Micah - Laurell K. Hamilton [14]
Micah still had his sunglasses on as he unpacked us. He hung up the other suits we’d bought so they wouldn’t wrinkle. Then he turned to me. He looked at me, shaking his head. “You should see the look on your face.”
“What?” I asked, and even to me it sounded grumpy.
“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, Anita.” He sounded less than pleased. Micah seldom got upset about anything, and almost never with me. I liked that about him.
“I’m sorry this is weirding me out.”
“Do you have any idea why it’s bothering you this much?” He took off the glasses and his face looked finished, with his eyes showing. The kitty-cat eyes had bothered me a little at first, but now they were just Micah’s eyes. They were an amazing mix of yellow and green. If he wore green, they looked almost perfectly green. If he wore yellow—well, you get the idea.
He smiled, and it was the smile he used only at the house. Only for me and Nathaniel, or maybe just for me. At that moment, it was just for me.
“Now, that is a much better look.”
“What?” I said again, but couldn’t keep the smile off my face or out of my voice. Hard to be sullen when you’re staring at someone’s eyes and thinking how beautiful they are.
He walked toward me, and just that—him walking across the room toward me—sped my pulse, made my breath catch in my throat. I wanted to run to him, to press our bodies together, to lose the clothes and what was left of my inhibitions. But I didn’t run to him because I was afraid to. Afraid of how much I wanted him, of how much he meant to me. That scared me, a lot.
He stopped in front of me, not touching me, just looking at me. He was the only man in my life who didn’t have to look down to meet my eyes. In my heels, I was actually a little taller.
“God, your face! Hopeful, eager, and afraid, all there on your face.” He laid his hand against my cheek. He was so warm, so warm. I curved my face into his hand and let him hold me.
“So warm,” I whispered.
“I’d have had flowers waiting, but since Jean-Claude sends you roses every week, there didn’t seem to be a reason for me to send you flowers.”
I drew back from him, searching his face. It was peaceful, the way it could be when he was hiding his feelings. “Are you mad about the flowers?”
He shook his head. “That’d be silly, Anita. I knew I wasn’t the top of your dating food chain when I hit town.”
“So why bring up the flowers?” I asked.
He let out a long breath. “I didn’t think it bothered me, but maybe it does. A dozen white roses every week, with a red rose added since you started having sex with Jean-Claude. And now there are two more red roses in the bouquet; one for Asher and one for Richard. So it’s like the flowers are from all three of them.”
“Richard wouldn’t see it that way,” I said.
“No, but he’s still one of your lovers, and you still get something every week that reminds you of him.” He frowned, shook his head. “This room is my flowers to you, Anita. Why won’t you let me give it to you?”
“The flowers are a lot less expensive than this room,” I said.
He frowned harder and it wasn’t a look I’d seen much on his face. “Is it money that makes the difference for you, Anita? I draw a decent salary from chairing the Furry Coalition.”
“You’ve earned the salary, Micah. You average, what, sixty hours a week?”
“I’m not saying I don’t deserve the money, Anita. I’m just asking why you won’t take this from me, when you take gifts from Jean-Claude?”
“I didn’t like the flowers at first either. You got to town just after I’d given up fighting about it with him.”
He smiled then, but it wasn’t a really happy smile. More rueful. “We’re going home tomorrow, Anita. I don’t have time for you to get used to the idea.” He sighed. “I was looking forward to spending some time, just us, and you aren’t happy about it. I think my feelings are hurt.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Micah.” I really didn’t. I touched his arm, but he stepped out of reach and went back to