The Driven Snowe (22 page)

I love you. I love you. I love you.

And on a lower counterpoint:

Please, please understand.

She reached for him, and he lowered his head for a kiss that made her heart beat frenetically. She felt it, the stirring need that he always called forth. It had an edge of desperation, of love and fear and intensity. She needed him. She needed space.

She needed both, desperately.

He was pressed against her side, and one hand reached down, feeling for the feathery curls between her legs. She gasped as he found her clitoris, and started teasing her, no more than gentle taunts. She breathed in small harsh gasps. “Josh.”

“We've got all night,” he murmured against her skin, and the tickling pleasure redoubled. He started to dip one finger inside of her, and she pressed her hips against him. He laughed.

“I can take it,” she said, remembering their first night together, “if you can.”

He laughed again, and pulled away. He stripped off the boxers, and his penis was erect, huge with need. “I've got a lot of patience tonight,” he said, and began toying with her again. The look on his face wasn't mischievous,
however—on the contrary, it was filled with a passionate tenderness. “I want it to be very, very special.”

He started kissing her breasts, first one, then the other, suckling gently until she was writhing beneath him, murmuring incoherent words of love and need. She felt the orgasm hit, and narrowed her eyes at him as he chuckled with uneven breath. “Two can play at this game,” she muttered, starting to reach for him.

He stopped her, his eyes surprisingly serious. “It's not a game, Angela,” he said, his voice low. He studied her.

She paused. “I know, Josh. I won't play with you,” she said, her own voice serious. Then she smiled. “But I will make tonight special.”

With that, she gently held him, feeling the heat coming off of his penis against the palm of her hand. She grinned as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, groaning softly. She carefully moved her fingers around him, cupping the weight of his balls, feeling the tension in his thighs. Then she started tasting him, and his hands bunched up in fists against the bed sheets. She licked, gauging his reaction, taking him with slow, loving suction. He was breathing harder now, his body tense as a bowstring.

She was waiting for him to snap.

He pulled her up against him, and kissed her, not gently, but ferociously. She kissed him just as hard, their tongues mating as he rolled on top of her. Abruptly, he stopped, his breathing hard and ragged against her neck.

“Slow, Angela.” His voice was muffled by her hair, and she smiled and rubbed his back as he leaned down and positioned himself at her entrance, readying her as
he usually did, lightly probing her with the head of it. “I want to remember this.”

She sighed as he pushed in inch by inch. He filled her completely, then lay still inside her. Putting pressure at the juncture of her thighs, he kissed her, simultaneously nudging her against her most sensitive spot.

The second orgasm surprised her, and she gasped against his lips in shock.

He only kissed her more fiercely, and his hips began to move in earnest. She lifted her hips to meet him. Each slow retreat, and slower entrance gliding inside her, making her feel the heat radiate from between her legs up to her heart. She was gasping, tugging at him, wrapping her legs around his. He was breathing harder, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his torso. He still continued his relentlessly slow pace, moving inside her like the ocean's eternal rhythm.

“Josh,” she said, as impossibly the pressure began to build again, this time in gradual and escalating increments. “Oh, Josh…”

“Angela,” he murmured, and finally his speed began to increase. “Yes. Yes…”

Her hips rose to meet his, and they were suddenly straining against each other, pistoning to meet each other, still graceful but full of sexual fire. She could feel him, full and hard, inside of her, and she…

“Josh!” she screamed, and her legs wrapped around his waist. The orgasm was more powerful than anything she'd ever felt. Aftershocks rocked through her system, and her head pounded against the pillow as her body shuddered.

He continued pumping against her, his pace a frenzy of passion. He was still wrapped in her, and she felt the
orgasm belt through him as he emptied himself inside of her with three long, shuddering releases.

They were silent and still, lying in each other's arms for a long time afterward as the sweat cooled on their bodies and their breathing evened out.

Angela clutched him almost protectively, running her fingers through his hair.
This is a man who understands me. A man who wouldn't hurt me, or leave me, or make me be something I'm not.
She wondered why she had ever even worried. Of course he'd be supportive of her trip to Italy. Josh had made demands on her time, true. But he'd been so giving. She could trust him. Maybe when she got back from her trip, she'd think about living with him. They could take their time, just as they had tonight. It would be special. She'd be ready by then. She loved him.

Now was the perfect time to explain all of this.

She cuddled against him. “I love you,” she said. “Josh, I…”

“Shh. I wasn't expecting this, and you know how I like plans,” he said, and she giggled. “But this couldn't be more perfect. I love you, Angela.”

“I know,” she said.

He stared at her. “Angela, will you marry me?”

At first, the words didn't even make sense. “Sorry?”

“Marriage. You know. Matching rings, white dress, one place of residence. Possibly kids, but I don't want to push.”

“Marriage?” She sat upright, catching his chin with her forehead. She rubbed at it, even as he groaned and laughed, rubbing his jaw. “You mean,
that
was what this was all about?”

“Of course,” he said. “And you had me sweating, believe me. I don't think I've been this nervous in all my life.” He took a deep breath. “Incidentally, I haven't heard a yes yet.”

He watched her and she hurriedly pulled a blanket over herself. “It's so fast,” she hedged.
Even her mother had known her father seven months before they got married. Oh, no.
“Don't you need to think about it a little more?”

“I know,” he said, in that quiet, serious voice. “Sometimes I think I knew when I first met you. You challenge me. You make me happy.” He got under the blanket as well, nuzzling up against her.

She felt panic, sick and queasy, in her stomach. Her mind raced. She loved him, more than she thought she'd ever love anything. But marriage was something else. If anything could turn love to hate, it was that. “I love you, too,” she said, firmly. “You know I feel the same.”

“Then you'll marry me?” His voice was confident, but she sensed the underlying tension.

“I didn't say that.”

She felt all his muscles tense, and he turned her to face him, his blue eyes cold. “So you're saying no?”

“I didn't say that, either,” she said, hating that pain, the beginnings of his anger. “I'm just saying it's terribly fast. You know how I am, Josh…what I am. You know I need time to think.”

“How much time?” he asked, and she took a relieved breath as she felt a possible reprieve in her grasp.

“I would think about…five weeks,” she said. Then took another deep breath to steady herself. “When I get back from Italy, in fact. I can tell you then.”

The silence hit her like a fist. He stared at her, and
she could see the vein pulsing in his neck. “Italy. You never cancelled the tickets.”

“Why would I, Josh?” She tried to ask it as gently as possible, but the assumption gnawed at her.
He'll understand, he'll understand…

“Because you're going to spend a month away from me, on another continent, and again, you hadn't mentioned any plans that you were going,” he said, and his voice was edged in frost. “A separate vacation for that long a time period, without even discussing it with me, your boyfriend, the guy who wants to marry you. A month with your friend…”

“Bethany,” she said. “My very best friend from college. Practically family. And I'd still been thinking about it…” She realized she was pleading, and clamped her mouth shut.

“For a month.” He said, leaning back. He closed his eyes.

For a brief, painful moment, she felt like taking it back—taking it all back, saying she loved him, she'd cancel the ticket, she'd marry him. Anything to wipe that pain from his face.

Please, please understand!

“Fine.” He sighed. “It'll be a little problematic, but I'll go with you.”

She blinked. “No,” she said, then winced as his eyes opened and his gaze pinned her like a bug. “Why not?”

“Because this is for me,” she said, struggling miserably. “Because I need time. I need some space, to think this out.”

“You need
space.
” His voice was now frigid, and she
saw something had tipped the balance over…something had broken the camel's back. “I see.”

She feared he didn't. “Josh, let me try to explain.”

“Oh, you don't need to explain.” He rolled off the bed, gloriously naked, his muscles rippling dangerously. “I think I get the picture now.”

“Josh, please…”

“It's always been about you,” he said sharply. “I have tried to make you happy, Angela. I've tried to make you love me. I see that's where I made the most grievous mistake.”

“I do love you!”

“Do you?” His eyes blazed. He tugged his boxers back on with a vicious yank, then reached for his trousers. “You care for me, I'll give you that. But dammit, Angela, I've been doing all the work, making all the moves. Do you realize that tonight was the first time you've ever planned something for us? I thought I could work past that fear of commitment you've got going. Make you see that I wasn't going to hurt you, that you could trust yourself to love me. But you just keep dancing away. Then tonight, seducing me, just so I wouldn't be ticked off that you were leaving for another continent in a month, which you naturally neglected to mention until a week before departure.” He pulled on the trousers, cursing under his breath as one leg got fouled up in the process. “But I'm done. I'm sick of banging my head against a wall for a woman who cares about me deeply
but doesn't love me enough to stay with me.
I'm sick of being the one who does all the work.”

That hit, and hit hard. She felt her own temper flare as she got to her feet. “Of course you do all the work. You're the one calling all the shots, aren't you? You
make all the plans, and I'm the one who has to cancel mine. You're the one who has to be in control all of the time. Well, here's a news flash, Josh—you can't control love. And I'm not going to let you control me!”

He growled at her. “I do
not
try to control you!”

“Oh, you're subtle about it. You charm me, seduce me…love me. But I need to have my own space, Josh. I need to be my own person. If I lose that, then I'll lose all the qualities that you claim to love. I'll lose myself!”

“So you'll get to be your own person if I happily agree to let you romp around Europe for a month?” he spat out, and she almost hit him. Fury pulsed through her like lightning. “If you were half as invested in this relationship as I am, you'd understand why that isn't an option.”

“If you understand me half as well as you think you do,” she countered levelly, “you'd see why this is the only option I've got.”

They stood, squared off against each other, him in trousers, her in garters and stockings. Each with matching frowns of love turned hurtful.

“I thought I understood you,” Josh said, quietly, reaching for his shirt and pulling it on haphazardly. “Now, I realize you're not the woman I thought you were.”

He tugged on his suit, grabbed his briefcase. “Stay the weekend if you like. Do whatever you feel you have to. But if you get on that plane to go to Europe, I'll know your decision.”

“Why are you making this so hard on me?” she said around a sob, stepping between him and the door.

“You're making it hard on yourself,” he said, stepping
around her. He paused at the doorway. “I still love you. That's what hurts most of all.”

With that, he stepped out the door, leaving her in stockings and tears.

“J
OSH,
I'
M WORRIED
about you,” his father said, his thick silver eyebrows all but knitted together in their concern.

Josh toyed with the eggs his mother had placed in front of him on the kitchen table. “I'll be fine.”

“Really?”

Josh almost groaned when he saw the gleam of stubbornness in his father's eyes. Blue eyes, startlingly like his own. Everybody said so. “Really.”

“How often have you called the office, in the four days you've been down here?” his father asked casually.

Josh winced. “I trust Adam, Dad. It's not like I can keep my eye on every little thing.”

His father pointed at him with his fork. “Good grief. You're worse than I thought.”

“Dear, you might want to ease up on Josh,” his mother said, sitting down at the table and frowning. “And you don't want to work yourself up.”

“I just want to see the extent of the damage, here, Margaret,” he said firmly. “God. To think I liked that girl.”

“There's no reason why you shouldn't. She's a good woman.” Josh shrugged, underscoring the pain he felt. “She just didn't love me, that's all.” He took a swallow of coffee to wash down the lump of bitterness in his throat.

His father shook his head, baffled. “That's where you lose me. You weren't running around on her, were you? Yelling at her? Doing…I don't know.”

“Dad, you know me better than that.”

“Yes, I do. Which is why I can't understand how this happened.”

You'd have thought his father was the one this had happened to, Josh thought wryly. He bit into a strip of bacon. “It came as a surprise to me, too.”

“What in the world were her reasons?”

“Dad, do we have to go into this?”

His dad's jaw muscles clenched, making him look fierce. “When my only son comes to me, looking like he's gone fifteen rounds with Muhammad Ali, then yes, we have to go into this.”

Josh sighed. He'd already replayed the scene, hell, the whole six months he'd been with Angela, over and over. Wondering what he'd done, or what he hadn't done. Where he was lacking.

“All I know is, I spent six of the best months of my life with her. Well, six of the toughest, too,” he said, smiling a little as he remembered the uphill battle he'd undergone. “I did everything I could to make her happy. I swear, Dad…well, you know how you get when you're planning to take over a company?”

His father grinned wolfishly. “Boy, do I ever.”

“Well, that's what I was like. I planned it down to the last detail. I thought I had every base covered. In
fact, I thought we were on the exact same page. I asked her to marry me.” He pushed his plate away. “Then she yanked the rug out from under me.”

“What did she say?” his father pressed. “What reason did she give to say no?”

“That was just it,” Josh said, slowly. “She didn't even have the guts to say no. She just withdrew. Said she'd go to Italy for six weeks and think about it.” He closed his eyes. “Only I knew what she was really saying. It finally hit me. All this time—all this work. And all of it was on my side. I was always the one who initiated. I was the one who pushed for a relationship. I thought I was getting her to trust me, getting her to love me. And all I was doing was wasting my time.”

“Why do you say that?”

His mother's tone was sharp, and it surprised him. “Mom, how would you feel if you loved somebody, did everything you could think of to make them happy, make them want you—and all of a sudden, instead of rushing to be with you, they make a run for it? Does that say that someone's as invested in the relationship as you are?”

She finally looked up from her plate. To his surprise, her gray-green eyes blazed.

“So she never made any show of loving you?”

His mother rarely lost her temper—barely had one to begin with. Josh saw his father staring at her, equally mystified. “I'm not going to say Angela didn't care about me. I know she did. But she didn't love me.”

“I'm sorry, son,” his father rumbled, his voice filled with sympathy.

“So am I.” His mother stood up, her chair dragging
along the floor with a harsh shriek. “Sorry I had to hear this.”

She stalked off from the table.
Stalked.
His gentle, smiling mother walked out like a gambler who'd just lost a high-stakes poker match.

His father's jaw dropped. “Holy cow. What was
that
about?”

Josh rubbed his hands over his face. “Could you please tell me what I've done that suddenly makes me vile to women? Please? So I can stop doing it?”

“Beats the hell out of me.” His father started to stand. “I'd better go find out what's the matter…”

“No, Dad. Whatever she's mad at, it's something I said. I'll go see if I can fix it,” he said.

He walked through the house, looking for her. He finally found her in the attic office. “Mom?”

His mother was sitting at the small writing table that was set up by the window. She looked out into the sunlight, her back to him.

He walked up, shut the stairs behind him. “Mom, what is it?”

She didn't say anything, but pushed the window open a little further. He felt the cool breeze on his face, like a whisper.

He was always closer to his father, granted, but his mother had always been comforting—had always supported him, been on the bleachers cheering while his father had been on the sidelines, coaching. To have her be like this, act like this, was a one-two punch following Angela's refusal.

“Come on, Mom,” he said, using the charming voice he often employed when he was younger, trying to stay up past bedtime. He thought it would cheer her, make
her start talking. “How am I supposed to fix it if you won't tell me what's…”

“Don't game me, Josh.” Her voice was cold, and he stopped. “I'm your mother. Don't you dare try to con me.”

He blinked. Then his anger stepped to the fore. “All right. What is this?”

She turned to him. Her cheeks were wet, and it hit him like a fist in the gut. “Mom?”

“I thought I'd raised you better than this.”

His world had spun out of control when Angela didn't say yes to his marriage proposal. With that perspective, he supposed this attack shouldn't have surprised him. Still, he was stunned. “Mom, what did I do?”

“It sounds like you did everything, from what you've told me,” she said, her words mocking his. “You charmed her. You planned things for her. You did everything in your power to show her why she should be with you.”

“Is that what made you angry? That I was trying too hard?”

“No,” she said, with an exasperated tone. “I'm angry because you didn't do the one thing she needed. You didn't ask her what
she
wanted.”

He bristled at this. “Mom, you're off base here. She wasn't exactly forthcoming. I did everything I could to find out what she liked, what she dreamed about…”

“Just so you could use it, Josh,” she said strongly, her eyes rimming with tears again. “Don't you hear what you're saying?”

He stopped.

“Josh, I've known you all your life,” she said, with a small smile that reminded him more of the mother he knew, and he calmed fractionally. “I've seen you admire
your father, with his determination, his drive, and his ability to plan or charm his way into just about anything. Goodness knows, I found him hard to resist.”

“Mom, what are you saying?”

She looked at the attic stairs almost furtively. “I love your father. More than I've ever loved anyone. But sometimes, I've resented the hell out of him.”

“What?”

“I didn't hate him,” she said quickly, frowning at him. “I'm not saying that. But he did what you're doing. He loved me because I stood up to him—he'll tell you stories, I know. But slowly, he wore me down.” She took a deep breath. “Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a writer?”

Josh sat down on the daybed, feeling stunned. “I remember you majored in English lit.”

“Your father needed help with his store. Then, as he got bigger, more successful, he needed my support. I loved him so much, it never occurred to me not to give him all my attention, all the time I could spare. Then you kids came along.”

“Mom,” Josh said, wounded.

She shook her head. “You were a joy to me. Don't ever think you weren't. But it was more time, and more attention. The writing just never seemed as important. So I let it go.”

She leaned back in her chair, her eyes going a misty, dreamy blue-green-gray. “I remember once, I was taking you and your sister shopping. I guess my car was broken down—we had to take the bus. We hadn't moved to Manzanita yet. We were still in—I think we were in San Francisco.” She smiled at the memory. “So there I was, trying to ride herd on you while I was lugging
your sister and a bag full of who knows what. And I remember looking up, and seeing a billboard of Sandra Rossi.”

Josh frowned. The name sounded familiar.

“She's a feminist author,” his mother explained. “I went to school with her. We used to sit around, drinking really cheap wine and talking about our careers. And there she was, doing what we'd dreamed about. And there I was.”

“With nothing.” Josh's voice was flat.

“Not with nothing!” she countered. “I'm not trying to tell you I made the wrong choice. I didn't. I made the best choice I knew, at the time.” She got up, walked over to the bed, sat next to him. “But I will say this—if I had to do it all over again, I would have saved a little more for myself, Josh. Not that I love you or your father or your sisters any less. But somewhere along the way, I lost a part of myself. A part I am just now, after all of these years, starting to get back. And that, I have regretted.”

“And you think I was trying to make Angela make that choice?” he asked, turning the scene over in his mind.

“No,” she said. “I think you were trying to give her no choice at all.”

 

A
NGELA SAT IN THE
airport terminal in San Francisco. In a few short minutes, she was going to get onto a plane that would take her over the North Pole, drop her off for a stopover in London, then take her to Milan. From there, she'd take a train to Florence.

From Florence, she'd go anywhere and everywhere.

She looked down at her carry-on.

Of course, she'd be going alone.

She tried to call Josh, leaving messages at Solar Bars and at home.

Josh, please pick up. We can't just leave it like this.

But that, apparently, was precisely what he wanted.

Tanya nudged her. “Hey. You okay?”

Angela nodded, then shrugged. “As okay as I'm going to be.”

“You'll be fine, believe me,” Ginny said staunchly. “He was being an asshole.”

“He was being scared,” Angela corrected, gently. “I can understand that. I've been there.”

Tanya smiled from the other side of her, giving her a little shoulder-hug. “We've all been there.”

Ginny stared at her, eyes narrowing. “You're not thinking of giving in, are you?”

Angela shook her head, feeling guilty. She'd considered it. As she packed her suitcases, she'd thought about it. Every time she left a message for Josh that never got returned, it nagged at her. And especially as she cried herself to sleep in her too-large and empty bed, she'd considered it.

What would I be giving up, really? Just a trip to Europe.

Just a trip. Right.
And the Superbowl is just a friendly football game.

She couldn't. For her own sake, and ultimately for Josh's sake, she couldn't. She'd resent him if she gave up her plans to see Europe for the first time, just because he couldn't see how much she loved him—and how much she needed this. What's more, she'd learn to hate herself.

“Maybe he'll change his mind,” Tanya said, her
voice sounding dubious but obviously trying to be encouraging.

Ginny snorted. “Oh, sure.”

“Ginny, you're not helping.”

“Like you are, with comments like that?”

“You're both helping,” Angela said, stopping their mini-squabble before it could get heated. “I really appreciate it. If I'd had to wait around here by myself, I don't know what I would have done.”

They both hugged her this time, and Angela let them, relishing the warmth.

“Now boarding, British Airways Flight 1506, San Francisco to London, out of Gate 9.”

Angela couldn't help it. She made one last sweeping glance over the airport lobby. She didn't know what she was expecting. Josh, standing there with an armful of flowers, saying he was sorry? Telling her to have a good trip?

She didn't see him. Didn't see anyone but travelers like herself.

She got up, got her bags with trembling hands. “Guess this is it.”

They hugged her again, maternally. “You have a good flight,” Tanya said. “And enjoy your trip.”

“Italian men, baby. They're like
Esquire
models with dark coloring. And if you don't go for that—the food, oh my word, the food.” Ginny sighed dramatically. “If that doesn't cheer you up, nothing will.”

“I love you guys,” Angela said quietly. “Thank you, so much.”

With a little wave, she made her way to the gate, watched as the man tore off her boarding pass and returned the rest of her ticket. She made her way down
the tunnel-like walkway that led to the plane. It felt like going through a pipeline.

This is it.

She was finally getting on with her life. She wasn't just reading about something—she was doing it. In a strange way, being with Josh had helped her gain that courage. If nothing else, she had him to thank for that.