Desperate Measures (12 page)

His hands spanned her waist and rounded to her buttocks, lifting her slightly from the bed. Tortuous, teasing explorations of his tongue made her shudder with heightened passion. Her fingers, greedy once again, clutched and pulled at his dark, ruffled hair as though begging him to stop, while her body arched into his, feverishly exposing herself to his maddening mouth. He searched for and found the secret places that pushed her to the brink of release, only to have his worshiping kiss follow another path before returning again to the first.

A yawning ache spread through Maddie, demanding satisfaction, settling at her core and forcing her to seek relief by writhing and thrashing about restlessly. Pete held her there, forcing her to him, adoring her with his hands and lips until she could deny herself no longer. Her body flamed, her back arched, and her world divided in two parts; her need and his lips. And when the tremors ceased and his mouth covered hers once again, she tasted herself there. She was satisfied, yet discontented; had feasted, yet was famished. There was more she wanted, much, much more. She wanted to share with him the release of his own passion, to participate in bringing him to that same wonder.

He urged her onward, assuring her he was ready. Grasping her hips, he lifted her and wound her parted thighs around him. She guided him into her, pulling him forward, driving him downward, knowing that same need within him, a desire of a different, cooler color than before. It was as though once having slaked his thirst, he could now enjoy the flavor. Moving with him, becoming part of him, Maddie fueled his passion and renewed her own. Together they were flung upward; together they found the sun, the moon, and the stars.

He wanted to sleep, needed it, craved it, but Maddie bounded off the bed. Naked, hands on hips, she said, “Move it, Sorenson, we have showers to take and food to prepare.”

Pete blinked. He didn't mean to say it because only a fool would utter something like this, but he did. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Better.” She blew him a kiss.

 

On their eighth date Pete said, “I'm in love with you. Will you marry me?”

They were in Central Park, jogging. Maddie stopped long enough to say, “I thought you'd never ask. Yes, yes, yes.”

At the end of the three-mile jog, Maddie fell into Pete's arms. “This has got to be the happiest day of my life.”

“Mine too,” Pete said gruffly.

“Are we going to have a real wedding, you know, church, gown, attendants, the whole thing? I don't think I can afford anything lavish, Pete. Simple will do it. Maybe a brunch or a breakfast. Will you be embarrassed if it's small? That doesn't mean it will be ... tacky, just small. Tasteful. God, I always wanted one of those bang-up weddings, you know the kind. Pictures, wonderful dinner, the church, gorgeous gowns. Exquisite flowers; orchids. In the church. Lots of balloons.” She made a face to show how far she'd come in her dream of a church wedding.

“Whatever you want, Maddie, and don't worry about the money. Do it up right. Spend whatever you have to. We're only going to do this once, so let's do it right. When do you want me to give you my guest list?”

Spend whatever it takes, she thought. Good Lord. She knew she could spend a fortune without even trying. Don't worry about the money, he said. Well, then she wouldn't worry. “Whenever you have it ready. I only have a dozen or so people to invite. How about you?”

“Twenty, tops. Annie, of course, is at the top of the list.”

“Uh-huh,” Maddie said.

“Uh-huh. What does uh-huh mean, Maddie?”

“It means,” Maddie said carefully, “that I think I'm jealous of Annie Gabriel. You talk about her all the time like she's some . . . some saint, some paragon of something or other.”

“Annie's not a saint, but she is very special. So special I couldn't even
think
about getting married unless she were there. When you meet her, you'll know what I'm talking about.” Pete decided that he was absolutely, positively, not going to dwell on Maddie's attitude toward Annie. She didn't know her. From the looks of things, she didn't want to get to know her either.

“Are you going to continue your friendship with Annie after we get married?”

“I hadn't thought much about it, Maddie. It's a forever kind of friendship, the kind you have with Janny. Is this going to be a problem?”

“I don't know, Pete, is it?”

“I think,” Pete said carefully, “it's only going to be a problem if you turn it into a problem.”

“If I told you I wanted you to curtail your friendship with Annie, would you? I'm not saying I would ever ask that of you, but would you?”

Instead of answering her, Pete asked a question of his own. “If I asked you to curtail your friendship with Janny, would you do it? I'm not saying I would ever ask that of you, but would you?”

“Yes, but with terrible misgivings. You?”

“No, Maddie. I guess this is going to be a problem.”

“It could be,” Maddie said thoughtfully. “I know it's fashionable for men to have women friends and vice versa, but part of me, the selfish part of me, wants you all to myself. You share too much with her. You should be sharing with me.”

“Maddie, I've known Annie for almost twelve years. I could never turn my back on her. She got me through law school. I owe her. Big-time.”

“When is she going to want to collect, Pete?”

“What do you mean?”

“There's always a payback. When is hers coming due?”

“That's silly, Maddie. Annie isn't like that. She's a kind, warm, generous, unselfish friend. In all the years I've known her, she's always put me first.”

“When people are in love, they do that.”

Pete sucked in his breath. Suddenly the sunny park, the wonderful moment, was dark and gloomy. “Then why aren't you doing that?” he said quietly.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Maddie asked with an edge in her voice.

“It means . . . Annie always says . . . if you love someone, their happiness comes first. I just happen to agree with the statement. You know my friendship with Annie is important to me. You should be willing to accept it. Instead, I suspect you're waiting for me to say I'll give up that friendship. I won't, Maddie.”

“Even if I say it's important to me?”

“It doesn't concern you. It would never occur to me to ask you to give up something that was established before I met you. I had a miserable childhood, Maddie. Friends are very important to me because I don't make them easily and when I do they're my friends for life.”

Maddie laughed, a trilling sound. The same kind of laughter he remembered when he'd told her about Barney. “I was just testing you, Mr. Sorenson. Of course I'd never ask you to give up a friendship. We're two of a kind, you and me. We know about friendships.” She smiled then and kissed him lightly on the lips. The smile didn't reach her eyes, though. Something rumbled throughout Pete's body. Gas, he thought in dismay. Three hot dogs would do that.

They walked back to Pete's apartment, licking ice cream cones on the way. The bad time was over, but not forgotten.

“I have an idea,” Maddie said. “Let's take a shower together. You soap me up, I'll soap you up.”

“And?” Pete teased.

“Then I'm going to lick you all over just the way I'm licking this ice cream cone.”

Pete grinned. “Promises, promises.”

“Oh yeah, race you the rest of the way.”

Nikes slapped at the hot pavement. They were in a dead heat when they careened around the corner to Pete's building. The doorman proclaimed them duel winners.

When they finally ran naked from the shower, they were like a raging brushfire, out of control. They were wild animals trapped in the heat and flames that only a bodily release could extinguish.

Afterward, Pete groaned, to Maddie's delight. She snuggled into the crook of his arm. “Pete, do you think our lovemaking will always be so wild and wonderful, even when we get older?” she whispered.

“Absolutely,” Pete said drowsily.

“Promise me,” she whispered again.

Pete's eyes snapped open. Everything with Maddie had to be a promise. “I promise.” He thought about Barney again and his promise.

“Okay.” A moment later she was asleep, her breathing little puffing sounds against his arm. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

Lovemaking was always like this, wild and intense. He wondered what it would be like to make slow, lazy love for hours at a time. Was it his fault, or was it Maddie's, or was it both their faults because they wanted instant gratification?

 

The sun was setting when they woke.

Pete swung his legs over the bed. They had a routine of sorts now, after months of togetherness. They always made love after a run or a jog, showered, and then he cooked a meal for the two of them. If they weren't too stuffed from Pete's culinary expertise, they either watched television or took in a movie, then made love again. It was almost a habit, or if not a habit, then a settled routine. And wasn't that the same thing? he often wondered.

He loved Maddie. He really did. It was so wonderful to belong to someone emotionally. He thought about Barney then because he always thought about Barney. Barney was part of the settled routine. He wanted to talk about him to Maddie, but he didn't want to hear that strange laughter again.

“So,” Maddie said from the bathroom doorway, “what gastronomical, culinary delight are you going to prepare for us this evening, Mr. Sorenson?”

He almost said shit on a shingle. What the hell was wrong with him? “How about my super-duper chili, which is so hot we have to keep the fire extinguisher on the table?” he said with forced cheerfulness.

“That sounds better than my ragout and noodles. After we're married, I'm going uptown and take a cooking course. It will have to be at night. I can't have you doing all the cooking. How will that look?”

“Like you don't know how to cook?” Pete said briskly as he headed for a second shower.

“I'll change the bed while you shower. I know how you like to sleep on crisp, clean sheets. This bed,” she chuckled, “looks like a bunch of chickens have been scratching around on it. Do you want me to chop the onions and peppers afterward?”

“After you take your shower.”

“That's what I meant, Pete. I love working with you in the kitchen. Everything is so homey and ... and I missed all that. Pete, is anything wrong? You seem kind of quiet. Is it that discussion we had about your friend?”

“My friend has a name, and yeah, it's still bothering me a bit.”

“Good, you're being honest. I like that. I swear, Pete, I will never stand in the way of your friendship. I detest jealousy, and yes, I'm jealous and it's obvious I have to work on that and I will. That's my promise to you.”

“That's good enough for me. I guarantee, you are going to love Annie. I wouldn't be surprised if you two become best friends. Wouldn't it be great if I could find Barney? God, my life would be perfect if that happened.”

“Life's funny, Pete. One of these days you might be walking down Madison Avenue and you'll bump into him. Stranger things have happened,” she said, giving the pillowcase a vicious yank. Feathers sailed upward. “You need to get foam rubber, Pete.”

“Take my Bloomingdale's charge and order some. Better yet, get them on your discount,” Pete called over his shoulder. Maddie stared after him a full minute before she pulled off the second pillowcase. Like I really have time to shop for pillows, she thought. Maybe she could get her assistant to order some. She would do whatever had to be done to put a smile on Pete's face. She buried her face in the pillow and muttered, “I hope he never finds that Barney. Annie what's-her-name is going to be hard enough to deal with. Add a Barney and it would be all downhill.” Selfish tears burned her eyes. She just wanted him to want and need her. She didn't need anyone else, so why did he?

“Your turn,” Pete called from the bathroom.

Maddie bundled up the bedding and carried it to the front hall.

Pete was already in the kitchen browning frozen meat when Maddie joined him. With weeks of long practice, she set about getting the chopping board, the wicked-looking knife to chop with, and the vegetables ready.

“I already washed the peppers,” Pete said. Maddie nodded. She just dumped the stuff in the refrigerator or tossed the whole plastic bag in the vegetable bin. This way when the stuff got rotten, she just tossed out the bag.

“Are we having dessert?”

“I have some frozen cake and frozen pie. It says ‘Belgian Apple' on the box. It looks like it has a lot of syrup and crushed nuts on the top. Cool Whip should make it go down real easy.”

“That's so sinful. Move over, I'll slide it in the oven.”

While they waited for the dinner to cook, Maddie sat in her nest of pillows on the floor, irritation rivering through her. Damn, Pete always made such a production of rummaging for the tape. It was the only one they ever watched, and it was right on top of the pile. Still, he had to make this . . . ritual. And it
was
a ritual, of finding the tape, leering at her, smacking his hands in glee that they were going to watch the stupid tape for the hundredth time, maybe it was the two hundredth time. She knew the dialogue by heart, knew the exact sequence of scenes. Who in their right mind watched
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
? She felt like screaming when Pete said, “Shall we watch the original or the remake?”