Danielle Steel - Impossible

“Nine,” he said between kisses.

“Nine what?” He was confusing her with what he was doing. Her head was spinning.

“It's nine years, not ten. Don't exaggerate.”

“All right, nine. I'm still not ready to tell people. And you deserve better than being a secret.”

“I'd rather be your secret than your nothing.”

“I'm your dealer.”

“I want you to be my woman.” And all she wanted as he kissed her was to be his woman. But as soon as she would be again, everything would get crazy and confusing, just as it had in Paris. “And I want to be your very own wacky artist.” She laughed at him then.

“Well, you're that in any case, even if all I am is your dealer.”

“Sasha, give it a chance again … please, for both our sakes. I really love you.”

“I love you, too. I just don't want us to drive each other crazy. And we would. You know it. I would do something that would freak you out. I'd insult you without meaning to. And you'd show up at a board meeting wearing a loincloth and sneakers.”

“A loincloth?” He backed up and looked at her. “A loincloth? I don't even own one.”

“Then buy one,” she said, smiling. “Every wacky artist should have one. You could wear it to parties I take you to.”

“What about a toga? I could show up at a board meeting or a black-tie dinner wearing my bedsheets.” He grinned.

“That's too easy,” she said to him between kisses. She was in his arms by then, and he was carrying her into the bedroom. He deposited her on the bed where they had made love for the first time. He stopped and looked at her then, and she lay on the bed and looked at him.

“I won't make you do this if you don't want to,” he said softly.

“I should hope not,” she said, with a look of amusement. “Oh God, Liam… what are we doing?” She loved him, but she was frightened.

“We're starting where we left off, only better,” he said, sounding convinced.

“How do you know it will be better? Maybe it will be worse.”

“I know because I love you more than I did two months ago. I know because I want it to work. I want to prove to you that it is possible, and that you were wrong when you said it wasn't. I want you to be wrong.”

“So do I,” she whispered as she held her arms out to him. He untied her bathrobe then, and she took off his clothes. She wanted to believe it was possible. She wanted it to work with him. She wanted to be everything he wanted, and she wanted him to be her dreams. And as he made love to her, they both found everything they had missed and longed for for the past two months.

Afterward she looked up and smiled at him, and this time she had to laugh.

“I can't believe we're doing this again. What a couple of lunatics we are, Liam.” In spite of herself, she looked pleased.

“You're a lunatic.” He grinned at her. “I'm only a wacky artist,” he said, looking proud, and feeling as though he had come home again.

Chapter 10

The next morning they made love again before he left. They took a shower together, and laughed about what they were doing again. There was a sense of humor about their relationship now, a kind of wonderment, an ease and sense of goodwill about it that they hadn't had before it ended in Paris. She wanted more than anything to believe it was possible. But with the difference in their lifestyle and age, she was still afraid it wasn't. It all depended on how tolerant they could be of each other. In her opinion, therein lay the key to their success: an ability for each of them to let the other be who they were. She had no idea if either of them was capable of that. This time it was going to take skill, luck, and magic for it to work.

He kissed her before he walked out the door. Standing in the doorway in her bathrobe, she watched him saunter down the hall. She was terrified that it was still impossible, but she was unable to resist him. He turned and smiled at her, and as their eyes met, everything inside her melted. She loved him more than ever before, this time for who he was.

She was smiling broadly when she met Xavier in the lobby for breakfast half an hour later. Liam had promised to meet her in Paris that weekend, and she had another idea as well. She had been planning a trip to Italy, to see new artists in May. She wanted him to come with her, and was going to mention it to him that weekend.

“You look like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary,” Xavier commented with a grin. “What's up, Mom?” He was wondering about the date she'd had the night she came to London, and he asked her about it. “Someone special?”

“Nope. Nice, but boring.” She liked Phillip Henshaw, although she had no chemistry with him. But now that Liam was back, Phillip had flown right out the window, and didn't even know it. She knew what she was doing with Liam was insane, but she felt compelled to try it again. She reminded herself that doing the same thing again and again, and expecting a different result, was the definition of insanity. But there was absolutely no way she could resist him, and she didn't want to. She was so happy he was back in her life. She could hardly wait for the weekend. They had talked about her coming to London to see him on weekends too, but she was afraid she'd run into Xavier. She was definitely not ready to tell her children. First, they both wanted to see if this could work. She was betting on it, and so was he.

Her driver took her to the airport, and when she got back to Paris, she was all smiles. Bernard and Eugénie saw it the minute she walked into the gallery.

“Well, you're in a good mood,” Bernard commented drily. And when she got home that night, she was happy to see Socks. She was happy to see everyone now that Liam was back. Something was so different and so much better with him in her life.

She had a busy week at the gallery, and when Liam arrived on Friday night, she was waiting for him. She had made a cassoulet, which he said he loved, pasta, salad, and even bought fancy pastries for him at Fauchon. They ate in the dining room, put the music on, and lit all the candles. It felt like a honeymoon to both of them. And on Saturday she invited him to join her in Italy for three weeks in May. He was ecstatic. Everything was better than it ever had been for both of them.

He drove to Paris every weekend for the rest of April. They went to Deauville for one of them. They stayed in a funny old hotel and walked on the beach and gambled. Miraculously, no one in her life seemed to know what was going on. He arrived late on Fridays, lay low on Saturdays, and on Sundays they walked around, or drove into the country. They went to mass at Sacré Coeur, visited Notre Dame, and walked in the Luxembourg Gardens. They never ran into anyone she knew, and she turned down all invitations on weekends. Not because she was hiding him, but because she wanted to savor every moment she could spend with him. And once or twice, they dined with his artist friends in the Marais, who nearly fainted when they found out who she was. Most of them were half her age, which made her uncomfortable, but she knew being with them was something she had to tolerate for his sake. They told them they were friends. She knew he needed to see his friends. She saw hers, and the clients she entertained during the week, while he worked in London. They both knew it would be too complicated if he spent the weeks in Paris, and there would be no way they could keep their secret, with her gallery right in the same house. They had agreed this time to keep their affair quiet, until they felt more secure with each other again.

They left for Italy on the first of May. They began their trip in Venice just for the fun of it, and spent four glorious days like a honeymoon at the Danieli. He had flown in from London, and she from Paris, and they met there. They did all the tourist things, rode in a gondola under the Ponte dei Sospiri, which the gondolier said would bind them to each other forever. They had sumptuous dinners, shopped, visited churches and museums, and sat in cafés. They were the happiest days they'd ever shared.