When Ross put his lips by her ear, she realized that it was the nearest he’d come since she arrived. The warmth of his skin by her cheek sent a tingle through her. “Thank God for that,” he said in a stage whisper, though they were alone in the room. He straightened. “The day’s pretty much over. Let’s get going.”
Chloe gathered her things. It had been an unexpectedly pleasant and interesting afternoon. If each of her days here were like it, she might survive after all.
But something hung heavy in a half-hidden corner of her mind. It had New Orleans written all over it. After New York, there would be Rhode Island, then Alabama. Should she do New Orleans after that? Would it solve anything? Would it change her feelings for Ross?
No doubt, she did love him. Walking down a long corridor with him now, she felt like a princess. He ruled the place, but he was gentle and caring. He loved her. Was she worthy of that?
They were silent during the cab ride to Ross’s brownstone. “You’ll be staying here,” he told her calmly, breaking what was almost a truce.
“Ohhhh, no,” she balked, but followed him out of the cab. “I’ll go to a hotel. The city is frill of them. You can go inside and make a call to book the room that should have been booked on Monday.”
Ross led her up the front stairs to the tall oak door, turned the key in the lock, and let them in. Once inside the gracious hall, he took her coat. “There are three floors here. I sleep on the second. You can have the third all to yourself. I’m not suggesting that you sleep with me, only that you stay here. It’ll be more convenient.”
Chloe recalled what he had said on the phone about needing her near him. Separate bedrooms? On separate floors?
Remembering Rye Beach and feeling suddenly lighter, she said, “Okay. I’ll take the penthouse.” She had taken the penthouse in Rye Beach, too. They shared that past, and a grin of remembrance now.
“Come,” he said warmly. “I’ll show you around.”
From first to second to third floor they went, examining furniture, artwork, and memorabilia from his travels. No room in the house would have won a designer’s award, yet every room had a warmth that reached out to Chloe and made her feel at home.
Ross, too, made her feel at home. He put no pressure on her, so she put none on herself They ate at a nearby restaurant, then returned for a quiet evening of reading. When Chloe excused herself shortly after eleven, he bid her good night with a noticeable lack of lechery.
“You’ll find an extra blanket in the closet. If you want more towels check the cupboard in the bathroom.” He looked up from his papers, but didn’t rise.
“I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “Good night.”
“Good night. Sleep well.”
One glance back as she left the room told her that he had returned to his papers. She took the stairs slowly, one flight to the next. This was a side of Ross she had never seen. In the past their relationship had been shaped by physical attraction. Now Ross seemed either immune, or holding his interest in check.
Whichever, she was grateful. Living with him, working with him could have been a nightmare. As it was, she was aware of the fact that he would be sleeping one short flight away. More than once that night she held her breath, hearing a sound, wondering if he was making the climb.
Her bedroom door remained closed, and when she fell asleep, she slept well.
It was good. Thursday and Friday were packed with work, long hours spent huddled with the masterminds of the Rye Beach Complex. They were amenable to her suggestions, often mildly questioning, sometimes strongly doubting, but always ready to listen. Ross was absent during most of the work, dropping in to check on the progress, but otherwise yielding to the men beneath him.
Chloe asked him about it Friday evening. “I thought you’d be more comfortable if I kept my distance at the office,” he said.
“But aren’t you concerned about the project? For all you know the revised plans may be unacceptable to you personally.”
“I doubt that,” he replied, smiling comfortably. “I trust you. And I trust the men you’re working with. They know what I want.” He paused, eyes changing, voice lowering. “So do you.”
Her throat grew tight. It was the first thing he had done that was at all suggestive. For that reason, she indulged him the lapse. And because the lapse was brief, she let him bribe her to stay in New York until Sunday with a pair of choice tickets to the Big Apple’s newest hit musical.
“How did you ever get seats?” she asked in excitement, reaching for the telltale envelope. Ross only raised it much higher, out of reach. “I have ways.” He laughed. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”
“You know I haven’t! It only opened last week, and you’ve known every one of my comings and goings since then.”
He smiled smugly and changed the subject, but Chloe easily acclimated herself to a Sunday return to Rhode Island. When he announced that he had work to do at the office on Saturday morning, she binged on Fifth Avenue, treating herself to a new dress, shoes, and a purse. Again, though, there was that dark tugging at the back of her mind. The outfit was for New Orleans. If she went, she wanted her parents to be proud. If she went.
Saturday afternoon was something else. Had she planned a few hours in the city, they couldn’t have been as exciting as the ones Ross planned. From museum to park to ice cream parlor and back, it was a dream time. He was intellectually stimulating and wonderfully adventurous, even-tempered to a fault.
He appeared to be surviving abstinence with no problem but a tic in his jaw. She noticed it when they were the closest-standing side by side before a Calder mobile at the Guggenheim, walking hip to hip through the squeeze of the crowd at Rockefeller Center, sitting knee to knee at a small table in a quiet restaurant.
At least, she wanted to think the tic was from that. She wanted to think he was feeling the strain, because she certainly was. His hands-off policy made working easier, but it did nothing for the desire she felt. It grew through all of Saturday, all of Saturday evening, all of Saturday night. By the time they returned from the theater in the early hours of Sunday morning it was near to bursting.
She took his lead and put it on ice. In the living room for a nightcap, their conversation was as soft and pleasing as the entire four-day stretch had been. She felt happy. Then she went upstairs, alone, to the bedroom that had been lonely all week, and the ice melted. She dozed and woke, shifting in bed with little hope of relief from frustration. She tried to think of other things, but Ross kept her restless and aching. It was dawn when she finally crept from bed and went to the window.
The city was rising. The deep purples and blues of night were beginning to fade to lighter hues. The tallest of the skyscrapers to the east wore the first pink traces of the sun on its uppermost windows. It was lovely and peaceful. Only the dull ache inside her marred it.
“I couldn’t sleep,” came a voice at the door. She turned to find Ross standing there. Standing tall, his features hidden in the shadows, he wore a robe that wrapped at the waist and hung to his knees. The unruly rumpling of his hair gave truth to his words. “How ‘bout you?”
Her throat was tight. “The same.”
She watched him slowly approach. Each step brought him closer to the window, until his features were clear in it. Though his eyes reflected her own torment, he touched her cheek with a tenderness that made her want to weep. She couldn’t pull away. She was desperate for his love.
If there were germs of reason floating around, they vanished with his first kiss. What remained was a hunger that had been days in building. Chloe gave herself up to it without a thought.
Ross touched her everywhere, caressing her through the thin lavender gown, and she touched him right back. But his robe was thick, and she grew impatient. The robe was easily opened and his body bared. She touched him then, bringing low sounds from his throat, and the feeling of power was heady. He began to shake under her stroking. His penis grew thick and engorged.
Moments later, her gown fell to the ground with his robe. His mouth ate at hers, as he lifted her and carried her to the bed. The weight of his body pinned her to the sheets, but there was no pain in it for Chloe. She welcomed his force, wanting even more.
“Yes!” she cried, clutching at his hips to pull him closer.
But Ross tensed at the sound of her voice. He was breathing hard, pressing his forehead to the pillow by her ear. She felt him rock hard and large against her, but he didn’t enter.
“I swore I wouldn’t do this,” he whispered hoarsely, “swore I’d keep my hands off you. I’ve tried. God knows, I’ve tried!”
When he raised himself to look at her, his expression shocked her into awareness. “Don’t go!” she cried.
“I have to. For this one release, I’d be buying a huge packet of pain.”
“No!” Her fingers tightened on his shoulders until her knuckles turned white. She was close to panic. “Please, Ross. I’ve never asked you for anything else. But please … now … I can’t bear it!”
The impetus was hers, lips and arms and hips all working against him until he surrendered with a moan. Falling to the bed and rolling to his back, he drew her over him, and she loved him that way. She couldn’t say the words he wanted to hear, but her body could show him what she felt.
It did that, and quite well. By the time the sun’s golden rays breached the windowsill and glistened on their sweat, they were totally spent.
Rasping breaths broke the air, but otherwise, all was quiet. Something was wrong. Chloe felt it the instant her pulse began to slow. There was no talk. No closeness. The satisfaction that usually kept them warm and entwined faded fast.
Ross rose from the bed, retrieved his robe, and left the room. Alone again, Chloe curled into a tight ball with the covers pulled to her ears.
Apparently, it was time to put up or shut up. Ross couldn’t live with half-measures-but then, had she really thought he would? Her body might love him to bits, but if she couldn’t love the rest with her head and her heart, there was no hope.
She heard the front door slam shortly after he left her room. She didn’t know where he went, and he was back in time to take her to the train station, but even the short ride there was awkward. It wasn’t until she was about to board the train that he said more than a full sentence, and then his voice was quiet.
“I’d like to follow through with the liaison between Hansen and ESE, but I think Lee should handle the account. You’re right. It’ll be too difficult any other way, at least for now.”
Chloe wanted to argue, but no words came out.
His eyes held defeat when he looked at her a final time. “I’ll be here, Chloe. When you’re free, let me know.”
On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, Chloe boarded a plane. It taxied and took off, then climbed into the sky and headed north. New Orleans fell behind. New York was ahead. She was going back to Ross.
She tried to sleep, but was too excited. She ate dinner, she read a magazine, she looked out the window and smiled. Where a haunted woman had been just a few days before, was one with a newborn peace.
She had come a very long way in a very short time, but it hadn’t been easy. There were dozens of doubts and second thoughts dogging her through Mobile, and added days spent wavering there, then fear and unsureness when she arrived at her parents’ home in New Orleans on Thanksgiving morning.
Now, as the plane began its descent, she shook her head in amazement. So many years lost over a misunderstanding. But it was cleared up now. It was better. She would call Ross the minute she landed. He would be totally surprised.
But she was the one in for the surprise. Ross was at the airport to meet her, standing tall and dark and vibrant. In a moment of ddji vu, their eyes met over the crowd. Chloe stopped in awe, knowing that her next steps would be as momentous as the ones she had taken eleven years ago. But she was a woman now and finally free to love. Breathing deeply, she ran forward, Ross met her halfway and crushed her in his arms, holding her tightly enough, long enough to say what he felt without words.
Chloe owed him the words, though. When she drew back to look up at him, her throat was constricted by the same emotion that brought tears to her eyes. A mouthed “I love you” was the best she could do. It was enough.
His face lightened. His eyes glowed. “Let’s go home,” he said, and, arm in arm, they did just that.
A short time later, they were in Ross’s living room, sitting on the sofa, facing one another. He held her hand tightly, while she tried to put into words everything she had learned in New Orleans.
“It was a tragic comedy of errors,” she began. “I had blamed myself for going with you and upsetting Crystal, even for tossing that coin, and I felt so guilty when she died that I withdrew into myself. When my parents couldn’t get through to me, they sent me to stay with friends in Newport in the hope that the change of scenery would do me good. I thought that they just didn’t want me around to remind them of what had happened, so I stayed away. One misunderstanding after another.”
“But it’s over?” he asked, so obviously needing reassurance that she lifted a hand to his cheek and kissed him.
“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s over. I was really worried about my mother for a while there. When she learned what I’d thought all these years, she was beside herself with grief. We spent that whole first night talking, just the two of us.” She grew pensive. “I’d never had her all to myself before. There were always the three of us. But Mom was great, even as upset as she was. She explained so many things to me. It helped.”
She looked again at Ross. His eyes were warm with understanding, urging her on.
“She talked about having twins, about watching them grow, about knowing their similarities and their differences. She pointed out that if the tables had been turned, and Crystal had had the affair, I’d have reacted differently. In other words,” she sighed, sad but hopeful, “Crystal’s reaction was part of her personality, just as the guilt I’ve lived with all these years is part of mine.”
“Is?” Ross asked softly.