Long Time Coming (8 page)

"Law, don't!"

"I'm not as nice as you, Marnie. She was a slut, and I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her. I did what any young man would have done with a ripe, good-looking girl who was giving it away. She asked for it and she got it. But you're the one who paid for what we did."

"I didn't
pay
," she cried in protest. "I loved David from the day I knew Sharon had conceived him."

"Your folks were too caught up in their own misery or too busy blaming themselves for Sharon's behavior, so they abdicated the responsibility of taking care of David to you."

"It wasn't something they did consciously. It just evolved that way. And I didn't look upon David as a responsibility. I wanted to mother him."

"And you did from the very beginning, didn't you?"

"The house was in constant turmoil. There were so many hard feelings between Sharon and my parents, so much—"

"Who got up with him in the middle of the night?"

"I did," she said quietly.

"You changed him, gave him his bottle?"

"Yes."

"God, you were only a kid yourself."

"He didn't know that." She was smiling radiantly but her eyes were glistening with tears. "He didn't know any more about being a baby than I did about being a mother. We tolerated each other and learned together."

"You poked that gunk that babies have to eat into his mouth."

"And what he didn't like, he spat out."

"You bandaged his skinned knees."

"The knees weren't so bad, but he was hell on elbows."

"What about your schooling?"

"I went. I even graduated from college. It took me a little longer, that's all."

"Because you could handle only a light class load because you didn't want to leave David for long with your mother during the day," he said, guessing correctly.

"Yes, but—"

"And when you had your degree, you didn't even try for a well-paying position with an advertising firm as you could have. You opted to work at home so you would be here for David, right?"

"There were other considerations."

"I doubt it." Law closed his eyes and leaned forward until his forehead was resting against hers. "You made all the parental sacrifices. You are his mother, Marnie. You."

"The only way David could be more mine is if I'd been on that beach blanket with you instead of Sharon."

He pulled back quickly Marnie was equally stunned by her own words, but she didn't move. She didn't even blink, only returned his stare with serious gray eyes. As he watched, a tear trickled down her cheek.

He whisked it away, then rubbed his wet thumb across her lips. "If I had it to do over again, you would be. You're twice the woman she was."

His fingers closed around her head and drew her face up to his. He kissed the dewy spot the tear had left on her cheekbone, then the corner of her lips.

"I wanted to do that last night so badly my gut ached," he whispered roughly. He kissed the other corner of her mouth. "You want to know why I'm here today? This is why.

Every time you smiled at somebody I introduced you to last night, every time you took a sip of wine, every time you took a bite of food, I wanted to be tasting your beautiful, sexy mouth. And that chaste, obligatory good-night kiss at your front door only whetted my appetite."

His lips had been resting against hers during the arousing speech. Now he flicked his tongue against the seam of her lips. Marnie made an involuntary yearning sound. Law applied more pressure and nudged her lips apart. His tongue, sleek and agile and swift, mated with hers. She allowed it, and even participated eagerly.

"Damn," he groaned when he finally pulled back. "I should have kissed you right a long time ago."

Marnie welcomed his lips again and the sweet, warm dampness of his kiss. Responding to the hungry rapid tempo he set and her own sensuous impulses, she slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him close. He went up on his knees and pulled her to him, so that they were kneeling and facing each other.

His lips left a trail of quick hot kisses down her throat, then, brushing aside the collar of her shirt, he planted a solid one at its base.

She threw her head back and gasped his name.

"Touch me, Marnie." Taking her hand, he thrust it beneath his shirt and flattened it against the fuzzy warmth of his chest.

He frantically began undoing the buttons of her shirt but, when they were undone, sat back on his heels, surprised to find that she wasn't wearing a bra. Modestly she tried to pull her shirt together, but he pushed aside her anxious hands and gazed at her lustfully.

Misgivings assailed her. All were dispelled the instant he lowered his blond head and kissed the slope of one breast, hoarsely whispering her name as she had often heard it in her dreams.

She mindlessly caressed him, her hand lightly riding his ribs. Her thumb made accidental but electrifying contact with his distended nipple. He hissed a curse and gently nipped her breast.

"I can't believe this is happening." She wasn't aware she'd spoken her thoughts aloud until Law responded by drawing her closer and mumbling against her flesh. "It is. I can feel you, taste you."

His body was the finest work of art Marnie had ever experienced. She wanted to savor it, to indulge her appreciation of it, but his lips were sweeping kisses across her breasts and setting an erotic pace that wasn't conducive to dalliance.

His tongue stroked her nipple again and again. Her free hand cupped the back of his head as his mouth closed around the raised center and tugged on it with a demanding appetite.

"Law." His name escaped her lips on a long, low moan.

"I know. I know. I'm hurting too."

He pushed her hand down to his trousers. He was firm and full. Marnie froze. Law didn't notice. He reached for the button on her shorts, and when it was undone, he pulled down the zipper.

Feeling the cool metal rasp against her skin abruptly snapped Marnie out of her trance and woke her up to exactly what this was leading to.

"No, Law," she said suddenly pushing him away. She struggled to stand up, tripped over a photo album, and broke her fall against the arm of an upholstered chair.

Law, at a complete loss, didn't quite make it to his feet, but flopped back into the seat of the chair she'd stumbled into. He stared up at her with incomprehension as she grappled with the uncooperative buttons of her blouse.

"This is crazy," she said in a shaky voice. "Groping on the living room floor like—"

She had given up on the buttons. Her fingers wouldn't work properly while he was sitting there staring at her exposed torso. Her only alternative was to leave the room with as much dignity as possible.

She almost made it past the chair. But his arm shot out and his fingers shackled her wrist and drew her back between his widely spread knees.

"Law, we can't."

"The hell we can't," he growled, and he flipped open her shirt and pressed his open mouth against her bare stomach.

Marnie nearly fainted from the sheer eroticism of the embrace. She clasped his head in an attempt to regain her balance, but when her fingers knotted in his hair, it ended up being a caress.

His mouth was warm and wet and wonderful. And active. He loosely clasped her waist and nibbled at the fragile, sensitive skin of her belly, working his way down. His tongue flirted with her navel as his hands moved behind her to palm her derriere.

His beard stubble abraded her. His breath felt damp. His teeth were sharp, his tongue soft. The delicious sensations came in rapid succession. They were new, thrilling in contrast, and each more exquisite than the one before it.

His chin inched down the elastic waistband of her underpants. He kissed the paler skin beneath her bikini tan line. But when she felt his lips make contact with the cloud of dark hair, she caught her breath sharply.

"Law, what are you doing?"

"What does it feel like?"

What it felt like was too marvelous to describe and too scandalous to permit. Weak with desire, miserable with love, Marnie forced herself to push him away again. This time she stepped well out of his reach.

Chapter 9

«^
»

S
he was waiting by the front door when he came out of the living room. Her clothing, if not her composure, had been restored. "I think you'd better go," she said coldly.

"I think you'd better grow up."

She curbed her fury. Confrontations had never been enjoyable or easy for her. "Simply because I don't want to be manhandled on the living room floor is no reason for you to be insulting."

"What bothers you the most? The handling?" He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and assumed an arrogant stance. "Or the man?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Just what are you implying, Law?"

"Nothing," he said with a nonchalant shrug. "I'll be in touch."

He started to go past her, but she grabbed his arm. "I think you are implying something. And it's totally unfounded."

"Unfounded?" His eyes, so fluid and feverish with passion only minutes before, were now brittle and disparaging. "Why do you freeze up every time a man touches you?"

"I don't!"

"You sure as hell can't prove it by me!" he shouted. "Why haven't you ever been married?"

"That's none of your business."

"It damn sure is. You've got custody of my son, so I have every right to know everything there is to know about you, even your most personal secrets." He stepped closer, deliberately putting her on the defensive. "Why aren't you married?"

"No one has ever asked me."

"I don't doubt that. You freeze a guy in his boots if he so much as thinks the word sex. If you loved David as much as you claim—"

"I do."

"Then why didn't you marry for his sake, just so there would be a man around? Unless, of course, the thought of sleeping with a man is so repugnant to you that not even David's welfare could overcome it." His blue eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure you've created a very healthy climate for my son, Miss Hibbs."

"Oh, and I suppose that pleasure palace you call a house would be a much healthier environment, where babes like Suzette come and go at will. How healthy would it be for a teenage boy to know that his father has a swimsuit on hand to fit every size and shape female?"

"At least my life-style is
normal
."

"Sickeningly normal, Colonel Kincaid. Just like it was normal for you to imply there is something wrong with
me
because I said no to having a nooner on the living room floor, which was only something exciting to occupy you on an afternoon when you've got idle time on your hands."

She paused and drew a deep breath. "Well, for your information, I'm busy. So take your boredom, which I'm certain is what prompted you to come here in the first place, and your lewd insinuations about my sexuality, and leave my house."

He did, but not before tossing a subtle threat over his retreating shoulder. "This isn't the end of this thing. Not by a long shot."

* * *

"That's really neat, Grandma. Thanks."

David graciously accepted the key chain Mrs. Hibbs had made for him over a period of weeks in the morning crafts class. The nursing home had daily scheduled activities.

Marnie was glad to know that her mother had been feeling well enough to participate in some of them, even if the aides had done most of the handiwork on the key chain.

"I know your birthday is coming up." Her speech was slow but understandable. "Maybe you can use it."

"I can. It's great," David claimed. The plastic disk had his name painstakingly painted on it. He bounced it in his palm. "Thanks again."

"You'll be careful when you start to drive, won't you?" Mrs. Hibbs asked anxiously. "I think about Sharon."

Marnie laid a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder. "David's very conscientious, Mother."

"I'll be careful, Grandma. Mom would have a cow if I wasn't. And I know the consequences of drinking and driving."

Mrs. Hibbs seemed reassured. She relaxed in the chair beside her bed, the one that had been moved from the house. It personalized and gave a touch of homeyness to the otherwise clinical room.

"Are you tired, Mother?" Marnie asked. Mrs. Hibbs was always glad to see David, but even his presence in the small room exhausted her. His youthful energy seemed to vacuum up the oxygen.

"A little. But don't go yet."

"Why don't you wait outside, David, while I help Grandma get settled for the night?

Then you can come back in to say good-bye."

"Okay. That's fine," David said quickly. He never quarreled about paying his grandmother visits, but Marnie knew that he didn't enjoy coming to the rest home. He couldn't relate to infirmity and old age and found the grim reality of them distressing.

Marnie spent the next fifteen minutes preparing her mother for the night. A nurse came in with her evening medication. In only minutes the sleeping pill took effect and Mrs.

Hibbs dozed off.

Marnie opened her mother's nightstand drawer to replace some grooming articles.

That's when she saw the box of stationery the ball-point pen, and the book of postage stamps. For a moment she stared at them, curious to know who her mother could be corresponding with. She hadn't asked Marnie to bring her the stationery. Nor had she asked for any assistance in writing letters.

Then the horrifying realization struck her.

Mrs. Hibbs was softly snoring, her chest rising and falling evenly. But even in repose her face didn't look peaceful. There was a groove of discontent between her eyebrows, and her lips were pulled down at the corners. She was dying a very unhappy woman.

Marnie left the room and went directly to the nurses' station. "Excuse me," she said, addressing the woman on duty, "has my mother been sending out letters lately?"

The nurse smiled. "We're so proud of her. It's very difficult for her to write, you know.

Sometimes it takes her days to compose one, but she's been sending out about one letter a week for several weeks now." Then, noticing the anxiety on Marnie's face, she asked,

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't suppose you noticed whom the letters were addressed to?"

"No, I'm sorry. But then, it really wasn't my business."

"Of course not. No. Thank you."

She turned and thoughtfully made her way back down the corridor. "Hey, Mom, where've you been?" David asked as he rounded a corner and almost ran into her. "I went in to say good night, but Grandma – what's the matter?"

Marnie shook her head vaguely "Nothing. I … uh, nothing. Let's go."

Once at home, she tried to work on the jewelry catalog cover, but couldn't concentrate.

Her conscience was too busy. She couldn't be positive, but it seemed very likely that her mother had sent the letters to Law. Much as she dreaded the thought of facing him, she knew he should be apprised immediately. And he should be told in person.

Tossing down her brush and recapping her paints, she went upstairs, freshened up, and then went into David's bedroom. He was propped against the headboard of his bed, a history book tying open in his lap and a Walkman bridging his head. He removed the headpiece when he saw Marnie standing in the doorway.

"Huh?"

"Ma'am."

"Ma'am?"

"I've got to run an errand."

He glanced at his bedside clock. "It's almost ten o'clock."

"I know. I won't be long."

"Where're you going? To the store? Can I go? I'll drive."

"No, I'm not going to the store."

"Then where? What's up, Mom? Did something happen with Grandma?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Studying for an exam?"

"Yeah, but—"

"If I'm not back before you're ready to go to bed, make sure the doors are locked."

"Okay." He was frowning. "I wish you'd tell me what's going on."

"Nothing for you to worry about." She blew him a kiss and left before he could pose any more questions that she'd have to answer with lies.

On the drive to Law's house, she rehearsed what she was going to say. She wanted to keep it simple and to the point. After what had happened earlier that day, it was going to be uncomfortable to be alone with him.

But being alone with him looked doubtful. The minute she turned onto his street she noticed the line of cars parked along both curbs. Loud music was pouring from his house.

He was obviously hosting a party.

Her first impulse was to go home. The news could wait. But before she could back into a driveway to turn her car around, she changed her mind.

She had spent a miserable afternoon trying to decide whether she was glad she'd called a halt to their lovemaking or whether she regretted it. She hadn't been able to work.

She'd been restless and irritable. The day had been far from pleasant. It was irksome to her that Law could have survived their angry scene unscathed and in a party mood.

So, parking her car, she walked up the petunia-bordered path to the privacy fence gate that she knew led to the backyard. There were several guests frolicking in the pool and stewing in the hot tub. The deck was thronged with people. It was an eclectic crowd.

As she moved through it, she was ogled by two cowboys, each of whom was caressing a Suzette clone with one hand while lifting a can of beer to his lips with the other.

She was ignored by a group of executive types who were drinking whiskey and lamenting the dropping price of Texas crude. She caught the tail end of a rank story about a traveling salesman and a lady mud wrestler.

When she stepped on something squishy, she looked down to find that it was a sodden bikini bra. She didn't want to know where it had come from or where the bottom was.

"Ma'am?"

She turned to find a man sitting yoga fashion in a flowerbed of periwinkles. His long straight white hair was held back with a sequined headband, and his eyes were glazed. He was obviously high on the joint he was smoking. "You're blocking my view," he told her solemnly.

"Oh, sorry." She moved on, doggedly wending her way toward the house because she didn't see Law anywhere outside.

It was standing room only in the kitchen. A group of respectable-looking women were analyzing the ingredients of a creamy pink dip and bemoaning the long hours they spent chauffeuring their children around to all their activities. She recognized them as wives of astronauts. She'd met most of them the night of the dinner she'd attended with Law.

A beefy bully with a Mohawk haircut and swastika earring was terrorizing the fish in the aquarium with an empty beer can while humming the ominous tune from
Jaws
.

Around the table, a boisterous group of men were talking flying. Marnie recognized the husbands of the women who had transferred their attention from the creamy pink dip to one's new French-manicured fingernails. Tonight the NASA men had been joined by a few younger military types. All were listening attentively to one of the astronauts.

"…coming in low like this," he was saying, making a swooping gesture with his hands.

"He made a pass to land, but the tower waved him off."

"It did more than wave me off."

The voice belonged to Law, who was straddling a chair backward, his hands folded over its back. There was a woman straddling the seat, too, behind Law, giving his shoulders a massage and his ear a bath with her tongue.

Marnie wanted to cross the room and slap both of them very hard, an urge that stunned her, since previously she hadn't believed she had a violent bone in her entire body. The one and only time she'd ever spanked David, she had cried harder than he.

"The damn cowards were afraid of a little smoke," Law was saying drolly.

"A little smoke? Clouds of black smoke," the first speaker added. Law shrugged and took a swig of beer from the can sitting on the table in front of him. "Anyhow, this crazy sum'bitch comes around again, ignores the orders to eject and ditch the plane – said later his headset must've gone on the blink – and landed the thing on a dime. A
dime
."

He shook his head in admiration. "Never saw anything like it in all my days of flying.

And what'd the brass do to him? Read him the riot act for disobeying orders? Hell no! Not Apollo here. They gave him a damn medal!"

"You've done crazier stunts yourself," Law said over the laughter.

"He certainly has." The astronaut's wife moved up behind him and tipped the bill of his NASA cap over his eyes. "That was before I told him if he didn't stop hotdogging in those T-38s, I was gonna stop hotdogging with him in bed."

That elicited laughter, catcalling, wolf whistles, and assorted prurient comments from everyone within listening distance.

"Speaking of which, honey," she said, leaning down and kissing his cheek, "let's go home and leave the real partying to the young single folks. Two parties in a row is too much for an old broad like me to take."

There was a general rearranging of bodies around the table as several of the couples agreed with her and began drifting toward the door.

One of the wives spotted Marnie and smiled. "Hi." Her smile was open and friendly "I didn't get a chance to meet you last night. I'm Kris Campbell. This is my husband, Bob."

"Marnie Hibbs." Between the shoulders of the couple she witnessed Law's sudden reaction to her name. He whipped his head toward them. "Pleased to meet you."

"Did I overhear you tell someone that you're an artist?"

"That's right."

"I'd love to visit with you, but we were on our way out. Maybe some other time."

"I'd like that," Marnie said, responding to the woman's friendliness.

"I was so glad to see Law with someone like you last night. For once he had a date with a woman who's IQ is higher than her bust size. That leads me to believe that he's got a brain after all and not just a—"

"Come on, honey," the astronaut interrupted good-naturedly, nudging his wife through the patio door. "We'll catch you later, Marnie."

After they'd gone, Law called out to her, "Marnie, come on in. What are you drinking?

Will one of you gentlemen kindly let the lady have your chair?"

"No thank you to both." Her cheeks were burning with indignation, but she was determined to stand her ground. He was being deliberately obnoxious, trying to see what kind of rise he could get out of her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her either cowed or angry "I need to talk to you, Law."