Under His Command (Six-Alarm Sexy) (5 page)

Dani smiled. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re friends, right?” Her heart swelling, Erica nodded. “Look, who said women have to be satisfied with missionary style? Sex is just one more way that we express ourselves. You do whatever brings you the most happiness. To hell with anyone who tells you different.”

“But what if that someone is your husband?”

“Jamie strikes me as a pretty tolerant guy. I think you’re reading more into this than is there. You said it yourself, he just wants you to be happy.” Dani pursed her lips. “I feel bad admitting this now, but the night of the quake I accused Jamie of walking on eggshells around you. He’s always too careful not to offend you, going so far as to deny himself what he wants. I think this is just one more example of that.”

Erica’s brain wanted to explode with the truth of what Dani was saying. She’d made so many mistakes with Jamie. “What should I do now?”

“Tell him what you want. Make him tell you what he wants. Put all your cards on the table and see where you both stand.”

After the quake, they’d talked about going on a honeymoon that was five years overdue. Maybe they could use that time away from everyone and everything to reconnect. She smiled at Dani. “With my luck, I’ll be standing on the opposite side of the room.”

Dani grinned back, a sparkle in her eyes. “Not unless he commands it.”

The slamming of the car door echoed in the quiet neighborhood. Jamie shouldered his duffle bag and hoped he hadn’t woken anyone up. Hoped Rickie would be sleeping so he could have a little downtime before heading to bed. His mouth watered at the thought of a cold beer and a half hour of TV.

The outside light illuminated the three cement steps and the porch. As well as the deep cracks that bisected the steps. Had they been there before the earthquake? Sighing, he mentally added the repair job to his already long to-do list. He really needed a vacation. Good thing he’d already spoken to the captain about it. As soon as they went back to their regular shifts, he could take a week off. And since he’d finished the last of the reports for the SoDo district building inspections, that should happen in a matter of days.

Careful not to make any noise, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, grimacing when it made a loud squeak. One more task for his to-do list; put WD-40 on the hinges. He stepped inside and shut the door, pausing for the first time since he’d moved back in to absorb the sights, sounds, and smells of the house he’d bought right after learning he was going to be a father, the house he hadn’t lived in for almost a year. It felt strangely familiar and foreign all at once.

Most of the family photos that had lined the staircase leading to the second floor had been replaced with pictures of Erica and Chloe. In the living room, his favorite chair, an old recliner he’d rescued when his parents had remodeled their house, was still there. But Erica had done some remodeling of her own. His chair, which had enjoyed a prime spot right in front of the TV, was now pushed up against the wall, squeezed into a corner. Worse, there wasn’t even a line-of-sight to the set.

His chest tightened a little when he noticed one of Chloe’s picture books and her Little Mermaid blanket lying on the seat, evidence that his daughter had missed him as much as he’d missed her.

Rickie had made other changes as well. Some subtle, others not so much. Most of the rooms had been repainted and she’d hung artsy prints, doing away with their vintage movie posters.

In the dining room, she’d gotten rid of the new china cabinet he’d given her on their third anniversary. In its place stood an antique Caldwell cabinet. For all he knew, it had been crafted by the first James Caldwell himself. Looking at the collection of fragile teacups and pots that filled the shelves, he felt like an overgrown, undereducated gorilla.

The house was cool and classy. Just like Rickie.
Christ
. The woman had erased him almost completely. At least she’d kept the bed. Then again, she’d admired it from that first night. His cock jumped at the memory, and he groaned.

“Jamie?”

Head shooting up, he spun around and tried to pretend he hadn’t just been imagining her naked.

Erica stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a dishtowel in her hands, a smile absent from her pretty face. “I didn’t expect you home tonight,” she said, her tone cautious. Distant.

Fire raced through him, galvanizing his veins. Was she with someone? “Am I interrupting something?”

Erica scowled and bunched the towel in her hands. “You can be such a jerk.”

Before he could reply, she showed him her back and marched to the sink. Her movements were stiff and jerky as she finished drying a pot and placed it in a lower cabinet. After shutting the door with a bang, she threw the towel on the counter and leaned against it, hanging her head.

The sight of her, so upset, sent guilt slithering over his skin like dirty oil. He went to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She sighed and turned to face him. “No. It’s good that you asked. It’s bad that you think I would cheat on you.” When he opened his mouth to deny it, she put her finger on his lips. “And just for the record, since meeting you, I haven’t slept with another man. Heck, I haven’t even kissed anyone else.”

Thank God. Every day of the year they’d been apart, he’d worried that she’d find someone else, someone better.

Removing her finger, she cocked her brow. “Can you say the same?”

The loaded question boomeranged him right back into the guilt-zone. They’d never discussed what either of them had done during the month between when they’d met and when she’d shown up on his doorstep, pregnant. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and tightened his jaw. “No. I can’t.”

Her eyes filled with hurt. “I suspected as much. But I really hoped I was wrong. Who was it? Oh!” Her eyes flashed and her hand flew to her chest. “I really shouldn’t assume it was in the past.”

What was she talking about? “I swear to God, Rickie. I’ve
never
cheated on you.”

The tension lines in her forehead eased, and he was able to breathe again. “What did you mean, then?” she asked.

“After you left that first time, I tried to track you down, to see if you might be interested in more. But only knowing you as Rickie, and not knowing your last name, I didn’t get far. When I couldn’t find you… I went on with my life. Then you came back, and since then, there’s been no one else.”

“I can live with that,” she said, and her smile filled his chest with warmth.

He ran his fingers through her hair, stopping to caress the curve of her ear. “Me too.” Tonight, God had given him what he’d needed by making him talk with Rickie and not what he’d wanted by letting him escape with TV and a beer. And he couldn’t be more grateful. He leaned in to give Rickie a kiss. With Hollywood’s advice in mind, maybe he could make up for their disastrous reunion night.

Before his lips touched hers, she pushed against his chest with both hands. “Jamie. We need to talk.”

Stepping away from her, he raked his fingers over his scalp, trying to massage away his problems. He let out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t we just do that?”

She gripped the countertop on either side of her hips and her gaze hardened. That particular expression had always meant Erica was digging her heels in. She was going to rip him a new one. “We managed to iron out one issue from five years ago. You really think that all our problems are solved now?”

At this rate, he’d die of old age before they got to their current problems. Jamie crossed his arms and widened his stance to keep from crumbling under the weight of her disappointment. It sapped his energy like running up forty flights of stairs in full gear. “I’m too fucking tired to rehash our entire lives tonight.”

Just the thought of facing off with her made him feel sick. He swung open the fridge and reached for his long overdue beer. When his hand closed on air, he leaned in to look. Shit. That’s all he’d wanted tonight: one goddamn beer. He shut the door to check the magnetic notepad they’d always used to make the grocery list. Sure enough; the top sheet was gone. “Where’s the Redhook? I know I put it on the list.”

“Oh. It’s in the garage.”

She’d left his beer in the heat? “Why on earth would you put it there?”

Her expression fell and she smoothed imaginary wrinkles on her blouse. “I… I didn’t like how it cluttered up the shelf.” When she wrapped a strand of hair around her ear, the one he’d been caressing mere minutes ago, he saw her fingers tremble. “I know. That sounds incredibly selfish. Here, let me get the box.”

Before she could leave, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Don’t bother. Warm beer tastes like piss.”

She yanked her arm out of his hold. “I said I was sorry.”

Actually, she hadn’t. But making her feel bad wasn’t what he wanted. “Listen. That didn’t come out right. I’m dead on my feet, and I’m acting like a Neanderthal. How about we get a second fridge and put it in the garage? That way, all the bottles and extra stuff can stay there.”

“We don’t have to do that,” she said, hugging her waist. “I’m just being a baby.”

Maybe a bit of a perfectionist, but it was one of the things he liked about her. It balanced his complete lack of order. “I love that you alphabetize the cans and shelve things in the fridge by height.”

The prettiest shade of pink tinted her cheeks. “You’re teasing me.”

He ran the back of his hand along her jaw. “Maybe a little.”

“Can I get you something else?” she asked with a smile. “You probably want to relax in front of the TV for a bit before bed.”

“What do we have?”

“Coffee, tea, hot chocolate, white wine, red wine.” She hesitated in her enumeration when he grimaced. “Uh… I think we still have some of that root beer you used to like. Although I don’t know what’s the shelf life on that.”

“It’ll be fine with some ice.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked, opening the fridge. “I could make you a sandwich.”

Was it bad that he was enjoying having Rickie serve him? It felt wrong and so damn right at the same time. “That would be nice. Real nice.”

She shooed him toward the living room. “Go settle in while I get this ready.”

“No hurry,” he said, walking back through the dining room to the attached living room. Dropping onto the couch, he set his feet on the coffee table. The chrome edges dug into his calves, so he tucked a cushion under them. Much better. He palmed the remote, then sat back. Not good. His neck arched over the top of the couch and his head rested on the hard wall. He groaned and looked longingly at his recliner, which at the moment, seemed like a symbol of his manhood: out-of-place and relegated to a distant corner.

The night of the earthquake, he’d told Rickie things would have to change if they got back together. He knew one of those things was him. As Dani had so artfully put it, he needed to man-up. If he continued to bottle up his wants and needs, and let Rickie control everything, they’d be right back where they’d started.

In a flash, he was on his feet. He pushed the love seat that had taken the place of his recliner over to the far wall, opposite the couch. Then he carefully set Chloe’s book and blanket on the coffee table and picked up his chair, setting it back in its rightful place—dead center on the flat screen.

With a satisfied sigh, he grabbed the remote off the couch and stretched out in the recliner, even raising the footrest. After punching in the channel numbers for ESPN, he put his hands behind his head and moaned with unadulterated pleasure. He was so fucking happy to be home. To be in his chair, watching his television.

A few minutes later, Rickie appeared beside him, tray in hand. Her head turned as she scanned the room, obviously none too pleased with the changes he’d made. He cleared his throat. “I rearranged the furniture a bit.”

“I can see that.”

“Does it bother you?” It pissed him off to even ask, but if this marriage was going to get a fair shake, he and Rickie needed to start communicating.

She surveyed the room before meeting his gaze. “I like that you put your chair back. This is where it belongs. Where
you
belong.”

“But…?” She hadn’t said the word, but he knew it was hiding there, like the missing piece of a puzzle that changed everything.

She pointed to the loveseat. “I don’t like the loveseat there.” Turning, she indicated the front wall with the large bay window. “Maybe we could try it over here?”

His relief left him feeling like a wuss. So to prove his manliness, if only to himself, he jumped to his feet and in a matter of seconds, he’d moved the loveseat. Together, they stood back to admire their efforts. In the silence, his heart began to race. When she finally said, “I like it,” he gripped her around the waist and pulled her down onto the recliner with him.

She laughed and the sweet sound of it started to fill the emptiness that had plagued him for the past year. He tightened his hold on her waist and smoothed his hand up the outside of her leg. “Now that we’re done decorating, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”

“I thought you said you were too tired.” She gave him a freezing look.