Bedded for His Pleasure: Bedded by a Bad Boy / In the Gardener's Bed / The Return of the Rebel. Heidi RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
I don’t, Jess.’Ali’s words were heartfelt. ‘I don’t think you’re a fool at all. But,’ she continued, ‘Monroe is a very complicated man. He’s not going to be an easy man to love.’
‘I know that. But, Ali, he really needs me. And I think he’s worth the effort.’ How could she explain to her sister how special he was? ‘He’s such a wonderful person in so many ways. He’s tender and caring and so careful with me. He’s also fun and exciting and…Well, you already know how gorgeous he is. And, Ali, he has the most amazing talent. He paints, portraits, landscapes. In oil, mostly. But, Ali, he’s got this incredible way of putting the emotion there on the canvas. I wish you could see his work. But he’s sort of shy about it.’ Jessie’s heart felt as if it were going to beat right out of her chest. It was so wonderful to be able to talk to someone at last about how she felt.
Ali put her arms around Jessie, gave her a tight hug. ‘I’m glad for you, Jessie. And Monroe. He’s a lucky man, but I’ve got one word of warning.’
Jessie stilled her features, the concern in Ali’s eyes stemming her euphoria. ‘I’m listening.’
‘By not telling Monroe how you feel about him. By not telling Linc about the two of you because Monroe has asked you not to. You’re putting his needs above your own, Jess.’
‘I know, but it feels right at the moment.’
‘Fine, but it can’t go on for ever. What you need is just as important as what he needs. Remember that.’
‘Hey, you want a hand with that?’
Monroe looked up from the lawnmower to see his brother walking towards him across the freshly mown grass. He wiped his forearm across his brow as he stood up.
‘All finished,’ he said. ‘I’m just gonna haul these clippings over to the garage. The garbage truck will get them tomorrow.’
Drawing level, Linc grabbed one of the sacks. ‘Let me take one.’
Monroe bent to tie up the other. They walked in silence across the lawn with the cumbersome garbage bags in their arms. Monroe waited for his brother to speak. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back. It was a hot day; the mid-afternoon heat was a killer. He should have waited until evening to mow the lawn, but he’d been antsy ever since his brother and his family had got back from New York.
‘Why didn’t you come over for lunch? Ali was expecting you.’ Linc’s voice was neutral.
Monroe threw his bag into the large trash receptacle in the garage. ‘Couldn’t. Got caught up doing the lawn.’
Linc dumped his own bag into the bin. He slammed the lid down and then whipped around to face Monroe. ‘That’s bull.’ He didn’t sound neutral any more; he sounded good and pissed. ‘Nobody asked you to do the damn lawn.’
Monroe’s own temper spiked. ‘I told you I’m not a damn freeloader—’
Linc held up a hand. ‘Can it. I’m not arguing about that again.’
‘I’m not the one who brought it up again.’ Monroe bit the words out.
Linc dragged a hand through his hair, huffed out a breath. He didn’t look angry any more, just miserable. ‘Hell, Roe, why don’t you come out and say it?’
‘Say what?’ Monroe felt a trickle of guilt.
‘I screwed up. I know that,’ Linc replied. ‘I shouldn’t have tried to give you the gift at Emmy’s party. It was too soon. You weren’t ready.’
‘It’s not that,’ Monroe said, the trickle now a bitter torrent.
‘You don’t have to pretend with me, Roe. I know we don’t know each other. But we were brothers once. I wanted you to remember. I was pushing you. I shouldn’t have.’
Seeing the torment in his brother’s face, hearing it in his voice, Monroe knew he couldn’t hold out any longer.
‘I do remember.’ He watched Linc’s eyes jerk to his, saw the rush of emotion in them. ‘I remember you always gave me birthday cards. Some of the ugliest drawings I’ve ever seen in my life.’
Linc shrugged. ‘I was never much of an artist.’ His gaze was intent on Monroe’s.
‘I remember when I was ten.’ Monroe’s voice cracked a little, he cleared his throat. ‘The last one you ever gave me. You said it was the Silver Surfer. Looked more like an icebox with wings.’
‘Hey, I thought that was one of my best.’
‘It meant something, Linc.’
Linc nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Monroe swallowed, forced himself to continue. ‘When you gave me that gift by the pool, it brought it all back. How it was when you were there, what it was like afterwards, when you weren’t.’
Linc sighed. ‘Hell, I didn’t mean to bring all that back, Roe. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be an ass.’ Monroe’s words were sharp, angry. ‘It’s always there. So what? It doesn’t mean a damn thing any more. You took me by surprise, that’s all. The duffel bag’s great, by the way. Just what I needed.’Seeing the pleasure in his brother’s face, Monroe realised he should have said something much sooner. ‘Thanks. It’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.’
Linc put his hand on Monroe’s shoulder, squeezed and then let go. ‘Not better than the Silver Surfer card, surely?’ His voice was thick with emotion.
Monroe grinned. ‘You got me there—maybe not quite that good. But pretty damn close.’
Ali’s words of advice were still ringing in Jessie’s ears when she tiptoed through the garden that evening. It was nearly midnight. The grass was cool under her bare feet as she skirted the Cape Myrtle trees, their branches bending under the weight of their summer blooms. She’d waited until the house was quiet before coming out. She could see the lights from Monroe’s apartment blazing as always in the darkness, beckoning her back to him. The smell of lavender scented the sea air, making her smile with the romance of the moment.
She would tell him tonight. Ali was right. Monroe should know how she felt. Her love wasn’t some burden that he would have to bear, after all. It was a joy, a gift. He could take it or refuse it or put it to one side and think about it. But whatever happened, she wanted him to know about it.
She remembered the difficulty he had had in accepting Linc’s gift. The symbolism seemed so clear to her now. That was why she’d been afraid to tell him. Because she knew he wouldn’t know how to respond, what to say. It seemed cowardly to her now. She felt so happy, so confident. He was the right man for her. He might be unsure of himself but he didn’t have to be unsure of her.
She glanced up at his apartment window and saw his tall, lean figure standing next to the glass. He was watching her from the window. Her heart leapt into her throat. Her lover was waiting for her. She gave a quick, delighted wave, picked up the hem of her skirt and ran round the side of the building to join him.
As Monroe watched Jessie disappear from view, the weight of the guilt he’d been carrying around all day got heavier still. She had looked eager and so beautiful, the reddening twilight shining off that mass of fiery hair.
Bewitched, that was what he was. She’d cast some sorceress’s spell over him. He was so desperate to hold her again, his hands fisted at his sides. It was getting harder and harder for him to contemplate letting her go.
When he’d bumped into her that afternoon and she had whispered that she was coming over tonight, he should have told her no, made some excuse. But he hadn’t been able to. Not while he could smell that fresh scent of hers; not while she’d been looking at him with that combination of desire and trust that drove him insane.
So he’d told her to come, that he would be waiting. But as he heard her