Leaping Hearts(22)
Author: J.R. Ward

But this is what I call dinner, she marveled, looking down at the food.

“You can stop staring at it,” Devlin said, sitting down with his own hefty portion. “I know it’s not lobster Newburg but it won’t poison you, I promise.”

“I was just thinking how grateful I am. I’m tired of dinners that are heavy on preparation and light on the plate. If I never see another damned crepe or something with a garnish of endive, it’ll be too soon.”

“Well, you’re safe here.” He laughed. “I’m a meat-and-potatoes kind of man.”

Devlin watched as she sampled the stew, thinking what a tangle of contradictions she was. A wealthy dilettante who cleaned her own tack and wanted to sleep on his couch instead of in a castle. A driven competitor who was looking too fragile to have fought the stallion all afternoon. A seductress who made his blood pound but seemed totally clueless about how beautiful she was. A woman who was raised on gourmet food who was now eating his stew like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Maybe I’m not attracted to her, he thought. I’m just confused.

When she took another mouthful of the stew and sighed with contentment, her eyes flashed up at him. “And to think I used to believe laundry fresh out of the dryer was the pinnacle of bliss.”

“I’m sure you’ve had better,” he said, trying not to drown in the blue he found so captivating.

“Well, I’ve certainly had smaller. What I usually get could fit on the head of a pin and is more art than edible.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Regina’s cook likes to express himself in three dimensions. He’s great at color, texture and presentation. The man’s less strong on calories.”

“Regina’s the wicked stepmother?”

“More like all-pervasive,” A.J. replied between mouthfuls. “For a short woman, she has a way of taking up a lot of space.”

“Personality can add inches where high heels fail.”

“You got that right. My father really loves her, though, and he seems happy, so who am I to judge? I just sneak a sandwich or two on the way upstairs. Like he does.”

“Where’s your mother?”

There was a subtle hesitation before she responded. “She’s been gone a long time now. She died when I was young.”

The words were measured, giving away nothing but fact. She’d spoken them for as long as she could remember, as much a part of what she regularly revealed to people as her address or her phone number. Any real sense of loss she kept to herself.

“I’m sorry.”

A.J. shrugged off the concern, as she always did. “I was very young and I didn’t really know her.”

“It’s still a tremendous loss.”

“I try not to dwell on it.”

“You don’t miss her?”

“Of course I do but she isn’t in the forefront of my mind.”

“You don’t think about what it would be like if she was around?”

“I’ve never known any other way. The normal things people do with their mothers are all hypotheticals to me. It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had.”

“You’re a very strong woman.”

She looked up at him, feeling a respect coming across the table that she reveled in. He was touching her deeply with his steady regard.

“I don’t know if it is strength. I just don’t like getting lost in a period of my life I can never return to and probably don’t remember clearly anyway. A resurrected patchwork of childhood fantasies can be a warm quilt to snuggle up to but it’s no substitute for real life.”

“How can you let go so easily?” There was an edge to his words.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” she said softly. “I guess I’ve come to peace with the loss. The idea that everyone is going to live forever and nothing will ever change is just an illusion.”

His eyes bored into hers. “I’m still working on the coming-to-peace part. I’ve been finding that illusion is just as hard to bury as the dead.”

Devlin looked away, wishing for the days back when he believed nothing could ever take him down, that he would go on winning forever. Back when all he worried about was when the next challenge was coming.

“It gets better, you know,” she told him. “It really does. I’ve had a lot longer to get used to my loss than you have. My mother’s been gone a lot longer than Mercy has.”

She watched Devlin’s face shut down and wasn’t surprised when he changed the subject. For the rest of the meal, they talked easily about Sabbath’s training but after they cleaned up the dishes, he got a serious look on his face again. He was standing at the door of the kitchen, fingers on the light switch, when she walked past him. His hand on her arm stopped her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly. “I like having you around.”

Surprised and thrilled by his admission, her eyes searched his face. “I imagine it must have been lonely here by yourself. I find it’s helpful to be around people when I’m hurting.”

“It’s not just people. It feels good to have you here.”

With a swift movement, he bent down and put his lips against hers. She gasped in surprise and he swallowed her breath, taking her into him. His mouth moved over hers and her hands found his chest, lingering on the lapels of his shirt. Instantly, she was ready to have him closer. Time slowed, then stopped.

Then, with a hiss of frustration, Devlin pulled back as he realized what he’d done. Looking into her eyes, he wanted to offer an explanation but knew he had to leave quickly before he kissed her again.

As he rounded the corner and started up the stairs, he caught a glance of the couch. Six cushions, two armrests and fifteen yards of blue fabric, but it was so much more than a place to sit now because that was where she was going to sleep.

What had he let into his house? he wondered as his heart thudded in his chest. Something dangerous had come inside with that woman, he realized, something tight on her heels, so at first he hadn’t noticed its presence. Now he felt a threat everywhere around him. From her coat hanging next to his to her barn boots tucked beside the door, her shadow seemed to be across every object that, having once been familiar to him, was now foreign.

What had he done, he thought, going upstairs and walking into the bathroom like a zombie. Immediately, he caught the lingering smell of lavender in the air and cursed under his breath. Like crumbs of a feast, it mocked him and sharpened the hunger in his gut. He imagined her body unfurled in scented water with nothing to shield her from his eyes. At the vision, his body responded in a rush of heat as blood thundered in his veins and forced him to reassess what he thought of as unbearable.