Sealed With a Kiss (29 page)

“I’d better go. It’s seven-thirty, and I have to get up early tomorrow.” She started toward the hallway, and he followed. She was glad he didn’t attempt to persuade her to stay longer.

“And my grandpa will call me no later than six-thirty in the morning to give me his views on you and the boys,” she went on. “I’m as sure of that as I am of my name.” She reached for the doorknob, but his hard, masculine hand covered hers, halting her.

“When will I see you again, Naomi?” His heated gaze sent her pulse skidding rapidly, and she opened her mouth to give him a day, then thought of Aaron and turned away.

“We’d better leave things as they were, Rufus. I told you that if I ever get things together, I’ll come to you, and we’ll talk.” The fire that she saw in his eyes suddenly became impersonal, and she knew he was about to lose a battle with his temper. She struggled not to panic when he suddenly closed the distance between them, towered over her, and pulled her into his arms.

“Have you ever seen a puppet as big as I am? One that you can dangle according to your whims, huh? Have you?” His words and tone sounded agreeable, but she knew by the fiery daggers in his eyes and the involuntary twitch of his jaw that he was spitting mad.

“Do I at least get a kiss for Christmas?” In his arms, under his spell, feeling his strength, she didn’t have the energy or the desire to speak. He had only to lock his heady gaze on her to scramble her brain. He didn’t wait for her reply, and she met his mouth with parted lips. She had expected his kiss to be an avalanche, a roaring fire. It wasn’t, and she shuddered at its tender possessiveness and clung to him, saturated with need.

His eyes didn’t betray his feelings, and she barely had control of hers. “What…what is it, Rufus? I thought you were furious with me, but you…you can’t kiss me like this if you’re angry—can you?”

“I hate to end Christmas Day like this, Naomi, especially since I don’t remember being happier. But I’m tired of this. I’m almost thirty-five years old, and I didn’t make out like this when I was nineteen. I’m serious about us, Naomi. I’ve told you that often enough, so I assume you know it and that when you’re ready, you’ll do something about it. When you
do
get around to it, I may still be serious, but there’s a chance that I may not be. I hope you haven’t mistaken passion for love, because there’s an important difference.” He walked her to her car. “Drive carefully, and don’t play your cards too close to your chest. Oh, and call me so I’ll know you’re home safe.”

Uneasiness stole over her when he walked away before she turned the key in the ignition. Was he preparing himself psychologically to stop feeling protective toward her? She pulled out of his driveway slowly, telling herself it was what she wanted, but she no longer believed that. She drove past the beautiful homes, festively decorated and welcoming, with shades up and blinds open. Many families were still at their dinner tables. She thought back on the day, and happiness surged through her. She’d had a real family Christmas, and she had shared the morning with Aaron.

Nobody’s life was perfect; you changed what you could, and what you couldn’t change, you accepted. Some people didn’t, and that’s why psychiatrists were rich. She laughed. They weren’t getting a shot at her. She glanced at her small tree as she walked into her living room; it hadn’t seemed so puny until Aaron had scoffed at it. The memory prompted a smile; he’d promised to get her a big one next year. She reached for the phone to call Rufus and stopped. What right did he have to judge her feelings for him when he hadn’t once told her what he felt?

And how could he demand that she pour out her insides to him when he hadn’t ever given her a solid reason for doing so? Maybe she wasn’t the only one having a problem with trust. She kicked off her shoes and reached for the phone. Maybe he didn’t reciprocate what she felt.

“Hi. I’m home. Thanks for a special Christmas. Kiss the boys for me. ’Bye.” She hadn’t given him a chance to do more than greet her. The phone rang, just as she’d expected.

“Good night, Naomi.” Furious, was he? Her spirits soared at the thought of Rufus battling his temper, knowing that he’d overreacted to her little mischief. “If I’m not careful, I’ll go absolutely nuts over that guy, and then where will I be?”

Chapter 16

N
aomi crawled out of bed, dragged herself into the kitchen and got a cup of instant coffee. Then she put on a pot of real coffee and waited for her grandfather’s telephone call. Judd was as predictable as night and day, so she wouldn’t have to wait long. She lifted the receiver on the first ring.

“Good morning, Grandpa. How are you this morning?”

“I’m surprised you’re up so early after your late night, gal.” She wanted to correct him about that, but he didn’t pause. “I see you’ve finally got smart and found yourself a good man. You’d better latch on to him, gal; You don’t find men like him often these days. And he’s got two nice boys there. I want you to bring those boys out here, and I want my great-grandson to come over here and spend some time with me. That’s a fine boy; you can see the Logan genes in him. Are you working today?” Naomi sighed. She should have known that having Judd with her at Rufus’s home was going to cost her something.

“We’ll see, Grandpa. It wouldn’t hurt you to have a friendly talk with Rosalie Hopkins about Aaron. Don’t forget, she’s his mother.” It hurt deep in her soul to say it, but she had to accept it. And Judd Logan had to do the same. “She and I are on good terms, Grandpa, so please don’t upset her.”

“What do you take me for, gal? Now, you bring those boys out here.”

Naomi spread her bed linen across the chairs on her balcony to freshen up in the crisp, dry air. She raced back into the kitchen to the telephone and was disappointed to discover that it was Marva. Why had she hoped Rufus would call her?

They exchanged pleasantries and season’s greetings before Marva asked her, “Are you going to the town meeting tomorrow night? The topic is teenage behavior, and Cat Meade’s book is being discussed. I’d like to go, but Lije says he’s sick of the subject.”

“I’ll call you later and let you know.” Naomi sat on the kitchen stool long after their conversation was over. What was she to think? She’d spent eight hours with Rufus yesterday and he hadn’t mentioned it. She’d show him. She’d go.

She and Marva arrived early and found seats in the front row of the small auditorium. Radio and television cameras, cords, lights, and other trappings of the trade alerted them to the significance of the occasion, as did the presence of some local leaders. How could she experience so many emotions simultaneously, she wondered, after the program began. Exhilarating pride in the man, in his dignity and bearing brought her shoulders upright. He was different, apart from other men. She knew a keen delight in the smooth, knowledgeable way in which he answered audience questions, but she was furious at some of the things he said. She couldn’t wait to tell him off. To think that she’d almost been willing to believe him capable of understanding and accepting her. But no, he was standing by what he’d written in that book. She rushed out at the end, before the applause died down, heedless of Marva’s difficulty in keeping up with her.

“Naomi, for goodness’ sake, what’s the matter with you? Why are you so mad at him? I thought he was wonderful.” Naomi slowed enough to let Marva catch up. She put an arm around her friend’s shoulder, and they walked swiftly through the shadowy parking lot until she spotted Rufus’s minivan. There was no sense in trying to explain the point to Marva. And besides, she wanted to hold on to her anger until Rufus got there.

As if sensing that the issue was a personal one between them, Marva gave Naomi an excuse when they saw Rufus coming toward them still some distance away, and went to find her car.

“Hello, Naomi. I was surprised to see you here tonight.” She continued to lean against the driver’s door, blocking his way.

“I’ll bet you were. Probably as surprised as I was to learn about this from someone other than you.”

She smiled, hoping to unsettle him. “Honest, Rufus, your views are outdated. If you backed into the twentieth century, just think how many people you could bring along with you. You’ve got a lot of fans.” She grinned more broadly. “You going to give it a try?”

“That ploy won’t work,” he growled. “You’re not ringing my bell tonight, sweetheart. I knew when I saw you in the audience that you’d be spoiling for a fight the first chance you got. I’m tired, and I didn’t have time to get any dinner, so would you please let me get in my car?” She didn’t move. A light shone almost directly above them, letting her see his face clearly. To her dismay, he wasn’t angry, or even slightly annoyed, and she sighed deeply, feeling the fight go out of her. He must have detected it, because his face creased into a gentle smile.

“I know you’re touchy about anything related to motherhood and the family, just as I am, so let’s bury it for now, shall we? Come, let’s get something to eat; I’ll drive you back here later to get your car.”

She stared at him, horror evidently showing on her face. “What is it, Naomi? Did you forget something?” Her laughter rang out in the quiet darkness, echoing back from the adjoining alleys. Marva and her matchmaking, she’d deal with her friend properly.

“I didn’t forget anything, but Marva’s forgot that she drove me here, and she’s gone home.” She moved from the door.

“My good fortune. Give Marva my thanks.” A glance at his face told her that his joviality was real; he seemed to be glad that she was with him.

Truth. Maybe that would be her New Year’s resolution. “I’d enjoy a light meal with you, Rufus.” He opened the door and almost bodily put her into the van, then seated himself and looked down at her.

“Can you tell me why we stood out there nearly twenty minutes? This is the coldest night of the year.” His broad, electric smile was all the warmth she needed, but she didn’t plan to take the truth that far. His heat reached her through her coat when his arm grazed her leg as he shifted gears. She wouldn’t move closer to him, but she knew she should make herself move away. She did neither and soon felt him do it again, deliberately this time, and with a little more pressure. Then her glance caught him observing her out of the corner of his eyes. She tried to think of a clever remark but could only sputter and finally double up with laughter.

“Go on. Press your luck, Meade.”

He laughed with her. “Terrible, aren’t I? Want to go to Maison Blanche?”

She shook her head. What kind of a mood was he in?

He shrugged elaborately. “Why not?”

“It’s too rich for my taste this time of night. I couldn’t eat a five-course meal. What do you say to Twenty-One Feral? Great lobster, and the potato-crusted salmon is to die for.”

He turned onto L Street. “Sounds good to me.” They were shown to a table not far from the pianist, who played a haunting blues. For a while, Naomi hummed along softly.

“Why did you stop? I enjoy your voice, even when you’re only humming.” He reached across the table and tucked a bit of hair behind an ear. Her heartbeat accelerated at the tender gesture, and she bowed her head. Warm sensations whispered within her at the touch of his index finger gently stroking her chin, a silent entreaty for her to look at him. Her glance swept upward almost of its own volition, as if she had no will of her own.

“Why?” he repeated, his warm, fawnlike eyes sending her intimate messages and daring her to give him back the same. She wanted to be angry with him for twirling her around as if she was a top, unraveling her just when she thought she had it all together.

“Why?” he persisted, even though they both knew her answer was of little importance.

“I’m not in the mood for the blues,” she finally replied. “Blues can rip your insides out, just tear you up.” His eyes widened in astonishment, but he let it pass.

“Are you in the mood for me?” Lightning-like thrills warmed her as the heat in his seductive gaze matched his words. Hadn’t something similar happened the night before last, Christmas night?

“You aren’t deliberately toying with me, are you, Rufus? Let’s just resist that sort of thing tonight, okay?” But as the cool wine trickled down her throat and his seductive gaze commanded her submission, she ceased struggling against him. She didn’t care if he was provocative; feeling his caress and being able to touch him was what mattered. Still, it might be best to get onto a different topic.

“My grandpa called and ordered me to bring Preston and Sheldon to see him. He also had a few nice things to say about you.”

Rufus laughed. She liked his laugh, as opposed to some of his grins. When he laughed, he meant it. “Naomi, Judd called me before seven yesterday morning, and ordered
me
to bring the boys to see him. I told him I’d take them this weekend, and I intend to beat him at a few games of chess while I’m there.”

Her eyebrows went up at his last statement. “Even though my grandpa is ninety-four, Rufus, he’s a wizard at chess.”

He must not have heard her. “I’m looking forward with pleasure to beating him.” Their dinner arrived. A shrimp salad for her and grilled salmon steak with boiled potatoes and asparagus for Rufus. Naomi declined dessert, but Rufus helped himself to a heavy serving of chocolate cake with raspberry ice-cream. She wondered where he’d put it.

Between sips of espresso, Rufus prodded Naomi about her reaction to his talk earlier that evening. “Why did you get upset about my mentioning Rosie the Riveter? Everybody knows the American family hasn’t been the same since the Second World War. I gave five factors that I thought were responsible for changes in the family, but you latched on to that one. Naomi, what is behind this? It’s almost as if…why are you so passionate about it?” If only she wouldn’t resort to wit, if she’d just talk to him, let him understand her. He needed to understand her, to know her, really
know
her. “Naomi, what is it?” He watched disappointed as she put a hand under her chin, propped her elbow on the table, and smiled wanly.

“I’d like to know what’s behind
your
stubbornness about this, Rufus.” Shaking his head in frustration, he signaled the waiter and ordered them additional cups of espresso. They had so much in common. And their attraction for each other was so powerful that he knew it might one day bring him to his knees. But not yet.

He watched the flickering candle flame in the hurricane lamp that lit their table. “You know, from time to time there’s a barrier between us that I just can’t figure out. We’ll be on the same wavelength, singing the same tune, and suddenly you’ll put up an impenetrable wall between us. I suspect it leads right back to what we’re talking about now. To what my book is about.”

He slid his left hand slowly down her soft right cheek, touching the silk he knew he’d find there, gently caressing the warmth that he suddenly needed. A shudder plowed through him, catching him unawares, when she sucked in her breath and lowered her eyes.

He took her hand, turned it over, and examined her long, tapered fingers, brushed the back with the tips of his own, and looked at her steadily. “I guess we can’t discuss it. We’re not talking about conditions in our community or anywhere else, for that matter; we’re talking about ourselves, Naomi, and I don’t think we’ll ever agree. If we do, I suspect that’ll be the day we both begin to live, really live. We need each other, but neither one of us is willing to settle for half a loaf. And neither of us should. Let’s go.”

Naomi raced anxiously to her front door the next morning, hoping that the caller was Rufus. She’d had a sleepless night with dreams and visions of her and Rufus at opposite ends of everything—buildings, streets, and poles, even a canoe. It was symbolic, she knew, but her flesh prickled at the memory of the eerie happenings in her dream. Shaking her head as if to clear her mind of all unpleasantness, she reached for the knob. Maybe their relationship wouldn’t have stood a chance even if Aaron hadn’t existed. Aaron…thoughts of him warmed her, and she smiled inwardly. Would she ever get used to having a thirteen-year-old child? Good heavens, he’d be fourteen tomorrow, she remembered. Shock riveted through her when she opened the door and saw Aaron standing there with a worried look, biting his bottom lip.

“Hi, I, uh…I hope I’m not disturbing anything.” He looked at her, hopefully, she thought, and then kicked at the carpet. “My mom told me I could visit you anytime you don’t mind. She said I ought to call or we oughta make an arrangement or something, but I figured if you were busy I’d just go on back home. I mean, it isn’t like you were expecting all of a sudden to have me hanging around. My mom had to go to work, so…look, I’m sorry I bothered you.”

She put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him through the door. Seeing his relief, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to give him a hug. That seemed to relax him. Still holding his hand, she walked on back to the kitchen, where she had been testing designs for a sportswear logo.

“I’m glad you came, Aaron. Can I safely assume that you’re hungry?”

He grinned broadly and settled more comfortably in the straight-backed chair. “Always. What you can’t assume is that I’m not hungry. What are you going to cook?” She wondered what he’d do if she hugged him breathless.

“It’s still breakfast time, so why don’t I make us an old-fashioned country breakfast? You know—biscuits, sausage, grits, eggs, and fried apples. You can have hot chocolate.” He wrinkled his nose in apparent disdain.

“What would you prefer, s—Aaron?” What would he do when she finally slipped up and called him “son?”

He crossed his left ankle over his right knee and smiled indulgently, knocking her breath away. “Coffee. Noomie, I’m too old to be drinking hot chocolate. That’s kids’ stuff.” She laughed, and Aaron sat upright, staring at her.