as many times as it would take her to forgive him.
Damn. She’d rub his face in it but good, if she didn’t outright slam the
door
in it.
If
she opened it for him at all. He had to make it worth her while. Something extravagant, a grand gesture to show her his sincerity and EJ knew just the ticket.
“Damn, Angie got to you with all that guru talk, huh?” Nick asked now. “I can see that far-away, she-is-mighty-and-wise-and-I-am-but-an-ignorant-peon look in your eyes.”
“Yeah, she got to me,” EJ said and he wasn’t thinking about Angie.
* * * *
122
Beneath the Surface
Frankie had spent the holiday with her, she knew to keep her company more than out of any obligation to recognize traditional bonds. Almost as soon as he’d finished her modest holiday fixings, he’d been off and running to catch up with his rock group buddies, ostensibly to practice for a gig, and didn’t return until well after midnight to raid her refrigerator for meager leftovers. He’d settled for a roast chicken sandwich and a hot chocolate with marshmallows that he consumed in front of the TV watching
Aliens
and reminiscing with Tabitha until bedtime.
Eric hadn’t called all day Thanksgiving or the several days that had followed; she hadn’t expected him to, and she certainly wasn’t calling him. She’d done nothing wrong, nothing to warrant his ire except tell him the truth and if he couldn’t handle that, that was his problem.
Granted, she hadn’t told him everything, but then who said he deserved to know?
That he could handle her history when she barely could herself? Their relationship hadn’t yet reached that level, and Tabitha wasn’t sure yet whether she wanted to grant Eric the privilege and go there.
She still couldn’t believe he’d walked out on her without a backwards glance and leaving in his wake what had been, for all intents and purposes, a warning:
When you’re
ready to come clean about this, give me a call.
As if she were keeping some grand detrimental secret from him. As if he were her freaking conscience!
It would be a cold day in hell before she dialed his number for anything other than to arrange an appointment to drop off new purchases. Even then she might resort to a delivery service, worth the extra expense to not have to see his smug, presumptuous face again.
Damn him!
Her buzzer sounded and Tabitha paused from cleaning the kitchen island to stare at it.
Against her better judgment, especially since he’d used it and interrupted her and Eric’s getting their groove on, she’d given Frankie a key soon after his latest arrival. She was almost certain it wasn’t him ringing the bell unless he’d lost it already, and she wouldn’t put something irresponsible like this by him which was why she’d had the lock changed since his previous visit.
She stalked to the intercom fuming over all manners of imagined transgressions before she heard
his
voice and a sudden calm-before-the-storm enwrapped her. “What do you want?”
“Tabitha, let me up before I start ringing every buzzer down here.”
“Don’t threaten me, you pompous ass!” When she pressed the “Listen” button on the panel, she wasn’t surprised to hear him laughing.
Damn it she wanted to slap him…and then ride all the frustration and lust right out of her body as she straddled him, his hard cock deep inside her.
123
Gracie C. McKeever
She stood tapping her foot, arms folded across her breasts, waited several seconds, calling his bluff before she remembered who she was dealing with and buzzed him up.
This time he was in blue jeans and a navy turtleneck beneath a tan suede jacket and Tabitha’s vaginal muscles spasmed at his brutal sex appeal as she held open her door and tried to harden her heart against the welcomed sight of him.
He had his hands behind his back, and a dimple-showcasing grin on his face that liquefied the tendons and muscles in her knees so much, she had to hold onto the doorjamb and concentrate not to founder.
“Flowers aren’t even going to come close, Eric.”
“I know. That’s why I bought you this.” He brought his hands from behind his back with a flourish and Tabitha couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across her face.
He held a big fluffy, stuffed pink elephant up in front of his face, wiggling it back and forth before moving it to the side to peek at her. “For your collection.”
“Come in, you pig.” She stepped aside and let him in, surprised when he stopped just inside the door, turned to her and handed over the elephant.
“I only have a minute.”
So many questions sprouted in her throat at that—
why haven’t you called me, and
where have you been all this time
—a couple of which never made it to her lips.
Tabitha settled for silence, just stared at him, waiting for an explanation, refusing to say anything first and let him off the hook.
“I just wanted to apologize for the other night. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“He’s my foster brother,” she blurted, wanted to slap a hand over her mouth, instead gritted her teeth and took a deep breath as Eric grinned at her.
“He’s in love with you, you know.”
“I know.”
“And you still let him stay here?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have control over his feelings. I only have control over mine, and they tell me that he’s a good and decent person I want in my life for as long as he wants and needs to be in mine.” She thought that should have been enough of an explanation, but should have known better where the male ego was concerned.
“How long has he been living with you?”
“Off and on? Years.”
Eric grimaced and Tabitha grinned before she burst out laughing.
“Eric, he’s family. He comes by every once in a blue moon when he’s in town and needs a hand or a place to crash. I give them to him. End of story.”
124
Beneath the Surface
He stared at her and Tabitha could see the questions multiplying exponentially behind his eyes by the power of how many seconds he let tick by before he finally said,
“Okay.”
She had to fight not to sigh with relief in front of him, settled for hooking her free arm through his, trying to lead him further into the apartment.
“I wish I could stay, but I’m on my way to the airport.”
Tabitha arched a brow, said nothing.
“I dropped by to see if you wanted to join me.”
“To watch planes take off and land?”
“No, silly.” He opened his jacket and slid a plane ticket out of his inside pocket.
“I’m inviting you to come with me to Colorado.”
“Colder than New York this time of year isn’t it? I’d rather a trip to the Bahamas.”
“I’m serious, Tabitha. I’m presenting at a Survivors of Suicide annual dinner and I’d like you to come.”
Trying to hold in her excitement she said, “As much as I’d like to see you in action, it’s kind of short notice.”
“I know, and I’m sorry about that, but that’s why I bought you an open round-trip ticket. My plane leaves in a couple of hours, but you don’t have to leave now. You can meet me out there, if you decide to go.” He took a folded brochure out of his pocket and handed it to her with the plane ticket. “This is the hotel where I’ll be staying and the location of the dinner.”
Tabitha took the brochure, staring at it for a long time, tamping down her natural instincts that had her wanting to leap into his arms and go with him as is, right now.
“I’d really like you to come, but if you can’t make it, I’ll understand.”
She peered up into his eyes and knew right away that he was shoveling a load of bull. He was playing it cool, this close to acting the caveman, clubbing her over the head, throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her to the airport. She could see it in his intense gaze, the hungry demanding way his indigo eyes raked over her, just short of a physical yank.
It took everything in her not to tremble and succumb to the force of that gaze, to just play it cool like him and say, “I’ll think about it.”
125
Gracie C. McKeever
Fifteen minutes before show time and EJ was nervous as hell pacing the plush-carpeted corridor outside the Millennium Harvest House banquet room waiting to go on.
Tabitha hadn’t shown up at the airport as he’d hoped even after leaving her at her doorstep with a deep soul-searing kiss that left her breathless, and his own head spinning as he descended the stairs to his Jeep, and she hadn’t shown up at the hotel earlier today.
He should have just given up the idea a long time ago of seeing her at all, especially after that apathetic, “I’ll think about it.”
Either she’d been playing it cool, trying to make him squirm after his cold shoulder and the way he’d behaved the other night, or she really had no intentions of showing up.
He wasn’t angry with her, just angry with himself for thinking that there was enough between them for her to want to travel all the way to Colorado on a moment’s notice to support him the way she supported her foster brother. EJ shook his head trying to deny the specter of jealousy that still clung to him after Tabitha’s explanations.
“So this is where you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Dr. Leslie Rubin swept across the floor clad in an elegant, lace-trimmed navy dress with pearl buttons down the front and matching pumps. Her outfit agreed with the hall’s décor—the crystal chandeliers and plush Persian carpeting of the lobby and fine linen table clothes, and fancy silverware and China of the banquet room inside.
She was slim and attractive in a Lindsay Wagner, Lifetime-Movie-heroine, widowed-mother-of-two-in-suburbia kind of way, the enthusiasm she had for her cause contagious.
EJ smiled as she approached, thought how much her maternal and assertive manner reminded him of Angela, sure that these characteristics served her well in her counseling position at the Platte Valley Crisis Center here in Colorado.
“Just getting some air and stretching my muscles before I go on,” EJ said.
126
Beneath the Surface
“We have a packed house waiting for you.”
“I’m looking forward to presenting.”
She put a friendly arm around his shoulder and squeezed. “Well, I’d better get back. I have another introduction to make before you go on.” She gave him an encouraging smile before turning to leave.
EJ continued his pacing, paused and glanced at the large color placard outside the ballroom announcing the evening’s program:
Sudden Loss and Traumatic Grief:
Survivors’ and Professionals’ Perspectives.
He had near-top billing on the card along with several esteemed doctors and specialists in the field of suicide and suicide prevention, and wondered whether his ranking came from his status as a bestselling author or as a survivor.
Either way it didn’t matter, because Tabitha hadn’t come and there was no one else with whom he wanted to share this grand moment, no one else whom would understand what this meant to him.
The lobby door opened several yards behind him, letting in the cold air from outside and EJ turned, heart dropping when he saw an older couple enter with overcoats draped over their arms as they made their way by him toward the banquet room. They nodded greetings. He nodded back and glanced at his watch, saw he had less than five minutes before he would be introduced.
Damn, he’d better head in. He didn’t want to cut it too close.
He glanced at the door behind him one last time then turned, opened the large heavy mahogany door in front of him and headed into the banquet room to loud applause.
Dr. Rubin had already introduced him and EJ made his way to the podium, weaving in and out of the tables crowding the banquet room floor with eagerness and ease, his speech rehearsed so many times he could do it in his sleep. The theme so close to his heart he could extract and deliver its meaning with the comfort of someone who’d eaten, dreamed and lived it.
EJ reached the podium, briefly hugged Dr. Rubin before she left him to his own devices.
He shuffled his index cards a couple of times before taking a sip of the iced water Dr. Rubin had provided, then glanced out at the sea of tables, hoping one more time to see a familiar face,
her
face. That was when the door in the back opened and she stepped through.
He followed her all the way from the door to a table towards the rear of the hall, and there might as well have been a spotlight on her his eyes were so attuned to her every movement.
She glanced up at him, demurely smiled and gave him a thumb’s up.
EJ grinned and went on autopilot.
He began by reading a passage from
Reaching Out
, one of the more poignant excerpts, one he knew hadn’t failed to bring tears to his and Sinclair’s parents’ eyes.
127
Gracie C. McKeever
The banquet room was pin-drop silent as he finished, and when he glanced out at the tables this time, he saw tears on many of the audience members’ rapt faces.
He closed the book then started his presentation in earnest, finishing up twenty minutes later to deafening applause that he barely heard as he left the podium and made his way through the throng of well-wishers and congratulatory backslaps and handshakes.
Dr. Rubin stopped him as he neared the rear of the hall and Tabitha, shameless tears glinting on her face and arms outstretched. “Oh, my goodness, you were as good as I thought you’d be, better than great!”
EJ smiled, accepted her hug and returned it with equal warmth. Coming from a survivor of suicide, her praise meant more to him than appearing on a ticket with so many distinguished and accredited experts; meant as much to him as Tabitha’s presence.
He watched her from the corner of an eye as he spoke with Dr. Rubin—hanging back in the shadows, one hand grasping the strap of her shoulder bag, the other clutching the handle of a piece of wheeled luggage—and he couldn’t wait to get to her.