Authors: Dallas Schulze
As it turned out, she wielded the needle so carefully that he barely felt the four stitches she put in his arm. He watched her as she worked, her head bent over him, her attention on the job at hand.
"There. That should do it." She picked up a roll of gauze and began to wind it around his arm. "If you can just stay out of barroom brawls for a while and give it a chance to heal."
"I'll see what I can do." He lifted his free hand and tugged loose the pins holding her hair.
"Don't." But her protest came too late. His nimble fingers found the last pin and her hair tumbled onto her shoulders. She tried to ignore him, concentrating on taping the gauze bandage shut. But it was hard to ignore the way his fingers burrowed into her hair, finding the tense muscles at the back of her neck.
"You're too tense. You should relax more."
"Flynn..." She tried to back away but his hand tightened, pulling her closer. Seated on the wicker stool, his eyes were just level with hers, but she didn't want to meet his eyes. "Let me go."
"Look at me." He was so close that his breath stirred the hair that curled against her temples. Slowly, her eyes came up to meet his and she felt her knees weaken. It wasn't fair. How could his eyes be so blue, so full of need?
"Flynn..." He stilled her whispered protest with a quick kiss, stealing away her voice.
"Stay with me tonight."
"I can't. I..." He kissed her again and she forgot what she'd planned to say.
"Stay with me. I just want to hold you."
She started to shake her head but his mouth stopped the movement. The kiss was longer this time. His mouth molded hers, stealing not only her breath, but the ability to think.
"Please, Ann. I want you with me tonight."
"Flynn..." She wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten from the bathroom to the bedroom. Sometime during that drugging kiss, he must have eased her in here. She didn't remember walking but he certainly hadn't carried her. He kissed her again, his fingers untying the frilly apron.
"We can just sleep. I won't push you into anything more." He tugged the apron off and his attention moved to the buttons on her cotton shirt. For a man with full use of only one hand, he didn't seem to be having any trouble getting her clothes off.
Before Ann could marshall her thoughts, she was standing in front of him clad in a lacy camisole and tap pants, not quite sure how she'd come to be there. He reached around her to turn down the covers on the bed.
She hesitated, aware that this was a crossroads in some way that she couldn't quite define. Once in that bed, she would have taken a step toward... Toward what? She wasn't sure, but she knew it would change her life.
Flynn unsnapped his jeans and then waited. He could feel Ann's hesitation and he held his breath. He wouldn't pressure her but, if she walked away now, he felt as if something inside him would die. She looked up at him, her eyes bright green with questions he couldn't read, and then she turned and slid onto the bed.
He released his breath in a rush, unzipping his jeans and slipping them off. He left his briefs on as he climbed into bed beside her. He'd said that he just wanted to hold her and that was all he'd ask of her.
He reached out, pulling her close. Ann snuggled against his side, her small body seeming made to fit his, her head resting on his shoulder. Flynn reached up to shut out the light, plunging the room into darkness.
He rested his cheek against her hair, feeling complete for the first time in a very long time.
F
lynn came awake slowly, aware of feeling completely rested. He'd slept heavily but he didn't feel groggy. He didn't have to open his eyes to know the source of his contentment. Ann was snuggled against his side, one arm thrown over his chest, one leg nestled intimately across his thighs.
He kissed her forehead, brushing aside a bright curl to find the soft skin beneath. She stirred, tipping her head back. He didn't know if the invitation was deliberate or not, but he wasn't going to turn it down. He kissed his way down her face, planting soft kisses at the corners of her eyes, on the tip of her nose, on the delicate skin just under her jaw.
She stirred again and he knew she was awake. His lips teased the corners of her mouth and her lips parted, inviting him. His mouth settled over hers. It was a sleepy kiss, warm with passion that didn't need to be rushed.
Flynn's hand slid up her side, beneath the hem of her camisole, finding sleep-warmed skin that heated to his touch. Ann moaned against his mouth as his hand cupped her breast, testing its weight, finding the soft peak that hardened with the stroke of his thumb.
Still without speaking, Flynn shifted her until she lay on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest with only the thin silk between them, her thighs lying between his. He brought his knees up, cradling her.
His hands burrowed into the thickness of her hair, pulling her face to his. The sleepy passion took on an edge of urgency. The kiss was a little harder, a little more demanding, and Ann met him with demands of her own.
His hands tugged impatiently at the camisole and she lifted herself so that he could tug the garment over her head. His hands caught her around the rib cage, lifting her higher, sliding her up his body. He heard her pleasure as his mouth closed around her nipple, stroking the pale pink tip to hardness. He held her helpless, suspended in his hands while he took his pleasure of her. He took his time, painting each breast with tongue strokes, covering every inch of soft flesh, feeling her desire in his hands.
He lowered her slowly, reluctant to give up the tender territory he'd conquered but needing the taste of her mouth. The kiss was explosive, the impact of it rolling through both of them. Suddenly, all the patience was gone. His hands fought the silk tap pants, hearing the fine silk tear but not caring. All that mattered was that her skin be bare to his touch. He couldn't stand anything that kept him away from her.
She struggled with the stretchy fabric of his briefs, her breath leaving her in a frustrated sigh when her hands couldn't master the task. Flynn brushed her hands aside and suddenly there was nothing between them. He rolled, putting her beneath him. Her legs parted, cradling him. His mouth caught hers, his tongue plunged inside at the same moment that he sheathed his aching hardness in the damp warmth of her body.
Flynn swallowed the keening moan that left her throat. The emptiness was filled, but the hunger was still there. He moved, feeling her body shift to accommodate his, tasting the response she gave so willingly.
He wanted to drag the moment out forever. But the need was too strong, the hunger too long denied. Ann shivered beneath him, her body contracting around him, and Flynn groaned, following her to the culmination of their passionate love.
Not a word had been spoken, but they communicated as fully as was humanly possible.
❧
Rafferty woke suddenly, aware that he was no longer alone. He was lying on his stomach, his face near the edge of the bed. He opened his eyes to find Becky seated on the floor next to the bed. She was still in her pajamas. Clutched in her arms was the tattered brown giraffe he'd given her for her second birthday. Her eyes were wide and solemn on his face.
"Good morning." He blinked, clearing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. He rolled onto his back and pulled himself up until he could lean against the headboard. A glance at the clock told him it was barely six o'clock.
"You're up early. Did you have a bad dream?"
"No." She continued to stare at him and Rafferty's eyes narrowed, studying the intent expression on her face.
"What is it, Becky? Is something bothering you?"
"Are you my daddy?" The question was so totally unexpected that Rafferty had a moment of wondering if he was still asleep and dreaming this confrontation. But, looking at Becky's serious little face, he knew this was no dream.
"Would you like it if I was your daddy?"
She shrugged, her eyes dropping from his face. Her fingers twisted an ear on the battered stuffed toy. "I don't know. I guess it would be okay." She stopped but Rafferty didn't say anything. He knew there was more.
"If you're my daddy, how come you left me and Mama? How come you left us?"
He chose his words carefully, knowing that what he said now could affect their relationship for a very long time to come. "Your mother and I had an argument a long time ago. She thought I was very angry with her and she thought I was going to stay angry forever. So, she took you and she left."
"Were you mad?"
"I... was angry for a little while but I got over it. Your mother just didn't realize that I'd get over it. After she left, I looked for the two of you but I couldn't find you. I never stopped looking, Becky."
He waited a long time, hardly breathing. Had he said the right things? Was there something more he should have told her, some other way to say it?
"Did your mother ever talk about me?" It was taking a chance to ask the question, but he had to know what Maryanne had told her.
She shrugged without looking at him. "It always made her cry when I asked about you."
He closed his eyes, and for an instant, it was as if Maryanne was standing in front of him. She'd been such a sweet pretty girl. It wasn't her fault that she just hadn't known how to grow up. Yes, he could imagine that she'd cried when Becky asked about him. He'd never doubted that, in her own way, she'd loved him.
"We used to have a lot of fun together when you were little. You probably don't remember much of that."
Her eyes flickered up at him and then away. "I remember you used to throw me up in the air. And sometimes you'd tell me a bedtime story. Only you'd read it out of a book. You didn't make one up like Mr. Flynn does. Mama had a picture of you that she'd show me sometimes only your hair was all streaky. Not one color like it is now."
Rafferty ran his fingers through his iron-gray hair. "When your mother left, my hair hadn't gone completely gray yet. It runs in my family, you know. Your grandfather's hair was gray by the time he was thirty."
"Grandfather? Do I have a grandfather?"
"Sure. And a grandmother, too. And you've got two aunts and three cousins."
Her eyes widened at this bounty of relatives. "All those?"
"All those. That is, if you want me to be your dad."
She stared at him for a long time. "I think I'd like that."
Rafferty blinked, swallowing the hard knot in his throat. If his smile was shaky around the edges, he didn't think she'd care. He reached out one hand, careful not to expect too much too soon. Becky stood up and reached out to take his hand, her small fingers engulfed in his huge palm. She hesitated a moment, as if weighing him in some balance in her mind, and then she threw herself forward.
Rafferty's arms closed around her and he buried his face in her sandy hair. She smelled of soap and baby powder. His chest ached as her arms went around his neck.
He'd lost so much time with her. Three years gone never to be regained. He'd never lose sight of how lucky he was to have her back with him.
It was after nine when all the inhabitants of the penthouse met up. Rafferty and Becky were in the kitchen cooking pancakes when Ann and Flynn showed up. Rafferty had his own theories as to who had slept where the night before, which was why he hadn't let Becky wake Flynn to announce that she'd found her father. When Flynn wandered into the kitchen, Becky pounced on him.
"Guess what, Mr. Flynn. Guess what."
"It's too early to guess anything, urchin. Are you helping Rafferty cook breakfast?" He eyed the pancakes cautiously. Rafferty grinned and waved the spatula.
"Becky is only supervising this morning."
"That's nice. Now, what is it I'm supposed to guess?"
He sank into a chair, leaning his elbow on the kitchen table, his expression indulgent as Becky hopped up and down in front of him.
"Rafferty is my dad. My real live dad. He and Mama had a fight and she left but he never stopped looking for us. Isn't that neat?"
Flynn's smile was twisted as he reached out to ruffle her hair. There was a sharp pain in his chest as he looked at her. Just in the few weeks he'd known her, she'd grown so much. It hurt to think that he wouldn't be there to watch her grow and see her change.
"That's great, Becky. I'm really happy for you."
Rafferty flipped a pancake and then leaned one leg against the counter. "I've got reservations on a flight back to Denver late this afternoon."
"So soon?" The protest came from Ann who'd come to stand in the doorway. It was clear that she'd heard Becky's news. Her eyes shimmered with quick tears, and Flynn had to resist the urge to go to her and put his arms around her. It wasn't as if they-hadn't known that this moment was coming. It was just that it was difficult to let go now that the time had come.
Ann looked from Becky to Rafferty. He shook his head, his eyes understanding.
"I don't see any sense in dragging things out. Goodbyes are best said quickly."
"You're right, of course." Ann blinked, clearing her eyes. The smile she gave Becky shook around the edges but not enough for Becky to notice.
"I'm really excited for you, Becky. I know you're going to love living with your dad."
"Yeah. He says there's snow and everything." Clearly, the 'everything' wasn't nearly as interesting as the snow.
"Denver isn't that far away. You guys should come visit us this winter. We'll go to Aspen for the skiing/'
"Sure we will." Flynn looked at Ann, wondering if she'd noticed the way Rafferty automatically paired them. Wondering what she was thinking.