Breaking Away (37 page)

It had been three years since she’d felt the desire to have a physical relationship with a man. What if she couldn’t sustain those feelings if they attempted to make love? It wasn’t fair to keep sending out signals to him if she couldn’t follow through.

She slipped into the bedroom, where she could still hear Joy playing, pulled a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the dresser, and changed clothes. She studied herself in the dresser mirror. This wasn’t exactly a come and get it signal.

Every time Tim touched her, he did it carefully, warning her what he was going to do before he did it. In short, he understood a man’s arm around her throat could trigger her PTSD. She’d had a few minutes of anxiety the night before, but she’d overcome them because she hadn’t felt threatened. But tonight might be different. Every night they practiced could be the night she lost it. If she dwelled on it, she’d lose her nerve for sure.

What would Tim think if she called this off? Would he think her a coward? She didn’t want to disappoint him.

But most of all she didn’t want Will Cross to rule her life anymore. This was the fifth step toward taking back everything he’d stolen from her. The first had been when she’d walked away. The second when she’d had Will arrested—not once, but twice—and the police had actually backed her up. The third step, she’d filed for divorce and gotten it. The forth step, she’d signed up for a college class and gotten a job. And now the fifth would be learning to protect herself.

Once she’d accomplished this one…what would be the sixth? She couldn’t think about that yet. She had to finish the fifth step first. One step at a time.

“Joy? Time to get out of the tub, honey,” she called out as she left the bedroom and went down the hall. Barbie perched on the edge of the tub along with Mermaid.

She took two steps into the room. Joy lay face up beneath the surface of the water. Sam’s heart stopped then her pulse surged up into her throat.

“Joy!” She fell to her knees and reached for her. Joy sat up and blew against the drops of water running down her face and splattered her.

“Dear God.” Sam braced a hand on the tub and held the other one against her heart, its painful beat drumming in her ears.

“I held my breath, Mommy. Grandma El taught me.”

Weak with relief, she collapsed to the rug in front of the tub and dragged in breath after breath. After a few moments, she managed, “That’s good, baby.” Though her muscles shook like Jell-O, she dragged a towel off the bar and held it up. “Come on out, Joy, and dry off. You can watch a little television while you go to sleep.”

“Can we look at the pictures instead?” Joy asked as she wiggled like a seal over the edge of the tub, bringing Barbie and Mermaid with her. With easy practice, Sam grabbed her water-slick body to keep her from tumbling onto the floor and set her on her feet. She wrapped the towel around Joy and began to dry her off. Sam held her close for a moment, until her muscles stopped jerking with reaction from the fright.

“Yeah, we can look at the pictures.” She swallowed against the dryness of her throat. “It’s good Grandma El taught you to hold your breath under water, but when you want to practice again, why don’t you call for Mommy so I can watch while you do it, okay?”

“’Kay.” Her wet hair dripped onto Sam’s shirt as Joy cuddled against her. “I miss Grandma El.”

Tears clouded Sam’s eyes and she held her close. “I do too, baby.” Survival mode had left little time for either of them to grieve for the woman who had saved them and loved them so well.

She rubbed the towel over Joy’s hair, drying it. It stood up in fine white-blonde tufts like cotton candy. “It’s time to get your jammers on. Then we’ll look at the book.”

“‘Kay.” Joy ran naked from the bathroom down the hall to her room.

Sam shook her head. One more thing to work on, bringing her clothes to the bathroom before she got into the tub. She got to her feet and cleaned up the splattered water, rinsed out the tub, and dried Barbie and Mermaid. By the time she’d finished, Joy stood in the hall in her pajamas with the photo album.

Sam guided her into her bedroom and held the book for her while she climbed up on the bed. Sam combed the tangles from her hair, laid the comb on the nightstand, and piled the pillows against the headboard. Getting into bed with Joy, she cuddled her close against her side and they opened the book.

The pictures were a comfort and a torment. One minute, when loneliness wrapped around her like a straitjacket, she wanted to weep for what they had lost, and the next minute laugh at the funny and tender memories.

Joy had a never-ending supply of questions about the people in the photos, though she’d heard it all before. Twenty minutes later she nodded off and Sam closed the album, eased out from under Joy’s weight, repositioned her daughter’s head on one of the pillows, and pulled the covers up over her shoulder.

Sam stood by the bed for a moment, watching her sleep. She saw changes in her every day. Her chubby baby cheeks had taken on the slimmer curve of childhood, her stubby legs had grown longer, and Sam saw more and more of herself mirrored in Joy every day. She needed to take some pictures to add to the album. Darn it, there was always more and more to do, and only Sam to do it.

She turned out the light and left the room. She had to finish an essay before Tim came over. She settled her computer at the kitchen table and attempted to focus on the assignment. When the phone rang, she rubbed her eyes, glad for the interruption.

“Hey, I’m on my way over.”

Just the sound of his voice set off jittery, sensual-exciting feelings low in her belly. Like she was already primed for something to happen. She wanted him. Just thinking it made it hard for her to catch her breath.

“All right. I’ll be waiting.” Everything she was feeling was projected in the tone of her voice. Heat raced into her cheeks and she bit her lip as she hung up. Had she sounded as provocative to him as it sounded to her?

She had never known how to flirt or be seductive. She’d spent too much time trying not to draw Will’s attention.

She had no time to worry about it further because the soft knock at the door alerted her to his arrival. She glanced out the window, saw it was him, and twisted the dead bolt free.

He brought with him the smell of night air tinged with the desert honeysuckle that bloomed alongside the porch, and him. A clean male scent totally his own. His blue eyes searched her face before he shut the door behind him. He stepped close. Her breath hitched and her heart raced. She wanted to feel the texture of his beard beneath her hands, the texture of his skin. Her mouth grew dry with need and she swallowed. When he bent his head, her arms twined around his neck and her lips parted to drink in the touch and taste of his kiss.

Tim’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. His tongue tasted the parting of her lips, seeking and finding hers with a hunger that melted away her uncertainty. The kiss went on and on. She pressed herself as close as she could get, and at the feel of his arousal, rose on tiptoe to align her hips to his. She lost herself in the sweet fierceness of his embrace until, breathless, she broke the kiss and turned her face into his shoulder. Had she ever felt this way before? As though every bone and muscle might dissolve with need?

Tim drew in a ragged breath, and his hand ran in restless circles up and down her back, molding her closer.

She drew back and looked up at him, then cupped his face and ran her fingers over his jaw. His beard lay in dark bristles against his skin, wiry but smooth, outlining the lips that had just left hers. He kissed her again, his tenderness and care overwhelming her.

“We’ll take it slow,” he said as his lips brushed her cheek, her jaw, and the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “I’m not in any rush.”

“You’re such a gift to me,” she murmured. “Every day you give me more and I want—I don’t know how much I can give you back.”

“This is more than enough, Sam.”

His tone brought tears to her eyes. She ran her hand down the back of his head, smoothing his hair and holding him close. “How can it be, Tim?”

He drew back to look down at her. “I’ve been wandering, rootless for months, putting one foot in front of the other, just surviving. When I look at you…” He shook his head and his throat worked as he swallowed. “When you opened your arms to me just now, I finally felt like I’d found my way home.”

How had she missed seeing his loneliness? Tears rolled down her face in a rush.

“I know you’re not ready for anything heavy. But I need to—I’ll be satisfied living on the periphery of what you have, until we figure out if this is right.”

Her heart ached. He felt he couldn’t expect more because she had allowed fear to build a wall between her and the rest of the world. How could she continue to allow herself to be that way with him? She tugged him toward the couch and he followed. When he sat down, she slid into his lap, drew his lips to hers, and tasted the saltiness of tears. She drew back to wipe her face with the hem of her t-shirt.

“Don’t cry, Sam.”

“I’m not…anymore.” She nestled close to him and laid her head atop his shoulder. He continued to run his hands up and down her back, the pressure both soothing and sensual. Her breath hitched, then grew unsteady. She wanted more.

She traced the shape of his jaw with her fingertips. “Can we just touch one another for a while?” she asked.

Tim’s laugh sounded choked. “Honey, we can do whatever you want.” He wasted no time sliding his hands beneath her shirt and continuing his slow caresses up her spine and cross the flat plane of her shoulder blades.

Sam waited for the feelings of panic to start, and when they didn’t, leaned back to smile at him. She removed his glasses and folded them closed. “Can you see me without these?”

“I can see you just fine.”

His husky tone, as much as his touch, loosened the small knot of anxiety that lay coiled and ready to spring.

She set the glasses on the back of the couch. His eyes, so pale a blue, seemed more vibrant in color without the barrier of the glasses. She traced his brows, then his cheekbones, learning the structure of his face. When she cupped his jaw, and kissed him again, he groaned his encouragement. The eager way his lips and tongue responded to hers triggered a sweet tingle between her legs. She loved the way his beard felt against her face.

His hands continued to move under her t-shirt, sliding down her sides and up over her ribs. His fingers released the catch on her bra and he cupped her breast. She leaned into his touch with a feeling of relief, the nipple beading beneath the careful pressure of his fingers and intensifying the tingle to an empty ache that begged to be filled.

When Tim withdrew his hands from beneath her shirt a few minutes later, she caught back a murmur of protest. His arms tightened around her holding her close. The ragged, uneven sound of his breathing mirrored her own. She held him in return and messaged the back of his neck, finding his skin hot to the touch. He drew back to look up at her, his cheeks still flushed, and smiled. “I thought we’d better save some things for another time.”

She’d been so lost in her own response, she hadn’t thought how difficult he might find it to temper his own. On the one hand it was wonderful she hadn’t felt a moment of fear or anxiety—a miracle, in fact. But on the other, he had to control his every move to make sure she didn’t.

“Okay.”

A wave of color lit his cheeks, and she smiled.

She knew what her sixth step was going to be. And it definitely included Tim Carnes.

CHAPTER 28

J
ames concentrated on the traffic in front of him, only glancing toward Marsha for brief seconds at a time. “It isn’t going to kill you to get out of the house for a couple of hours and relax. Jane Wyatt, the woman I hired to sit, was recommended by Trish Marks. She babysits with almost all the other team members’ children. Alex is in good hands, and I’ll be on call while you’re away from him.”

“I just look such a mess. Why didn’t you tell me this morning we were going somewhere?”

“You look fine.” She didn’t. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and beneath her eyes dark circles penetrated the light makeup she’d put on.