D inner that night was a silent affair. Michael was waiting for Brittany to tell him about Dan’s visit. Brittany was still wrestling with the realization that she hadn’t been as hurt as she should have been by Dan’s harshness.
There was a time when having Dan think badly of her would have broken her heart. Now, it was upsetting but hardly the end of the world. She didn’t love him anymore. And that hurt more than the cruel accusations he’d made. In the beginning she’d been so sure that she’d love him forever, that if only he’d return, her life would be complete.
But he hadn’t returned, and her life had been pretty fulfilling without him. She looked across the table at Michael, who was eating his dinner with a dogged determination that made it clear he had only the vaguest idea of what was on his plate.
Michael had completed her life. Brittany stared at him, feeling a shock of awareness. Without Michael, her life would be so empty.
He looked up, catching her eyes on him. He arched one brow in inquiry, but Brittany shook her head and looked down at her plate. What a time to suddenly realize that you were in love with your husband. There should have been candlelight and flowers and soft music not meathloaf and mashed potatoes and dirty dishes in the sink.
How long had she loved him? It seemed like forever. The feeling had been inside of her for so long. How could she not have known it? He was good and kind but never boring. He made her laugh, he believed in her, encouraged her to be happy. As a lover, he was wildly exciting, teaching her things about herself she’d never known.
“I think it’s about time Danielle went to bed. She’s about to fall asleep in her peas.”
Brittany’s head snapped up, her thoughts so far removed from toddlers and bed time that it took her a second to register what he was saying.
“Oh. Right.” She pushed back her chair, reaching for the tray on Danielle’s high chair. “It is pretty late for her to be up.” She lifted the baby out of the chair, soothing her when she began to fuss irritably.
Michael watched Brittany leave the room before pushing back his own chair and reaching for their plates. From the looks of Brittany’s dinner, she hadn’t had much appetite. He carried the plates into the kitchen and began stacking them in the dishwasher, his movements made jerky by irritation.
Didn’t she plan to tell him about Dan’s visit at all? Did she think he wouldn’t find out? And why would she want to hide it from him? From what Dan had said, it hadn’t been a terribly pleasant encounter.
Unless it had hurt her so badly she couldn’t talk about it. And for it to hurt that much, she’d have to care about Dan very deeply.
He slammed a glass into the dishwasher with enough force to break it. Muttering under his breath, he fished the broken chunks out of the silverware tray and dropped them into the trash.
“What happened?”
He turned quickly at the sound of Brittany’s voice. Seeing her, he wanted to take her in his arms, tell her he loved her, tell her he’d never let her go.
“Michael?” Her tone made it clear that she found his behavior odd, and he shook his head, turning back to flip on the dishwasher.
“I broke a glass.”
“You didn’t cut yourself, did you?”
“No.” God, you’re pretty far gone when you find yourself wishing you had cut yourself just so she could fuss over it.
He leaned against the counter, looking at her. “Dan came to see me today.”
Brittany’s head jerked up, her eyes startled. “He did?”
“He said he’d already seen you.”
“Yes, he did. I was going to tell you, but it wasn’t a very pleasant visit.” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, looking away from him. “He found out about Danielle, more or less.”
“So I gathered. He seemed to have the wrong impression, though.”
Her eyes flickered to his and then away. “Did you tell him the truth?”
“That he was Danielle’s father? I told him.”
“Everything?”
“Everything. Why we married, the whole thing.”
“How did he react?”
“Just about the way you’d expect. He was stunned, a little hurt, maybe.”
She sighed, pulling one hand out of her pocket to run it through her hair. “We made such a mistake,” she said, thinking that they should have told Dan the whole truth that first night.
What Michael heard was that their marriage had been a mistake.
“No.” He moved so quickly that Brittany didn’t have a chance to react. She gasped as he caught her upper arms, pulling her against his body. Startled, she looked up into eyes that blazed a fiery blue. “Don’t ever say that.”
“Say wh—” His mouth smothered her confused question, his arms sweeping around her to crush her so close she could hardly draw a breath.
He didn’t ask for her surrender. He demanded it. His tongue plunged into her mouth, sweeping across the tender surfaces as if to conquer them, make them his own.
Brittany’s hands pressed against his chest in automatic protest before slowly relaxing and sliding upward to circle his neck. Her fingers burrowed into the silky, dark hair at his nape as her mouth opened to him, her tongue coming up to fence with his.
He dragged his mouth from hers, but only to find the warm skin of her neck. Brittany’s head fell back, her fingers clinging to his shoulders as his tongue found the pulse that pounded raggedly at the base of her throat.
Her head spun with the quick rise of passion. He wasn’t giving her time to think, and there was something she needed to think about. But the knowledge was a foggy, far-off thing, without urgency.
He pushed her away just long enough to strip the sweatshirt over her head, and then his hands were cupping her breasts, the nipples growing taut beneath his fingers. She was vaguely aware that he was shifting her backward, but it didn’t really register until his hands closed over her waist and he lifted her onto the dining room table.
“Michael!” She’d meant it to be a protest, but it came out as more of a whimper as his mouth closed over one swollen nipple, teasing it with lips and tongue until it throbbed. Satisfied, he switched his attentions to the other breast; drawing a sob of pleasure from her throat.
Not until he’d reduced her to quivering awareness did he lift his head, catching her mouth in a long, drugging kiss.
“Tell me you want me,” he whispered against her lips.
“I want you.” How could he think she didn’t? Couldn’t he feel how she burned for him?
He unsnapped her jeans, lifting her as he slid them and her panties off her legs, tossing them both aside. The table was cool against her bare skin, a vivid contrast to the heat of him. When had he taken off his clothes? she wondered distractedly.
His hand slid up her thigh as he eased her back on the table, and she trembled when his fingers found her. He stroked the moist flesh of her, drawing a ragged whimper of pleasure as he slipped a finger inside, feeling the heat of her.
“Tell me again,” he said against her breast.
“I want you,” she gasped. His tongue swirled lazily across her belly. “I want you.” His hand probed deeper, taking possession of her. “I want you. Ah, Michael.”
She arched, her hands clenching in his hair as his mouth found her, his tongue tasting her passion. Brittany kept her eyes closed, sparks of red fire darting across her vision as her body responded helplessly to his ministrations.
He drove her relentlessly, rushing her toward the peak so that when it came, she fell breathlessly into it, hardly aware of herself anymore.
The last pulsating sensation had not yet died when she felt him over her. She opened dazed eyes as he wrapped his hands in her hair, holding her still as he looked down at her, watching every flicker of expression as he slowly filled her with his strength.
“Michael.” Something flared in his eyes when she spoke his name. Where before, he’d rushed her toward a climax, now he seemed intent on taking his time. Now it was Brittany who quivered with impatience, her hands on his hips urging him to pick up the pace. He smiled, his eyes still holding that watchful look, and slowed until he was barely moving, seeming to take pleasure in the fact that she so blatantly wanted more than he was giving.
“What’s the hurry, sweetheart?”
“Please.” The breathless little moan was all she could manage, her head tossing back and forth, scattering her silky black hair across the pale wood.
His laughter held pure masculine triumph, but he gave her what she wanted. Brittany’s hands sought purchase on his damp back, needing something to cling to as the world exploded into a million sparkling pieces all around her.
His voice came to her through a fog, low and husky, holding a note of promise. “We’ve got all night; and this is only the beginning.”
It was a promise he kept, and it was a night neither of them was likely to forget. Brittany lost count of the number of times he made love to her. He carried her into their bedroom, laying her across the bed and bringing her to sweet ecstasy again and again until she begged for mercy. And then he carried her into the shower, supporting her trembling body with his as the warm water sluiced over them and he proved to her that she wasn’t as tired as she thought.
When she finally fell asleep, it was almost dawn. She slept deeply, dreamlessly, not waking until Danielle’s plaintive cry dragged her from the arms of Morpheus. She staggered out of bed, fumbling for a robe as she went down the hall to the baby’s room. She changed Danielle, lifting her onto her hip to carry her into the living room, then setting her on the floor.
Michael was gone. That much was clear. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or sorry. Still rubbing sleep from her eyes, she began to warm a bottle for Danielle and make a pot of coffee for herself.
Every muscle in her body ached, every nerve ending tingled from the night before. She felt achingly tired and startlingly alive at the same time. Still, there was something odd about the whole thing. It was as if he’d been trying to prove something to her.
Brittany poured a cup of coffee and sipped it, feeling the caffeine enter her system, banishing some of the fog from her brain. What had set him off? She frowned at the coffee maker. It wasn’t as though she’d been wearing anything particularly sexy or had said anything provocative. In fact, they’d been talking about Dan right before Michael had jumped her bones.
She’d just said something about them having made a mistake. And he’d said no. No what? No, it wasn’t a mistake. But what wasn’t a mistake? She’d meant that they should have told Dan the truth right away. Was it possible that Michael thought she’d meant something else altogether? Their marriage?
“He couldn’t think that,” she muttered out loud, reaching for the bottle and testing it against her wrist.
But if he had thought that... Would that explain last night? Maybe he’d been trying to prove something to her, to make her see that they were compatible? She flushed, remembering the abandoned response she’d given him. Well, there was no doubt he’d proved that.
She carried the bottle into Danielle, who took it eagerly. Brittany was halfway to the bedroom to get some clothes on when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock and then at the rather scruffy terry robe she’d thrown on, she went to answer it. If it was a salesman, he was going to get short shrift from her.
She pulled open the door, the words of polite dismissal dying on her lips. “Dan.”
“Hi.” There was a short silence while they stared at each other. “I’ve come to apologize,” Dan said at last, his uneasiness obvious.
“Come in.”
“Thanks. I wouldn’t blame you if you booted me out.”
Brittany shut the door, reaching up to push her hair back from her face, wishing she’d had a chance to comb it or brush her teeth or get properly dressed. After last night, she could have used a little time to pull herself together before having to deal with apologies from anyone.
“You’ve been under a lot of strain.” She shrugged. “I don’t blame you for jumping to conclusions.”
“It was stupid of me,” he said as he pulled off his coat and draped it over a chair.
“A little.” She smiled, taking the sting out of the words. “I’ve made some coffee. Would you like some?”
Dan’s eyes went past her, his face suddenly whitening. Brittany turned, comprehension dawning when she saw Danielle toddling toward her, bottle clutched in one hand.
“Hi, sweetie. Did you come to see who Mama was talking to?” She bent to scoop the little girl up, turning with her in her arms. “Danielle, this is Dan. He’s a friend.”
Dan stared at the child, his face pale. Danielle looked at him for a minute and then turned away, more interested in the collar of her mother’s bathrobe than she was in this stranger.
“She’s beautiful,” Dan said softly. Brittany glanced at him and then looked away. There was too much vulnerability in his eyes. No one should see another person that naked.
“Thank you.”
“May I hold her?” There was so much hunger in the question, so much pain that Brittany felt her eyes sting.
“Of course. Why don’t you take her into the living room while I change and get us some coffee?”
She pretended not to notice that his hands were not quite steady as he took Danielle from her. Danielle stared at him, trying to decide whether or not she approved of this person holding her. He appeared to pass some test, because she stuck her bottle in her mouth, watching him over it with wide blue eyes.
Satisfied that they were going to be all right, Brittany made a quick trip to the bathroom, splashing water on her face and running a comb through her hair before tugging on a pair of jeans and a sweater. There was a faint bruise on her shoulder, and she flushed, remembering Michael’s hands on her. She’d be willing to bet that his back bore the marks of her nails.
Shaking her head, she forced her mind back to the present. Last night required some thinking, and she couldn’t do it with Dan waiting in the living room.
When she came back out, he was sitting on the floor with Danielle, carefully stacking blocks so that she could knock them over with one blow. It was one of her favorite games. Brittany brought cups of coffee into the living room, sitting one on a table near Dan, holding the other close to her chest.
He looked up at her as she sat on the sofa, drawing one leg under her.
“She’s beautiful. You and Michael have done a wonderful job.” The compliment was given freely, and Brittany accepted it in the manner given.
“Thank you. We think she’s a pretty terrific.”
It was funny how she could look at him and feel nothing more than a nostalgic fondness. There was no more doubt, no more wondering what might have been. He was silent for a long moment, watching the child.
“I’d never have left if I’d known you were pregnant,” he said at last.
“I know. I always knew that.”
“If I’d known—We would have married. I wonder if we’d have been happy?” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her, trying to look at a path not taken.
“I don’t know. I used to think about it a lot. Wonder what it would have been like.”
“You don’t think about it much anymore, do you?” He glanced up, his eyes catching hers. Brittany wasn’t sure what answer he hoped for, but she couldn’t give him anything but the truth.
“Not much,” she said gently.
He nodded, looking back at Danielle, who was stacking blocks into an extremely shaky tower.
“She has my eyes.” The comment might have been random, but Brittany thought she understood. He’d come back to find that everything he’d left behind was gone, never to be regained. He needed some connection, however small, to the life he might have had, the person he’d once been.
“She has your eyes,” Brittany agreed.
The answer seemed to satisfy him. He reached out to steady the blocks.
“I suppose I really came to say goodbye,” he said at last, without looking at her.
“You’re leaving?” She was surprised. “You just got home.”
“There’s really not much here for me. I got my mother’s address from the agent who sold the house. I thought I’d take a trip to Europe, see how she’s doing. We spoke on the phone and she was going to fly home, but I told her I’d rather come to her. After two years in the tropics, the winter doesn’t suit my bones.” He gave an exaggerated shiver, his mouth twisting in a half smile.
Brittany didn’t think his leaving had anything to do with the weather, but she didn’t argue. Maybe he was right. There didn’t seem to be much left for him here.
“We’ll miss you, Michael and I. We’re just now getting used to knowing you’re alive.”
“I don’t think Michael will miss me all that much,” Dan said ruefully. “I think he’ll be relieved to see me gone. Not that he isn’t glad I’m all right,” he added. “But there’s a real possessive streak in him. One I never suspected.”
Brittany flushed, well aware that he was referring to her. The idea that Michael was possessive of her was not displeasing.
Dan hadn’t taken his eyes off Danielle, as if he were trying to store up memories of her for when he was gone.
“You’ll always be welcome here, Dan. When she’s old enough to understand, we plan to tell her about you. I know she’ll want to know you.”
He was quiet so long, she wondered if he’d even heard her, but his hand was clenched over a block, the knuckles turning white.
“Thanks,” he said finally, his voice husky. “I’d like a chance to know her.”
He stood up not long after that, announcing that he ought to be on his way. Brittany didn’t try to persuade him to stay. She was not entirely at ease around him. There was a lingering feeling that she should feel something more for him, some deeper tie than she did.
They stood in the hallway for a moment without speaking. He reached out to take her hands, and Brittany didn’t protest. His touch aroused nothing in her but a warm feeling for someone she cared about. His eyes searched hers, a rueful smile twisting his mouth at what he saw there.
“I’ll always think that we could have had something good together. But I’m glad you’re happy. Truly glad. And I’m glad you’re happy with Michael. He’s a hell of a guy.”
“I know you’ll find someone, Dan. And whoever she is, she’ll be a lucky woman.”
“Thanks. I may come to you for a reference.”
His smile faded as his hands tightened over hers, and he bent to kiss her. It was a light kiss, a farewell, a fleeting gesture to what might have been, and Brittany accepted it as such.
A wave of cold air swept into the hallway, and Dan stepped back from Brittany, turning to look at Michael, who’d stopped dead in the doorway. A muscle ticked in Michael’s jaw when he saw their linked hands. It was obvious that he’d seen the last of the kiss and, despite the perfect innocence of the situation, Brittany felt a twinge of uneasiness at the look in his eyes.
“You always did have a rotten sense of timing, Michael,” Dan said calmly, dropping Brittany’s hands and reaching for his coat.
“Should I remember to knock before entering my own home?” Michael’s eyes followed Dan’s every movement as if looking for an excuse to pounce.
“Don’t be an idiot, Michael.” Brittany stepped forward, setting her hand on his arm, feeling the tautness of the muscles beneath her fingers. “Dan is leaving.”
“Good,” he said bluntly.
Her fingers tightened chidingly. “I mean he’s leaving Remembrance.”
“Why?” Michael addressed the question to Dan. The other man shrugged into his coat before answering.
“There’s really not much for me here.”
Brittany felt the arm beneath her fingers relax as his meaning sank in.
“Where are you going?”
“I thought I’d head for Europe. I guess I’ve got a stepfather now. I probably ought to meet him.”
“I hope you have a safe trip,” Michael said quietly.
“Thanks.”
Michael held out his hand. Dan looked at it for a moment before taking it. The handclasp was tight, their eyes meeting over it, saying things neither of them could say out loud. They’d been friends most of their lives, closer than most brothers. Saying goodbye wasn’t easy.
“Well.” Dan cleared his throat as his hand left Michael’s. “I guess I’d better be on my way.” He looked from Brittany to Michael. “Take care of that little girl in there. She’s special.”
“We will,” Brittany told him, slipping her hand through Michael’s arm. “You take care of yourself.”
“Hell, I’ve come back from the dead once. I don’t intend to tempt fate again.” He lifted his hand and then was gone, the door shutting behind him.
Brittany reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, her eyes bright. Looking down at her, Michael swallowed hard.
“If you want to go with him, I won’t stop you,” he said huskily, the words dragged from him.
Her eyes met his and she felt her heart swell at what she read there. “Why would I want to go with him when I have everything I want right here?”
“I just thought—” He broke off, his eyes dropping to where her hand rested on his arm. “You loved him.”
“Yes, I did. But I loved him the way a girl loves. I love you the way a woman loves. And it’s so much stronger.”
She saw the impact of her words in the way his eyes jerked to hers, the color seeping up in his face and then receding, leaving him pale.
“You love me?”
“More than anything in the whole world,” she said, her voice shaky.
“Oh God.” His arms swept around her, crushing her to him, and she gasped. “I love you so much. I didn’t even realize how much until Dan came back and I thought I might lose you.”
“Never. You’ll never lose me,” she promised. His kiss smothered anything she might have added, but there was really no need to say more. The kiss said it all.
A cranky wail from the living room brought them slowly apart. Brittany stared up at him with eyes shining with love, seeing the same emotion reflected back at her.
“I love you.”
“I love you, Brittany. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You won’t have to find out,” she assured him.
The wail grew in volume, demanding attention. She linked her arm with his, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I think Danielle is having trouble with some of the finer points of constructing a high rise. Maybe her Daddy could give her some pointers.”
* * * * * *