Daring Devotion (14 page)

Despite her best effort, Andrea jumped in fear. She found herself backing away from him and preparing to flee out the back door if necessary.

Andrew's eyes darted from his daughter to the back door as if he clearly read her intention. He sighed heavily. “All I'm saying is, look at the mess you made of this whole wedding fiasco. All because you did not give yourself enough time to get to know this guy. Now, all the family and friends we've invited from out of town, not to mention Cal's family, have to make last-minute cancellation plans. All because you acted rashly.”

Andrea's eyes narrowed on his face. Her fear had vanished and been replaced by anger. “I did not act rashly. I love Cal. I apologize for the confusion over the wedding, but it wasn't because I didn't think things through.” Andrea stood her ground, even when she noticed her fathers jawbone flexing. She expected him to lash out at any moment, but she'd determined long ago that if this day ever came, it would end a lot different than he expected.

His assessing eyes ran over her once more, and then he returned to his mail as he dismissed her out of hand. He turned and walked back into the other room.

Realizing she'd won the battle, but wise enough not to stick around, Andrea quickly kissed her mother on the cheek, and headed toward the front entrance, knowing it was the quickest route to her car.

Her father appeared in the entryway again, blocking her path. “Maggie, where is my dry cleaning?” He leaned around Andrea to look at his wife. “I didn't see it hanging in the front closet. Didn't I ask you to pick it up today?”

Andrea heard her mother gasp in alarm. “Oh, Andrew, I had so much to do today it completely slipped my mind. I'll get it first thing in the morning.”

“But there was a suit in there I wanted to wear to a client meeting tomorrow. First thing in the morning will be too late.” He snarled between his teeth. “Go right now.”

“But they're already closed.” Her mother whimpered, glancing at the clock on the wall to be sure. “They closed at five.”

“I give you one simple task in a ten-hour period and you cannot even get that done,” he growled. “So what am I supposed to wear to my meeting?”

“I'm sure there is something appropriate in your closet.”

Her father became completely still, and Andrea could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She suddenly realized it wasn't her father's ranting and raving that always forewarned that something terrible was about to happen. It was that sudden calm that would come over him, like now.

Like a wild animal conditioned to recognize danger, she knew what was about to happen. She hurried toward the doorway, and as she moved past her father, he dropped a petal light kiss on her forehead. “That's it, run along, kitten. I need to speak to your mother in private.”

In that instant, Andrea hated herself, realizing she'd been as conditioned as her mother. Her mother would shriek in terror and she would run and hide. That's the way it had always been. The few times she'd broken the pattern, there had been dire consequences.

She was almost to the front door when she heard her mother's cry.

“Andrew, no!”

Unable to stop herself, Andrea turned and raced back to the kitchen. So many times she'd done this and regretted it until she said she would no longer interfere. Still her feet moved in the direction of the commotion, she was unsure what she would do once she got there, but she had to do something.
This madness has got to stop.

“Stop it!” She rushed across the room without thought. “Stop it.” She grabbed hold of her father's thick arm.

Her father swung around with a look of stunned surprise. “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” He shook her loose easily.

“No!”
Andrea raged with the fury of thirty years of helplessness. “No more! You won't hit her anymore!”

Margaret pushed her way in front of her husband to get between the two people she loved most in the world. “Andrea, just go,” she whispered.

“No, Mom.” Andrea did not realize she was crying until she felt the first salty tear fall into her open mouth. “No, I won't leave without you.”

“Just who the hell do you think you are dealing with, young lady.” By then, Andrew had regained his composure and tried to regain his viselike grip on his family.

“A man—just a man.” Andrea felt the shaking all the way to her toes. This was her father, the man who'd ruled her world all her life. But it was time for him to give up the reins whether he liked it or not, and the first step in that was to get her mother out of the house. She couldn't think beyond that. And at the moment, that task in itself seemed almost monumental.

Andrew's dark eyes narrowed on her face. “I'm your father, Andrea Nicole. And you
will
treat me with all due respect!”

Andrea reached forward and grabbed her mother's arm, jerking her to stand behind her. “Well, with
all due respect,
Daddy, you will keep your hands off my mother!”

“Andrea, don't do this.” Margaret's troubled eyes darted between her husband and her child. “Please, this is none of your concern! I'm begging you to just go, leave. Before it's too late.”

“Too late for what?” She hissed the question, never taking her eyes off her father who was now trembling with rage. “I'm already two broken arms, seven broken ribs, one black eye and eight busted lips too late!”

Andrew's eyes widened in amazement.

“Oh my God! You've been keeping track!” Margaret pulled away from her daughter and covered her mouth with both her hands.

“Get out!” Andrew roared. “Get out of my house, and don't ever come back here.”

Andrea ignored him and turned to face her mother. “Every time he hit you Mom, I felt it!” She pointed an accusing finger, as the tears continued to stream down her face. “Every single time, you never fought back! Every single time you made excuses for him!”

So caught up in her anguish, she never saw the attack coming, as her father made a slashing motion and clipped her across her ear. Andrea fell to her knees in pain, staring up at her father with pure hatred in her eyes.

He came to stand over her prone form with his hands fisted at his sides. “I said, get out of my house!”

Andrea's water-filled eyes narrowed as she imagined all the ways she could kill him. Without a word, she stood. As she slowly rose, she realized this was the first time her father had ever hit her, his rage had always been directed at her mother. But not anymore, she'd crossed the line and whatever amnesty she may have had while she'd turned a blind eye no longer existed. Whatever fragile bond they had was now completely severed.

She dusted herself off and turned toward her mother. “I'm leaving now, Mom. Are you coming with me?”

Margaret looked at her daughter with anger. “What are you asking me to do Andrea? Leave my husband? For what? Why? Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?”

Andrea glanced back at her father who stood stone-still with his hands fisted at his side, waiting with complete confidence in the outcome of this little discussion. He already knew what Andrea was only now realizing. Her mother had no desire to leave him, ever. Andrea herself had offered her ample ways and means of escape.

From the moment she'd gone off to college all those years ago, until his very moment, she'd stood both mentally and physically with her hand open, begging her mother to come with her. But now she understood, the blame could not be completely laid at her father's door…her mother had a hand in her own suffering. Her dysfunctional childhood was their
shared
responsibility.

Andrea looked from one to the other, two lost souls locked in an endless battle and neither wanting it to end. She refused to be a part of it anymore. Without another word, she turned and walked out of her parents' home, knowing she would never return.

Without thought, she started her car and as if on autopilot she headed in the direction of the apartment complex near downtown. There was only one place she wanted to be right now, only one person she could go to. And despite everything that had happened in the last few days, she knew he would not turn her away.

C
al stood in the open door of his apartment, waiting while Andrea stepped off the elevator. He'd been standing there from the moment he buzzed her into the building. He was trying desperately not to get his hopes up—after all, this little visit could mean almost anything. She could be just dropping off the stuff he'd left at her apartment for all he knew.

When the elevator bell rang and the doors began to open, Andrea stood alone in the middle of the elevator. Her troubled eyes came up to meet his.

He moved forward and wrapped her in his arms. “Andrea, what's wrong?”

She shook her head against his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, needing the warmth and comfort she knew she could only find with him. “I just came from my parents'.”

He nodded in understanding. He shifted his arm to her shoulders and guided her into the apartment. “What happened?”

Andrea went willingly to the couch. “I finally accepted that my mother doesn't want to leave him.”

Cal sat down beside her and turned to face her, taking both her hands in his much larger ones. “Baby, I told you that a long time ago.”

“I know, it's just I always thought, maybe she just wasn't strong enough, maybe she needed someone to encourage and support her.”

“Some women do, but then again, there are some who don't want to be helped.”

“Like my mother.” Andrea added the part of the statement she knew he'd intentionally left off.

“Like your mother,” he confirmed. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” She glanced at him. “I just didn't want to be alone right now. I hope it was okay coming here.”

He lifted her chin, resisting the urge to kiss her. “You will always be welcomed here.”

She studied his brown eyes, trying to see past the surface. “Even though I kicked you out of my bed last night?”

“No matter what happens, Andrea, we will always be friends.”

“I still love you,” she whispered the words, knowing in her heart how unfair it was to say it, when she was the one who walked away.

“I never doubted it.” He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “But as you said, not enough to be my widow. And I can't say that will never happen. Andrea, we both knew the risks of what I do. Every time the call comes, you just never know.”

“Sure you wouldn't consider being a short order cook? Or maybe a florist?” Although there was a certain true desire to the words, the playful twinkle in her eyes belied any seriousness.

“Oh no.” He frowned. “Haven't you read the statistics on short order cook burns? It's damn near an epidemic. And don't even get me started on the dangers of pruning roses. I get chills just thinking about it.”

Andrea smiled. “See, I knew you would make me feel better.” She reached up to give him a brief, friendly hug and found herself locked in a tight embrace. When she tried to pull back, she felt Cal's mouth covering hers, and her body being pressed back into the couch. In an instant, he was over her, urgently grinding against her crotch.

She pushed playfully at his shoulders, squirming to get free of him. “What are you doing?”

He quirked an eyebrow and gently rotated his hips against her. “Don't tell me it's been so long you don't remember this?”

She laughed. “I remember enough to know we are not supposed to be doing it. Friends, remember?” She pushed against him again, and he begrudgingly lifted his heavy weight off of her.

“I'm okay with friendship sex.” His hungry eyes took her voluptuous curves.

Andrea sat up and just for safe measure scooted back toward the opposite end of the couch. “What exactly is friendship sex?”

“When two friends get together for completely meaningless sex. No strings attached.” He grinned wickedly, and she was unable to do anything but smile in return seeing the mischievous glint in his soft brown eyes.

“Where I come from, they call that a booty call.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Whatever. So, are you up for it?”

She laughed openly at the eager expression on his face. “Of course not!”

He feigned an exasperated sigh. “Well, I'm out of ideas. So, what do you want to do?”

She looked toward his kitchen. “How about I make up a batch of my world-class margaritas and you order a pizza.” Seeing the puzzled expression on his face, her heart sank. “Unless you threw out all the margarita makings when I left.” Andrea knew she was really asking if he'd thrown out all signs of her presence in his small apartment and had begun to move on.

“It's only been a few days, Andrea.” He smiled, hearing the insecurity in her voice. “Everything is just as you left it. It's just I was thinking after an evening of pizza and margaritas I'm going to want some—”

“Don't even say it.” She laughed, and headed toward the kitchen.

“Friendship sex!” he called after her.

Two hours, two pizzas and three margaritas each later, they both sat cross-legged on opposite sides of the living-room coffee table.

Cal was bare from his waist up, but Andrea was down to her bra and panties and from the look of the hand she was holding, something else was about to come off. She glared at Cal across the deck of cards. “Hit me.”

Cal reached forward and laid the top card facedown in front of her. His eyes drifted down to her exposed cleavage and he subconsciously licked his lips.

Andrea picked up the card and cursing tossed it back. “I think you are cheating.”

Cal picked up his own card and tossed it back. “Nope, just focused.”

“We've played poker a hundred times, and you've never played this well.”

His hungry eyes darted back to her breasts before he refocused on the cards in his hand. “Never had this kind of motivation.”

“Hit me,” she said again, and Cal gave her another card. She smiled and tucked it neatly in her hand, before tossing away a three of hearts.

Cal saw the triumphant expression pass over her face before she quickly hid it. “Don't get smug now, all I need is two more wins and I'll have you just where I want you.” He pulled a card and tossed it back, before continuing. “Bare as a baby.”

“Well, don't get your hopes up too high. I'm not naked just yet.” She spread her hand across the table and it was a full house. “Take that!”

Cal tossed down his own hand in defeat. “Damn! So close!” He began to reshuffle the cards.

Andrea stood and stretched, then reached for her blue jeans.

Cal looked up at the rustling sound. “Where are you going?”

“Home. It's getting late and I have an early shift tomorrow.” She winked. “I have to sleep off these margaritas. And if I remember right, you start a new cycle in the morning.”

He made a noise that sounded strangely close to a whine. “Come on, two more hands.” He thought about how close he'd come to getting her panties off, it was like being within reach of the finish line and suddenly finding yourself yanked back to the starting gate.

Andrea smiled in a way that said she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Sorry to disappoint you, my love, but you won't be seeing these,” she pointed to her breasts, “anytime soon.”

“We'll see,” he grumbled under his breath, and began collecting up the cards. Once she was fully dressed, Andrea came around to where he still sat like a moping child. “Thank you,” she whispered with a soft kiss on his cheek. “For everything.”

The sad expression gave way to a soft smile. “Anytime.”

As Andrea let herself out of the apartment, he continued to sit at the table playing solitaire and trying not to notice how empty the apartment suddenly seemed. Cal was convinced that Andrea just needed some time. But the wait was killing him.

Twenty minutes later, he was just putting the cards back in the box and preparing to head to bed early. Sometimes when Andrea was heavy on his mind, sleep would help chase her away…for a while. The phone rang and he answered without looking at the ID caller.

“Is the offer for friendship sex still on the table?”

Cal smiled. “On the table, the chair, the bed, anywhere you want it.”

The knock came on the door instantly, and he crossed the room quickly to open it. She stood there like a dejected doll, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed and all he wanted to do was pick her up in his arms, carry to his bed, and kiss away the heartache.

Giving in to impulse, he swooped her up in his arms and Andrea's arm came around his neck without hesitation.

“I don't know if this is such a good idea. I'm suppose to be getting over you,” she whispered against his neck.

He kissed her forehead. “Trust me, this is the best idea you've come up with in days.” He leaned back to look down in her face, as his own spread in a wicked smile. “And as for the other, that's fine, too. You know I like to be on top. But if
you want to get over me,
I'm okay with that.”

She laughed and pushed against him. From her position cradled in his arm the motion was barely felt. “That's not what I meant.”

Andrea continued to hold tight as he lowered her to the bed. She couldn't seem to let go. She hadn't felt this safe,
this right,
in days.

When she felt his soft lips touch hers, suddenly nothing else mattered except opening her mouth and welcoming his warm tongue. Her fingers wound their way through his tight curls as she pressed his head to hers needing to savor every drop of his sweet taste.

She couldn't stop herself from touching him. His thick arms, muscled shoulders, her eager fingers roamed over every inch of skin she could reach refamiliarizing herself with the body she loved almost as much as the man. It seemed like it had been months since she'd felt his heavy weight bearing her into a mattress, when in truth it had only been a few days.

The need was an all-consuming thing taking her over, and Andrea was certain she would die from pure want. She felt the slight pressure of a warm palm pressing against her inner thigh and her legs immediately fell open to welcome him home.

Without hesitation, Cal settled himself against her center and took her face between his hands. “I love you, Andrea.” He looked directly into her eyes so that she could see the truth of his words. There was no way he could love her and not have her understand the truth of it. There could never be anything casual and friendly in what they shared.

The fierceness in his brown eyes took her breath away. She swallowed hard and blinked once, but could not seem to speak, not that she needed to speak.

He'd laid his claim. She now knew the rules of this game. Rule number one being…this was no game.

Cal rose above her and covered her body with his, and she parted her rosebud mouth to welcome him, even as her arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer. Cupping her small bottom in his large hands he pressed her center against the coarse material of his jeans. Gently grinding against her soft core with the promise of what was to come.

Andrea's head fell back in surrender as the warm moisture rushed down in respond to her lover's silent call. She lay cradled in his arms like a rubber doll, completely satisfied to be vulnerable to his every whim. His calloused palm slowly ran over every inch of her skin, caressing and stroking, rolling and rubbing until Andrea could hardly breathe for her pounding heart. Her nails clawed at his shoulders when he pulled away to undress, but within moments he was back in her arms.

She felt the latex-covered knob pushing at her center, and she struggled to hold on in the whirlpool that threatened to sweep her away. “Oh, Cal.” Unable to say any more, Andrea lifted her body and parted her legs wider.

She reveled in his hot breath on her neck, her breast, his heart pounding against hers. No matter how many times they made love it was always, always this good. Even with everything so wrong between them, he still felt like everything was right.

“I love, you, Cal,” she moaned on a half breath as his thickness slid deep inside her body. “I will always love you.”

“Shh,” he cooed lovingly, before reaching around to cup her bottom in his strong hands. Slowly, carefully, he rocked in and out of her body until she thought she would go insane with the wonderful feeling of him.

“Don't stop.” Andrea clung to him, feeling the heat build and build until she thought she would be consumed by the flames.

“I won't,” he groaned against her skin.

“Please.” In that moment, the truth of everything became completely clear to her. Just as she knew she was about to reach the top of the mountain, she knew as certainly that Cal was the only man who could ever take her there.

“I won't.”

For one brief moment, before her whole body went up in flames fate gave Andrea a glimpse of her life without Cal. But the image had no time to fester her feeling of satisfaction because soon Cal was burning with her.