Nobody's Baby but Mine (22 page)

“No, you’re not.” He poked his head back in the door. “And I
am
taking you to bed.”

She untangled herself from the covers and pushed her nightshirt down as she stood up. “I’m not going to bed with a man who dislikes me.”

“We’ll work on that part of it.”

“We’ve never had a date.”

“We’ve already
done it
twice!”

“That was nothing more than a medical procedure.”

His eyes narrowed.

“We’ve never even kissed,” she went on, driving her point home.

“Now that’s something we can fix real easy.” He advanced on her, a sense of purpose glittering in his eyes.

“Cal, I didn’t mean . . .” She couldn’t go on. She wanted to kiss him.

He encircled her wrists with his hands. The bedpost bumped against her spine. “Consider this a scientific experiment, Professor.”

He leaned forward, drawing her hands behind her back and around the bedpost at the same time. She felt as if she’d been tied to a stake, except his gentle fingers were the only bonds holding her in place.

As he gazed down, her heart gave a nervous kick against her ribs. “Let’s see how you taste.”

His head dipped and his lips brushed hers. They were soft and warm, slightly parted, barely touching. Her eyes drifted shut. She felt as if she were being grazed by a feather and wondered how someone so strong could have such a tender touch.

He continued to tease her with his mouth. The barest brush, the slightest touch. Her senses swirled. She wanted more and she went up on tiptoe, slanting her mouth across his and deepening the kiss.

He drew back. Another graze. A glance.

She leaned into him again, and he nipped her bottom lip. Was that a warning that only the quarterback called the play? Her body throbbed with frustration.

He rewarded her obedience by closing his lips over hers and lightly tracing the bow with the tip of his tongue. She moaned. If he gave this much attention to a simple kiss, what would he do if she let him get to the rest of her?

She couldn’t stand it any longer, and once again she reared up on her tiptoes. This time he didn’t object. The gentle tantalizer disappeared, and he took full possession of what she offered. With his hands occupied shackling hers behind the bedpost, he could only use his mouth on her, and he used it well, filling her with his tongue and leaning into her so she could feel his passion.

She pressed her own body against his and lost herself in a new way of kissing, a mating that was more erotic than any sex act she’d ever experienced. She could be male and female, the possessor and the possessed. She moved her body against him, using it as if she were a snake, rubbing breasts and belly, thighs and hips. Her body burned with the thrill of everything that had been missing for her, and in her passion, she had a brief glimpse of how it might be if they were more to each other than bodies.

She heard a moan, but this time it didn’t come from her. It was hoarse, muffled, urgent. Her hands were suddenly free, while his were on her thighs, sliding beneath her nightshirt.

Oh, yes. She wanted him there.
Hurry. Touch my softest place. My sweetest place.
Her body urged him to boldness while her mind and heart cried out not to give herself so cheaply. She wanted to be courted, to be wooed and won, even if only for her body. Just once in her life, she wanted to feel what other women felt when men pursued them.

His fingers touched the soft curls. “Stop!” Her exclamation sounded as if it were part command, part howl.

“No.”

“I mean it, Cal.” She gasped for breath, struggled for control. “Get your hands out from under my nightshirt.”

“You want me here. You know you do.”

He was still pressed hard against her, and she wished she’d touched him there first, before she’d told him to stop. Just one quick touch so she could see how he felt against her hand. “I want you to stop.”

He jerked away from her. “This is stupid! This is so damn stupid I can’t believe it! The two of us are trapped together in this stinking marriage. We can’t stand each other, and the only consolation we’re going to find is in bed, but you’re too damn stubborn to cooperate!”

He’d proven her point in spades, and she swallowed her hurt so she could let him know it. “I
knew
you didn’t like me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just said it. You just said that
we
can’t stand each other, even though I already said
I
didn’t dislike you. So that leaves you. You just admitted how you felt about me.”

“I did
not
say that.”

“You most assuredly did.”

“Well, I didn’t mean it.”

“Ha!”

“Rosebud . . .”

“Don’t you call me that, you jerk! Sex is just another form of sport to you, isn’t it? Something to do when you’re not on the football field or drinking beer with your buddies. Well, I don’t feel that way about it. You want to have sex with me, fine! You can have sex with me! But on my terms.”

“And exactly what terms are those?”

“You’re going to have to
like
me first! A lot!”

“I already like you a lot!” he roared.

“You are pathetic!” With an exclamation made up of equal parts fury and frustration, she snatched a pillow from the bed, threw it at his head, and flounced back to her bedroom.

Moments later, she heard a loud thud, as if somebody’s fist might very well have connected with a wall.

The Bonner house sat at the top of a steep slope carpeted with ivy and rhododendron. It was a graceful two-story cream stucco topped by a roof of curving pale green Spanish tiles, with the shutters and trim painted the same light green. Cal pulled the Jeep under the porte cochere off to the side, then came around the front to open the door for her.

For a moment his eyes lingered on her legs. He hadn’t commented on her soft, taffy-colored skirt and sweater ensemble, even though she’d rolled the skirt twice at the waistband so that a good three inches of thigh showed through her pale hose. She thought he hadn’t noticed and figured her thirty-four-year-old thighs weren’t any match for all those long-stemmed aerobicized legs he was used to, but now the flicker of admiration in his eyes made her wonder if she’d misjudged.

She couldn’t remember ever being so confused. Last night she’d felt as if she’d run through an entire gamut of emotions with him. When they’d talked in the kitchen, there had been a sense of companionship she’d never expected. There had also been laughter, anger, and lust. Right now, the lust disturbed her most.

“I like your hair,” he said.

She’d left it down, along with abandoning her glasses and taking twice her normal time to apply her makeup. The way his gaze slid over her made her think it was more than just her hair he liked. Then he frowned.

“No funny business tonight, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” She deliberately stuck a burr under his saddle so she’d stop thinking about last night. “Don’t you want to throw your coat over my head to make sure none of the neighbors get a good look at me? Now what am I saying? If any of them spot me, you can just tell them I’m the mother of one of your girlfriends.”

He grabbed her arm and steered her toward the front door. “One of these days I’m going to slap a piece of duct tape right over that smart mouth of yours.”

“Impossible. You’ll already be dead. I spotted an electric hedge trimmer in the garage.”

“Then I’m going to tie you up, toss you in a closet, throw in a dozen rats crazed from hunger, and lock the door.”

She lifted her eyebrow. “Very good.”

He grunted and opened the front door.

“We’re in here,” Lynn called out.

Cal led her into a beautifully decorated living room done almost entirely in white, with accent pieces in peach and soft mint green. Jane barely had a chance to take it in before her attention was caught by one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.

“Jane, this is my brother Ethan.”

He walked forward, took her hand, and looked down at her through kind blue eyes. “Hello, Jane. We finally meet.”

She could feel herself melting, and she was so surprised by her reaction to him that she barely managed to acknowledge his greeting. Could this blond-haired, finely chiseled, soft-spoken man really be Cal’s brother? Gazing into his eyes, she felt the same swell of emotion she sometimes experienced when she saw a newborn baby or a photograph of Mother Teresa. She found herself sneaking a glance at Cal, just to see if she’d missed something.

He shrugged. “Don’t look at me. None of us can figure it out.”

“We think he might be a changeling.” Lynn rose from the couch. “He’s the family embarrassment. Goodness knows, the rest of us have a list of sins a mile long, but he makes us look even worse in comparison.”

“For very good reason.” Ethan regarded Jane with absolute sincerity. “They’re all the spawn of Satan.”

By now Jane had more than a passing acquaintance with the Bonner sense of humor. “And you probably mug old ladies in your spare time.”

Ethan laughed and turned to his brother. “You finally caught yourself a live one.”

Cal muttered something inaudible, then glared at her with a silent reminder that she was supposed to be alienating everybody, not buddying up. She hadn’t forgotten, but neither had she let herself think too much about that part of it.

“Your father had a delivery,” Lynn said, “but he should be back any minute now. Betsy Woods’s third. You remember; she was your first prom date. I think your father has delivered the babies of every old girlfriend any of you boys ever had.”

“Dad took over the practice from his own father,” Ethan explained. “For a long time Dad was the only doctor around here. He’s got help now, but he still works too hard.”

The discussion reminded her that she needed to find a doctor soon. And it wouldn’t be Jim Bonner.

As if she’d conjured him, he appeared in the archway. He looked rumpled and tired, and Jane saw an expression of concern flicker across Lynn’s features.

As Jim came into the room, his big voice boomed. “How come nobody has a drink?”

“I have a pitcher of margaritas waiting in the kitchen.” Lynn’s forehead smoothed, and she moved toward the door.

“We’ll come with you,” Jim said. “I can’t stand this room, not since you and that fancy decorator ruined it. All this white makes me feel as if I can’t sit down.”

Jane thought the room was lovely and found Jim’s remark uncalled-for. The four of them followed Lynn into the kitchen, whose warm pine and tasteful accessories gave it a cozy country charm. Jane wondered how Cal could stand their own garish house after being raised in such a comfortable place.

Jim shoved a beer at his son, then turned to Jane. “Would you like a margarita?”

“I’d rather have a soft drink.”

“Baptist?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you a teetotaler?”

“No.”

“We have some nice white wine in the house. Amber’s made herself over into something of a wine expert, haven’t you, honey?” His words sounded like those of a proud husband, but their bite told a different story.

“That’s enough, Dad.” Cal’s voice held a touch of steel. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I want it to stop.”

His father straightened, and their eyes clashed. Although Cal’s posture remained relaxed, the hard glint in his eyes warned his father that he’d stepped over the line.

Jim obviously wasn’t used to having anyone challenge his authority, but Cal didn’t show the slightest inclination to back down. She remembered that only yesterday he’d denied that anything was wrong with his parents’ marriage.

Ethan broke in with a request for a beer and a casual remark about a town council meeting. He must be the family peacemaker. Tensions eased, and Lynn asked Jane about her morning with Annie. Jane heard the coolness in her voice and knew she must be wondering why her new daughter-in-law had so much time to spend helping her mother put in a garden but refused to spare a few hours for sightseeing with her.

Jane glanced at Cal. She saw an expression of resignation in his face. He didn’t expect her to keep her word.

She felt a moment of sadness, but it did no good wishing for the impossible when she knew she owed him this. “It’s been a bother, but don’t tell her that. She simply doesn’t understand that every hour she pulls me away from my research is an hour I can never regain.”

There was a moment of strained silence. Jane refused to look at Cal. She didn’t want to see his relief as she embarrassed herself in front of his family. With a sense of dread, she turned the screw. “I know her garden is important to her, but, really, it hardly compares with the work I’m doing. I tried to explain that to her, but she’s so . . . I don’t mean to imply she’s ignorant, but, let’s be frank, her understanding of complex issues is limited.”