Hurts So Good (24 page)

Neil, willing to give up one of his fondest vices? He
was
desperate. As desperate as she. A few minutes of her listening time could add years to his life. And—sweet heaven, could it be?—years to a lifetime together.

"I'm listening."

"Okay, here goes. It's not a standard contract. I didn't want any up-front money or royalties. Instead, I get a share of his company—in your name and mine. Plus, I get complete artistic control. Cover art included."

"That's wonderful, Neil, that's—I can't believe this."

"Believe it. Guess whose picture'll be on the cover?"

"Yours?"

"Guess again. The album's entitled
Andrea.
You did inspire every note. Only problem is, you inspired me so much, I've got enough compositions for three releases. My professional judgment tells me they'll do real well. It is my best work. Could be I'll have to do some promotion, travel a bit. If I've managed to convince you not to leave me, could I maybe talk you into keeping me company if I have to go on the road from time to time? Save your money, and let me buy you a portable computer to cover the action. 'Fraid it won't be the juiciest copy. Not since I'm cleaning up my act."

"No—no public scenes?"

"The one in front of the club was my last. Adults do prefer to settle disputes in private."

"What about your flask?"

"Trashed. Gone for good. My days of drinking alone or to excess are hereby over. I vow it on my mother's grave. The only exception I'll make is if you're ever in the mood to trade body shots—alone. But even then not to excess." His hand glided over her leg and massaged the interior of her thigh, which quivered in a quick response.
"Especially
not then. I don't want to be numb. Not now and never again. What you make me feel, what we've got, it's too special."

"But, Neil," she said shakily, "there can't be any body shots tonight."

"What are you saying, that you want some time to think all this over? That you won't put this on?" He pulled the ring off his pinky and held it over her finger where it had belonged from the beginning, where it was meant to be forever.

"What I'm saying is... how do you feel about body shots with seltzer water?"

"Seltzer water never tasted better, just so the body I'm kissin' is yours. Even if it does feel awful skinny. I did this to you,
chere,
turned you into a bunch of skin and bones. Forgive me. Please forgive me, 'cause I can't forgive myself."

She released the buttons running the length of his shirt and pressed a lingering kiss to his chest.

"Make you a deal, Slick. But you must obey the rules."

"Lay 'em out and I'll abide by them till death do us part."

"In that case... First, I need to hear you say that you love me."

"Hell yes. I love you. I love you more than my music, more than any of my dumb rules or even dumber vices, Andrea. You're the only woman I've ever loved, and I swear I'll never love another."

"Very good," she murmured, and wiggled her ring finger. "Second, I would like you to propose. No 'kind of' proposal and no head games."

Neil's steady gaze held hers as he said somberly, "Andrea, will you marry me, for better or worse, especially if I promise to be the best damn husband you could ever have?"

"I will."

"Then
may
I place this ring on your finger?"

"Yes, Neil, you may."

She watched as the diamond heart slid down the tapered length, and she felt the warm, smooth circle of gold come to rest in a secure fit. Neil bowed his head and sealed the binding vow with a kiss.

Andrea urged his head lower until she pressed it to her abdomen. "Third," she said a little breathlessly, scarcely able to contain her joy, "how do you feel about factoring and multiplying two halves that make each other whole? That's probably not a logical math theory, but we do have a new equation. You know, one plus one makes three?"

Neil stilled, and then he was suddenly pressing her down deep into the mattress, his face eager and hopeful and anxious and hovering over hers.

"
Chere
, you're not telling me that—"

"Four was always my lucky number too, Neil. So maybe there's a chance we'll have twins. I'd like to seal the deal with a kiss to make up for the ones we've lost."

He possessively caressed her belly while he claimed her mouth in a searing reunion. A hungry kiss, a mad mating of lips, full of passion and fire.

"Make love with me,
chere.
I want to make love like we've never made it before," he whispered fiercely as his hands roved over her. "This won't do. It won't do at all. After we tear up the sheets, you're gettin' some rest while I make the best jambalaya you ever ate. I'm fattening you up."

"I'd really like that. But I won't cooperate unless you share my bowl." She stroked the shadowed hollows of his cheeks, and her voice choked. "You look like hell."

"I've never felt so close to heaven. What-say we top the night off with
beignets
, then meet Lou and Liza at the airport? We'll take the first nonstop flight to Vegas, then head for a honeymoon in New England before you come to your senses. Are you game?"

"On one condition."

"Name it, Mrs. Grey. A dime a dance or a quarter a song, it's yours, and I'm gladly payin'. Hmmm. Great titles. 'Dime a Dance,' 'Quarter a Song.' 'It's Yours, and I'm Gladly Paying.' You mind if I compose some on our honeymoon? Seems Simon's makin' a curtain call."

"Tell Simon that you're busy and you'll catch him later."

"Done. So what's the condition?"

"Before you fatten me up and hustle us all to the airport, I'd like to watch
Father Knows Best."

"Hush," he growled against her belly. "We've got plenty of time to make our own home movies that'll outshine any old reruns, 'cause they'll be ours and they'll be real. Trust me,
chere.
Just like I should've always trusted you, and from here on I will, no question. I might be a slow learner, but the lessons I learn do stick."

As he kissed his way down, she sifted her fingers through his hair and sighed happily. "It would seem that tonight Father
does
know best."

The End

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BETWEEN THE SHEETS

Excerpt from

Between the Sheets

by

Mallory Rush

Bestselling, Award-winning Author

Shoving back her chair so fast it nearly overturned, Claire jumped up and Graham grabbed hold of her arms.
Szzz.
Was that a branding iron or his palms on her skin? Desperately trying to break the hold he had on her senses, not to mention the thrill transmitted to her arms, Claire exclaimed, "Mr. LeFarge!"

"Graham," he smoothly corrected.

"All right, Graham. Why did you do that?"

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Try to kiss me, that's what."

"I didn't try to kiss you. Believe me, you'd know it if I did," he said with a confidence that assured her any attempted kiss from Graham LeFarge would be too good to resist.

Claire made fast tracks toward her desk. "Perhaps you don't understand my position. I am here to listen, advise, and raise questions you need to answer yourself. As a therapist, my personal life has no place in this room. Which—which brings me to the point that you're privy to personal aspects of my life, and that conflicts with—" She took a deep breath. "Given the situation, I'm going to refer you to a colleague and end the session here."

While she waited for the expected agreement, Graham swiftly debated his options.

He couldn't agree to her suggestion any more than he could reveal his secret identity after this gut-yanking session. Deciding to educate Claire about what made him tick, he firmly stated, "I don't want one of your colleagues. I want you."

"That's not a good idea. I've explained why."

"Then let me explain something, Dr. O'Hara," he said, advancing with a slow, measured pace that had Claire looking as skittish as a rabbit dodging a hoe. "You are the best and if you refuse to see me, it's only because your social life is more important to you than my mental health."