“You okay?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” She shuddered on an aftershock.
He pulled his finger from inside her, placed it under his nose for a second then slid it into his mouth. The smell of her, the taste of her made his hard shaft jump.
The headlight of a vehicle entering the parking lot blinded Erik. He hurried Michelle into the car and walked around to his side. He waited outside to give her time to fix her clothes, and for his arousal to dissolve before he climbed behind the wheel.
He had surely taken leave of his good senses to do what he just did in a public place. He had never been this reckless with Cassie. But then she’d never been this responsive to him either. Michelle, on the other hand, brought out something wild and savage in him, something he didn’t even know he had. And he loved the way it made him feel. Potent. Virile. Unstoppable.
He opened the car door and climbed behind the wheel, knowing they had to talk about what just happened.
She turned to him, her eyes still misty with passion. “Erik, I’ve never done anything like that. I just want you to know. I’m not a—I’m not that kind of girl.”
“I believe you, Michelle. I’ve never done anything like this before, either. But you have to admit, this day had been quite tantalizing. It had been leading to this. It was inevitable.”
“So what do we do now?”
He sighed as he started the engine. “We go home.”
“And pretend that it never happened?”
“I don’t think either of us can pretend it never happened. But I hope it answers your question.”
She frowned. “What question?”
“Whether or not I’m your man.”
A timid smile cracked her swollen lips. “After what we just did, you’d better be.”
He hooked a finger under her chin and drew her face to his. Leaning over, he kissed her lightly, but persuasively. “And
you
are my woman. No matter how I behave toward you after we get back to Amherst, don’t lose sight of that. Like I told you earlier today, I just need time.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Michelle pulled the Jaguar into the driveway of 204 Jefferson Drive and shut off the engine. No need to put it in the garage since she would have to pick up Precious from her friend’s birthday party in two hours.
She got out of the car and walked around the side of the house toward the kitchen. Life had returned to normal since their return from Granite Falls. She and Precious had stayed a few days with Philippe and she’d really grown to like him. He was the father she wished she had growing up, and he’d treated her like the daughter he never had. And thank goodness, everything had turned out well with Erik’s patient.
Back in Amherst, her days were spent taking care of Precious while Erik spent his at the hospital. They had dinner together as often as he could, and his mother had joined them a few times. While he entertained Precious after dinner, Michelle would write. They’d gone to the movies a few times and picnicked at the local parks twice.
They were becoming very good friends, and she felt much more relaxed around him even though her heart hammered in her chest and her skin tingled every time she was near him or thought of the intimacies they’d shared in Granite Falls. Intimacies neither of them ever spoke about.
Sometimes, after Precious was in bed, they would sit around and talk. They talked about the kids at the center and her progress on raising funds to build the new one. They talked about the slumping economy, about the upcoming elections, and which party should lead the country. Their opposing views didn’t matter. They talked about Cassie, his parents, and Robert and Yasmine. She’d told him about Ryan and how she’d followed him to South Carolina after she lost her job then returned to Manchester when they broke up. He never brought up the subject of her father again, and she was happy for it. That part was over and done with.
She was learning a great deal about Erik as a brilliant doctor, a devoted father, and a charming man who knew how to make a woman feel special by merely smiling at her.
She respected him. She trusted him. She loved him.
As she walked into the kitchen, Michelle eyed her laptop on the table. Before she left to drop Precious off at the party, she’d been in the middle of writing another fund-raising letter for the center. Rose had informed her that the one they’d been circulating wasn’t doing the job. They were still very short of their financial goal.
Some superb news had resulted from that old letter, though. The proprietor of one of the businesses they’d solicited owned a piece of land across the street from the projects where most of the kids who frequented the center lived. According to Rose, Mr. Dawson had himself climbed out of poverty into success and wanted to give something back to his town.
She would love nothing more than to plop down in front of her laptop and finish the letter, but she was driven instead to put away the bags of recently delivered groceries sitting on the island. Erik had made arrangements for the groceries to be delivered so that Mrs. Hayes didn’t have to go to the store. Michelle had learned that before Cassie died, she was the one who did the weekly shopping.
She still couldn’t believe the modest way they lived—well modest compared to the fully staffed mansion he grew up in—when Erik was worth millions, perhaps billions of dollars. He didn’t have to work, didn’t even have to be a doctor, but he’d told her that he loved helping people. She knew for a fact that most of the patients he saw at the free clinic didn’t pay him. It was another outstanding quality that endeared her to him.
Michelle had emptied about half the number of bags when Mrs. Hayes shuffled into the kitchen.
“Michelle dear, you don’t have to do that. That’s my job.” She walked over and tried to shoo Michelle away.
“Yeah, right.” Michelle placed her hand on the older woman’s shoulders and steered her toward the table, happy she could return a favor, however small, to the old lady who had been so kind to her and Robert when they were children. Many times, she had taken them into her little house that always smelled of cooking spices. She would feed them then wrap them in blankets she kept on her couch. She would turn on her TV and she and Robert would watch cartoons until they fell asleep in a warm, quiet room for a change. Then their father would come for them and take them home. Take them to hell was more like it. The same kind of hell children she cared about still lived in.
She helped Mrs. Hayes into a chair. “You sit yourself right down there and let me do this. She pulled out another chair and made the lady put her feet up. “Now there. Would you like something to drink?”
“A glass of water would be nice.”
“Coming right up.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Hayes said, smiling as Michelle placed a crystal glass in her hand. “You remind me so much of Miss Cassie. It’s the same way she used to fuss over me.”
“Really?”
“She was a sweet woman.” Mrs. Hayes took a long draft from the glass.
“How did you ever end up here… in this house, anyway?” Michelle asked, going back to the grocery bags.
Mrs. Hayes chuckled. “It’s a long story.”
“I have time.” After all the time Mrs. Hayes had devoted to her childhood, she could spend a few moments listening to the old woman’s life story. Besides, even though Mrs. Hayes still refused to admit pulling strings to get her hired, Michelle knew that if she hadn’t run into the old woman that day at the diner, months ago, she never would have met Erik. She wouldn’t be in this kitchen today.
“Well, my younger brother came down sick with leukemia. He didn’t have medical insurance, so I started taking care of him. I sold everything I had and mortgaged my little house, but it wasn’t enough. At the time, I was cleaning office buildings for a living. One of them was the free clinic on Bridge.” She smiled as a far-away look came to her eyes. “Then this young doctor joined the staff.”
“Erik?” Michelle asked.
She nodded. “Dr. Erik Philippe LaCrosse, Jr.—young, handsome, brilliant, and newly married. He’d be at the clinic at all ungodly hours of the night. Miss Cassie used to bring him lunch and sometimes dinner.” She chuckled. “He used to complain that she was the worst cook and how he feared she would poison him one day. So I started bringing him little dishes here and there. You remember I like to dabble in the kitchen.”
Michelle swallowed a lump that lodged itself in her throat as she filled the egg tray in the refrigerator door. “Yeah, I do.” If it weren’t for Mrs. Hayes, she and Robert would have died of starvation in their childhood.
Mrs. Hayes sighed and took another sip of water. “Eventually, my brother passed, but by then I’d lost my house to the bank. I didn’t have anywhere to live, so I started sleeping at the clinic. The doctor figured out I was homeless and he and Miss Cassie insisted I come live in their guesthouse. All I had to do in return was cook. After she passed, I took over the housekeeping.”
Michelle was rooted at the island, too choked to speak. Just the thought of this woman who’d been so kind to her and so many other kids in her neighborhood, not having a place to live was too much for her. Life was so damned unfair. Tears welled up in her eyes.
When she felt the comforting arms go about her, Michelle let the tears flow.
“Michelle, darling,” Mrs. Hayes said, guiding her over to the table and seating her, just as Michelle had done to her a short while ago. “The good Lord brought me here for a reason. All these years I didn’t know what it was until I ran into you at Mama Lola’s diner.”
“So you did have the agency call me,” Michelle said, smiling through her tears.
Mrs. Hayes smiled back, sheepishly. “Yes. I know the owners at Ready Nanny Agency. They used to be my clients. The doctor was getting desperate and Precious was growing more miserable with each potential that came through the door. I asked them to cancel the scheduled candidate and call you instead. I told them not to give you time to think about it.”
Michelle smiled. “They didn’t. Thank you. You are truly my guardian angel.”
“The doctor is sweet on you, and I know you like him,” Mrs. Hayes said softly.
She laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“I may be old, but I’m not blind.” She paused. “You need to tell the doctor the truth about your father. You shouldn’t have lied to him.”
“I didn’t plan on it. It just kind of slipped out when he asked me about him.” She crossed her arms to stop the quivering in her stomach.
“Your father is a drunk and a drunk killed Miss Cassie, but that doesn’t have anything to do with you. Even if it was your father, the doctor wouldn’t hold it against you. He’s a fair man, and I’ll tell you what he hates most are lies and deception. Tell him.”
Michelle knew the old woman was right. She needed to tell Erik the truth, and she would. She just had to find the right time. “Mrs. Hayes, how well did you know my parents?”
“What do you mean, dear?” She dropped wearily down in the chair next to Michelle.
Michelle shrugged. “Well… I know they aren’t from New Hampshire. All Robert and I know is that they moved here from the south when Robert was just four years old, and my mother was already pregnant with me. They don’t have any family. Not any we know about. They must have come from somewhere.”
Mrs. Hayes placed her wrinkled hand over Michelle’s. “Do you have a specific reason for asking these questions, little Michelle?”
“It’s just that one of my friends thinks that he may not be our real father. You know, because neither of us looks like him. We don’t act like him either.”
“Hmm. I only knew your mother for a very short time, Michelle, but we became close friends.”
“So close that she asked you to be in the delivery room when I was born.”
She nodded. “She was very sweet and shy and kept to herself a lot. Your father was very protective of her in public.” She paused for a moment and her face twisted with concentration. “Now that you brought it up, he was more guarded that protective. If he saw Violet talking to me, he’d always find a way to stop the conversation and take her into the house.”
“You think he was hiding something? You think he was afraid she’d say something he didn’t want her to reveal?”
“I don’t know, dear. I asked her if he physically abused her. She swore up and down that he didn’t. I never saw any bruises on her, so I don’t know.”
Michelle clenched her teeth together. Her blood boiled at the possibility that her father had hit her mother.
“If you think he’s not your father, then you should look into it,” Mrs. Hayes said. “You should at least find out where you came from, or if you have any other family. There was just something about him that didn’t quite fit. I should finish up the laundry and make up the doctor’s bed,” she added. “Thanks for putting away the groceries.” As she straightened up, she swayed and grabbed the table.
Michelle was on her feet and holding her. “Are you all right, Mrs. Hayes?
“I just felt a little woozy there.”
“Sit down.”
“No child. I just probably need to take my medicine.”
“Where is it? And what are you taking meds for?”
Mrs. Hayes placed a cool hand against Michelle’s cheek. “I have all kinds of ailments. The doctor keeps me supplied with medicine. It’s at the guesthouse. Perhaps if you could run down and get it for me.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? And I’m not going to take no for an answer,” she added, steering her across the kitchen and out the door. “If I could, I’d sling you over my shoulder and carry you, but since I’m so skinny, you have to walk. Just hold me tight.”
Mrs. Hayes protested all the way to the guesthouse, but after making sure she took her medicine and propping her up on her sofa in front of her plasma TV, Michelle came back to the main house with a smile on her face.
But that smile slowly faded as she walked down the second floor hall toward the master suite. She’d promised Mrs. Hayes that she would make Erik’s bed and put out fresh towels for him. An army of butterflies took flight in Michelle’s stomach. She had been living in this house for almost two months and she’d never ventured into the master suite. On several occasions, curiosity had lured her in that direction, but each time she reached the door, she’d stopped. She always felt as if she were snooping, which in fact she would have been, seeing she had no reason to enter the private quarters that man shared with his late wife.