Something About Joe (13 page)

Y
et he didn’t want to have to
bulldoze her into overcoming her scruples about going to bed with
him. He wanted her to come to him willingly, joyously. Perversely,
although he was aching with frustration, he respected her for
pulling away.

Though he felt he’d known her much longer,
it had only been a matter of days since he’d walked in her front
door. He was glad she wasn’t the kind of woman who tumbled into bed
with a man on such short acquaintance.

And yet, at
the same time, he knew he wouldn’t stop trying to bed her. She was
irresistible.

He took the
tray she’d laden with the coffee cups and a plate of chocolate-chip
cookies. His fingers grazed hers as he did so and, even at this
light touch, a shock of awareness sizzled between them.

He followed
her into the living room and
put the tray
on the coffee table. He reclaimed his place on the sofa, his arm
resting along the back of it. She hovered awkwardly nearby so he
patted the seat beside him.

She sat down
as far away from him as possible. He nearly laughed out loud. Sugar
and steel all right. And at the moment she was all sweet, fluffy
cotton candy.

“
Come here,”
he said as he pulled her back into his arms.

A
llison held herself stiffly in
his embrace, but only for a matter of moments. How could she
resist? She snuggled into his warmth, her heart singing her joy.
She was already hungry for his kiss and her mouth sought
his.

She was
pathetically out of practice when it came to this kind of thing.
She’d felt ridiculously shy of him after that torrid session in the
kitchen, and not at all certain of what to expect next. What could
she say to him now?

Everything had changed. Changed completely.
And she still couldn’t quite believe what had happened between
them. She and the nanny. It should seem wrong. But it seemed very,
very right. She slid even closer to him.

Joe sure
knew how to kiss.
Intimately gentle at
first, and then with increasing pressure and hunger. She kissed him
back, rejoicing in the taste and the feel of him, the pressure of
his strong, hard arms around her. She twined her fingers through
his hair.

But in spite
of how much she was enjoying his kiss, she fought against getting
carried away again. Not yet. Not now. She’d spent a lifetime
believing you didn’t go to bed with someone you didn’t
love.

It wasn’t
just what the church said, or what her parents had said; it was
what she believed in for herself. For her, sex had always been part
of a long-term, committed relationship. And until now she hadn’t
been tempted to do otherwise. Until now, in the arms of this
man.

Just one
second more she promised herself, just one more moment in heaven,
just one more delicious shiver of delight as his hand started
moving toward her breast again...

With the
willpower that had got her through years of intensive study when
others were out having fun, that had seen her fight her way
relentlessly upward in the corporate banking world, she pulled away
from his possessive mouth.

Panting
, her breath echoed by his
uneven breathing, she looked for one long moment into his eyes and
then, unable to hold the gaze, looked away.

He cupped
her chin and turned her back to face him. “Why stop?” His voice was
hoarse.

“
I told you,
it’s too soon.
”

“
Why wait?”
he said, cradling her face with his hands and kissing her
again.

She slid her
mouth away from him, knowing it was one of the hardest things she
had ever done.

But he
didn’t let her move away. “Tell me you don’t want me, Allison. Lie
to me,” he said.

“
Oh, Joe,”
she murmured.
“I can’t lie. I want you.
You know I do. But I’m just not ready.”

He
groaned,
but didn’t say anything more for
which she was grateful. He started to stroke her hair. Slowly,
sensuously. Like she was a cat. It felt so wonderful she wished she
could purr.

Did he like
cats? Did he like dogs? It was important to her he liked animals.
Her cat had passed away just before Mitchell was born, but she
wanted another as soon as feasible. Or a dog. Or both. She turned
her head to ask him, but in doing so she caught sight of the
shelves on the wall next to the sofa. And what sat on
them.

She sat up straight and stared.

“
I did that
after you left on your date,” Joe said.

Half of her framed photographs had been
turned around to face the wall.

“
Why?” she
asked, frowning.

“I didn’t want to be looking at your ex all
night,” Joe said, a gruff edge to his voice.

“Oh,” she said.

N
ow it was Joe’s turn to ask her
“why”. From the moment he’d become aware of her as a woman—which
was when she’d first opened the door to him—he’d wondered why so
many photographs of that ginger-haired creep, Peter, were so
prominently displayed around the living areas of her house. It
seemed a veritable shrine to lost love.

He’d
learned
the hard way to be wary of women
still in love with their former partners.

“
From what I
heard in the park that day, your ex-husband is a jerk. So why the
pictures of him all around the place? Why the wedding photos when
he’s dumped on you and Mitchell?”

The sudden
pain that flashed across her face made him immediately curse
himself for his bluntness.

He and his
big mouth. He’d struck some deep vein of hurt here. He could see
her inner struggle—whether or not she should confide in him;
whether to laugh it off with some blithe comment; or tell him the
real story.

Suddenly he
wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear her answer to his smart-aleck
question.

He
remembered how he’d felt when Deborah told him she was still in
love with her ex-husband. That despite all they’d shared she was
going back to him. It had felt like he’d been delivered a body blow
from Mike Tyson.

It wasn’t
the same situation here of course. He scarcely knew Allison. Hadn’t
known her long enough to feel any agony at her loss. He told
himself a few kisses, no matter how mind-blowing, didn’t make any
difference.

Then why did
he want to put his hand over her mouth and tell her not to say the
words he couldn’t bear to hear? That she was still in love with her
ex.

Allison bit
her bottom lip and moved away from him. He wanted to pull her back,
but he couldn’t touch her until he heard what she had to
say.

Her whole
frame seemed to shudder. It was obviously an effort for her to get
the words out.

“
Because...
because more than
anything I want Mitchell to know his father. I want him to be aware
of his roots, his history. It’s why I stay in Australia, when I
could as easily go back home.” She was twisting her hands together
on her lap.

Joe stared
at her. This wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. He was knocked
out at the overwhelming relief he felt at her
confession.

She wasn’t still in love with her
ex-husband.

That left him in with a chance.

He pulled himself up with a mental jolt.

Love
.

Since when had he started thinking of
Allison and love in the same breath?

This was getting confusing.

Then he took
in her agitation, the nervous movement of her hands as she rubbed
one palm with the thumb of the other, the anxious flutter of her
lashes. There was some other agenda here.

In a flash
it became clear to him. Again he was struck at how vulnerable she
was. And how that vulnerability aroused an unaccustomed surge of
protectiveness in him. “Like you didn’t?” he asked, making his
voice as gentle as he could.

Allison
nodded. “The people I
refer to as my...my parents are my adoptive parents. But I didn’t
find out I was adopted until I was sixteen years old.”

She was
having
difficulty getting the words out.
He reached out and pulled her to him in a hug that was for comfort
and reassurance rather than a prelude to passion. But as she
nestled against him, her soft hair brushing his face, her breasts
pressing against his chest he felt desire stir. It was as well she
moved away.

“
When I
found out, I realized why my father had always been so awful to me.
I could never seem to please him. He’d never wanted to adopt. He
wanted ‘flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood’. How many times
did I hear him spout those words? He never forgave my mother for
insisting on adopting a child. Or me for coming between them.” Her
words faltered, tears welled in her eyes.

A great
surge of tenderness for Allison flooded Joe’s heart, and he held
her as close as he could. His mouth sought hers and he tenderly
kissed her. He could taste the salt of her tears.

But as her
mouth opened under his, passion flared again. Comfort and
reassurance had become something else; yet the very strength of
their passion was warm and comforting.

Allison
broke away from the kiss, but it was only to speak. “Thank you
Joe,” she said. He squeezed her hand in reply.

Her
childhood must have been hell. But he found himself in some
sympathy with her father. Not for the cruel way he’d treated the
infant Allison. Never. But for his reasons for not wanting to
adopt.

Flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood.
Allison’s quote echoed through his head. Joe
knew that when he fathered children, he wanted them to be his own.
Not another man’s.

He’d always thought that. Maybe it came from
being part of a close-knit family where blood ties meant all. He
didn’t know. But it was part of him. And not something he’d thought
to question.

“Am I boring you? I guess this is all... a
little heavy.”

“
Not at all.
I’m hono
red you’re sharing it with me.”
He meant it.

She put down her cup again.

“
I’ve tried
to find my birth mother but with no luck. I don’t know if Mitchell
gets his unusual eyes from her or from my real father. Or where my
pale hair comes from. I know hardly anything about her. It makes me
feel...without an anchor. I envy you your family.”

“Where are your adoptive parents now?” Joe
asked.

“
My mother
died years ago. After she died, my father only felt financial
responsibility for me. He saw me through college and after that I
was on my own.”

She swallowed against what were obviously
painful memories.

“
He married
again and has two children of his own. I don’t even get a Christmas
card from him. It’s one reason I agreed to move to Australia. I
have no family ties back home.”

Joe was
surprised at the depth of the anger he felt toward Allison’s
adoptive father for the hurt he’d caused her. But he wanted to ask
a question he knew he probably shouldn’t. He didn’t know why he was
thinking about this issue so much, why it nagged at him. “And does
he treat his own kids differently to the way he did
you?”

“He dotes on them. Or at least he did when I
saw them.”

“
That’s
understandable, I suppose.”

His words
came out seemingly of their own volition. He wanted to drag them
back into his mouth the second he’d said them. He knew immediately
she’d take what he’d said the wrong way.

He’d blown it.

A
llison felt her cheeks first
drain of color, then flush back hot. “Wh...what did you
say?”

She
swallowed hard. Surely she hadn’t heard right. Joe had been so
sympathetic, so understanding, she’d opened up to him like she’d
never opened up before. She’d never even told Peter just how much
her father’s rejection had hurt her.

“
I said…I
suppose it’s understandable he’d care more for his own kids when
he’d been so against adoption.”

His words tore and twisted into her heart.
She’d trusted him. Revealed herself to him.

She couldn’t believe she’d misjudged him so
badly. Been such a fool as to think he’d understand what she’d been
through. Why it was so important to her that her child would know
his birthright.

Allison
leaped up from the sofa. “So that excuses the way he treated
me?”

Joe cleared
his throat.
“I didn’t say it was
excusable. I said it was understandable.”

“Understandable? Understandable he should
treat me like I scarcely had a right to exist?”

Joe was tight-lipped, his eyes dark and
unreadable. It was hard to believe they’d been so intimate only
minutes ago. Now they faced each other like strangers.

“
Allison,
don’t get me wrong. I can see why you hate him. I...I just think I
know how the guy felt about adopting a kid that wasn’t
his.”

“Why? Is that how you feel?”

She’d never
seen him look ill at ease before. “No. Not really.”

He looked
away from her and then resolutely back to face her. “Yes, it is. I
have to be honest about it. I can’t imagine myself bringing up
another man’s child as my own.”