by Nora Roberts
There was the man with reddened arms and a sweaty T-shirt who pored over a racing form, and another in casually elegant slacks who sipped something long and cool. She saw women in quietly expensive dresses holding field glasses and families treating their children to the sport of kings. There was a man in a gray hat with tattoos snaking up both arms and a boy laughing on top of his father’s shoulders.
They’d been to baseball games, tennis matches, drag races across the country. Always she saw faces in the crowd that seemed to have nothing in common except the game. The games had been invented, Bryan mused, and turned into industries. It was an interesting aspect of human nature. But people kept the games alive; they wanted to be amused, they wanted to compete.
She spotted one man leaning against the rail watching a race as though his life depended on the outcome. His body was coiled, his face damp. She caught him in profile.
A quick scan showed her a woman in a pale rose dress and summer hat. She watched the race idly, distanced from it the way an empress might’ve been from a contest in a coliseum. Bryan framed her as the crowd roared the horses down the stretch.
Shade rested a hip on the rail and shot the horses in varying positions around the track, ending with the final lunge across the finish line. Before, he’d framed in the odds board where numbers flashed and tempted. Now he waited until the results were posted and focused on it again.
Before the races were over, Shade saw Bryan standing at the two-dollar window. With her camera hanging around her neck and her ticket in her hand, she walked back toward the stands.
“Haven’t you got any willpower?” he asked her.
“No.” She’d found a vending machine and offered Shade a candy bar that was already softening in the heat. “Besides, there’s a horse in the next race called Made in the Shade.” When his eyebrow lifted up, she grinned. “How could I resist?”
He wanted to tell her she was foolish. He wanted to tell her she was unbearably sweet. Instead, he drew her sunglasses down her nose until he could see her eyes. “What’s his number?”
“Seven.”
Shade glanced over at the odds board and shook his head. “Thirty-five to one. How’d you bet?”
“To win, of course.”
Taking her arm, he led her down to the rail again. “You can kiss your two bucks goodbye, hotshot.”
“Or I can win seventy.” Bryan pushed her glasses back in place. “Then I’ll take you out to dinner. If I lose,” she continued as the horses were led to the starting gate, “I’ve always got plastic. I can still take you out to dinner.”
“Deal,” Shade told her as the bell rang. Bryan watched the horses lunge forward. They were nearly to the first turn before she managed to find number seven third from the back. She glanced up to see Shade shake his head. “Don’t give up on him yet.”
“When you bet on a long shot, love, you’ve got to be ready to lose.”
A bit flustered by his absent use of the endearment, she turned back to the race. Shade rarely called her by name, much less one of those sweetly intimate terms. A long shot, she agreed silently. But she wasn’t altogether sure she was as prepared to lose as she might’ve been.
“He’s moving up,” she said quickly as number seven passed three horses with long, hard-driving strides. Forgetting herself, she leaned on the rail and laughed. “Look at him! He’s moving up.” Lifting her camera, she used the telephoto lens like a field glass. “God, he’s beautiful,” she murmured. “I didn’t know he was so beautiful.”
Watching the horse, she forgot the race, the competition. He was beautiful. She could see the jockey riding low in a blur of color that had a style of its own, but it was the horse, muscles bunching, legs pounding, that held her fascinated. He wanted to win; she could feel it. No matter how many races he’d lost, how many times he’d been led back to the stables sweating, he wanted to win.
Hope. She sensed it but she no longer heard the call of the crowd around her. The horse straining to overtake the leaders hadn’t lost hope. He believed he could win, and if you believed hard enough… With a last burst of speed, he nipped by the leader and crossed the wire like a champion.
“I’ll be damned,” Shade murmured. He found he had his arm around Bryan’s shoulders as they watched the winner take his victory lap in long, steady strides.
“Beautiful.” Her voice was low and thick.
“Hey.” Shade tipped up her chin when he heard the tears. “It was only a two-dollar bet.”
She shook her head. “He did it. He wanted to win and he just didn’t give up until he did.”
Shade ran a finger down her nose. “Ever hear of luck?”
“Yeah.” More composed, she took his hand in hers. “And this had nothing to do with it.”
For a moment he studied her, then with a shake of his head he lowered his mouth to hers lightly, sweetly. “And this from a woman who claims to be simple.”
And happy, she thought as her fingers laced with his. Ridiculously happy. “Let’s go collect my winnings.”
“There was a rumor,” he began as they worked their way through the stands, “about you buying dinner.”
“Yeah. I heard something about it myself.”
She was a woman of her word. That evening as the sky flashed with lightning and echoed with the thunder of a summer storm, they stepped into a quiet, low-lighted restaurant.
“Linen napkins,” Bryan murmured to Shade as they were led to a table.
He laughed in her ear as he pulled out her chair. “You’re easily impressed.”
“True enough,” she agreed, “but I haven’t seen a linen napkin since June.” Picking it off her plate, she ran it through her hands. It was smooth and rich. “There isn’t a vinyl seat or a plastic light in this place. There won’t be any little plastic containers of ketchup either.” With a wink, she knocked a finger against a plate and let it ring. “Try that with paper and all you get is a thump.”
Shade watched her experiment with the water glass next. “All this from the queen of fast food?”
“A steady diet of hamburgers is all right, but I like a change of pace. Let’s have champagne,” she decided as their waiter came over. She glanced at the list, made her choice and turned back to Shade again.
“You just blew your winnings on a bottle of wine.”
“Easy come, easy go.” Cupping her chin on her hands, she smiled at him. “Did I mention you look wonderful by candlelight?”
“No.” Amused, he leaned forward as well. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”
“Maybe, but you didn’t seem in a rush to come out with it. Besides, I’m buying. However…” She sent him a slow, simmering look. “If you’d like to say something flattering I wouldn’t be offended.”
Lazily, she ran a finger along the back of his hand, making him wonder why any man would object to the benefits of women’s liberation. It wasn’t a hardship to be wined and dined. Nor would it be a hardship to relax and be seduced. All the same, Shade decided as he lifted her hand to his lips, there was something to be said for partnership.
“I might say that you always look lovely, but tonight…” He let his gaze wander over her face. “Tonight, you take my breath away.”
Momentarily flustered, she allowed her hand to stay in his. How was it he could say such things so calmly, so unexpectedly? And how could she, when she was used to casual, inconsequential compliments from men, deal with one that seemed so serious? Carefully, she warned herself. Very carefully.
“In that case I’ll have to remember to use lipstick more often.”
With a quick smile he kissed her fingers again. “You forgot to put any on.”
“Oh.” Stuck, Bryan stared at him.
“Madam?” The wine steward held out the bottle of champagne, label up.
“Yes.” She let out a quiet breath. “Yes, that’s fine.”
Still watching Shade, she heard the cork give into pressure and the wine bubble into her glass. She sipped, closing her eyes to
enjoy it. Then with a nod she waited until the steward filled both glasses. Steadier, Bryan lifted her glass and smiled at Shade.
“To?”
“One summer,” he said and touched his rim to hers. “One fascinating summer.”
It made her lips curve again, so that her eyes reflected the smile as she sipped. “I expected you to be a terrible bore to work with.”
“Really.” Shade let the champagne rest on his tongue a moment. Like Bryan, it was smooth and quiet with energy bubbling underneath. “I expected you to be a pain in the—”
“However,” she interrupted dryly. “I’ve been pleased that my preconception didn’t hold true.” She waited a moment. “And yours?”
“Did,” he said easily, then laughed when she narrowed her eyes at him. “But I wouldn’t have enjoyed you nearly as much if it’d been otherwise.”
“I liked your other compliment better,” she mumbled and picked up her menu. “But I suppose since you’re stingy with them, I have to take what I get.”
“I only say what I mean.”
“I know.” She pushed back her hair as she skimmed the menu. “But I—oh look, they’ve got chocolate mousse.”
“Most people start at the appetizers.”
“I’d rather work backward, then I can gauge how much I want to eat and still have room for dessert.”
“I can’t imagine you turning down anything chocolate.”
“Right you are.”
“What I can’t understand is how you can shovel it in the way you do and not be fat.”
“Just lucky, I guess.” With the menu open over her plate she smiled at him. “Don’t you have any weaknesses, Shade?”
“Yeah.” He looked at her until she was baffled and flustered again. “A few.” And one of them, he thought as he watched her eyes, was becoming more and more acute.
“Are you ready to order?”
Distracted, Bryan looked up at the well-mannered waiter. “What?”
“Are you ready to order?” he repeated. “Or would you like more time?”
“The lady’ll have the chocolate mousse,” Shade said smoothly.
“Yes, sir.” Unflappable, the waiter marked it down. “Will that be all?”
“Not by a long shot,” Shade told him and picked up his wine again.
With a laugh, Bryan worked her way through the menu.
“Stuffed.” Bryan decided over an hour later as they drove through a hard, driving rain. “Absolutely stuffed.”
Shade cruised through an amber light. “Watching you eat is an amazing way to pass the time.”
“We’re here to entertain,” she said lightly. Snuggled back in her seat with champagne swimming in her head and thunder grumbling in a bad-tempered sky, she was content to ride along wherever he chose to go. “It was sweet of you to let me have a bite of your cheesecake.”
“Half,” Shade corrected her. Deliberately he turned away from the campground they’d decided on that afternoon. The wipers made quick swishing sounds against the windshield. “But you’re welcome.”
“It was lovely.” She let out a sigh, quiet and sleepy. “I like being pampered. Tonight should get me through another month of fast-food chains and diners with stale doughnuts.” Content, she glanced around at the dark, wet streets, the puddles at the curbs. She liked the rain, especially at night when it made everything glisten. Watching it, she fell to dreaming, rousing herself only when he turned into the lot of a small motel.
“No campground tonight,” he said before she could question. “Wait here while I get a room.”
She didn’t have time to comment before he was out of the van and dashing through the rain. No campground, she thought, looking over her shoulder at the narrow twin bunks on either side of the van. No skinny, makeshift beds and trickling showers.
With a grin, she jumped up and began to gather his equipment and hers. She never gave the suitcases a thought.
“Champagne, linen napkins and now a bed.” She laughed as he climbed back into the van, soaking wet. “I’m going to get spoiled.”
He wanted to spoil her. There was no logic to it, only fact. Tonight, if only for tonight, he wanted to spoil her. “Room’s around the back.” When Bryan dragged the equipment forward, he drove slowly around, checking numbers on the lines of doors. “Here.” He strapped camera bags over his shoulder. “Wait a minute.” She’d grabbed another bag and her purse by the time he’d pulled open her door from the outside. To her astonishment, she found herself lifted into his arms.
“Shade!” But the rain slapped into her face, making her gasp as he dashed across the lot to an outside door.
“Least I could do after you sprang for dinner,” he told her as he maneuvered the oversize key into the lock. Bryan was laughing as he struggled to open the door holding her, the camera bags and tripods.
Kicking the door closed with his foot, he fastened his mouth on hers. Still laughing, Bryan clung to him.
“Now we’re both wet,” she murmured, running a hand through his hair.
“We’ll dry off in bed.” Before she knew his intention, Bryan was falling through the air and landing with two bounces full length onto the mattress.
“So romantic,” she said dryly, but her body stayed limp. She lay there, smiling, because he’d made a rare frivolous gesture and she intended to enjoy it.
Her dress clung to her, her hair fanned out. He’d seen her change for dinner and knew she wore a thin teddy cut high at the thigh, low over her breasts, and sheer, sheer stockings. He could love her now, love her for hours. It wouldn’t be enough. He knew how relaxed, how pliant her body could be. How full of fire, strength, vibrancy. He could want all of it, have all of it. It wouldn’t be enough.
He was an expert at capturing the moment, the emotions, the message. Letting his own feelings hum, he reached for his camera bag.
“What’re you doing?”
When she started to sit up, Shade turned back. “Stay there a minute.”
Intrigued and wary, she watched him set his camera. “I don’t—”
“Just lie back like you were,” he interrupted. “Relaxed and rather pleased with yourself.”
His intention was obvious enough now. Bryan lifted a brow. An obsession, she thought, amused. The camera was an obsession for both of them. “Shade, I’m a photographer, not a model.”
“Humor me.” Gently, he pushed her back on the bed.
“I’ve too much champagne in my system to argue with you.” She smiled up at him as he held the camera over his face. “You can play if you like, or take serious pictures if you must. As long as I don’t have to do anything.”
She did nothing but smile and he began to throb. So often he’d used the camera as a barrier between himself and his subject, other times as a conductor for his emotion, emotion he refused to let loose any other way. Now, it was neither. The emotion was already in him and barriers weren’t possible.
He framed her quickly and shot, but was unsatisfied.
“That’s not what I want.” He was so businesslike that Bryan didn’t see it as a defense, only as his manner. But when he came over, pulled her into a sitting position and unzipped her dress, her mouth fell open.
“Shade!”
“It’s that lazy sex,” he murmured as he slipped the dress down over one shoulder. “Those incredible waves of sensuality that take no effort at all, but just are. It’s the way your eyes look.” But when his came back to hers, she forgot the joke she’d been about to make. “The way they look when I touch you—like this.” Slowly, he ran a hand over her naked shoulder. “The way they look just after I kiss you—like this.” He kissed her, lingering over it while her mind emptied of thought and her body filled with sensation.
“Like this,” he whispered, more determined than ever to capture that moment, make it tangible so that he could hold it in his hands and see it. “Just like this,” he said again, backing off one step, then two.
“The way you look just before we make love. The
way you look just after.”
Helplessly aroused, Bryan stared into the lens of the camera as he lifted it. He caught her there, like a quarry in the cross hairs of a scope, empty of thoughts, jumbled with feeling. At the same time, he caught himself.
For an instant her heart was in her eyes. The shutter opened, closed and captured it. When he printed the photograph, he thought as he carefully set down his camera, would he see what she felt? Would he be certain of his own feelings?
Now she sat on the bed, her dress disarrayed, her hair tumbled, her eyes clouded. Secrets, Shade thought again. They both had them. Was it possible he’d locked a share of each of their secrets on film inside his camera?
When he looked at her now he saw a woman aroused, a woman who aroused. He could see passion and pliancy and acceptance. He could see a woman whom he’d come to know better than anyone else. Yet he saw a woman he’d yet to reach—one he’d avoided reaching.
He went to her in silence. Her skin was damp but warm, as he’d known it would be. Raindrops clung to her hair. He touched one, then it was gone. Her arms lifted.
While the storm raged outside, he took her and himself where there was no need for answers.
Chapter 11
If they had more time…
As August began to slip by that was the thought that continued to run through Bryan’s mind. With more time, they could have stayed longer at each stop. With more time, they might have passed through more states, more towns, more communities. There was so much to see, so much to record, but time was running out.
In less than a month, the school she’d photographed empty and waiting in the afternoon light would be filled again. Leaves that were full and green would take on those vibrant colors before they fell. She would be back in L.A., back in her studio, back to the routine she’d established. For the first time in years, the wordalone had a hollow ring.
How had it happened? Shade Colby had become her partner, her lover, her friend. He’d become, though it was frightening to admit, the most important person in her life. Somehow she’d become dependent on him, for his opinion, his company, for the nights they spent involved only with each other.