Standing in the Shadows (61 page)

"You know how I figured it out, in the end?" he asked.

She dug for her Kleenex and gestured for him to go on.

"I went to the clinic," he said. "Sean saw Tonia there when I was in the coma. I checked it out. The only Tonia Vasquez who had ever worked there was in her sixties, and retired years before."

"Oh," she said. "I see."

"And that wasn't all. They showed me the guest register."

Erin covered her face and braced herself.

"I found your name there, Erin. Every single day that I was in that coma, you came in to see me."

She peeked through her fingers at him, and tried to smile. "Whoops," she whispered. "Busted."

He did not smile back. He just waited.

Erin let her hands drop. "I heard somewhere that it can help people in a coma, if you sing to them or talk to them or read to them," she said. "I can't sing, and I had never been able to think of anything to say to you even when you were conscious, let alone in a coma. But I can read. I remembered once you said you liked thrillers. I bought a Dean Koontz novel,
Fear Nothing
. I picked it out for the title. Then I got
Seize the Night
, since it was the sequel."

She paused. He just waited, eyes averted. His face was as still as if it were carved out of granite.

"At the end of
Seize the Night
, the hero, Chris, proposes to his girlfriend," she said. "It made me cry. I closed the book, and I started to talk to you. For the first time, I just held your hand and talked."

He let out a jerky sigh, and rubbed his face. "What did you say?"

Tears were running down her face. She dug a Kleenex out of her pocket and mopped them up. "I told you how I felt about you. How much I wanted you to wake up. How badly I hoped that someday we could be together. That was the last time I came."

His head jerked around. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because that night, you woke up," she said.

He looked baffled. "Why? Why stop, after all that? Why didn't you come to see me anymore?"

She blew her nose. "Oh, please. There you were, barely conscious, in terrible pain, just finding out that your partner had been murdered. I thought some silly, crushed-out girl demanding your attention was the last thing you needed. I was embarrassed. I didn't want to bother you."

He stood up, so suddenly his chair shot back and crashed against the wall behind him. "Bother me? Jesus, Erin. Is that why you didn't call this week? You were embarrassed? You didn't want to
bother
me?"

"Connor, I—".

"Why the hell do you think I woke up?" he asked furiously. "Did it ever occur to you to ask yourself that question?"

She pressed her hands over her mouth and shook her head.

He threw his hands up. His face was tight with pain. "I would've come back from the dead if I heard you say you wanted me."

He stalked out of the kitchen.

She lunged for him and grabbed his arm. "Connor?"

He spun around. It was impossible to tell who grabbed who. They fell toward each other, giving in to the immense, inevitable force of gravity. They came together in a wild, desperate, clinging kiss.

Somehow they ended up in a trembling knot on his living room carpet. She scrambled on top of him and twined herself around his body, shoving his T-shirt up. She was starving for the sumptuous details of his beautiful body, every dip and curve, every bulge of hard muscle, every sensitive hollow, every silky tuft of hair. He was real, he wanted her, and she craved every salty, earthy, delicious inch of him.

He grabbed her wrist. "Wait. Slow down."

"No?" She rubbed the glow of heat between her thighs against him. "No?"

"No more playing around," he said flatly. "I want it all. I'm not putting out again until my ring is on your finger. So don't even start with that sex goddess stuff." His bright eyes challenged her to object.

A smile started, deep inside her, in the secret place where blushes and tears were born. A joy so deep and explosive, her body shone with it, expanding into infinite space. "You're serious?"

"No ring, no sex," he said sternly.

"You are kidding, right? You couldn't deny me. I won't allow it. I'll use all my powers to seduce you. It's a matter of pride."

He propped himself up onto his elbows. "Forget it. I'm no fool. I know how this works. Why buy the cow if you get the milk for free?"

She laughed, but her eyes were overflowing. "That's so crass."

Connor pushed himself up, dug into a tattered pocket on his cargo pants. He handed her a small black velvet box, and looked away quickly. "I've been carrying this around with me for more than a week," he said. "If you don't like it, we can look for something else."

She jammed her soggy tissue against her nose and flipped it open.

It was an antique ring. A faceted oval aquamarine, rich with shifting shades of pale, milky blue and green, was suspended within a filigreed circle of platinum. It was ethereal, unique. Exquisite.

The colors in the stone swam and blended in her eyes, into a swirl of green, blue and white light. Her throat was too tight to speak.

"I didn't figure you for the traditional diamond type," he said warily. "This, well… it fit my fantasy of something you might like."

"Your fantasy fits me fine," she whispered. "It's so beautiful."

He took the box from her and pulled the ring out. He looked into her eyes. "Will you wear it?"

She held out her left hand without hesitation. "Yes."

He slipped it onto her finger. He pressed her hand against his mouth, and held it against his cheek. "Oh, God," he said shakily. "That was really scary. And I got through it. Look at me. I'm still alive."

The ring glowed on her hand, as if light were shining behind it. "It fits perfectly," she said softly. "We don't even have to size it."

"I already sized it. I tried on one of your rings. It came to right here, on my smallest finger. I just told that to the jeweler."

She was staggered. "You were already convinced? Back then?"

"Hell, yes. God favors those who are prepared. That's what my crazy daddy used to say, as he taught us how to build a bomb or perform an emergency tracheotomy."

She laughed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, Connor. I'm sorry for every time I wasn't brave enough to tell you so."

He kissed her tears away. "Do you trust me, Erin?"

The longing in his voice made her heart ache. She pressed her forehead to his. "With my life, with my heart. With everything. Forever."

A shudder went through his body, as if he were shaking off the shadow of some old lingering fear. "Will you come upstairs with me?"

"I would go anywhere with you," she said.

They scrambled to their feet, and he took her hand. She followed him up the stairs and into a big, sparsely furnished bedroom. Golden afternoon sun slanted through bamboo shades. Simple white walls, an antique dresser, a king-sized bed with a rough, textured coverlet of silvery charcoal fabric. There was a long handmade chest beneath the window. It was plain, almost medieval in its simplicity.

He watched her look around his room. Each step they went through felt like a holy ceremony. A series of doorways that led them ever deeper into the most secret and tender parts of each other.

"I love your room," she said gently. "It suits you."

"I've dreamed of luring you in here for so long," he said. "I even changed the sheets this morning. For luck."

Erin tugged her T-shirt over her head, unhooked her bra, kicked off her sneakers. "God favors those who are prepared?"

"Yeah." His cheeks flushed as he stared at her. He laughed at himself and rubbed his hand over his face. "Jesus. How do you do this to me?" he said, in a wondering voice. "I feel like I'm thirteen, again."

She shimmied out of her jeans and panties, and shoved his chest. He sat down on the bed as if his knees were too weak to hold him.

"So?" she teased. "I'm wearing your ring, Connor. Nothing else. I held up my side of the deal. What are you going to do with me now?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his hot face against her belly. "Everything," he said. "Everything you want. Anything you can dream of. For the rest of our lives."

She buried her nose in his fragrant hair. His lips moved against her skin, his hands moved over her body. He knew her so well, all the ways to make her quiver and go soft and wet and desperate for him. He slid his clever fingers between her legs, stroking her with loving skill.

She swayed, her knees buckling, and grabbed his shirt.

"Enough teasing." She yanked it up over his head. "It's been ten days, and I want you. So get ready to put out, Connor McCloud."

She shoved him down onto the bed and attacked his belt. He laughed up at her in pure delight. "But we just got engaged," he protested. "I thought
that a tender, romantic vibe would be more—"

"Think again." She yanked the cargo pants off and stared down at his sleek, powerful body with hungry eyes. "You can be tender and romantic afterwards. When I'm tired."

"OK," he said cheerfully. He lunged for the bedside stand and rummaged in the drawer until he found an unopened box of condoms. She loved the way the muscles in his arms and back and belly flexed and rippled. He rolled the condom onto himself, jerked her down on top of him, and rolled her over.

It was delicious, exactly what she craved, to curl herself around his lithe, hot, muscular body. Everything she wanted to do with him, all the pleasures she wanted to bestow upon him crowded through her mind at once. She resented the constraints of time and space that forced her to do one thing at a time. She wiggled into the position she wanted. She was one hot, aching glow of need, her sheath throbbing with each pulse of her heart. "Now," she begged. "Please."

He filled her with himself, and the first wave of pleasure broke over her then and there, before he even began to move.

She fell apart in his arms, in a cleansing, healing storm of tears.

"Oh, Erin," he murmured. He cradled her face, kissed her tears away.

She moved beneath him, still weeping, and finally understood the nature of the truth she had faced in Novak's house of horrors. Chaos did rule. But love had lifted away the shadow of Novak's twisted loathing from that truth. Love had exalted it.

Love was chaos, too. She couldn't control it and didn't want to try. Everything beautiful and wild and free was part of that chaos. She finally caught a glimpse of the rich, beautiful design that underlaid it. She would never resist it again: surprises and wonder, heat and light and laughter, blazing color and raucous noise. Messes and mistakes, change and growth and risk. Magic, and love.

Everything that made life sweet, that gave it meaning.

Connor lifted his face from hers. "Come to Vegas with me," he said. "Let's get married tomorrow."

"But I… but we—"

"I want it nailed down. I want my wedding night with my beautiful bride, and I want it now."

She laughed. "But it's a sure thing. We just have to wait until—"

"I've waited long enough."

"That's a dirty trick," she told him sternly. "And this isn't the first time you've played it on me."

"What trick?" He fluttered his lashes, all innocence.

"You know. Springing something big on me while we're making love. When you're inside me. It gives you an unfair advantage."

She could feel his smile against her mouth as he kissed her. "It goes both ways, you know," he said. "You have the same advantage that I do. You just haven't used it yet. Come on, sweetheart. Take a road trip with me. It's the perfect time. We're still unemployed, but probably not for long. I have some money left. We'll get a honeymoon suite at a cheesy casino hotel with a Jacuzzi tub and a vibrating bed. We'll order out for room service. I'll buy you an evening dress. On our way back, we can explore the desert together. Ever see the sun set in the desert?"

She rubbed against him, so that her sensitive nipples brushed against his chest. The contact was a rippling thrill. "My mother would never forgive you if you cheated her out of planning our wedding."

"Who says she needs to know? We'll do it again for her benefit. Another wedding night, another honeymoon? I'm all for it."

He was grinning, glowing with happiness. So gorgeous, her heart was going to explode with tenderness. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. "Persuade me," she ordered. "Go on. Do your worst."

"Huh?" He looked baffled, but intrigued.

"Go on. Bend me to your will. Overwhelm me with your masterful charisma. Sweep me off my feet. You know I love it."

"You're already on your back," he observed.

"Well, then. You have a head start," she said. "Lucky you."

His smile grooves carved themselves deep into his lean face, and she sighed with delight. She was going to be dazzled by that gorgeous grin for as many years as luck would grant her.

"OK, fine," he said. "This is how it's going to be. I'm going to make passionate love to you until I reduce you to a puddle of sated bliss. Then I'll carry you out to my car. When you wake up, we'll be speeding through the middle of a beautiful nowhere. Mountains, deserts, who knows what. The sun will just be coming up, turning everything pink. If you give me any trouble, I'll pull off the road, lay you out on the hood of my car, and go down on you while you stare up at the morning star, glowing in that huge, open sky. Just you and me and one lonely eagle circling up there to watch us. What do you say? Sound like a plan?"

She pulled him closer. "Oh, God, I love you. I love this."

He hugged her so close, their hearts thudded in unison. "I love you, too. But what about my plan? Is it masterful enough? Will you be swept away and overwhelmed? Or do I need to fine-tune?"

"It sounds pretty great," she assured him. "But what about the part where I spread you out on the hood of the car under that big open sky? Fair's fair, right?"

They gazed into each other's eyes. Connor shook his head. "Wow, sweetheart," he said softly. "This is going to be one hell of a road trip."