Part 15 (1/2)

Now. You and I will have a nice, long talk after we get there.”

Emma folded her arms under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”I gave Palmer a note to give to you.”

”So?”

”Did you get that note?”

”Yes, I got that note.”

”Did you read that note?”

”Yes, Emma, I did.”

”Well. Then you know very well that I'm not leavin' this house. I am the one who gets to make the choice about where we live. And I have decided that we will live here.”

He kept that burning gaze right on her and he started walking toward her.

”Wait,” she said. ”Stop. Just you stop right there.” He kept on coming. She told herself to stand firm, but her legs seemed to move of their own accord.

She gave ground backing toward the kitchen, under the arch, across her red-tiled floor. He kept pace with her. It worked out fine until she ran out of floor and into her refrigerator, which was thick with magnets in various animal shapes. She b.u.mped a couple of them. They clattered to the floor.

She glanced down at the magnets a chicken and a Scottie dog then back up at him. ”Jonas...”

Very carefully, sliding magnets out of his way to do it, he laid one big hand on either side of her head.

She knew what to do, and she did it fast, too, bending her knees, bolting under his restraining arm.

But he was faster. He blocked her escape by lowering that arm and extending his opposite knee until it met the refrigerator. More magnets fell.

With great dignity, Emma straightened her legs again. ”This is what happens when you're big and strong and rich, huh? You think it's your G.o.d-given right to push people around.”

”I am just trying to get your attention.”

”Well, guess what? You got it.”

”Good.”

”What happens now?”

”Now, you listen.”

”Okay, fine. I am listenin'.”

”Are you sure?”

She decided that question didn't deserve an answer. She waited, thinking that he was way too close, too big, too warm, too ... everything. She wished he would back off.

And at the same time, she wished he would press himself against her, just grind himself right into her, let the magnets fall where they may.

Oh, Deirdre was right. For a self-starting independent take-charge woman, she sure did a good impression of a s.e.x toy.

Finally, he spoke. ”We cannot live here. It is impossible.” He said each word slowly and softly, right into her face.

She dredged up a scoffing sound. ”Exaggerate a little, why don't you, Jonas? Of course, we can live here. There is a kitchen, three bedrooms, two bathrooms. A roof over our heads. Even a livin' room with a workin' fireplace and a twenty-seven-inch TV. It may not be Bel Air, but we can live here, I promise you that.”

”Why?”

”Why what?”

”Why the h.e.l.l are you doing this?”

”Because your house is too darn big and it's too easy for you to hide when you're there.”

That seemed to get to him. He dropped his imprisoning arms and stepped away from her.

She waited for him to say something. He didn't. She looked down at the magnets around her feet. Kneeling, she gathered them up, the chicken, the Scottie, two cats and a frog. The frog had been injured in the fall a crack right down the middle of its white belly.

”Emma.”

She didn't answer. Instead, she straightened, turned and stuck the magnets back where they belonged.

She felt rather than heard him move toward her again. All at once, he was right behind her. She tried to steel herself. It didn't do much good. Her midsection was melting. The blood in her veins pounded out his name.

”Hide from what?” he whispered much too tenderly, his breath warm against her ear.

”It's not a 'what,' it's a 'who,'” she replied, low and a little bit angrily. ”And you know it, too.”

He put those big hands of his at her waist, very lightly. She was wearing toreador pants and a crop top, which meant he was touching bare skin skin that warmed and softened and seemed to melt like the rest of her at his slightest touch.

His lips were against her hair. ”You mean it's a 'whom.'”

She pressed her forehead to the cool freezer compartment door. The coolness didn't help. The rest of her was burning up with wanting him. ”Who, whom, what's the difference? It's me, Jonas. You are hiding from me.”

He pulled her, slowly, and so gently, back against him, tucking her into him, letting her feel that he wanted her as she wanted him. Then he loosened his hold a fraction and pressed his lips to her nape. She made it easy for him, bending her head, giving in to him as she always did. All he had to do was touch her, speak to her in that low, private voice that seemed to be meant only for her. And she was a goner. Pathetic. Pitiful. It had to stop. She lifted her head. It was a start. He stopped kissing the back of her neck. ”I have never even seen your bedroom, Jonas. I have not seen where you sleep, your private place. We are married and I haven't seen it.” He let go of her waist and put his hands on her shoulders instead. ”You want to see my bedroom?” he whispered in her ear.

She kept her back straight, her chin high. ”Yes, I do.” His hands were on the move again. They slipped beneath her arms. His fingers grazed the side swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She had to press her lips together to keep from letting out a hungry moan.

”All right,” he said. ”Come home. I'll show you my bedroom.””You'll show it to me?””That's right.””That's not enough.””You want more?””I sure do.””Name it.” He cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She moaned at that, but very softly and then it occurred to her that this was not her room at Angel's Crest. This was her kitchen in North Hollywood and Claudia could come flying down the hall, Mandy in tow, any minute now.

She turned in his embrace and captured those wonderful hands of his. ”Not now...” She sent a glance toward the arch that led to the hall.

He took her meaning and nodded. ”You're right.”

She let go of his hands. He had the grace to move away a few steps.

She told him what else she wanted. ”I want us to share a bedroom, Jonas. I don't care whose bedroom, yours or mine. It doesn't matter. Just as long as we start spendin' whole nights together.”

Something changed in his face. It seemed to close against her. All at once, his eyes were looking right through her. Emma s.h.i.+vered as if a cold wind had blown through the room.

”I sleep alone, Emma.” He said it flatly, as something that was beyond discussion or dispute.