Janet Evanovich: The Rocky Road to Romance

The mystery of her harassment had been solved. Just as they’d all suspected, it hadn’t been the Roach. It had been the work of a rival drug dealer who’d hoped to pin additional charges on the Roach and get him off the street for good. Elsie’s Cadillac had finally been returned, but that, too, was missing from the lot. Elsie had gone home. She was no longer on twenty-four-hour duty. At least she would see Elsie on Monday, Daisy thought. Steve had decided that she and Elsie made a good traffic team and had changed Elsie’s job description to temporary assistant traffic reporter.

The town house was silent behind her. No stereo blasting away, no television, no refrigerator door opening and closing. Her parents had come home from Texas and collected Kevin. She was alone, and her life was tidy again, she told herself. The realization provoked a flutter of excitement in her chest. Even if she never used her degree in geriatric counseling, she was determined to finish her thesis and defend it. She needed two months of hard work to get the job done, she’d decided.

Steve rested his back against a wooden tub of geraniums and looked at Daisy. “You’re getting ready to kick me out of your life, aren’t you?”

“I need two months to myself.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t an entirely honest answer. True, she didn’t know for sure how she’d feel in two months when the burden of her doctorate degree was lifted from her shoulders, but she suspected she’d buy a can of furniture polish for his kitchen table and beg him to marry her immediately. She glanced down at the ring on her finger and when she spoke her voice was low. “I’d like to keep the ring.”

A smile softened his mouth. “I suppose that’s a good sign.”

He stayed very still against the geraniums, but it was a relaxed, contented sort of stillness, Daisy thought. Their eyes locked, and a visual caress passed between them. “I love you,” she told him.

“There’s all kinds of love,” he teased. “Am I going to have to wait two months before I find out what kind of love we’re talking about?”

“You could spend the night with me and in the morning you can draw your own conclusions.”

It was much more than he’d expected, and he had no intention of wasting his opportunity. The kitchen table had been exciting, but this was what he’d really wanted. He’d wanted the chance to make love to her. He wanted soft lights, candles, lots of time, lots of privacy, and a comfortable bed where they could spend the night locked in each other’s arms.

He leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled back. “There’s a catch,” she said.

“I’m not surprised.”

“I need time to think, and I need to get my dissertation done. I don’t want to have to worry about your secret weapon. After tomorrow morning my body is off-limits to all of your sneaky, subversive maneuverings.”

“So this is like a last meal for a condemned man?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ll take it.”

She didn’t have candles, but the lighting in her bedroom was dim. A small table lamp with a periwinkle shade filled the room with soft light and dusky shadows. The double bed had been hers as a girl. The comforter was white and fluffy. The sheets were smooth with age, their big pink flowers faded to pale shades of rose. A small television sat on a cherrywood dresser. The only other piece of furniture was a padded rocking chair.

She drew the curtains closed and felt shy as she faced him. Their previous lovemaking had been so explosive, it hadn’t left time for nerves or self-conscious fumblings. There were great advantages to fast lovemaking, she suddenly realized. There were advantages to total darkness, nitrous oxide, and abstinence, too. She’d had fantasies of peeling her clothes off in an erotic strip, but now that the moment was upon her she was paralyzed with stage fright. She found herself fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt and rolled her eyes in disgust.

Steve kicked his docksiders off and slid onto the bed. He arranged the pillows behind his back, took the channel changer in his hand, and turned the television on. “You look like you’re thinking about jumping out the window.”

“Just one of many options.”

He patted the spot next to him. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you. You’d land in the azalea bush. Your landlord would make you pay for a new one. Why don’t you come sit here instead?”

“I’m a little nervous,” she said, crawling onto the bed.

“With good reason,” he told her. “Since I’m honor-bound not to use my secret weapon for two months after this, I intend to empty out the arsenal tonight.”

Daisy giggled. “You’ll have to give me directions if you want to try anything fancy. My education is limited.”

She was wearing shorts, and her smooth bare leg brushed against his, causing his pulse to quicken. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close. He wasn’t going to rush into things this time, he told himself, but already he could feel desire burning into him.

He ran his hand the length of her rib cage, letting it rest on the curve of her hip. She tilted her face toward him and he kissed her, lightly, playfully. The kiss grew more serious, but he held back, seducing her slowly. He skimmed kisses along the side of her neck and told her he loved her. His hands were gentle as they ranged over her, heating the skin beneath her clothes. He kissed her again, deeper this time, teasing her with his tongue. The kisses were long and intoxicating, filled with love and promising passion. He felt her hands flatten on his chest, felt her press against him. He fought to move slowly but control was slipping away. He noticed with some satisfaction that her control had already completely evaporated.

He lowered her shorts slowly, inch by inch, his mouth following his hands, kissing and caressing. He felt her fingers curl into his shirt. He was half crazy with wanting her, but he continued methodically, searching for the most sensitive places, memorizing the way she liked to be touched.

Clothes were discarded entirely and he allowed himself a moment to study her. She was pretty, he thought. And she was his. This had to be the result of all those years of meditating with his grandfather and trying to control his cussing. God had finally rewarded him.

He brought her to climax and then he followed.

When Daisy’s breathing was almost normal she opened her eyes. Steve had shifted slightly to the side and was watching her. “I’m glad I didn’t jump,” she said. “Do you still love me?”

“I will love you forever and ever.”

She sighed in contentment and walked her fingers across his stomach until she found what she was looking for.

“Whoa,” he said, “what are you doing?”

“You’re not tired, are you?”

“I could use a few more minutes.”

She looked at the watch on her wrist. “I’ll give you ten, and then it’s my turn. This next time we’re going to see what kind of patience you have.”

Daisy slowly drove the black sports car the short distance between her town house and Steve’s colonial, pulled into his driveway, and parked beside his new Hummer. She dragged herself from the car and walked bone-weary to the door. By the time she got there she was sick, her stomach rolling with each step she took. She hammered on the door and almost collapsed with relief when he answered with his cup of morning coffee still in his hand. Her eyes were large and teary, her blond bangs dark with perspiration. She knocked him aside with a sweep of her arm. “Get out of my way,” she cried, staggering toward the powder room. “I’m going to be sick!”

He swore under his breath and ran to get a towel. He soaked it with cold water and pressed it against the back of her neck when she emerged from the bathroom. “This is the fifth day in a row we’ve gone through this,” he said gently. “When are you going to hear about that damn dissertation?”