away. The power of that touch torched a wildfire in his blood, but for the sake of the children, he corralled it.
"I'm not breaking, Maya Alyssum," he whispered so the kids couldn't hear. "Paint posies on the ceiling if you like. Fly kites from the roof. But two months from now, I'll have you in my bed. Want to redecorate it first?"
And then he did what he'd been longing do since the last time. He kissed her.
December, 1945
Helen sent me a frightening letter today. I think she must have been in her cups when she sent it, but I've never seen her drunk enough to say such things. I'm worried about her. I need to get her away from that bar and her evil companions. If we married, I could support her, but not in the style of the Arnolds, or even in the style in which she lives now. The old man has promised me a management position, but I'd be lucky to have a job if I marry Helen. I could look elsewhere, but without the backing of a wealthy family, I'd be fortunate to earn as much as Helen's bartender. She'd hate me for taking her away from the bright lights and music.
I'll hate myself if I don't.
Chapter 20
Mind like a steel trap—rusty and illegal in 37 states
The house was dark when Axell drove into the garage. Even for a Friday night, he was unusually late. Katherine's resignation hadn't helped. He'd had to handle host duties while hastily training one of the waitresses for the job. He didn't know what he'd do for an assistant manager. Hire a man, he figured glumly. Women were too unpredictable.
He veered toward the family room to turn off the table lamp and paused at the sight of Maya curled up on the couch, wrapped in the throw as usual, her hair spilling over the edges like part of the tapestry. Axell thought her asleep until he entered the room, and she stared up at him with wide, fathomless eyes. It was those eyes that had held him captive from the first. Like the ocean, they held mysteries that would take a lifetime to explore.
"Can't sleep?" he asked. With Maya, he knew better than to expect a simple explanation.
She set aside a paperback with a single rose on the front and wiped her eyes. She'd been crying over a novel, and he wondered if it was one of Angela's romance books.
"You don't have to marry me just to have sex," she announced, but her voice was whispery and not at all as firm as she probably would have liked.
Dropping his briefcase, Axell collapsed on the sofa beside her. "Why not just hit me upside the head with a bat when I come in?"
She sniffed, and he handed her his handkerchief.
Rubbing her nose, she attempted a glare. "I'm a pacifist. I don't believe in violence."
Axell's shoulders shook with laughter. He couldn't believe he was laughing after a day like this. He wanted to howl and roll on the floor, but she'd probably think him insane. Besides, he'd wake the kids. Chuckling anew at the thought of the chaos that could ensue, he shook his head.
"What's so funny about that?" she demanded.
"Passivity." He bit back another chuckle and leaned his head against the sofa. It was kind of nice sitting here in the semi-dark, hearing a human voice instead of the dead emptiness he'd lived through these last few years. "Pacifists are rarely passive, or even peaceful." He turned his head and sought her face in the dim glow of the lamp. His unholy curiosity inspired his next question. "Are you saying you'd go to bed with me without marriage?"
She glowered and tucked the handkerchief somewhere in her lap. She was wearing the lacy blue nightgown Selene had given her, but the cotton throw covered most of it. He'd have to buy her a regular robe. Something green to go with that glorious sunburst of red hair. And a gown to match. Something short and seductive.
"As if you have to ask," she sniffed. "You probably have women waiting in line."
A surge of lust shot Axell's already aroused hormones into overdrive. He really did want to howl over her jealousy, but the chuckles died in his throat. He looked back over the lonely nights of the past two years, the few furtive couplings, the awkward undressings and whispered questions, and he wondered why the hell he'd bothered at all. His laughter emerged more as a