From the Heart

tossed in his hand. “Figure up my losses. I’m finished.”
    “Well, let’s see.” Jessica chewed on the end of a pencil as she scanned the notepad dotted with numbers from previous hands. “You got caught with a bundle that time, didn’t you?” Not bothering to wait for his reply, she scribbled on the pad. “The way I figure it, you owe me eight dollars and fifty-sevenand a half cents.” Setting down the pad, she smiled at him. “Let’s just make it eight dollars and fifty-seven, even.”
    “You’re all heart, Jess.”
    “Just pay up.” She held out a hand, palm up. “Unless you want to go for double or nothing.”
    “Not a chance.” Slade reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet. He tossed a ten onto the table. “I haven’t got any change. You owe me a buck forty-three.”
    With a smirk, Jessica rose to retrieve her purse from the hall closet. “One dollar,” she said, rummaging through her billfold as she came back into the parlor. “And . . . twenty-five, thirty, forty-three.” She dropped the change into his hand, then grinned. “We’re even.”
    “Not by a long shot.” Slade grabbed her and gave her a long, thorough kiss. “If you’re going to fleece me,” he murmured, gathering her hair in one hand, “the least you can do is make it worth my while.”
    “Seems reasonable,” she agreed as she offered her lips again.
    God, how he wanted her. Not just for a moment or a day or a year, he thought as he lost himself in the taste of her. For always. Forever. All those terms he never allowed himself to think. There was a wall between them—the thin glass wall of status he forgot when she was in his arms. He had no business feeling what he felt or asking what he wanted to ask. But she was warm and soft, and her lips moved willingly under his.
    “Jess—”
    “Don’t talk.” She wrapped her arms tighter around him. “Just kiss me again.” Her mouth clung to his, smothering the words that begged to be said. And the longer the kiss went on, the thinner the wall between them became. Slade thought he could feel it crack, then shatter without a sound.
    “Jess,” he murmured again as he buried his face in her hair. “I want—”
    She jolted and Slade swore when the doorbell rang.
    “I’ll get it,” she said.
    “No, let Betsy.” He held her another minute, feeling the hammer of her heart against his chest.
    More than willing, Jessica nodded. When Slade releasedher, she sank into a chair. “It’s silly,” she began, then Michael walked into the parlor.
    “Jessica.” Ignoring Slade, Michael went to her to take her hand. “You’re so pale—you should be in bed.”
    She smiled, but couldn’t prevent her fingers from tightening on his. “You know I’d go crazy if I stayed in bed. I told you not to worry, Michael.”
    “How could I help it?” He lifted her hand to brush his fingers over the knuckles. “Especially with David muttering all afternoon about you not knowing how to take care of yourself.”
    “That was—” She broke off, casting a quick look at Slade. “That was just a small disagreement we had. I’m fine, really.”
    “You don’t look fine, you look exhausted.” Frowning, Michael followed the direction of her gaze until he too looked at Slade. Understanding was followed by anger, resentment, then weary acceptance. “She should be in bed,” he told Slade curtly, “not entertaining guests.”
    Slade shrugged as he eased himself into a chair. “It’s not my place to tell Jess how to run her life.”
    “And what exactly is your place?”
    “Michael, please.” Jessica cut off Slade’s answer and rose hastily. “I’ll be going up soon, I am tired.” With a silent plea, she turned to Slade. “I’ve kept you from your work too long. You haven’t written all day.”
    “No problem.” He pulled out a cigarette. “I’ll make it up this evening.”
    Michael stood between them, obviously not wanting to leave—and knowing there was no point in staying. “I’ll go now,” he said at length, “if you promise to go up to bed.”
    “Yes, I will. Michael . . .” She put her arms around him, feeling the familiar trim build, smelling the light, sea-breeze scent of his after-shave. “You and David mean so much to me. I wish I could tell you.”
    “David and I,” he said quietly and brushed a hand down her hair. “Yes, I know.” He cast Slade a last look before he drew her away. “Good night, Jessica.”
    “Good night,