She glanced at him in surprise. "I know that. I hardly think you'd orchestrate a special morning like today's only to have it end like this. You really think I trust you so little?"
A pained expression crossed his face. "Look, Barbara, I need to—"
The door shoved open and a disheveled Dani tumbled through the opening. "Jeez, what gives? They run out of real news?"
Barbara laughed, a strained, unnatural sound. "Looks like my plan backfired," she explained, thinking of her news release to the reporter.
Kenneth's head shot up sharply.
Thinking to intercept his reaction, Barbara held up one hand. "Nothing more than we talked about."
Dani's eyes widened as she looked between them. Then her gaze narrowed on Barbara in a distinct questioning look.
Barbara sighed inwardly. This was truly becoming a no-win situation.
* * *
Chapter 11
«^»
The shimmering water of Willard Bay was still, with no Jet Skis or powerboats roaring by. It wasn't quite the season yet. But that didn't seem to matter to Kenneth. Barbara suspected he would tackle most anything. Nothing seemed to intimidate him. But actually the fact that it was early in the season gave them unexpected privacy. The canoe Kenneth had rented was as still and quiet as the water it sat upon.
To Barbara, this was an unexpected treasure. Silence, beauty and Kenneth. All three filled her soul. He had been unusually quiet, even though the canoe trip had been his idea. She wondered about his reflective mood. He had been that way for days.
But she wondered even more about herself.
Unlike a few months ago, even a few weeks ago, now she welcomed the intrusion on her work schedule. She hadn't even hesitated when he'd suggested this outing. Just like the previous evening, when first they'd giggled through the romantic but silly movie she had reluctantly chosen and then danced the night away. And it would have been the perfect weekend to pore over statutes and case files – to grasp at the discipline and structure that had been her life. Instead, it had been easy to let the opportunity slide away.
Too easy.
Glancing at the perfectly sculpted planes of his face, she didn't regret her decision, despite the divided loyalties that tore at her. Instead, she dipped her hands into the water, letting her fingers trail over the surface.
A fish glided by, undisturbed by the human company.
"I guess they're used to people," Barbara commented, her voice as soft as their surroundings.
"That, or he thinks you're bait."
Barbara jerked her hand out of the water as Kenneth smirked, a devilish expression covering his face.
"I guess he's not exactly 'Jaws,' is he?" she remarked wryly as she relaxed again.
"No. But he can get his own lady." Kenneth held the paddle still as he leaned forward and kissed her.
When she pulled back, she looked at everything but him. She risked dipping her hands in the water again, wondering how she would resolve the dilemma he'd brought into her life.
Each time she glanced at him, the intensity in his eyes seemed to grow, deepening as though thousands of demons pursued him. It made her wonder what gnawed at him so.
Yet almost at the same time he could slip into that easy charm of his, make her forget they had tough decisions to face. But perhaps that was why he seemed uncomfortable, haunted.
Maybe he was trying to decide how to say goodbye.
The possibility stilled something deep inside.
Hugging her arms to her chest suddenly, she tried to guess what was going on inside his head, beneath his inscrutable expression.
"Cold?" he asked with concern, slowing the canoe.
She shook her head. "Just thinking."
"Should I be worried?" he asked, only partially in jest.
"Should I?" she countered.
The paddling came to a standstill. Only the ripples of the lake surrounding them competed with the cries of waterfowl in the silence that followed. The dent in his chin deepened as his lips thinned. "Are you trying to tell me something, Barbara?"
"I'm trying to prepare myself in case you are."
His brow lifted in silent query.
"In case you're trying to find a way to extricate yourself from a sticky situation."
He issued a shaky breath. "Putting words in my mouth, Counselor?"
"Then you're not trying to say goodbye?"
A multitude of emotions chased across his face as he abruptly dropped the paddle and grasped her arms. "I'm trying to do everything except say goodbye."
His kiss was hard, uncompromising, an unspoken stamp of possessiveness.
And Barbara let herself believe, for now, that it would be all right.
* * *
Shadows siddled against the walls, drifted over the carpet and lingered on the hollows of their hungering bodies. Ivory skin contrasted with tanned, creating sensuous foils as they reached for one another.
Kenneth closed his eyes for a moment, allowing just her scent to overwhelm his senses. The smell of late-afternoon sunshine warmed her hair, blending with the crush of wildflowers he'd tucked behind her ear. What would he do without this woman? Just as she had fifteen years ago, she'd inched under his skin, intruded on his soul.
He reached out a hand to cup her chin. Her eyes lifted to his and he saw the complete trust she'd once labored to withhold. The openness he'd worked to achieve. Now both were free, flowing. And completely undeserved. How could she trust again, once she learned of his deceit?
Still, he allowed his hands to drift over the hollows of her throat, the fragile collarbones, the vulnerable line between her breasts. She leaned toward him, escalating his desire, multiplying his guilt.
"You're bad for me, Gerrard."
The words stirred his conscience. "More than you know."
She rolled beside him, placing her hand square on his chest. "Bad enough that I've ignored my work all weekend."
"Bad enough that we can pretend for now there is no work?" He placed a hand over one breast, rubbing her nipple between his thumb and finger. Her moan answered him.
He rolled next to her, positioning her back against the mattress, trapping her legs beneath the heavy weight of his own thighs. He needed to dominate, to show her the extent of his need, his desire, his overpowering wish to possess.
The sweet smell of verbena emanated from the luxurious sheets, mixing with the wanton smell of musky desire. All he could see, all he could feel was Barbara. The years fell away and the love grew, arrowing a path straight to his heart.
Her skin beneath his searching hands was all silk and satin.
Then silk and satin turned to fire and wonder.
Her hips were a sloping invitation, her abdomen a beguiling curve that led to the tangle of her sex. Moist and slick, she awaited him, welcomed him, consumed him. Purposely he held back, lengthening the moment, cementing the memories.
He murmured her name into the sweep of her hair, caressed the silky strands. Greedily he devoured her lips, invaded the recesses of her mouth, staked a claim he knew he couldn't preserve.
Her fingers gripped his shoulders, moved restlessly over his back, then clutched his hips. Feeling her shudder, an unspeakable pleasure tore through him. She shook under his hands, the wild demand of his mouth. Despite his desperate need to conquer, he sensed her vulnerability, her quickening sense that this time was different.
So very different.
Yet she willingly tilted her head back as he skimmed the length of her throat. He was stunned by the taste of her, gorging on her essence like a starving man at his last meal.
She was, at turns, pliant, seducing, dazzling.
Despite his urgency, he forced himself to be lazily patient as he laved his tongue over every secret recess.
Each gasp, the trembling that set her afire, ignited him further.
Staggered by her answering tenderness, he was swamped with rampant emotion. His palms filled with her breasts, his mouth sought hers. Then he p
ulled back, capturing her eyes, staring as though to memorize each feature.
"You are mine, Barbara Callister."
She murmured half-audible sounds, whispered endearments that gripped his heart. The blood thundered in his head, echoed in his loins.
He watched as she caught her breath, saw the heavy-lidded look of completion as her body bowed, then slid limply into replete languor.
His own climax was explosive. Devastating. The power of it stunned him. As did the need. It was like a whipcord coiled inside, scarcely hesitating before striking again. In the aftermath he didn't roll away from her.
Instead, he allowed his weight to settle, making certain that he wasn't causing her discomfort. His thumb skimmed over her cheek, rested in the bow of her lips as he watched her lashes flutter before she opened her eyes to signal her satisfaction. Warm, heavy and sensual, they raked over him.
Combined with the relaxed, accepting position of her body, he could tell she welcomed the closeness. Perhaps needed it as much as he. His chest pressed against her breasts, his hipbones abraded hers and purposely he didn't withdraw, relishing this ultimate intimacy.
Her fingers sifted through his hair, then caressed his jaw. Her breath was a mere sigh, her words a husky whisper. "I love you, Gerrard."
His heart skidded to a halt, then beat so rapidly, it threatened to cave in the walls of his chest. He couldn't pretend any longer. It was more than wrong. The deceit was savaging his soul. Regret spun over him, cobwebs of the past and present, obscuring, confusing.
Combing through the memories, he reached for one. To his relief, it clarified. With utmost care and gentleness, he reached out to touch the heart-shaped locket she wore. It was the one he'd given her the night before he'd been forced to disappear from her life.
With ease, he opened the intricate, trick fastening, exposing the two pictures inside.
Barbara's eyes opened in shock, her heart stilling. "How did you know the way it opened?" She had shared the secret of opening the locket with only one other person. And Billy had vanished, taking that knowledge with him.
His thumb eased over the two photos inside the locket. "You've kept the pictures of you… and Billy."
Stunned, Barbara reached out to touch the face that had once been so familiar. The planes and edges were harder now, more honed, and the chestnut mustache covering his full lips disguised him further.
The niggling sensation she felt when she first saw Ken dressed in a T-shirt and jeans struck her with renewed force. Even though he wasn't whipcord slim as Billy had been, it dawned on her that with maturity he could have gained the muscles and definition, even the additional height. The blond hair was now dark. She'd discounted the vague feelings of déjà vu, yet everything about him suddenly seemed familiar. But the eyes… He couldn't change the eyes.
Withdrawing, he sat up and turning aside, reached toward his face, cupping his hands near his eyes. When he turned back, she glanced in disbelief from the colored contacts in his hands to the brilliant blue of the eyes that stared at her. Filled with foreboding and a glimmer of hope, they were Billy's eyes.
And he was, indisputably Billy Duncan.
He was the young man she'd given her heart to, and the one who had broken that heart. The boy and the man blurred into one. Almost without thinking, she reached to touch his earlobe, feeling the distinctive scar where his ear had been pierced. A vision of him throwing his head back, the diamond stud in his ear glinting stunned her.
But shock was dissipating, replaced by a steadily growing sense of being tricked. Anger overrode any pleasure at discovering that Billy was alive and well.
And masquerading as Kenneth Gerrard.
She was too angry to even wonder how that had come about. She didn't need or want to know what game he played. All she knew was that she'd exposed her heart and he'd sliced it to ribbons. She rose from the tangle of sheets, overwhelmed momentarily by the pleasures they'd shared there. The love she thought she'd found.
"Barbara, please—"
"Please what?" In the act of fleeing the bed, she whirled around, the sheet pirouetting at her feet. "Am I supposed to be impressed by your Oscar caliber performance? Applaud your ingenuity?" Her voice cracked. "Reward you for liberating me, parading my emotions like trophies you've collected? Not once, but twice?" Tears glimmered, gathering to tremble in the wells of her eyes. "Sorry. But even I can't be had again."
She slammed the bathroom door behind her. Inside, she staggered toward the counter, clinging to her anger, relinquishing it for the pain that struck her. White-hot shards of anguish sliced through her. Grief lodged in her throat, making it ache unbearably around the tears collecting there.
Blindly reaching toward the sink, she twisted the knob and plunged her hands into the cold water. Throwing water on her face, she disregarded her carefully applied makeup. The water seemed to sting her hot face, blending with the scalding tears that refused to stop pouring. Slowly lifting her head, she stared in the mirror.
Stark and pale, her face reflected the shock and misery she felt. Cautiously lifting one hand, she pushed back the tumble of hair that fell forward. Then she paused, staring at the reflection of her own eyes.
Betrayed.
The pain pierced her anew, and she wondered that her heart didn't lie in pieces at her feet. With trembling hands she gathered her clothing and somehow dressed. The fifty feet or so to the front door stretched out like miles of hot coals to be crossed on bare, vulnerable feet. Inhaling deeply, she reached for the doorknob and pulled the bathroom door open.
"Barbara, please. Let me explain. I know how this must look to you. I never meant to hurt you—"
"Then you've failed miserably." With great effort she repressed the hitch in her voice, the hole in her heart. Holding her dignity intact, knowing it was the only way to keep her sanity, to not shriek in pain, she refused to look at him. Striding toward the door, she didn't even pause as she gripped the doorknob.
"Barbara?" He saw the trace of tears on her face and cursed himself for her heartache, even as he knew he couldn't let her walk out of his life.
She kept her face toward the blank wood of the door. "I can't say I'll never see you again because, despite what I want, I have to face you in court. But that's all, Gerrard. Everything else is finished."
"Barbara, please. Don't go. Let me explain…"
The echo of the door quietly closing reverberated in his heart. He would have preferred the anger of her slamming the door. Instead, the quiet, finalized motion was far more damning.
Shoving both hands through his hair, he cursed vehemently as he reached for a shirt and pulled it on. Stalking onto the balcony, he searched the darkness for answers and knew there weren't any. Seeing her tears, feeling her pain, knowing it matched his own, he wondered how he could have caused it again.
* * *
In the days that followed, Kenneth began to believe Barbara had meant what she'd said. He tried to talk to her and was met with a blank, cold wall. If what he had to say didn't involve the case, she simply wouldn't speak to him. At first he thought it would be impossible for her to completely shut him out. She couldn't spend hours every day in the same courtroom and avoid him.
Yet she did.
The isolation stripped away his pride, revealed the heartache that he couldn't hide. Still she didn't respond. Cold, polite and remote, she didn't begin to resemble the warm-blooded woman he knew her to be. She hadn't simply reverted back to how she'd been at the beginning of the trial. Instead, she was frozen – an impenetrable wall of derision.
He saw it in her eyes, along with the hurt she carefully cloaked. Beneath her thin veneer of control, he saw the questions, the confusion. Yet she blocked all his attempts to reach her. She screened her calls and never returned his messages. Her doorbell remained unanswered.
Desperate, he chased down Dani as she left the courthouse.
Hearing her name called, she turned and he saw the barriers going up as she recognized him. "Hello." She was
curt, impatient.
"Are you busy, Dani?"
"Would it matter? Don't you go after whatever you want, regardless of the cost?"
Her words cut to the heart of the matter and he couldn't prevent an involuntary flinch. He decided to be equally blunt. "I can't get her to talk to me."
Dani's eyes and voice were accusing. "Do you blame her?"
"No," he replied honestly.
She shifted her briefcase and stared at the flowers neatly tended in a bed near the sidewalk. "So, what do you want now?"
"Another chance."
"Three strikes and you're out. Sounds like you've used up some mighty big ones already."
"I've used up more than I deserve. But she deserves answers, as well."
Dani stared at him directly. "I don't know exactly what happened, but you hurt her. Badly."
He felt a direct hit in his gut at the acknowledgment. He knew he'd hurt her, had anguished over his blunders. He thought about her suffering. And knew he had to offer her an explanation, a way to mend that pain. "I need one more chance. She deserves one more chance."
Dani weighed his words, obviously turning over the alternatives in her mind. "If you blow this one…"
"I won't," he interjected eagerly.
She watched the relief and hope flare in his expression, then sighed in acceptance. "This is your last chance, buddy. Even the Mounties won't be able to find you this time, if you hurt her."
He couldn't restrain his grin. One more chance.
* * *
Chapter 12
«^»
Barbara filled the teakettle, placed it on the stove and turned on the gas. Staring sightlessly out the window into the dark night, she started as the whistle of the kettle filled the air. Pouring the water into her teacup, she moved away from it restlessly. Forgetting the drink, she wandered into the next room. It seemed unbearably empty.
The vise on her heart tightened. How could he have done it? And why? The questions circled in her brain, unanswered, tormenting her every thought.
WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN Page 15