Love Will Always Remember, page 21
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered into her ear, putting words to her thoughts. “I swear your pussy was made for me.”
It started then. She’d been simmering on low for hours, but now . . . Tension coiled tight in her lower belly. She clenched her pussy, undulated her hips, and reached out to the tidal wave of sensation that hovered just beneath her reach. When it finally crested, it pulled her under with a strength she’d hadn’t expected, reaching into her chest, squeezing her heart and stealing her breath.
“Jonathan!”
Her knees buckled and the stars floating in her vision wasn’t from the night sky. She gave herself up to it and it delivered her sated, satisfied and fulfilled.
With one final stroke, he stiffened and then came with a roar. If no one knew what they’d been doing before, a few of them must have an idea by now.
He rested his forehead on her back. “We’re still fully dressed,” he said.
She exhaled and lifted a shaky hand to pat his cheek. “I know.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
She put her most fervent wish out there. “Love me.”
“Always.” He squeezed her and kissed her shoulder. “Can we please go inside now?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
Upstairs, she followed Jonathan into the large, well-decorated and very masculine master bedroom. When he continued into the adjoining bath, she spread her arms wide and fell back onto his large king sized bed, with its dark duvet and messy sheets.
Orgasms, take me away.
That had gone well, if she did say so herself. She wondered if he’d be up for an encore. Just one. And then she’d let him get some sleep. He had a busy couple of days ahead of him.
The shower roared to life and she popped up, eager to share her idea. She sauntered into the bathroom. “Now, about you coming on my tits—”
Her brain snapped its finger, and a spark flared inside her head. She swayed and dropped onto the tiled rim of the large garden tub.
“Leighton?” He turned off the water and hurried to her side. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
She stared at him, dazed, waiting for the fog to dissipate. “It happened again.”
“What happened?”
“Remember when I told you about getting pieces of my memory back when I was with Andrea?”
He tensed and scraped a hand through his hair. “Is that what just happened?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him, sadness clinging to her like heated tar.
He swallowed. “What did you remember this time?”
“My father. He died six years ago.”
He frowned. “I thought you knew that already.”
The pain was there, waiting, and it greeted her as a childhood frenemy, rushing over her in waves, the strength of its torment diluted by time and new experiences.
“I did. But it’s what happened after his death that I’d forgotten.”
She turned her gaze inward as the scene unfolded in her mind like a movie, wincing as she faced the harsh words she’d hurled at her mother, relishing their malicious precision.
“Sweetheart, you’re scaring me. My imagination is working overtime.”
She exhaled. “My entire life my father told me we were blessed. We had so much; it was our duty to give back. He was my hero, until I discovered he was pretending to be something he wasn’t. I found out my father wasn’t the fine upstanding man, a pillar of the DC community and the US diplomatic corp. He was a liar. He’d been having an affair with a woman he met in Paris. For years.”
“Shit.” His eyes softened. “Come here.”
He pulled her onto his lap, but she didn’t relax. She couldn’t until she’d told him all of it.
“It gets better. My mother knew about it. Not in a she-found-out-made-him-break-it-off-and-stayed-with-him way. More like he carried on his affair until the day he died and she let him.”
She’d never understood that reaction. What woman would let her husband cheat on her? Leighton remembered the years she and her mother hadn’t traveled with her father. The events, games, and recitals he’d missed, explained away by her mother as their family sacrificing for their country.
Sure.
Her father got to have his side piece; her mother retained her position and status in DC society. It seemed to Leighton that she’d been the only Clarke who’d suffered. Fuck that! She’d given in to her hurt and anger and unfortunately, she’d made some important personal and professional decisions based on those destructive emotions.
“It changed everything for me. It’s the reason I left my old job and went into lobbying, the reason I stopped talking to my mother.” She looked at him. “That explains why she didn’t know about our engagement.”
The tears came then, streaking down her face, overwhelming her senses. Not because she experienced the dishonesty anew, but in sympathy for the shock, pain and betrayal she’d felt all those years ago. When they ended she felt cleansed. Like she’d finally be able to put what happened behind her and move on.
Was that the silver lining? Could the accident and her resulting memory loss be a possible blessing in disguise? She mentioned the idea to Jonathan.
“How so?”
“For the first time in years I wasn’t living with the heavy weight of that anguish. It sounds weird, but without my memories, I was able to reclaim the woman I used to be and take a break from the cold, unforgiving person I’d turned into. I’d come to believe there was no such thing as altruism or giving back. That everyone acted in his or her own best interest. I guess I must’ve started rethinking those beliefs.”
“Why do you say that?” His gaze searched hers.
She kissed him on his lips. “Because of you. The damaged person I’d been would never have allowed you into her life. She wanted to feel nothing. You’re too vibrant, too passionate, too sexy and you make me feel . . . everything.”
God looks out for babies and fools. Considering she was well into her twenties, she was grateful her insanity hadn’t caused her to miss having him in her life.
“You should call Dr. Faber and make an appointment.”
“I will.” She laid her head on his shoulder, wishing this particular memory had stayed buried, peeved it had tainted an otherwise perfect evening. “After the opening.”
“Hold on.” Jonathan stretched for the towel hanging on the bar, but couldn’t grab it.
“What are you doing?” she asked, standing to shift out of his way.
He hauled her back to his lap and tightened his hold on her. “Don’t move.”
Executing the sexy-guy-disrobing maneuver, he reached over his head, grabbed his shirt from the back and yanked it off, using it to wipe away her remaining tears.
“Everything will be okay,” he said, kissing the top of her hair. “No matter what you remember, we’ll get through it together.”
Not long after she’d first seen him in the hospital, she’d instinctively surrendered her heart to him. But there, in his bathroom, clutching his tee between her fingers, she made a conscious choice to entrust him with her soul.
Chapter Twenty
The following afternoon, everyone gathered at Sedici to taste dishes off the menu. Jonathan, Gib and his crew had spent the entire morning making several show plates of each dish, then they’d invited the waitstaff, bartenders and a few special guests to sample and offer their opinions.
People buzzed around outside of the restaurant as if the entire city was excited about the opening tomorrow. After the tenth person walked in, acting as if they were supposed to be there, Robby ordered one of the servers to cover the windows with brown butcher paper and to lock the front door. Anyone who needed to be there would know to come around to the back kitchen entrance.
The tasting had gone well and while there were still a few minor issues—the restaurant’s ordering platform refused to sync, the credit card machine didn’t work and the blown glass votive candle holders hadn’t arrived—it looked as if the opening tomorrow would go off without a hitch. Most of the staff had already left and Jonathan stood at the bar talking to Adam and Mike about Quartet’s opening and how Jonathan had been so nervous he’d thrown up right before the doors opened.
Leighton pivoted, totally not interested in that story. She’d never understood people who could talk about vomit or poop in the presence of food. And they were in a restaurant, for Christ’s sake!
The staff had set up long tables in the main dining room and as she passed, she was struck by how much food was left over. Surely, they wouldn’t throw it away? Maybe they could box it up and take it to a homeless shelter?
She headed into the kitchen hoping to find Gib before she left and ask about donating the food, but she found Chelsea and Indi instead.
“What are you two doing?” Leighton shook her head, knowing she’d find the answer entertaining.
She liked both women immensely, finding them intelligent and witty with strong, distinct personalities. Their care and concern for Jonathan had been evident, but they hadn’t approached her with skepticism and suspicion, choosing warmth and friendliness instead. Leighton learned that though they bickered like sisters and referred to each other as such, they weren’t actually related by blood, having met each other growing up in the foster care system.
“It’s a long story,” Chelsea had warned, “and we’ll be happy to share it one evening over a good bottle of wine.”
“After Nugget makes his entrance,” India had added. “I’m so ready to have this baby. He has a couple more weeks to vacate these premises before I institute eviction procedures.”
Now Chelsea stood with one hip propped against the stainless-steel workstation, her arms crossed over her bright yellow sheath, the color radiant against her skin tone. “Ask her.”
Indi, glowing in a short floral print sundress, was heading toward the walk-in pantry. “Jonathan once gave us a tour of the kitchen at Quartet. He told us the chefs always hide the good stuff back here.”
Leighton pointed behind her. “There’s a truckload of food out there.”
Indi waved a hand. “I had that. Now I want something different.”
Leighton looked at Chelsea. “Maybe she’s had enough.”
Indi pointed a finger at her. “We welcomed you into the sisterhood, Leighton. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Don’t make me tell you what I regret,” Chelsea said. She raised her brows at Leighton. “Since she got back to the States, she’s been . . . grazing . . . everything in sight.”
“Where did she go?” Leighton asked.
“Mike took her on a three-month trip around the world.”
“Nice.”
A worldwide voyage was out of the question, but once Jonathan felt comfortable leaving the restaurant, maybe one across the country? She wanted to drop by Quartet, visit the Computronix campus and see where he’d lived before moving back to DC.
“Pay dirt!” Indi exclaimed, followed by, “Oh shit!”
“Whatever you found, put it back!” Chelsea said.
Indi’s lips trembled and she lifted light brown eyes gone wide with panic and fear. A stream of liquid flowed down her leg and puddled by her right foot.
Oh shit, indeed!
“That’s not pee, is it?” Leighton asked to no one in particular.
Chelsea hurried to Indi’s side. “Take deep breaths. You’re going to be fine. Let’s get you to the hospital.”
Indi shook her head and clutched Chelsea’s forearm. “Not happening. I can’t move.”
Chelsea winced, but her voice was composed when she asked Leighton, “Can you grab Mike for me?”
The adrenaline that spread through Leighton’s chest made her a little light-headed but not enough to hinder her speed. As she rushed out of the kitchen she heard Indi moan, “You know I was kidding about the eviction notice, right Nugget?”
Four men stood in the dining area but she was focused on the only blond head in the bunch.
“Mike! It’s Indi. Her water just broke.”
Her hair fluttered against her cheek when Mike raced by, his face carved into determined lines.
“In my kitchen?” Jonathan’s voice was horrified.
Adam raised his brow, transforming into a dark, sexy autocrat. “The juices of raw chicken have dripped on numerous cooking surfaces back there. A small amount of amniotic fluid on the floor won’t contaminate the space or cause an outbreak.”
“I serve squab, not chicken,” Jonathan retorted, returning his attention to the other member of the group.
Leighton’s laugh trailed off as her gaze followed his to the man who was staring at her—
Her brain snapped its finger, and a spark flared inside her head, but this time it felt like a punch in the middle of her back. The force of the impact caused her to stumble forward and she gasped as an army of memories swarmed into the mental breach and flooded her mind.
By the time Jonathan reached her, she’d recovered. Better than recovered. She thrived. Her heart thundered in her chest and pure happiness shimmered from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.
She threw her arms around Jonathan’s neck.
“Are you okay?” His furrowed brow telegraphed his concern.
Thomas took a step toward them. “Don’t touch her!”
She spared him a brief glance before responding to Jonathan. “I remember!”
His head flinched back. “What?”
“I remember everything!” The excitement and relief was intoxicating. “My name is Leighton Clarke.”
One corner of his lip quirked up. “You already knew that.”
Information erupted from within her like a volcano science fair project.
“I’m a lobbyist. I work at Faulkner & Ingersoll. I just made the Top One Hundred Lobbyist list. Because I’m a rock star! Your name is Jonathan Moran. You’ve won a James Beard award and you have a restaurant in San Francisco that has three Michelin stars, which is insane.”
She could barely catch her breath as the facts poured from her. She pointed to Adam. “You’re the CEO of Computronix.” She turned to the last man present. “And you’re Thomas Moran, banker, Jonathan’s brother and”—her heart stopped—“my fiancé.”
Those last words trickled from her.
She noted Jonathan’s sudden stillness, the way his eyes darted to his brother and the remorse shading his features.
He’d lied to her.
Her lungs shut down, making it difficult for her to breathe. She pushed out of his arms and backed away from him, wrapping her own around her waist. For weeks she’d believed she was engaged to Jonathan. She’d lived with him, trusted him, made love to him. She’d shared parts of her family history she’d never told another soul, save Andrea, and the entire time, he and his brother had been laughing at her behind her back, passing her around like it was a fucking Olympic sport.
And last night . . .
Jonathan reached for her. “Leighton—”
Chelsea strode out of the kitchen, her voice overriding his. “Leighton, do you have your phone? Call 911!”
“That won’t be necessary.” Mike followed behind her, Indi cradled in his arms. “I’ll drive her!”
“In what?” Chelsea flung her hands. “We don’t live here and you have no idea where to go.”
“Fuck!” Mike’s eyes were wild.
“Already on it.” Adam held up his phone. “I called 911 four minutes ago after Leighton told us Indi’s water had broken. The ambulance should be here shortly.”
As if to bolster his claim, sirens wailed in the distance.
Chelsea blew him a kiss. “One of the many reasons I love you.”
Mike tried lowering Indi into a chair but she wasn’t having it.
“Don’t you dare put me down!” Indi hooked her elbow around his neck and crunched her knees, holding on for dear life. “You can’t leave me!”
Mike’s face ripened to an alarming shade of pink. “Indi, if you don’t take it easy, I’ll have to tap out.”
Indi winced and pressed her free hand against the side of her belly. “When your moments away from pushing something the size of a watermelon out of something with the give of a turtleneck, then you’ll have the right to lecture me about taking it easy!”
“As soon as I saw those props, I knew we should’ve skipped that last childbirth class.” Mike gently shifted Indi and pressed his cheek against hers. “Listen to me. You can do this. You’ve been an incredible wife. You will be an amazing mother. And I will never leave your side.”
Their display of love, support and devotion would’ve been beautiful to witness, but she couldn’t appreciate the sentiment. Not when she was teeming with bitterness and a sense of betrayal.
She was keenly aware of the Moran brothers: Jonathan, standing next to her—invading her personal space, actually!—his expressions tag-teaming between concern and fear; and Thomas, stewing in annoyance and impatience, on the periphery, but not part of the gang, hands clenched into fists at his side.
Fuck them. They’d both have to wait. While this could be the place, it definitely wasn’t the time.
Adam draped an arm around Chelsea’s shoulders. “At least we know Mike’s genes will dominate with this baby.”
Indi shot him a pained look. “Why would you say that?”
Adam’s tone was candid. “I can’t recall one instance when you’ve managed to be on time, but Nugget is coming a week early.”
Another event to seal their bond. This group had shared joys and tragedies, successes and failures, adventures and quiet moments and now a new experience would be added to the collective.
It was all so touching. Only a few minutes earlier, Leighton had looked forward to being in their ranks. Now—she was going to be sick.
“You wait until I have this baby, Adam. I’m going to kick your ass.”
“You’ll have to catch me first.” He softened the starkness of his words by reaching out to squeeze her hand.
“You’re dangerous, genius boy. My sister is a lucky woman.” A groan distorted Indi’s laugh. “We have to go. Now! I will need all the drugs.”
