anticipate her passion. Each curve and hollow of her body beckoned to his lips and hands. Her long dark hair twined through his fingers as he turned her to face him. When his mouth claimed hers, she welcomed him feverishly. He deepened his kiss, searching for an answering response. It came when he whispered her name, when his fingers gentled on her flesh, when he breathed his need for her. Then, with a little moan, like the sound of a stricken child, she turned into his embrace, offering her mouth to his, yielding beneath his touch.
Suddenly she was naked, the last obstacle between his hands and her body had been discarded. He took her hands in his and placed them on his belt, invoking her without words. His jeans fell away beneath her fingers; she left his newly exposed flesh warm from her kisses, continuing until he was as naked as she was. Their passions rose like the wildness of a summer storm, hungry mouths searching, feverish hands touching.
They tore at each other, each seeking what only the other could give. There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, only the here and now. And when their passion had abated, lips swollen from loving and bodies glistening with the sheen of desire, they lay in one another's arms glorying in the journey they had shared. Kiss-softened mouths, tender exploring caresses, bodies still warm from passion's fever, they basked in the afterglow of a moment only two could share.
“Sam,” Helen whispered.
“What?” Sam whispered in return.
“I didn't know . . . I never . . . It was never like that before. Sam, I love you. There, I said it. I've been wanting to say those words for months, but I was afraid. I love you. Sometimes love hurts when you can't do anything about it. I'm glad you pushed me into telling you everything. I'm so tired. Are you tired, Sam?”
“Worn to a frazzle. Let's take a little nap.”
“Oh, that sounds so good. The best part will be waking up next to each other. Stay the night, Sam.”
“You'd have to drag me kicking and screaming to get me out of here. I'm staying.”
Helen snuggled into the crook of Sam's arms.
The lovers slept peacefully and dreamlessly.
It was two o'clock in the morning when Helen took her place at the dining-area table, her eyes sparkling. “Well? Do you think this model will sell?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.
“I'll take a dozen,” Sam said.
“Be serious.”
“I am being serious. I'll give them to all the female department heads for Christmas. Anonymously of course. I still can't believe you're going to sell crotchless underwear!”
“Supply and demand. Frederick's of Hollywood sells it. It's not really crotchless. There's . . . an extra piece if ... if a person wants it.”
“Oh. That makes all the difference in the world.” Sam grinned. “Want some wine? The wine we were supposed to drink earlier?”
“Sure.”
“Where do we go from here, Helen?”
“How about the bedroom?”
“Are you serious?”
“I'm serious.”
“When? I mean, now? We just came out of the bedroom.”
“Unless you have something else to do,” Helen quipped.
“Me. No. I never have anything to do at this time of night. This is supposed to be the time when you . . . you know, do stuff like this . . . like that. Isn't it? I don't think it matters if we just did stuff like that, you know, before. Hell, we took a nap and everything.”
“I think we should go for it. You are the sweetest, the most gentle man I've ever met in my life. Caring and loving, too. Did I leave anything out?”
“Handsome. I'm ready,” Sam said. “What about the dogs?”
“Why don't you take them over to your apartment. I want to take a shower and get ready.”
“Ready. Yes, you need to get ready. Yesirree, you do need to get ready. Everyone needs to get ready. Yes, indeedy. I'll do that. In fact, I'll do that right now.”
Helen handed over a box of dog treats.
The moment the door closed behind Sam, Helen beelined for the packing boxes for the leftover bag of feathers. She upended the bag all over the bed and then galloped down the hall to the bathroom where she took a five-minute shower. Wrapped in a towel, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. “I am Helen Stanley tonight. I am not Helen Ward, and I am not Nancy Baker.”
Clutching the towel in front of her, she waited for Sam to round the corner into the hallway.
“Oh, Sam! What's your feeling on feathers?” The towel slid seductively to the floor.
“I love feathers,” the glassy-eyed professor mumbled, as Helen shoved him onto the bed.
“Me too. Somehow I knew you were a feather man. They tickle, don't they.”
“Oh yeah.”
“You are going to be so surprised at what I can do with these feathers.”
“You know, I never really thought much about feathers. I see your point, though. Oh, God, do that again. Don't stop.”
11
Helen thrust her arm under her pillow, careful not to wake Sam. She squeezed her eyes shut against the darkness. According to the little travel clock on the nightstand, the sun would be up shortly. A new day! What would it bring? Terror or finally a measure of peace? Both? Was that even remotely possible? She'd broken the rules. Yes, she trusted Sam. How could she not trust him? She'd made love to this wonderful man, not once, not twice but three times during the long night. She'd given herself to him completely. Something she'd never done with Daniel. What was going to happen to her now?
Sam stirred and whispered, “I know you're awake. What are you thinking, Helen?”
“I'm thinking about how wonderful it all was and wondering what's going to happen now. The sun is about to come up. It's a new day. Nothing has been touched yet so that makes it brand-new, kind of sparkly, if you know what I mean. Things have changed. I have to make decisions now. The truth is, I don't know what to do.”
“Do you love me?”
Of course she loved him. “Yes,” she said, her voice ringing with happiness. “Yes, Sam, I do.”
“And I love you. That's what counts. We'll work from there. We need to do some serious talking, Helen. We can do it now or later. Personally, I opt for later.”
Helen rolled over. She smiled. “Let's talk first and get that out of the way. We have all day to do other things. It's the weekend, remember?”
“So it is. Tell me all about you, from the day you were born.”
Helen's stomach rumbled. “That far back?”
“Uh-huh. Were you a cute little kid?”
“Probably not. I was all legs and stringy hair as I recall. My mother wasn't . . . she wasn't much of a mother. Most times I took care of her. She used to call me a little old lady. She was . . . different. She didn't want to get old. She wore sexy clothes and lots of makeup. There was always a man around. Half the time I didn't know their names, and when I did learn them they were gone and there was someone new. I never knew my father. We were trailer-park trash according to the kids I went to school with. It was hard living with that as a kid. I was always shabby but neat and clean. I never had cookies and milk waiting for me when I came home from school. I was lucky there was milk in the icebox. Mom was a cocktail waitress, and she'd bring food home in Styrofoam containers. We never had a grocery shopping day like most families. I don't ever remember my mother making a bed or dusting. She never did the dishes either. Mostly there were just glasses to wash because the Styrofoam trays got thrown out. The forks and spoons were plastic. My clothes came from thrift shops, Goodwill, and the neighbors.”
“How about your teen years? What about high school?” Sam asked.
“It was worse,” Helen said flatly. “I clerked in a drugstore for spending money and clothes. Cheap stuff because I didn't make much. I used to leaf through the magazines in the store and for some reason lingerie fascinated me. It was always so pretty and feminine. I promised myself I would have stuff like that someday. It was a dream, but it kept me going. My mother kept getting older and the thick makeup she used started to make her look even older. She lost her job to a younger, prettier cocktail waitress so she worked in a diner, where her hands got rough and red. She always smelled like fried food. I used to wish she would wash her hair more often. The men she brought home changed to rough types who slapped her around and stole her money. I always kept what little money I had in my locker at school. I had vouchers for a free lunch at school so I made sure I ate everything possible for nourishment. Trailer-park free-lunch kids didn't exactly have friends. I guess you could say I was a loner. All I wanted to do was get out and make it on my own. I counted the days, the hours, the minutes until I graduated.
“Things started to change in my senior year. The last man my mother brought home started to look at me in a different way. It made me nervous, and I told my mother. She accused me of flirting with him and leading him on. I used some of my savings to buy a dead bolt and one of the stockboys from the drugstore put it on for me. I didn't get much sleep that year.
“I moved out the day after I graduated. I got this tiny little efficiency apartment and worked in a boutique and went to school nights to get my degree. It took me six years, but I did it.
“I got a job with a graphics-design firm. Then I met Daniel Ward. He was older, polished, and seemed very nice and dependable. After we'd dated for a while, I showed him the trailer park I grew up in. I wanted to be up-front with him. He didn't say a word about it. He said something like that was then, this is now, and it isn't important where you used to live. He was like a white knight to me. I was so impressed. He seemed to like me. He took me to dinner, to concerts, bought me little gifts. He courted me. Three months after graduation, I married him. I wasn't in love with him. I just wanted to belong to someone. I don't expect you to understand that kind of feeling. I needed someone in my life who cared about me as a person. I thought he did. I had this new, tiny little apartment and I loved my job. If things had been normal, I would have made him a good wife. I knew how to keep house and how to cook. I thought I would learn to love him. I was so stupidly naive it makes me sick when I think of it now. I want you to know, though, I would have stuck to my bargain. I am so glad we never had children. Don't misunderstand, I love children. I just didn't want Daniel Ward's children.”
“You should have left, Helen.”
Helen propped herself up on one elbow. “That's so easy to say and not easy to do. Go where, Sam? Back to the trailer? Back to that tiny little apartment? I tried talking to a counselor at the neighborhood church. He told me I needed to honor my husband. I spoke to the parish priest, and all he wanted to do was talk about forgiveness and turning the other cheek. At that point in time, Daniel seemed to be the lesser of two evils. I tried talking to my mother, but she told me I made my bed and now I had to lie in it. In other words, I wasn't to even think about returning to the trailer. I grew up watching men abuse my mother. Maybe down deep, I thought that's the way it was supposed to be. I know that's sick thinking, but I did think that. There, now you have it all. I don't ever want to talk about this again, Sam.”
“Didn't you have any relatives?”
“No. There was no one. In the beginning, Daniel would just jab at me, maybe slap me once in a while. He was always contrite the next day. I started to think I deserved it because I married him without loving him. I guess I wasn't in a good mental place at the time. When the abuse really started, I became afraid. He was so violent, so threatening, I feared for my life. Unless you've been there, you can't possibly understand.”
“You're free now,” Sam said, reaching for her.
“You don't understand, Sam. I will never be free of him. He's looking for me right now. He is not the kind of person to ever give up. Never, ever.”
“I think you're giving this guy too much credit. How can he possibly find you? Your people spirited you away. I'm sure they left no signs anywhere. He'd have to be Houdini to find you.”
“He's a computer wizard. There's nothing he can't do with a computer. He is literally a wizard. You need to believe me.”
“All right, I believe you. What are you going to do?”
“I don't know. I must be a very weak person to have spilled my guts to you,” she said flatly. “I have to get in touch with Boots.”
“Then let's get up and log on. Isn't there anyone you can call? Don't you have a go-between?”
“No. Just the e-mail. There is someone I can call if I get desperate. The vet who helped me and Lucie. I promised I would never call him. If I do call him, that means I've compromised the foundation. I don't want to do that. Talking to you is bad enough. Who gets the shower first?” Helen asked, hoping to change the subject.
“You go first. I'll walk the dogs. Looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. Let's go on a picnic.”
Helen stared at Sam as though he'd sprouted a second head. “Picnic? With all this staring me in the face, you want to go on a picnic?”
“Yeah, I do. It will be good for both of us. Maybe we can come up with some ideas on what you can do. A picnic is not a bad idea, Helen. Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses. The dogs will love being able to run for a while.”
Helen's shoulders slumped. “Okay, but first I have to see if I can reach Boots. I have the store to get ready, a million things to do. Okay, okay, we'll go on a picnic.”
“Attagirl. We'll be back in a flash. We never got to do those other things.”
“I know.” Helen twinkled. “There's always later. Isn't that all part of going on a picnic?”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. I'll throw an extra blanket in the truck.”
Helen stepped into the shower. She lathered up and then let the water sluice over her body while her mind raced. She was pulling on khaki shorts and shirt when Sam was ready to enter the apartment with the dogs. She blew him a kiss as she sat down to log on to the computer. No e-mail from Boots or anyone else for that matter. The chat room was empty.
Helen clicked on her e-mail and typed furiously. The message was short and sweet. “I'm leaving the program unless someone gets in touch with me. Tell me how you want to handle this and where I should return the money lent to me by the Tyger Foundation.” She signed it, Nancy Baker < TTLS >. If she didn't hear back on her e-mail, she would call Dr. Davis that evening.
“Okay, let's get this show on the road,” Sam said.
“Sam, when are you leaving for Vermont?”
“Oh, didn't I tell you? I turned it down last week. I'm staying here. I'm not letting you out of my sight.”
“I can't let you do that, Sam. You said you needed the money.”
“I don't need it that badly. I might sign on with a construction crew. I like working with my hands. I used to do it on college breaks. Hell, I don't think there's anything I haven't done in the name of money. It's not a problem. I want to help you, Helen. I'll do whatever it takes. All I want is your promise that you aren't going to do anything stupid like running out on me. By the way, you never said where you were from.”
Alarm showed on Helen's face. “Why do you want to know that?”
“I just do. Isn't it part of the whole story? It's called trust.”
“I'm not telling you, Sam. That's one thing you don't need to know. Besides, it's better if you don't know. If I promise not to run, will you promise to stop asking questions?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Helen crossed her fingers behind her back. She wondered if she was telling a lie. “Oh my God, Sam, I forgot to check the Internet to see if any orders came in. I keep forgetting I'm selling on-line now. Damn, this is all so new to me. I need to get it together, and obstacles keep getting in the way.”
“Tell you what, you stay behind and check, I'll get the groceries I never got yesterday. By the time I get back we can load up and be off. Is that okay with you?”
Helen stood on her toes to kiss him lightly. “Whatever did I do without you?”
“Beats me. Run around in circles? You keep the dogs, okay? Don't forget, we need food for the picnic.”
“Yes, sir.” Helen smiled as she snapped off a smart salute.
Helen felt the blood pumping in her veins as she sat down to turn on the computer. Would there be lingerie orders? How could she not have looked earlier? Perhaps it was all so new to her she just didn't believe she could earn a living on the Internet. Either that or she was totally stupid and out of her mind. Both, she decided, while she waited for the web site to boot up. Why else would she have blurted out her life story to Sam?
Some of the tension between her shoulders lessened when she remembered their lovemaking during the long night. He'd been so kind, so gentle and so very passionate. Sex had never been good with Daniel. All he'd ever wanted was instant gratification.
Please, God, don't let anything go wrong. Please don't let Daniel find me and ruin things. Please, please, please.
She smiled as her web page came into focus with the shower of white feathers cascading down the screen. She continued to smile as she clicked her mouse to scroll down her limited inventory. Satisfied that the page looked as tantalizing as it did the first time she viewed it, she clicked on her e-mail to see if there were any orders. She blinked in amazement as her index finger on the mouse started to tremble. She counted in a shaky voice. Eleven orders for the black bustier, nine for the white lacy teddy, eighteen orders for the black camisole and matching garter belt, and four orders for the black, underwire push-up bra with the lace straps. She clapped her hands in glee as she continued to scroll down the credit-card page. She sat back in her chair and whistled when she started to read the inquiries for the spike-heeled shoes and fishnet stockings.
Please, God, don't let anything go wrong. Please don't let Daniel find me and ruin things. Please, please, please.
She smiled as her web page came into focus with the shower of white feathers cascading down the screen. She continued to smile as she clicked her mouse to scroll down her limited inventory. Satisfied that the page looked as tantalizing as it did the first time she viewed it, she clicked on her e-mail to see if there were any orders. She blinked in amazement as her index finger on the mouse started to tremble. She counted in a shaky voice. Eleven orders for the black bustier, nine for the white lacy teddy, eighteen orders for the black camisole and matching garter belt, and four orders for the black, underwire push-up bra with the lace straps. She clapped her hands in glee as she continued to scroll down the credit-card page. She sat back in her chair and whistled when she started to read the inquiries for the spike-heeled shoes and fishnet stockings.
Helen fixed her gaze on the two dogs staring at her intently. “Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe we are in business!” She clapped her hands again. Lucie howled, and Max tried to jump onto her lap, at which point Lucie bit his tail. A moment later they were chasing each other around the apartment, barking.
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