Private Lives. Karen Young

of gratitude. This was a new twist.

      “I was just disappointed that we couldn’t stay and enjoy the atmosphere. And the company.” He winked and gave her a wicked smile. “Anthony’s is a place where you bring somebody you feel special about.”

      “Don’t push it, Austin. You don’t feel special about me anymore.”

      “I’ll always feel special about you, babe. We’ve got history, good history.”

      “And some not-so-good history,” she said dryly.

      “Yeah, but I can see the error of my ways. I hate for it to end this way, both of us with regrets and wishing it could have been different. I think we can still salvage something good out of all this.”

      “We’ll definitely salvage something good. That’s Jesse.”

      “Yeah, which is exactly what we need to focus on, babe. We need to think about Jesse. How all this is going to affect her. I mean, if Liz and Louie are always bad-mouthing me behind my back and you’re hounding me about palimony, how’s that going to look to Jesse? She needs to feel that we still care about each other.”

      “I wasn’t hounding you, Austin. I asked for a reasonable amount of child support, a thousand dollars of which is going into trust for Jesse’s education. You can set it up at LJ and B if you want. It was the judge who increased the amount, not me. And Liz and Louie don’t ever mention you to Jesse. They wouldn’t do that. They know how that can confuse and hurt a child.”

      “Now you’re saying they never mention me. Hell, that’s almost as bad.”

      She gave an exasperated sigh. “Austin, listen to yourself! Just exactly what in all this would make you happy?”

      “That’s easy.” He signaled to exit the Interstate. “Just you and me handling our business without anybody else interfering.”

      Now they’d reached the neighborhood where Liz lived. Memorial was dense with tall trees, good landscaping and upscale residences. Much of Houston proper was hot and arid with an excess of stark, towering skyscrapers and roads frequently in a state of ongoing “improvement,” but the Memorial area was quiet and understated. Even as successful as Liz was, she couldn’t have afforded living here if it weren’t for the trust fund left for her by her father.

      Suddenly, instead of driving the final mile to Liz’s house, Austin pulled into the parking area of a posh condominium complex. At this late hour, no one was stirring and Austin stopped the car near a thick hedge of oleanders. He killed the engine and lowered both her window and his own with a button, then turned so that he faced her.

      “Nice night, huh? Quiet and peaceful in this neighborhood, too. Hell, if I didn’t need my health club and the convenience of living five minutes from the office, I might live in Memorial myself.”

      For a bittersweet moment, Gina recalled the dreams she’d had during the years of their relationship. When she discovered she was pregnant with Jesse, she had fantasized about being married to Austin, buying a house in Memorial or the University area, having the kind of life she and Liz had planned as foster children. They’d both have super careers, meet and marry two great guys, have two and a half kids each and live in the same neighborhood. Turning away, she gazed from her window at the lush bank of oleanders. How many years had passed now and only a fraction of that dream had materialized, little of it for her. Liz, of course, had a great career and her house truly surpassed their girlish expectations. Gina idly fingered the strap of her purse. She, meanwhile, was still waiting and hoping and dreaming…

      In daylight, the oleanders would be bright pink. She thought how much nicer a barrier the flowers made than a conventional fence, wood or stone. Somewhere nearby there must be night-blooming jasmine as its sweet, unique scent hung heavy on the air.

      “We need to talk, sweetheart.” Her heart fluttered when he touched her shoulder. Then his fingers slipped beneath her hair and began gently rubbing the taut neck muscles. “I meant what I said a minute ago. We don’t need lawyers to work out whatever’s best for Jesse.” Deep, low, husky, his voice alone was almost a caress, more intimate than a kiss. His fingers moved in a soothing, hypnotic rhythm. “We don’t need people who call themselves friends to tell us what we should do. We’re the ones with the history. And we have the power to make our own decisions.”

      Power. She knew what power was all about and it was hardly a two-way street with Austin. She knew how he wielded it, how he’d manipulated her almost from the first day they’d met so that she’d been happy to give him anything he wanted. Everything, if that was the price to be paid to realize her dreams. He leaned closer, finding a spot he knew well. Heat stirred in her belly. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes were closing. Thank God it was dark and he couldn’t see her. But he knew what she was feeling. He knew.

      “Maude is going to tell you that we need our lives to be spelled out in a document.” Still low and husky, his voice was like the stroke of his hands, compelling and hypnotic. “You’ll call her tomorrow, won’t you? Tell her you don’t need her anymore.”

      “Hmmm.”

      His laugh was low and sexy, feathering over her ear, her hair. She’d always been susceptible to that laugh. “Is that a yes, babe?” His hand was still tangled in the hair at her nape, working magic on the muscles of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, finding the shell of her ear. His lips at her ear, he whispered, “I need to hear a promise, sweetheart.”

      “Promise…”

      “Ahh, that’s my girl.” He rewarded her with an erotic sweep of his tongue in her ear. In spite of herself, she moaned with the sweet rush of pleasure. It had been so long. So long. Her breasts ached to feel his mouth. Between her legs, she was wet and wanting. If he touched her anywhere, she would—

      Oh, God. His hand slid along her inner thigh and found the ready softness. Ah, he knew so well what to do. What to touch. And how. She made a small sound, then bit down hard on her lip to silence herself. To keep him from knowing. But he did know. He did.

      “Do you like that, Gee-gee? Is my sweetheart feeling good?” He was crooning in her ear now, his breath hot and exciting, his fingers busy, skillful, all-knowing. “Aren’t we something, sweetheart? This is so right, isn’t it, love? C’mon, now, come for me, c’mon, c’mon, babe…” Then his thumb found just the right spot. She felt the rush of heat consuming her. And need, so strong, so impossible to resist. And with a soft cry, part joy, part anguish, she gave in, shuddering with the force of her orgasm.

      She was weak and still senseless with pleasure when he suddenly pushed away, got out and in half a dozen urgent strides was at her side of the car. He jerked the door open and hauled her up and out. Dazed and still in the grip of her orgasm, she didn’t resist as he stripped her of her skirt. Her knees were like rubber, lacking the strength to hold her up. But he had her buttocks clamped in both hands, guiding himself to the softness between her legs. She caught a glimpse of his face, dark and brutal. No love there, she thought in anguish as the glow of her orgasm faded. His hands were hard, cruelly so as they positioned her. Then, growling deep in his throat, he buried himself to the hilt in one hard thrust.

      As always when aroused, he was rough. Caught now in the throes of his own need, he set a savage, mindless rhythm. It was not just sexual gratification he was seeking, she realized. He was punishing her for her transgressions. For having to restrain himself in the restaurant when she’d defied him. For her temerity in forcing their battle into the legal arena. For daring to reveal his violent attacks. For her audacity in taking the initiative in the welfare of their child. She pushed at him with a broken cry of self-loathing. But it was like pushing against a stone wall. Too late, too late, too late, she wailed inwardly, bearing the brutal assault in misery until finally, with a loud shout, he came.

      A few minutes later, after he’d tossed her skirt to her, zipped up his pants and was again behind the wheel of the Porsche, he turned to her and said, “You won’t forget your promise, will you?”

      Her gaze was fixed on the dark landscape at the side window. She