A Love for All Time

by Dorothy Garlock

  “Stop trying to run my life for me. You have no right—“

  “I have a right and you know it whether you admit it to yourself or not. The trouble with you is you’re too damned proud. I wouldn’t go so far as to call you vain, but close to it, Casey. Close.” “I’m not!” she spat. “Stop analyzing me.” “You’re afraid for me to see what’s under that beautiful veneer,” he snapped. “You’ve been brainwashed by all that feminist propaganda that says it’s wrong for a woman to want to merge her life with that of a man, share his dreams, his ambitions, marry and have children. In fact it’s the most natural and right thing for a woman to do— along with a lot of other things.” He paused and she heard his breath hiss between his teeth. “You’re ashamed to admit that it was a comfort to know I was taking care of you in the hospital. You think it’s a weakness to depend on me. You’ve been on your Own for so long you’re afraid of commitment, especially now that you think your appearance isn’t what it was before the accident.”

  “I know it isn’t, and I can live with it. What I don’t have to live with is someone saying stupid—“

  Dan’s mouth, hard and commanding, fastened on her mobile lips, stealing her breath away and swallowing her words. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. He was using his mouth as a means of shutting hers. Casey twisted her head from side to side, but she didn’t push against him to free herself. She let his warmth seep into her; she luxuriated in his strength, finding all the comfort and support she could ever want.

  The pounding of her heart made her realize that his lips had softened, and that she was cradled in his arms. With a drowning feeling she attempted to push him away. He seemed to be totally unaware of her efforts and merely pulled her closer. Her lips were irresistibly forced apart until the warmth of his mouth made her give up the struggle and her arms slipped up about his neck.

  Her surrender seemed to trigger a deeper need in him and the quality of his kiss exploded into a persuasive, sensuous, passionate demand that caused something warm and powerful to throb in the area below her stomach. Fear that she was losing control brought her back to reality.

  “Dan, please don’t!” she begged when his lips freed her mouth to rest on her cheek.

  “Don’t say those things to me ever again, Casey.” His voice was a deep rumble. He moved his face so that he could look at her. Her eyes were damp and wide and her mouth puffy and trembling. “There’s more to you than a pretty face. It’s an old cliche, but true when applied to you.” His mouth was still set stubbornly and Casey’s eyes riveted on it. “I like the way you hold your head, your slender neck. I like your wiry, tight body, your height, the way your hair shines. Most of all I like your eyes that reflect all your emotions. And your mouth. I have never kissed a sweeter mouth.” His lips sipped at a tear that rolled down her cheek. “What I don’t like is surliness and dishonesty,” he said firmly and softened his words with a gentle kiss.

  “I don’t understand you,” she whispered. “I don’t understand you at all.”

  “I don’t understand me either. I just know I’m miserable when I’m away from you. I worry that you’ll need me and I won’t be there. I’m happiest when I’m with you. I knew that the first night in the hospital,” he said with great certainty. “I’ve been honest with you about that.”

  “You couldn’t have made up your mind that fast.”

  “I did,” he said, smiling at her. “Can’t we just leave it at that and see what happens?”

  She nodded. His words had brought her a delicious breathlessness. This can’t last, she told herself sternly. Her mind clicked into gear while she searched his dark eyes, now tender and teasing. As long as she recognized the danger of being terribly hurt at some later date, she might as well give herself up to this reckless, dreamlike interlude.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I called you a liar.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked lightly as he wrapped her in his arms. She cuddled willingly and raised her lips. He kissed her long and tenderly. “C’mon, let’s walk on the beach.”

  They walked for hours along the stony beach, picking up and discarding shells and other treasures the waves had cast up during the night. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they merely shared companionable silence, the sun falling warm and golden on their skin. When Dan thought she was tiring he found a spot protected from the northwest wind by a giant boulder. For a long while they lay on the fine sand sharing confidences, opinions, experiences.

  I’m a Democrat. Are you? I don’t care much for Country Western music, but I do like Kenny Rogers. I don’t like the food in Mexico, but I like it Texas style. I’ve seen Swan Lake. Me, too. Did you get the drift of the story? Sure. I guess I was too busy watching to see if someone fell off their toes. Oh, you . . .

  Sometimes there were short periods of silence, and always some part of Dan was touching her— his hand, his shoulder, his thigh. It was almost as if he couldn’t bear not touching her.

  Only one thing happened to mar the tranquillity of the day. Casey lay dozing. Dan, leaning on one elbow, explored her throat with his mouth. His fingers found the nipple on her breast and teased it to hardness through the thin cotton of her shirt.

  “No bra,” he whispered into her ear. “Hummmm ... I like that.” His mouth moved down and his lips replaced fingers that began working on the buttons of her shirt.

  The alarm in her brain overcame the delicious feeling of his mouth tugging at the erect bud. She panicked and her hand grabbed his. “No, Dan! Don’t!”

  His fingers stopped immediately and he rolled over on his back, away from her. A rush of misery, an overwhelming sense of loss, welled up inside her. She inhaled deeply, knowing she had denied herself the tactile pleasure of being caressed by his strong, male hands. She wanted to take the sharp words back and replace them with Please, I can’t stand for you to see my ugly body. She didn’t know what to do, so she just lay there, doing nothing. The sun went behind a cloud and stayed there. Casey shivered, suddenly cold. Her groping fingers reached for his hand, wanting his body warmth. He didn’t push her away and when he opened his arms she rolled into them, her mouth open against his neck.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered, his voice husky, and she wanted to cry.

  Because they had skipped lunch, they decided to have an early dinner. On the way back to the cabin they stopped at the supermarket. While Casey pushed the cart, Dan selected the groceries.

  “Don’t get so much, unless you plan on sticking around here.” She laughed. “I’m leaving on Monday.”

  “This food will be long gone by then. I have a huge appetite.”

  Back at the cabin, Dan carried the two bags of groceries into the kitchen.

  “What can I do to help?” Casey asked, a little intimidated by his expertise in selecting the steaks and the vegetables. What other surprises did he have in store for her?

  “Nothing. This is my production. I don’t need an amateur cook in my way.” He grinned at her and punched her nose with a gentle finger.

  Casey smiled up at him, pleased by their ease with one another. Ease? She was always conscious of the lean tautness of his body, of the whipcord strength of his arms, and the pulse throbbing in his brown throat just below the level of her eyes.

  “I’m no dummy,” she said saucily. “I can take a hint.”

  “Take a shower instead and put on something soft,” he commanded, but with a tenderness in his eyes that forced her into the humiliating necessity of having to control her quickening breath.

  “M’lady’s dinner will be served in about ...” he consulted the gold watch strapped to his wrist, “one hour.” “What about you?”

  “That includes my shower, too. I’ll run over and get some clean clothes. I don’t want to drop sand in my salad.” He smiled into her eyes, the upturning of his lips engagingly boyish.

  Under the shower, Casey told herself she wasn’t a starry-eyed teenager with unrealistic ideas about romance. Although there was absolutely no
doubt that Dan was the only man she had ever met who set her pulse throbbing, it was something else that made her fall in love with him. Although he was a big man, there was something vulnerable about him, something that made her want to gather him in her arms and hold him as if he were a child. Oh, hell! she groaned. Did she dare go to bed with him? Dare to reach for the chance to share that most intimate experience with the man she loved? What if she got pregnant? Was Dan one of those men who was always prepared with birth control devices in the glove compartment of his car? She shuddered, then wrenched off the shower. This was really crazy, she thought. The closet was a curtained off end of the bathroom. Casey went through the clothes and rejected everything until she came to a blue and green Indian-print caftan with a high banded neck and loose three-quarter-length sleeves. She had made the garment several years before and had worn it many times. It was one of her favorites. She dried her hair and brushed it until it crackled, then arranged it around her face to cover her scar. She skillfully applied a light makeup, added a touch of pink gloss to her lips, and slipped into the caftan. She wouldn’t admit even to herself why her hands trembled as she fastened the small covered buttons up to the band at the neck.

  Feeling an uncharacteristic shyness, she opened the door and stepped out into the main room. Dan’s whistle of appreciation confirmed what her mirror had already told her. He was busy chopping vegetables but laid the knife down and came to her.

  “Oh, gorgeous lady, I must have a quick kiss to speed me on my way to the shower.” He kissed her lightly on the nose. “You smell good. Better than onions and garlic.” He sniffed her neck, inhaling deeply.

  “I should hope so!” She laughed. “This is my fifteen-dollar stuff.” She hoped he didn’t realize her stomach was doing a slow hula dance.

  He drew back and they exchanged grins. “You’re trying to seduce me!” he said with mock alarm. “Do you plan to dance for your supper?”

  “Better that than washing the dishes,” she quipped.

  “Then don’t do a thing until I get back. Sit right here.” He eased her down on a stool beside the counter, brought an iced drink from the refrigerator, and placed it in front of her. He picked up a stack of clean clothes, the towel she had given him the night before folded neatly on top, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  How strange that the two of them, so opposite in backgrounds and life-styles, could be together like this. Casey was thoughtful as she sipped the iced lime drink. It was almost as if they were married. But if that were the case, they would have showered together. No! Oh, God! She couldn’t bear the thought of standing naked beside his beautiful body and have him look at hers, so scarred and ugly.

  “Get a grip on yourself, Casey,” she whispered out loud. In order to do so, she quickly turned her attention to Dan’s meal preparations.

  Chopped tomatoes, spinach, and fresh cauliflower sat on the counter. Two thick rib-eye steaks waited to go under the broiler, while a pot on the range exuded a delicate odor she couldn’t identify.

  Casey pulled the table from the wall and set two places. Dan stood in the bathroom doorway and rubbed his damp hair briskly with a towel. He had a quiet, questing look on his face.

  “I can’t get over the feeling that you and I have been in a situation like this before. I almost feel as if I should look out the window and see if the Indians are coming.”

  Casey was startled at the serious note in his voice. “You’re not kidding.”

  “No, sweetheart.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came out seconds later with his damp hair brushed smoothly in place. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  “Well, I could have been Lucrezia Borgia and you could have been one of my ... ah ... victims,” she said lightly in an attempt to tease him out of his serious mood. It worked. He smiled and his dark eyes roamed over her.

  “What a way to go.” He leered.

  Dan insisted she sit on the stool and relax while he prepared dinner. He slid the steaks under the broiler. While they sizzled, he tossed the salad and sliced a fat loaf of sourdough bread. He spread the slices with garlic butter and arranged them on a cookie sheet to place under the broiler when the steaks were done.

  “Where did you learn to cook like this?” Casey asked curiously.

  “In a logging camp when I was about sixteen.” He paused to lift the lid and stir the contents of the pot. “You’ll love my seasoned rice,” he said so smugly that she laughed. “I told you, my brothers worked the hell out of me. They turned me over to the camp cook, an old lumberjack named Joe Keenan. He was the best cook in ten counties and an even better diver for abalone. He taught me how to cook and how to dive.”

  During the meal Dan told her about his younger years. How his brothers would bargain with him— work hard and keep your grades up and you can have a trip, a horse, a car. He was never given anything. He worked for wages like the rest of the crew.

  “What I learned in the logging camps was—never make excuses, shoulder your load, and don’t back down from a bully.” They exchanged smiles across the table. “I got my nose broken more than once.” “Oh, so that’s what moved it slightly off center. I thought it was from playing rugby.” Casey felt deliciously wicked. Her tawny-gold eyes danced and her delicate mouth smiled mischievously.

  Dan touched his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t you like my nose?” He raised his brows haughtily.

  “I like it. But ... it could be more ... ah ... this way.” She held her hand close to his face and made like jerky movements to the side.

  His hand snaked out and grasped hers. “Woman! You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’!” He flashed her a wide, happy smile.

  They did the clean-up together. Casey was surprised at how neat he was. All the utensils he used were washed and dried and put back in exactly the places he had found them. The towels were left spread on the edge of the counter to dry.

  “What shall we do now, m’lady?” he said lightly and studied her face in the overhead light. Suddenly he reached up and switched it off, but he continued to look searchingly at her in the romantic glow from the table lamp.

  “What do you suggest?” She suddenly felt dwarfed by his aggressive maleness hovering over her. She stared up at him with wide eyes.

  “Right now I’d just like to kiss you,” he said huskily and drew her to him.

  Seven

  Dan leaned against the counter, his long legs spread wide. He drew her between them and pressed her against him intimately. His lips sipped at her neck, even now being careful of her ear. They moved around to kiss the scar on her cheek.

  “Dan! No!” She gasped, her hands going to his chest to push him away.

  “You say that word an awful lot.” He was kissing her throat just behind her ear, and refusing to allow her to move away from him. “Mmmm, your hair is as feathery and soft as the wing of a wood duck,” he murmured, nuzzling it again. “Smells good, too.”

  “Dan . . . please ...”

  “I want to make love to you.” His lips moved to her face, his hands to her hips. “I want to love you here in this cabin, as I feel I’ve loved you before, with the wolves howling at the door and the Indians just over the next ridge.” Their breaths mingled as his lips hovered over hers.

  Under his stroking hands, Casey’s body went slack with sensuousness, pressing softly against him. Her arms went up around his neck, her fingers twisting in the rough black hair at the nape. His lips rubbed seductively against hers and desire flooded her mind, obliterating all reason. She was ready for him and wondered wildly how she could so easily shake off her qualms about making love without commitment. Hungrily, blindly, she sought his mouth, and her kiss conveyed the deep heat in her body which was about to flare out of control. Whatever the future held, she thought, tonight belonged to her and Dan. One night out of a lifetime wasn’t asking too much. Whatever the consequences, she’d meet them later. She wasn’t going to deny herself the ecstatic pleasure of being caressed by this big, gentle man. His
mere touch stirred wanton lusts she hadn’t dreamed she was capable of experiencing.

  “Sweetheart?” He lifted his head. His eyes were filled with an intense expression. She saw hunger, lust, possession, and something more, much more . . . loving concern for her. It stopped her breath. “Oh, sweetheart . . .”

  His arms, like rigid bands, closed about her and she could feel the evidence of his want, firm and hard, against her. She throbbed with responsive want, with the urgent need to be filled. Their mouths met with equal fervor—hot, searching, insistent. She clutched him to her, desperate in her desire to possess and be possessed.

  “Darling . . .!” Her mouth moved a fraction and the word came from the center of her being.

  “Am I, sweetheart? Am I your darling?” his voice was hoarse. His eyes were very close and flared with warmth. Little flecks of green seemed to float in the dark gray, like atoms around the black nucleus of his pupil. Her own amber eyes were caught by his and a half smile hovered at his mouth.