For Eric's Sake (19 page)

He kissed the side of her neck, and nibbled at her ear. "You're looking in on Eric the same way I've looked in on you each night when you were sleeping alone in my bed." His breath was warm against her neck.

"You mean you came in and watched me sleeping?"

"No." His lips trailed up her cheek as his hands came around to cross in front of her and hold her closer against him. "I only trusted myself as far as the door. The other night I was turning away, resigning myself to another night on the couch, when I realized you were awake. And then I couldn't resist laying in bed with you."

Brandy trembled in his arms at the intensity of his caring. She knew he could have entered the bedroom any time he wanted to, but had not: She realized it was out of respect for her that he had endured the lumps of the couch.

"Now, more than ever, I can't wait to take you to my bed the way I should have done weeks ago. You're ready, aren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Shhh." His lips silenced her. "You don't need words any longer, Brandy. It's the least effective means of communication between a man and a woman."

"But you don't understand—"

"I think I do." His lips trailed down her neck, as he quietly shut Eric's door.

"Shaw, I have to talk to you. I have to explain."

He ignored her, picking her up in his arms to carry her into the bedroom.

"Shaw—" She lay beneath him, unresisting as he began to undress her. "I don't know what to do."

"It'll all come back to you." He undid the last button of her dress and began unfastening his tie.

"No, it won't, because I've never made love to a man. Not even to you."

He tossed his tie aside and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Instinct will tell you what to do, even if you were too drunk to realize what happened between us on our wedding night."

"That's just the point. Nothing happened."

He was about to shrug off his shirt when the meaning of her words sank in. Shaw focused on her as Brandy continued, "You were the only one who was drunk, so drunk you don't even remember marrying me, so drunk all you could do when we got to the hotel room was to undress and fall into bed."

He frowned, trying to recapture the fragments of memory he had left from that night. "But the next morning—"

"I know." She looked down, unable to face him any longer. "I made it look like you had seduced me, but you hadn't. You've never even seen me—naked."

"Do you mean to tell me," his face flushed as realization flooded over him, "that all this time I've been feeling guilty for nothing? That there was absolutely no reason for me not to immediately get an annulment—and still isn't, for that matter?"

Brandy nodded. "No reason except whatever you might feel for Eric."

"Damn!" he said, throwing down his shirt as if it were a poisonous snake he was ready to flog to death. "And now," he glared at her, "I suppose you're telling me this as a last resort to keep me out of your bed again." He laughed. "Well, it won't work. I didn't marry you for nothing, lady, and if I have to be married to you for Eric's sake, I intend to get a few benefits out of the bargain."

Brandy didn't cringe from him as he expected she would. She loved Shaw and wanted him any way she could get him. If nothing else, she would have a memory to live with long after the marriage was dissolved. She might not ever be able to marry again after this night, but she didn't care. Shaw was the only man for her, and she felt it would be that way the rest of her life.

"Well?" He put one knee onto the bed.

"Well what?" She blinked up at him.

"Aren't you going to kick and scream?"

"No." She shook her head. "I was hoping you wouldn't change your mind after I told you, but I felt I had to tell you, to start our marriage out honestly."

He frowned, and Brandy added in a soft voice, "I want you to make love to me, Shaw, because I want to be married to you."

He scratched the hair on his chest, his eyes darkening. "Why?"

Brandy reached out and touched his knee, wishing she could effect a more intimate touch, as she said, "I love you, Shaw."

He hesitated, torn between his desire and his sense of principles, and then took two steps away from the bed muttering to himself. "Well, that just cuts it all," he flung over his shoulder to her. "You win! You finally win!"

"Win what?" Brandy propped on her elbow in bed, hoping her half-dressed appearance would be enough to lure him back to her.

"You win! I wouldn't make love to you now if you were the last female in town."

"Why not?" she wailed. "A minute ago you couldn't wait to get your hands on me!"

A look at his eyes told her his desire had not lessened, but that his mind had a strong influence over his body. "I told you not to fall in love with me. It always gums up a fine relationship between a man and a woman."

"I see it more as completing a relationship," Brandy said calmly.

"What would you know about such things?" He rummaged in his closet for a robe and pulled it over his shoulders. "You're just a little more than half my age. You've never even been with a man." He looked up at the ceiling, realizing again the full consequence of that fact. "But I've been around."

"Maybe it's time you settled down," she said, sitting up in bed now, still deliberately not bothering to alter all the undoing Shaw had already done to her clothes.

"With you I suppose?" He raked a hand through his hair.

"You could do worse… with somebody like Lorraine."

"Leave her out of it."

"How can I," she demanded, "when you spend every night with her? What kind of a husband do you call yourself?"

"No kind." His eyebrows lowered over his eyes. "Not now, not ever. And maybe that's something you need to realize, little lady. I've always been a bachelor. I'll always be one, and a little teenager like you isn't going to change that overnight."

"The bodies change," said Brandy softly, "but the act never does. Wouldn't it be better to build something worthwhile with one person?"

"For other people, maybe. For you, maybe. For me, no."

"Why not? You haven't even given it a try."

"There's a reason for that." He pulled the sash of his robe tighter. "I had the perfect example in my father. He was married four times, each ending in divorce. I'm a lot like him, but at least I have sense enough not to start something I know I can't finish… and marriage heads the top of that list."

"Up to now, anyway," said Brandy.

"Up to and including now." He made it clear.

"What are you going to do, Shaw, about Eric?"

"I'll live up to my bargain about him. To all outside appearances we'll be the happily married couple for as long as it takes. I can guarantee, though, you'll be safe from me in bed."

How could she tell him that was the last thing she wanted now? How could she show him how much she cared for him and wanted to make a life with him? Brandy stared at Shaw, more unhappy than she had ever been in her life.

"I'll move out," she offered sadly.

"No need." He turned back to his closet, selecting shirts and slacks, pulling them off the hangers. "There are plenty of friends I can move in with to spare the hassle over the couch."

"But this is your home!"

"It hasn't felt like it since you moved in."

Brandy sniffed back the tears coming to her eyes. She had made such a mess of everything, all for the sake of a child. When they could be most happy that custody of Eric was not far away, they were most miserable with each other.

"I've always told you tears won't work on me."

"They're not for your benefit." She sniffed, wishing she had never set eyes on Shaw Janus.

"Good." He picked up his clothes. "And keep your feelings of love to yourself, stored away with those other conventions about marriage. They're outdated ideas anyway and have no stock with me. I don't believe in love, and I won't be influenced by that so-called emotion."

"It's your loss," Brandy wept, "and believe me, if I could deny my feelings as coldly as you can, I would. But I guess I'm just not as inhuman as you are, Shaw Janus. I'm warm and living and breathing because I feel. You're no warmer than a scaly old fish."

"You're entitled to your opinion." He threw his clothes over his arm. "I'll dress in the bathroom, if you don't mind."

"You don't have to, Shaw." Brandy stood up, buttoning her dress. "I'll sleep on the couch. You can have the bedroom again. It is, after all, yours."

He turned and stared at her. "That's right. I'd almost forgotten."

Brandy collected the clothes she thought she would need in the morning and removed them from Shaw's closets, drawers and dresser while he showered.

She picked up the extra pillows from the closet to stuff between the cracks of the sofa in an effort to make it more comfortable. She was lucky he wasn't ready to throw her and Eric bodily out of the apartment. That he had agreed to continue with their charade of a marriage totally astounded her.

As she tossed and turned on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position, she realized what a mistake she had made with Shaw's life, her life, and Eric's life. What good would it do to gain custody of Eric, then uproot him from the kind of affection Shaw showed him? Wasn't that as emotionally damaging as if she had let Louis and May move him about the country? At least with them he would know the security of the same people.

The best thing she could do was to end this sham of a marriage, she realized. She had to leave Shaw. Before she could do that, she had to earn some money, and before that, get a new composite made. It all came back to money.

Then she thought of Marcus. He would help her. She remembered the kindly looks he had given her at the party, and the way he said he would be watching out for her. If she explained the situation to him, he would lend her the money for a good photographer. She would leave Shaw then, and give up this wild scheme of trying to get custody of Eric. As much as she wanted to keep him, she realized she could not do it alone. Whether Shaw was sitting legally beside her or not, she would be raising Eric alone, and it just would not work. A child needed a full time mother and father.

Brandy turned over, trying to find a dry place on the pillow to rest her head.

She couldn't blame Shaw. He had been good to them both and no one could have been kinder with Eric— taking him up in the airplane, playing games with him during his spare time from work, reading bedtime stories to him, and taking him to school. He was the perfect father. She had seen that in his personality, even if he could not. He was too stubborn to play the role of husband, and she couldn't do anything more to convince him that he would be wonderful in the part.

Nevertheless, as long as she still remained in this apartment, she would do everything she could to make life easy for him. She owed him that much, simply out of respect and gratitude.

But she wouldn't take advantage of his generosity any longer. She would speak to Marcus in the morning and start making plans to leave Shaw and live a life of independence.

Brandy woke early the next morning, grateful to straighten her back after a night curled on the couch. She busied herself in the kitchen, making little noise, and greeted Shaw as cheerfully as if they had spent the night together as the ideal couple.

She pretended to ignore his glaring glances, determined to make life as easy as possible for him. She had already interfered enough.

When they were ready to leave the apartment, Brandy offered to drive Eric to school herself, but Shaw wouldn't hear of it. His bright and cheerful attitude for Eric's benefit gave Brandy a slight ray of hope that maybe things could be worked out between them—but one penetratingly suspect glance from Shaw told her not to build pipe dreams.

It was over. She had to face it.

As soon as they left she began calling around town to locate Marcus, but he was nowhere to be found. She ended up leaving messages for him to return her call.

A week had passed before Brandy heard from Marcus. He had been out of town, he explained. In the meantime, Brandy's agent had managed to get her two short modeling assignments, providing her with some money of her own to use toward getting a photographer.

It was fortunate, she decided, that she was beginning to earn a little money again, since Marcus was not as helpful as she had expected him to be.

"Shaw will be livid when he hears what you're up to," Marcus warned.

"I don't understand why." Brandy defended her actions. "It's my life."

"Yes, but he never has exactly approved of your modeling."

"He hasn't told me that," Brandy huffed.

"Have you sat down and talked about it with him?"

"Of course not," Brandy said. Every time they had come near the subject Shaw had skirted the issue, his anger making it impossible for her to discuss it sensibly with him. "Besides, it shouldn't make any difference to him once I leave him."

"Now what are you talking about?" Marcus demanded, his voice so like Shaw's over the phone that Brandy could almost imagine it was he.

"I'm going to leave Shaw. That's what this is all about."

"But you can't leave him!"

"Why not? He doesn't want me."

Marcus laughed, and Brandy wished she could see his face. Was he being cynical or sarcastic? "You don't know him."

"Exactly, but I do know I'm making him miserable and I—I care too much about him to continue inserting myself in his life when he doesn't want me there, no matter how good my intentions have been."

"Brandy," his voice began hysterically, then calmed. "Brandy, let's talk this out. You can't just suddenly remove yourself from his life."

"Why not? I'll leave the way I came." She was grateful she had caught a cold from sleeping in a draft on the couch, at least it had served some purpose. Her thick voice helped disguise her tears.

"But where will you go? What will you do?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead. Right now I just need some money to see a photographer. Then, I can take the photos to a printer, and the composite to an agent, and—"

"I have half a mind to tell Shaw about this," he interrupted.