From the Beginning (32 page)

“Simon, please,” she said, her hands reaching back to grab on to his ass, to pull him forward into her with one powerful thrust. It was unexpected and shattered the last ounce of restraint he had. He came with a force that nearly brought him to his knees, pulse after pulse of bliss working its way through him while Amanda cried out, her tight, sweet body orgasming around him.

Suddenly exhausted, he let himself rest against her while he tried to get his breath back. After a minute, she started to laugh.

“You nearly killed me and you’re laughing?” he asked, nuzzling her neck. He tried to sound offended, but couldn’t do it with aftershocks of his orgasm still ripping through him.

“I was just thinking. Now that you’ve had dessert, would you like to have the dinner I made you?”

“You made dinner?” He tried to straighten up, but wasn’t sure his legs would fully hold him.

“Mmm-hmm. Lasagna.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” he said, dropping a kiss in the sensitive spot behind her ear.

And then froze as he realized that Amanda had stiffened against him.

EVERY MUSCLE IN AMANDA’S BODY seized up at Simon’s words. Happiness bloomed inside her—it had been almost impossible to get him to admit his feelings for her in the old days, so she cherished the easy way he’d said he loved her.

The only problem was, he’d said it because she’d made him lasagna—and not because he was overwhelmed by his feelings for her. So what did that mean? Did he really love her or was he just using it as an expression, something along the ubiquitous “Love ya, babe” that guys uttered all the time without meaning it.

She tried to tell herself that was it, that he hadn’t meant anything by the words, but suddenly they were all she could think of. Even as Simon eased out of her and she bent to pull her jeans up, the question reverberated in her head like a gong. Did he love her or didn’t he?

And what was she going to do if he didn’t, because as she’d waited for him at the airport, as anxious as a kid on Christmas morning, she’d known that her feelings for him weren’t going away. They were the real deal and she was stuck with them, but that was no guarantee that he felt the same way.

“Well, that went over well,” he said drily as he refastened his own jeans.

She didn’t know how to answer. The words
I love you, too
trembled on her lips, but she didn’t know if she should say them. Didn’t know if he wanted to hear them.

Finally she said, “Did you…” She couldn’t get anything else out, feeling tentative around him for the first time in many years.

He raised an eyebrow in that wicked, wonderful way of his. “Did I mean it? Absolutely, though I suppose saying it in reference to lasagna might not have been my smoothest move.” His words were cool and confident, but she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. It felt strange to realize he was as confused and frightened as she was. But it felt empowering, as well.

Wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could, Amanda said fiercely, “I love you, Simon.”

When she tried to pull back, she couldn’t. He was holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

“I love you, Amanda. More every day I’m around you.”

“Lasagna or no lasagna, that’s good enough for me.” She couldn’t stop smiling.

He finally loosened his grip on her shoulders and stepped away. “Speaking of lasagna…”

She laughed. “Come on. I’ll feed you.”

THE NIGHT PASSED in such a blur that Amanda wondered if she’d be able to remember it all in the morning. Or believe it.

They ate lasagna sitting cross-legged on her kitchen counter, as she still hadn’t found a table that she liked. Simon told her about his time in Lebanon, about the civilians who were displaced, injured or killed.

The children hit him hardest, and she thought back to his last two special reports—documentaries on the children of Afghanistan and the Colombian Andes. She’d watched them both and had been touched by his determination to get better conditions and more help for children who couldn’t help themselves.

Simon had always been interested in stories about children, but since Gabby’s death, it seemed to be his main focus. Another legacy their daughter had left behind.

By the end of dinner, Simon was drooping from jet lag, so she led him upstairs to bed. He drifted off before she did, and for the longest time, Amanda lay next to him and studied him in the dim light from the streetlamp.

He was still as beautiful as the day she’d met him. Time—and grief—had worn more lines in his face, but it looked as if he was going to be one of those men who got better with age. Lucky her.

She reached out a hand to trace his brow, still furrowed in sleep. It smoothed at her touch and she cuddled against him, relishing his warmth despite the steamy Georgia humidity.

She fell asleep like that, holding Simon in her arms, and woke a couple of hours later to find his mouth skimming down her stomach to her sex. He made love to her with a thoroughness that contrasted with his earlier haste and then fell back asleep. Over and over he reached for her through the long night, until she grew concerned that one more orgasm might kill her.

Exhausted, she finally fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened forty-five minutes before she had to be at work by a steaming mug of coffee and a fresh croissant from the bakery down the street.

“You’ll spoil me,” she murmured sleepily, reaching up to give Simon a kiss.

“Better late than never,” he said, his smile a little lopsided and sad.

Which she couldn’t allow—there was no room for sadness or regret in bed with them—so she pulled him down to her and did a much more thorough job of kissing him this time around.

His groan was all the encouragement she needed as she slid slowly down his body to take him in her mouth. “Amanda. I—” Whatever else he was going to say was lost as his hands fiercely gripped her hair.

She stroked his chest, soothed him and then did her best to drive him out of his mind. And judging by his retaliation, she was pretty sure she’d done a good job.

An hour later, she strolled into work, late for the first time since she’d been hired. No one said a word, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was because nothing short of Armageddon could wipe the smile off her face.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AMANDA GLANCED AT THE CLOCK for the fourth time in as many minutes. One more hour. All this week, the days had seemed to drag. The clinic was as busy as usual, but somehow knowing that Simon was waiting for her made the time creep by.

It felt strange to feel like this at her age, especially with a man she’d been involved with in one way or another for the past twelve years. And yet, she wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world.

“Seriously, Amanda, if your grin got any goofier, I’d swear you weren’t in possession of all your faculties.” Lucas shook his head in mock concern as he sat down at the break table to start his own charts. In the past few weeks, they’d fallen into a routine of hanging out together at the end of the day, talking about interesting cases or life or whatever else came to mind.

“Well, we can’t all be dour stoics like yourself, Lucas. But if my happiness offends you, then I will do my best to keep it in check.”

He laughed. “You know one of the things I most admire about you?”

“My incredible bedside manner?”

“Your ability to tell people to go to hell in the calmest, nicest way imaginable.”

“Well, it’s no ‘bless your heart,’ but I try.”

“And you succeed.” He waggled his eyebrows. “So, where’s lover boy taking you tonight?”

“Nowhere.”

“Hmm. He’s cheap, is he?”

That startled a laugh out of her. “No. He promised to help me tile the guest bathroom. We can’t really do that in a restaurant.”

“Touché. How’s your house coming, by the way?”

“Slowly. But it’s coming.”

“Well, if you and lover boy—”

“His name is Simon.”

“Right. Simon. If you and Simon ever need a hand, let me know. Since I broke up with Stacy a few weeks ago, I seem to have an abundance of time on my hands. Especially since I have another doctor on staff who has considerably lightened my load.”

“Yeah, well, it sounds like we need to get you a new girlfriend more than we need to give you a hammer.”

“Um, no,” he said drily. “There is no
we
involved in my search for lover girl. But thanks for being so concerned.”

“You know, my neighbor—”

He put his hands over his ears with a laugh and started saying, “La, la, la, la, la, I can’t hear you,” as loud as he could.

“Okay, okay. I get the picture.”

“I hope so.” His eyes gleamed with interest. “That seems to be what people in love do. They try to set up others so that their whole world is bright and cheery.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do I look like the bright-and-cheery type?”

“Six weeks ago, I would have said no. But lately, yeah. You kind of do. In fact—”

He broke off at the sound of shots being fired. They both leaped to their feet as screams echoed through the building. Amanda rushed to the door, but Lucas grabbed her and slammed her down onto the floor. He was already reaching for his cell phone.

“Stay down,” he hissed at her as he dialed 911. “The shots came from our waiting room.”

“We need to go see if everybody’s okay,” she told him fiercely.

“You need to stay right here until we know if the shooter is gone.” Another shot echoed down the hallway. “There’s no use in you getting killed, too.”

“If someone’s shot, they need a doctor!” He held up a hand to quiet her down. The 911 operator must have come on the line.

As he turned his attention to reporting the shooting spree, Amanda managed to get to the door without him noticing. Still on the floor, she peered down the hall, trying to figure out what was going on.

Latonya was on the floor behind the desk, hands covering her head. The cordless phone they used for the office was on the ground beside her, and Amanda could only hope she, too, had thought to dial 911. It was so much easier to get someone to your door quickly if you called from a landline.

Screams rose from the waiting room. There had been three babies under the age of one and a handful of toddlers, as well as older children and adults.

The only mass shooting she’d seen had happened when she was working in Sierra Leone. “Rebels” had come into the village near the hospital and fired on whoever happened to be standing around. By the time she and the other doctors had gotten to the scene, it was too late. Twenty-seven people were dead.

Please, God, don’t let today be like that. Please, don’t let me walk into that waiting room and see all those people…
She couldn’t even think the word. Instead, she started down the hallway, staying as close to the ground as possible. If she could see what was going on—

Another two shots rang through the clinic, followed by a bunch of vile words spoken in a rough voice. She heard the bells on the door of the clinic open and shut and then everyone started screaming and crying at once.