More Than Friends (51 page)

The doorbell rang. She knew it was Grady well before she opened the door, could feel him in the air, in the way her heart beat that little bit faster and her cheeks warmed. The intense look on his face accelerated her response.

"Are you alone?" he asked in a low voice.

She nodded. "The kids are with J.D. I don't expect them back until ten." It was eight.

He came in and closed the door. Silently he took her hand, studying the ring less fingers for a minute. Then, while her heart beat faster, he led her up the stairs. He went all the way down the hall to her bedroom and once there, drew the covers back from the bed. Pushing his fingers into her hair, he held her face

for a devouring kiss. Hunger was heavy on his tongue, and arousing. Teke never considered resistance. Her anger was long gone, and as for her fear, she figured it was absurd. He wouldn't leave her. He hadn't left her in the first place. He had been taken from her. There was a difference. But none of that was relevant to the moment. She had been wanting him for months, needing him for years. Grady was part of who she was. He was her completion.

He kept his mouth on her--on her lips, her ear, her neck--while he removed his clothes. He tossed one piece after another aside, each in a different direction in a claiming of turf with which Teke found no fault. J.D. had shared this bedroom with her for nineteen years, but his stay was done. Teke couldn't think of a more appropriate place for Grady and her to make love.

After sending her robe puddling at her feet, he brought her body hard to his. She cried out at the pleasure, which was strong and stunning and such an incredible relief that she cried out again, this time into his mouth, which had captured hers again. Stretching, she twined her arms around his neck, sliding her bare skin against him in an effort to feel as much as she could. He was home, he was haven, he was heaven. Heaven was the last conscious thought she had, because sensation took over then. She sensed the cool of the sheets against her back, the heat of Grady's body against her front, the texture of his torso and limbs against her smoothness, the hugeness of him between her legs. Sounds came from her throat, but all she heard was desperation, and it was without shame. She loved Grady. She adored Grady. She worshiped Grady. Since she was ten. Never changed.

Grady inside her was like no other experience in

her life. It was shattering and resurrecting, stroking and burning, building to the kind of climax some women killed for. She would have happily died herself, just then, if only to keep him inside forever. It wasn't physically possible, of course. After releases that brought simultaneous cries and near endless spasms, he sank down over her, let his breathing slow, then slipped to the side.

With a hand that trembled, he smoothed her hair back from the dampness of her face. "My Teke," he whispered.

She smiled, caught his hand, pressed it to her mouth.

Still whispering, he said, "You're in my blood. Have been since you were ten and standing there with a bandage 'round your leg looking scared. I need to take care of you. I think I was born for that." After taking care of others for so many years, she felt a new burst of warmth inside. She rolled to face him and used her fingertip to trace his nose, his mouth, his collarbone. His body entranced her. It had been through so much in the years since she had seen it last. Still, it was strong and dignified. And virile enough to put all other men to shame.

"I want you, Teke."

She grinned. "You have me."

"More. I want you more. Are you still afraid?" She shook her head. "How can I be afraid, when this is so nice?"

"Still angry I sent you from Gullen?"

"That was then. This is now."

"How do you know I won't leave you again?"

"Because you didn't leave when Michael was sick. And you didn't leave when J.D. stayed on your back. Besides," she added with a smile, feeling smugly a woman and stronger than ever before, "I wouldn't let you go this time. I'd fight back."

A grin played with the corner of his mouth. "You would, huh?"

"You bet."

"Will you marry me?"

Happiness bloomed. "You bet. But where'll we live?"

"Here in Constance. There's plenty of work for me here."

"I'm asking J.D. for the house. Would you live in it?"

"Maybe."

"In my house?" she teased.

"I just made it mine," he said with an arrogance that reminded her of J.D." only, so, so much nicer.

"What about kids?" she asked.

"I want yours."

"I want yours."

"Shelley?"

"And ours."

There was an audible catch in his breath, then a soft, "Can we?"

"Lord, I hope so."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"It's what I was made for." She ran a hand down his body, drew it back up his thigh and inward. He wanted her again. She wouldn't have trouble conceiving. There was an open spot in her just waiting for Grady. And his child. And hers. And theirs. Such a rich, rich life. She was blessed.

twenty

beginning of March. After phoning Annie with the news, he strode down the hall of the firm as he had done five months before to share exciting news with his best friend. He still considered J.D. that. Twenty two years of a relationship couldn't be wiped out in a few careless minutes. With J.D. heading for Florida and Sam for the courthouse, they would never be as close as they had once been. But J.D. was part of who Sam was. He liked to think the reverse was true.

J.D. shook his hand when Sam gave him the news. "It's what you want," he said. "Congratulations."

"I couldn't have done it without you."

"Maybe not," J.D. said with an arrogant smile. "I just hope you won't be bored."

Sam hoped not, too. He was used to working a courtroom, not sitting back and watching it be worked by others. A judge's job was more passive than what he was used to. Now that the appointment was a reality, he hoped it was the right thing. "I have the option to stay for life, but there's no requirement that I do. If I start going bonkers, I'll resign."

"John Stewart will not be pleased that you got the appointment," J.D. said. His smile had become a mischievous grin not unlike the one he had produced twenty-some years earlier when Sam had convinced him to miss a week's worth of classes for the sake of experiencing Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

Sam grinned back. "I don't figure he will be. Thanks for keeping him in line." He didn't know how J.D. had done it and wouldn't put him on the spot by asking, but it was the only thing that made sense. John Stewart had been determined that Sam not get the job, and he was a tough man to thwart. J.D. had thwarted him all right. Sam was not only grateful, but proud of his friend. "Now, if you could do something about Michael..."

"Ann, Michael. Michael has a mind of his own."

"Does he talk to you about me?"

J.D. shook his head.

Sam sighed. "Maybe he'll be impressed enough with the "Your Honor'

business to lay down the hatchet. I really miss him. I'd like to keep an eye on him once you move south. When will that be?"

"April fifteenth, give or take. I bought a great place with a private patio and swimming pool. The kids will love it."

"I bet," Sam said. Zoe had already told him about the pool. Jana wanted her down as soon as J.D. moved in. Poor Zoe was convinced that the invitation came only because Jana didn't dare inflict J.D. on any other of her friends, and Sam couldn't deny the possibility of that. But he suspected more was at work. Zoe and Jana had a history, just like Sam and J.D. "My swearing-in is in a couple of weeks," Sam said.

"Will you come?"

"If I can. Let me know when they set the date." Sam promised he would. He left J.D. and went

home to celebrate with Annie and the kids. The following evening he walked through the woods to the Maxwells' house. He carried a large package for Michael, who was doing homework in the sunroom when he arrived. "What subject?" he asked, looking over the boy's shoulder. Once, Michael would have put his homework aside the instant Sam walked in. Now he said, "Math," and went on with his work. Sam noted that his handwriting had improved. "How's it coming?"

"Fine."

"How're you feeling?"

"Okay."

"When do you think you'll go back to school?"

"I don't know."

"The thought of it must be a little scary."

"A little."

"Anything is, at first, when you've been away from it for a while. You dread it for days. When you finally do it, you find it isn't half as bad as you thought it'd be."

Michael shot him a dry look.

"Sorry." Sam hated to sermonize. "But you have to be back at school if you want to play baseball. Tryouts will be starting in another month."

Michael was horrified by the suggestion. "I can't play."

"Sure you can. There's nothing wrong with your eye or your instinct, and those are the two most important things."

"I can't run."

"From what I hear, you do pretty well when you want to. Besides, a pinch runner can round the bases for you until your legs are back in shape. That's what they do in the majors when a slugger can't run." Michael returned to his math. "Who says I can still hit?" Sam gave the boy a once-over. "You may be rusty, but it'll come back. My guess is that with all the therapy you've been doing, it'll come back better than ever. While the rest of the guys have been running up and down a basketball court, you've been lifting weights."

"It's physical therapy."

"It's pumping iron. You're taller than you were last season. You're broader in the shoulders. I'll take you out hitting any time you want." He held his breath.

"No, thanks."

"You won't know until you try."

"I'll wait."

Sam released the breath He wasn't sure how to reach the boy, but it wasn't for lack of trying. With a thunk, he set the package he carried on top of Michael's homework.

Michael sat back. "What's this?"

"Open it and see."

After a short pause, Michael tore at the brown paper wrapping. He had little more than a swath of it off when his face came alive with an excitement that made Sam's efforts well worth while. The rest of the paper came off to reveal the editing deck and controller that Michael had been wanting.

"It's nice," the boy said without looking up. "Is it a bribe?"

"Yes," Sam said without a qualm. "I want you to do the video for my swearing-in and the reception afterward. How 'bout it?" Michael moved his hand reverently along the outside of the box. "I can't handle a camcorder and crutches, too."

"Then leave the crutches at home."

"I need them."

"Do you?" Sam asked. He knew Michael didn't. His tone of voice said that. "I can help you set this up, if you want. My parents would love to have a tape to bring back home with them. Same with Annie's dad. So. What do you say? Will you come?"

"I don't think so."

"I'd really like you to." He draped an arm around Michael's shoulders and gave him an affectionate shake. "Come on, Mike. You can't stay mad at me forever. I miss the time we used to spend together. Your dad's going to Florida, Jon's getting married, who am I gonna play ball with if not you?"

"You'll find someone."

"I want you."

When Michael didn't respond, Sam took a deep breath and straightened.

"Okay. I'll give you a little more time, but only until my swearing-in. I want you there, Michael. It's a big day in my life. I want everyone I love to be there."

"My mom will be there."

Sam ignored the hint of something untoward existing between them. "Yup, your mom and your sisters, and my kids, and my wife, and my parents, and Papa Pete, and all our friends. But I want you there, Michael. Try?" Giving his shoulder a final squeeze and a pat, he left the boy to his thoughts.

Teke did everything she could to convince Michael to attend the swearing-in. She saw it as a milestone, the start of something new for them all. She knew that in twenty years he wouldn't remember whether he had gone back to school in March or April, but he would remember whether he had gone to Sam's swearing-in. She didn't want him staying away and regretting it later.

But he wouldn't listen to reason. She tried every argument. She had Grady try, thinking for sure that would help. Michael looked up to Grady much the way he had to Sam. In the end she realized that was part of the problem. As far as Michael was concerned, since he had Grady he didn't need Sam.

Finally she appealed to J.D. "He'll listen to you. Talk with him. He's being stubborn."

"I'm not good at talking to the kids."

"But you're the only one who can feel what he is. You were just as hurt by everything that happened as Michael was."

He shrugged. "I've come out ahead."

Teke knew that J.D."s pride wouldn't let him admit he had been hurt, and yes, he had come out ahead in terms of standing on his own two feet. But she needed his help. It struck her that with regard to emotions, it was one of the few times she ever had.

"Sam betrayed you, just like he betrayed Michael," she said. "In that sense, what you say carries more weight than what I say." J.D. took his time considering her plea. He looked legitimately contemplative, which was something new on the home front. Without Teke to mother him, or Sam to calm him, or Annie to buffer whatever emotions raged, he seemed to be taking responsibility for himself. It was good, she thought. The part of her that wanted to remain J.D."s friend was pleased.

J.D. agreed to talk with Michael, not so much to get him to attend the swearing-in as to prove to himself that he could rise above what his father was. John Stewart believed that when a person wronged you, you punished him by withdrawing your favors

and writing him out of your life. That was what he'd done to Sam. But J.D. believed that vindictiveness could be carried to extremes. Barring one instance, Sam had been a loyal friend. His good points were better than good. They were fine and admirable, not the least of them relating to his affection for Michael.

He found the boy in his bedroom, which was upstairs again, now that climbing the stairs had been deemed crucial therapy. The place was a mess--thank you, Teke, J.D. thought dryly. After stepping over a towel damp from the shower, he positioned himself between the television set and his son. "We have to talk."