Love For Sale (27 page)

This weekend, she should drive to Dallas and let Mom know the awful truth. Over the phone wasn’t the way to tell your mother about a death sentence. That ordeal she’d delay as long as possible. First, she had to get a grip on her emotions and wrap her mind around the fact that she was dying. She and her brother had never been close. He could be told by phone. Images of Christian sparkled in the sunlight shafting the windshield. Facing what might be a wasting death, she was glad he wouldn’t have to endure her last days.

“I don’t even have a Will.” A pain shot through her heart.

Tears stung her eyes, misting her vision. She drove the familiar streets blindly from memory, arriving at home with red, puffy eyes. The weeping stopped as suddenly as it had started. She climbed from the car and, in a numb haze, wandered the cobbled path. As much as she dreaded the conversations with her mother and brother, she needed someone to talk to now.

In her apartment, closeted safely alone, she dialed Paul’s work number. He answered on the third ring.

“Well, March, this is a surprise.” Their last meeting had ended on a final note.

Paul sounded like he was glad to hear from her but cautious. There was something different in his voice she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She glanced at the window and the dark day beyond. “I went to the doctor today. They ran some tests.”

Genuine concern shaded his tone. “And?”

“I don’t…have the results.” She didn’t have courage to say the fatal words yet.

“Are you telling me the truth? You sound upset.” He’d never known how to comfort, yet now he actually sounded reassuring—a new inflection to his voice or something. Had he learned this new talent from his android?

“Yes. I wanted to talk to someone for a minute. How’s Georgia?”

“She’s fine.” He brightened. “Better than fine, in fact.”

If only I were an android…

“That’s great. I’d like to come to dinner one night and get to know her better.” A little panic seized her. Why had she invited herself? She didn’t have the energy or courage to walk down the stairs.

A chair creaked, and she imagined him leaning back, twirling a pen. “How about tonight?”

March swallowed hard, her throat closing again. “Not tonight. Soon. I’d better let you get back to work. Take care.” She replaced the receiver before he said goodbye.

Seconds later, the phone rang. She considered not answering. The news had winded her, and she was too weak and depressed to talk any more. March stared at the phone as if it were a foreign object. Why refuse to answer and make her final days lonelier and sadder? Trembling fingers seized the handset, expecting a call from work. The time had come to resign.

“Hello. This is March.”

“Darling, this is Christian. They didn’t destroy me. I’m here.”

His voice! Somehow, thank God, he was alive! Her heart leapt from sorrow to joy. Her hands shook in earnest now, the tremor carrying through into her voice.

“Christian,” she said reverently. “Where are you?”

He whispered a laugh. “At the foot of the stairs.”

March lurched to her feet, the phone dropping from her hand. Heart pounding, tears streaming, she raced across the room, her outstretched hands colliding with the door. The dusty glass framed the man she loved more than life. The sound of her pulse was deafening. She flung the panel back in its tracks and collapsed.

****

Christian caught March’s limp body. What he’d feared had happened. She’d fainted. The shock of seeing him alive and on her balcony had been too much for her. If only they’d connected the other frantic times he rang, her distress would have been minimized. As he swung her into his arms, her eyes opened. The love in their depths echoed along every wire and circuit in his body. God, he’d missed her. What had she gone through while Mayfair played God?

“Put me down.” She stroked his cheek, then buried her face in his hair. “I want to hold you, to feel your body against mine. I need you to kiss me.”

Hands at her waist, he allowed her to glide down the front of him. “Do you feel faint?”

She locked her arms around his neck, applying her body to his length. “I didn’t faint. Joy swept me off my feet.”

“I’m so happy
I
could faint.” He sank his hands into her hair and held her in a deep, hungry kiss, the pent-up longing manifesting despite his effort to control desire.

She moved into him, her tongue caressing his in a feverish battle. They clung to each other, desperate to regain lost time. He was starved for her, but he needed to pull her onto his lap, talk and listen for hours. So much had occurred, so many questions to be answered, chief amongst them her health. Gently, he broke the kiss, holding her away from him to look at her. She was pale, thinner than when he’d been taken.

He frowned, gazing deep into her eyes. “You’ve lost weight.” Swinging her into a bridal embrace, he carried her to the sofa and settled her on his lap, supporting her back with his arm. “Tell me everything, but first tell me how your treatment is going.”

“Treatment is going fine.” She wriggled on his lap, grinning, but a shadow crossed her face. “They’ve extended it a little.”

Anxiety tingled beneath his skin. “What are you not telling me?” He stroked her back in long, soothing caresses. “I’m yours. You’re mine. We share everything.”

Her lips trembled, and she looked away, seeming to find the treetops absorbing. “These are happy tears, okay? I’m so glad to see you I’ve started crying again. I’ll never let you out of my sight…as long as I live.”

He sensed a slight hesitation before
as long as I live
, and icy fear gripped his heart. “Has something gone wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing! You’re back in my life.” She flung her arms into the air. “Everything is right.”

Christian wasn’t satisfied with her answers. At every juncture, she evaded the truth, but it was obvious, at the moment, she refused to be serious. Worry darkened the elation of their reunion. Why would March hide something from him? He hugged her against his chest, dotting his lips to the top of her head.

“Let’s don’t talk. Let’s just be.” She slipped her arm around his neck, her lips hovering over his mouth, her breath warm and minty scented.

“May we
just be
another time?” He kissed her free hand, gazing at her through his lashes. “Even later tonight. Most importantly, I must know how you are. Then, what you’ve suffered.”

“What happened to you?” Her voice caught. “I was told you’d been destroyed.”

He tossed her a wicked grin and winked. “I asked first.”

“Not much to tell.” She shrugged. “More chemo, more needles. I missed you there with me and occupied my time hating Mayfair.”

“I spent my time hating Mayfair, too.” His short laugh tasted bitter. “I wanted to be with you. I knew you needed me, and Fridays at ten, I couldn’t sit still.”

She brushed a kiss to his mouth. “I know you would have been if you could. Damn them. If companies have karma, theirs is going to really suck.”

“I thought they were going to use radiation as insurance.” He frowned. “Why the change in plans?”

“There’s a break between chemo and radiation.” She wriggled free, grabbed the remote and switched on the classical music station, then bounced back onto his lap. “I’m fine. Tell me what they did to you, so I can hate them even more.”

He studied her, suspecting she’d omitted a key fact. “You’re not telling me everything.”

She swung her hips back and forth. He’d gladly walk into the fire she was trying to ignite, but not when secrets hung between them. No doubt, she was making an effort to divert him from a subject she refused to discuss, and he was feeling the effects of her lap dance. He tilted his pelvis, letting her feel his body’s reaction to her teasing. She moaned, bent to kiss him.

He sat back, avoiding the seductive touch of her mouth. “March, please. We were to be married. I deserve to be included in plans for your health care.”

Grasping his head between her hands, she touched her lips to the tip of his nose. “I don’t have a doctor’s appointment for awhile.” Her gaze fled to the front doors. “At that time, we’ll consider the continued plan for my treatment.”

He turned his head to see what had captured her attention. Beyond the balcony, the massive trees swayed in the humid wind, warning of a gathering storm. Nothing to attract special notice. People looked away when they lied. Why would she avoid the truth? Was her illness more serious than first diagnosed? If so, why not tell him? Did she think she must protect him?
For better or worse…
Matters had spiraled out of control before he had the opportunity to utter that vow, but he was prepared to live by it.

Yet what choice had he but to accept her wishes.

March ruffled his hair, her expression anything but playful. “Tell me what those bastards did to you.”

He shrugged. “Like yours, my abbreviated version is, I was placed under lock and key in solitary confinement. I thought of you. I thought of you, and I thought of you.”

“How are you here with me? Did you escape?” She clasped his face between her hands. “Or did they set you free after satisfying Paul’s demands?”

Satisfying Paul’s demands.
Like a portent, those three words echoed throughout Christian’s consciousness. Paul Morgan was a bionic, one of Mayfair’s successful experiments. Suddenly, Christian was glad they hadn’t destroyed the laboratories. If March were seriously ill… Perhaps, he could persuade Mayfair to mind transfer her into an immortal body. Of course, his life would be forfeit to Aguillard, but he’d make that sacrifice, willingly. In her current emotional state, it was best not to mention the possibility. Would the megalomaniacs listen to a fugitive? They needed more willing participants in their
clinical
trials. Why couldn’t Aguillard create another of the Christian line for himself? Christian could live with a twin across the Atlantic.

“Hello, is there anybody there?” March tapped his temple.

He chuckled. “Sorry, I was reliving our escape. Three of us. Daniel, Trevor and a new Monica bid Mayfair adieu in the middle of the night. We only encountered one security guard in the alley, and Trevor choked him unconscious. Don’t worry, he will recover.”

She gripped his shoulders, a look of sheer terror on her face. “They’ll come again. They’ll take you from me.”

Nodding, he stroked her hair. “We might not have long.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. Determination set her jaw. “Oh, God, no. I can’t bear being separated from you again. I’ll buy a gun and kill anyone or anything daring to try.”

“Shush, love.” He hugged her close. “With luck, perhaps, they won’t search for me here.”
I can’t fight your disease with a gun.

She buried her head in the crook of his neck. He continued his story with the journey home until he felt her relax against him. Her breathing became rhythmical, even. His ladylove had fallen asleep in his arms. A deep concern smothered his smile. Again, anxiety needled his skin. Why would she fall asleep at midday?
Because she was sicker than she pretended?
Without jostling her, he eased to his feet. She slept soundly, her lips parted sweetly.

If only he could obtain access to her medical records, he’d discover why she was rail thin, but her flat stomach now rounded between her hip bones. What did the deathly pallor signify? Like a father tiptoeing with a child, he slipped from living to bedroom, threw back the covers and arranged her on the pristine white sheets.

He ran his hand over the soft Egyptian cotton. “I remember how these sheets felt against my body and how you felt wrapped around me. I believe you’re hiding something. I don’t understand why you won’t confide in me. May Fate be merciful to us. I suspect we haven’t long to wait for retribution.”

Drifting into bed beside her, he spooned her into a close embrace. A third, invisible presence lay between them—danger.

For the hour March slept, Christian remained awake and very aware of the woman in his arms. His thoughts were a relentless circle. Possibilities chased problems through his mind. March must be freed from cancer’s looming shadow. One thought gave him scant hope.

Besides the love they shared, being her husband would give him more access to her health care. When Mayfair found her prodigal son, the fact that they were married might possibly rescue him from their vengeance. Now, more than ever, the company dared not expose their Special Editions Program. If her husband went missing, March could file a report with the police. An investigation stood to uncover Mayfair’s secrets.

She stirred, whispered a laugh and wriggled around to face him. “Some reunion, huh? I fall asleep on you.” Her lips skimmed over his mouth. “I’ll make it up to you right now.”

“You look ill. I don’t wish to hinder your recovery in any way.”

“Making love to me isn’t going to hinder my recovery.” She smoothed her hand over his stomach. “Quite the contrary.”

She flipped onto her back, into position, one knee arched, inviting him to satisfy her. Her hair spread on the pillow, her nipples visible through her thin shirt. He longed to caress and kiss every inch of her body, but she was pulling him over on top of her. Savoring her sighs, he unbuttoned her blouse, fondling and kissing her breasts. She swept her fingers through his hair and gasped in rhythm as he stroked her depths. Watching her pleasure, he made love to his beautiful, beloved March in long, slow thrusts. He knew nothing of sin, but he loved her so much it must be one. She released on a shudder, exhaling a soft blissful cry. Satisfaction ripped through him, and he collapsed in her arms.

“That was quick,” he whispered against her ear. “I guess we both needed it.”

They stayed connected, his body resting lightly on top of hers.
We are connected, mind and body.
He was so damned glad to be home. Yet fear overshadowed his joy. She undulated beneath him, her arms tightening around his neck. His shaft swelled in the caress of her body. Her mouth closed over his in a demanding, devouring kiss.

She breathed a sexy laugh against his neck, giving him a delicious shiver of anticipation. “Are you up for it?”