Stardust Miracle (24 page)

For no reason at all, tears sprang into her eyes. She blinked them away and then followed him to the sink.

She couldn’t talk, her throat choked by his easy domesticity. This was something Jim would never have done. 

His loss. She found it...uber-sexy.

Trey turned on the water and asked where the detergent was. She found it behind the paper towel roll then grabbed a towel and dried as he told her stories about his first years in California when he was a teen and washed dishes to earn enough money for a truck. After he got the truck, he graduated to waiter and worked at a fancy L.A. restaurant Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. The other four days he drove out of the city, far out, finding country roads and looking for anything old and valuable – especially anything to do with motorcycles and old cars.

He learned as he went. Made money on great deals, lost money on lousy ones. Spent hours reading reference books and on the Internet. Talked to other pickers. Went to museums. Stuffed his head with knowledge until he was the go-to guy for anything to do with motorcycles.

“You listen too well.” He pulled the plug and the soapy water slurped down the drain.

“I feel...kind of in awe.” She bent to put the dinner dishes and dessert plates in the lower cupboard.

When she straightened, one side of his mouth was quirked up in a sardonic smile. “You must be kidding me.”

“Don’t undervalue yourself. You carved a spot of your own in the world. You’re independent, doing what you enjoy, following your passion. You’re not like me. I did everything safe, everything that was expected of me.” Her voice was getting hoarse but she pushed through it. “Everything other people wanted me to do.”

“Hey,” he murmured, as if he were comforting a child. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

She wanted to lean her head against his chest. Instead she stepped back. “Your life is authentic. Mine...isn’t.” 

“Baby...” He took a step toward her.

Panic slammed into her, along with a wave of self-disgust. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.” She rubbed her hands together, as if she were rubbing dirt off her palms. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped and put her hands behind her.

His brow furrowed. “What can’t you do?”

She tried to smile but her lips trembled and she gave up. For years she’d kept her emotions neat and contained. The same way she kept her house. But now everything was getting messy.

“I was going to try to seduce you into doing something, but I can’t do it. You’re too...real. Too nice.”

“Nice?” His eyebrows contracted and he looked a little disgusted.

Despite feeling as if a ball of barbed wire was stuck in her chest, she smiled. “It’s not a dirty word. Nice is...sexy.”

“You’re probably the only woman in the world who thinks that.”

“You’re nice and you’re a hero and you’re real...” She gestured at him. “And just
look
at you. Any woman who doesn’t think you’re sexy has to be blind or crazy.”

He laughed, low in his throat, sending shivers through her.

Her face and neck heated. She may as well just throw herself at him and say, ‘Take me. Take me now!’

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want?” He smiled, slow and sexy. “Maybe I’ll let you seduce me after all.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

She melted. Like marshmallows on a tiny tree branch held over a fire, she was melting into a gooey mess. “Can’t we do the seducing first?”

He laughed and pulled her against him. Then he lowered his sexy head, his open lips slanted against her open lips. A sigh shivered through her melted body and the individual parts came to life, igniting a fire deep down inside her.

She clung to him, even as he pulled his mouth away.

“Don’t you know how to bargain?” he asked.

She shook her head. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

“You hold out, and when you get what you want, then you give what the other person wants.”

“This is what I want.” She put a hand on each side of his face. “You. I want
you
.”

His mouth came down again, silencing her, and she slid her hands onto his back. She lifted a leg, wound it around the back of his thighs and pulled his length against her. His erection pushed against her belly.

When he pulled away, she wanted to cry out. But she held it back, even as an overwhelming darkness settled in her. A fear that he didn’t want her, though she’d felt the evidence that he did just a second ago...

But this...this dance that men and women did...with all its dips and turns and gavottes and secret glances...was ridiculous and insane...and sometimes so wonderful they wanted to do it again and again. That’s where she was...at the wanting to do it again.

“Your bedroom?” he asked.

No. The walk to her bedroom was too far. She wanted him now. Right this second. After all, they’d cleared the table. He could take her there. Like in a scene from a movie.

The thought excited her, and she glanced at the table...and winced. It didn’t look comfortable. And how would she feel afterward? Eating on it?

Her gaze switched to the floor. No, not there. It had to be even less comfortable than the table. Plus, this floor had had a puppy, a dog, a kitten and shoes that walked about on it. She’d vacuumed before he came, but she hadn’t washed it.

How was it that making love on tables and floors looked so sexy in movies?

She stepped toward the hall. “Yes, the bedroom.”

Moments later her clothes were on the floor and so were his. She was usually so neat, but today she felt wanton. Unlike herself. She’d shed her clothes with abandon.

She wanted his skin sliding against hers so badly it was an ache in her center. In her womb. For once she didn’t care if any of her body parts jiggled. He was looking at her as if he were eating up every jiggle. As if he wanted to taste every inch.

She stretched out on the bed, her arms reaching for him. He didn’t come down on her right away. Just stood and looked at her.

Chills whispered up her skin. Except for her center. That heated. Became furnace hot.

Then he was on top of her. He was gentle and slow and made her mad with want. Until they were together, as close as a man and woman could get. Connected more securely than any two pieces of a puzzle. 

She didn’t see sparkles, but one small quake after another quivered through her. She clung to Trey, holding on tight, small screams coming out of her throat.

She wanted to do this forever.

Then it was his turn to shudder. A long growl roared out of his throat before he dropped onto her, breathing hard, his body shaking. She held him until his quakes stopped.

They lay there for long moments, his spicy scent filling her nostrils.

He was heavier than Jim, who prided himself on only gaining twenty pounds since college, but Trey’s weight came from muscle – probably from lifting parts in and out of the truck. He was a man’s man. And she could testify he was a woman’s as well.

She smiled at the white ceiling and thought she must look like a blissed-out porn queen. Certainly making love with Jim had never left her feeling so satisfied. So...complete. A word she hated to use in this context. As if without a man something inside her was missing. But just this one time, that’s how she felt. She had been missing out on this joy.

He rolled off and she held her breath, but this time there was no leakage between her legs.

She hadn’t expected it, and really, it was a relief, despite the tiny pang she felt in the one small part in her where hope still bloomed. But she’d been down this hopeful road so often, and it was a route that always ended in disappointment. She didn’t want to go there anymore. It just led to her getting a slap on her head and a kick in her heart.

He left to go in the bathroom. Staying in bed, she watched his glutes contract as he walked. They looked magnificent. Probably better than hers, but she wasn’t about to check her behind in a mirror to make sure. Some things were better off not knowing.

Once, after watching an
Oprah
show years ago, she’d sat naked on her bedroom carpet in front of the door mirror, opened her legs and looked at her vagina. Wasn’t that enough?

He came back into the bedroom without the condom and with his penis smaller than before, but still a nice size. Not that size counted...though early in their marriage Jim had her measure his erection, so she was certain it counted to some men.

“Now that you’ve seduced me...” He grabbed his black briefs and lifted his knee. “What did you want to seduce from me?”

Chapter Forty

The silly grin she knew was on her face like a ‘Great Sex’ badge slid off. Followed by a sinking feeling in her stomach. Not the kind of sinking from a few small holes in a rowboat. This was the Titanic-meeting-iceberg kind.

Becky slid out of bed and stood. She should have practiced this. Wrote a script and memorized it. She should have followed the original plan. Made him so wild for her body that he would say yes to anything she asked.

Even as she thought it, a yucky feeling rose up inside her.

She didn’t want his sperm
that
way.

Besides, he wasn’t that kind of a man. If he were, she wouldn’t want him to father her child.

“Your sperm,” she said.

His head whipped up, and his foot, about to go into his briefs, came slowly down to the floor. His gaze never left her face as he sat on the edge of the bed and studied her with a seriousness that didn’t look one iota less grave because he was naked and holding his briefs.

Her words dried in her throat. She’d dutifully listened to CDs about self-empowerment and positive thinking during her years with Jim, but looking at the creases between Trey’s eyebrows and his set mouth, negativity whooshed through her.

She inhaled deeply. Getting oxygen into her chest and belly and, more important, to her brain. Aware of her nudity, she kept her arms at her side. If he could do this nude, so could she.

His gaze remained on her face. Didn’t dip below her chin.

“I always wanted children,” she said, forcing the words out. She started this; she would damn well finish it. “I’ve been having a hell of a time getting pregnant. Apparently I don’t have a lot of eggs. My doctor says it could be a genetic defect, but to my knowledge, I can’t trace it to either of my parents’ sides.”

“Doctors aren’t always right.”

“I had a second opinion, and the conclusion was the same.” Tears burned her eyes but she kept her gaze on his. “Neither doctor said it
wouldn’t
happen. Just that the odds were against me. And when the condom broke last time...” She swept out her hand in a wide arc that ended with her hand over her heart.

And when she spoke, her voice lowered. “I hoped. I thought if I did get pregnant, that would be the miracle that was prophesied.”

His eyebrows contracted.
“Prophesied?”

“At church a few Sundays ago. You didn’t hear about it?”

“Like in a bible?” he asked.

“No, like on car windows in the church parking lot.” She shrugged. “I forgot that you live in the big city of Tomahawk.”

He grinned, and she felt relief that he could still smile at her. That he didn’t hate her as she poured her heart out to him.

“Laugh if you will, but I’m used to everyone in Miracle knowing everyone else’s business.” She frowned, because Jim had hidden his infidelity fairly well. As her father had done before Jim. “
Almost
everyone’s business. It’s gotten so that if I see a line of birds perched on a telephone line, chirping away, I suspect they’re talking about the second bird to their right and what bugs it ate the day before.”

He laughed. “You think they know about us?”

“I don’t care if they know about us.”

He nodded at her, and at this sign of approval she breathed easier, her chest opening like an accordion stretched wide.

Quickly she explained the letters on the cars. With the words flying out of her mouth like space trash, she thought about telling him about the sparkles and Marsh’s ghost. But when she told him about the letters his eyebrows lowered in a frown again, and her words faltered and slowed. And her chest, so open and wide, closed up a little.

“You believe a miracle is really coming?” He looked at her as if she were a small child who believed in the fairy godmother.

She supposed she did, because she kind of had found one in Elsa. But Elsa was flesh and blood, and much, much better than a fairy.

“I believe anything is possible.” She pushed her hand through her hair. “The miracle didn’t quite happen. Not a big one. But...” She shook her head and looked at him. One of his eyebrows was arched in cynicism.
Not a good sign
.

“A small miracle then?” he asked.

“To me, it’s a miracle of sorts.” She was starting to feel a chill but remained standing, naked. It seemed important to be literally and figuratively naked. No clothes, no barriers, no lies while they talked about this. “A...friend had her eggs harvested and frozen, and she’s offered them to me.”

“Sarah?”

She shook her head. “Someone else. I accepted, and now all I need is sperm.”

He blinked, and gazed down at the bed. Or maybe he was looking at his penis, considering the conversation.

His gaze shifted back to her face. “If I fathered a child, I’d want to be a real one.”

She nodded. “I’d be fine with that. Of course, I wouldn’t ask for any money.”

His frown told her that she shouldn’t have mentioned money. She shut her mouth before any more words spilled out. Her hands felt nerveless and her nipples were tightening, and she thought maybe she should’ve put clothes on after all.

How stupid was she to think that being naked meant something? All it really meant was that she was a little goofy. Maybe a lot goofy. 

“Are you considering it?” She clenched her hands.

He looked away from her, at the door. Her hands clenched tighter. She’d read a couple of body language books. Looking at the door meant that mentally he was already one step outside of it.