another woman,” she offered gravely.
“Thank you so much, Susan.”
“The one in the purple-and-red print is probably very friendly,” Susan encouraged.
“I’d need a paper bag.”
She gulped down a mouthful of water and stared at him. “Was that a vulgar comment?” she asked interestedly.
“Of course not, Susan.”
His eyes were full of the very devil; they had been all evening. He stabbed a succulent bit of lobster, dipped it in butter and raised the fork to her lips. When she’d first met him, such an action would have made her eyes dart around in alarm to make sure that no one was watching. Now she couldn’t care less. Griff had been a disgustingly debilitating influence on her sense of propriety and reserve.
He was also the handsomest man in the place. Oh, there was the one self-satisfied number in the corner, all dark hair and brooding bedroom eyes. He’d assessed Susan’s figure like a surveyor when she’d walked in. Griff had meticulously seated her out of the man’s line of vision, but Susan noted that her husband’s eyes occasionally flicked past her, sending out civilized little articles of war. She knew exactly the moment the man left.
The waitress stopped at their table with a pot of coffee. Susan nodded yes. Griff just looked at her. He was having distinct difficulty keeping his hands off his wife. There seemed a special loveliness about her lately, and especially tonight. He’d asked her to wear the peach dress again; that was part of it. So was the special luster to her hair, the sheer joy that radiated from her clear gray eyes. Her happiness bubbled so easily when the people around her were happy, an unselfish quality that stirred protective feelings in Griff. “Susan.”
She lifted her head as she wiped her drenched fingers on a napkin, and leaned back, replete.
“Honey, I know you can’t feel entirely comfortable with how fast this has all happened with the kids,” he said quietly.
“Of course I am, Griff-”
“Three more people in the household so suddenly?” He shook his head, leaning both elbows on the table and pushing his plate out of his way. “If it doesn’t bother you, love, it does me. I’ve come to depend on the private times with you, Susie, and loving the kids doesn’t mean we don’t have the right to be alone anymore. Naturally, this week has been sheer confusion, but when the tennis racquets and CDs and whatnot are all in their proper places, it might help if we got someone in to clean the house.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “You mean a housekeeper?”
He nodded. “And someone who’d prepare an occasional meal, be home when the kids arrive from school-”
“Nope.” Susan smiled. “Griff, I just hired Jeff to help out at the shop so I can get home by three. That gives me lots of time to take care of the house, and it allows me to be home for the kids after school.” She added in a cloaked whisper, “Kindly don’t mention it too loud in this feminist day and age, but I happen to like homemaking. Disgusting, I know…”
“Honey…”
“No one’s going to break my china but me. Besides, Sheila will have the kids every second weekend. It’ll work out. You’ll see.” Why she sounded so sure, Susan had no idea. Except that just having acquired a family, she felt possessive about them. No intruders wanted. And surely the incredible chaos of the past few days couldn’t last forever?
“I hope you’re thinking of the cost, Miss Penny Pincher of the Year, where you yourself are concerned-”
Susan admitted honestly, “The cost is part of it. Why should we pay some stranger to break that first cup? Men never understand about a brand-new set of china. This one happens to be hand-painted.”
“It’s something like lining cupboards?”
“You’re getting smarter with age,” Susan said with relief.
Griff chuckled, the darling, and leaned forward to hiss, “Put your shoes on, sassy.”
They were leaving? But Griff motioned to the far corner where a handkerchief-sized dance floor was occupied by only one other couple. An ideal chance to get Griff off the subject of hiring a housekeeper, Susan thought fleetingly…
Griff’s mind was not so easily diverted. Susan was like a mother hen where his chicks were concerned, but having the kids move in was still going to be a major transition for her.
The kids… He’d expected a traumatic, emotional week that just hadn’t happened, thanks to Susan’s gentle takeover and his offspring’s intrinsic response to her warmth, even if no one else had taken the time to analyze how very well it
Griff led his wife to the dance floor, the pulse in his throat suddenly reminding him of how long it had been since he had held her in his arms. The pianist, uncannily sensitive to his mood, began playing a ballad designed to keep thigh locked to thigh. Her hair smelled like sunshine, next to his cheek. The music seemed to wrap around them both and soothe away all the hectic tension of the past few days.
Gradually, he could feel her body melt closer into his, her small sigh catching his heart. He doubted Susan was even aware of her unconscious tension…or its release. For days now, there had been so much to do, so much that needed talking over. They’d both individually taken time with each child, to try to work out any mixed or confused feelings the kids might have over the transition. Susan had taken on Tom until three in the morning one night, with a rapport Griff only wished he had with his son. There had been a great many reasons-not excuses-for crashing into bed and instantly falling asleep, or for going to bed at different times.
For not making love.
Griff was not fooled by all those reasons-not-excuses.
Susan’s head slowly lifted from his shoulder, and he found himself looking down into those soft, lustrous eyes of hers. Her lips unconsciously parted, but she said nothing. His thumb grazed the nape of her neck, and her hands slipped around his waist beneath his jacket in response; then she curled close again. “I need you, Susan,” he whispered. “I need you more than you know.”
He felt that faint tremor of anticipation run through her body, and his lips touched lightly down on the crown of her head, but there was no risking anything else. Not here, not in his present mood. In his present mood, all he wanted to do was make lush, long love to the woman with the sleepy pewter eyes.
He held her closer than a whisper, moving with the seductive rhythm of the love song. It would happen tonight. Susan had been oversensitive to him ever since he’d been a fool enough to snap at her. She’d done a thousand things to convince him she had completely forgotten the incident…except that she’d shied away from real intimacy. Not from lack of love or desire, he knew, but from vulnerability.
And he understood so much more about his elusive wife now; he knew he would try his damndest never again to tread on that vulnerable spot where she was so sensitive. They bickered occasionally. Of course they did. That was part of marriage, and so was unwittingly touching each other’s Achilles’ heels. He hated hurting her. It made him feel sick inside with a feeling of loss.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered.
His smile was faint. He paid the waiter and slipped her coat over her shoulders and led her out into a crisp, clear night. She slid into the seat beside him, and once they were out on the highway he lifted his arm and she curled into his shoulder. “I love you,” she murmured.
“And I love you, Susan,” he whispered back. “So very, very much.”
It was a twenty-minute drive home. With a sleepy sigh, she relaxed like a kitten next to him, but when he pulled into the driveway he looked down at her and unconsciously stiffened.
In the shadows, her sooty lashes nestled like lace against her cheeks. Her lips were just slightly parted, one arm curled around his waist. She had experienced so much anxiety in the past few days…and her sleep was as deep as a baby’s.
