Words of Silk Page 7

  Deke pushed her toward the bed, but she resisted like an inflatable toy that is weighted at the bottom and can’t be knocked over. Barely finding her voice after his familiar caress, she gasped, “You can’t be planning to sleep in here with me?”

  “I’m planning on that, yes.”

  “You can’t!”

  “Why?”

  “Why! Because I don’t want you to, that’s why. You can stay the night, since it’s late. But in the morning you have to leave. I’ll figure out some solution to our . . . uh . . .”

  “Problem?”

  “Yes, problem,” she shouted back, infuriated by his calm.

  He turned away from her, took several pacing steps while he studied the floor, then spun back around, asking brusquely, “Where do you propose that I sleep?” She could all but see him in the courtroom, demanding of some poor soul, “Where were you on the night of the murder?” His eyes bored into her. His stance was intimidating, even if his costume wasn’t exactly the three-piece suit he probably wore to court. “There’s no bed in the other bedroom, and I’ll be damned before I’ll contort my seventy-five inches to fit a sixty-inch sofa.”

  “You should have thought of that before you barged—Oh!” she exclaimed, grasping her side.

  “What is it? God. Oh, hell. Laney? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, nothing,” she said, from her bent position. Slowly she straightened, impatiently warding off his examining hands. “Just a cramp,” she said between shallow pants. “It happens sometimes.”

  “Have you told the doctor? What did he say? Is it gone now? How often does this happen? God, don’t ever scare me like that.”

  They were both bundled into the bed by now, swathed by covers, and his hands were moving over her as though searching for possible injuries.

  “It’s gone now. I’m all right.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Deke—”

  “I like to hear you say my name.”

  “Deke, stop—”

  She was never allowed to finish. His mouth got in the way. “Just a kiss, Laney. Just a kiss.” He sipped at her lips to keep them silent, teasing and playing until he tired of games. His tongue became a master that gentled even as it tamed. He stroked her tongue into enthusiastic participation, and she felt her resistance slipping as her mouth melded with his. They drank of each other thirstily.

  He engulfed her. His scent, his taste, the feel of his hair-rough skin against hers, became as essential as they had once before. That need deep within her resurrected itself. If she didn’t have his touch, if he didn’t kiss her, she would surely die. His manhood was hot and hard against her thigh. She wanted to know it again inside her, deep and full and pulsing, filling the void that was her life. But she couldn’t let him know. She couldn’t.

  “Laney,” he murmured as he dragged his mouth from hers. He licked her lips with the tip of his tongue. “You are delicious. Better than any dessert. No matter how much of you I had, I would never get my fill.” His lips moved across her face to the side of her neck, where he took tiny love bites. “God, I’ve dreamed of this for months. I’ve missed you since the moment I realized you were gone. I’ve been longing to hold you again, to feel your sweet body against mine, to taste you.”

  His hand found her breasts, warm and full. Gently he massaged them, running his palms over them lightly until the nipples responded. He dipped his head and kissed them through the gauzy fabric of her nightgown, wetting the cloth as his tongue nudged the peaks. Laney made a small crying sound that echoed his. His head came up immediately.

  “Damn,” he sighed self-reproachfully. He laid his head against her breasts until his breathing slowed and his passion subsided.

  When at last he lifted himself and looked at her, his eyes were sparking with an internal fire that had been temporarily banked but not quenched. It still smoldered. “I’ve bullied you all day. I won’t rush you into this too. When I joined you in here tonight, I promised myself that we were going to sleep and nothing else.” He reached over and turned out the light. “How do you usually sleep?”

  Laney’s whole body was flushed with desire. She had to concentrate on keeping her breathing steady. She couldn’t let him know that beneath the surface her heart was racing. She knew all she had to do was touch him, lay a hand on him in wordless entreaty, and he would throw his conscience aside and make love to her. But much as she wanted that, she couldn’t let it happen. Better to let him call things off than to regret impulsive behavior later. She rolled onto her side to face the outside. “Like this.”

  “Good. I won’t bump you in the night. Good night.” He lifted her hair from the back of her neck and planted a soft kiss there. His feet found hers to warm them. He laid his arm along hers and cupped her shoulder with his hand.

  Laney couldn’t believe she was allowing this. Passion was one thing; it required nothing of the emotions. Anyone could experience it. But sleeping with someone, actually sleeping, was as good as a commitment. Emotional commitments meant taking risks she couldn’t afford. Making even a minor commitment to this man was unthinkable. More than anyone, he had the power to hurt her. He was still a stranger. But Lord, how familiar a stranger he was.

  She enjoyed the feel of his breath on her neck. The warmth emanating from him permeated her whole body. The night wasn’t so dark and lonely with him beside her. There was someone to absorb the night noises and make them less frightening. One more night with him couldn’t hurt.

  She slept with a clear conscience.

  CHAPTER 5

  In the morning, however, she had to justify her actions. The rationalizations she had made the evening before didn’t sound so convincing in the light of day. As she rushed through showering and applying her makeup, she was once again dismayed by her behavior. Why had she allowed him to sleep with her, to hold her through the night?

  Once, when the baby had become rambunctious, she had stirred restlessly, willing it to relax and let her get her much needed rest.

  Deke’s arm had tightened around her and he had whispered in her ear, “Everything all right?”

  “I have to go to the bathroom.” She struggled free of his embrace and the covers, rushed to the bathroom and then came back, eager for the warmth of the bed. Not a little of that warmth came from Deke.

  When she was once again wrapped in his arms and lying against his hard body he murmured, “Scooter acting up?”

  “Yes,” she sighed and shifted to another position, seeking a comfortable one.

  Deke’s hand came around her, settled on her stomach and soothingly rubbed it. Apparently the baby was entranced as much as Laney, for in moments the fetal movements stopped and Laney was permitted to drift back to sleep.

  Now, giving herself one final inspection before leaving the bedroom, she admitted how good it was having someone to share both the joy and the discomfort with.

  Deke hadn’t been in the bed when her alarm went off, and as she made her way through the house she heard him clattering in the kitchen. “What is all this?” she asked as she entered the sunny room.

  He was buttering a stack of toast. “Whatever happened to ‘Good morning’?” He came to kiss her quickly on the cheek. “In answer to your question, this is breakfast.”

  “I don’t eat breakfast. Maybe toast and coffee.”

  “Not enough for you and Scooter.” He pointed toward the chair. “You’d better get started or the school bell will ring without you.”

  She looked at the plate on the table and groaned. Scrambled eggs, bacon, two slices of toast, grapefruit juice and coffee. “I can’t eat all this.” His granite expression told her that arguing was futile. Last night he had made her eat what seemed like tubs of spaghetti. He wouldn’t listen to her protests now either. Resignedly she placed her purse and book bag on one of the empty chairs and sat down to eat.

  When she had packed down enough to satisfy him, he went out to start her car so she wouldn’t have to cope with the troublesome eng
ine and so the interior would be warm for her. At the front door he held her coat and buttoned her into it. She apologized for leaving him with dirty dishes again.

  He brushed her apologies aside. “Put on your gloves. It’s cold this morning. I’m going to have to do something about that car of yours. It’s cranky as hell.”

  His breath froze in the morning air and the new sun glinted on his silver hair. She found herself actually basking in the careful attention he paid her. But this couldn’t last, and the sooner he was out of her life, the better. “Deke, we must talk.”

  “We are talking.”

  “I mean it. I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Drive carefully.”

  “You’re talking but you’re not listening! Promise me you won’t unpack your things. Promise me.”

  “I promise.” He kissed her with rushed ardor. “Now, scoot. I don’t want you to drive fast to keep from being late.”

  She went, but she wasn’t convinced of his compliance. He had agreed too easily. He looked too well ensconced, too much at home standing on her front porch as he waved her off, too self-assured and content. No, he wasn’t going to leave without a fight.

  The day was hectic. The teachers didn’t even attempt to teach. The children were wound up like chatterboxes with Christmas holiday excitement. Laney’s class decorated coffee mugs to give to their moms. The depictions were innovative to say the least, but Laney knew the mothers would treasure them.

  Helping each child wrap his gift in colored paper, she got all teary-eyed as she thought of one day receiving a gift from her own child. She would hug him and exclaim over the worth of his present. He would know how much she appreciated his efforts to make something for her.

  In all her daydreams the child had green eyes that were both intelligent and filled with humor. Impatient with her musings, she shoved the images aside.

  Today, as soon as she got home, she would demand that Deke leave. What he proposed to do was impossible. He couldn’t stay with her, pretending to be married to her. After the baby came, then what? If he was this possessive with her, how would he be with his child?

  The thought made Laney’s blood run cold. He wouldn’t try to take the baby away from her, would he? No! She wouldn’t let that happen if she had to flee the country and change her identity. Nothing was going to separate her from her child. Not even a force as powerful and influential as Deke Sargent, Attorney at Law.

  What then could she do?

  Bargain? Yes, they would bargain like civilized adults. She would tell him that he could see the child frequently, whenever it was convenient for her. She wouldn’t prevent her child from knowing his father. They would be like a divorced couple: Deke would be a father with visiting privileges.

  It wasn’t the ideal solution, but it was the best she could come up with both to satisfy him and to get him out of her life as quickly as he had entered it.

  After the Christmas turkey lunch, while the children were resting before their party, Laney sat at her desk and made notes. She would appear more businesslike and less emotional if she presented him with a tentative agreement on when and where and for how long he could see the child each year. Of course, for the first year or so, it couldn’t be very often. As the child grew older the visiting time would increase. It tore at Laney’s heart to think of her child going away to stay all summer with Deke. He would lavish the child with presents, take him places that would be financially beyond her. What if the child came to love him more than he did her?

  That wouldn’t happen. She would see to it.

  Her hands gripped the wheel of her car nervously as she drove home. School had been dismissed an hour early, due to the holiday, but this was one day she didn’t look forward to arriving home. She had a plan all worked out on paper. But suggesting it to Deke and getting him to agree to it was an ordeal she dreaded. With his talent for turning a phrase, he could tear her document to shreds.

  Her nervousness changed to curiosity as she turned onto her block and saw that several vehicles were parked in her driveway. An old Ford, a new Mercedes station wagon, numerous trucks. What was going on? As a million possibilities assailed her, fury overtook her.

  Damn him! No telling what he was up to. She had been a fool to leave him alone in her house. She braked the car and slammed the door behind her as she stalked to the front door and pushed it open.

  The house was in utter chaos. A hefty woman in a full apron and orthopedic shoes was wielding the vacuum cleaner around the living-room floor. She looked pointedly at the stranger sitting quietly on the sofa, holding his briefcase on his lap. Obediently he raised his feet and let her sweep beneath them. Another man was kneeling in front of the baseboard, tapping down a telephone cord. There was pounding and hammering coming from the kitchen. Laney could hear Deke’s voice over the raucous noise, shouting, “Don’t bang into the walls, please. Can’t you see that Laney recently painted them? Careful, man.”

  The telephone rang, and before Laney could answer it, the woman with the vacuum cleaner grabbed it up. “No, he’s busy at the moment, but if you’ll hold on, I’ll call him.” She put the phone aside and turned to see Laney, her mouth slack with astonishment, still standing in the door.

  “Why, hello, Ms. McLeod. I’m Mrs. Thomas. I’ve seen you at the school. My little girl, Teresa, is in fifth grade. You might shut the door. Cold air is getting in. I’ve got to fetch Mr. Sargent to the phone.”

  Laney stood dumbly as the smiling woman bustled toward the bedrooms, calling, “Mr. Sargent, telephone again.”

  “’Scuse me.”

  Laney whipped around to see a brash young man in tight jeans, a denim jacket and a battered cowboy hat leaning against the doorjamb. “This the place where I was s’pposed to deliver a dishwasher today or else forget it?” He smiled, popped his chewing gum and winked at her all at the same time.

  “Dammit, I said not to bang the walls,” Deke roared from the back of the house. “Yes, Mrs. Thomas, thank you. Tell them I’m coming.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” someone said softly from behind Laney. A heavyset man was trying to make his way around her through the door. He had on a carpenter’s belt from which several tools dangled on his hips. “I need more nails from my truck.” Like an automaton, she moved aside and let him pass.

  “He’s coming, but you’ll have to hang on a moment,” Mrs. Thomas said into the phone.

  “I need to speak to him too,” the man on the couch said timidly.

  “He knows that. He’ll be with you soon.” The vacuum was started again.

  “Laney!” was Deke’s happy exclamation when he came bounding through the door with the agility of a NFL halfback. “What are you doing home so early? Oh, damn”—he slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand—“I forgot you dismissed early today. I wanted all this done before you got here.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Laney shouted. She faced Deke, her body rigid, her face red and her eyes flashing with anger.

  The man in the cowboy hat whistled softly through his teeth. The carpenter, who had returned with the nails, coughed self-consciously behind his hand. Mrs. Thomas turned off the vacuum, which whined to a deadly silence. She quietly told the person on the telephone to call back and hung it up. Two men Laney had never seen before crowded into the door leading to the bedroom hallway and stood gaping at her. The hammering in the kitchen ceased and another stranger filled that doorway. The man on the sofa stood, thought better of it and sat back down. The telephone installer came up off the floor. They all looked at her curiously, as though she were the one out of place and possibly out of her mind.

  Heaving in a great breath and trying to hang on to her slipping sanity, she asked in a softer, if faltering, voice, “What is going on, Deke? Who are all these people and what are they doing in my house?”

  He took her purse and book bag and helped her off with her coat as he said calmly, “That is Mrs. Thomas, whose purpose I think is self-explanatory. She’s been hired to cle
an, since I’m no good at it and hate it and since you shouldn’t be doing it. Also to cook, because I can prepare exactly two menus, spaghetti and scrambled eggs, and you’ve had those already.” He turned to the housekeeper and smiled. “She’s already put a pot roast in the oven.”

  The man on the sofa caught Deke’s attention by waving a tentative finger at him. “Oh, Mr. Smalley. I’d almost forgotten you.” Deke turned to Laney. “He delivered your new car, but I haven’t had a chance to sign all the papers yet.” To the man he said, “I’ll be right with you.”

  “Phone’s ready,” said the installer, and he began to gather up his tools.

  “He put in a new WATS line so I can conduct business from here and stay in touch with my office,” Deke explained. He pointed to the two men in the doorway. “They are dismantling the old bed and assembling the new one and taxing my patience by scarring the walls.” Shamefacedly they shuffled back toward the largest bedroom and disappeared.

  “New car? New bed! I don’t need a new bed.”

  “Perhaps you don’t. But we do.”

  The young man in the cowboy hat said “Hot damn” under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world like he was enjoying the show.

  “Excuse me. I’ll just squeeze through here. . . .” The carpenter edged past Laney again, apologetically mumbling something about finishing and getting out of their way as soon as possible.

  “He and his helper are taking out a cabinet in the kitchen to make room for the dishwasher and this . . .” His voice dwindled as he glared at the young man, who was eyeing Laney in a way that made Deke’s eyes go hard and cold. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the dishwasher,” the young man replied jauntily.

  “I think the carpenters are ready for you. You’ll get the machine in easier through the back door.”

  “Right.” He let his eyes travel from the top of Laney’s head to the tip of her boots, stopping significantly on her pregnant stomach. He cocked a knowing eyebrow at Deke and, popping his gum loudly and tipping his hat, said, “Way to go, buddy.”