Starlight

by Debbie Macomber

  “You’re seeing quite a bit of Rand, aren’t you?” Judy questioned unexpectedly. Her voice held a worried note, and she watched Karen closely.

  “Not as much as I’d like.” Karen was surprised by her sister’s attitude. “Does it bother you that Rand is blind?”

  Judy shook her head, quickly denying the implications. “Of course not.”

  “Then why the censure?”

  “Karen”—Judy hesitated, looking uncertain and more than a little uncomfortable—“I know you like Rand, but I don’t want to see you hurt. I think you should tread carefully with this relationship.”

  Karen studied her sister thoughtfully. Liking Rand. That was the understatement of the year. Judy and Karen had always been close, even as children. Almost five years separated them—a big difference when Judy was a sensitive teenager and Karen was a pesky younger sister. Even then, they had shared a special relationship. Yet, in all her years, Karen couldn’t remember her sister acting in quite this manner.

  “Things between Rand and me are going even better than I’d hoped,” Karen told her sister, but Judy avoided eye contact, paying inordinate attention to her salad. “Rand’s just beginning to be comfortable with me; the defensiveness over his blindness is almost gone. More important, I sense he is accepting me into his life. It’s more than I’d hoped to accomplish in such a short time. Although”—she smiled before continuing, as if she’d overcome an important hurdle in their relationship—“tonight is the first time we’ll be alone together. His reader is sick, so I’m going to the school after work and read his students’ papers to him. He’s promised me dinner. More than a fair trade, I think.”

  Judy didn’t mince words. “Do you love him?”

  Karen didn’t even hesitate. “More than I thought it was possible to love any man.”

  “Does he know it?” Judy still hadn’t touched her salad.

  Karen sighed heavily. “I’m sure he does.” A hundred times, Karen had longed to speak freely of her feelings, but this was a sensitive area, and she knew she must be patient. Not that she doubted his feelings.

  “If you love him, why don’t you tell him?” An odd expression crossed Judy’s face.

  “I can’t, Jude. Rand doesn’t want to hear it. I know that’s difficult for you to understand, but for now that’s the way things have got to be.”

  Judy shifted uneasily, again giving the impression something was weighing heavily on her mind. “Are you sure of his feelings?”

  Karen’s soft mouth curved into a smile. “All right, sis, what is it?”

  Judy looked all the more uncomfortable. “What’s what?”

  “Obviously, you’ve seen or heard something about Rand, and you’re worrying yourself sick over it.”

  Judy sent her a sidelong glance, and her shoulders drooped forward in defeat. “Am I really so easy to read?”

  Karen smiled with sudden humor. “My heavens, I’ve seen James and Carter less obvious.”

  Judy laughed, too, her smile more relaxed. “I was on campus the other day and saw Rand,” she began, her fingers nervously twisting her napkin. “I knew who he was the minute I saw him. I mean, you’ve talked about him enough.”

  Karen knew Judy was taking a couple of classes at the university, and it didn’t surprise her that she’d seen Rand.

  “Only Rand wasn’t alone.” Her eyes met Karen’s briefly. “There was a woman, a tall blonde, with him, and Karen, I may be an old married lady, but I know a come-on when I see one. This woman was definitely on the make, and Rand was eating it up.”

  “That’s Cora Dibner,” Karen interjected on a long breath. “You don’t need to tell me she’s after Rand. The lady and I have met.”

  Judy sighed, visibly relieved. “I’ve been so worried. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any woman that smooth. What gets me is that Rand seemed oblivious to what was happening.”

  Karen smiled ruefully. “As far as Cora is concerned, I think Rand is more aware than he lets on. I don’t doubt that he can see through that layer of cool sophistication. Rand’s no fool.”

  Judy studied her sister pensively. “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

  Karen went directly to Rand’s office after work. She stopped only once at the ladies’ room to check her appearance. Her lipstick had faded, and she freshened the honeysuckle-rose color and ran a quick comb through her hair. Impishly, she sprayed her favorite fragrance to the pulse points of her neck. Rand had commented once on the delicate white ginger scent she wore. He was sure to detect it again and smile at her womanly wiles.

  “Karen?” Rand’s welcome was both a question and statement.

  She let herself into his office; the door between his office and his assistant’s was open, anticipating her arrival.

  “Yes, it’s me.” Her heart beat a little quicker each time she saw Rand; he was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, more than she dared dream she’d find. “I hope you’re not one of those slave drivers who won’t allow coffee breaks? I’m dying for a cup.”

  “Now, just a minute,” Rand teased. “There’s nothing in our contract about coffee breaks.” His expression altered. “Hmmm, you smell good.”

  Excitement churned inside her. “Good enough to kiss?”

  “Definitely.” His voice was both low and hoarse.

  Karen floated into his open arms with the sense that this was where she belonged. The whole world could be at war, but as long as she was loved by Rand, there was nothing that could touch her. She wound her arms around his neck, marveling at the strength of his muscular shoulders. His mouth took possession of hers. It was a demanding kiss that parted her lips. Rand kissed her cheek, her ear, her eyelids, and when she groaned, he returned to her mouth. Again, Karen was trapped in a whirlpool—the warmth, the taste, the feel of him—until it didn’t matter if she ever surfaced.

  With her head resting against his chest, she could hear the erradic tempo of his heart and knew he was as affected by their kiss as she. His breathing was hoarse and uneven; his arm gently caressed her back as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

  “I have the feeling that either we start work now or we’ll spend the entire evening exactly like this.” The reluctance in his voice thrilled Karen.

  She agreed, knowing she’d have a difficult time speaking, almost regretting the need to pull herself away from the hazy fog of pleasure that blurred her mind.

  Reluctantly, Rand withdrew his arms and sat on the corner of his desk, giving Karen his chair, the most comfortable in the office.

  When Karen began reading, her voice was shaky and a bit awkward, but gradually she gained confidence, and her tone became steady and sure.

  Rand’s transformation from lover to professor was accomplished with an ease Karen envied. Could it be he wasn’t as affected by their lovemaking as she? Quickly, she dismissed the thought. Rand had lived with rigid self-control all his life. He was as affected as she; it just didn’t show.

  After reading each paper, Karen wrote Rand’s comments on top of the page. She found his grading system to be stringent and uncompromising, but she was impressed by his fairness and judgment. His comments to the students included some form of encouragement, but he didn’t offer praise unless it was warranted.

  At the end of the first stack of papers, Karen’s throat felt dry and scratchy.

  “You need a cup of coffee,” Rand commented before she began reading the next pile. “There’s usually a pot of coffee in the kitchen.”

  Karen stood, stretching her tired muscles. “Do you want a cup while I’m at it?”

  “I never drink and grade papers,” he admonished her jokingly.

  Karen laughed and suddenly couldn’t resist kissing him. Rand’s reaction was immediate, pulling her into his arms and deepening the contact. “Karen,” he groaned in warning, “you’re not making this any easier.”

  She straightened. “Sorry.” Even now her voice sounded faintly raw from the lingering effects of his kiss.

  “Kar
en”—he stopped her—“bring me a cup, after all. I’m going to need something to clear my head.” His eyes were warm and loving. “You don’t exactly encourage the sensible side of my nature. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sire,” she answered saucily.

  The next hour and a half were interrupted only by coffee breaks or when Karen had a question about something Rand needed to explain. They found they worked well together. Everything about them was right, Karen mused on a happy note.

  “Didn’t you say something about buying me dinner?” she asked quietly after marking Rand’s comments on the last paper.

  Rand walked across the office, flexing his shoulder muscles as if he were stiff. “I had Dorothy pack us a dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” His back was turned toward her.

  “Dorothy?” Was there someone besides Cora she needed to contend with?

  “Dorothy is Carl’s wife.” Rand paused, taking a deep breath before raking his hand through his thick hair. “The thing is, Karen, I don’t like to eat in restaurants. Most blind people don’t. It presents an unfamiliar environment.”

  Karen could have bit her tongue. How could she have been so thoughtless, so insensitive? She had made it necessary for Rand to admit something he considered a fault. It was a humbling experience that set him aside and made him appear different.

  Karen was appalled at her own insensitivity. “You know, I thought I smelled something delicious when I came in this afternoon. But I couldn’t very well accuse you of hiding prime rib in your desk drawer.”

  The tension faded from Rand’s face. She’d done right by making light of his admission; apologizing would only have made the situation worse.

  “Dorothy did pack roast beef. Between the ginger scent you’re wearing and the aroma of beef, I’ve been like a man on the rack for the last two hours.”

  Karen drew a deep, troubled breath. “Well, which one of us would you like to devour first?”

  Rand groaned and reached for her, pressing a hard kiss upon her lips. But before he allowed it to develop into something deeper, he straightened. “I think you’d better unpack the picnic basket before you find out. Carl put it in the coat closet against the wall.”

  Whoever Dorothy was, she certainly knew how to cook. The meal couldn’t have been prepared or packed more efficiently. Karen spread the tablecloth on the thick carpet of Rand’s office and unpacked their meal of French dip sandwiches made on crusty French bread. The beef, sliced thin, was piled on so high Karen doubted she would be able to fit the sandwich in her mouth. She poured steaming au jus into the bowls while Rand removed the cork from the bottle of wine.

  “Fresh strawberries!” Karen exclaimed enthusiastically. “Where in heaven’s name did she ever find strawberries this time of year?”

  Rand chuckled, the sound of his laughter brightening the evening. “I never ask. The woman’s a wonder.”

  As they ate, Karen’s admiration for Dorothy grew. Everything was perfect, beautifully done.

  “Ready for a strawberry?” Karen questioned, but when Rand reached for one, she restrained his hand and instead carried it to his mouth. Hesitantly, Rand accepted it, rubbing the juice from his chin as he bit into the tender pulp.

  “Your turn,” he insisted. Her lips trembled as his fingers touched her mouth, awakening within her a whole range of sensual sensations. When they kissed, the taste of fresh strawberries, mingled with the wine, was more potent than anything Karen had ever experienced.

  His hands fell away from her shoulders as Rand took a deep, uneven breath. “I think we’d both benefit from some cold air.”

  Karen’s breath wasn’t any less jagged. “Yes,” she said, finding her voice barely audible against the tightening in her throat. She was so intoxicated with her love for Rand that tears stung her eyes.

  The night was cold and dark; the wind bit into Karen as they walked hand in hand across the campus. They needed the cold to put things into perspective, to remove them from the passion of the moment.

  By mutual agreement, they chose the paved pathway leading to Commencement Bay. Lovers of all ages had used the path leading to the beautiful waters of Puget Sound. There was a freshness in the air, and Karen inhaled deeply, finding the faint odor of salt water pleasant. The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she ignored the cold, taking delight in the simple pleasure of walking along the beach with the man she loved. There was no need for words; it was their spirits that communicated. Rand needn’t voice his love; his arm, pressing her possessively against his side, warding off the brunt of the wind, said it far more effectively than words.

  Karen was too full of pleasure to speak. When Rand paused, stopping to gaze into the dark, cold night, the only sound was the pounding of the surf against the smooth beach. Somehow Karen found herself in his arms; their lips met in a fiery kiss that fused them together. Karen clung to him. He was her love, her life for all eternity. Nothing could ever make her happier than what she was at this moment.

  “Oh, Karen,” he groaned, his voice deep and pained.

  “No.” Her fingers hushed his lips. “Don’t talk.” She buried her face against his coat, feeling the roughness of his breath against her hair.

  He walked Karen to the parking lot where she had left her car. Again, he kissed her, a feather-light kiss that teased and promised.

  “I’ll be out of town this weekend,” he whispered into her hair. His finger gently circled the small of her back in a sensuous movement that melted her bones. “Meet me at the airport Sunday afternoon.”

  Karen seemed incapable of speech; his physical impact on her was complete.

  “I’d like to show you my home.” Gently, he released her from his embrace.

  “I’d like that,” she managed, extracting herself from his arms.

  He opened the car door for her. “Drive carefully,” he cautioned, and Karen watched him from the rearview mirror as he stood in the lot until she was safely on her way.

  Sunday afternoon, Karen chose a dark chestnut-colored wool skirt and a cream cashmere sweater with a single gold strand woven in a delicate pattern to wear to the airport. She debated between boots or her heels, finally deciding on the knee-high leather boots because it was raining. She was adding the final touches to her makeup when Matthew spoke.

  “Ye seeing Rand again?” His eyes showed appreciation for Karen’s natural good looks.

  She turned sharply at the unexpected intrusion, her eyes angry. “Dad, you did it again. When will you learn to knock?” It was more a statement of indignation than a question.

  “Lass”—Matthew gestured helplessly, showing impatience with himself—“I keep forgetting.”

  It was impossible to be angry with her father when she was in such high spirits. “Well, try, won’t you?”

  Karen knew he was just as likely to walk in unannounced the next time.

  “Ye seeing Rand again?”

  Karen knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d told him about their dinner date. “Yes, I’m meeting him at the airport. We’re having dinner at his home near Graham.”

  “You love him, don’t ye, lass?” The question was more of an announcement, and Karen couldn’t deny the obvious. Besides, Matthew was a master in the art of inquisition and would have dragged the words from her one way or another.

  “Yes, I do … very much.” Self-consciously, she lowered her eyes.

  Matthew flashed her a proud smile. “Randall Prescott will make me a fine son-in-law. You’ve chosen well.”

  “Dad,” Karen said with indignation, “you’re rushing things. There’s been no talk of marriage.”

  “Aye, but there will be,” he said confidently.

  Karen laughed impishly. “If I have anything to say about it, there will be.” It was impossible to imagine life without Rand now.

  “Ye know, the course of true love between your mother and me wasn’t smooth. I had my problems getting her to agree to marriage.”

  Karen was shocked. As far as she
knew, her mother and father had been madly in love from the time they’d met.

  Her eyes must have shown her surprise. “Your mother was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I took one look at her sweet face and knew I wanted her for my wife. But I was thirteen years older than Madeline, and her parents didn’t take kindly to a thirty-one-year-old man courting their teenage daughter.”

  “Little wonder.” Karen knew, of course, that thirteen years separated her parents, but she’d never thought of it in terms of eighteen and thirty-one. Nor had she been aware that her grandparents had voiced any objection to her father.

  “Not only did Madeline’s parents not trust me, but yer mother had more beaux than a movie star. For a while I became discouraged, but in time I was able to win her over.”

  “But, Dad, what did you do?”

  Matthew followed Karen into the kitchen and bent close to whisper: “I’ve never told another living soul this, but I tricked your mother into marrying me. But not for a day did she regret it.”

  “You didn’t,” Karen said with a gasp.

  “Aye, but I did.”

  Karen could hardly believe what she was hearing. “How did you trick Mom?”

  His whole face broke into a wide, mischievous grin. “I whisked her away. By the time we arrived in Idaho, she’d agreed to be me wife.”

  Karen felt the sudden need to sit down. “You mean to tell me you kidnapped Mom?”

  Matthew laughed boyishly. “It was hardly a kidnapping. I was just helping her make up her mind.”

  For a moment, Karen was dumbfounded. “Honestly, Dad, you astonish me.”

  “Aye, it was a brave thing, but your mother never regretted it. I knew she loved me.”

  Karen would have said more, but her doorbell rang. When she introduced Carl to her father, the two men shook hands respectfully. Karen slipped on her full-length leather coat, and the three left together. Matthew was invited to Evan and Milly Forsyth’s for Sunday dinner and promised to give them Karen’s love.