Dare to Dream (18 page)

Chapter 38

“N
othing like a man who knows his way around a kitchen,” Desiree said, easing behind Lincoln and wrapping her arms around his narrow waist.

He glanced at her over his right shoulder. “I learned early on that the quickest way to your heart was a good home-cooked meal, followed by rock-your-world sex.”

“And not necessarily in that order,” she said with a giggle.

“Be careful or we may have dessert before the main course.”

“That’s not such a bad idea,” she cooed, rising up on tiptoes to kiss the back of his neck. “What are you fixing anyway? Need some help?” She tried to get a peek in the pots and he swatted her hand away.

“Grilled salmon with my
very
special sauce.”

“Oh, not the
very
special sauce,” she said, rolling her eyes upward in delight.

Lincoln chuckled. “Wild rice…but not too wild. Fresh string beans.”

“How fresh?” she said, feigning deep interest.

“As fresh as your scent when you step out of the shower.”

She nodded in approval. “That’s pretty darn fresh. What else?”

He turned from the stove and pulled her to stand in between his opened legs. He let his eyes roll over her for a moment, delighting in what he saw.

His voice was a low throb. “I figured for dessert we could adjourn to the master bedroom and sample the new sheets that I put on the bed just for you.”

Her left brow arched and her mouth fought back a grin. “Just for me…well…” She reached around him and turned off the pots and the oven. “Seems to me we might have a little time before the main course, so I was thinking we might go straight for the dessert. I know that always works up my appetite.” Her fingers played with his belt buckle until she unfastened it and released the zipper.

A sudden dark hunger drifted across Lincoln’s eyes like clouds before a major storm.

“I don’t think we’ll make it to sample the sheets.” He eased her back until her legs brushed the table. “I always had a thing for a woman who knew how to make it easily accessible for a man,” he whispered, kissing her neck and pushing the oversized T-shirt of his that she wore up over her hips to reveal pure, fresh nakedness beneath.

Desiree grinned mischievously. “And I truly admire a man who knows his way around an accessible woman,” she said in a husky voice. She clasped his hardened sex in her hand, running her thumb across the sensitive tip, and moaned right along with him.

He lifted her onto the table and just like in the scene from
The Postman Only Rings Twice,
he tossed the table’s contents to the floor, spread her warm brown thighs and found his way home.

* * *

Sitting Indian style in the center of Lincoln’s king-size bed, with their dinner plates filled to the brim, Lincoln and Desiree finally had their meal.

“That was new and different,” Desiree said, before lifting a piece of salmon to her mouth.

“We have the rest of our lives to experiment in new places with new tricks.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Lincoln’s eyes found hers. “Are you sure that spending your life with me is what you want?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then this calls for a toast!” He set his tray aside and reached for the bottle of wine on the nightstand. He filled the glasses and handed one to Desiree.

“To our future—together—no matter what it may bring,” he said, raising his glass.

Desiree touched her glass to his. “To the future.” She took a sip and put her glass down. She was thoughtful for a moment. “Linc, why do you think Jackson said what he did about Cynthia hiding something?” She filled her fork with wild rice.

“I’m sure he has his reasons. Although I fail to see what Cynthia would gain by hiding anything. After all, she lost her job, too—not that she really needs it, from what you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen.”

Desiree nodded in agreement. “Exactly.” She pushed out a frustrated breath. “It’s all just so ugly. I want it to be over so I can put it all behind me and move on with my life.” She chewed on her salmon. “And all those questions about her mother. What was that about?”

“Got me. But your friend Allison said he was good, so let’s just let him do his job and not worry about it.”

“You’re right. I hope Cynthia wasn’t too upset or offended by some of his questions.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t. She seems like a pretty tough lady.”

“Well, I’m going to go and see her tomorrow. We can talk then.”

“I didn’t want to tell you before with everything going on, but I’m going to need to get back to The Port. I have some contractors coming in to discuss some work that needs to be done and I can’t do it by phone.”

“Oh…when do you have to leave?”

“Friday morning.”

“All right. I’ll just stay here until you get back.”

“No, you won’t. You’re coming with me. Until all this business is straightened out and Carl Hampton is where he belongs, you’re not getting out of my sight. No discussions.”

“Lincoln, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be, but you’re coming anyway. End of story.”

She pursed her lips but opted not to protest any further. Truthfully, she was getting used to being with Lincoln again and she wasn’t ready for the spell to be broken.

“If you insist,” she said, pretending to grumble.

“Now, that’s how I like my woman,” he teased, “soft and pliable.” He ran his hand along the curve of her waist.

“Oh, really now?” she tossed back. She put her food tray down on the floor next to the bed. Then on her hands and knees crept toward him like a lioness hunting for lunch. “Funny thing is,” she said, lowering the timbre of her voice, “I like my man just the opposite.”

Lincoln’s devilish grin was filled with promise. “Hmm.” He pulled her toward him until she was stretched out along the length of his supine body. “Then we’ll have to do something about that. Won’t we?”

“Yes,” she purred, flicking her tongue across the warm flesh of his chest. “We will.”

* * *

“I think we need a bigger shower,” Lincoln said over the rush of water. He languidly spread body wash across Desiree’s back and rubbed it with a soft sponge.

She turned to face him, pressing her soapy breasts against his chest.

“I like the intimate feel of this one.”

He pointed the shower head in her direction and she slowly turned in a circle to rinse off.

“Whatever the lady wants.” He held his face up to the pulsing water and let it splash all over him.

Desiree stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel hanging on the warming rack. As she passed the towel across her face she was no longer standing in Lincoln’s bathroom in Manhattan. She was in their old apartment in Fort Green, Brooklyn… .

She was in a hurry as usual, rushing to get ready to go see a Patti LaBelle concert at Lincoln Center. It was Valentine’s Day.

She and Lincoln hadn’t been out for months. Between his work and her schedule they’d hardly had the time or energy to do much more than have dinner and fall into bed at night.

“We need a break,” Lincoln had said weeks earlier as they’d snuggled in bed, thankful for the body warmth against the chill of the frigid outdoors that constantly knocked against their windows begging to get in. “And you need to take it easy in your condition.”

She peeked up at him from above the tip of the down comforter that was up to her nose.

“Oh, you mean the condition you put me in,” she teased. “You sound just like my grandmother. I’m only four months pregnant, not disabled. Women work right up until the last minute these days.”

“That’s all those other women.” He pulled her close and placed his hand on her rounded belly. “My woman is special. And just to show you how special…remember how many times you told me you wanted to see Patti when she was in concert?”

She sat up, the chill forgotten. “Zillions.”

“Well, I have two tickets for her special Valentine’s Day performance at Lincoln Center.”

“Get out!” She beamed in delight and planted a big kiss on his lips. “See, you are a decent guy. I don’t care what the
National Enquirer
says about you,” she said, laughter ringing in her voice.

“Am I the greatest or what?” he joked, pulling her even closer.

“Hmm, let me check,” she said as her head disappeared beneath the covers.

The days leading up to the concert flew by, and before Desiree realized it, Valentine’s Day was upon her and as usual she was unorganized and behind schedule.

She fished through her lingerie drawer for a pair of stockings, only to find one lone pair with runs.

“Damn it!” She checked her watch. They were scheduled to leave at seven. It was already six and if she knew Lincoln, he’d be ready to walk out of the door in a half hour.

She contemplated wearing a pantsuit to cover the runs, but of course she hadn’t made time to stop at the cleaner’s. She’d run out of options and was running out of time.

While Lincoln was in the shower, she put on her coat, grabbed her purse and darted out. She could get a pair of cheap pantyhose from the corner store and be back in a flash.

Her next-door neighbor’s five-year-old son, Sean, was forever dropping one of his action figures in the hall or on the stairs. Desiree generally made it a point to be on the lookout and had on more than several occasions spoken with Sean’s mother about it with only intermittent results.

Tonight her mind was on getting to the store and back before Lincoln started with his impatient pacing. That and a long-overdue night out on the town with her man. She didn’t see the black Hot Wheels racing car on the third step. And the next thing she knew she was sliding down the stairs. She grabbed the banister to try to break the fall and felt every muscle in her belly scream in protest as her back made contact with the steps on her way down.

Miraculously she didn’t go down head over heels. For several moments she lay on the next-to-last step, terrified, expecting the worst. She pulled in long, slow breaths and gingerly rose to her feet, using the railing for support. She took the final two stairs with caution.

On solid ground she made a mental assessment of her body, inch by inch. Her heart was racing out of control and there was a dull throb in her back and she was sure she’d bruised her knee. She pressed her hand to her stomach and felt the telltale flutter of life deep in her womb. She released a relieved breath. Her baby was all right.

Taking her time now, she went to the store, picked up her stockings and came back to the apartment.

“Where were you?” Lincoln asked, running a towel across his face as Desiree walked into the bedroom.

“Had to pick up some stockings.”

“Well, we need to step on it. You know how tough it is to park around there.” He looked at her for a moment. A frown creased his forehead. He stepped closer to her. “Are you feeling okay? Your face looks strained. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. Really. It’s just that I know how much you don’t like to rush and I need to get ready, that’s all.”

He stared into her eyes. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not feeling well we don’t have to go. Nothing’s more important to me than you and our baby.”

Desiree forced herself to smile and pressed her finger to his chin. “You worry too much. I’m fine. Now let me go and get ready.”

The next thing she remembered was the sound of sirens and looking up into Lincoln’s worried face as they rode to the hospital in an ambulance.

“You’re going to be all right, Desi,” he murmured over and over. He stroked her brow as another cramp tore through her stomach.

But she wasn’t fine and she’d never be fine again.

* * *

“Earth to Desiree, earth to Desiree.”

Desiree moved the towel from her face, and the room came back into focus. “Huh?”

“A towel, could you pass me one?”

“Sure. Sorry,” she said absently. She wrapped her towel around her body, tucking it beneath her arms and walked out of the bathroom.

When Lincoln came out he found her sitting on the side of the bed staring into space.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked gently, sensing that she was on the verge of slipping into the private sanctuary of her mind where she shut out everyone and everything, including him. It had ruined their relationship once, when they didn’t confront it head-on. Not this time.

“Talk to me. Whatever it is.” He tightened the towel around his waist and waited. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

Desiree glanced up at him, clear-eyed and resolute.

“I was thinking about the day I lost the baby.”

His stomach muscles tightened. He didn’t move. He wanted her to talk.

“I’ve always wondered, if I had told you right away instead of pretending that everything was fine, would the baby have had a chance?” She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know and I guess I will never know. But what I did to you was wrong. I shut you out and grieved alone as if your loss was not as great as mine. And I lost five years of being able to be loved by you and me loving you back.”