Free Long Time Coming by Sandra Brown Page B

consulted his wristwatch. "And it's about time too.
    Ten-thirty! That's not dinnertime. That's bedtime."
    He rotated his hand so that his palm slid against hers and he clasped her fingers warmly. His other arm slipped around her waist. "That can be arranged."
    She took a breath that caused the half moons to quaver. "Be serious, Law."
    "I'm dead serious. Men always remember the ones that got away, you know. I'm just dying to find out what makes Miss Goody-Two-Shoes so damned good."
    Marnie didn't want to be thinking about anything except Law when he was holding her this close. But her conscientious mind wouldn't let her enjoy his embrace. It was dwelling on the results of the blood tests and Law's softly spoken confirmation that David was his.
    "Will you tell your parents that they have a grandchild?" She felt the sudden tensing in his muscles. And though his smile was still in place, it no longer looked natural.
    "I don't know."
    "Knowing that David is yours, what are you going to do, Law?"
    He withdrew his arms and stood, offering her a hand up. "You're right, they're calling everybody in for dinner. We'd better not keep them waiting."
    As he ushered her through the terrace doors, he leaned over and whispered, "I'll say this for you, Marnie, you know how to deflate what had promised to be good, hard arousal."

Chapter 8
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    H e rang her doorbell at eleven o' clock the following day. She was surprised to see him.
    The night before, his attitude toward her had been tense and guarded from the moment they're joined the party after their conversation outside on the deck.
    When he walked her to her front door, he had told her a terse good-night and given her a perfunctory kiss that indicated he was glad to see a conclusion to the evening. That's why this visit was so unexpected.
    "Are you busy?" he asked through the screen door.
    "I'm working."
    She smelled like acrylic paint and looked like the dickens. Her salon hairdo hadn't survived the night. Her hair was back to the loose, short curls that carelessly surrounded her small head. The formal dress had been zipped into a garment bag and hung in the cedar closet. This morning she had dressed in a pair of shorts and a shirt that were far from glamorous. Both had been relegated to her work-clothes drawer last summer. They were smeared with paint. She was barefoot.
    "May I come in?"
    She hesitated for only a second, then unlatched the screen door and pushed it open.
    "Why aren't you at work?" she asked as they moved down the hallway toward the back of the house.
    He dropped into one of the wicker chairs and peeled off his sunglasses. "I was, but a simulator we were working with developed a glitch. We weren't doing anything except standing around telling dirty jokes and waiting for the technicians to find the bug, which they finally announced would probably take until sometime tomorrow. So I took the rest of the day off. What's that?" He pointed his sunglasses at the painting she was working on.
    "The cover for a jewelry store catalog. Like it?" She held it up for his inspection. It was a painting of a giant lotus blossom set against a black background. In the center of the milky petals was a cache of glittering gems.
    "Different."
    "How diplomatic," she said dryly. "I'm glad the ad agency has already approved my sketch or I'd be worried." He smiled wanly, as though he weren't really listening. "Is something on your mind, Law?"
    "Lunch."
    "Lunch?"
    "Let me take you to lunch," he said abruptly.
    "No! I'm a mess."
    "You look fine."
    "Forget it. I'm not going out looking like this."
    "Okay, then we'll lunch in. What have you got?"
    Before she could say another word, he was disappearing through the doorway into the kitchen. By the time she reached it, he was bent at the waist, taking inventory of the refrigerator.
    She crossed the room and rudely pushed the refrigerator door shut. "You didn't come here to eat."
    He leaned back against the refrigerator and gazed up at the ceiling.