Look What the Stork Brought (Man of the Month) Page 14

  “Do you want me to call, Sophie?”

  “Yes! Oh, please...I mean, I really would like to know how your grandmother gets along.”

  “She asked about you. About the baby.”

  Sophie shifted the phone to the other hand, leaned back against the wall and smiled, feeling that same glowy feeling she felt when she gazed down at her daughter—the same feeling, or a variation of it, she felt whenever Joe smiled at her.

  They said good-night soon after that, and Joe promised to call at a reasonable hour, and once more, Sophie told him he didn’t need to feel obligated, knowing she would wither and die if he didn’t.

  One more time, she told herself as she slid her foot out from under Lady’s grizzled rump and led her back to the kitchen.

  Easing into bed again, she reminded herself he’d have to come back for his truck, and she would see him then. And until then, she would exercise every day and have something done to her hair—a rinse and a really good cut. And she would buy a few new dresses, something for fall. And try that alpha-hydroxy lotion to see if it would actually make fine lines and brown spots disappear.

  And Joe would find her irresistible and decide to stay here in Davie County. He would get a job doing whatever retired policemen did when they didn’t actually have to work.

  That was another thing that separated them. His money. He’d never told her about it, but as the only grandson of a woman who could afford to give away more than a million dollars worth of stuff—no matter how tacky and useless it was—to a museum, he’d obviously come from a background that differed vastly from hers.

  It was seven weeks to the day when Joe called from the airport in Dallas and asked if she could possibly meet him in Greensboro. His flight was due in at 3:47.

  Sophie dropped the phone, stepped on Lady’s foot and yelled to the refrigerator repairman that the door was open, to come on in.

  And Joe, of course, heard it all and wanted to know who she’d invited into her house. He groaned when she told him, and then said, “Just be there, will you? And Sophie, drive carefully. I don’t mind waiting if you’re late.”

  But of course, she wasn’t late. She was there long before the plane came in, her newly styled hair only slightly windblown, her new denim-blue silk shirtwaist only slightly wrinkled, the glow on her lightly tanned face only slightly radiant.

  He dropped his bag and took her into his arms, baby and all, and she laughed and sobbed all at once. Iris protested.

  “Sorry, Fatcheeks. Didn’t mean to squash you.”

  It was after five when they got home, and then there were the groceries Joe had insisted on buying to put away, supper to eat and Iris to nurse, bathe and settle. It would be hours before they could even think of going to bed.

  It was all they thought of. Joe examined the new locks, but his eyes never strayed too far away from where Sophie was. She put the sweet potatoes in to bake and set the butter beans on to cook, but she was aware with every sense she possessed that he was nearby. Lean, sun-bronzed, with just a touch of silver glinting in his crow black hair, he prowled and he watched until she got tired of dropping things and sent him outside to examine Lady’s new pen.

  Finally when the dishes were done, Iris was asleep, and Lady was outside, whining to come in again, there was nothing to keep them apart.

  “I haven’t been able to think of anything else in weeks. Wanting you so bad—wondering if I’ve lost my mind—wondering if I imagined it all.”

  Wordlessly she shook her head.

  “Is that a negative? I don’t want you? I haven’t lost my mind? Or I didn’t imagine it all?”

  “Oh, Joe,” she cried, and then they were in each other’s arms, laughing, talking, tugging at buttons and zippers. The waiting was over. She would worry about tomorrow...well, tomorrow. For now, there was only this—only Joe.

  Oniy Sophie, Joe thought Only Sophie could make me forget how bad things can be between a man and a woman. Make me want to start all over again, and this time to make it work.

  “Your knee,” she said, and he drew back and stared at her.

  “You’re worried about my knee? What—you think it might be a genetic defect? That our kids’ll be born with a bum knee?”

  Burying her face in his throat, Sophie had to laugh. “No, silly—I don’t care if they’re double-jointed. I—” And then she lifted her face to stare at him. They’d made it out of the kitchen and were halfway down the hall to her bedroom. “Joe—our kids?”

  “I’m not even forty years old yet. That’s not too old to start a family, is it?” He felt younger than springtime. Whatever that old song said, he felt it.

  “Joe, does that mean—are you sure?”

  He took a deep breath and led her through the door, to the bed. Her pretty blue dress was unbuttoned, her hair was a mess—she’d shed her shoes, but she was still wearing panty hose, and those had to go. “Listen, I’ve had some wear and tear over the years, but all the vital parts are still working just fine.”

  “Prove it.”

  “So, if you’re not afraid to... Prove it?”

  She smiled that same slow, sweet smite that had rocked him on his heels the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her, when she’d been nine months pregnant and a prime suspect.

  “Of course, if you’re too tired,” she purred.

  There were challenges no man could walk away from and still call himself a man. Sophie was one. Had been right from the first, only he’d been too thickheaded to realize it. It had taken Miss Emma to diagnose what ailed him. She’d been the one to send him east to bring Sophie and Iris back to Texas.

  “Too tired?” he growled. One step at a time, he backed her toward the bed. When the back of her legs struck the mattress, she toppled over, and Joe went down with her, letting her bear his full weight for a moment before he rolled over onto his side and carried her with him.

  His shirt was unbuttoned. She made short work of that before she tackled his belt. By the time her nimble, capable fingers found his zipper, he was shaking like a leaf.

  “Slow down, sweetheart. We’ve got all night.”

  “I don’t want to slow down,” she said. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you?”

  There was no answer to that. He didn’t even try. Instead they began to explore and to kiss, and then one thing led to another, and soon she was gasping as she took him inside her for the first time.

  Take it easy, he reminded himself, gazing down at the lush perfection beneath him. Her breasts were ripe, their pale surface like satin, like warm snow. She was all woman—his woman. Joe struggled for the words to tell her how he felt, but then she lifted her hips and her hands moved down over his shoulders, lingering to toy with his small, flat nipples. They peaked instantly at her touch, and he groaned and thrust deeper.

  He wasn’t going to be able to wait—it had been too long. It had been forever. When her fingers trailed down between their bodies, and she touched the root of him, he sucked his breath in sharply between clenched teeth and carried them in a wild race over the finish line, where they collapsed together, laughing, sobbing—at least Sophie was sobbing. Joe wasn’t sure what he was doing. Muttering something about love and terrific sex, and then more about love.

  He suspected that from now on, he was going to be doing a lot of it. All of it. The words, the music, the whole ball of wax.

  From the nursery down the hall came the call of the wild. Sophie laughed helplessly. “What timing.”

  “At least she waited, which is more than I can say.” He was a little embarrassed at how quick off the mark he’d been, but then, it had been a long time. And she’d been with him all the way. He knew damned well he wasn’t wrong about that. It had been her sweet response that had sent him over the edge.

  “Stay there. Let me bring her to you,” he said.

  She protested, but not very much. Spreading her arms at her sides, Sophie stared up at her lover, smiling, and whispered, “Oh, yes...”

  Mean
ing nothing in particular. Meaning everything.

  And then Joe was back, cradling Iris in his big, muscular arms, whispering, “Your great-grannie’s going to love you, dumplin’.”

  And Sophie thought again, Oh, yes...

  Epilogue

  “A little more to the left,” the tiny, blue-haired lady commanded. “There, that’s better. Now, hang the rest of the stockings and fetch me that box of decorations Joe brought down from the attic. Daisy and that tribe of hers will be here any minute now, and if I don’t do everything first, she’ll try to take over. Bossy woman. Never could abide a bossy woman.” She muttered something about an abomination before the Lord, and Sophie hid a smile as she hurried to do Miss Emma’s bidding.

  No one dared cross her. The old darling was as ruthless as any dictator, except where Iris was concerned. Iris, five months old, drooled all over her G’anny, and G’anny adored it.

  Joe came in a side door just as she raced past on her mission. “Slow down, it’s still three days until Christmas.”

  “Daisy’s on her way over. Miss Emma’s afraid she’ll want to take over the decorating.”

  Joe grinned and tugged his wife into his arms. “So let her. The two of them have been doing battle for years. Now that Daisy’s got herself a husband and a couple of stepsons, she wants to prove her mettle. Miss Emma can handle it. Did you two get that newsletter finished?”

  “It’s ready for the printers. Now she’s talking about desktop printing. Joe, I’m not sure I can keep up with her.”

  Joe laughed. His fingers were destroying her carefully styled hair—she tried so hard to look the part of wife of a successful businessman, but it was an uphill battle. He still delighted in reminding her of the way she’d looked the first time he’d ever seen her, sprawled out on her backside in her garden, as big as a walrus and going into labor.

  “Oh, before I forget, Donna called,” she told him.

  His tongue was doing crazy things to her left ear. “Can she make it?”

  “She’s on standby—ah, Joe! She’s...she’s bringing someone special for us to meet,” she gasped.

  “Jeez,” Joe said, and then grinned. “Hope springs eternal. I guess we Danas are late bloomers.”

  “Speaking of gardens—”

  “Were we speaking of gardens?” With his hand inside her dress and his lips making goose bumps on the side of her throat, Sophie groped for her lost train of thought.

  “By the way, we just closed on that piece of land north of town,” he said. “One of these days you’ll have all the garden space you need. We can plant row after row of jade and see what sprouts.”

  “What? Joe, how do you expect me to think when you’re doing that?”

  “What, this?” he asked, all innocence.

  She gave up, mission forgotten, and surrendered to his kiss. It never failed to amaze her, the way her life had changed. And all because of a handsome, smooth-talking con man and a few chunks of carved green stone.

  “Got a minute?” Joe asked. “I’ve got an appointment with a building contractor, but that’s not for half an hour.” He was doing wicked things he had no business doing in the main hall, where anyone could walk in and see them.

  “No, I haven’t. If I don’t hurry, Miss Emma will start pounding on the floor with her cane.”

  “So let her pound. The exercise’ll be good for her.”

  “Joe, you’re totally heartless.” She nuzzled that place in the curve of his shoulder that felt so good and smelled so good and always drove him wild. Driving this man wild was a newly developed talent—one she was very proud of. Maybe in a hundred years, the novelty would wear off.

  “You got that right, sugar. Lucky for you, though, heart-stealing’s not against the law in Texas.”

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-7199-9

  LOOK WHAT THE STORK BROUGHT

  Copyright © 1997 by Dixie Browning

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