I Know Who Holds Tomorrow (27 page)

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Authors: Francis Ray

BOOK: I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
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“The nurse suggested it,” she said, her voice distracted.
He frowned and cut off the water. He didn't like the way Madison sounded. And as soon as Manda was feeling better and asleep for the night, he and Madison were going to have a serious conversation.
 
 
Camille chose her dress with care. Antoine's was a very exclusive restaurant. She'd been there dozens of time, but tonight was different. She knew it was because of the man sitting across from her.
Gordon's salt-and-pepper hair gleamed in the soft glow of the crystal chandelier. His black suit fit his elegant build perfectly. She didn't need
the pinot noir to make her feel light-headed, Gordon had already accomplished that.
“Tell me about your ex-husband.”
The mellow feeling evaporated. Camille set her wineglass down.
“That bad?”
She simply stared at him.
“My wife and I were married five years when she was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Six months later she was gone. We had twins, Adrian and Adair, a boy and girl. They're college sophomores and doing a summer internship at a newspaper in Austin.”
“You and your wife were probably very happy.”
“We were.”
“Congratulations,” she said, appalled at the tinge of bitterness in her voice. “I'm sorry. Maybe this was a mistake.”
“We've already discussed that.” Gordon cut into his bloodred prime rib. “Do you like to dance?”
“Do you always shift topics so quickly?” she asked.
“When necessary.” He nodded toward her barely touched fillet of sole. “Not to your liking? I'll get the waiter.”
She picked up her fork when he started to lift his hand. “Don't even think it. Howard would have a conniption fit if he heard you.”
“The chef?”
“And owner.” She took a bite, savored. “Delicious.” She looked up to see Gordon watching her. Her breath snagged.
“I'm looking forward to finding out for myself before the night is over just how delicious.”
He wasn't talking about food. The heat in his black eyes told her as much. “I think we've also discussed that self-assurance of yours.”
“A black man who doesn't have self-assurance won't get very far in the corporate world,” he told her.
He had her there. “Was the climb bumpy?”
“You jumped on that one, didn't you?” he replied. At her innocent look, he smiled. “From day one. I come from a family of seven children.” His smile broadened at the astonishment in her eyes. “That many in a family teaches you early how to stick up for yourself. Daddy left after I was born. Mama worked hard to get us through high school. Two of us made it through college. Mama cried through the entire ceremony.”
“It must be wonderful, knowing you haven't disappointed your parents.” Wistfulness entered her voice.
He reached out and placed his hand on top of hers. “I think you may be judging your mother too harshly. It's obvious to anyone who sees the two of you together for five seconds that she loves you.”
“Love and pride are two different things.” She pulled her hand back. “I'd like to leave now.”
Gordon felt her putting up a wall. He wasn't about to let that happen. He'd give her space for now, but later … “Certainly.” He signaled their waiter.
 
 
Camille's thoughts were chaotic as Gordon drove her home. He was doing what she asked. Why wasn't she happy about it? Silly question—and one she knew the answer to. She wanted to be with him. Somehow she wanted him to care enough not to let her walk away. She rubbed her head.
“Headache?”
“No.” She moistened her lips.
Gordon turned into the drive of her gated complex, stopped at the manned gatehouse, then drove on. Soon he'd be at her house and out of her life. She just wished she could be as happy about it as she had thought she would be.
Parking the Infiniti, Gordon came around, opened Camille's door, and lightly took her arm. For once she found her key immediately and opened her door. This was it, she thought, and turned. “Thanks fo—”
His mouth descended on hers. The shock of his lips, then the pleasure, zipped through her. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him closer, sinking into the kiss and into him. She wasn't aware of him backing her into her condo, of him closing the door.
When he lifted his head, their labored breathing was harsh in the room lit only by a gracefully curved iron lamp on the end table. “Did you think I'd let you walk away from me?”
“I—”
Sharp teeth nipped her lip, then suckled. Camille's insides quivered. “Did you?” he repeated.
Her dazed eyes focused on him. “I—I guess I hoped not.”
His lips took hers again, hot and demanding, drawing her into him, taking her deep, faster than a kiss had ever done before. She had no will nor did she want any. She simply followed where he and the pleasure led.
His hands framed her face and waited until her thick lashes lifted. “I want you, but I'm willing to wait. It's just not a night that I want. Do you understand?”
With her body clamoring for his hands and mouth, it was difficult to concentrate. She hadn't known she could want like this. She tried to kiss him and he pulled his head back.
“I want more.”
The haze cleared. She stared at him. “More?”
“I've never been a hit-and-run kind of guy. Since Karen died, there have been few women in my life.”
She backed up. Swallowed. The butterflies in her stomach turned to lead. “I—I think you better define ‘more.'”
Gordon saw the panic in her face and made a quick adjustment in what he had been about to say. “I'm rather old-fashioned. I believe in one woman, one man, at one time.”
Her eyes snapped. “You think I sleep around?”
“If I thought that, I wouldn't be standing here,” he said. “Why do you always believe that I think the worst about you?” Something flickered in her eyes. His voice gentled. “Is that what he thought?”
Evading his hand, she turned on another lamp. Bright light flooded the room done almost entirely in white with splashes of red and yellow in the side chair and pillows. A mustard pot of sunflowers and a bowl of apples and pears in a metal centerpiece sat on the wooden coffee table. “You'd better go.
“Not if the entire Dallas Police Department's SWAT team came.” He went to stand in front of her. “Talk to me.”
She folded her arms. “Why should I?”
“Because, in spite of everything we have going against us, there's a connection between us.”
Her chin lifted. “Hormones.”
His hands gently closed around her upper arm, felt her tremble, heard her breath hitch. “How many ‘hormonal' feelings like this have you felt in the last year?”
She wanted to lie, considered, then felt the erratic thump of her heart. “None.”
The tension building in him eased. “I see you and I forget you're probably twenty years younger than I am.” His eyes narrowed. “How old are you, anyway?”
Since it was the first time she had seen Gordon the slightest bit exasperated, she enjoyed the moment. “Thirty-four.”
He groaned. “Make that twenty-three years.”
She chuckled. Something she hadn't done with a man in a long time. Gordon might irritate, but he interested her as few men had. Plus, there was no denying the sexual pull between them. “Then maybe we won't have to worry about other things.”
“Wanna bet?”
The sharp glitter in his eyes had her body quivering. The only thing she'd bet was that he didn't take Viagra.
“So how do you feel about dating an older man?”
She answered honestly. “I don't think of you as older when I look at you.” She wrinkled her mouth. “You certainly don't kiss like one.”
His teeth flashed in a satisfied grin. He braced his hands on her hips. “That's because you inspire me.”
His words curled through her like mulled wine. “You're rather inspiring, yourself.”
“Why don't we inspire each other?” His mouth took hers again, this time gentle and slow, as if they had all the time in the world to sample the taste and textures of each other. His hands moved down to her hips, softly kneading as his mouth played and savored her, learning what she liked and what excited her.
“Can I see you tomorrow night?”
“I'm leaving tomorrow for a conference in Houston for four days,” she said, her disappointment obvious.
His fingers massaged the small of her back. “What time do you leave and get back?”
“My plane leaves from Love Field at one tomorrow afternoon and I arrive back Wednesday at six P.M.” Her fingertips stroked his chest through his cotton shirt. They itched to touch bare skin.
“How about I take you, then pick you up, and then we can have a late
dinner?” His mind was already formulating the dinner and what would happen afterwards.
Camille read his thoughts as accurately as if had spoken the words out loud. “Pick me up at eleven-thirty.”
“How about ten, and we can have champagne brunch at Antares?” Now that he knew what he wanted, he wanted to see her every possible chance he got.
Her body melted against the hard line of his body a bit more. “I'd like that.” Her replay came out a bit breathless.
“I'll see you at ten.” After another soul-stirring kiss Gordon made himself release her and walk to the door. “Good night, Camille.”
“Good night, Gordon, and thanks for a wonderful evening.”
“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you.”
Camille blushed, something she thought she had outgrown, and was very pleased to find she hadn't. The knowing grin on Gordon's face pleased her even more. Locking the door, she went to her room to start packing.
 
 
“Zachary, it's after one,” Madison whispered. “You should go home.”
“Not until I'm sure she's down for the night,” he whispered back as he stared down at Manda asleep in her crib. The room lay in soft shadows. The only light in the room came from the unicorn nightlight. “You grab some sleep. I'll watch her.”
Madison sighed. Stubborn, wonderful man. She didn't know what she would have done over the past hours without him. She understood a little of what Little Thomas's mother was talking about. After a while a sixteen-pound baby made your arms ache. But when she neared that point, Zachary was there to take Manda, to sing to her in an off-key voice she hadn't seemed to mind, to read to her from her new books. He was a man a woman could count on.
“Since you're too big to toss out, at least go sit in the love seat and prop your feet on the hassock.”
“I'm fine,” he said without looking up.
“Zachary, she's all right. She's not running a fever. She took her bottle and she hasn't moved in thirty minutes.”
“We thought that the last time.”
He had her there. He had been about to leave around eleven when Manda woke up in her crib and let them know she wasn't happy about this teething business. “And they call mothers overprotective,” she muttered.
He finally looked up. She couldn't see his eyes clearly, but she heard the concern in his voice. “I just don't want her to wake up thinking that she's all alone.”
His sincerity touched her. She rested her hand on his tense shoulder. “She has us, her great-aunt, and my family. She has people who care,” she said. “She'd have her grandparents if I'd handled things better. They may not ever accept her.”
Pulling her hand away, she went to take a seat on the love seat near the French doors. She picked up a pillow that echoed the rose wallpaper and the drapes on the half-canopy bed and hugged it to her chest.
Zachary didn't care about the hurt feelings of A.J. or Vanessa. He did care about Madison's. Adjusting the thermal blanket on Manda, he took a seat beside Madison, taking care that their bodies didn't touch. “Tell me what happened.”
Gathering the pillow closer, she did, and ended by saying, “I'm still not sure if I told them because I wanted to show them that Wes wasn't the perfect man they thought or to let them know Manda was their grandchild.”
“Would it be so bad if you did want to show Wes up?”
Her dark head whipped around. “That would be mean.”
“So you were mean.” Callused hands settled on her hunched shoulders and turned her toward him. “You're human.”

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