Something About You (Just Me & You) (34 page)

“Oh, Gage.
Please
.” Sabrina sniffed.

“Well, I think it’s great,” he said with enthusiasm, looking
around him. 

“That I sound like a jealous girlfriend?”

Gage smiled. “No. I’m talking about the house. I don’t know
what to say except for ‘thank you,’ Sabrina. I’ll have a housekeeper come in
next time. I didn’t ask you to stay so you could clean up after me.”

“I get bored when I don’t have anything constructive to do.”
She felt her cheeks flush hot as she slid the yearbook back into the bookcase.
“Amazing the level of cleanliness one can achieve without the distractions of
cable television and an Internet connection.”

The next thing she knew he’d wrapped her in a strong hug.
The clean smell of his skin was more enticing than the chili.  

“Don’t,” she protested, struggling out of his arms. “I’ve
been sweating.”

“Fathom that. Chief of Staff Sabrina March perspires heavily
in places other than House Chambers.” He kissed the top of her head before he
released her. “Don’t worry. I won’t cross into your private stench again
without your express permission.”

His tone was teasing, but he still looked a little drained.
She spotted a manila envelope with the return address of a local law firm
rolled up in the pocket of his jacket. She looked into his eyes and in that
split second realized that his gaze had been trained on hers.

“Gage, is that—?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He quickly deflected her unfinished
question and snagged the handle of the takeout bag with one forefinger. “C’mon.
Let’s get you bathed and fed, changeling.”

Sabrina took the longest shower of her life. Every muscle in
her body ached. She felt as though she’d spent an entire day working out at the
gym. After the steaming spray ran cold and her skin was saturated with the
scent of white castile soap, she rubbed herself dry with a freshly laundered
towel. She pulled on a pair of Gage’s old flannel pajamas and rolled up the
legs. She found him in the kitchen laying out a spread of coneys, tater tots
and soft drinks. He knew she didn’t usually eat junk food.

He also seemed to know that she had been craving it.

“Sit. Eat,” he told her. “Nicki’s has all the fat and salt
your heart can handle. Maybe a few vitamins if you don’t pick off the onions.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” She pulled up a seat, her
mouth watering. “Nicki’s was the big high school hang-out.”

“First port of call on a Friday night after the big game.”
He grinned.

“And yet you’re still upright and breathing. It’s a
miracle.” Sabrina eyed the hot dogs. They glistened with grease. If she were in
Austin, she’d be eating takeout with Carlton and Moira in Ward’s office. Sushi
or a Caesar salad. Something light that didn’t cause heartburn. The rich smell
of American cheese, chili and fried potatoes almost made her feel faint.
Rolling up the long flannel sleeves, she picked up one of the coneys and took a
hearty bite. Then another and another. The tater tots, crisp and brown on the
outside, were soft and gooey on the inside.

“This is
mmm
, Gage.” Sabrina relished the dense, oily
taste.

“Of course it is. It’s soul food for white-bread Iowa boys
and girls,” Gage popped a tater tot in his mouth and chewed it slowly. The
corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

“Do I have chili on my chin?” Sabrina asked, alarmed.

“You look cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah, cute. You’re sitting there in my flannel eating to
your heart’s content, sort of like a character in a Hepburn-Tracy movie. And
yes.”

“Yes, what?” she asked.

“You do have chili on your chin. Here, let me—” He dipped
the corner of a paper napkin in a glass of water and leaned over the table to
wipe it away. “There. Now you look civilized.” He stuffed the sullied napkin
and the half-spent carton of potatoes into one of the bags. He hadn’t touched
the rest of his food.

“You’re not eating,” Sabrina pointed out.

“I grabbed dinner at the hospital cafeteria earlier, effectively
killing my appetite for the next twelve hours.”

“So is that fair game?” Still famished, she cast covetous
eyes on the remaining coney. Gage nudged it in her direction. Her appetite was
out of control. Then she realized that aside from the muffin and the airplane
food, she hadn’t had a real meal in two days.

“Happy?” he asked after she’d sucked down the last bit of
her cherry cola.

“I’m in heaven,” she sighed, stretching her arms over her
head leisurely. The heavy food had a narcotic effect. She felt like she’d been
hooked up to a Benadryl drip. When she blinked her eyelids felt leaden. A quick
catnap couldn’t hurt. She folded her arms on the table to cradle her head,
distantly aware that Gage was moving around the kitchen. She could hear him clearing
the table of containers and condiment packets.

“I should be taking care of you,” she murmured. She felt a
tight, burning sensation in her chest. Heartburn. She probably deserved it for
eating the last hot dog.

“Happy New Year, darlin’.” She heard the rumble of his voice
from afar. The last sensations she remembered before everything went black were
the cool Formica under her cheek and the warmth of his hand ruffling her hair.

Gage woke abruptly.

His body was covered with sweat. His heart pounded in his
chest, and he could feel blood racing through his veins, but he couldn’t tell
if he was hot or cold. The old nightmare — bits and pieces pulled from his
subconscious that involved the crash of metal, shattering glass and Michelle’s
pale, still face — triggered his flight instinct. An inner voice urged him
to go. To run away.

You feel guilty because you’re still alive.

He sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes and took a few deep, slow
breaths. He felt disoriented, disconnected from place and time. He was back in
Iowa. And judging from the way the moonlight tilted into the room so clear and
bold, it was sometime during the wee hours of the morning.

What was the dream trying to tell him? That he was making a
mistake?

“Gage? What’s wrong?” The sound of Sabrina’s voice startled
him. He had forgotten that another person was in the house. She stood in the
doorway wearing his baggy flannel pajamas. In the cast of cold blue moonlight,
he could see the worry on her face.

“It’s nothing,” he told her, pushing sweat-dampened
bedclothes aside. “I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”

“It’s definitely not nothing. You were having a nightmare. A
bad one. I heard you call out from down the hall.” She walked into the room and
sat down on the edge of the bed. “D’you want to talk about it?”

Gage was silent. He didn’t want to discuss anything right
now — at least nothing to do with the dream or Michelle. He just wanted to
listen to the sound of Sabrina’s voice, measured and calm, as she talked about
something.
Anything but this.
Then he wanted to wrap her in his arms and
hold her all night long. To fall back to sleep with her hair tickling his nose.

“Or not,” she added diffidently. She pressed a cool hand
against his feverish brow. “I thought so. You’ve overheated. I’ll get you a
glass of water.”

While Sabrina went to fetch the water, Gage looked around
his old room. Maybe it had been a mistake to come back to this place when he
could have rented a room at an extended stay hotel in Des Moines. He had made
many happy memories in his grandparents’ home. There had been birthday parties
with cherry-flavored cake made from the box and ice cream churned in his
grandmother’s White Mountain. There were Christmas Eve sandwich dinners when
everyone sat around whatever spindly, asymmetrical juniper he and Michelle had
cut down and dragged home from the lake. 

But the old house had seen its share of bad times too. It
was just about to see another.

There was one thing Gage knew: Sabrina made all of it
bearable.

**

Magic words. What are they?

Sabrina retrieved a plastic tumbler from the kitchen
cabinet. Light from a lone streetlight flooded the small room and made
everything look older and more dingy. She’d seen Gage in worse form before.
She’d seen him angry, sullen and dismissive.

But never like this. Never so broken.

She glanced at the face of the cracked kitchen clock. It was
three in the morning. Molly could coax it out of her. She always did. If only
Sabrina could call and ask, “What are the magic words to say to Gage?”

She filled the tumbler with tap water and took it back to
his room.

“Here. Drink. You’re parched.” She put the glass in his
unsteady hand and wrapped his fingers around it with her own. He downed several
gulps and placed the empty glass on the bedside table. Then he shuddered.

“Shaking off the shadows?” Sabrina asked softly.

Gage nodded and then stared at his lap, head bowed and jaw
clenched.

“It happens to me sometimes, too,” she went on. “Dreams are
strange. My subconscious has a way of spitting out things I thought I’d
forgotten — or bad situations I’m trying to forget. When I wake up, I feel
like I’m still in them.”

Now she was babbling. Gage didn’t want to hear about the
nightmares she’d had since childhood — replays of her thirteenth birthday
party and coming home from Molly’s house to find her father packed and gone.
But wasn’t everything relative? On the broader spectrum of painful life
experiences, her parents’ divorce had been inconsequential.

“Why are you here, Sabrina?” Gage’s voice sounded strangely
flat.

“Because you were having a nightmare.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Why did
you come to Des Moines? I need the truth.”

Sabrina felt exposed under his gaze. He wasn’t just looking
at her; he was looking
into
her. The icy hue of the moonlight turned
everything monochrome, making his eyes look gray, his hair black and his skin
chalky white.

“I didn’t want you to have to go through whatever you were
going through alone,” she began tentatively. “I know how it feels, to face
things alone. I’ve always been able to do anything I set my mind to, Gage. I
can write words that sway minds and get one of the most important men in the
state re-elected, and I can dream up legislation that makes him one of the most
popular legislators in Texas. I can sit through countless dinners with my
supercilious half-brother, and I can be polite to my stepmother for my dad’s
sake. When Molly goes out of remission, I can go with her to the doctor’s
office and listen to him talk about the terrible things that could happen.

“But I can’t fix this. I can’t do anything except clean
house and feel irrationally jealous because some girl you dated in high school
asked me to pass on a greeting. Tell me what to do to fix it, Gage. If there’s
anything I can do,
please
tell me what it is, and I’ll do it now.”

Sabrina drew a breath. The words flew out in a passionate
rush from a place she didn’t know existed.

“Was it so hard, to be completely honest with me?” he
finally asked in a gentle voice.

She nodded and contemplated the question. “Yeah. It sort of
was. It felt … new.”

“I know. It gets easier with practice.” Gage’s smile was
wan. “But you’re wrong. You did fix something. I realized something tonight.
All of those nights I’ve spent at the hospital with Michelle? The only face I
wanted to see when I walked out of that room was yours, Sabrina. Then there you
were.”

“You wanted me? Here? Why?” she asked, surprised.

“I have my reasons. There is one thing you can to do make it
even better.”

“What’s that? More water?” Sabrina rose anxiously.

“No. Something you’ve never done before. It might be a
little scary.”

“What is it?” she asked cautiously.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said. “Close your eyes and fall
asleep with me.”

Sabrina didn’t know if she’d imagined the vulnerable note in
his voice. She did know with sudden clarity that she needed no convincing.

She was safe here with Gage.

“Of course.” She climbed in bed next to him. Close but not
touching. She tried to read his face in the near-darkness. He wore the same
taciturn expression he did when he worked on his lathe. Then she counted the
number of breaths they drew and determined that for every two of her
exhalations he matched her at one.

Make that two for two, she thought as his breathing quickened.
Capturing her face in the palms of his hands, he merged his lips with hers in a
series of slow-burning kisses, each lasting a short forever. Finally, he let
her come up for air.

“Sabrina, I want to make something clear.” Gage’s voice was
sober. “I’m not ‘Fitz.’ It took almost twenty years of inconsequential sex for
me to figure out that someone always gets shorted in the deal.”

“I know who you really are,” she said in a husky voice. It
was true. She’d known him since the night of the gala. “I’ve gotten involved
with people for all the wrong reasons too. I’ve wasted so much precious time. I
didn’t want you to be another number, Gage. I wanted to be sure.”

“Good,” he said. “Because after I walked out that day, I
swore to myself I wasn’t going to make love to you again unless you came to me
and told me you want to be my woman.”

The intensity in his voice unnerved her. So did his use of
the words
make love
.

“But right now I need to break the rules,” he went on.

“I know,” she whispered.

Gage didn’t speak another word. He tugged off her pajama
bottoms, unbuttoned her shirt and covered her breast with a large hand. He
remained poised over her, silent and still; it wasn’t until Sabrina’s eyes
adjusted to the dim light and she saw the look on his face that she realized he
was feeling her heart beat against his palm. She clutched his forearm with her
hand tightly. She needed for him to know that her body was his home.

She didn’t need anything else.

Then with a jagged inhalation, he was a body in motion.
Pinning her wrists over her head with his hands, he nudged her legs apart with
his knees and stubbornly rammed into her until she engulfed him, unprimed and
dry. It wasn’t until she felt the drag of his teeth against her lower lip that
she felt a gush of warmth coursing through her loins, lessening the friction.

He didn’t stop. Had no intention of stopping or slowing down
so she could match his pace. The intensity of it all was frightening. Sabrina
wished that she could still her thoughts and put them in some quiet, distant
place. But he was pushing into her with his all of his strength intently, as
though he wanted to be absorbed by her or to disappear. His hands tightened
around her wrists as he came with a jagged roar of gratification, anger and
despair. Exhausted and slick with sweat, he kept thrusting until she reached a
hot, abbreviated climax.

He let the full of his weight collapse against her, but his
body continued to shudder. She was aware that the dynamic between them had
shifted once again, although she couldn’t pinpoint how. This was not awesome
sex, fun sex or even primal sex. It had been deep, mental sex, driven by the
kind of need that had made her want to run away and hide. But she hadn’t run,
she reminded herself. She was still here. She ran her fingers through his
short, crisp hair. His neck felt damp and cool. Eventually his body stilled and
his breathing became regular.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

“For what?”

He rolled onto his back and scooped her up against his side
so that her head was tucked under his chin.

“For being a selfish prick — you’ll have to excuse the
double entendre — and for the irresponsible family planning. I don’t
exactly have my shit together.”

“We’re safe. I just got off my period. But in the future—”
She pressed her cheek against his collarbone. “—we have to decide on birth
control before things get hot and heavy. We’re behaving like a couple of
irresponsible teenagers on prom night. We both know better.”

“Wow. We’re finally having the serious talk.” She could hear
the faint smile creeping into his voice as it rumbled in her ear. “Does this
mean you’ve decided to ‘go’ with me after all?”

“Depends on if you give me your class ring or varsity jacket —
the latter being more ostentatious and therefore most desirable, of course.”

“I’ll shake it out of mothballs and take that as a yes.” He
positioned himself on his side, keeping her at elbow’s length. “As far as birth
control goes, I’m good with whatever you decide. Now’s not the time for us to
make babies.”

Make babies.
His words and their associated
implications startled her out of her languor and distracted her from the
tenderness that had softened his craggy features. He brushed damp tendrils of
hair away from her brow. The light pouring into the room had taken on a
slightly warmer hue. She could see the expression in his eyes become more
intense. 

“Do you know why I love you?” he finally asked.

“Have no idea.” Sabrina managed to croak out the response.
Her thoughts kept tripping over
that word
. Love. Love.
Love
. Gage
loved her.
Oh, hell
, she thought frantically as he tucked a strand of
hair around her ear. Not this. Not now.

It wasn’t the right time.

There were still too many things they needed to talk about,
things he needed to know about her. He couldn’t love her.
Not yet.

“You conserve your energy,” he went on. “You don’t bleed out
when something bad happens to you. You solder the wound and forge ahead. When
you feel passionate about something, it’s real and it’s true. You know when to
be tough and when to be tender. You’re strong, efficient and opinionated.
You’re a terrible liar. You’d never get away with anything on my watch.”

“Molly says the same thing,” Sabrina mustered up a response.
“She says I’d make a terrible politician.”

“Molly’s a sharp woman,” Gage said. “You lied to me last
night when you told me you were tired. You only said that because you knew I
needed my space, didn’t you? You’re the first woman who’s ever made me want to
settle down for the long haul. You’re the only woman I could see being mother
to my kids.
That’s
why I love you, Sabrina March.”

Words bubbled to her lips. She needed to tell him
now
.
They needed to talk about issues she’d hoped would never come up. But of
course, they eventually had to.

Gage didn’t want anything that the other men in her life
hadn’t.

She wanted to tell him everything. She knew what she’d say.
Get
it over with
, she urged herself.
Say it now.

I don’t want your babies, Gage. I just want you.

He drifted into a still, easy sleep while she was still
wrestling with her thoughts. The first light of dawn peeped into the room, a
pallid golden-gray she’d quickly come to associate with Iowa winters. She
studied his face, picking out small details she’d never noticed before. Like
how a patch of freckles on the bridge of his nose formed the shape of the
constellation Orion. There was a feathery scar under his right brow and another
smaller white line on the side of his chin.