Marrying Mr. English:The English Brothers #7(20)

"We drive."

"Where to? North or south?" he asked, running his lips along the column  of her throat, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick her skin,  making goose bumps spring up all over her body, which was sensitive and  primed, slick and ready.

"It doesn't matter . . .," she moaned, threading her hands through his  hair as he walked through his bedroom door. He placed her gently on the  bed, unwrapping the rest of her body like a present before cutting his  eyes to hers. The tenderness she found in his steady gaze was a living,  growing thing of such beauty, her heart tripled in size, and all of  it-every last inch of space-belonged to him. ". . . as long as I'm  sitting beside you."





Chapter 11




In the end, they decided to drive north, and by the time they left the  English family penthouse apartment, on December twenty-sixth, with four  suitcases full of clothes and personal items, in addition to three boxes  crammed with Tom's books and papers, they were feeling more hopeful  about their future . . . thanks, in large part, however inadvertently,  to Van.                       
       
           



       

Curled up next to him in the passenger seat, covered with a blanket and  snoring softly, Eleanora caught up on sleep as Tom sat in holiday  traffic on the Garden State Parkway, headed north to Cornwall,  Connecticut. After taking a nice long look at his gorgeous wife, he  turned his eyes to the bumper-to-bumper traffic, and his thoughts to his  conversation with Van last night.

In the late afternoon, Tom and Eleanora had grudgingly decided to take a  break from sex in favor of refueling via breakfast casserole. Sitting  on the couch-she in one of his light-blue dress shirts, which fell to  her knees, and he in some drawstring pajama pants-with full plates on  their laps, they were startled by the ringing phone.

Placing his food on the coffee table, which still bore his little cake,  now partially eaten, he picked up the phone on the end table, wondering  who was calling on Christmas Day when he was estranged from his family.

His mother? Surely not. She was living in West Palm Beach last he heard,  on husband number five or six, but wed, for all intents and purposes,  to a bottle of whatever gin was her current favorite.

His little brother? Unlikely. Skip would be at Grandfather's house, and  no doubt the favored grandson this holiday, Tom thought ruefully.

And his father had made it clear this morning that he wasn't impressed with Tom's current situation.

Genuinely curious, he put the receiver to his ear. "Hello?"

"Tom? Tom English?"

A giddy female voice on the edge of giggles blasted through the phone,  and Tom looked askance at Eleanora, feeling uneasy. He didn't recognize  the voice. Was she someone with whom he'd been intimate recently?

He made sure his tone was uninterested. "Ahem. Yes, this is Tom English."

"Don't you know who this is?"

His heart sped up as Eleanora turned to him with curious eyes. "Uhhhh . . ."

"It's Evie!"

"Evie?"

"Yes! Oh my God! Do you remember me?"

His shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile spreading over his face as  Eleanora shoved her plate onto the coffee table and practically leaped  across the couch for the phone.

Holding it just out of her reach, he answered, "Uh, yeah. I just met you last week."

"That's right! Doesn't it feel like longer? Merry Christmas! Oh my God! How are you? How is Ellie?"

Right now, "Ellie" was straddling his lap, practically wrestling him for  the phone, which made his shirt ride up to her hips, giving him a peek  at her white underwear. Loving this impromptu wrestling match, he leaned  back as far as he could while fending off his wife with one hand.

"She's in the bathroom. She's been in there forever. She might be living there now. I don't even-"

Eleanora gasped, her mouth dropping open, and he launched into silent  laughter, weakening his hold on both her and the phone, which she used  to her advantage. Straddling his hips and pressed intimately against his  body, she reached for the phone and finally grabbed it, shoving it  against her ear and scowling at him.

But she didn't move.

She stayed where she was on his lap, and that was, hands down, Tom's favorite thing of all.

"Evie?" she asked, her voice breathless. She gave him a very saucy look,  her blue eyes leveling his world, per usual. Then, sticking out her  tongue at him, she declared, "No, I'm not constipated, but yes, my  husband is an ass."

Tom put on a sad face, watching with delight as her lips twitched into a grin.

"No, I'm not divorcing him. I decided to keep him for a little while."

Tom could hear Evie's shrieks through the phone, and he smiled at his  minx of a wife, trailing his hand up and down the smooth softness of her  leg until she slapped his hand away.

"He's growing on me."

Suddenly, her expression sobered, and she bit her bottom lip before releasing it.

"Yeah," she murmured, looking away from Tom. "I am."

And it was that "Yeah, I am" that made Tom's brain start racing in an  attempt to catch up with his heart. What had Evie just asked her? And  what had Eleanora grudgingly admitted to in such a soft and emotional  voice? With lightning speed, his mind returned to last night-to the  feelings he'd had as he held her, after making love. That was the moment  he'd known that he was falling in love with her. And he wondered, Could  that have been the question Evie asked: Are you in love with Tom?  And-God, please-could the answer have been, Yeah, I am?

He gently stroked her blonde hair from her forehead, and she looked at  him again, her eyes soft and searching as she listened to her cousin but  scanned his face intently. Suddenly, it was clear that she was  refocusing on the phone conversation, and she furrowed her brows.                       
       
           



       

"Wait. Wait. I missed that. What did you just say?"

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth.

"Evie, what are you talking about? You can't just-"

Tom mouthed What? but Eleanora shook her head, her face troubled.

"Honey, let's talk about this a little more. You've never been out of Colorado. Why don't I fly back, and we can-"

Her face tightened as Eve Marie took over the conversation, and finally,  Eleanora huffed softly. "I know I'm not your mother, but I'm the  closest thing you have to a-"

Cupping her cheek, Tom made her look up at him, but she shrugged away, crawling off his lap to kneel on the couch beside him.

"Evie, listen to me. You're not going." A slight pause, and then, "No. I'm worried about you! There's a difference!"

Tom reached for Eleanora, placing his palm on her back, but she leaned  away from him, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and bowing her  head.

"Fine," she said in a broken voice. "Have fun." A long moment passed before she added, "I love you too."

Keeping her back to him, she reached her hand back with the phone and  said, "Van wants to talk to you." Then she got up without looking at Tom  and padded out of the room, sniffling like she was crying.

Torn between running after Eleanora and talking to Van, Tom pressed the phone to his ear. "Van?"

"Tommy boy! How's married life?"

"It's good. Or, it was good until my wife just left the room in tears. What's going on? What just happened?"

"She's crying? Why's she crying?"

"How about you tell me?" he said, clenching his jaw and curling his fist  in his lap, hating like hell that something had upset her.

"Calm down, Tom. It's not a bad thing. You remember my dad's partner? Troy Holmes?"

"Sure."

"Well, he's married now. Has three little kids, in fact. And my dad's  sending him over to Hong Kong to open a new office in January. He's  leaving from Philly next week."

Tom nodded, wondering what the hell Mr. Van Nostrand's business partner  had to do with Eleanora crying in his bathroom. He stood up, looking  down the empty hallway, but bound to the living room by the phone's  curly cord. "Yeah. And . . .?"

"Well, father's asked me to join Troy."

"Okay."

"And, well, Troy's nanny got cold feet about moving to Hong Kong at the  last minute, and he asked if I knew any nice girls who could be a nanny  to the kids and a friend to Joan, and I suggested-"

"Christ! You didn't!"

"She's a nice person!"

"Eve Marie? She's spread her legs for half of Vail. You're going to pass her off as a nanny?"

Van's voice was like ice. "She's changed."

"In six days?" scoffed Tom. "People don't change that fast."

"Right," said Van, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "Like that would be  impossible. Um, you weren't fucking married a week ago, hypocrite."