Yanecia - Nora Roberts- Garden Trilogy - Red lily Страница 13

“Nothing.” Blinking, Hayley looked to Stella for support and got a smile and a shrug. “Nothing’s wrong with him.”

“So you’re attracted to him, nothing’s wrong with you, but you’ve dumped him before things really got started. Why is that?”

“Well, because he’s . . .”

“Mine?” Roz finished. “Then what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing!” At her wit’s end, Hayley spread a hand over her face. “I can’t even believe how embarrassing this is.”

“I expect you and Harper to work this out, and to leave me entirely out of the equation. I will make one observation, as his mother. If he knew you were showing him the door in order to protect him from possible future harm, he’d turn right back around and kick that door in. And I’d applaud the action.”

“You won’t tell him.”

“It’s not my place to tell him. It’s yours.” She pushed to her feet. “Now I’m going downstairs, and I’ll discuss this with Mitch over our dinner. Meanwhile, I think you have another hour coming—for sulking time. After that, I expect you to straighten up.”

Stella gestured with her glass as Roz walked out, then took a slow, satisfying sip. “She’s just frigging terrific, isn’t she?”

“You weren’t a lot of help,” Hayley complained.

“Actually, I was. I agreed with everything she said there at the end, but I didn’t mention it. Seems to me, keeping my mouth shut was helpful. Hey, you’re doing really well with this sulking hour,” she added. “And you’re only a couple minutes into it.”

“Maybe you should shut up again.”

“I love you, Hayley.”

“Oh, shit.”

“And I’m worried about you. We all are. So we’re going to figure this out. Go team and all that. In the meantime you’ve got to decide what’s best for you in regards to Harper. You can’t let Amelia drive the train.”

“It’s tough when she’s already highjacked it and put on the engineer’s hat. She was inside me, Stella. Somehow.”

Stella got up, moved to the couch to sit beside Hayley, to drape her arm over her friend’s shoulders.

“I am seriously freaked,” Hayley whispered.

“Me, too.”

SHE FELT LIKE she was tiptoeing on eggshells. Only the eggshells were sharp as razor blades. She questioned everything she did or thought or said.

It all seemed like her, she decided as she undressed for bed. She’d tasted the pasta salad, the garden-fresh tomatoes at dinner. It was her head that had throbbed with a tension headache, and her hands that had tucked Lily into the crib.

But just how long could she go on being so hyper-aware of every single action, every breath she took without going a little loopy herself?

There were things she could do, and she was going to start doing them the next day. The first order of business was to weigh down her credit card with the purchase of a laptop. The Internet was probably full of information on possession.

That’s what they’d call what had happened to her. Possession.

What she knew about it came out of books, novels mostly. To think she’d enjoyed having her spine tingled with those kind of stories once. Maybe she could take some of the things she’d read and apply it to her situation. Though the one that came first to her mind was Stephen King’s Christine. She was a woman not a classic car, and come to think of it, the solution of smashing the car to bits didn’t seem very practical. Besides, it hadn’t really worked anyway.

There was The Exorcist, but she wasn’t Catholic—and that dealt with demons. Still, she’d be willing to try a priest if things got any worse. In fact, the minute her head spun a three-sixty, she was heading for the nearest church.

She was probably overreacting, she decided, and slipped on a tank and cotton shorts. Just because it happened once didn’t mean it would happen again. Especially now that she was aware. She could stop it from happening, probably. Willpower, strength of self.

She needed to do more yoga. Who knew that yoga wasn’t the cure for possession?

No, what she was going to do was get some air. The thunderstorm she’d wanted was just starting to lash. The wind was up, and shimmers of lightning were buzzing light against the windows. She’d throw open the terrace doors, let the wind pour in. Then she’d read something light, a nice romantic comedy, and turn her head off for sleep.

She walked to the doors, gave them a big, dramatic yank.

And screamed.

“Jesus! Jesus!” Harper grabbed her before she could let out the next peal. “I’m not an ax murderer. Chill.”

“Chill? Chill? You’re skulking around, scare my hair white, and I’m supposed to chill?”

“I wasn’t skulking. I was just about to knock when you opened the doors. I think you may have cracked my eardrum.”

“I hope I did. What are you doing out there? It’s just about to storm.”

“A couple of things. The first was I saw your light and wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well, I was before you gave me a damn heart attack.”

“Good.” His gaze drifted down, up again. “Nice outfit.”

“Oh stop.” Annoyed, she folded her arms over her chest. “It’s no less than I might wear running around the yard with the kids.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed you running around the yard. The second is I was thinking about what happened this afternoon.”

“Harper, I haven’t been able to think about anything else for hours.” Weary of it, she pushed a hand through her hair, then pressed it to her temple. “I just don’t think I can think about it any more tonight.”

“You don’t have to, you just have to answer a question.” When he started to step inside, she gave him a good, solid shove back.

“I didn’t ask you in. And I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be in here when I’m not really dressed.”

His eyebrows lifted as he leaned comfortably on the doorjamb. Like he owned the place, she thought. Which, of course, he did.

“Let me point out that you’ve been here for about a year and a half. During that time I’ve somehow managed to restrain myself from jumping you. I think I can continue that policy for another few minutes.”

“You’re feeling pretty snarky, aren’t you?”

“I’d say what I’m feeling is pissed off. Especially if you’re going to be a drama queen and insist we have this conversation with me standing out here and you standing in there.”

The first fat drops began to fall, and he lifted his eyebrows again. Exactly the way his mother did.

“Oh, all right, come in then. No point in you standing out there getting soaked like an idiot.”

“Gee, thanks so much.”

“And leave those doors open.” She jabbed a finger at them because the gesture made her feel more in charge. “Because you’re not staying.”

“Fine.” The wind whipped in through them, chased by a charge of thunder. And he stood, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of ratty jeans, his hip cocked.

She wondered, even through the irritation, why she didn’t drool.

“You know,” he began, “after I more or less—mostly less—calmed down about everything, replayed it in my head some, the way you do, something interesting occurred to me.”

“You going to make a speech or ask your question?”

He inclined his head, an action that managed to look regal despite the jeans, T-shirt, and bare feet. “You’ve done a lot of swiping at me since you came here. I’ve tolerated it pretty well, for certain reasons. I’m about done with that now. But to get back to my point. The interesting thing that occurred to me was timing. Here’s how it plays for me. You come over, make your move, I make one back. We have a moment, a couple of them. You want to take it slow, I get that. Then the next time we’re together, you’re all about now you’re not really interested after all, it was just an impulse, no big, and let’s just be pals.”

“That’s right. And if your question is have I changed my mind—”

“It’s not. Between those two interludes, I get a visit from our resident crazy, who happens to decide to trash my place. My kitchen to be exact, the scene of interlude one. So my question is, how much did that event play into your role in interlude two?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well now you’re just lying, straight to my face.”

Her expression went to pitiful. She could actually feel it move across her face and settle in. “I wish you’d go away, Harper. I’m tired, and I have a headache. It hasn’t been the easiest day for me.”

“You pulled back because you figured she didn’t like us together. Enough that she fired what we could call a warning shot.”

“I pulled back because I pulled back. And that should be enough.”

“It would be, would have to be, if that were true. If that was all. I’m not going to push myself on you, on any woman who doesn’t want me. I’ve got too much pride for that, and I was raised better.”

He straightened, took another step toward her. “And those are the exact same reasons I don’t walk away from a fight anymore than I let somebody stand in front of me if there’s trouble.”

He angled his head again, rocked on his heels. “So don’t even think about getting in my way on this, Hayley, about stepping aside from something to protect me from her.”

She cupped her elbows. “You say you won’t push, but I feel pushed, so—”

“I’ve wanted you since the first minute I saw you.”

Her arms went limp, simply fell to her sides. “You have not.”

“The first moment—it was like being blasted with light. Went straight through me.” With his eyes on hers, he tapped a fist on his chest. “I think I stuttered. I could hardly speak.”

“Oh God.” She pressed a hand to her heart, hoping that would hold it in place. “That’s a lousy thing to say to me.”

“Maybe.” His lips twitched, his eyes warmed. “I’ll just follow it up with some lousy behavior then.” He reached out, drew her against him.

“Harper, this really isn’t something we should—” It was some move, or so she would think when she could think again. With a subtle shift, a tiny bump, they were fitted together. Angle to angle, line to line so that every inch of her body felt the jolt.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Uh-oh.”

A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth, then that mouth was on hers. Hot and warm and sweet, like liquid sugar. The kiss was a slow, irresistible seduction, a drugging of the senses, as his hands cruised over her, a light and lazy touch. A touch, she thought mistily, of a man confident enough to take his time—sure enough that he had plenty of it.

And his lips rubbed silkily over hers until she’d have sworn she felt her own shimmer.

It was like being gradually, skillfully, thoroughly melted, body and will, heart and mind, until what choice was there really, but surrender?

She moaned for him, that soft, helplessly pleasured sound. And she yielded, degree by erotic degree, until the fingers that had gripped his shoulders went lax.

When he eased back, her eyes were blurred, her lips parted.

“Hayley?”

“Mmm.”

“That’s not the response of a woman who isn’t interested.”

She managed to get her hand on his shoulder again, but it wasn’t much of a push. “That wasn’t really fair.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . that mouth.” She couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping down to it. “You should need a license to kiss that way.”

“Who says I haven’t got one?”

“Well, in that case. Do it again, would you?”

“Was planning on it.”

It was the same rush with the wind spewing in through the door, and his mouth lighting small, sparkling fires inside her. Little tongues of heat, she thought, that were going to lick their way through her until she simply dissolved.

“Harper.” She said it with the kiss, shuddering at the sensation of their lips moving together.

“Hmm?”

“We really have to stop this.” She couldn’t resist nipping that sexy bottom lip of his, just a little. “Sometime.”

“Later is good. Let’s say next week.”

She had to laugh, but it came out shaky, then ended on a gasp as his mouth slid from hers to find some magic point just under her ear.

“That’s good, that’s . . . exceptional. But I really think we need to wait, just a . . . Oh.” She let her head fall back as his cruising mouth found yet another magical spot. “That’s so . . .”

She turned her head to give him better access, and her heavy eyes blinked clear. Widened. “Harper.”

When she jerked in his arms, he just shifted his grip. “What? It’s not next week yet.”

“Harper. Oh God, stop. Look.”

Amelia stood in the doorway, the storm raging at her back. Behind her, through her, Hayley could see trees whipping in the wind and the bruised fists of clouds that smothered the sky.

Her hair was matted and wild, her white gown streaked with mud that dripped, it seemed to drip, into a filthy pool over her bare and bloodied feet. She carried a long, curved blade in one hand, a rope in the other. And her face was a mask of bitter rage.

“You see her, don’t you? You see her.” Hayley shuddered now from fear and cold.

“Yeah, I see her.” In one easy move, he changed his stance so Hayley was behind him. “You’re going to have to get over it,” he said to Amelia. “You’re dead. We’re not.”

The force of the blow lifted him off his feet, shot him back five feet to slam against the wall. He tasted blood in his mouth even as he shoved clear again.

“Stop! Stop!” Hayley shouted. Force of will and fear had her pushing against the freezing wind toward Harper. “He’s your great-great-grandbaby. He comes out of you. You sang to him when he was a boy. You can’t hurt him now.”

She started forward, with no clear idea what she would do if she reached Amelia. Before Harper could yank her back, a gust of wind knocked her off her feet and sent her sprawling. She thought she heard someone scream, in rage or grief. Then there was nothing but the sound of the storm.

“Are you crazy?” Harper dropped down beside her to prop her up.

“No, are you? You’re the one whose mouth’s bleeding.”

He swiped the side of his hand over it. “You hurt?”

“No. She’s gone. At least she’s gone. Christ, Harper, she had a knife.”

“Sickle. And yeah, that’s a new one.”

“It can’t be real, right? I mean, she’s not corporeal, so the rest of it isn’t real either. She couldn’t slice us up with it. You think?”

“No.” But he wondered if she could make you imagine you were cut, or do yourself some kind of harm defending yourself.

She stayed on the floor, getting her breath back, leaning on him as she stared through the open doors. “When I first came here, when I was pregnant, she’d come to my room sometimes. It was a little spooky, sure, but there was something comforting, too. The way it seemed she was just looking in on me, seeing if I was okay. And this sense I got, this wistfulness, from her. And now she’s—”