If Only You Knew Read online

  "No, everything's almost done."

  This was the first meal they'd shared privately as a married couple, and she wanted to prepare it herself.

  "So what do you have planned for today?" she asked as she added more bacon.

  "Nothing that couldn't wait if you have something else in mind."

  His answer sent ripples of desire through her body. "I didn't have anything else in mind," she said breathlessly.

  "I'm going to Home Depot. I need to pick up a new drill bit."

  "What are you working on now?"

  "I'm making a room in the attic."

  She listened as he explained what he was planning to add in the room. She had no doubt that he'd do exactly what he said he'd do. Carpentry was his hobby and like everything else he did, he did it well.

  When she was satisfied with the meal, she set the food on the table. Her grits were smooth, the bacon crisp, the eggs were scrambled just the way he liked them, and the biscuits were golden brown.

  "This is good," he said. "I usually don't cook on the weekends."

  "I don't know why you don't hire a chef. It would be a lot simpler and easier on you."

  "The housekeeper, Mrs. Thompson, is enough. I don't want that many people to have access to my house. This is the one place where I know everything will be like I left it."

  "We're only talking about the kitchen and maybe the dining room."

  He shook his head. "No, I don't want one."

  "Well, we're going to have to talk about the cooking arrangements because I normally cook on the weekends. During the week I'm usually tired. So why don't we work up a schedule to split the cooking duty."

  "You don't have to cook if you don't want to. Don't change your habits because of me."

  Don't change your habits, she thought. If she had her way, she'd change her whole life. "I think it's only fair that we split the work around here. I don't want you to think I'm freeloading. I want to do my share."

  "How about one person cooks and the other person cleans up?" he replied.

  "That seems fair."

  "It's right up my alley because I'd rather cook than clean."

  "You sound like James. He always paid me to do the kitchen when it was his week to take care of the kitchen." She smiled as she remembered fun she had with her brothers growing up. "Oh, did I tell you James is moving back to Atlanta?"

  "No. Did he get transferred?"

  "Yes—his company gave him a three-year assignment. I didn't know financial people were in such great demand."

  "Managers have a tendency to get a little excited when the numbers are published," he said.

  "I know, but they're paying him big bucks and all he does is run reports and spreadsheets."

  "I think James would disagree with you. Financial officers aren't paid the kind of money they are by running reports that any clerical person could run."

  "I know, but it irritates him every time I say it. I've got to get my licks in early with him."

  "Why do you fight with him? You and Steven seem to get along fine, but if James said something's black, you'd argue that it was white."

  "I think James and I are too much alike, and it's entirely too much fun to see who'll win the argument," she said with a smile.

  He laughed. "All these years, I thought you just liked to argue with me."

  "I do like arguing with you. You're Mr. Cool-Calm-and-Collected businessman most of the time, and people fawn over you. I like to ruffle your image because you need it every once in a while."

  "I need it?"

  "Yes. You're so serious, and at times you'll tend to forget to laugh. I'm just a friendly reminder that life can be so funny," she said.

  "So you think I'm too serious?" he asked.

  "I know you are."

  He frowned and continued to eat his meal in a comfortable silence. Anna May waited for his response, and when none was forthcoming, she finished her meal. From years of experience, she knew he was thinking on what she said to him. She liked knowing that he listened to her. He might not agree with what she said, but he listened. She felt as if she could tell him anything. Well, almost anything.

  She couldn't tell him she loved him and wanted their marriage to last "until death do us part." Her only hope was for Ric to fall as deeply in love with her as she was with him. If only she knew how to make him love her.

  Home Depot was crowded with Sunday afternoon shoppers. Stacked with tools and building supplies, it was a do-it-yourselfer's paradise. She smiled as they walked through the huge warehouse and wondered what her friends would think if they saw her. Honeymoon in Home Depot didn't have a romantic ring to it, but she was enjoying herself because she was with her husband.

  In tan corduroy pants and navy wool sweater, Ric was slightly overdressed in a crowd wearing jeans and sweatshirts. Even overdressed, he had a commanding air about him.

  "So what did we come here for?" she asked following him down an aisle filled with plumbing material.

  "A drill bit."

  "What does it look like?"

  "Like a drill bit."

  "Ha, ha, ha," she said. "Do you know where you're going?"

  "Yes, I'm in here a lot." He led her to the corner of the store where row after row of power tools were on display. An older man wearing a bright orange apron with the name "Grady" written in black letters approached them. His short Afro was so totally gray that it seemed almost white against his dark brown skin.

  "Good morning, Mr. Justice. What can I do for you today?" the man asked.

  Anna May raised her brow. He was in this store more than she realized if the employees knew him by name.

  "Good morning. I'm looking for a drill bit."

  She stood to the side as they talked about bit diameters and working surfaces of which her knowledge of either was null.

  He looked so handsome standing there, leaning forward as if listening intently to the shorter man. An aura of power and strength surrounded him, even in the relaxed atmosphere of the store.

  Her body tingled as she remembered the strength and power he'd used last night. She was eager to feel his power again soon.

  Ric nodded, keeping one of the two packages in his hand and returning the other to the shelf.

  "Are you ready?" Ric asked.

  She nodded in response.

  "Anna May, this is Grady. Grady, this is my wife, Anna May Justice."

  Grady's gray eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Congratulations," he said while shaking her hand. "I wish you both the best."

  "Thank you," she said.

  As they walked to the front of the store, she said, "He seemed like a nice man."

  Ric shrugged. "He knows power tools."

  Suddenly a little boy ran up to them.

  "Come here, John." A younger man wearing faded jeans rushed forward. The toddler looked at the man then looked at Ric and ran to Ric, grabbing Ric's pant leg when he stopped. The man was joined by a woman carrying a purse and a diaper bag. The man scooped up the little boy and held him in his arms.

  "Sorry about that. He got away from me for a second," he said.

  "That's okay," Ric replied.

  The man put his arm around the woman's shoulders and walked away. Anna May felt a longing in her heart. She wanted what the couple had. She wanted a family of her own.

  Chapter 9

  She was a long way from happily ever after, Anna May thought as she listened to the sound of a hammer pounding against wood on the floor above her. When they'd returned from Home Depot, she didn't think twice when he'd told her he was going to work on the attic for a little while. She thought it was a good idea at the time. Her suitcases were full of clothes that needed to be unpacked.

  Now two hours later all of her clothes were put away, and she had nothing but time on her hands. She fluffed a pillow on the already immaculate bed. It had taken her a few minutes to straighten the bedroom. If she was at her other home, she would have found things to do to keep herself occupied, but this was her home
only temporarily, and she was reluctant to change things without his permission.

  To be honest, she didn't really want to do anything but be with her husband, and from the amount of noise he was making, it would be a while before he finished.

  Ric mindlessly pounded the nails into the drywall. It was that or go downstairs and make love to his wife. His body hardened as he remembered her innocent caresses and the startled cries of passion.

  Last night was a night he would never forget. So why was he upstairs in the attic and his wife was somewhere downstairs? he wondered. He'd convinced himself that he was giving her time. Time to become accustomed to an intimate relationship. But he knew he wasn't being truthful. He was hiding, keeping himself at a distance because it wouldn't be hard for him to fall in love with her.

  "Love," he muttered in disgust as he pounded the hammer into another nail. He didn't trust love. To him the word had no real meaning. His mother had told him over and over again that she loved him, yet she'd let other people raise him while she and his little brother lived a life of luxury. If that was love, then he didn't need it.

  What he was feeling for Anna May was lust, he told himself. Pure animal attraction—and it would soon die down as they became more familiar with each other. Familiar with her smooth brown skin, familiar with the sweet jasmine scent at her breasts, familiar with her soft, silky thighs. Cursing, he stepped away from the wall. Putting up drywall wasn't having the calming effect he'd expected. He was just as aroused now as he was when he watched the sway of her hips in Home Depot.

  A pencil-thin model she was not. Her blue jeans hugged her full, curvy hips and small waist. She had the kind of lush curves that made him think of all the wicked, naughty things he'd like to do with her.

  As much as he wanted her, and regardless of the fact that they were married, he knew his time with her was temporary. She wanted a child, and he was just the means to give her one. He'd be doing them both a favor if he remembered that.

  Determined, he focused his attention on the wall in front of him. He would have to build a wall as thick as the one he was putting up to keep his feelings at bay. With a swing of the hammer, another nail anchored the drywall. He only wished guarding his heart was as easy.

  "Don't you want to open the gifts?" Anna May asked from the doorway with her arms folded across her chest.

  Ric smiled to himself behind the Sunday paper. She was like a kid in a candy store, and she couldn't wait to open the wedding gifts they'd received. Her hints had gone from subtle to downright blatant in the hour since he'd finished working in the attic. Crossing his legs at the ankle, he lowered the newspaper and pretended to consider her question.

  "No, we can open them later," he said in a casual, disinterested tone.

  "When?" she demanded.

  He shrugged his shoulders and began reading the paper again. "Maybe tomorrow when I come home from work."

  "Riiiccc," she cried.

  "What?"

  "I can't wait that long. I want to open them now."

  "Go ahead," he answered as he turned the page of the newspaper.

  "You don't want to open them with me?"

  He almost laughed at her incredulous tone. "No, you go ahead. I'll finish reading the paper."

  Anna May walked over to his chair and snatched the paper out of his hands. "You can finish the paper later. Let's open the presents now," she said, then added a moment later when he hadn't moved from his chair, "please."

  He looked at the newspaper in her hand with exaggerated longing. "All right," he said then smiled mischievously. "But I get to open the first one."

  Smiling she dropped the paper on the floor, then took his hand and pulled him from his seat. "I don't care. Let's go."

  The living room was masculine, cold, and elegant. The interior decorator Ric had hired when he bought the house had designed the room with power and money in mind. It was not, Anna May thought, meant to be used except on certain important business occasions. She had been in this room twice, once when Ric gave her a tour of the house and now.

  The antique oak table in the living room was piled with richly wrapped gifts which the chauffeur had brought inside for them last night.

  "Which one do you want to open first?" she asked as she pulled him inside the room.

  Looking over the assorted gifts, he chose the smallest one. Side by side they sat on the sofa. He took his time opening the gift, careful not to tear the gold foil wrapping paper.

  "Hurry, Ric," she said with a little impatience and a lot of excitement.

  "If I hurry, I'll rip the paper," he responded.

  "So rip the paper."

  "But then the gift won't last as long," he said.

  "What?"

  "When I was little, I thought my gift would last longer if I took my time unwrapping it" He laughed self-consciously. "Funny, the things you remember from your childhood," he said peeling off the tape.

  "My gifts would have lasted all of five seconds—I'm a ripper when it comes to presents. On Christmas or my birthday, I could hardly wait to take off the paper and see what was inside. Sometimes I'd even help my brothers open their gifts. That didn't go over too well sometimes. I didn't care if the gift cost two dollars or two hundred dollars, I just thought it was exciting to find out what was inside."

  His laugh was harsh and mocking. "When I stayed with my grandmother, I always knew what was inside the box. Every year at Christmas I got a recycled toy from the church charity, and on my birthday the same charity gave me a set of new clothes."

  She placed her hand on his hard thigh. "Oh, your grandmother couldn't afford to get toys for you?"

  "She could afford it, all right. She didn't want to waste the money my mother gave her on me."

  "Your mother sent her money? I don't understand. Why weren't you living with your mother?" Anna May knew why he wasn't living with his mother. Ric's aunt and uncle had told her about his past but this was the first time Ric had spoken about it, and she wanted to hear it from him.

  "She remarried, and my stepfather didn't want me around especially when my mother had his son."

  "What's your brother's name, and why haven't you told me about him?"

  He frowned. "There was no reason for you to hear about him. His name is Adam Wilson. For all I know, he doesn't know I exist."

  "I've known you for almost twenty years, and you've never said anything about your brother and barely mentioned your mother. What else haven't you told me? What else don't I know about you?"

  "You know me," he said pointing to his heart. "You know what I like and you know what I don't like. You're the only person in the world who knows the real me, not the businessman, not the Ice Man, but plain old Ric Justice. So you didn't know about my brother, and I don't talk about my mother. So what? I know my brother and my mother didn't make me the person I am today."

  "But you are her family. How could she treat you like that?" she said hotly. She didn't want to think ill of the dead, but what she was learning about his mother made her blood boil.

  "Easy," he said casually as he removed the last piece of tape. Noting the department store logo on the box, he removed the top. He froze and stared at the contents inside the box.

  "What is it?" she asked and glanced inside. Matching sterling silver picture frames were nestled inside, behind the glass were old pictures. One was of a man dressed in a military uniform holding a baby. The other was a picture made at the same time, with the man holding the baby in one arm and his other arm around the shoulders of a young woman. Anna May recognized the features of Ric's aunt. As she looked closer, she noticed similar features in the man.

  "Who's that with your aunt?" she asked.

  "My father and I," he said picking up a frame.

  "What a nice gift. Do you have many pictures of your father?"

  "No. I have one other picture of him that Aunt Betty gave to me when I moved in with them," he replied as he gave her the box.

  Anna May picked up one of the frames,
but her attention wasn't on the gift. For as long as she'd known Ric, he'd never really talked about his life before he moved in with his aunt and uncle. He'd kept himself distant from them, although he'd lived with them for four years. Ric had never known what it was like to have a real family. He had a family with an aunt and uncle he kept at arm's length, a little brother he hadn't seen in years, and a wife who loved him. Placing the frame inside the box, she vowed to show him a different type of family. Starting with herself, her family, and later his family, she planned to show him a real family.

  A loving family.

  "I'd better get a box of thank-you cards tomorrow," she said with her thoughts filled with plans to reunite him and his relatives.

  "Hmm."

  "Don't worry, I'll do the cards since I'm not going to go to work tomorrow."

  "Oh. What do you plan to do all day?"

  "I'm going to unpack some of my things. Put up pictures of my family, set up my computer. Things like that. You know—adding little things here and there around the house. But I won't change anything major."

  "This is your house, too. Change anything you want."

  "I don't think you want me to do that," she said looking around the starkly traditional living room. "We have totally different styles, and I don't want you to think that I'm trying to take over your house."

  "You've got to be comfortable here. I don't want you to feel like a guest. For as long as we're married, this is our house. Not yours. Not mine, but ours."

  For as long as we're married, Anna May mused to herself. They were going to stay married for as long as they lived if she had anything to do with it. She wanted to be such an integral part of his life that he wouldn't think of divorcing her.

  She smiled shyly at him. "You'll tell me if you don't like something I've done, won't you?"

  He raised his brows. "When have you ever known me not to tell you I don't like something?"

  "Never."

  "I'm glad we've got that settled. Now are you going to open a gift, or should I go finish reading the paper?"

  She picked up the biggest box on the table, then tore the wrapping paper. "No way. We're opening all the gifts tonight."