Griff was laying out the sleeping bags by the hearth, and when he finished he walked over to open the window a crack.
“It’s pretty hard to take,” she told him, not moving from the door.
“What is?”
“All this happiness.”
His head whipped around. The strangest tightness filled his chest as he looked at her. “Come over here,” he said gruffly.
A glow seemed to suffuse her skin-a purely feminine glow. Her lashes fluttered as she glanced away from him; she could tempt a saint when she did that. Griff had never had one urge to be a saint. But before he could stride over to her, that lovely smile had been replaced by another worried frown.
“Griff, we really should do Tiger’s room first. He’s coming next weekend and…” She hesitated, then added firmly, “Listen, I know I keep talking and planning, but I don’t want you to think I’m unrealistic. Of course we can’t afford to do it all at once. But the kids’ rooms-”
“Susan.” In four long strides, Griff reached her and pulled first one of her arms and then the other around his neck. “You start the most ridiculous arguments,” he murmured.
The kiss began in the center of her forehead, and gradually took in her eyes, her nose, the slanted, delicate bones of her cheeks. Griff cradled her head in his hands just so, his thumbs free to caress the firm line of her jaw. Damn, but the man made her feel like melted caramel.
“I wasn’t arguing,” Susan remembered vaguely, relieved to find she was still following the thread of conversation when his hands slipped down to the bottom of her sweater.
“You’re worrying about the kids again. I want you to stop it.” His fingers chased the pink sweater up and over her head. “You know I want them with us. You know I want to raise them because I love them, Susan, and because I want to give them what I feel they need…and more. But you, wife, are for the rest of my life, mate and lover. That’s how I want to live with you. That’s what I feel for you.”
Griff’s tenor voice could turn gravelly…at certain times. Susan flushed as his eyes gave out dark fires, running over her bare shoulders and firm breasts. She shivered suddenly, but he didn’t smile; that kind of lightness suddenly didn’t belong. He wanted her, in a possessive, purely male way; he needed to hold her, take her, protect her…reassure her. Trust me, his eyes demanded.
She did. Her fingers trailed up his chest to the first button on his shirt. Then the second. Longish blond hairs, silvery in the night shadows, sprang free under her fingertips. She could feel his heart beating strong and sure beneath her palm.
“And this business of expenses.” Just slightly, his voice lost that certain seriousness, taking on a note of wry exasperation. “I’ve been trying to tell you for some time that I’m not a poor man, Susan. I lived in that small apartment only because I didn’t have the time or the desire to take care of a bigger place-and I didn’t have the kids with me. I’m not saying that alimony and child support won’t limit the number of world cruises we can take every year, but we have no money problems. You can have your Oriental carpets, and you can buy the antiques you like, and you can keep your own money for your business, and you can do any room any damn way you want to. We’ve covered this before.”
“Hmm.”
“Susan.” Her eyes traveled up to his. “Don’t ‘hmm.’ Not on this. I want you to have this house exactly the way you want it.”
Too many married people argued about money. Susan was determined to avoid that pitfall. Having known Griff for three of the most exhilarating months she’d ever lived through, she was well aware that he was dreadfully overgenerous, particularly where she was concerned. By contrast, Susan hadn’t bought a pair of shoes for the past nine years unless they were on sale. Obviously, compromise was occasionally going to be required in their relationship, as it was in any marriage.
And it definitely felt like her night to give in. She finished unbuttoning his shirt, raised her eyes to his in the darkness, and whispered, “Just love me, Griff. Now.”
Later, as she lay still in the darkness, Susan’s eyes fluttered open. Moonlight filtering through the windows formed yellow-silver squares on the floor, but did not touch either of them in their sleeping-bag cocoon. Griff’s leg was thrown over her thigh to keep her close to his warmth; his arm was still heavy on her side, and his hand still cupped her breast exactly as they’d been after they’d made love. The newlyweds lay in shadow, the room, and indeed the whole house, completely still. Susan listened to Griff’s gentle breathing and closed her eyes again.
That first June night when she’d met him flooded her mind…
Chapter 2
Bartholomew’s was one of St. Paul’s best restaurants. When she walked in, Susan was wearing a mauve raincoat, a pale green dress and her most brittle smile. It was ten minutes to eight on a hazy June night, a lazy sun just getting around to sinking below the horizon. And Susan was furious.
And nervous. It was all so ridiculous… Julie Anderson had a wine and cheese shop down the way from Susan’s craft and book store. Julie’s venture was new and not doing particularly well; Susan had offered moral support, and had somehow ended up browbeaten into accepting a blind date with Julie’s older brother. Susan had last gone on a blind date when she was sixteen; the five-mile walk home had squelched any desire to repeat the experience. At twenty-eight, she couldn’t have been less interested in wasting an evening, and she certainly should have had more sense than to get talked into having a drink with some strange man…
Beyond the entrance, she caught a glimpse of several rooms-three or four different dining areas and two bars. The entrance foyer held two couches, a fireplace and wildlife prints, all rather subdued and peaceful. Unclenching her fists and removing them from the pockets of her raincoat, Susan settled in to wait, and was immediately approached by an efficient waitress. Wine coolers were on special.
Fine. Her throat was as dry as the Sahara.
The only reason she was here at all was that she figured Griff Anderson could hardly be a total nerd. He’d had the sense to call and cancel on the two previous occasions his sister had so cleverly set up. Which matched the two Susan had wiggled out of. He was obviously about as interested in blind dates as she was, but Gibraltar could be worn down more easily then the indomitable force that was Julie. So they’d make the gesture-one ten-minute drink together and the die-hard matchmaker would really have to let up, Susan figured. Certainly, as two mature people they could get out of having dinner together without undue awkwardness. So how bad could ten minutes be?
Setting down her empty wineglass, she glanced at her watch with a little frown. It was eight-fifteen. The room seemed increasingly warm, and she shrugged out of her raincoat. Beneath was the pale green dress she’d worn to work that day, a soft knit that clung lovingly to her slender figure. Why hadn’t she remembered that Julie, the enthusiastic matchmaker, was a veteran field-player herself? “You think I wouldn’t get married in a second if the right man came along?” Julie had insisted. “At least I’ve got the sense to keep looking. You two aren’t even trying, and I just have the feeling that if you meet each other…”
Lord, what hogwash.
“Would you like another drink?” The hostess hovered, smiling pleasantly.