Adam Then and Now

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

Oh. So she didn’t expect the conversation to serve as an opening. She wanted closure. Pain stabbed his heart. “Does it matter?”

  She met his gaze. “It matters to me.”

  He hadn’t been able to resist that look of supplication twenty-three years ago, and he couldn’t resist it now. He put down the television guide and returned to the table. “All right. Where shall I start?”

  “From the beginning, from the time you left my house that night. Did you stop off at Jimmy’s?”

  “No.” He pushed his plate aside and leaned his forearms on the table. “After I left you, I went home and sat in the family room, and sort of stared off into space, trying to adjust to the fact I’d just agreed to marry you.”

  He looked into her eyes. Big mistake. They’d turned soft as a fawn’s. He remembered that look, too. It used to mean good things were about to happen between them.

  She put down her glass and left her hand resting beside it. “Go on,” she murmured.

  He noticed the short distance between his hand and hers as they lay on the table—a miniature no-man’s-land that neither dared cross. He didn’t move his hand closer, but neither did he retreat. “I feel a little like an actor on opening night. I’ve practiced this speech hundreds of times, but I’ve never given it to the intended audience.”

  “Then maybe you should now.”

  “Maybe I should.” His gaze drifted to her mouth. Mentally he traced the deep bow of her upper lip and the seductive lushness of her full lower lip. A generous mouth, so capable of giving. With an effort he looked away. “So, I was sitting in the family room. My folks had a copy of Life magazine lying on the coffee table. I picked it up, and there was a story about this little village in Nam.”

  She stayed absolutely still, all her attention trained on him, just as he’d imagined she might listen. Her complete absorption gave him goose bumps.

  “The people seemed just like my next-door neighbors, except for one thing. They never knew from one day to the next if they’d all die. All that kept that from happening was their wits and the protection of American soldiers.”

  Her throat moved in a convulsive swallow. “And you left me to go and protect them?”

  “They seemed to need me a whole lot more than you did.”

  Pain flashed in her eyes. She opened her mouth to deny his words.

  “It’s true, Loren,” he said gently. “You were—are—one of the most self-sufficient people I know.”

  Her throat worked again. “You left me because I could take care of myself and they couldn’t?”

  “No, not just that.”

  “Then what else?”

  His universe narrowed to the expressions playing across her face. They reflected a depth of emotion that mirrored his. His pulse rate climbed. “I wasn’t strong enough to give you up on that kind of logic.” A flicker of passion lit her eyes and he focused on it, coaxing it into a brighter flame. “You had me in the palm of your hand.”

  “But you left,” she whispered.

  His gaze didn’t waver from hers. “I also went through my yearbook that night, seeing friends who’d since lost arms or legs, some who’d died. Most of them had girlfriends, wanted to live a normal life, but they went.” His throat tightened as it always did when he thought of the ones who’d sacrificed so much more than he.

  He glanced down, taking a moment to get a grip on his emotions, and realized with a jolt that her hand had crept closer to his. He looked into her eyes and wondered if she even realized it. “So I had to go, too, Loren,” he said.

  “But we could have gotten married first like we planned,” she said in a throaty murmur.

  He shook his head, let his gaze sink into hers. “Once I’d made love to you, I wouldn’t have been able to go away. You knew that, didn’t you?”

  She hesitated, her color high. “Yes,” she said at last. “That’s what I was counting on. But the plan didn’t work.”

  “Because I never gave it a chance to work.”

  With sheer strength of will, he kept from reaching for her. He wouldn’t make the first move. It had to be her. He held his breath, willing her to touch him. When at last the tips of her fingers brushed his, he closed his eyes. Her tentative caress felt like butterfly wings against his skin.

  Her touch was sweet, so sweet. And it was driving him insane. At last his control snapped. In one swift movement, he captured the butterfly in a fierce grip. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her fast. Slowly, he opened his eyes, finally allowing her to see the beast of passion that had slept within him for twenty-three years. And the beast had been awakened.

  * * *

  BARBECUING HAMBURGERS on the deck with Walt and Josh was more fun than Daphne had expected. The deck was partially covered, and to escape the rain they’d moved the grill and picnic table under the overhang. Fortunately, the wind was hitting the front of the house, so they kept dry. Smelling the smoke from the grill as she sat looking at Oak Creek rushing along just beyond the deck made Daphne think a little bit of camping, especially with the kerosene lantern Walt had just lit. Probably her dad hadn’t meant what he’d said about camping, either.

  “Ready for another one?” Walt asked, coming across the deck with a steaming patty balanced on his spatula.

  “Sure, why not?” She dug out another bun from the package on the table and slapped it open on her plate.

  “I don’t even have to ask Josh.” He returned to the grill for another patty.

  Josh came through the sliding door carrying a refilled bowl of potato salad and more ranch-style beans. “Was somebody taking my name in vain?”

  “Your grandfather thinks you eat a lot,” Daphne said, laughing.

  “Whoa. News flash. Call Peter Jennings.” Josh grinned and set the food on the table. Then he lifted an eyebrow at Daphne’s plate as she layered on tomato slices, lettuce, onions, pickles, ketchup and mustard. “You’re packing it away pretty good yourself.”

  “I’m just trying to be polite.” She pressed the bun top down on her four-inch sandwich.

  “Yeah, sure. I told you Gramps cooks the best burgers in the West.”

  “Mesquite chips,” Walt said, sitting down to his second hamburger. “That’s the secret.”

  “You should tell my dad.” Daphne bit into her hamburger and juice dribbled down her chin.

  “Does he cook out a lot?” Walt asked.

  “He never does. But I wish he would. Besides, we’re going camping this summer. He’ll cook out then.” She could pretend it would happen, anyway.

  “There are some great camping places around here,” Josh said. “Mom, Gramps and I used to go out a lot, but once I started college we sort of slacked off. If you need a tent, though, we’ve got one. And lots of other camping stuff.”

  “Thanks. Dad’ll probably buy everything.” She didn’t dare accept the offer of a tent, because, when she never borrowed it, they’d know her father hadn’t taken her camping, after all.

  After dinner, she helped clean up and then they all sat at the picnic table and played rummy. She was having a blast until Walt said it was time for him and Josh to hit the hay.

  “Maybe Josh would like to come to the resort and sit in the Jacuzzi for a while,” she said, flashing Josh a seductive look. “The rain’s slowed down.”

  Josh’s eyes lit up and she figured she’d have company for at least a few more hours.

  But Walt shook his head. “I’d rather he didn’t. He’s got a tight schedule tomorrow. Has to be up by five. I don’t want him working around machinery if he’s not well-rested.”

  Daphne noticed Josh’s frown of resentment, but he didn’t say anything to contradict his grandfather. She should have known he’d be the kind to toe the line.

  “Thanks for the offer,” Josh said. “Maybe another time.”

  “Maybe.” Daphne put on her bright and breezy look. “Anyway, there was a guy hanging around the pool this morning. He asked me if I’d planned to go to the lounge for some dancing tonight
. I told him I might. That sounds like more fun than soaking in hot water. See you later. Thanks for the meal.”

  She made a quick exit, smiling all the way out. Then she put the top down on the Geo and zoomed away into the night. She drove as fast as she dared on the slick, winding roads. The wind in her hair helped. The radio turned up loud helped. She hoped they’d believed the story about some guy who wanted her to go dancing.

  Her mood of defiance lasted until she opened the door of her quiet, solitary room. The door to her father’s room was still open, and she slammed it shut.

  After wandering around the room for a few minutes, she picked up the phone and punched in a number. She got the housekeeper at the house in Fountain Hills. “Georgia? Listen, what’s the number in Aspen where Mom is? Yeah, I’m pretty sure she was going to stay there a few more days before she went on to Reno, but give me that number, just in case. Thanks.” She pressed the disconnect button and punched in the Colorado area code and the number of the Aspen spa where Anita Riordan had gone to shed a few pounds before a planned rendezvous with Barnaby in Reno.

  The spa switchboard operator connected her with Anita’s room and she answered on the second ring.

  Daphne felt tears pressing against the backs of her eyes. “Hi, Mom. It’s me.”

  “Daphne. Are you having a good time with your father?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he didn’t really come up here to have a vacation with me, that’s why. He’s all hot to get some aerial pictures of some stupid bridge.”

  Anita sighed. “I’ve been telling you this for years, Daphne. His business comes first. That’s why I finally left him. But I’m sorry it isn’t working out. Would you like me to speak to him?”

  “You can’t. He’s not even here.”

  “Not there? Where is he?”

  “Over in Laughlin, where the stupid bridge is. And that’s the other part that stinks. He’s got a thing going for this aerial photographer, Loren Stanfield. He’s over there with her, supposedly trying to get pictures of the bridge. But I have a pretty good idea what he’s really doing.”

  There was a brief pause. “Well, I’ve warned you about this before, Daphne. He’s never taken much of an interest in you. I’ve tried to make up for it as best I could.”

  Daphne swiped at her tears. “I know. I appreciate it. But I just wish”

  “It does no good to wish with a man like Adam.” There was another pause. “I’d have you come up here, but”

  “No, Mom. That’s supposed to be your getaway. You deserve it.”

  “Something you said interests me. Isn’t that bridge the one Barnaby’s company is putting up?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never paid much attention to that stuff.”

  “I wonder why Adam’s taking pictures of it?”

  “I think it’s just an excuse. It’s this Loren person he’s after.” Daphne had hoped for a little revenge by seducing Loren’s precious son, but Walt had foiled that plan.

  “I’m really sorry, Daphne. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, then. Good night.”

  “Good night, Mom.” Daphne decided she’d just have to figure out some other way to sock it to Loren Stanfield. And her father.

  * * *

  ANITA HOPED she hadn’t sounded too interested in the bridge pictures or hustled Daphne off the phone too quickly. Being careful of her new manicure, she used the eraser end of a pencil to push the buttons on the bedside phone.

  “Barn? Hi. I’m fine, but Adam’s doing something strange, and I thought you’d better know about it immediately. He’s hired a woman in Sedona by the name of Loren Stanfield to take aerial photographs of the bridge site....”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LOREN’S PULSE leapt at the blaze of primitive need in Adam’s blue eyes. Perhaps she’d known all along they’d come to this moment.

  His grip on her hand tightened a notch. “You don’t plan to see me again after tomorrow,” he said.

  Her chest felt tight and breathing was difficult. “I think it would be best that way.”

  “For you.”

  Her lips were dry. Heart pounding, she moistened them. “For everyone.”

  His glance flicked to her mouth. “All right. We won’t debate it.” His gaze recaptured hers. “But that’s tomorrow, isn’t it? Several hours away.”

  Her body began to quiver in response to the look in his eyes. She had no doubt where this conversation was leading. “Yes,” she whispered.

  Without relinquishing her hand, he stood. Then slowly he drew her to her feet. “Then give me tonight.”

  She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to prevent a moan as she shook her head. “We’ll hurt each other,” she said tightly.

  The demand lurking in his eyes was relentless. “We already have. We’ve already proved we can take it.”

  Pain clogged her throat. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Yes, you can.” His voice was ragged, his grip on her hand almost painful. “So can I. We’re tough.”

  She watched him through swimming eyes, in an agony of indecision. He wasn’t the man for her. He had serious family problems and he still had the idealism and the potential for self-sacrifice that had driven them apart before. Should she trade a few hours in his arms for a lifetime of heartache? Should he?

  “A long time ago you asked me for one night. The tables have turned.” His voice grew husky. “Give me this, Loren. Give me this before you go.”

  Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “And what if the tables have turned in another way? What if I’m the one who can’t leave afterward, even if I know it’s the wisest decision?”

  “I guess you’ll have to take that chance.”

  “You didn’t. You ran away.”

  “I’m not running now.”

  She’d never wanted him this much, not even at eighteen. His story of Vietnam had left her vulnerable, needing to hold him and be held. Instinct shoved away logic, making the choice. “Neither am I,” she whispered.

  With a groan, he pulled her roughly into his arms, the movement rattling the dishes on the table next to them. His lips came down on hers with a ferocity that took her breath away. Then he deepened the kiss, and her heart wrenched. She could taste desire and frustration, perhaps even anger. And overlaying every emotion he gave her, the salt of his tears.

  This time he didn’t lead her gently toward passion, he hurled her into the inferno, stoking the fire within her until she blazed with a matching heat. When he reached under her shirt, he sucked in his breath at discovering she wore nothing beneath it. And then, as ravenous as he’d seemed before, his mood changed to tenderness, almost to reverence. As his hand closed softly over her breast, he shuddered.

  He caressed her with such gentleness tears escaped from her own eyes. His touch was so perfect, so right. He’d been the first to stroke her like this, and her body had never unlearned him. She moaned against his mouth as her body tightened and arched into his, seeking his answering tension, begging for connection.

  His mouth left hers and kissed her wet cheeks, her eyelids, her throat. “Don’t cry,” he said, his own voice rough with tears.

  “I won’t if you won’t.”

  “It’s a deal. Oh, God, Loren...Loren.” Gently he pushed up her T-shirt, uncovering both breasts. She lifted her arms, and he pulled the garment over her head and tossed it aside. Catching both her hands in his, he stepped back.

  She flushed under the warmth of his gaze.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.

  Her breasts tingled, needing his touch once again. Her breathing quickened and her lips parted, wanting...wanting. With a soft smile of awareness, he stepped forward and scooped her up. She held his gaze as he carried her through the connecting doors to his room, where no light shone except that spilling from her room. He placed her on the bed and stepped away, reaching for the
back of his T-shirt to pull it over his head.

  “Wait, please.”

  He paused.

  “If tonight has to last me a lifetime, I want more light.”

  Without speaking, he walked to the bedside lamp and switched it on. His voice was soft. “Is that enough?”

  “Yes.” She quivered with longing. “Stand right there. In the light.”

  He pulled off his shirt, revealing a jagged white welt down his bicep.

  She gasped and reached out toward it. “What is that?”

  “Nothing.” He kicked off his shoes.

  “But”

  “A sniper with poor aim. Other people died. This was just an inconvenience.”

  Her stomach churned at the thought of a bullet ripping through his arm. Poor aim. The sniper had meant the bullet to rip through Adam’s heart. And Adam would have died in the jungle....

  He pushed his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and stripped away shorts and briefs in one movement. She braced herself for more scars. But no, he was perfect—lean, strong, his manhood thrusting from a swirl of dark hair. He had lived. Her Adam had lived. And for one night, he belonged to her again. Gratitude filled her, and she held out her arms.

  Adam exhaled slowly. He couldn’t believe that she was here. Loren had been the subject of his fantasies from the time he’d been old enough to have fantasies. An hour ago, he’d been prepared to give her up, but now she was smiling at him. Wanting him. After so long.

  Yet she’d agreed to only one night. The beginning might also be the ending.

  “Adam?”

  He slid down beside her, cradling her face in both hands and brushing his thumb across her lower lip, swollen from his kisses. “I’m here.”

  “You looked so fierce.”

  “I guess I did.” He tasted her lips, then raised his head to look into her eyes, heavy-lidded with desire. “Dreams of a lifetime don’t come true every day.” His breath mingled with hers as he leaned toward her again. “I’m possessive about this one.”

  As he savored the kiss, the pounding promise of what was to come, he realized she hadn’t asked him about birth control. His heart quickened at the possibility that she didn’t care. But he did. He wouldn’t burden her with a child now any more than he would have twenty-three years ago.