Someone To Believe In (18 page)

He just held her. Cupped the back of her
neck. She let him.

Finally, he said, “How much time do we
have?”

“Um, a little longer than I thought.”

“Really?” He half expected her to bolt out of
here after what had just happened.

“Rory was invited to a friend’s house for
lunch after preschool. I don’t have to pick him up until two.”

“Well, that makes my day,” he said. “Four
more hours.”

“Mmm. Whatever will we do?”

“Oh, we’ll think of something.”

He ordered food first. When it came, they
were still cuddling in bed. He threw on his jeans, got the cart
and wheeled it into the room. She was sitting up in bed looking
like a present that had just been unwrapped. He had to close his
eyes not to dive right back in. He managed to control himself.

“What did you get? I’m starved.”

“I’m not surprised. We worked up quite an
appetite.”

“Are you bragging, Senator?”

A loud pop. He poured the champagne and
turned to hand her a glass. “A bit, I guess.”

She looked at the flute. “It’s ten o’clock in
the morning, Clay.”

He clinked their glasses. “I know. To...” He
arched a brow. “Just sex.”

Her eyes narrowed, she raised the glass to
her lips.

Then he reached over and plucked a strawberry
out of the bowl. “Open up,” he said, and she bit into it. He felt
the gesture in the pit of his stomach. She nibbled on the rest of
it, and tantalized him more in the process.

“What’s that?” She nodded to a basket as she
sipped more champagne. He drew out a flaky croissant. “Oh, God, I
love those.” She reached for it.

“Nope.” He held the roll to her mouth and fed
her.

“Mmm, it’s still warm.”

He saved the best for last. Triple chocolate
almond ice cream, which he fed alternately to her and to himself,
stopping occasionally to lick the chocolate from the corner of her
mouth. The ice cold creamy confection tasted almost as sinful as
she did.

By the time the impromptu meal ended, her
nipples were beading against the sheet. He brushed them with his
knuckles. “See, that was just sex, too.”

Lazing back into the pillows, she sighed. “If
you say so, Senator.”

SHE’D ASKED, “WHAT have you always wanted to
do with a woman and never done?”

That’s how they’d ended up here, in front of
the mirror, surrounded by the scent of vanilla candles that he’d
brought with him and lit all around the room. It was nearly noon,
and she faced the beveled oval glass, while he stood behind her. “I
want you to watch me fondle you.” His voice was gravelly, even to
his own ears.

“Hmm.”

His hand seemed huge, kneading her breasts.
When he took the nipple between two fingers, she closed her eyes.
“No, no, watch.”

Her arm went up and around his neck, plumping
her breasts even more. “Clay...”

He worked the other breast.

He nibbled on her ear.

He kneaded her waist then let his hand drift
lower. His eyes held hers in the glass. The blue of hers deepened
to the color of midnight as he grazed her curls with his knuckles.
“Clay, please ...”

“All right, but watch yourself come. For me,
Bailey. Come for me.”

“I HAD NO idea you could be so kinky.”

“It’s not kinky.”

“My wrists are tied to the headboard of the
bed. Call me old-fashioned, but to me that’s kinky.”

“You could pull them free. I knotted our
belts loose.” She looked down from where she straddled him.
Suddenly she was embarrassed. “You don’t like this, do you?”

“Are you kidding? I love it.” He grinned.
“Besides, turnabout’s fair play. I got my fantasy, you get
yours.”

“All I wanted was free access to your
body.”

“It’s a tough job, Bailey, but somebody’s got
to do it.”

“At least I didn’t ask to beat your
butt.”

“Oh my God. You’re not into
that
are you?”

She shivered. “Not in the least. I just like
you powerless.”

“A Park Avenue shrink could do wonders with
that.”

She felt a blush rise up from her neck to her
face. “I never, you know, did this with anyone.”

His gaze was hot and intense, accented by the
burned-low, but still-flickering candles. “Good. I want everything
between us to be new.”

That worried her, but it was too much of a
temptation not to enact her secret fantasies when he asked to
return the favor. After all, this was just sex. Good sex,
though.

In fifteen minutes, his body was swollen from
her hands and mouth. Still, he didn’t release the bonds. He pleaded
though, “Bailey, enough...” then he demanded “Now, Bailey, I mean
it or I’m stopping this game...” and finally, he broke his hands
free, impaled her on him and came instantly with volcanic
force.

Of course, she did too, so it was okay with
her.

“THIS ISN’T JUST sex. “

His eyebrows rose innocently. “It’s physical;
we’re sharing a bathtub together.” He sipped his champagne. “Come
on, tell me what you’ll do with Rory today.”

She scooped up some bubbles and blew
them into the air. He’d brought the bath things along with the
candles this morning. “I’m taking him and Dylan’s son Hogan to the
movies to see
Shrek 3
.” She
sighed.

“What?”

“Rory wants to see the musical
Seussical
, but I can’t swing the
tickets. I’m going to work some extra shifts at the pub on weekends
so maybe we can go for his birthday.”

“When’s that?”

“September twenty-first.” She watched him.
“Are things going all right with Jon? You said you were having
dinner with him.”

“We haven’t seen each other since the fiasco
with Lawson. I’m hoping to mend some fences.”

“He’s only twenty, Clay. He’s still trying to
find his way separate from you.”

“I know.” His look turned playful and he set
his glass on the rim of the huge tub and grasped her foot. “Here,
lift up.” He drew her leg out of the water and reached for the soap
and a loofah that was on the edge of the tub. He began to wash her
leg, scrubbing the rough sponge over it.

“Hmm.” After a moment, she asked, “Will the
party for your father be fun?”

“More like a command performance. It’s at the
Pierre Hotel. Legions of friends and political acquaintances will
be there. “

“How long was he a senator?”

“Twenty years.”

“Tell me about your childhood.”

“I already did that, the night we first made
love. Lift the other leg.”

She did and sank back against the bath
pillow. Closing her eyes to relish the steamy water and his
decadent ministrations, she said, “Tell me specifics about it.”

“It’s such a cliché. Typical rich-kid stuff.
A series of nannies. My mother’s charity and political-wife
career. My father not home. “

“I’m sorry.”

“Yours was fun, I’ll bet.”

She opened her eyes. “With four brothers?
What do you think?”

“I think they treated you like a
princess.”

Bailey laughed. Hard. From the gut. By the
time she was done telling him about how they wouldn’t let her cross
the street alone until she was ten, how they hung up on boyfriends
when she was a teenager, and checked her drawers for birth control,
drugs, or even guys’ phone numbers when she was home from college,
he was laughing, too.

This time warmth spread through her,
but not the sexual kind. The
I-want-to-get-to-know-you
kind. The
wow-it’s-great-to-be-together
kind.
The
I-can-believe-in-you
kind.

No, no, no, this wasn’t going to happen. As
nonchalantly as she could, she sat up. “Look, it’s getting late. I
have to leave.”

His gaze was piercing. “What’s the matter,
Bailey? Enjoying my company too much?” It was hard to conceive
that he could look and sound so superior while he was lounging
naked in a tub. But he did.

“Maybe I am. If that’s the case, it should
stop now.”

She went to stand but he grabbed her around
the waist and pulled her down so she was straddling him. The water
rose and sloshed over the side. “Maybe it shouldn’t stop.”

“I can’t have a relationship with you,
Clay.”

This time he was rough. He dragged her head
down and gave her a bruising kiss. Afterwards, he said, “The hell
you can’t.”

Quickly, she drew back and managed to get out
of the tub without slipping and breaking her neck. As she dressed
in the bedroom, she heard the water drain in the bathtub, and
caught a glimpse of him in the mirror dropping towels to the wet
floor.

When he came out, dressed in a white robe,
flushed from the heat of the bath, she was fully clothed.

He watched her slip into shoes and grab
her purse. She headed for the door but when she reached it, she
couldn’t leave without saying anything, so she turned around. He
was leaning against the archway of the bathroom, his shoulder
jutted up against it, his arms crossed over his chest. And her
breath caught at the sight of him. Not just because of how
incredibly sexy he looked, but because of what they’d done
together in this room. Unwittingly, it had forged a bond between
them, and she knew
he
knew she
recognized that. “I’m sorry, Clay. This just can’t
happen.”

“It already has.”

“No, no, up until the bath, it was just
sex.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

She lifted her chin. “I say that it was.”

“Fine,” he said smugly. “Then we can do it
again.”

ON FRIDAY NIGHT, Taz startled awake. She’d
heard something. Shit, she was in a house full of people, of
course she heard something. Still, she listened. Whispers. Jesus,
the skunk girls were at it again. She rolled over. Then a voice at
her ear. “Help, please.” It sounded like a little girl. “Sister
Marion’s in trouble.”

Taz flipped over. Nobody was there.

For a minute, she lay in bed, then got up and
stumbled into her shoes. She wore pj bottoms and a T-shirt. She
stuck her cell and watch in her pocket, then, for some reason, she
reached in her backpack for her blade. You weren’t supposed to be
carrying in a shelter, but any home girl worth her salt was always
equipped.

She crossed the room. Seemed like everybody
else was asleep. As she crept out to the hall, she heard something
again. This time it was a moan. She followed the sound.

The living area was big. She could see it in
the moonlight. TV. Couches. Two chairs. A lump on the floor. Fuck!
She crossed to a lamp and switched it on. “Goddamn!” She rushed to
the body. Sister Marion. A big statue lay on the floor. She
recognized it as the Virgin Mary. She reached for it, when the
overhead lights went on.

“Oh my God, what’d you do?” The skunk sisters
were lined up looking as innocent as Jesus.

Taz stared at them, realizing she’d been
had.

TEN

“YOU’RE DIFFERENT TONIGHT, Dad.” Jon sat
across from him at a rib place in the city and sipped a Coke while
his father nursed a beer. “You look...relaxed.”

His dad glanced away. “Do I? I took it easy
today.”

“No, it’s more than that.” He smiled; going
with safe subjects was a good idea. “Things cool with Jane?”

“Not exactly.” He stared over Jon’s shoulder.
“That relationship is lacking something. “

“She’s a little stiff. But I thought you
liked your women sewn up tight.”

“I thought I did, too.” Again a faraway look
in his eye. “Not anymore, I guess.”

Holy shit! Was Clayton Wainwright mooning
over a woman? It couldn’t be. “Is there somebody else?”

His father hesitated. “Not really. I don’t
know. Maybe. It’s complicated.” He grinned at Jon. “How about you?
That little blonde I saw you with at Bard seemed pretty
interested.”

“Yeah, I like Alice. She’s terrific.”

Their orders came and they dug into the
barbeque ribs and spicy fries. Usually his father didn’t eat high
cholesterol food.

When they were done, Jon decided to take the
bull by the horns. “When you were at Bard? What we fought
over?”

“Yes?” His father hadn’t brought it up,
probably to keep peace, but things had to be said.

“I’m sorry for what I did, going to Lawson’s
meeting. It could be really bad publicity for you.”

“Fuck the publicity. It hurt, Jon.”

Hurt? His father? “Jeez, Dad, never heard you
talk like that.”

“The swearing? Sorry.”

“No, that family was more important than
politics.”

Now his dad looked like Jon had kicked him in
the nuts.

“I’ve really messed things up with you then.
You are much more important to me than politics. My relationship
with you is.”

“Thanks, Dad.” He rolled his eyes. “Alice had
a fit when I told her what I did. So did that woman I met
there.”

His father’s eyes sparked. “What woman?”

“The Street Angel. Lawson thought she’d get a
kick out of seeing me at his meeting, but she reamed me out
good.”

“I think Bailey knows the importance of
family.”

“Bailey? How well do you know her, Dad?”

“We have a history together. You know about
my role in her going to jail?”

“Yeah, sure. And she takes you on in the
press whenever she gets a chance.”

His father picked up a leftover French fry
and nibbled it. “We’re on a committee together now, so recently
I’ve had some contact with her.”

“She’s a looker.”

“Is she?”

“Yeah, and young.”

“She’s thirty-six.”

“She married?”

“No, but she has a son.” He shifted in his
seat.