His voice was so deep, so raw, that she knew exactly what he was doing to himself, and for a moment she closed her eyes and indulged in some seriously beautiful mental pictures.
"Marissa. . . come home. . . . "
Snapping herself together, she pulled out of the spell he knew damn well he was weaving around her. "I can't leave quite now. But I'll start getting ready to check out - how about that?"
"Perfect. " She could hear the grin on his face. "I'll be here waiting for you - and listen, all kidding aside, take as long as you need. Just come back here first before you go to Last Meal? I want to give you an hors d'oeuvre you won't forget. "
"You're pretty unforgettable already. "
"That's my girlie. I love you. "
"I love you, too. "
As she ended the call, that big, fat, happy smile stayed on her face. Her mate was a traditional kind of male, "old-school," as he called himself, with all the biases that came with that mental set: Females should never pay for anything, open a door, pump gas into their cars, step through a mud puddle, carry something larger than what could fit in a sandwich bag. . . you name it. But he never got in the way of her job. Ever. That was the one area of her life where she called the shots, and he never complained about her hours, her workload, or her stress level.
Which was just one of the many reasons she adored the Brother. The displaced females and children who stayed at Safe Place were a kind of family to her, one that she was the head of: She was in charge of the facility, the staff, the programs, the resources, and, most important, everything and everybody who was under its roof. And she loved her job. When Wrath had given her the charter to run the charity, she had nearly balked, but she was so glad she had fought through the fear to find her professional purpose.
"Marissa?"
Glancing up, she found one of the newer counselors standing in her office's doorway. "Hi, there. How was group tonight?"
"Really good. I'll be filing my report in about an hour - right after we finish making cookies down in the kitchen. I'm sorry to interrupt you, but there's a gentlemale here with a delivery?"
"Really?" She frowned at the calendar on the wall. "We don't have anything scheduled. "
"I know, so I haven't unlocked the door. He said you'd know him, but he didn't give his name. I'm wondering if we shouldn't call the Brotherhood?"
"What does he look like?"
The female reached a hand up over her head. "Very tall. Big. He's got dark hair with a white stripe in front?"
Marissa jumped up so fast her chair let out a squeak on the floor. "Tohrment? He's alive?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I'll handle this. It's okay - you head back to the kitchen. "
Marissa shot out of her office and went down the front set of stairs. Pausing by the main entrance, she checked the security monitor that V had installed, and then immediately yanked open the door.
She threw herself at the Brother without thinking. "Oh, God, where have you been! You were lost for nights!"
"Not really. " He returned her embrace gently. "I was just taking care of some business. But it's all good. "
She stepped back, but held on to both his thick biceps. "Are you okay?"
Everyone at the mansion knew that Autumn had gone through her needing, and she could imagine how hard that had been on him. And she'd hoped, as they all had, that the growing relationship between the Brother and the quiet, fallen aristocrat would heal him. Instead, he'd disappeared after she'd come out of her fertile time, and Autumn had moved out of the house.
Not a happy outcome, obviously.
"Listen, I know you take donations, right?" he said.
Respecting the fact that he hadn't answered her question, she stopped probing. "Oh, we absolutely do. We'll take anything - we're experts at adaptive reuse around here. "
"Good, because I have some things I'd like to give the females, maybe? I'm not sure you can use any of it, but. . . "
He turned and led the way over to the Brotherhood's van, which was parked at the head of the driveway. Fritz was in the passenger seat, and the old butler hopped out as she approached.
For once, he did not have a cheery smile on his face. He did bow deeply, however. "Madam, how fare thee?"