Love Me or Leave Me. Gwynne Forster

Telford and Tara awaited him.

      “Dad, Uncle Drake said it’s damp down here and that’s not good for a piano.”

      Telford hunkered in front of the child. “Getting your troops together, eh? Well, your mother and I have decided that it’s going into the den, and Henry said that’s fine. I want you to stop trying to snow people to get your way. Use your charm sparingly.”

      Tara looked up at Drake. “Do you know what that means, Uncle Drake?”

      “Yeah, but don’t worry. Just be yourself.”

      Having gotten assurance that the piano would not be in the basement, Tara raced up the stairs to tell Henry. Telford looked at Drake with a narrowed right eye. “The chance that she’ll have your personality is nearly one hundred percent. Let’s hope she’s lucky enough to have your common sense to go along with her alluring ways.”

      He could feel the grin forming around his lips and spreading all over his face. “Thanks for the compliment. It may surprise you to know that it came at a good time.”

      Telford selected a dart, aimed it and missed the bull’s-eye. “Why did you need your ego massaged?”

      “I didn’t, but you wouldn’t tell me I have common sense if you didn’t mean it, and I’m questioning that these days.”

      Telford walked over to the long brown leather sofa, sat down and patted the place beside him. “Pamela?”

      “Right.”

      “You don’t have to make up your mind about anything today, do you? It isn’t as if she’s pregnant.”

      Drake’s eyes widened. “Heavens, no. We’ve never been intimate. I’ve avoided that, because I know she thinks a lot of me. And since I don’t know where I’m headed with her, I try not to do anything that she’d be sorry for.”

      A half laugh that sounded like a hiccup eased out of Telford’s throat. “She may be sorry if you break up and nothing’s happened. Better to love and lose than never to love at all, or something like that.”

      “She’s a very special person, Telford, and—”

      Telford interrupted him. “And she’s beautiful, soft, intelligent and fun. Need I say more?”

      Drake sat forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and supported his chin with both hands. “When did you know you loved Alexis so much that you wanted to marry her?”

      “I knew I wanted her the minute I saw her. In fact, I think I fell for her on sight, and I knew it was mutual. At first, I fought it, but every day that hook sank deeper. The first time I had her in my arms, I knew I’d never get her out of my system. She’s the one who slowed the relationship. Not me. When we were in Cape May, she, Tara and I had adjoining rooms, and we did everything as a family. It was the happiest time of my life up to then. I knew then that I would marry her if she’d let me. Tara wanted us to continue to live that way here at Harrington House, but of course it wasn’t possible until we married.”

      “I knew the two of you hit it off immediately and that she was right for you. How do you feel about impending fatherhood?”

      “I’m already a father, and I have been ever since I met Tara. Alexis wants a boy, and I hope we get what she wants, but I don’t care as long as we have another healthy, happy child. If you’re lucky enough and smart enough to choose the right woman, you’ll be a changed man and happier for it.”

      Drake patted Telford on the shoulder and got up. “I think I’ll go see what Henry’s doing.”

      “Henry and Tara were supposed to go to Frederick to look at grand pianos. Alexis is cooking dinner.”

      “How’s Tara’s piano playing?”

      “Fantastic. That’s why I’m sending her to a professional teacher.”

      “See you later.” He dashed up the stairs, didn’t see Henry in the kitchen and went on up to his room. If only he could be as sure as his brothers. He dialed Kendra’s number and hung up before the second ring. That wasn’t the way to go. She wasn’t for him, and he shouldn’t mislead her. He opened his briefcase and gazed unseeing at Russ’s drawings for extensions to the Florence Griffith Joyner Houses. What kind of evening did he want with Pamela? At times, thinking about her softness aggravated his libido until it made him uncomfortable. At other times, he could see her and think of her dispassionately.

      “No point in stewing over it,” he said to himself. “We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

      Pamela, too, had concerns about the course of their relationship. Now that she knew he cared but was uncertain as to what he wanted for them, she meant to teach him to love her. If that didn’t work and soon, she meant to invite him to take a walk. She put on a red woolen suit and silver hoop earrings, let her hair hang on her shoulders, added Calèche perfume and black accessories, and looked at her watch. He’d be there in five minutes. Almost immediately the doorman buzzed her.

      “Good evening, Miss Langford. Mr. Harrington to see you.”

      “Thanks, Mike. Ask him to come up.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He sang the words, because he liked Drake and encouraged her to be with him.

      She walked around the living room rubbing her hands together, fingering the art objects that she had collected in her travels, lecturing herself that she shouldn’t seem eager. And then the doorbell rang and she sprang toward it, calmed herself and walked the remainder of the way.

      “Hi,” he said, handed her a bouquet of tea roses and grinned. “You look better every time I see you.”

      “Stop fibbing and come in while I put these in water. They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She went to the kitchen, got a vase, put water in it and arranged the flowers, taking her time in order to retrieve her aplomb. She brought them back, said, “I’m putting these on my night table,” and brushed past him on her way to her bedroom, the fabric of her suit gently caressing his.

      “I’m ready,” she said when she came back to the living room.

      “I’m not.”

      Before the words registered, she was in his arms and his mouth was on her. His lips parted over hers; she inhaled his breath and the tip of his warm tongue probed for entrance into her mouth. Stunned by the swiftness of it, she hadn’t time to summon control and submitted to the passion that swirled within her. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, and he demanded that she take more. Her nipples hardened and she heard her moans as he gripped her hips to his body with one hand and, with the other, tightened around her shoulder until she could almost count his heartbeats. His hand roamed over her back as if he sought the answer to what touched her, to what would make her his alone. Her hand went to his nape, caressing, asking for more, and he gave it, darting here and there to every crevice in her mouth, squeezing her to him until she had a raw, aching need to have all of him.

      Shamelessly she rubbed the painful nipple, and he moved her hand, pinched and caressed it until she cried out, “Drake, I can’t stand this.”

      He stopped the torture at once, and with both arms around her he enveloped her in a gentle embrace. “I don’t suppose you intended for it to go that far. I know I didn’t, but I’m pretty sure I’ll do it again, unless you make it impossible.”

      When she didn’t respond, he tipped up her chin and gazed into her eyes. Knowing what he saw, she quickly closed them. The feel of his lips on her forehead, her cheeks and the tip of her nose told her that he cherished her. At least for now, he does, she thought.

      “I think it would be a good thing if we headed for the restaurant.”

      The expression on his face and the tone of his voice made it clear that if they didn’t leave, they might be there till morning. “I’ll get my coat.”

      “You know,” he said near the end of their dinner, “I like the fact that you’re