Caught Up In You 4: The Point of No Return (Edgeplay) (4 page)

 “He asked me to marry him, Pops. He calls me love, just like you did with Grandma Rose. He’s yet to actually say he loves me, but I know how stubborn you alpha males are.” I smile and take his withered hand in mine. Ignoring the age spots, the paper thinness of his skin, I hold it tightly. “He’s so messed up, so troubled. We have so much to work out. But I’m going to do it because I can’t imagine not having him in my life. I’m going to marry Connor Edge.”

 “No.”

 I blink, actually look around the room to see if someone else said the word. But the voice, rusty from disuse comes again, stronger this time. “No.”

 “No what, Pops?” My throat closes as I see the steely determination in his eyes. “Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

 The fog lifts for a moment but instead of the keen intelligence I remembered I see only fear.

 “No, you can’t marry him.”

Chapter Three

 
L
ost in thought, I stir the soup absently. The scent of cornbread fills my small kitchen and two red taper candles stand sentinel over the small shaker table I cleared of junk mail for the occasion. I’ve changed into a black broomstick skirt and cobalt blue sweater with a sweetheart neckline, going for the romantic yet low maintenance look. My feet are cold, bare against the hard floor but I don’t have any sexy shoes and don’t want to kill the look with sneakers or boots.

 A knock sounds and I call out “It’s open!”

 “You should at least see who’s at your door if you leave it unlocked,” Connor chides me. He looks delicious in his jet black suit with a slide tie the same color as my sweater.

 Putting the wooden spoon down I move toward him eager for a kiss. “Then what the heck are you paying security people for, if strangers with ill intent can wander onto your property to do me harm any old time they like?”

 “Sassy.” He pulls me toward him and gives me a light swat on my backside, leaving his hand to cop a feel through the thin fabric of my skirt. I press into him and he raises both eyebrows when I wiggle against his hand. “No underwear?”

 “For easy access.” Rising up to my tiptoes, I feather my lips lightly over his.

 “I love the way you think,” he growls, pulling me even tighter into his solid body. His hard shaft presses into the soft flesh of my belly. “Can we skip right to dessert?”

 “It’s not ready yet.” I nod to the pie cooling on the windowsill.

 “That’s not what I meant.” His blue eyes rove my body, leaving a trail like a hot caress.

 Though I’m tempted to let him drag me into the bedroom and help me forget about the disturbing encounter with Pops, I have too much I want to discuss with him first. “Dinner’s almost done. We’ll get there soon enough.”

 I see the struggle in the twitch of muscle around his jaw. His dominant tendencies may be dormant, but they still exist in this more user friendly version of Connor. Taking pity on him, I step back toward the stove. “Light the candles, please?” I ask, bending to take the spoon bread out of the oven.

 Draping his coat over the back of the couch he inhales deeply. “It smells wonderful in here. You’ve been learning to cook?”

 Setting the hot dish on a trivet, I meet and hold his gaze. “It reminded me of you while we were apart.”

 Saying things like that are becoming easier for me. Though the vulnerability is still there, I have more faith that Connor wants to hear the absolute truth from me, regardless of how dweeby or pathetic I think it sounds.

 Wrapping and arm around my waist, he pulls me toward him. I expect a kiss, but he simply touches his forehead to mine in shared communion. One hand fists in my hair, removing the elastic holding my braid securely. Fingers spear through the strands, undoing the hairstyle until it flows freely down my back. “I like it loose.”

 “I never leave it loose. Only when I sleep.”

 “Which is why I like it. I’m the only one who gets to see it unbound in all its fiery glory.” His gruff voice and sincere expression turn the melodramatic words into something heartfelt.

 “I’ll keep it down for you then.” It would be worth the distraction to give him something so simple.

 Connor pulls away and I ladle up the soup then serve him some of the bread. He rises when I return to the table and pulls out my chair for me, helping seat me. I didn’t know men actually did that outside of old movies.

 “Would you like some wine? I brought a halfway decent zinfandel.”

  “Is that all my dinner rates? Halfway decent?” I tease.

 He shoots me a sheepish look. “Sorry. I picked it up at the liquor store on the way home. I didn’t want to run into Rochelle and endure another lecture.”

 “What’s she lecturing you about?” I ask as he pops the cork.

 “Dubai, she wants me to bring you next week.”

 I take the glass from him and raise it to my lips, hoping to hide my dismay. I’m going to kill her. “What did you tell her?”

 One corner of his mouth quirks up. “That I’d discuss it with you.”

 “Wine’s pretty good.” Not that I know a blessed thing about wine.

 He sets his spoon down, holds my gaze. “Baily, do you want to come with me?”

 Oh no, he isn’t going to put all this on me, make it like I just invited myself along. “Do you want me to come with you?”

 Dark eyebrows draw together “Of course I do. I just thought you wouldn’t want to leave your grandfather.”

 I close my eyes. “Oh.”

 
Idiot.
Snarkerella hisses.
Here he was being considerate and you’re giving him the third degree. Are you determined to screw this up?

 A chair scrapes and his heat washes over me like a blast furnace, warming all the cold parts inside me. “Talk to me.”

 Forcing my lids up, I turn to face him. “I didn’t want to just inflict myself on you. It was really all her idea anyway.”

 Lacing his fingers through mine, he raises my hand to his lips, where he brushes a gentle kiss across my knuckles. “I always want you with me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

 “It’s just that there’s so much I don’t know about you.” Appetite gone, I push my plate aside.

 “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” His expression turns wry. “At least what I can.”

 Licking my lips, I whisper, “Okay. Tell me about your meeting with the DOD. Unless it’s classified.”

 Connor frowns. “You want to hear about work?”

 “Yeah. I want you to tell me about your day, then I’ll tell you about mine. Like a real couple.”

 “We are a real couple,” he insists.

 Pulling my hand back I rise from the table intending to head into the other room. It’s difficult to think with him so close. “I don’t feel like one. I have all these questions and every time I think we’ve turned a corner something shanghais us.”

 Connor pulls me down onto his lap. “Easy, baby, it’s all right. We have time. ”

 It’s a testament to the sturdy shaker construction that the chair supports our combined weight. It feels so incredibly good to be held by him, one arm wrapped around me holding me securely and the other rubbing my back in a soothing gesture. He always knows what I need, even before I do.

 “The meeting went well. I was on my A-game and I think the contract is in the bag. We’ll hear in a couple of days.”

 This is exactly what I wanted, to hear the nuts and bolts parts of his business. To know what it is he does when we’re not together. To be treated like a real partner, not just a sex toy. “More. Tell me more.”

  I relax into him as he tells me all about his day, the ins and outs, the people he had to strong arm and those who’ve made themselves invaluable during negotiation. The competition, which he waves off dismissively, and the government employees who he deems “a tough sell, but will come around.” I hang on his every word.

 “Now I want to hear about yours.” He nuzzles my cheek with his nose.

 “It was…weird.” I murmur, thinking about Pops. I know hearing about my sick grandfather isn’t Connor’s favorite thing, but the odd scene from earlier keeps playing through my mind like a commercial on a loop.

 “How so?”

 “You should eat before the soup gets cold.” I move to get up but he keeps me trapped between his body and the table.

 Taking my chin in his hand, he turns me to face him. “I’ll heat it up. Now talk to me.”

 Those eyes could compel me to walk off a bridge. I’d started this little question and answer session, it’s only fair that I play by the rules.

 “Well, I went to see Pops, like usual. He was vacant, you know, like the lights are on but nobody’s home? I was telling him about how we were back together and the next thing I know he freaked out on me.”

 Connor’s arms tightened around me. “Did he hurt you?”

 I shake my head. “No, he wouldn’t do that. Ease up before you squeeze the stuffing out of me.”

 Relaxing his grip infinitesimally he says, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

 I really didn’t want to, not like this. Giving him my decision ought to be magical, not as a sidebar to some bizarre story of my grandfather’s mental breakdown. Maybe if I fudge it just a little.…

 As though reading my mind Connor prompts, “Word for word, Baily.”

 Shoot. “I told him you’d asked me to marry you. Told him that I was going to say yes. He said no. ”

 “You mentioned my name, specifically?” Connor’s eyes narrow.

 “Yes.” If I expected him to leap to his feet and hop up and down I was in for a disappointment. “Did you hear what I said?”

 He’s gone, checked out almost the same way Pops does. Shoot, is he transitioning to Connor the Dom? In a panic I shove against him, wanting to be a good arm’s length away but I’m stuck between a solid man and a sturdy table. Infusing my voice with as much command as I could muster I say, “Connor, let me go now.”

 He blinks and instantly pushes away from the table. “Sorry, love. I was just puzzling something out.”

 Now that he’s back in control, I smack his shoulder. “Don’t do that. I thought you were checking out on me.”

 Obviously preoccupied, Connor sets me on my feet, rises and moves to the living area.  Hurt at being dismissed, I clear the table. Maybe it’s better that he didn’t hear me. Do I really want to tie myself to a man that runs hot and cold for the rest of my life?

 “I need to make a few calls.” Donning his coat, Connor is already fussing with his cellphone when he ducks through my small door and out into the night.

 Suddenly exhausted I leave the dishes and pour myself a second glass of mediocre wine and curl up in my chair and a half. As I watch the fire consume the split logs, relentlessly attacking the wood until it collapses I think I know exactly how that used-up piece of dead tree feels.

 What the hell am I missing?

****

 The hypnotic dance of the flame and the warmth eases me into a light doze. The crinkle of paper cuts through my hazy dreamscape, grounding me back in my living room. I blink as I see Connor going through my notebook.