Present Danger (27 page)

James had always thought he knew a great deal about women. When it came to one like Aunie, however, he admitted he didn’t know jack, and his prior experiences weren’t much help in this particular situation. Except for his mother, who had never been home much, he’d never lived with a woman in his life. Hell, he thought with automatic defensiveness, he wasn’t actually living with a woman now.

Yeah. Right.

Okay, he was practically living with her.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he had no idea what he was going to do next. He’d thought that once he got in her pants … Okay, the truth was he hadn’t thought beyond that, hadn’t even allowed himself to think of that much. But if he
had
given the matter some thought, he would have expected to be quickly bored.

That’s the way it had always worked in the past.

He sure as hell hadn’t expected this constant neediness, and it grated on him. About the only thing he managed to keep inviolate these days was his apartment, using it when she was out or at school, always meeting her in her place, never in his. Big deal. He kept her out; but the minute he knew she was home,
he was down the hall, panting to be with her. Christ. Why couldn’t he stay away?

He felt so different with her. Territorial, possessive, protective, all sorts of emotions he never in a million years would have associated with himself. Even sex was different.

Now, there was a masterpiece of understatement—sex was especially different. Always before, he’d picked big girls who liked it rowdy and a little rough. He showed them a good time and then he was out the door. From the first time he’d contemplated what it would be like with Aunie, however, he’d assumed he’d need to exercise more than a little customary care with her. To his surprise, she’d proved to like it rowdy and a little rough, too. Sometimes. But then the other night, when he’d tweaked a nipple a little too enthusiastically, he’d learned that what excited her one day could hurt her the next.

He’d whipped his hand back guiltily at her little gasp of pain, but she had reached for it with both hands and pressed it over her entire breast. “It’s okay,” she’d whispered. “They’re a little tender tonight, is all. Just hold it like this.”

For the first time in a long time, he’d remembered her fragility. He knew it drove her crazy when he referred to it, especially if he were foolish enough to intimate it might prevent her from accomplishing a given goal. She seemed to think she was ten feet tall. And most of the time, her sturdiness had surprised him. But the truth was, there were times when she
was
fragile.

He hadn’t been able to handle the thought of hurting her and so he’d made love to her very carefully that night and very, very slowly. His reward was discovering that slow made her wild.

God, it had been so sweet: her hands sliding restlessly, digging into his back, pulling his ponytail, gripping his buttocks while she thrust her pelvis sharply upward. Her breath coming in shuddery little exhalations; her heavy-lidded dark eyes losing focus as they stared at him. And then the whispers, starting slow and sweet, escalating in urgency. “Jimmy? Oh God, James? Oh
Jimmy,
please … Uhhh? … Oh Gawd, I love you, Jimmy, I love you, Jimmy, I love … Oh
Gawd
!
”

He’d felt like the top of his head was blowing off and he’d come in violent, scalding jets. And ever since then, he’d found himself making love to her slowly—God, so slowly. Holding back until his eyes began to cross and his balls turned blue.

Holding back because he knew if he did, then ultimately he’d hear her say, “I love you, Jimmy.” Despising his desperate need to hear it.

Did she mean it? Or was it just some knee-jerk reaction, words she felt were necessary to express before she got off?

He always bottled up his instinctive response. He kissed her with savage concentration; he swallowed hard; he roared his satisfaction to the walls, but he bit back the words that dammed up in his throat every friggin’ time.

God, I love you, Magnolia.

Why was it so impossible to admit? It just was. He could not, would not, say the words aloud. He simply couldn’t. Not as long as he still saw a terror of him in her eyes every time he made her practice her self-defense.

It was getting to the point where he hated those damned sessions as much as she did. She was turning
into a right fine little fighter, but he found her fear of him acutely painful.

It had to be that way, though. She wouldn’t flat-out fight, not fight the way she might one day need to do, unless he could convincingly duplicate Cunningham’s probable actions. There was no point in teaching her to defend herself if all those lessons went up in smoke in the face of an unexpected panic. So he generated a fear, then taught her to function through it.

But he hated it. And he knew instinctively that if he didn’t keep those words locked tight in his chest, he would no longer be capable of pulling it off.

He didn’t know how to deal with the confusion of all these raw emotions clawing away inside of him, but the animal instinct that had always served him so well urged him to protect himself. On a deep, rarely acknowledged level, he simply didn’t trust it to last. Guys like him did not end up with women like Aunie Franklin. Sooner or later, he was sure, she was going to take a good long look at their differences; and when she did, she would probably be packed and gone so fast, he wouldn’t see her for dust. So he prevented her from making any memories in his apartment, and he held a part of himself aloof—protection against future pain.

As for the here and now … about all he could do was bite his tongue and swallow back words that were better left unsaid.

“So, you haven’t had a call in … how long?” “Three weeks.” Aunie had her eyes closed and her face raised to the sun. She and Mary were spending their lunch hour on the grass plaza in front of Performance
Hall at school. This was the third day that the weather had reached the midseventies. There was a light breeze and students lounged in various stages of undress all over the plaza, working on their tans. Mary was already a pretty golden color. Aunie merely enjoyed the warmth, since every exposed inch of her skin was slathered with SPF 40 sun block. Without it, she’d burn, blister, and peel. In her next life, she was coming back as a six-footer with an olive complexion.

“That’s good,” Mary commented. There was a moment of silence, then she asked, “So, why don’t you look relaxed?”

Aunie’s eyes snapped open and she turned her head to stare at her friend. “Because James won’t let me. God, Mary, I could really use a break from all this, but he just keeps pushin’, pushin’, pushin’. What’s Bobby’s phone number? If you’ve gotta fight, what’s the most vulnerable area on a man’s body?” She snapped her fingers. “Quick. Otis’s phone number!” She rubbed the little wrinkle that had popped up between her delicate, dark eyebrows. “It seems like he’s either making love to me or tryin’ his damnedest to drive me beyond endurance with his little quizzes and tests. Do you know that we’ve never even been on a real date? He’s all but livin’ with me and he’s never once taken me out.”

“Are you unhappy with him, Aunie?”

“Unhappy? No. I just don’t feel very … secure. He warned me a long time ago that he wasn’t big on commitment and I thought I was okay with that. But I don’t think I am, really. I want more, Mary. I love him so much, and I want the security of knowing he loves me, too. Sometimes, I truly believe he does. But then he gets all cool and reserved on me. He withdraws into himself and I just can’t reach him. I
hate worryin’ that today’s the day he’s gonna decide he’s bored with me.”

“I really don’t see that happening. You ask me, he’s runnin’ scared.”

Aunie looked at her in amazed disbelief. “This is a joke, right?” When Mary didn’t offer the punch line, she demanded, “Runnin’ scared from what? I don’t think there’s anything in this world that James Ryder is afraid of.”

“I think he’s scared silly of you. Of you leaving him. Of you getting hurt. Jeez, Aunie, he guards you like a starving dog with a tasty bone.”

“Believe me, the last thing he has to fear is my leaving him, and he knows it. Every time he makes love to me I ramble on and on about how much I love him. I try not to, ‘cuz I’m afraid it’ll scare him off, but I can’t seem to help myself.”

“Sex talk.” Mary shrugged. “He won’t take that seriously. Everybody does it.”

“He doesn’t.”

“That just means that he’s the type who, when he finally does get around to saying the words, will really mean them. Trust those feelings that tell you he really loves you. Better yet, why don’t you try a little communication? I can almost guarantee that it wouldn’t hurt for the two of you to climb out of bed long enough to talk to each other.”

“I know, I know. I say I wanna be a grown-up, then I whine like a seventh grader with her first real crush. But I’m a slow starter. I’ve never felt anything remotely like this before and I’m terrified of losing it. Every time I open my mouth to broach the subject I chicken out, because what if he says, ‘No I don’t love you, and I don’t want your love either—all I wanna do is fuck?’ I honest to God don’t know what
I’d do.” She shook off the mantle of depression this conversation had produced. “Let’s talk about somethin’ else. It’s too nice a day for worrying about things you can’t change.”

“Okay,” Mary replied agreeably. She planted her chin in her palm and smiled. “So, tell me. Aside from the obvious, Ms. Franklin, what
is
the most vulnerable area of a man’s body?”

Aunie laughed and ticked them off on her fingers. “The obvious, of course: testicles. Then there’s throat, eyes, nose, and kneecaps.”

Aunie was surprised to find Paul as well as James waiting for her when she left her last class. She waved to Mary, who was making her way toward them against the flow of hall traffic, and then turned to James’s brother. “Hello, Paul. It’s nice to see you.”

Paul gave her a shy smile. “Hi ya. Hope y’ don’t mind my tagging along with Jimmy.”

“Of course not. Did y’all do somethin’ together this afternoon?”

“Yeah. I’m moving into a new place on Queen Anne and Jimmy took me shopping for a new couch.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t trust my taste; it’s been said it’s all in my mouth.”

“It’s not an exaggeration, either,” James contributed. “You should’ve seen the plaid Herculon monstrosity he was leanin’ toward.”

“I suppose you steered him toward black leather, instead?”

“Nah,” Paul answered. “We ended up with something real nice.” He launched into a description of it for her.

Mary, who had approached a moment earlier, took
advantage of Aunie’s preoccupation with Paul and leaned toward James. “Listen,” she murmured, “Aunie really wants to go out on a date.”

All the good humor fled James’s face and his eyes turned cold and flat. His hand whipped out and gripped Mary’s wrist. “With whom?” he demanded.

Mary stared at him with openmouthed amazement. “With you, you idiot,” she snapped and pried his fingers off her arm. She rubbed feeling back into her skin. “She said you’ve never taken her out.”

Dull color climbed high into James’s angular cheekbones. He noticed her still rubbing her wrist and glanced quickly at Aunie. Thank God, she hadn’t noticed him manhandling her friend. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m dandy.” Mary studied him for a moment. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“You’re okay.” Mary arched an eyebrow at him and he admitted, “All right, maybe I’m still a little pissed about the way you took Aunie out to pick up men.”

Her jaw dropped. “My God,” she said incredulously, “that was nearly five months ago! You sure as hell hold a grudge for someone who didn’t even have a relationship with her at the time.” She watched color tint his face. “For your information, James, I didn’t take her out to pick up men, I took her out to celebrate finals and have a few laughs. If we’d seriously gone hunting for bear, buddy, then trust me, she wouldn’t have ended up babysitting you that night.”

James plowed his fingers through his hair until his fingertips bumped the rubber band holding back his hair. He stared at Mary as he gripped his ponytail. Finally, a large shoulder inched toward his ear. “I suppose,” he admitted.

“You suppose what?” Aunie inquired, turning back to them.

“He supposes he can put up with me for dinner tonight, when what he really planned was to have you all to himself,” Mary supplied smoothly when James, his expression uncharacteristically blank, just stared at Aunie.

“Good, you can feed me, too,” Paul said with a small smile. “I’m afraid to drop by unannounced. Bobby said he did, and you gave him the bum’s rush.”

James flushed. He
had
rather unceremoniously hustled Bobby out of Aunie’s apartment the other night the instant she’d returned from a session at the gym. She’d been all flushed and dewy from her workout, and he’d had a sudden need to get to her before the sweat had a chance to dry.

“If you don’t mind potluck, you’re both welcome,” Aunie said warmly. “But, Paul, you and James are goin’ to have to entertain yourselves for a while. Mary and I have to study.”

“No problem.”

James thought about both their guests later that evening after they had left. He supposed Mary wasn’t really all that bad. She had a fairly decent sense of humor and she loved Aunie. She could be worse.

Paul’s company he had really enjoyed. It had been so many years since he’d been around his brother when he wasn’t high or looking to get high that he’d all but forgotten about his sense of humor. When they were kids, Paul’s sense of the ridiculous had always been closely in tune with James’s.

Unfortunately, of the four Ryder boys, Paul had had the most difficulty finding an identity for himself. In those days, he’d been shy and insecure with anyone who wasn’t immediate family, and James imagined
that had contributed a good deal to his years of addiction. In the beginning, cocaine had given him a false sense of courage. It had made him feel indomitable, and then it had systematically begun to destroy him.

But today, James could see the quiet pride of self that Paul was developing. He’d talked to him at length about the program and his encounter groups, about the feeling of self-respect he gained every day he survived without giving in to the need for a snort. He’d had a pocket full of money today, and he’d been like a kid in a candy store as they’d shopped for furniture for his new apartment, proud as a boy with a shiny new bike as he’d shown James his new place. It wasn’t huge or deluxe, and Paul had known it, but he’d also known it was respectable and nice … a far cry from the dump he’d lived in for so many years.