The Marriage Pact (17 page)

I watched Mom shuffle out the door, wondering what the hell I was going to do when I went back to work. The hours of a doctor were demanding, no matter what kind of schedule you were promised initially. There would be plenty of days when I couldn’t get home to check on her. At least if something came up, I’d be close by.

With a groan, I turned over, trying to banish the unwelcome thoughts. I really couldn’t think about this right now. An image of Brody, the way he’d looked the moment before I ran from his room, leapt up to take its place. It seemed all I had to think on these days were things I’d rather not.

I felt terrible for avoiding him, but the longer I did it, the more foolish I felt about finally returning one of his phone calls. What could I say? What excuse could I give that he wouldn’t see right through? And when he did call me on it, I’d just end up right back over his lap, my bottom bared to his punishing hand…

A delicious shiver ran through me and I hated my body for betraying me. This wasn’t normal. It hadn’t felt good—far from it, so why did the thought of another make my insides twist in ways that weren’t altogether horrified? What was
wrong
with me?

That was precisely why I couldn’t talk to Brody. One look at him and all the questions would fade, all my concerns would be forgotten. He was just that way—he took the wind out of my sails with nothing more than a smile. Around him, these things didn’t worry me near enough and that was why, at least until I figured it out, I had to stay away from him.

My cell began to vibrate on my nightstand. It was face down against the wood, so when it shuddered with each ring, the sound was akin to thunder. It was enough to make anyone jump. Still, I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t have to; I knew who would be on the other end.

I pulled a pillow over my head, trying to muffle the noise, but I couldn’t ignore it any more than I could my tumult of confusing emotions.

“Sounds like your phone. You gonna get it?”

With a gasp, I launched up in my bed, staring in wide-eyed shock at Brody who stood in the doorway of my bedroom. “What are you…?”

“You’re not answering any of my calls,” he answered with a shrug. “I thought I’d stop over and make sure you were just ignoring me and not, you know, dead.” His teasing smile took the bite out of his words.

I shook my head mutely, taking in his open plaid shirt that revealed a six-pack that his wife-beater did little to conceal. I let my eyes slide down to his white-washed, torn jeans and swallowed hard. I had to stop ogling him—not only was it embarrassing if he caught on, but it also made it next to impossible to pretend to be mad at him.

“So, not dead,” he continued conversationally. “What then? I can see your phone’s working, so what’s up?”

I studiously avoided his eyes, regrettably forced to turn my attention to my bedspread. I was trapped now; I had to deal with this. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever—did I really want to?—but I hadn’t expected him to just show up on my doorstep, either.

“We have to talk sometime, Shan.”

“Why?” I finally managed.

“Because I… I care about you. A lot, actually. I need to know… did I do something wrong?”

The bark of laughter escaped my lips before I could stop it and even though I slapped my hand over my mouth, there was nothing I could do to take it back.

“I take it that’s a yes?” I heard him sigh when I didn’t answer. “Shana, look at me, please.”

I bit my lip, hard, and tried to fight the way his voice compelled me to obey. It was a fight that I lost, but at least I could console myself with the fact that I’d tried. When I raised my eyes to his, I was taken aback by the uncertainty I saw lurking in his dark depths.

“Talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix this.”

If I’d had trouble speaking before, his vulnerability left my tongue in knots. It was the last thing I expected. He’d seemed so in control, in charge of every situation that I’d never thought he’d look at me with that soul-filled gaze, his face etched with regret. The sight of it made my heart twist painfully in my chest.

“Was it the spanking?”

Just the way he said the
s
word made me flush. From anyone else’s lips, I’d probably just give them a strange look and dismiss it, but hearing it in his deep, sexy voice made my flesh prickle with goose bumps. All I could do was nod.

He began to pace my room, running his hands through his hair as he went.

It was his go-to move when he was nervous and all I could do was watch, wondering at the fact that he was so worked up. Was it… for me? Could I have been wrong? Maybe he really did… was it possible he loved me? The anguish in his face sure made it seem like he might.

Finally, he stopped and turned toward me, pinning me with the intensity in his eyes. “The thing is, I really was just trying to take care of you, Shana. I want you to stay safe and maybe… maybe spanking you wasn’t the best way to get my point across, but it sure seemed like it at the time.”

I flushed brighter, both from the fact that he so casually admitted to having me bare-assed over his lap and from the fact that thinking about it made me ache in places that hadn’t seen any action in over a year. When his words registered, I was almost as shocked by the fact he was admitting that he could be wrong. I didn’t think strong, authoritative Brody ever questioned himself; maybe I’d misjudged him in more ways than one.

“You need someone to look out for you and I’d like to be that person, at least until…”

I took a deep breath, shoving all my fears and doubts as far away from me as I could get them, long enough to admit, “I don’t want anyone else.” I’d spoken almost in a whisper, but I could see from the way that the doubt began to leave his face, from the way that his eyes lit up, that he’d heard me.

“Really?”

Before I could answer, Mom bustled in bringing a tall, frosted glass of tangy orange juice in with her. “Oh, hello, Brody. I didn’t know you were still here. It’s probably about time you headed home, Shana needs her rest. She’s not feeling well.”

I winced—I couldn’t very well admit to the lie, not with him standing right there.

But as it turned out, I didn’t need to. I could see by the smirk that came over his face that he already knew it. “Of course, Mrs. Davidson.” He took a step forward and bent down, putting a kiss on my forehead that practically singed my hair.

God, I was such a mess around him.

He turned to leave, but looked back at me at the last minute. “Feel better, Shan. And I
will
talk to you later.” He arched his eyebrow, giving me one last, warning look before he left.

I gulped, looking at Mom to see if she’d heard the underlying sternness in his voice, but she looked oblivious as she walked over and handed me the juice. I saw right away that it had pieces of pulp floating to the top of the rich, orange liquid, just the way I liked it.

“Take these,” she advised, handing me two dark blue capsules. “It’ll help you sleep and when you wake up, you’ll feel better.”

I gave her a small smile, trying to swallow my guilt. How could I tell her that I lied? How could I tell her that I didn’t trust myself to fall into the deep, dreamless sleep the pills would pull me into when I couldn’t leave her by herself? But she was my mother and I couldn’t say any of those things, not with her kindly smile on me making me feel worse.

Instead, I put the pills under my tongue and pretended to swallow them down with a big gulp of orange juice.

“There, now.” She gave my head a pat. “Get some rest.”

* * *

Despite my noble intentions and the pills I spit into the wastebasket, my eyes felt heavier than lead bricks and once I’d closed them, I lost the battle to stay awake. Once I slipped into sleep, my mind took the liberty of concocting an intensely vivid, wonderfully sensual dream. In it, I found myself face down over Brody’s lap. I didn’t have any of the nagging fears I had in waking life, even though my body was tensed with excitement as I waited for the first swat.

“You want this, don’t you?” Brody coaxed, rubbing his hand over my bottom. “Come on, admit it.”

“Yes,” I heard myself say, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.

“See? That wasn’t hard, was it?”

I didn’t answer and wouldn’t have a chance to say much anyway as his hand came crashing down on my bare behind. It didn’t hurt, really, but it stung enough to make me gasp. I was trying to decide if I liked it or not when another landed, lighter than the first but building on the sting. They fell fast after that, one after the other until I was wiggling my hips—not sure if I wanted to get my butt out of spanking range or if I just wanted him to stop the foreplay already.

“Be still, sweetheart.” He repositioned me and I could feel his knees pressing into my tummy that was already tight with delicious knots of anticipation.

The next time his hand fell, it was harder than all the rest and I bucked over his lap. “Brody?” I gasped.

Without answering, another scorching swat fell. It rang out in the room louder than a firecracker.
Pop!

I lurched up in bed, gasping. My body felt warm and tingly all over and I wanted nothing more than to sink back into my pillows and hunt down the rest of my dream. But the loud, insistent rapping continued and I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again until I figured out what it was. Was that someone at the door?

I stood on wobbly, unsteady legs and walked out of my bedroom, making my way toward the front door. My brain was in such a fog that it didn’t even occur to me that it was probably Brody, back to finish our discussion, until I’d already swung the door open.

I wasn’t prepared for the bright stream of sunlight that hit me. Groaning, I covered my eyes and took a step back. It wasn’t until I was back in the soothing darkness of my house that I saw who’d dropped over for a visit. It was Becky, and she looked anything but happy to see me. In fact, the mixture of disapproval and disgust playing out over her features was enough to make me want to go back to bed and stay there until she’d thawed. Unfortunately, I was moving too slowly to get away from her just now.

“Hello,” I managed, swallowing around the cottony feel of my mouth.

“Well, hi there.” She gave an over-exaggerated wave, her voice falsely cheerful.

“I, uh, I’m glad to see you made it back safely.”

“Oh, well, gee, thanks. Can’t have been too worried though, since you didn’t answer your phone any of the eight times I called.”

“That was you?” I blinked in surprise, my thoughts moving slowly. “I’m sorry, I was ignoring my phone. I mean, I wasn’t trying to ignore
you
, just Brody and I… well, we sort of had a fight…”

“Surprise, surprise,” she chirped sarcastically.

I put a hand to my temples; my head was suddenly pounding with all the anger she’d brought along with her. “Listen, Becky, I know we didn’t exactly leave things on the best terms—”

“Queen of the understatement.”

“But I’ve had some time to think about it, and I mean, you were right. I was awful and I am so—”

“Oh, give me a break! You shouldn’t have to
think
about this, Shan! You should have known without question that it was a horrible thing to do to a friend. If you
had
thought about it, you would have bought a plane ticket and flown to Cancun to beg for my forgiveness on your hands and knees!”

“Cancun? I thought you—”

“Don’t change the subject, I’m too mad to tell you honeymoon stories right now!” she snapped.

I was about to reply when I saw a blue blur out of the corner of my eye. Mom was dressed in a soft, baby blue sweater set and wearing her pearls, her brow furrowed with concern as she made her way toward us.

“Becky, dear! How good of you to stop by!”

Becky swapped her angry glare for a look of contrition as she allowed herself to be hugged and kissed by my mom. “Hey, Mrs. D.”

“Look at you, you beautiful girl.”

I winced, praying she’d snapped out of the funk she’d been in earlier. My thinking was too muddled just now to do damage control. I just needed her to act normal, at least until I could get Becky out of the house. That was what I needed.
Please, Mom
, I prayed.
Please
.

“Now, Shana here tells me you’re about to get married.”

Crap. I officially wanted to sink into the floor as Becky looked my way, her gaze shrouded in confusion.

“I got married over a week ago, Mrs. D. You were at my wedding.”

“Was I?” Mom asked, tilting her head to the side. “Are you sure, dear? Maybe you only
dreamed
you—”

“Mom, why don’t you go watch some TV and I’ll bring you some lunch? I think we’ve got some chicken salad, your favorite.”

She turned to me, her eyes bright like any child who’s been distracted with a treat. “That sounds lovely, dear.” She smiled once more at Becky before shuffling out of the room, the conversation forgotten.

At least I was prepared for the wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock on Becky’s face. I’d seen it coming the moment Mom had opened her mouth. “What…”

I bit down on my lip, hard, waiting for the anger. It might be slow to come, but once it did, it would become a tidal wave of furious she’d use to drown me.

“Shana, your mom…”

“I know,” I muttered guiltily, feeling the familiar crush of shame.

“But she… what…” She looked at me helplessly, her eyes begging for me to explain.

“I wanted to tell you,” I said, lamely. “I just… Mom’s been… unwell.”

“Unwell,” she echoed. “In what way?”

“She forgets things sometimes… a lot of times, actually.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Come on, Becky, I called and told you about the diagnosis years ago.”

“I mean, I know you did, but when we talked you never, ever… or your brother. You two have just been, what? Keeping it a secret? Is that why your mom hardly goes out anymore? You just keep her locked up here unless there’s something she would be missed at?”

“Becky!” I gasped. “Of course not! What—”

“And what about my wedding? She was fine.” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.