Maureen Child - Dynasties - The Ashtons

Dixie shook her head sadly. “Or remember your birthday.”

“And if they do, they forget the card. Would it kill them to spend some time picking out a card?”

“So true. And they only want one thing.”

“Damn straight. Uh-oh. Sorry—I slid out of character there for a moment.”

“Watch it.” She took a sip, trying to keep a straight face. “Hey, this is good.”

“Ninety-eight was one of our better years.” He swirled the wine in his glass to release the scent, held it up and inhaled, his eyes half-closed. For a moment she glimpsed the closet sybarite in the pure, sensual pleasure on his face. Cole was a deeply sensual man. He mostly didn’t let it show. “It’s aging well,” he observed, and took a sip.

“So what were you doing in ninety-eight?” She leaned back and nibbled at her chocolate. She liked to eat them slowly, let the taste melt into her tongue. “Note that I don’t ask who you were doing.”

“I’d get in trouble if I put it that way.” He continued to send Hulk into a stupor of delight with those elegant fingers.

Quit staring at his hands, she told herself. “Women can say things to each other that men can’t get away with.”

“So you talk about sex at these things?”

“Sure. It’s a subheading under men. For most of us,” she added. “I had a couple of lesbian friends in New York—my downstairs neighbors. We mostly did not talk about sex, out of consideration for my comfort level.”

He chuckled. “My comfort level, on the other hand—”

“Don’t go there, Sheila.” She reconsidered. “On the other hand, I’ve always wondered why men get excited by—”

“You were right the first time,” he said. There was a spark of amusement—and something else, something warmer—in his eyes as he took another sip of wine. “We’d better skip the sex talk.”

She met his eyes as she took another sip, letting the wine sit on her tongue for a moment to develop the secondary flavors the way he’d taught her.

Not a good idea, enjoying her own sensual side while looking at Cole. “A hint of blackberry,” she said hastily, looking away. “See how well I know the lingo? Should be nice with chocolate.” She took another nibble of that. “Want to argue about politics?”

“Not the effect I’m going for tonight.”

“You probably voted for the governor,” she said darkly. “All right, all right—I won’t get into that. So we’re left discussing work or hair. I vote for hair.” She tilted her head. “Who does yours?”

“Carmen at The Mane Place. She has magic fingers. I like your hair.” The warmth in his voice did not belong to anyone named Sheila, unless Sheila had been of the same persuasion as Dixie’s New York neighbors. “You left out a couple choices. Movies, books…family.”

She took a healthy swallow of wine. “Read any good books lately?”

“No. How’s your mom?”

She huffed out an impatient sigh. “Your male side is showing, Sheila.”

So he asked again, but in an absurd falsetto, “How’s your mom?”

Dixie nearly choked, trying not to laugh, and gave up. “The same as ever, pretty much. Only happier.”

“Because of this man she’s going to marry?”

Dixie nodded, sipped, and a smile slipped out. “She always used to try so hard with whatever man she thought was going to fix everything for her. With Mike, she’s relaxed. She isn’t desperate to make him happy, or trying too hard to be happy herself. She just feels good with him, and it shows. Not that she doesn’t hurt because of what’s happening to Jody, but she’s…I don’t know. Somehow she’s okay about it.”

“You aren’t okay about it.”

She frowned, not answering. He didn’t say anything, either. Just sat there and sipped and petted Hulk, watching her.

“All right.” She set her glass down with a snap. “All right! You want to hear about my feelings? I’m mad. Pissed as hell.”

“You would be, of course.”

She shoved to her feet and started to pace. “It’s so horrible and so unfair. She still knows who we are. She isn’t so far gone that she’s lost that, but she will. She’s already lost so many pieces of herself, and it hurts me. This shouldn’t be about me, but every time I see her…the bewildered look on her face…My mother’s dealing with this so much better than I am.”

“She’s been here, watching it happen. She’s had time to adjust.”

“And I’ve been on the other side of the continent, letting her deal with everything. You know what makes me crazy?” She stopped, shook her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“I have no problem with you being stupid.”

“You’re in danger of slipping out of supportivefriend mode,” she warned him.

“Afraid you’ll shock me?”

“No.” She took two steps, stopped and threaded the fingers of both hands through her hair. “It’s all this praise I keep getting. It makes me nuts.”

“Yeah, I hate it when people praise me.”

“Very funny. You know how often I hear some version of how strong I am?” she demanded. “Or that I’m such a great daughter and niece for moving back here. God. Aunt Jody was diagnosed two years ago. Two years. And I’m just now showing up.”

“I guess you haven’t done anything to help these past two years.”

“I sent money. Big deal. I gave up a couple of vacations, flew out for more of the holidays. Then I’d go home and throw myself into work so I wouldn’t have to think about Jody.”

He shook his head. “Now that I can’t understand. Throwing yourself into work to avoid dealing with something? You mystify me.”

A reluctant smile touched her mouth. “You hinting that you have some experience in those lines?”

“I might.” He stood, ignoring Hulk’s protest at being disarranged. Crossing to her, he rested his hands on her shoulders. “What is it you think you should be doing differently, Dixie? Hurting less? Fixing things so your aunt doesn’t hurt?”

“Don’t forget the part about keeping my mother from hurting, too.” The shape of his hands woke a visceral memory, a wordless surge of feeling that tangled past and present. She swallowed. “I said it was stupid.”

“According to you, feelings are never stupid. They just are. It’s what we do about them that matters.”

“I could have sworn you never listened to my preaching.”

Cole smiled that half up, half down smile without answering.

Dixie felt the impact low in her belly. Her heartbeat picked up as the present turned compelling, wiping out the whispers from the past. Desire bit, sharp and sweet. Her lips parted.

His gaze dipped there, lingered. His hands tightened on her shoulders, and the look on his face was unmistakable. He was going to kiss her…and she wanted that, wanted the taste and heat of him.

He dropped his hands and stepped back, his smile lost.

The disappointment was as disorienting as his sudden retreat. She put a hand on her stomach as if she could ease the sense of loss that way and tried to sound amused. “What was that? An attack of nobility, or common sense?”

He snorted. “You think I know?” He turned away, heading for the door. “This was a dumb idea. Enjoy the wine and chocolate and carry on with the nail painting. I’m leaving before I forget Sheila entirely.”

“Cole.”

He paused but didn’t look at her.

“I was the one who switched the dial to another channel, not you. You…what you did helped.”

He glanced back at her, conflicted emotions chasing over his face before he got it smoothed out. “Does this mean I’m invited to your next sleepover?”

“Not likely,” she said dryly.

“Good. Because the next time I visit you at night, I won’t be planning to sleep.”