These Arms of Mine Page 12

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The hell you don’t!” His grip tightened on her.

  “I don’t want to talk about this.” Her heart was pounding frantically—surely he must hear it.

  “Well, I do!” His fingers tightened on her flesh to the point of bruising. “Tell me!”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head slowly, trying unsuccessfully to free herself.

  “Don’t give me that, Alesha. Dammit, you owe me the truth!”

  She had never seen him this angry, and she hoped she never would again.

  “I don’t…” The pure rage in his eyes halted her words.

  “Tell me!” He shook her slightly.

  “You frightened me!” she blurted out and almost fell as he suddenly released her.

  “Frightened you?” He stood and looked as if she had struck him.

  “Yes.” She rubbed her throbbing arms.

  “How?” That one word was spoken tightly and contained a multitude of anger and pain.

  She moistened her lips and met his incredulous gaze. “We had only known each other for a short time, yet what I felt for you, what I sensed you felt for me, was so intense. You consumed my every waking and sleeping thought. I was saturated with you. I—I just couldn’t handle it anymore.”

  “So you let me believe you had just been passing time with me, playing with my emotions while your lover was out of town?” He shook his head disbelievingly.

  “I never meant to do that.” Her eyes and voice pleaded with him to believe her.

  “But that’s what you did!”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You didn’t have a choice?” He stared at her as he tried to comprehend her statement.

  “You wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said softly, resuming her seat on the bench. “When you came to my apartment that morning and found Kevin there, one look in your eyes and I knew what you were thinking and I let you think we were lovers because it meant I wouldn’t see you again.” With difficulty, she recounted the event that had sealed their fate.

  “And that’s what you wanted?”

  It wasn’t the chilliness of the day that sent a shiver down her spine, but rather his frigid eyes as he tried to comprehend what she was saying. No, it wasn’t what she had wanted at all, but at the time she had thought it was the only option available to her—now she wasn’t so sure.

  “That’s what I needed.”

  “What you did to both our lives is a crime.” His voice was angry, tired and sad.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she miserably whispered.

  “Yes, you did. But for whatever reason, you made the wrong one.”

  His voice was colder than she had ever heard it and, unfortunately, it was directed toward her. Her actions had made perfect sense to her two years ago, but right now she agreed with his assertion.

  “I did what I had to do.”

  Even as she said the words, she didn’t believe them. She deliberately didn’t tell him the rest of the story. Why, she didn’t know—perhaps because she now doubted her fateful choices, as well.

  He opened his mouth to ask one of the thousand questions that he still had, yet closed it again. He turned away as if the sight of her disgusted him and lifted his eyes heavenward. She wanted to say something—anything—but there was nothing she could say, so she remained silent. After long minutes, he turned and gazed at her again.

  “Do you know what your rejection taught me?” His voice held an eerie aloofness, which his eyes now echoed.

  “What?” She was not sure she really wanted to hear his response.

  “That love doesn’t exist. It’s just a pretty word people use to get others to do what they want.” He smiled without humor.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  Her heart contracted at his cold assertion. She had seen a soft and passionate side to him only a few hours ago. The man she knew he was didn’t at all fit with the callous picture he was painting for her now.

  “I assure you I do.”

  He stared at her as if he didn’t know her, and it was the loneliest she had ever felt in his presence. She forced herself to remain expressionless, but his words hurt—more than she would have thought possible. She understood his feelings and agreed with them. Honestly, she didn’t understand her actions herself, anymore—how in the world could she expect him to?

  She stood up suddenly. “I’m ready to go back now.”

  He looked at her strangely before following her as she retraced their steps back to the house. Both were silent as they walked side by side, neither looking at the other, but rather glancing straight ahead contemplatively. When they entered the house, the phone was ringing. Derrick answered it angrily and she stood in the hallway, waiting for him to finish. As he hung up the headset, he told her he had to drive into the city to meet with Cam.

  “Do you have to go?”

  She should be happy for a respite from his anger, but she wasn’t. She hated leaving things as they were between them, even though she had no idea how to repair the damage her lies had inflicted.

  “Politics never sleeps.” He glanced at her oddly before shrugging and promising, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back tonight.”

  “Will you?” Her question was spoken so softly, he thought he had imagined hearing it.

  Though he was still upset with her, unable to resist, he placed a hand under her chin and lifted her mouth to his. He kissed her and she returned the kiss, her hands tentatively resting on his shoulders. Though their mouths ate voraciously, he purposefully kept their bodies apart, because if they touched intimately, both knew they wouldn’t stop with just a kiss. After long, fulfilling moments, his mouth slowly released hers and he walked to the door.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  She sighed heavily. He might hate her for what she had done in the past, but clearly he still wanted her. That was something, wasn’t it? Perhaps they could rebuild some semblance of a civil relationship on that. She hoped so, just as she prayed one day he wouldn’t look at her with veiled anger and disappointment in his eyes.

  Chapter 9

  After Derrick left, she wandered around the study before choosing a lengthy murder mystery to read. Before she knew it, she had finished the novel and it was after 6:30 p.m.

  She fixed herself a snack then returned to the study, turned on the television and found to her delight that Casablanca was on. It was one of her favorite movies. Shortly thereafter, a loud clap of thunder rattled overhead. She walked to the window and opened the blinds. To her amazement, ominous clouds loomed in the sky and streaks of lightning could be seen in the horizon.

  The out-of-season storm had blown in without warning. She didn’t mind, though—there was nothing she liked better than a good movie and a thunderstorm. Walking back to the television, she turned up the volume to drown out the thunder and sat down again with her feet curled under her. Some minutes later, lightning lit up the room, there was a particularly violent clap of thunder and the TV went black, as did the lamp on the table beside her.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned, getting up and trying the light switch on the wall, which also refused to illuminate the dark room. “Great! So much for television.”

  It was almost impossible to see, but she felt her way back to the kitchen and, after searching through several drawers, she found some candles and a box of matches. Lighting several, she walked into the hallway and peered out at the ghostly reflections made by the barren tree limbs when the lightning briefly illuminated the dark. After several seconds, she decided she might as well go upstairs.

  Once there, she tried the light switch, just in case, but the room remained in darkness. Placing one candle beside the bed, she lit the other candles
Derrick had placed there last night, before taking one with her into the bathroom.

  She turned on the water and began to draw a hot bath for herself—hoping the soothing water would help alleviate the jitters, which had suddenly crept up on her.

  Once the tub was full, she undressed and sank into the sudsy, steaming water. As she slowly ran her hands over her body, she remembered other hands that had explored her flesh the night before and this morning—Derrick’s hands—strong, sensual and pleasing.

  Try as she might, and Lord knew she had tried, she could not deny that she wanted him with a single-minded passion that overwhelmed, frightened and yet empowered her. Last night and this morning, she had longed for him to somehow defy the laws of physics and merge their bodies into one. At several points, she had felt as if he had done just that.

  Vivid memories of crying out in his arms, clinging to him, and the feel of his naked flesh against hers tormented her. Against her will, her eyes were drawn across the room to one of the white-tile walls. Hot color flooded her cheeks as she remembered how she had shamelessly clung to Derrick this morning as they had made love in this very bathroom.

  She grudgingly admitted that he was a fantastic lover—better than all the heroes in the romance novels she had read and in all the love stories she had watched on television or at the movies. With one look from those expressive eyes of his, he could inflame her soul. The slightest touch of his fingers turned her into a mass of putty that begged to be shaped by him. Yes, she was inexperienced, but she somehow knew that no one would ever compare to him.

  She sighed audibly as she closed her eyes again, trying without success to make sense out of her ambivalent feelings as far as her husband was concerned. Would he still be angry at her when he returned? No doubt, he would. He had every reason to be. She wondered if she should tell him the rest of the story. Would it make her more sympathetic in his eyes, or more pitiful?

  She opened her eyes and slowly stood. Her thoughts wouldn’t allow her to relax as she had hoped when she had sunk into the tub. All she seemed capable of doing was thinking of Derrick—wondering where he was, what he was thinking and feeling—and both dreading and looking forward to his return.

  Her fingers grabbed a huge black bath sheet and began to dry her body. Automatically, memories of this morning rushed to her mind. She dreamily remembered how his mouth had caressed hers and how his body had… Damn! She forcefully ended that train of thought, angrily threw the towel down and picked up another seductive negligee. This one was black satin and clung to her every curve. In spite of herself, she smiled slightly as she mentally pictured her mother shopping for the revealing nightgowns she had placed into Alesha’s luggage.

  She shivered as she reentered the bedroom and walked over to switch on the gas-powered heat before climbing beneath the soft satin sheets and comforter, pulling the cover up to her chin. In a few seconds, she felt completely warm. Her limbs relaxed and her mind was quiet.

  All that was missing was… No! She would not say his name again. The rain now mixed with something that sounded like sleet and pelted against the window. She snuggled down against the fluffy pillows beneath her head and began to drift off into sleep. Despite herself, the last thought she had was of Derrick as she wished for his safe return.

  Derrick listened impatiently as Cam outlined the remainder of his campaign strategy. Although he hated to admit it, his mind was not on this meeting, but rather on his wife. It was a little after 8:30 p.m. He had been gone longer than he had expected. The snow mixed with sleet worried him, and he hoped she was all right. He had tried to phone her about an hour ago, but the phone lines were down.

  “Cam, how much longer are we going to be?” He tapped his fingers against the mahogany tabletop.

  “Not much longer, why?”

  “Because I’m tired and I want to get back home before the roads get too bad.” He sprang off the sofa like a caged tiger and went to stare out the frosty window.

  Cam walked over to stand by his friend. “It’s not the road conditions that are prompting your sudden lack of interest in your campaign.”

  Derrick turned to face him, wishing Cam couldn’t read him so well. “I am not unconcerned—I’m just tired.”

  “You’re worried about Alesha, aren’t you?”

  He sighed in annoyance. “Come on, man. Don’t start speculating on my relationship with Alesha. We have a business arrangement—that’s all!” he insisted with more force than was necessary.

  Truthfully, after what had transpired between them last night and this morning, he wasn’t sure where they stood, or what he wanted to happen between them. Despite her unexplained lies, all he knew for certain was that he couldn’t get her out of his mind, out from under his skin or, he grudgingly admitted, out of his heart.

  “If that’s true, why are you so worried about her?”

  “She’s alone in an unfamiliar place with no transportation or phone, and a snowstorm is raging outside. Isn’t that enough reason for anyone to be concerned?” Derrick’s reasoning was flawless, but he knew it wouldn’t fool his best friend.

  “Yes.”

  “But?” Derrick knew he was not going to leave it at that.

  “But I think there’s more to it than that. I think that, despite yourself, you care for Alesha—that you really see her as your wife, not just as a means to an end.”

  Hearing his feelings articulated so brilliantly by his friend was unnerving and frustrating. Frustration oozed from every pore.

  “Look, Cam, we both know that I tried that once, and I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

  “Please! As for your first wife, if you want to call her that, she was never right for you. I tried to tell you that. Alesha, however, is another story. But then, you know that, don’t you?”

  “I’m using her—that’s where it begins and ends!” His forceful insistence was more for his own benefit than for Cam’s.

  “If you say so, Derrick.” Cam smiled.

  Derrick rolled his eyes. “You believe what you want—you will, anyway. I’m going home.” He picked up his jacket and walked to the door.

  “Derrick?”

  “What?” He turned around impatiently.

  “Give Alesha a kiss for me.”

  “Good night, Cameron,” he said, sighing heavily before opening the door.

  “Good night, bro.” Cam smiled. “Drive carefully.”

  Derrick made his way home as fast as the lousy weather would permit, which was at a slow crawl, giving him too much time to meditate on Cam’s words. Was he beginning to care for Alesha, despite his resolve not to? He knew the answer was yes—he had known that from the moment he had seen her again. He had been strongly attracted to her when they had first met two years ago. He had wanted her since their first touch and had burned for her since their first kiss. Now, after finally making love to her, he couldn’t deny that he still cared about her very much.

  Why had she lied to him two years ago? He could understand her feelings for him scaring her—hell, he had felt the same way—but why had she allowed him to believe she was involved with someone else? Why not just tell him she felt overwhelmed? It didn’t make any sense. There had to be more to it than she was admitting, but what?

  He sighed loudly. Why did her motivations matter to him one way or another? He was only using her, wasn’t he? As he had told Cam, once he had won the Senate seat, he would let her go and he wouldn’t think twice about it. He promised himself that he would. However, he knew he was lying, because the thought of life without Alesha left him chilled to the bone.

  Alesha was up nervously pacing the floor when she heard a car drive up around 11:00 p.m. She carefully peered out of the bedroom window and was relieved to see Derrick. She absently noted that the ground was covered with a layer of snow. She ran to the door and p
repared to open it, but stopped herself abruptly. What was she doing? She couldn’t let him know she had been waiting up for him!

  Changing course, she ran over and jumped into the bed, pulling the covers over herself before turning onto her side. Closing her eyes, she began to breathe heavily and evenly as if in a deep sleep. Seconds later, the bedroom door opened and Derrick came in. She felt him peer down at her and forced her breathing to remain even.

  He smiled slightly as she pretended to be asleep. He had seen her silhouette at the window, and knew instinctively she had been worried about him; that pleased him immensely. He picked up a candle, humming as he walked into the bathroom, leaving the door partially open. Seconds later, Alesha heard the shower running and Derrick singing.

  “Inconsiderate oaf.” She sat up slightly. “What if I really was asleep? He could wake up the dead with all of that noise.”

  When he shut the water off some long minutes later, she quickly resumed her previous position, once again feigning sleep. She heard him walk through the door and, seconds later, the bed shifted beneath his weight as he slid underneath the covers, naked beside her.

  She held her breath as he rolled closer to her, placing his arm around her waist, before turning her on her back. She continued to feign sleep, hoping he would take the hint that she didn’t want to talk about the past anymore.

  “I know you’re not asleep. Stop pretending,” he said softly, leaning over her.

  Knowing it was useless, she slowly opened her eyes to stare at him—his face was only inches away from hers. She resisted the sudden urge to trace the rugged outline of his face with her fingers, followed by her lips. Thankfully, he didn’t seem angry, just tired. She prayed he wouldn’t bombard her with more questions she had no idea how to answer.

  “Do you want to talk?” she asked in spite of herself.

  “No. No, I don’t want to talk.”

  He lowered his head to hers and she stared at him, mesmerized by his hungry eyes as his lips ever-so-slowly neared hers and touched her mouth. He caressed her lips with butterfly kisses until she was trembling with need. It was all she could do to refrain from begging him to stop this sweet torture and make love to her, and she knew that he knew it, too.