Bound by Suggestion by L.L. Bartlett Page A

it’s week forty?” he asked gently.
    Brenda’s mouth tightened, and she nodded. Their first child would have been born right about now. Brenda had lost that baby just after Thanksgiving.
    He snaked a hand down to rest on her abdomen. Despite moonlight coming through the bank of windows on the opposite wall, he couldn’t see her expression in the darkened room. “Have you told anyone about this baby?”
    “I don’t want to. Not for a while yet.” Her eyes glinted in the scant light. “Why are you asking?”
    He pursed his lips. “Because, I have. Talking about it won’t jinx us. We will have this child.”
    “I know,” she said and sighed.
    Richard snuggled close to Brenda, who lay there stiffly, staring at the ceiling. “Something else is bothering you,” he whispered, and nuzzled her ear. “Tell me.”
    A long moment passed before she answered. “It’s . . . the money.”
    His fists clenched. He pulled away to lay back and stare at the ceiling, too. “We’ve talked about this a hundred times.”
    “Yes, and I agree. Give it away. It’s your money. I don’t care what you do with it. I just question the timing.”
    “It’s a helluva tax write off, and a damn good cause.”
    “There are lots of other good causes that could use some of that money. Why not give the Foundation half now, and half next year? Spread it around.”
    “On what?”
    “You already know what my pet project would be.”
    He sighed. A community garden. Where low-income people could learn to grow their own vegetables, and the surplus could be donated to local food cupboards. It was like Brenda to seek long-term solutions to the world’s problems.
    “It’s too late, at least for this year. We’ll make it happen next spring. I promise.”
    “It’s a cheap shot,” she continued, ignoring his last remarks. “Like you’re trying to buy the Foundation’s most important committee chair.”
    A calculated risk, he silently agreed, that could blow up in his face. Yet either way the Foundation would get the money and patients would benefit from it.
    “I’ll think about it,” he said to placate her. “Meanwhile, you should tell Jeff about the baby. He’s the only family we’ve got right now.”
    “He already knows.”
    “Has he said anything to you?”
    “He doesn’t need to.”
    Was that another reminder that the two of them shared some kind of unspoken—what, mind set, rapport . . . relationship?—on a level he could never comprehend or be a part of?
    I am not jealous .
    His hand caressed her belly possessively. “Hey, lady. I love you.”
    Brenda rolled over to lie next to him, kissed him tenderly. “Love you, too, crazy man.” She pulled back and smiled playfully, her eyes glittering in the silver moonlight. “Wanna play doctor with me?”
    “Every day,” he breathed and found her mouth.
     
    Boundless darkness engulfed me. An ebony pit—like the universe before God noticed the absence of light and hit the first lamp switch.
    Yeah, light would be good, because the muddle of sensations kneading my mind and body left me feeling lost, weak, and helpless. A sing-song cadence of pleasant sensation lulled me—the promise of more to come. Best to go with the flow, it suggested.
    enjoy the ride . . .
    ride the tide . . .
    A feather-light touch brushed my bare skin, causing a glow of warmth to radiate through me. Tentative, almost clumsy at first, slowly gaining confidence.
    I sank deeper into the myriad of enchanting sensations, longing for more. The motion stopped as I reached out, accepting the fumbling invitation.
    A burst of pure fear, like a slap, snapped me from distraction, the sting of rejection burning my soul. The door to my mind slammed shut, and I shrank back, huddled in the womb of darkness. Waiting, waiting for safety.
    Another portal slowly swung open. Tendrils of desire teased me, offered to play nice, promised not to wound.
    Fingers of the voice stroked the edges of my mind. ‘Give in to the