Pandora's Box (previously Worth the Wait, a Zebra print best seller) (19 page)

“Probably not. But I’ll give it a shot.”

He rested his palm along the side of her face and gave her a soft good-night kiss. She was asleep in minutes, which was lucky, since he wasn’t.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Charlie lathered the soap and vigorously scrubbed her body. A thick cloud of steam filled the bathroom, making it impossible to see two inches in front of her. She didn’t notice the temperature. Physically, she didn’t feel anything at all.

Why was it, she wondered, that graduation seemed like a thousand years ago, but that day, ten years in the past, could still send a searing pain through her? Wasn’t time supposed to heal—or was it another one of those pointless proverbs?

What happened now? How could she work for Damian? She didn’t even know how to face him. When she awoke, cradled in his arms, for a few delirious moments she felt at peace. She had wanted to believe everything would be normal. The second he began to stir, the fantasy broke and she slid out of the bed.

Delayed Post Traumatic Stress. She’d read all the literature Valerie had given her. Giving it a fancy name and being able to identify it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Despite all the positive changes in her life the past few years, inside she had remained that fifteen year old kid—scared, betrayed, and all alone.

Only, she didn’t have to be alone any longer. The choice was hers.

She could share her life with Damian. He had known about her past all along, and he was still there for her. She cared about him. He made her feel safe.

And then there were those other feelings she had for him that were anything but safe. The basic, primal urges that crept into her daydreams. Only those desires were no longer tempered with fear. In her heart, she knew that making love with Damian would be a life-altering experience.

Wasn’t she finally entitled to some happiness, too? But at what cost? By making Damian choose between a relationship with her or his mother? How could she do that to him after all he had done for her? She slid down to the floor in the shower. Why did everything in her life have to be so damned complicated?

* * * *

Damian stood outside the door, wondering what he should do. He had thought the worst was over last night when she had curled up in his arms. Then, this morning, she had closed herself in the bathroom and still hadn’t come out. He could feel the heat through the door. If this was a test, then he was going to fail.

He knocked on the door. “Charlie?”

She didn’t answer. As he opened the door, a blast of steam came rushing out, covering him with a light mist. If he didn’t get her out of there, she might hurt herself. He removed the terry cloth robe from the back of the door and tossed it over his shoulder.

He tapped on the sliding glass door of the shower. The room felt stifling. He slid the door open and reached in to turn off the tap. A soft cry of protest was the only complaint.

“Come on. You’re going to hurt yourself like that.”

As the water vapors cleared away, he could see her sitting on the floor of the shower, shivering. He put the robe on top of her and turned his back while she slid the plush garment on. She stepped out and stood next to him. Her hair was a mist of curls. He lifted the long mane out of the back of the robe and let it fall around her shoulders. Her face glowed with a healthy clean shine, but her eyes, those huge, midnight eyes were filled with question and doubt.

“Do you want something to eat?” His question sounded inane, even to himself.

She shook her head and mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?”

“Tea,” she said with more clarity.

“Sure. You boil water, right?” he asked. “What can I say? The only thing I know how to do is cook eggs.”

His admission of helplessness in the kitchen brought a tiny smile to her face. “I’ll make it.”

He followed her to the kitchen. She filled the teakettle and put it on the stove. Since he saw nothing particularly interesting in the stainless steel sink she gave her undivided attention to, he guessed that she wasn’t ready to talk to him.

“Do you want me to call Erik and ask him to come by today?”

“No. Not today. I can’t . . .” She sniffed and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

The question threw him. He wasn’t expecting her to want answers yet. He leaned back against the counter and pulled at the lapels of her robe until she rested against him. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You should have told me before you took me to that place.” She lowered her head onto his chest. “I can’t look at you. I feel that you’re judging me.”

He folded his arms around her and buried his fingers in the silky curls of her hair. She nuzzled her face against his neck, ending his effort to make her look at him. “I’m not judging you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was so stupid. I knew better, but I wanted to believe that I finally had a father. And it wouldn’t matter anymore that my own father had deserted me.

“That’s not stupid, Charlie.”

“I was going to show them all. Peter, his aunt, even your mother. I was lovable. I was special. They shouldn’t have just thrown me away.” Tears streamed down her face. She sniffed and tried to settle her ragged breathing.

“You are special.”

She shook her head. “I did everything to please my new family. For the first time since I was placed in the foster care system, I allowed myself to care. Especially for my foster father. I was the perfect daughter. I never talked back. I did as I was told. I looked up to him so much. I trusted him. But he didn’t care about me. He tried to . . .”

“I know,” he said.

She grasped the fabric of his polo shirt tightly in her hands, unaware that she was yanking on it in her frustration. “And then for telling the truth I got sent to a juvenile home so awful it might as well have been a prison.”

He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t seem patronizing. She didn’t want words of sympathy anyway. He just continued to hold her close until the tears stopped and the painful memories subsided.

Once she was in control again, she sheepishly wriggled out of his arms. “Sorry. I got your shirt all wet.”

“Forget it. What would you like to do today?”

“I have to go back down to the center this morning. I filed a complaint yesterday and Valerie was going to have it typed up so I can sign it.”

Damian guarded his expression. He didn’t think it would do much good after all these years, but he was reluctant to voice his opinion. She must need to feel that she was doing something positive.

“It’s not a criminal complaint,” she said, as if reading the doubt he thought he’d hidden from her. “If he ever does anything like that again, his name comes up on a list. Then they contact me to see if I’m willing to testify for the prosecution.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I was ready ten years ago, but no one would listen.”

Damian cupped her shoulders and drew her close. He had to show his support for her decision whether or not he agreed with her. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I need.” She wiped her hand across her nose and inhaled deeply.

“Okay. What would you like to do after that?”

“I have to go back to my apartment”

“Why? We still have three days left of our vacation.”

“I have to do some laundry. My clothing is becoming offensive.”

“Laundry?” Damian sighed. “Those big white machines that spin around . . . ?” He demonstrated with a finger.

* * * *

Charlie laughed outright. He was the only man she’d ever met who could cheer her up when he wasn’t trying. “Damn, you’re pathetic. What do you do with your dirty clothes?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I send them out. But there is a laundry room in the building.”

“How about I teach you how to use it?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s not how I planned to spend my vacation. Can’t you think of something more exciting to do today?”

“I don’t know.” She paused thoughtfully. “Your underwear and mine, rolling around in the same hot dryer. It sounds rather stimulating to me.”

“Is your lingerie making a pass at my jockey shorts?” Damian was surprised by her playful flirting. She was surprised herself.

She needed to prove something to herself . . . and to him. Damian had known about her past from the beginning and he hadn’t left her or thought any less of her. He believed her, regardless of the police reports. No one had ever shown her that kind of unconditional trust. She owed him the same in return.

The comers of her mouth lifted in a seductive smile. “Let’s just say it’s getting ideas. A little fabric softener at the right moment and there’s no telling what might happen.”

“Are you speaking metaphorically?”

His expression was so serious that Charlie wondered if he took everything literally. “Goodness, I hope so. I’d hate to think that my underwear was going to get luckier than me.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“I think I might rise to the occasion. What about you?”

That knocked his stuffy reserve for a loop. He actually blushed.

She locked her arms around his neck and gently urged him closer. “Did I shock you, Damian?”

“No,” he choked out. He cleared his throat and his speech returned to normal. “No. You caught me off guard. I didn’t think ... I didn’t expect . ."

“You didn’t think I knew how to talk dirty?” she finished for him. “Or perhaps you thought that I didn’t have those kinds of urges about you?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I had hoped. You just have to trust me. If you do, all the rest will follow.”

Charlie switched off the fire under the teakettle. She leaned against the counter and stared helplessly.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Damian. I don’t know what the rules are.”

Damian hesitated.

She met his stare bravely.

He motioned to her with his finger. She took a tentative step forward and locked her fingers through his. “Now, there are only two rules. If you like the way something feels we go with it. If not, just say so and we try something else. Simple, huh?”

Sure that there had to be something more to it than that, she nodded weakly. She reached up and started opening the buttons on his shirt. Her hands shook, but when he tried to help, she pushed him away. “Find something else to do. I’ll figure this out myself.”

“Stubborn, right to the end.”

He slipped his hands inside the robe and inched it off her shoulders. Shyly, she raised her arms to cover herself. Her body trembled.

Damian gathered her in his arms. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she muttered against his chest.

“Scared?”

“Yes. But not of you. I’m afraid I won’t ... I mean . . . what if I’m not very good . . .” She was babbling like an idiot and his laughter didn’t help.

“I thought only men had performance anxiety. There is nothing about you I wouldn’t like.” He took a half step backward and ran an appraising gaze over her. “You are so beautiful.”

He made her feel beautiful. “So are you.”

Charlie bit her bottom lip and returned her attention to his shirt. Muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as she worked her way down the buttons. She slipped the shirt off his shoulders and discarded it on the counter. As she turned back, he caught her wrist in his grasp and pulled her to him.

At first she was patient but as Damian caressed her skin in hot, fluid strokes, the last threads of shyness broke. She opened the snap on his jeans and slid her hands inside against his warm skin. He groaned. With one swift yank, she pulled his pants and underwear down at the same time. Pausing for a moment while he stepped out and kicked them free of his feet, she ran her eyes over his beautiful body.

“You are perfect,” she stammered out in surprise and awe.

“I’m just a man.” A man who gave her everything and expected nothing in return. A man she wanted more than she wanted her next breath. He was not just a man, he was her man.

“I want you.”

“Likewise.” Damian twisted his fingers through the curls at the back of her neck and pulled her to him. Tiny kisses as soft as whispers covered every inch of her face. He lowered his head to her ear, tracing the outline with his tongue. She giggled from the ticklish sensation, but her mirth was soon replaced by a sigh of pleasure.

Her eyes flew open in surprise as she was swept up in his arms. She had forgotten they were still in the kitchen. “Have you had enough of the linoleum, Damian?”

“To last me a lifetime, thank you.” He carried her to the bedroom and placed her on the bed. “Are you still okay?” he asked, giving her another chance to change her mind.

She smiled and tapped the bed next to her. She was readier than she was ever going to be. Couldn’t he tell?

Damian stretched out beside her and met her parted lips. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she tasted him. Peppermint, she wondered fleetingly, and then all rational thought deserted her.