Sorry this has taken so long! I never meant for Chapter 8 to leave you hanging...but Chapter 9 was being stubborn with me! This picks up right where we left off...with Bobby having left to go back to his apartment, leaving Emily in the kitchen of her house, looking after him...
Chapter 9
Emily stood at the door for a moment, watching Bobby disappear around the corner of the house, before she went back to the table and sank slowly into a chair. She rested her chin in her hand and wondered how to make him understand. She knew his job was demanding, but she also knew he was used to being on his own and not having anyone waiting for him at home. Frances could be plenty demanding of his time as well, and Emily had seen them together often enough to witness the push-pull dynamic of their relationship.
Any wonder he was beginning to do the same thing with her.
With a deep sigh, she got up from the table and made a pass through to turn off the lights and lock up on her way back upstairs. She took off her robe and climbed into bed, turning her face into the pillows and smelling him there. It made her miss him.
She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep now. Not after the way Bobby had walked out and left things between them so unsettled. After a few more minutes of trying not to think about it, she got back up and put on a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt before digging in the closet for her flip-flops. She fished through her purse for her keys and grabbed one of Bobby's flannel jackets from the closet on her way out the front door, almost laughing at herself as she locked it behind her.
What a picture she must make! It was fortunate that it was after two-thirty in the morning and no one was around to see her walking next door in her pajamas and flip-flops.
She had a key to Bobby's apartment, so she didn't bother with the buzzer. She let herself in through the front door of the building, and then stood quietly in front of his apartment for a moment, hesitating with the key in her hand.
Should she intrude on him now, when he had said he wanted to be alone?
Her heart said yes, so she put the key in the lock and then opened the door quietly and stepped inside.
He was sitting in the darkened living room, hunched over with his head in his hands. He looked up and turned toward the door when she walked in. He didn't say a word as she closed, then locked it behind her. He didn't move, didn't tell her to go. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something first.
She took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack before she went to him. She stood in front of his armchair and held out her hands. He lifted his, took hers gently, his fingers trembling the slightest bit as they closed around hers. He tugged her closer, and closer, until she eased herself into his lap, cuddled against him as his arms came around her.
"I didn't want to leave things that way," Emily said. She rested her head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh. "I couldn't."
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She lifted her hand, touched her finger to his lips. "Sshh…" She brushed a feathery kiss beneath his ear. "We can talk tomorrow, baby," she murmured. "Right now, I just want to hold you."
"I shouldn't have left." He stroked her hair. "I'm sorry I did that."
"It's okay, honey. You're forgiven."
He smiled as he rested his brow against hers. "You're too easy."
"No." She trailed her fingers up his back, toyed with the curls that skimmed the back of his neck. "I just love you."
"Emily." He cradled her head and brought her lips to his. "You do matter," he whispered. "Don't ever think that you don't."
She gave a quiet sigh as he wrapped her closer. His lips heated as they fused with hers, and she melted warmly into him.
Bobby woke just after sunrise. He lay on his side, facing the windows, listening to Emily's quiet breathing. She'd snuggled herself against his back in sleep, her arm curled around his waist, her hand tucked into his. He could feel the warmth of her breath between his shoulder blades.
He had a vague recollection of coming half-awake in the night to Emily shivering beside him. It was barely the wisp of a memory, but the fact that she'd been shivering violently enough to wake him told the tale of her disturbed sleep.
He slid along that thin thread of night remembrance until one moment detached itself from the fog of sleep and came clear. Emily was shivering hard enough to shake the bed, and to make her teeth chatter. She curled her body tight against his back and her arm came around his waist, her small hand reaching, searching, until it found his.
Her nightmares plagued him, too. Along with his own, though he never told her about them. He couldn't. How could he add to what she'd already been through? How could he tell her that while she dreamed of fire and death, he often dreamed of searching through miles and miles of ash-covered streets, calling her name into the emptiness? The ash was inches deep, like piles of gray snow. The silence was absolute and there wasn't a soul to be found anywhere. Only himself, pushing through ever-deepening drifts of ash, shouting her name only to have it echo eerily in the dust-filled air.
His dreams were filled with fire, too. He dreamed of searching the burning rubble for her, while flames leaped up around him and the smoke became thousands upon thousands of hands, reaching up from the pile, crying out with one ethereal voice. A chorus of angels weeping.
And then he would find Emily lying in a pile of twisted steel, her poor broken body wrapped around what was left of a piece of the stairway, her left arm dangling so that the words she had written there were starkly visible, despite the dusty soot that lay on her skin like black glitter.
If found, please call…
He wasn't aware he was crying until he felt the pillowcase getting damp beneath his cheek.
Carefully, so as not to wake Emily, he eased himself out of the bed, biting down on his lip to hold the tears back. He tucked the covers around her, then reached down to finger a lock of her hair. His chest heaving, he left her sleeping and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the shower and got into the tub, stood with his hands braced against the tiles as the hot water poured over him. It was only then that he gave in and let himself cry.
Afterward, he felt some better. The tears cleansed, purged some of the pain from his heart; but they also left him feeling achy and a little raw.
He stood in front of the mirror shaving, his thoughts turning to the previous night. He hated open conflict with people he cared about. Absolutely hated it. He wasn't going to waste time trying to analyze why. He was just going to do what he could to make it up to her.
There would be no reason to go into the office today, although going in on a Sunday wasn't unheard of when he was on call and had to catch a case, but he and Alex were loaded up already and what leads they did have would be followed up on Monday.
He crept back into the bedroom to dress quietly while he mulled over the idea that was already forming in his mind. Something he knew would please Emily, and hopefully smooth over any upset that might linger between them.
They would take a drive upstate, through the Hudson Valley where the leaves were still at their peak, then stop for lunch someplace quiet, maybe browse through antique shops and tiny village gift shops. Emily had eclectic tastes and she loved to explore flea markets and home décor shops to find those things which suited her. She liked to mix the old with the new, the elegant with the whimsical. An afternoon of foraging for those little treasures that so delighted her would certainly lift her spirits and chase the remnants of her nightmares away.
Maybe it would chase his away, too.
The more he thought about it, the better he liked the idea. They could both use a day away from the city; away from the constant reminders of what had happened there only weeks before.
Dressed now, he went to the kitchen. The first order of business was breakfast. Emily would wake up soon enough, once the coffee was brewing and the bacon frying. He'd make her eggs over easy: her favorite way to eat eggs because she liked to dip her toast in the warm, liquid yolks.
He was right about the coffee and bacon. By the time he had the first batch on a paper-towel covered plate, Emily wandered into the kitchen, wearing one of his T-shirts and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. He thought she'd head for the coffee pot, and the mug he'd set out for her. Instead, she came to wrap her arms around his middle and press her face into his back as he stood chopping green onions for his omelet.
Even now, so many weeks since their relationship had changed, her easy affection could still surprise him. He set the knife aside and turned to wrap her into his arms. "Good morning," he said as he kissed the top of her head.
"Any morning with you is a good morning," Emily replied. She hugged him tightly, the frightening images from her nightmares fading away with the morning sun and the warmth of Bobby's embrace.
He liked the way she felt, still warm from sleep; and the way she burrowed against him, her arms wrapping just a little tighter. He hadn't known you could love another person so much it would make you physically ache. And the ache was so sweet he could hardly stand it.
"I thought we could take a drive upstate today," he said as he rubbed her back and enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding her. "What do you think?"
"Mmmm…" Emily rubbed her cheek against his chest. "I like that idea. Coffee first."
"And breakfast." He nudged her head back and she looked up at him, her eyes cloudy with the remnants of sleep. "Eggs over easy?"
"Perfect." She smiled up at him, gave him a light squeeze before she drew away. "While you're playing master chef, I'm going to go brush my teeth and try to make myself more presentable."
He let her get to the kitchen doorway before he spoke. "You're beautiful in the morning, Em."
She turned and blew him a kiss, then giggled all the way to the bathroom.
The day was gorgeous, with a sky so deeply blue it could break your heart. The air was cool, with that crisp taste of autumn and the scent of fallen leaves. Away from the city, they drove along scenic roads, enjoying the view and not talking much.
Bobby drove with one hand, held Emily's with the other. He listened to her singing softly with the radio and his thoughts spun back to the night at the pub, when she had sung with Rory's band. The night that everything between them had changed.
The memory of that first kiss was still as clear and sharp as any memory he had. Everything he had held inside, kept hidden and secret from her, had come undone that night and gushed forth. He loved her from a place he had never known he had. It was a deep pool of hidden longings and wishful thoughts, tender to the touch, like a bruise.
Opening the door to that place had left him vulnerable. Every day it stood open was a risk, a chance for pain to penetrate his inner walls. Self-defense would have him close it, lock it up tight. But doing so meant hurting Emily, and he couldn't bear the thought of causing her pain.
He didn't know which was worse. The fear of his own vulnerability, or the fact that self-protection meant shutting Emily out and breaking her heart.
He pushed those thoughts away, forced his mind somewhere else. He smiled when Emily turned up the radio and urged him to sing with her. He stopped the car whenever she saw something she wanted to photograph, or a shop she wanted to browse through.
She bought some knick-knacks from an antique shop, and a set of glass Christmas ornaments that were hand-blown. He watched her exclaim over beautiful old dishes and then run her hands over the smooth, well-worn wood of a country porch swing.
He held her hand as they walked through a used bookstore, and various gift shops, and with every step, every moment, he felt that door inching open wider. He struggled with the urge to close it again.
Back in the car, they came upon a scenic overlook, which gave a stunning view of the Hudson River and of Bear Mountain across the river. He pulled into the lot and parked so Emily could take pictures. There were others out there, too. Families standing together to have their picture taken, or couples standing at the stone wall, hands clasped as they took in the scenery.
He watched Emily snap pictures, her delight evident as she aimed her lens and took in the boldly colored leaves, the rich texture of the evergreens, the span of the river as it curved off in either direction.
One more picture, and then Emily slid her camera back into her purse and stood simply taking in the beauty around her. She felt Bobby behind her, felt his hands on her shoulders. She lifted one of hers to brush her fingers along his knuckles.
"Autumn is so beautiful," she said. "A season of dying…and it's one of nature's most stunning moments."
"A season of dying," he repeated, and felt a chill run over his skin, despite the corduroy jacket he wore over his flannel shirt. "I've never thought of it that way."
"The leaves go brilliant with breathtaking colors, giving of themselves completely before they fall to the ground and die. The first frost comes and kills the flowers, and the trees prepare for hibernation. Fall is the death of nature. Winter is her sleep. And in the spring comes her awakening, just as brilliant as the fall, with colors more beautifully stunning than the eye can stand. Everything is lush and alive."
He couldn't have said why her words filled his heart with an ache and choked his throat with sudden emotion. He slid his arms around her waist, drew her back against him and kissed the top of her head. "And summer?"
Emily leaned her head back against his chest and breathed deeply, exhaled slowly. "Summer," she said softly, "is her dance."
He smiled, his vision blurring a bit as he stared across the river at the ribbons of red and gold that decorated the mountain, interspersed with chunks of dark green. He felt too much. He needed to close that door, just a little.
Emily's words from the night before came back to him.
You want to know why all of your relationships fail, Bobby? This is why.
The truth of those words had penetrated then, and they did so now. He resisted the urge to wrangle with that door. Instead, he wrapped Emily a little closer, leaned over to put his mouth close to her ear. "I closed up on you last night," he murmured. "I'm sorry."
She rubbed her hands lightly over his arms, where they rested at her waist. "It was self-defense," she said. "I know that." She turned around slowly, reached up to touch his face with her fingertips. "And you should know that you don't need those defenses with me."
"Yeah." He hugged her to him for a long moment. "I'm learning."
"I really do understand, Bobby," she said, drawing back to look up into his eyes. "It wasn't the fact that you had to work the case. I told you…I might not always like it, but I understand that part. It's just that, when you're home, I need you to really be there, you know? It would be unrealistic for me to think that you'd never work while you were at home…but you don't seem to have an 'off' switch. Sometimes you have to unplug."
"Em…I don't work all the time…"
"No…you're right. And I don't mean to make it sound like you do." She sighed, gave his back a gentle rub. She kept her eyes on his so he would know her heart. "I know you're not used to having someone there all the time when you come home. When we were just two friends hanging out together, it was different. The expectations were different. Changing that has been an adjustment for both us…but for you more so than me, I think."
God, he loved her! She did get it.
"I'll work on that," he said softly, stroking her hair and leaning down to put a tender kiss on her mouth.
"Good." Emily smiled up at him. "And I'll work on exercising my patience muscles."
He gave a small laugh, pulled her in and hugged her again. "I meant to tell you…that was only a quarter of a tantrum last night. I suppose I should be glad I didn't get the full measure, but I have to be honest…I think your tantrums are kind of cute. Even if I was in the line of fire this time."
"Oh?" She stepped back to reach for his hand so they could walk back to the car. "You don't mind the slamming doors and stomping feet, huh?" And then she laughed. "I hope you really mean that because I don't think it'll be changing anytime soon."
He stopped beside the car and opened the door for her, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. When he drew away, her eyes were soft and brimming with her heart. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said. And he meant it.
They drove north, stopping once more along the road near a horse farm so that Emily could snap some pictures. She was like a child in her excitement, laughing as she clucked to one of the horses, a chestnut mare with a flowing black mane. The horse was curious enough to come to the fence and sniff at Emily as she held out her hand.
Bobby took the camera from her and stood back, watching her with the mare. She was so lovely, her eyes sparkling as she spoke softly to the horse while stroking her long mane. Quietly, so as not to disturb the moment, he lifted the camera and captured them, just as the mare touched her nose to Emily's cheek.
They were beautiful, the two of them, standing in the bright autumn sunshine, the trees ablaze with color all around them. He didn't want to interrupt the silent communication that seemed to be passing between them. Girl talk, from one beauty to another, in the secret language of females that he thought must be innate among all mammals.
A distant whistle brought the mare's head up and she pranced regally in place for a moment, nodding her magnificent head toward Emily, as if saying she had to go now. Emily reached up, gave the mare's neck one last stroke.
"Go on, girl," she said. "Someone's looking for you."
With a tiny snort, the mare tossed her head and turned about, began to trot smartly across the pasture, regal and full of the grace of a show horse. Emily sighed as she watched her go, and wondered how it would feel to ride her; to have that enormous, wonderful creature carry her across the fields and streams of the countryside.
She felt Bobby take her hand and turned to smile at him as they stood at the fence together, watching the mare as she went. "She's so beautiful," she said. "Look at her…the way she moves. Like a queen."
Bobby leaned to put a kiss on her temple. "So what were the two of you talking about?" he asked.
Emily looked up at him and grinned. "Girl stuff."
"That's what I thought."
With their arms still around each other, they went back to his car and continued their drive. By mid-afternoon they were in Rhinebeck, strolling in and out of shops and taking in the village atmosphere.
They were parked near the Rhinebeck Department Store, and once they made their way back to it, Emily made a beeline for the front door. Bobby laughed at her as he followed, knowing that he was in for at least an hour of watching her try on clothes and shoes. He didn't mind one bit. It was worth every moment to see her happy, and to see the light back in her eyes again.
Emily managed to find a pair of casual slacks she liked, a pair of jeans, three blouses, and an assortment of bra-and-panty sets, the latter of which he teasingly asked her to model for him. She giggled like a schoolgirl at the suggestion, and then tugged him into the men's department and proceeded to dig through racks of casual shirts and sweaters, holding things out for him to examine.
He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but she ended up buying him two sweaters and three shirts, plus two pairs of jeans and some boxer shorts. She never looked at the price tags and when he tried, she playfully swatted his hands away. By the time they were done, he was carrying two shopping bags full of their spoils and Emily was wearing the most satisfied smile he had seen in weeks.
"I think we need to stop at the car before we go any further," he told her as they walked outside. "I'm out of hands and I'm not naïve enough to think you're done here."
With a girlish laugh, Emily slid her hand into the pocket of his jeans and fished for his keys. "You're right," she teased, purposely digging around his pocket so she could run her fingers along his thigh.
"You keep doing that, you'll get us both in trouble," he said just as her fingers brushed against the result of all that extensive fishing she was doing. "I'll drop these bags right here and shock the hell out of all these well-heeled weekenders."
She snagged his keys and whisked them out of his pocket, playfully dancing ahead of him, just out of reach. She turned around and walked backward for a moment, enjoying the view. She couldn't think of anything sexier than Bobby when he was turned on and couldn't do anything about it.
"You'll end up crashing into something, walking backwards like that." He grinned at her and she grinned back. The fun of the day was just what they'd needed.
They stopped at the car and stowed the bags in the trunk, then headed back toward the corner of Market and Mill Street, where Emily spotted The Beekman Arms Inn across the street.
"Oh look at it!" she exclaimed as she reached into her purse for her camera. "It's gorgeous!"
The colonial style architecture and front gardens charmed her as she stood on the sidewalk, aiming her camera, trying to find the best angle.
She snapped a picture or two from across the street and then they walked over to get a closer look. The sign declared the inn to be the oldest in America, dating back to 1766. The inn also had a restaurant, The Beekman Tavern, and one look at Emily's face was all Bobby needed to lead her inside to inquire about the availability of a table.
"I'm not sure…" The maître-d glanced down at the reservation book, his brow furrowed. "Ah, yes. There's been a cancellation. We do have a table available. It will be just a few moments."
The dining room he eventually led them to was wonderfully colonial with it's wide-planked wood floors and dark, Federalist style furnishings. To Emily, it looked like a man's room. A place for cigar smoke and political debates.
Bobby pulled out Emily's chair, then took the one to her right. He liked watching her take in the ambiance as she let her eyes roam about, glancing at this or that. She opened her menu after a moment, her lips pursed as she considered her choices. His smile widened as he sat enjoying her.
Emily felt his eyes on her. She looked up and found him watching her with the softest expression in his brown eyes. "What?"
"I just like watching you." He reached out to touch her cheek as it turned pink. "Sometimes you blush so easily, Em." He trailed his fingers along her jaw, delighted when she ducked her head and looked at him from beneath her lashes. "I like it when you do that," he said softly.
Emily had to clear her throat before she could ask, "Do what?"
"Go all soft and shy like that." He brushed his thumb lightly over her lips. "It's sweet."
At the quiet sound of a throat clearing beside them, Emily looked up to find their waiter holding a glass pitcher of water. She smiled at him, and noticed that he didn't to seem to mind their open display of affection at all, as he was smiling back at her.
They placed their orders, and Bobby ordered a bottle of wine. Emily looked at him curiously, waiting until their waiter came back with it, uncorked it for them, and then left to put in their food orders.
"So which one of us gets the half-glass so we can drive home?" she asked.
Bobby smiled at her as he poured them each a full glass. "Actually, I thought we could stay the night," he told her.
"But…" Emily was surprised. "You have to be at work tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes." He took her hand, turned it over and traced his fingertips over her palm. "I can go in a little late. It's only a two hour drive back, so I can still get there by nine or so, and you don't have rehearsal until noon."
His touch was light and sensual and sent tiny little shivers up her spine. "You already got us a room, didn't you?" she asked.
"I did," he answered. "When you went to the ladies room earlier, I asked about a room for the night."
"Wow." She shook her head. "You did something completely spontaneous." She leaned a little closer, tilted her head slightly. "Okay…who are you and what did you do with Bobby?"
She made him laugh. "Let's just say…I'm opening new doors."
"I'll say. If I'd had any idea you'd go all 'spur of the moment' on me, I would've at least brought my toothbrush!"
"There's a drugstore right down the street," he said. "And today's little shopping spree took care of a change of clothes."
Emily found herself grinning, and feeling like an adventurous teenager who had just succeeded in sneaking off with her boyfriend. "This is so great!" she giggled. "If this is what happens when we have an argument, I think we should schedule one every couple of weeks."
He gave a rueful laugh. "No thanks. I think I can manage a spontaneous weekend or two without having to fight with you first."
She squeezed his hand lightly as she took a sip of her wine, let it settle on her tongue before she swallowed it. "It wasn't so bad, though, was it?" she asked. "Talking about it today, I mean."
"No," he admitted. "It wasn't. Mostly because you don't hold grudges. You made the first move, when you came after me last night. You let me off the hook, Em, and made it easier for me."
"That's what you do when you love someone." Emily looked deeply into his eyes. "You forgive easily and you don't carry around a record of every slight or harsh word."
"You have an extra dose of forgiveness," he told her, brushing his fingers over her wrist. "You should give lessons ." He felt her pulse begin to jump as he held her gaze. After a moment, he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I'm going to spend the night making love to you."
She felt the heat climbing her neck at the whispered words, and the warmth of his breath against her ear. When he looked into her eyes again, she saw the desire already burning in his. "I like that idea," she murmured as she picked up her wine. "A lot."
Their food arrived shortly and everything was wonderfully presented, and just as delicious as it looked. They talked about their wedding plans, and Emily found that, as usual, Bobby was very accommodating. He liked the idea of flowers on the church pews, but told her to pick which ones, and he agreed with the idea of asking Rory's band to play at their reception. He wasn't picky about the food for the reception, either. His only stipulation was that the wedding cake be chocolate.
He was much more interested in their honeymoon, and teased her mercilessly about picking someplace remote because he didn't want any distractions. They were going to take two weeks together before she had to leave for the company's European tour and he made it abundantly clear that his plan was to do nothing but make love with her during that time.
By the time they finished eating and picked up their room key, Emily was not only blushing again, she was also completely in the mood for whatever Bobby had in mind for the evening.
First they had to walk back to the drugstore to pick up the few things they might need for the night, and then they got back into the car to pull it around to the lot behind the inn. They carried their things back inside and up the stairs to their room, which was small and cozy, and beautifully decorated in the colonial style.
A gorgeous, four-poster oak bed dominated the room. There was a small oak bureau and matching night tables, and a pretty chintz-covered chair and small fringed hassock in a little nook near the window, with a tiny table and tall reading lamp beside it. An small oak desk and rush-bottomed chair were tucked into an alcove near the private bath. It held a candlestick lamp and various brochures about local interests, plus a small clock radio. The colors of the room were soft and soothing; various shades of blue and pale green, mixed with soft white sheers at the window and smooth white sheets on the bed.
The bed itself was an inviting mass of fine linens and a fluffy duvet, with four plump pillows piled against the headboard. The covers were turned back but instead of a mint there was a single red rose on the pillow.
Bobby set their things on the floor near the bureau and watched Emily go to the bed and pick up the rose he had asked to be laid there. When she turned to look at him, she was smiling, and brushing the petals against her cheek. He went to her and took her free hand, lifted it to his lips.
"Do you want more wine?" he asked as he led her to the chair and eased her into it, then tugged the hassock over and lifted her feet onto it.
For the first time Emily noticed the bottle in the silver bucket on the bureau, along with two glasses. They hadn't finished the bottle at dinner and she realized now that Bobby had planned all along for them to finish it alone in their room. It was clear by the way he was looking at her that he had been completely serious when he told her his plans for the evening.
"Another glass would be nice." She smiled up at him. "What else have you got up your sleeve?"
His lips quirked into a lopsided smile that served to make him look even more mischievous. "Nothing," he said vaguely and went to turn on the small radio, fiddling with the dial until he found a station playing light jazz.
"Now why don't I believe you?" Emily chuckled as she laid the rose on the tiny table at her elbow and watched him pick up the bottle to pour her some wine.
When Bobby held out the glass for her, she took it slowly, her eyes never leaving his as their fingers brushed, sending a pleasant shiver over her skin. She watched him slip off his shoes and outer shirt, so he wore only his jeans and T-shirt. He knelt down in front of the hassock and untied her sneakers before he took them off and set them aside. Then he slid her socks off as well and took her right foot into his big, warm hands.
Fascinated, she settled back into the chair as he began to massage the sole of her foot. Somehow he managed to find just the right spot with his thumb and as he applied a small amount of pressure and rubbed his thumb in a slow circle, she let out a long, deep sigh.
She felt herself relaxing, all of her muscles going slack as Bobby's long fingers wrapped around her foot and his thumbs continued those slow, massaging circles. "Mmmm…that's nice," she murmured, as he finished with her right foot and started on her left. "I'm thinking we should make this a nightly ritual."
"I might be able to work something out." He ran his finger lightly along her instep and made her giggle, then rubbed his thumbs over the ball of her foot. "I thought dancers were supposed to have horrible feet," he said. "For what you put them through, they look pretty good."
"That's because a lot of dancers don't take care of their feet the way they should. I'm careful with my feet. They're the number one tool of my trade." She looked at her foot, so small in his big hands. "I see my podiatrist regularly, and I get pedicures every week to keep my toenails neat and my skin in good shape. Calluses are important to toughen my feet, but if they get out of control then my feet are a mess. Likewise with wearing the wrong shoes. I wear slippers and toe shoes that don't mash my toes together, and I have to do the same with my street shoes. Luckily, I don't have wide feet, so it's not hard for me to find good fitting shoes."
"You amaze me, Emily."
Her face heated a little and she lowered her lashes. "Why do you say that?"
"You approach everything you do with the same determination, and the desire to not only do it well, but do it the right way." He stroked his hand over her foot. "You push yourself hard, but you do it because you love dancing."
He stood up then and took her hands, lifting her from the chair so he could tug her into his arms. "Speaking of dancing," he said. "Except for that night at Noonan's, we've never danced together."
Emily smiled up at him as she circled his neck with her arms. She slid her fingers into the soft richness of his hair and nudged him down for a kiss. The music emitting from the small radio was just right with its low, thrumming rhythm and sensuous saxophone. They swayed slowly together as the saxophone wept, and she felt her body beginning to tingle. Bobby's hands slid up and down her back, his fingers trailing along her spine as he deepened the kiss.
He tugged her shirt from the waist of her jeans, sliding his hands beneath the cotton fabric to caress her skin lightly before he drew back and began to undo the buttons, one by one. He held her eyes with his, watched the heat that flashed into them as he slid the shirt from her shoulders, his fingers following it, brushing down her arms as the shirt whispered to the floor.
The white lace of her bra sloped sweetly between her breasts, coming to a tantalizing point where it clasped in front. He used two fingers to pop the clasp open, smiling at her quiet gasp as he pushed the straps from her shoulders and the bra fell away. He cupped her breasts in his hands, teasing a sigh out of her as he stroked those tiny, sensitive points with his thumbs.
When he bent to run his tongue along her collarbone, Emily gave a quiet moan of delight and let her hands glide down his sides until she got her hands on the hem of his T-shirt. She wanted her hands on his skin and she lifted his shirt, tugging it over his head even as he was lifting her off her feet.
She was wrapped around him as they fell onto the bed together, and suddenly his mouth was everywhere. Even as his hands were unfastening her jeans, his mouth was traveling across her breasts, his tongue making tantalizing circles around her nipples, his teeth nipping lightly here and there, sending wild tingles down her body. They settled between her thighs where they throbbed and ached until she was writhing beneath him, her breath coming out in jagged pants.
He couldn't get enough of her. There was always fresh need, always more he wanted. He stripped her jeans away, then her panties, gripping her hands in his when she sought to do the same to him.
"Let me," he whispered huskily.
Lost in the heat of that wonderful mouth, Emily could only moan her consent as he explored every inch of her, lighting her on fire from the inside out. Down over her belly, to fasten his mouth on the center of those sweet, throbbing aches. Her hands flexed in his as he drove her up and up, using only his mouth, and when he pushed her over the edge, she gave a soft cry as he released her hands so that she could reach for him, even as he took her up again.
She arched toward him, her hands cupping his head. Blind to anything else, she let him give her all that he wanted to until she was quaking with the onslaught of sensation and whimpering his name.
To see her undone made him want to give her more. His heart swelled with love as he moved slowly up her body, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses all the way to her neck as she tugged at the zipper of his jeans. He used one of his hands to help her, and then he covered her body with his and feasted on the fragrant skin of her throat.
More. She wanted more of him.
Wrapping her legs around him, Emily twisted her body and in one swift move managed to roll them both over so that she was lying on top of him. "My turn," she said in a throaty whisper, delighted with his surprise at finding himself underneath her.
She held his hands and pushed them back onto the bed as she took his mouth with hers, recognizing for the first time the power she had over him as a woman.
She loved his body. Long and lean and wonderful, his skin smooth, and covered in all the right places with fine, soft hair. She gloried in the beauty of him as she stroked her hands over his chest, leaving a trail of kisses along his throat as she worked her way down to his collarbone, and then lower still.
She explored him slowly, thrilling at each gasp, at every tiny sound of pleasure and surprise. It was her doing that pulled those sounds from his throat, that caused him to groan in quiet desperation as she teased her tongue over his nipples, slid her hand slowly down over his belly, and then lower. When she began to stroke him gently, he fisted one of his hands in her hair and gave a sharp gasp that ended on a moan the likes of which she had never heard from him.
"Emily…God…what are you doing to me…"
"Loving you," she whispered and then brazenly replaced her hand with her mouth.
It was almost more than he could bear, the soft heat of her mouth as she caressed him, took him to places he'd never been. Lost in the dark delight of her lips and tongue, he felt weightless and ethereal, and yet more alive than he had ever been.
"Oh God…Emily…" His breath was ragged, his heart thundering. His hands fisted in the sheets as he arched toward her. "Now…please…"
Feeling wonderfully bold and triumphant, she rose over him, watched his face as she lowered herself and took him in. His eyes were blind with passion as his arms reached for her. She let him draw her down so that she could press her lips to his ear as she began to rock gently.
He gave a strangled moan and grasped her hips in a hungry, desperate grip, urging her on.
"I want all of you," she whispered. "Give me everything."
Yes, oh yes, was all he could think. He had no choice but to give her everything. He was melting into her as she slid her mouth warmly down the side of his neck, then back up to capture his with such sweetness that his eyes stung.
Braced over him so that she could look down at his face, she took him slowly, her eyes locked on his as he matched her languid pace. He was whispering her name, his hands cupping her head now, his long fingers curling into her hair.
Lost. He was so lost in her, in the wonder of what she made him feel. With a soft groan, he tugged her back down to bury his face in her neck. He said her name again as he opened his heart wide and surrendered himself completely.
Emily felt him yielding, felt him letting go, and it filled her with inexpressible joy. With her lips against his ear, she whispered words of love as they climbed slowly upward. There was a moment of pure blissful connection as they hovered there, just at the edge of that glittering summit, and then, with twin cries of delight, they slid over it together.
She lay on top of him, her body still trembling, and sighed with quiet satisfaction. Bobby's fingers were making lazy circles on her back and she lifted her head from where it rested on his shoulder and kissed his mouth gently.
He moved one of his hands to cradle her head as he kissed her back. He thought maybe they could stay like this for awhile. Forever would be a good start.
"More wine?" Emily asked with a teasing nibble as he kept kissing her.
"Yeah." He kissed her again. "In a minute." And again. "A long minute."
He was quivering beneath her, evidence of what she had done to him. She moved to lay her head back down on his shoulder with a murmur of contentment. His arms enveloped her as he angled his head against hers.
"This is the scary part," he said softly. It was all he could manage before emotion overtook him. The sudden tears that filled his eyes were not entirely welcome, but there didn't seem to be much he could do about them just then.
Emily brushed a kiss against his shoulder. She liked the smell of his skin, the warm musk of it. "Why scary?"
"I'm so in love with you, Em," he murmured thickly. "So deep in love with you." He closed his eyes and held her tighter. "You make me feel so much."
She combed her fingers through his hair, lifted her head to put tiny kisses on his eyelids. "No more walls, Bobby," she whispered. "You don't need them with me."
He opened his eyes, reached up to frame her face with his hands, bring her mouth down to his. His heart was so full of her, the ache so sweet.
"You're right," he said softly. He kissed her again, slow and deep. "I'm working on remembering that, Em. Every day."
She smiled at him. "We're making progress then."
She eased herself away from him, climbed gingerly off the bed and went to pour more wine into one of the glasses. When she looked over at Bobby, he was lying on his side with his head propped on his hand, a sensuous smile curving his lips.
"I should paint you like that," she said as she walked back to the bed and handed him the glass. "Looking all sexy and satisfied with yourself."
Bobby set the glass on the night table and reached for her, catching her into his arms and pulling her down onto the bed so he could get his mouth on hers again. He took the kiss deep, drawing her breath out on a long sigh.
"Later," he murmured as he sat back to straddle her, then dip his fingers into the wine. "I'm not done with you yet." He let the wine drip onto her flushed skin. "We still have hours until we have to sleep."
When he lowered his head to run his tongue lazily along the wine trailing across her belly, Emily sucked in a breath, her hands lifting to cup his head. "Oh yes," she breathed. "We do."
Bobby woke just before dawn. With Emily curled snugly against his chest, he listened to her quiet breathing and knew she slept as peacefully as he had. No nightmares…for either of them.
They had needed this time away, even if it had only been for a day. It had given them a chance to just be together, to enjoy each other, and he wanted to do it again. He thought he could get used to this kind of togetherness.
Now that he let himself think about it, coming home to her at night could be just like this. He had to do better about being there in mind as well as body. If she was willing to be understanding about his job, and the fact that he did have to work at home sometimes, then he could find a way to set aside time just for her in the midst of that, even when his caseload was heavy.
He wasn't his father.
So long ago, he had vowed that when he had a wife, when he had a family, he wouldn't neglect them. That he would do his best to always be there for them. He had thought then that it would be simple. As simple as making a promise to himself.
It wasn't so simple.
The demons, held at bay by years of avoiding intimate entanglements, were haunting him now, poking at him, telling him he wouldn't measure up. That he would always fall short.
Emily murmured in her sleep and cuddled closer. He bowed his face into her hair with a quiet sigh. Loving her made him want fight to keep that promise he'd made so long ago. He would just have to push his way through the fear that he wouldn't be able to.
The light beyond the windows was brightening now. He shifted so that he could see Emily's face as she slept. He traced the fine line of her jaw, stroked his hand over her hair. He loved the way her lashes lay against her cheek as she slept. Those same lashes that she would often lower shyly when he teased her. As brash as Emily could be, he was the one who could make her blush and giggle like a schoolgirl. He loved that.
With his fingers tangled in the softness of her hair, he brushed his lips over her cheek, and put tiny kisses on her eyelids, the way she had done to him the night before. "You're so beautiful, Em," he whispered.
She made a quiet sound, something like a sigh, and then she spoke in the whisper of dreams. "Touch me." Another sigh. "Touch me…"
He trailed his lips over her cheek, down over her jaw. "It's your dream," he whispered, letting his hand slide down between them. "You can have whatever you want."
Still in that place between sleep and wakefulness, Emily sighed again as those long fingers began to stroke her slowly, gently. "You," she murmured. "I want you."
He took her slowly, savoring the taste and texture of loving her. He felt more connected to her now; and more vulnerable. It scared him to feel her sinking so deeply into him, to feel himself opening up. And yet, he couldn't stop it from happening, nor did he really want to.
When they lay wrapped together afterward, he couldn't find his voice. His throat closed on him, just the way it had the night before. He wasn't so sure he was going to be able to handle being so close. There was no shield between them. All of his walls were down. There was nothing standing between his past wounds and anything that might poke at them.
Emily snuggled in, happy and content in the warmth of his body. Unaware of what was happening inside of him, she trailed her fingers through the soft hair of his chest. "We should get up," she said. "It's nearly six."
He swallowed the lump in his throat, made sure to steady his voice before he spoke. "Guess we blew breakfast."
"Yeah…we'll have to grab something on the way down the road." Lifting herself onto her elbow, Emily leaned over to kiss him, letting her lips linger on his. "Making love with you is well worth missing breakfast for."
His smile was not only genuine, he felt it stretching from ear-to-ear. "Likewise," he told her, and kissed her once more before they got up to head for the shower.
The bathroom wasn't large, but it was no smaller than the one in his apartment. While Bobby turned on the shower, Emily brushed her teeth. He got in and ducked his head under the hot spray as the steam rose to envelope him. A sudden draft tickled the back of his legs as the glass door swung open, and Emily stepped into the shower behind him.
He gave a soft groan as she pressed her naked body against his, her fingers trailing down over his belly as she stood behind him. "Em…" His breath caught when her fingers closed around him and she began to stroke and tease. "We don't have much time…"
Emily pressed her lips against his back. "Then we'll make it a quickie."
In a move that was lightning fast, Bobby turned around and grabbed her into his arms, lifting her right off her feet. With his hands gripping her hips, he pressed her against the tiled wall and crushed his lips to hers. "A quickie," he growled against her mouth, and plunged into her.
It was wild and passionate, and just a little rough. Emily wrapped herself around him and let herself go, let him take her where he would. His mouth was hot and greedy, his teeth nipping and nibbling as he drove them both to a climax that left them breathless.
"Emily…" He could do no more than say her name as he pressed his face into her neck while the water poured down on them and he waited for his heart to stop bouncing against his ribs.
She felt wonderfully sore now, and knew she'd probably have bruises on her hips. She didn't care. She was learning quickly that there were so many ways they could please each other, and all of them didn't involve a bed, or soft lighting, or even a lot of time.
"I think we should try your car next," she said, still a little breathless. Her arms were still hooked loosely around his neck, her body plastered wetly against his.
He choked at that. "My car?"
She managed to lift her head so she could smile sweetly at him. "Don't tell me you've never had sex in a car?"
"Well…yeah…I mean…Emily!" He felt his face getting hot. "It was…you know…"
"A long time ago," she finished and erupted into giggles. "You're so funny, Bobby! I'm not asking for details, you know." She sent him a sly smile and wiggled her hips a little, which made him groan out loud and dig his fingers into her hips. "Aside from all that, I'm a quick study."
His breath was caught somewhere in the middle of his chest as she wriggled against him, her eyes darkly lit with mischief. "Oh yeah." His voice was husky with fresh arousal. "You are."
When he finally let her down, she staggered a little, giggling as he steadied her with his hands on her hips. "You better watch where you put those hands, big boy," she laughed. "You'll get us started again."
"Not this time," he said, and handed her the soap. "We have to get moving."
They laughed their way through the shower, with Emily making suggestive remarks and teasing him until he thought he'd go mad. They managed to get dressed in what Bobby called "record time". Emily laughed and gave his shoulder a light smack as he picked up their shopping bags, chuckling at her on his way toward the door.
The laughter felt good, and seemed to dispel that look of apprehension that she had seen on Bobby's face earlier, in bed. She hadn't said anything to him about it, but she hadn't missed the emotional tremor in his tone after they made love, or the way he tried to hide his eyes from her until he managed to collect himself.
She understood his private struggles better than he thought. Enough so that she didn't have to press him to talk about them when he didn't want to.
The drive home was quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet. They didn't talk much because there wasn't really a need to. Emily was happy that they had managed the time alone together, and she knew that Bobby had enjoyed it. If their lovemaking the night before had opened him up more than he was comfortable with, he seemed to be making peace with that fact.
In fact, he was doing his best to squelch his urge to draw back and rebuild at least one of those walls that had come crumbling down. He didn't need them with Emily, and he couldn't keep them in place if he wanted their life together to work. They couldn't make a marriage if he was going to hold back parts of himself from her. And it wouldn't be fair. She held nothing back from him, so how could he do that to her?
Emily's hand squeezed his lightly, bringing him from his thoughts. "You think any harder and your eyeballs will pop out of your head."
He laughed, spared a quick glance at her before turning his eyes back to the road. "You have a way with words, Em."
"Do you want to talk? Or should I get a napkin ready to catch your eyeballs?"
"It's nothing." He made light of his heavy thoughts and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "I'm just…what do you call it…circling in my head."
"If you keep it up much longer, you'll make yourself dizzy." She let go of his hand and reached up to dance her fingers along his temple, then back through his hair. "I love you, Bobby."
He took her hand again, and brought it to his cheek. For a moment he simply held it there, and then he lowered it to rest against his chest. "I feel so good whenever you say that, Emily," he said quietly, making a small circle over his heart with their joined hands. "Right here."
Emily leaned her head against his arm with a happy sigh, her hand warm in his. "I feel good whenever I say it, too."
Traffic was light until they neared the city, and Bobby drove them straight to One Police Plaza. He always kept a change of clothes in his locker, at least one suit and one outfit of street clothes, so there was no need to drive all the way home first.
When he pulled up at the curb, Emily opened the glove box and pulled out his holstered gun and his badge. While he took the gun from her, she ran her thumb lightly over the gold shield, and over the numbers that identified him as a detective: 4376. She had long since memorized them, though she didn't know why.
She traced her fingers over them and said a silent prayer for his safety and well-being, as she did every day. After she handed him his badge, she got out of the car to wait for him to come around for a hug. She held him tightly, framing his face with her hands as she drew back and looked into his eyes.
"Safety first," she said softly, as she often did when seeing him off to work.
Bobby bent to kiss her mouth tenderly, then leaned to whisper in her ear. "Always."
He stood watching her as she got into his car and pulled carefully away from the curb, and had a sudden, jolting memory of the day she had driven her blue Mustang away from that same curb. The day their whole world had changed. The day he had feared he'd lost her forever.
He shook it off as he turned and headed through the plaza toward the guard shack, though he knew the memories of that day would forever haunt him.
Emily still hadn't gotten another car to replace hers. She had wanted to wait for the insurance company to straighten things out, but that was taking longer than they had thought it would. Apparently, the insurance companies were very concerned with fraud stemming from people trying to take advantage of the attacks to file claims, and the paperwork and red tape was piling up. They were planning to go shopping for a new car for her after Swan Lake finished its run in a couple of weeks. Emily had tired long since of the runaround she was getting from the insurance company.
For now, they shared his, though he normally took the train to work anyway. Emily usually drove herself in because she liked the ability to do what she wanted without keeping a driver waiting, though she had used a car service a few times in the past few weeks when she was only going to the dance studio and then home. She had tried to take the train only once since the attacks and found herself unable to go further underground than the first flight of steps.
It hurt him, somewhere down deep, to see her suffering and to know that he couldn't just fix it for her. The morning she had tried to take the train, she had called him at work, choking back tears as she explained that she was taking a cab into the city and that she would meet him at his office after rehearsal. Going underground was still too much for her, and she always used the bridges to get into the city now, instead of the tunnels.
A side effect of nearly being buried alive, he thought now, and felt that familiar twinge in his heart. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly as he stood in front of the heavy glass doors of police headquarters.
He just wanted her to feel safe again.
And just as he always told Emily, Dr. Olivet had told him that it would take time. He had spoken to her once, when she had stopped by the squad room for a consult with Captain Deakins about a case. He'd wanted her advice on getting Emily to talk to someone professionally and, typical of a psychiatrist, she had asked him a few pointed questions about his own feelings as well, which had made him uncomfortable. He had fudged his way through most of that conversation, and he knew that she'd known it. The fact that she didn't press him about it only added to his respect of her, not only as a colleague but as a person.
Time, he thought now. Just time.
He took another breath, exhaled slowly, reached out to open the door. Deliberately turning his thoughts to the case at hand, he walked inside and let it swing silently shut behind him.
