AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Twenty-Six
What’s Up, Doc?
“A
HOY,MEHEARTY,”MARYshouted. “Here I come!”She launched herself gleefully toward her living room couch and the man stretched out on it.
Van caught her effortlessly, breaking her fall, savingthemorevulnerableportionsofhisanatomy,and rolling to tuck her half under him and all against him, exactly where she wanted to be, gliding effortlessly from laughter to warm and wonderful. Practice was making him good at this. She snuggled closer, feeling, as always, as though she fit against him, from head to toe.
She’d been right to reach out for him in greed rather than withdraw in fear. The second alternative was unthinkable — to have never known this joy, to wonder for the rest of her life what this would have beenlike.Whenitwasover,whenshehadtopaythe price in pain, so be it.
She had all the chemistry and hormones she’d ever dreamed of, the frissonwhen he walked into the room; the ultra-awareness, as though every skin celltingledforhim,whenhewasalreadythereather side. And when it was the bedroom he walked into or was already in … She had only one word for that: wow.
Shehadn’texpectedtofallinlikeaswellasinlove, and that was scary. Make that scarier. The whole glorious thing was terrifying. Still, the trust between them deepened steadily, and that helped the joy of today blot out any preview of tomorrow.
Mary had thought the rapture of Van would wear off, or at least diminish, when he sat at her kitchen table for coffee every morning and called every afternoon for inane conversations that enthralled her endlesslyonhowhisdaywasgoing,andherdaywas going.
They did have problems, like endless trips to buy new coffee mugs. Coffee kept becoming the last thingontheirminds,andthemugsseemedtocollect on the kitchen table. The table kept being pressed into service for things far beyond its usual job description, and there went another batch of mugs, shattering and splattering on the floor. Mary knew neither her kitchen table nor any other conveniently flat surface in her kitchen would ever look quite the same to her.
And the afternoon phone calls? They might start banal, but they usually ended up hot enough to fry the circuits in their phones. “Just a minute,” Van would say. “I’m closing and locking the door to my office and shutting the blinds. Now I can tell you I can’t wait to get home tonight. Let’s have some phone sex to tide us over.”
They often celebrated his arrival home by unwinding with a glass of wine on the thick carpet in front of the fireplace. Sometimes they were still there, hot, sweaty, and smiling, with limbs a-tangled, when it was time for bed. Perhaps even for sleeping. For a little while. Maybe.
Most of all, though, she found a quiet wonder that deepened every day.
How do I like thee? Let me count the ways. She’d never met anyone who was more fun to argue with. No one made going for a walk more special.
She admired him more with every minute she spent with him or researching him for her book. The potential investor in Van Deventer Ventures was still being difficult, and her book hung on the negotiations. She forged ahead anyway. Van could do anything, and would, sooner or later. She didn’t worry about it.
She was too busy noticing other things, more important things. When she cooked, he did the dishes, and vice versa. Without even being asked. Perhaps that wasn’t unusual for the run-of-the-mill male of the species these days. How many zillionaires,though,understandthebasicconceptthatrare steaks do not leap onto clean Royal Doulton dinner plates without human intervention?
Van still swore he didn’t have a dog, wouldn’t haveadog,butGuinevereandLancelotwereusually curled at his feet, and he looked bereft when they weren’t. The history listing on Mary’s computer was now full of his visits to every website ever created on the care and feeding of pregnant dogs and the birthing of baby dogs.
Then there was snuggling. Ahh, the snuggling.
Too bad she had to mar this particular nestling interlude by talking. “Van?” she murmured against his chest, rubbing her nose against him and inhaling the earthy Van scent as a reward for doing what had to be done. “Do you want the good news first, or the other?”
“I’m going to fool you.” He chuckled, brushing his lips against her forehead and idly stroking her hair. “I want the good news first.”
“That is a surprise. You’re usually blind to even the possibility of good news until you have the other taken care of. I guess that’s how you got to be a tycoon. Well, the good news is we have a couple of hours to do anything we want.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” He sought her mouth, then the curve of her ear.
She quivered. She’d have to keep him away from her earlobe or she would forget she was capable of speech.
“Can I pass on hearing the bad news?”
“Whoa-oa-oa,” she said, “an alien has zapped down from space and taken over my man’s body!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be my usual bring-on-the-bad-news self. What’s the other news?” As soon as she answered, his lips promised, they’d move on to even more interesting places.
“Later on tonight, we’ll be busy with Guinevere.”
“Why would we be busy with Guinevere?”
“Her temperature has dropped. By about two degrees.”
“That’s interesting, I guess.” Van sounded a lot more interested in nibbling the hollow of Mary’s neck.
