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My knees always fill with a kind of numb tingle right before it happens, like they’re balloons being pumped full of novocaine. My hand slips and the full glass tips over in slow motion. I see the water pour out over the lip, splashing on the ground as I fall.
A part of me braces for the pain of bones against the cold tile of the kitchen floor.
And then warm, powerful arms catch me. I’m braced for an impact that never happens. An arm slides behind my knees, the other under my arms and I’m in the air, Drew’s masculine scent surrounding me like a protective mist. He’s marching with determination, cradling me carefully. My eyes are closed. I know all of this only through my other senses.
Lavender. I smell it, and the scent of beeswax, plus something else unique. As I’m gently laid down on smooth, cool cotton blankets I open my eyes and realize I’m in my old bedroom.
Unlike the rest of the house, it is exactly the same. Exactly. Not a single item has been moved in four years.
I exhale without realizing I’ve been holding my breath. Relief pounds through me like a pulse. If Mom and Dad changed my room, I would probably have a nervous breakdown.
“Jesus, Lindsay, don’t do that again,” Drew rasps in my ear as he sets me down. The brush of hot breath against my earlobe makes me shiver. All the heat in my body pools between my legs. And then it begins to throb, like a beacon begging for Drew to find his way home.
For four years I have suppressed every sexual feeling inside me. My therapists told me that was unhealthy, but I didn’t care. Don’t care. Never, ever cared and never will.
My body is betraying me, though, as it comes alive from Drew’s touch.
“Don’t do what? Faint? So sorry to disappoint you, Drew. I’ll work harder to control involuntary responses to overwhelming situations next time, and all just for you.” Sarcasm fills my voice, the sound dripping with contempt. I have to marshal the negativity. If I don’t, the sound of my own craving will fill the room and Drew will hear it.
Know it.
And reject it.
He flinches, but doesn’t back down. “I meant,” he says, eyes made of steel, “that you have to be more careful.”
“Worried about my safety, suddenly? What a refreshing change.”
This time he goes silent, nose flaring with anger, mouth tightening.
Daddy walks in and looks at me with an expression of concern tinged with something more calculating than just a father’s worry.
“Maybe you’re not ready to come home, Lindsay.” Daddy and Drew exchange a look. “Maybe this is too soon,” he adds. Drew’s face remains blank.
No.
Hell, no.
A switch in my brain flips, pushed by the sheer force of my will to go from A to B. Click. I give him my best fake-genuine smile, tempered slightly with the pretend feeling of being overwhelmed by fainting.
By life.
“I’ll be fine, Daddy. Just fine. I need a few days to adjust,” I say in an even tone. I’ve practiced this for four years, and fooled the staff at the island, so Daddy’s no match for me.
His shoulders relax, tension pouring out.
Right answer.
“That’s my girl,” he says, already thinking about the next major item on his daily To Do list. Anya, his long-time executive administrator, walks in the room, head bent over a clipboard and a stack of files, a wireless phone earpiece in her ear like something out of a Star Trek movie.
“Senator Bosworth, the foreign relations committee is holding an emergency session on...” Her voice trails down as she realizes Drew and I are in the room.
“Lindsay!” Anya’s steel-blue eyes light up with genuine warmth. Her ash-blonde hair is coiffed perfectly, cut in an easy, layered style befitting a fifty-something woman, and she’s wearing a pearl-grey suit. For fun, she runs triathlons.
Daddy wouldn’t know when to go to the bathroom without Anya. She runs his life. Daddy thinks he’s the big, powerful senator with all the connections, but if Anya ever quits he’d be as helpless as an infant.
“Hi,” I say, waving awkwardly from my bed. I sit up on my elbows. Thankfully, I chose to wear pants for this homecoming trip. I tuck my feet under me and sit up, grabbing a pillow for support. Suddenly, vulnerable, I feel like I’m naked even though I’m fully dressed.
Anya gives my dad a questioning look. “You didn’t mention Lindsay was coming home.” She’s smiling and friendly, but there’s a tone under those words. I feel instantly vindicated. Anya’s clearly been on my side this entire time.
