While She Was Sleeping... (17 page)

He kept his pace leisurely, occasionally closing his eyes, pausing, then back to the easy gentle rhythm. Gradually she relaxed, arousal staying at a steady high simmer, stopped straining for her climax, loosened her grip on his arms and began a slow, sensual exploration of his body, stroking him everywhere she could reach.

In and out, in…and out, his buttock muscles contracting and releasing under her fingers. She resisted urging him on, opened her eyes and locked into his gaze. In spite of the intensity of their connection, physical and emotional, in spite of the feelings surging through her, or maybe because of them, she was finally content to watch him watching her, not a trace of panic, experiencing his slide inside her, the gentle friction he maintained by rolling and twisting his hips.

She had no idea how much time went by, maybe five minutes, maybe half an hour, maybe more. She could have stayed there forever, joined to this man so intimately, candles flickering, soft lake air caressing them through the open windows. Was this love? It didn’t seem that it could be anything else.

Then he kissed her again, gentleness that soon gave way to the inevitable passion she both wanted and didn’t. With
desire’s rise, his pace quickened, his thrusts became longer, harder, deeper. Ecstasy seemed to come at her from a great distance, like a storm’s inevitable approach, closer and closer, more and more power evident, until that second of held-breath anticipation before the roaring rush of wind, thunder and rain.

She didn’t think she’d ever come down, the orgasm went on and on, staying at its peak for an impossibly long time, during which she said his name in her mind over and over, aware of him inhaling sharply and coming to his own release.

When the intense pleasure finally let her go, she lay under him clasped in his arms, becoming dimly aware again of sounds and shapes and light around them.

“Alana.” His voice was deep, quiet, full of longing.

She nodded. She understood.
I love you, too.

She couldn’t say it. Not yet. Too much at stake, too much still to work out. She hoped she’d shown him how she felt in every possible way while they were making love, so tenderly and so silently.

“That was…” He blew out a breath. “I hate the cliché, but I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Me, neither.” Afraid of love? No. She wasn’t. The knowledge sat inside her, precious and shining, she hugged it tightly.

“So…Alana.” Something about the way he said her name this time interrupted her dreamily relaxed mood. “Yeah?”

He rolled off her, grabbed tissues and got rid of the condom with a perfect three-pointer into the trash can across the room, then lay back down and gathered her against his chest. “I’ve got a proposition.”

The rest of her beautiful afterglow fantasy shattered. Oh, no. Not this argument again. She sighed and faked a return smile when he grinned at her. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“I was going to wait to tell you, but you should think this
over for the next few days while you’re here.
If
I let you out of bed long enough.”

She didn’t need to fake the next smile. “O-kay…”

“If I take the job as director of the foundation, which it looks like I will, and if I can get the board of directors to go along with the low-rent studio idea, which I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to, and if Debbie’s partnership is amenable, which I’m sure they will be…” He lifted his eyebrows comically. “You with me?”

“Lots of
ifs.
I got that much.”

“Lots of ifs.” He pushed a hand through his hair, a lock of which ignored his efforts and tumbled back onto his forehead. “The new building…will need a manager.”

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

“You’re not only perfectly qualified for the job, but you’d be around working artists, and, I hope, get some of your soul fed in the process.” His gaze turned sly. “At least better than managing condos in Florida.”

“I’ve already committed myself.” The protest was automatic. How many times had she made it?

“I know. Just think it over. Everything is in the planning stages so far, which accounts for all the ifs. For one, the building wouldn’t be ready to manage for quite some time. It still needs buying and renovating. We’re probably talking over a year. But if you stayed, I could find you work at the foundation. I spoke to my dad. He said the outgoing director is taking staff with him to his new job.”

“I can’t do this.” She struggled onto her elbow. “Gran and Grandad—”

“Are healthier than you think.”

“Even if that’s true, they’re not getting younger.” The argument felt stale and false. Was she really thinking of them? Or was this knee-jerk self-protection?

“I thought they were in their late eighties the way you
talked about them, but your Gran sounded about sixty on the phone.”

Alana swallowed. “She’s seventy. Grandad is seventy-three.”

“They could live another twenty years in perfect health.” He narrowed his eyes but his voice was gentle. “If you don’t want to do it, if there’s some other reason, just say so.”

“It’s not that.” She gestured meaninglessly and let her hand drop on his chest. “I just can’t…I owe them so much. And you and I have known each other such a short time.”

“I know. I’m asking a lot. A whole lot. All the risk would be on your side and that’s not fair. I’m probably being selfish even bringing it up. I just want you to know the option is there, and that nothing would make me happier than if you agreed to stay.” He kissed her, and she responded a little desperately, wishing they could go back to when they were making love and the rest of the world didn’t exist. “I probably should have waited, but I’m so…excited I guess. Like a kid Christmas morning with a present he can’t wait to give someone.”

“That’s very sweet.” She hardly knew what she was saying. He’d been working hard behind the scenes to get her to stay. It felt wonderful…and also invasive. Was this how Melanie felt when Alana tried to guide—aka control—her life? She didn’t like it, no matter how wonderful his intentions.

“But now maybe the present is the wrong size. Or you already have one. Or like the racing car I bought my mom when I was seven, maybe it’s not something you want so much as I do.”

She laughed through the growing anxiety. How could she make a decision like this? Pitting a man she loved but barely knew against grandparents she owed her life to. Ditching important plans she had in place on the whim of a too-new emotion? One thing to decide to stay on an extra day or two. But forever?

“Sawyer, I really don’t see—”

“Shh.” He covered her mouth with her favorite Mute button—his lips. “Don’t think, don’t worry, don’t feel pressure to decide. Just let the idea settle for a while.”

“But I—Mmph.”

He kissed her again, rolled her under him, kissed her some more, long sensual kisses that blotted out any hope of continuing to reason.

But sooner or later she’d need to face up to this decision. She couldn’t keep putting it off by spouting the same arguments for leaving while she’d continued to prolong her stay.

Either way she decided, she’d be choosing happiness, pain and also regret, possibly for the rest of her life.

“O
H, COME ON,
Alana, have a double.” Melanie was already licking her two-scoop turtle sundae frozen custard cone: vanilla custard shot through with gooey thick threads of caramel and hot fudge, mixed with roasted salted pecan pieces. Her sister’s insistence on denying herself pleasure made her insane. “Skip dessert at dinner, it all evens out.”

“Oh, yeah?” Alana turned to the teenager behind the counter at Gilles frozen custard stand, a Wauwatosa institution since 1938, which claimed to be the area’s oldest fast-food restaurant. “I’ll have a double special flavor, too.”

Melanie stopped mid-lick. “You will?”

Holy crapoly. They’d gone through the oh-have-a-double, no-no-I-couldn’t charade for years. Alana had never given in. Sometimes she’d agree to share a sundae, but she always gave up a third of the way into it, boo-hoo, she might put on an entire ounce and a half. Melanie would shrug and inhale the rest herself, annoyed and betrayed. Woman’s code of honor: if you decided to indulge in something bad for you with a friend, you had a solemn responsibility to hang in there to the bitter end.

Today Alana had barely hesitated before giving in. “Wow, what’s gotten into my big sister?”

She shrugged, as if changing a lifetime habit overnight was no big deal. “I just felt like it.”

“So…?”

“So what?” She accepted her cone, paid for hers and Melanie’s.

“So what is different? You’re eating more, looking absurdly happy, humming nonstop, gazing starry-eyed at nothing, gee, let me guess.” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “Tonsilitis?”

“Hmph.” Alana grabbed a few napkins, which Melanie always forgot to do, and they went outside to lean against Alana’s car and enjoy the evening air with their million calories.

“So?”

“Melanie, if you have a question, ask me.” She sounded severe, but couldn’t stop smiling long enough to be convincing.

Melanie was delighted. Envious, but delighted. The Ice Princess had fallen. “You’re finally in love.”

“Finally?” She made an I-don’t-think-so face. “Come on. I’ve been in love before.”

“Nuh-uh.” Melanie caught a drip on her tongue. “Not like this.”

“It’s the infatuation,” Alana explained patiently, as if she was some kind of expert. “Love takes time to emerge from it. I’ve known Sawyer what, a week? Not even?”

“It doesn’t take time when it’s right.”

Alana, predictably, made a face. “Look who’s talking. You’ve fallen ‘in love’ a million times, usually in the first three minutes knowing a guy, and every time you’re sure it’s ‘right.’”

Melanie shook her head. She’d done a lot of thinking in the past few days. A lot. “No, I’ve never been sure.”

Alana deflated midrant. “What do you mean? You always say you are. You even had yourself half-engaged to Sawyer.”

“I know, I know. But deep down? Really deep? I knew they weren’t right. I’ve been thinking about this constantly, Alana, after Edgar brought it up. It makes so much sense. I go for deliberately inappropriate men to keep from having to be serious about any of them. You do it, too.”

Alana started to make her protest noises, the kind she made when she needed to waste time faking outrage while thinking of a comeback. Then, incredibly, she stopped and sighed deeply. “Okay. Maybe.”

Melanie nearly choked on her bite. Maybe? This was serious progress. “If you understand that about yourself, why are you still planning to move to Florida?”

“I agree that I’ve have dated men in the past who couldn’t touch me. But Sawyer isn’t one of them. I’m not moving out of fear. It’s just…bad timing.”

“It’s
miraculous
timing. It’s
meant-to-be
timing. You weren’t even supposed to come up here. How many men like him do you think you’ll meet in your life?”

“Oh, and you’re an expert because…”

“Not because of
him.
Because of
you,
how you’re acting. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re smiling—”

“I smile a lot.”

“—you’re happy—”

“I’ve been happy plenty.”

“—you’re eating a
double cone.
”

“Oh,
that’s
concrete proof. How’s this?” She held up her custard like a beacon, which Melanie loved because Alana was down over one scoop already, and was on course to finish her entire double without a single panic over calories. “I swear by the sacred double cone that I’m not afraid of love.”

Melanie chuckled. Her sister was positively giddy. “Then stay and enjoy it.”

“I can’t.” She lowered the cone, smile drooping. “I can’t change my life based on a few wonderful days.”

“A week. And why not?”

“All my plans. My future. Gran and Grandad—”

“Are not going to kick off in the next few months just because you’re not there. You think they’d want you to turn your back on happiness for their sakes? You’re doing it again, you know, ordering a single cone when you really want a double.”

“Melanie…”

“The only reason you don’t want to stay is because you know he’s The One, so you’re running away as fast as possible.”

More outrage noises. Really good ones. “Why on
earth
would I do that to myself?”

“The same reason I slept with Sledge instead of pursuing someone who made more sense as a partner. But knowledge is power, and I’m changing my strategy.” Melanie tapped her head smugly. “I made a list of everything I want in a guy. Then I crossed off the cosmetic ones. You know—heart-stoppingly gorgeous, loves to dance, penis the size of a salami.”

“Shh.” Alana peered around for anyone close enough to hear, giggling into her hand.

“And you know what I ended up with?” She stopped to let Alana enjoy the suspense, then her throat thickened and she couldn’t make herself say his name.
Come on, Melanie.
“Edgar.”

“What? You’re mumbling.”

“I said…Ed-gar.”

Alana’s eyes shot wide. “
Edgar?
That guy with the beyond-help hair?”

“Beyond-help.” She shook her head sadly, feeling queasy.

“And zero fashion sense?”

“Negative fashion sense. That’s the one.”

“And a girlfriend.” Alana crunched the first bite of her sugar cone. “Which makes him inappropriate, too.”

“I know. Except for that part, though, he’s it.” Her voice was too high. She felt a little itchy.

Alana bit into her cone again. “He does have great eyes, Mel.”

“Great eyes.”

“And his body isn’t bad at all.”

“You noticed that?” She hunched and released her shoulders.

“I’m not dead. And—” Alana pushed hair back the wind had blown across her mouth “—if I didn’t know he had a girlfriend, that one time I saw you together when we had lunch at Christmas, I would have said he’s crazy about you.”

“He’s crazy about Emma.” She laughed too loudly. She wasn’t going to bother mentioning the distinct feeling she got at their last meeting that Alana could be right. Which made no sense, given how devoted he’d seemed to his girlfriend for so long. Maybe they were having problems?

“Have you ever met this Emma person?”

“Nope.” Melanie licked her custard down flat to the cone, her appetite fading fast.

“Maybe he made her up.”

“Ha! That’s crazy.” A hint of panic raised its pesky little head. “He talks about her all the time, stuff they did together, what movies they watched, what she thought of them, her favorite foods. And Sledge knows her. Said she has a lot of black hair.”

“So do skunks.”

Melanie had to cover her mouth to keep from spraying vanilla custard. She liked her sister again today, and that felt good.

“How did that guy get to be named Sledge anyway?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. But…” Melanie leaned confidentially toward Alana, relieved at the subject change. “If you want my opinion, a girlfriend gave him the nickname.”

“What makes you say that.”

“Sledgehammer. In bed. He’s a pounder.”

“Ugh.” Alana wrinkled her nose. “Men like that learned about sex watching porn.”

“And they wonder why real women don’t come, screaming, every five minutes.” Melanie snorted. “‘Because, honey, ya just smashed my pleasure button into numb pulp.’”

Alana nearly choked on her cone. She planted a hand on her chest and let go, laughing until her face turned red and tears ran down her face.

Melanie smiled, experiencing a rush of sisterly love. If Alana would be like this all the time, Melanie wanted her to stay in Milwaukee, too. They could actually have fun together, which they hadn’t managed to since puberty hit. “I wish you wouldn’t go, Alana.”

Alana’s laughter ran out of steam. “Aw, Mel.”

“I’d like the chance to get closer. Six years ago when you left, I know it wasn’t possible, but I feel as if now…”

“I know.” Alana turned to hug her. “You and me?”

“You and me.” Melanie squeezed her hard. She wanted so much for her sister to be happy with Sawyer. And she wouldn’t mind being happy herself. At some point. With someone. They broke apart and leaned back against the car, resumed eating their cones, both crunching now, Melanie feeling relaxed again. Cars rushed by on Blue Mound. Customers came and went.

“What are you going to do about Edgar?”

“Oh. Well.” She couldn’t believe how she was reacting. On paper, her theories about Edgar as a romantic prospect had made so much sense. But sharing them with Alana was nerve-racking. “What are
you
going to do about Sawyer?”

“I’ll think about staying.” She put her hand up when Melanie snorted. “No, I really will, Mel. I even told Sawyer I would when he asked me to stay.”

“He asked you to stay!” She socked her sister on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me? Oh my God, can I be bridesmaid at your wedding?”

“Ha.” Instead of shrieking, Alana actually grinned. “Down, girl. He even lined up a job for me.”

“Wow.
Wow.
” Melanie couldn’t believe it. Sawyer was putting even more pressure on Alana than she was. She felt amateur in comparison. “So I guess you don’t need me nagging you.”

“Especially because it’s my turn to nag. What about Edgar?”

“Oh. I don’t know.” She tried to pretend the last bit of her cone was fascinating while her stomach knotted up again. “I can’t interfere with what he’s got going with Emma.”

“Who in two years you’ve never seen. Why don’t you show up at his place after work? Say you were just in the neighborhood or visiting Sledge. Find out if Edgar has any skunks around.” She started giggling again. “Or, God, what if Emma is
inflatable?
”

Melanie did spray custard that time, but not entirely from being amused. Alana laughed so hard a father and son nearby turned and smiled. Melanie hoped they wouldn’t ask what was so funny.

“Well.” Melanie forced another chuckle, wondering why she hadn’t cracked up as hard as her sister. “There’s a concept.”

“I’m just saying…” Alana shook with a leftover giggle, then got herself back under control by licking the last of the custard off her fingers. “Seriously, go over there, tell him you decided you want to date someone more like him, and does he have any friends. His reaction will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Her stomach gave another unsettling tug. “On one condition.”

Alana froze with her pinky still in her mouth. “Uh-oh.”

“You stay another month.”

“No.”

“Two weeks.”

“Melanie.”

“A week and a half.”

Alana pressed her lips together, but a smile threatened anyway. “Five days.”

“A week, Alana. Come on. He’s worth it.”

“Maybe.”

“Good.” She finished her own cone and pushed away from the car, too twitchy to stand there anymore thinking about men. She wanted to go home, change and jog a few miles, get rid of this restless energy.

Tomorrow she’d visit Edgar after work. It did seem like a sensible idea, and she was trying very hard to be sensible. Plus, having decided to go, she might as well get it over with. She’d pretend to stay late at the office after he went home, or have a drink somewhere first, maybe with Jenny, to give Edgar time to settle in for the evening with Emma. Jenny could give her courage…or stop her by telling her she was crazy. That would work. And be so much easier.

Melanie climbed into Alana’s passenger’s seat, custard still turning traitor in her stomach. Her earlier conviction that this time she had it together and Alana was a mess had broken up and dissolved. She felt like her old messy self again. Hooray.

Alana started the car, pulled onto Blue Mound heading east toward Washington Heights and home. Melanie buckled up and leaned back in her seat, watching the neat rows of houses passing, tense with dread.

What happened if after all this progress it turned out that understanding her problems with men didn’t bring her any closer to fixing them?

M
ELANIE WALKED DOWN
Water Street, taking small precise steps. Six o’clock and she was exhausted. She’d been on time to work that morning, part of her new, more serious leaf-turning-over commitment, but there had been meetings and deadlines and a birthday lunch for Jenny’s cubicle
partner Doreen. Through it all she’d felt like she was high on something, but not pleasantly. Talking to Edgar had been torture, especially because of course he noticed the change and wanted to know what was wrong. She’d asked him about Emma, what had they done the previous evening? Watched TV on the couch, then he went to bed and read. Emma didn’t read? No, she wasn’t much of a reader. What did she do? Took a bath, then came to bed with him.

Emma sounded really boring.

But who was Melanie to judge? She’d gone after romantic thrills her whole life and never managed to be remotely happy.

Another block gone, another one to go; her steps got smaller. She hadn’t found a miracle parking place this time. Was that a bad sign? She didn’t know.

Another half block. His building grew as she got closer.

Maybe he wouldn’t be home?

But then she’d have to come back sometime and that would suck.

She crossed East Erie Street, the last barrier, and made it up the steps to his front door. A few more steps and she was in the foyer, scanning the buzzers for his name. She pushed 3C with a shaky finger. Waited.