92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [26]
Bruce groaned and put down his champagne. “Maybe we could drink this later?” he asked, hardly sounding like himself.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked as he took the flute from her and set it on the kitchen counter.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit warm in here?”
“Hmm. I know what you mean.”
“You have too many clothes on.”
Rachel smiled. “You could be right.” She glanced out the kitchen window, saw no one, then peeled off her robe.
Bruce led her down the narrow hallway to the master bedroom, then lifted her into his arms.
“Bruce, I’m too heavy,” she protested but not too strenuously.
“Well…it’s not far from here to the bed.” He shoved the door with his foot, closing it partway.
Looping her arms around his neck, Rachel nibbled at his earlobe and felt his body shiver with excitement. She was excited, too. The freedom to make love without fear of waking or disturbing Jolene was heaven.
Bruce reverently placed her on the bed, his eyes glowing with love and wonder. “These past few weeks…”
“I know, I know.” Reaching for her husband, she urged him down so that he was sprawled across her. They kissed until Rachel was breathless with desire. “Oh, Bruce,” she sighed. “I want you so much.”
No sooner had the words left her lips than the front door opened and closed.
Bruce froze.
Rachel did, too.
“What’s Jolene doing home?” Bruce whispered fiercely.
“She’s supposed to be at basketball tryouts!”
“Rachel?” Jolene called out. “Are you home? Dad?”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Rachel called back as Bruce scrambled off her. He’d just managed to grab the towel and cover himself when his daughter appeared in the doorway.
A look of sheer horror came over her. She scrunched up her face and cried, “Gross!”
“Jolene.” Rachel hurriedly hid her negligee with a pillow. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” She knotted both hands into fists at her sides.
Rachel could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“If you’d kindly give us a few minutes of privacy,” Bruce said from between clenched teeth. Keeping his hand clamped on the towel around his waist, he walked to the bedroom door and closed it completely.
“I knew this would happen,” Jolene cried from the other side. “It’s like I don’t even live here anymore. All you think about is…that.”
Apparently that was a synonym for sex.
The girl marched down the hallway to her room and slammed the door. The sound reverberated through the house.
“Jolene, that’s not true.” The kid had no idea of the restraint she and Bruce had employed since they’d been married.
“Leave her be,” Bruce said with a disgusted sigh. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“I know.” Rachel was disappointed, too. She stepped up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. “She needs time to adjust.”
“She’s had time.”
“It’s been less than a month.”
“I thought she wanted us to marry,” Bruce argued.
“She did. Only she’s afraid of what it’s going to do to her relationship with you.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Bruce muttered. He broke away long enough to jerk on his pants.
“But, Bruce, it has. Don’t you see?”
“Frankly, no.” Every movement conveyed his frustration and anger. “We’re married, and I want to make love to my wife. It isn’t right for us to be sneaking around because we’re afraid Jolene might know what we’re doing. She should know. That’s what married couples do.”
“Listen, Bruce, I’m as frustrated as you are, but we need to be sensitive to Jolene’s feelings. We should never have rushed into this.”
Bruce whirled around, his face contorted. “So now you regret marrying me?”
“No!” she insisted. “I love you and Jolene more than I could ever express. What I wish is that we’d given Jolene time to get used to the fact that I was going to be moving into the house.” Rachel didn’t want her husband to think for even an instant that she didn’t want to be married. “For seven years it was just the two of you and I was conveniently tucked away for whenever Jolene wanted to visit or chat. Now I’m here 24/7, and she feels threatened.”
Bruce sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face. “This is torture.