Love Me or Leave Me. Gwynne Forster

say Russ was hardheaded, and that you were the easiest of his boys to raise. He didn’t seem to know that Russ only insisted on getting and doing what he knew he was entitled to. You were just as determined—only you smiled, conned, cajoled and charmed him for whatever you wanted, and yer daddy never realized it. But I was on to you.”

      He felt a grin spreading over his face. “I know. You wouldn’t let me get away with a thing, and I am grateful to you for that. Fortunately or not, I’ve become as cut-and-dried as Russ is.”

      “No-nonsense is what you mean,” Henry said. “Look. There’s the old church where me and me Sarah took our vows, God rest her soul. The Quinn Chapel A. M. E. Church dates back to the late 1700s. It’s a landmark, and the local African-Americans are real proud of it. Every time I pass her, I think about that day way back then. You never saw the sun shine like that, and me Sarah looked so nice in her white lace dress and hat. Gives me the shivers thinking about it.”

      “I can imagine. She was one sweet woman, the only person who ever sang me a lullaby. My mother didn’t have the maternal instinct of a flea.”

      “Don’t bother to think about that. Does Pamela want children?”

      “She does, and that’s the problem. She wants to start on that now.”

      “Yeah, and she’d better. Me and me Sarah waited too long. She was five years older than me, and she just couldn’t go full-term. If we stay on this topic, we’ll be drinking our dinner ’stead of eating it though. Fortunately, neither of us drinks enough for the alcohol to make a difference.”

      “One thing,” Drake said, “and then I want to drop this. Why does everybody want me to marry Pamela?”

      “I don’t know about the rest, but when I’ve seen you with her, you behaved like a satisfied man. Besides, if I was yer age right now, I’d give you a run for yer money with that girl. You’d think I was Seabiscuit coming down the homestretch. She’s beautiful, kind, soft and got a real good head on her shoulders. And she can sing!”

      They spent an amiable evening together, dining gourmet-style and reminiscing about their lives together, causing Drake to reflect more than once that Henry had been a lifesaver to him when his father died. Going over the joys and tragedies that they had experienced together reinforced his love for home and family.

      “Henry has a subtle way of twisting my arm,” Drake said to himself after telling Henry good-night and heading to his room. He kicked off his shoes, stretched out on his bed and did the only thing he wanted to do. He telephoned Pamela, and it seemed as if the phone rang a thousand times before she answered, though he heard only four rings.

      “Hello?”

      “Hello. This is Drake. I was beginning to think I’d primed myself to hear your voice to no avail. How are you?”

      “I’m all right. I was considering washing my hair. Then I thought I’d better start the research for a program I’m doing mid-July. Then I thought, ‘I’m going to play my record and read. I don’t feel like working.’”

      “Telford and his family were out this evening, so Henry and I had a really nice dinner in Frederick. We’re just getting back.”

      “Why did you call, Drake?”

      He hadn’t expected the question, but somehow it didn’t surprise him. “I miss you, and I needed some contact with you. That’s why.”

      “All right. Let’s talk awhile. I’m going to California on Monday for an industry conference, and I’m nervous about it because my producer is sending me in his stead. He said I don’t need a briefing.”

      “Are you going to let him get away with that?”

      “I don’t know. Men are always getting away with things.”

      He sat up on the bed and rested his back against the headboard. “What men are you talking about? I don’t remember your letting me get away with anything…well, not much, anyway.”

      “No? What do you call kissing the sense out of me and three hours later as much as saying that if you didn’t see me again, too bad?”

      “I didn’t say that. Woman, I will not allow you to misrepresent me. Anyhow, you’re not bad at that kissing business yourself.”

      “What you did was foul play,” she told him.

      “No such thing, lady. I was not playing. I was never more serious in my life. You’re the criminal. I still have that gaping hole you left in me.”

      “Really? Well, for heaven’s sake, come here, and I’ll do my best to plug it up.”

      “Are you a gambler? Don’t you know I can get to Baltimore in forty minutes?”

      “Normally I don’t gamble, but when I do, it’s for high stakes. If you feel like taking a forty-minute ride, it’ll take me about that long to make cookies and coffee.”

      He looked at his watch. Nine thirty-five. “See you at ten-fifteen.”

      He hung up, slipped on his shoes and walked over to Henry’s cottage. “I’m going to Baltimore, but I’ll be back tonight.”

      Henry put his hands on his hips and stared at Drake as if he didn’t believe what he heard. “Humph. Seems to me if you’re smart enough to go, you ought to have sense enough to stay all night.”

      He winked at Henry, knelt down and patted Henry’s puppy, a golden retriever, on the head. “When I do that, you’ll know something serious is going on.”

      “Looks to me like it’s serious now, ’cause when you left me, you weren’t going anyplace but upstairs to bed. Don’t drive too fast.”

      “’Course not. See you.”

      He went inside, brushed his teeth, checked his face for evidence of a beard, got into his Jaguar and headed for Baltimore.

      She met him at the door in an orange-colored silk jumpsuit that fit her body as if it had been made on her.

      Okay, he said to himself. She’s declared war, but I’m a pretty good shot myself.

      “Hi,” he said to her. “You look like moonlight shining over a peaceful lake. You take my breath away.”

      A wide smile welcomed him. “Come on in, and be careful what you say, because I intend to hold everything you say and do tonight against you.”

      He pushed back the strand of hair that fell over his left eye, giving him what Henry called the look of a rascal. “In that case, I can’t win. But I can’t lose what I don’t have, either. Hell, Pamela, I really have missed you.”

      “Me, too. And if you’re the gentleman you claim to be, you’ll make amends.”

      “I’m here, aren’t I? If you don’t call that making amends, I needn’t even start trying.” She looked so warm and sexy in that getup that he… “I… Pamela, put your arms around me. I need to hold you.”

      “If you do what you did to me the last time, I’ll throw that pot of coffee at you.”

      “Would you hurt me?” He didn’t know how much he meant that question until he heard himself whisper it. “Would you?”

      “No. Oh, no.” Her arms opened and he walked into them. The feel of her soft, warm body and the scent of her faint perfume teased him, stirring his libido and awakening something in him that he wanted to remain dormant. She was on tiptoes now, and her hand at his nape guided his mouth to her waiting lips. His senses seemed to reel, and he plowed into her, demanding, asking and then—with his lips, arms, hands and his whole body—begging her to possess him, to love him. His hands roamed her back, arms and hips, and she held him, giving all he asked for, heating him until he thought the inferno inside of him would explode like a volcano.

      “Pamela,” he moaned. “What have you done to me?” He crushed her to him, kissing