Twice in a Lifetime

by Rebecca Flanders

  But when Kate brought out her credit card to pay for their purchases, Barbara sternly overrode her. "It's not that I don't appreciate the thought," she told her, taking out her wallet, "but I'm not exactly destitute, you know. You and Michael have done enough."

  Naturally Kate objected, but Barbara was firm. Barbara paid for her own purchases and even had enough left over to impulsively buy a pair of matching lavender shoes.

  They had a long, chatty lunch in a little restaurant overlooking the town square, and Barbara could not remember having spent a more enjoyable day. She was tentatively amazed at the change that had come over her since arriving here a mere twenty-four hours ago. Could Kate have been right—that all she needed was a change of scenery? Or could it be her newfound enthusiasm for life was derived from something else—a lanky, green-eyed stranger who would be sharing her roof for the duration of her vacation?

  Impatiently she tried to dismiss that possibility, but thoughts of Kyle would not easily retreat to the background where they belonged. He was not the type of man who would fade easily into the background of anyone's thoughts. There was so much she would have liked to know about him, and she waited for Kate to bring up the subject of her brother-in-law, but she never did. Barbara wondered, for example, how he had broken his leg. She had assumed it had been while skiing, but in South America? And what kind of work did he do that enabled him to travel so blithely all over the world, and that he apparently did well enough to be asked to write a book on the subject? And what about his ill-fated marriage? There were dozens of questions she could have asked and was certain Kate would have given her frank, unbiased answers, but pride prevented her. After all, it was not as though she had any particular interest in him, only curiosity…

  They did some late marketing for dinner, and by the time they arrived home they had to rush to unpack the groceries and get dinner started. Barbara did no more than dump her packages on her bed before hurrying downstairs to help Kate.

  "The house is awfully quiet," she commented as she came in to the kitchen. "Where is everyone?"

  "I heard the typewriter going in Michael's study," answered Kate, stretching to place a package of macaroni on a top shelf. "As for his illustrious brother…" She nodded over her shoulder toward the window.

  Barbara, taking four baking potatoes to the sink for scrubbing, glanced out. Kyle was lying on a lounge chair on the terrace, his eyes peacefully closed to the sun. He was wearing nothing but a pair of snug white shorts, and his perspiration-oiled body gleamed goldenly in contrast to their bright glare. His hands were linked behind his head, revealing a light mat of hair under his arms, and the muscles of his shoulders, even in that relaxed posture, were defined in intriguing sinewy lines. His chest was smooth and bare except for a small gold medallion, which winked with the reflection of the shimmering water below. His deep tan made the hairs on his legs appear almost golden, drawing attention to the well-muscled thighs and hard, firm shape of his calf. It was, Barbara thought in surprise, one of the most beautiful male bodies she had ever seen, and she continued to gaze at him as one would a fine work of art, helpless to the stirring of buried sensations only the sight of him aroused, until Kate's step behind her startled her into a furious flush and she turned back quickly to the sink.

  Kate did not appear to notice anything out of the ordinary. She leaned forward and slid open the window, calling, "Is this what you've been doing all day, you worthless creature? You're supposed to be working!"

  Barbara happened to glance up from her violent scrubbing of the potatoes just as his eyes opened a crack. The emerald-green slits seemed to hold her mesmerized, though he spoke to Kate. "Do not disturb," he drawled lazily. "Can't you see I'm creating?" He turned his face back to the sun and closed his eyes but added, "By the way, something happened while you were gone. Let me think what it was."

  Kate released an impatient breath, waiting with her hand on the window latch, until he decided, "Oh, yes. The exterminators. You've got termites."

  Kate groaned and Barbara looked up from placing the potatoes in the oven. "Oh, Kate," she offered sympathetically. "That's too bad."

  "I told you not to buy a house that was forty years old," volunteered Kyle lazily from the terrace.

  "Does Michael know?" Kate asked.

  "Umm-hmm. I think he made an appointment for a couple of weeks from now to get rid of the little darlings."

  Kate opened her mouth to retort but just then the telephone rang. She crossed the room to answer it and Barbara busied herself by preparing the steaks for the broiler, deliberately avoiding looking out the window as she passed it. Why did Michael have to have a brother who was so extraordinarily good-looking, and why did he have to choose this time to visit, and why did he have to sunbathe half naked right under her nose?

  In a moment Kate called, "Telephone, Sleeping Beauty. Long distance."

  She handed him the receiver as he made his way slowly inside, and informed him, "Your attorney."

  He grimaced as he took the receiver, balancing himself on the crutch, and Kate turned to Barbara. "I think I'd better go consult with the head of the household on this latest crisis. Can you handle things in here?"

  Kyle said into the phone, "Stan. What's up?"

  Barbara answered her sister, "Sure. What kind of vegetable do you want?"

  "We'll have the frozen peas," she replied on her way out of the kitchen, and Kyle frowned as he tried to cover his ear with his hand while maintaining his balance. "I'll be back to help you with the salad."

  "What's that?" Kyle was saying. "Oh, sure, I'm fine. I'm seeing a doctor here tomorrow. Say, you're too cheap to call long distance to inquire about my health. What's on your mind?"

  Barbara bent over to place the steaks under the broiler, and she was suddenly aware of Kyle's eyes on her. When she straightened up, there was a lazy twinkle in his eyes, and he made a circle of his thumb and forefinger, indicating approval of the view he had just had. She scowled and went quickly to the refrigerator.

  It was impossible not to overhear his conversation, and equally as impossible to ignore his eyes following her about Kate's airy blue and white kitchen. Their awareness of one another, alone for the first time since the episode on the beach that morning, was almost a physical thing. She moved stiffly and self-consciously, trying to look occupied and unaware of him, but she knew she was falling much short of her goal.

  Kyle said, turning his attention momentarily back to the phone, "So get to the point. What did he say?"

  There was a sharp silence, and then an explosion. "The hell he did!"

  Barbara almost dropped the platter she had taken down from a shelf. The angry exclamation went against what little she knew of the mild, easygoing Kyle Waters, and she could not help venturing a glance at him.

  He had half turned from her now, his wrathful attention focused on the blue plastic cover of the telephone, as though he might at any moment rip it off the wall. A dark flush had crept over his cheekbones and the knuckles of the hand that held the receiver to his ear stood out in a taut white line across his fist. "What kind of half-witted judge did you dig up?" he shouted. "Where does he come off—"

  Uncomfortable, Barbara turned the water on full force to drown out the sound of his voice, but then realized that the noise would also serve to make it difficult for Kyle to hear the party on the other end. She wished she could slip unobtrusively out of the range of this angry and obviously very personal conversation, but Kyle was blocking the exit to the kitchen.

  "No, you listen to me," he demanded in tight fury, his back now turned to Barbara. "You've screwed this whole thing to hell, and who's going to suffer for it? Not you, with your ten-thousand-dollar fee, and not even me… Don't give me that, you son of a—"

  Barbara was appalled. She did not want to be around when he finished that conversation and possibly turned the remainder of his wrath on the nearest available object. She made her way quietly over to the patio doors and slipped out.

  For a whil
e she heard nothing but the muted rushing of the tide and the gentle sighing of the breeze. She thought Kyle must have either found his temper or hung up on his caller. And then his voice floated through the kitchen window. "Now, get this straight. I don't want to hear any more about having exhausted all legal resources. Because the next thing I'm going to do is try a few that aren't so legal!"

  She walked away from the window.

  "I don't want another attorney, dammit! I want service from the one I've already paid for!"

  Barbara sighed and sat on the rail, trying to focus her attention on the sea.

  When next he spoke, his voice sounded a little calmer. "All right… all right, try that, then. What do I have to do?… Okay, I'll wait to hear from you… Yes, I'll be here." And then, impatiently, "Until I notify you otherwise!" And the receiver was replaced with a force that jarred the bell.

  She was in no hurry to go back inside. She would wait until he had time to leave, or until Kate returned and perhaps exerted a calming influence. She sat on the rail with the cool breeze ruffling her hair and relaxed in the beauty of the glowing pink and red azalea bushes that bordered the path before her.

  She heard the patio doors slide open and Kyle swung his crutch over the sill, coming toward her at an easy, relaxed pace. Nothing in his face reflected the volcano of wrath she had just witnessed.

  "Sorry if I embarrassed you in there," he offered casually. "Sometimes you have to get rough with these guys to keep them in line."

  "Well, I would say you've perfected that technique," she murmured, glancing at him.

  He gave her an abashed grin as he propped the crutch on the rail and sat beside her. "I'm, er, involved in a slight litigation," he explained.

  "Oh, really?" She pretended wide-eyed interest. "Paternity suit or breach of promise?"

  His eyes sparkled. "I'll never tell."

  He was sitting very close, so that their thighs almost touched. He exuded the warm scents of sunbaked perspiration and a faint musky odor of cologne, and she kept her eyes turned away from the sight of that lean brown chest that had had such a devastating effect on her earlier. She looked instead at his hands, which were linked casually about one knee. They were long and brown and slender, delicate hands, with even, blunt nails and soft, uncalloused tips. She wondered again what he did for a living to keep his hands in such condition. Probably nothing honest, she told herself derisively, and was assaulted suddenly by the memory of Daniel's hands, square and blunt, the fingers grooved and calloused by guitar strings…To Barbara a man's hands were one of the most sensuous parts of his body, capable of displaying great power or giving enormous pleasure, and she quickly looked away, trying not to think about Kyle's hands.

  He said lightly, "Notice anything different about me?"

  "Yes," she responded automatically. "You're not wearing any clothes."

  He gave a delighted roar of laughter, and she flushed. That had not come out at all the way she intended.

  "That's what I like," he managed in a moment. "A girl with perception."

  She knew if she looked at him, his eyes would be mocking her rakishly, and she compressed her lips and started to move away, determined not to commit another blunder by opening her mouth to retort.

  "I meant," he told her, catching her wrist as she stood, "to direct your attention to the upper part of my body, which is no more naked than it usually is— or at least not by much!"

  She glanced at him through narrowed eyes and muttered unwillingly, "You cut your hair."

  "And shaved. Do I still look like a refugee from the sixties?"

  He looked anything but, although Barbara would not tell him so. The shaggy ends of his sun-streaked fawn hair were trimmed into a neater, more fashionable style that complemented him for the mature man he was. Brushed away from the forehead, it still insisted upon falling forward at the part in a manner favored by many young actors and imitated by up-and-coming junior executives, but she knew it was no affectation on his part. Everything about him was perfectly natural, from the style of his hair, which was the only possible frame for his firm, square face, to the faint five-o'clock shadow, which would be present no matter how closely he shaved, to the firm, athletic body burnished by the sun—what God had in mind, she thought unaccountably, when he created man.

  Then, annoyed with herself for the thought, she said abruptly, "I have to check on dinner."

  "Aren't you impressed?" he insisted, following her. The teasing light was still in his eyes. "That comment you made on the plane really hurt, you know. What a thing to say to a fellow who'd just escaped a jungle hospital!"

  She looked him over once, critically. "You look very… neat," she told him finally. She turned to check on the steaks, kneeling this time instead of bending.

  "Thank you for those crumbs, my lady," he replied airily. Then, "Can I help with dinner, or do you find the sight of an almost nude male body too distracting?"

  She turned back to the oven with a great display of dignified nonchalance, which was just in time to hide her furious blush. He wandered off, chuckling, apparently convinced he was not going to get a rise out of her.

  He changed into a more presentable pair of jeans and a short-sleeved cream-colored pullover for dinner, and he could not resist whispering to Barbara with a grin as she set his plate before him, "Better?" She frowned and made no reply, but she could not help noticing during dinner how well the light color of his shirt set off his tan arms.

  When they were finished, Kyle volunteered, "I'll help Bobbie with the dishes, Kate. You and Mike go relax for a while."

  Kate accepted his offer gratefully, and when they were alone, Barbara commented, "That was very gallant of you, I'm sure, but why didn't it occur to you to volunteer you and Michael to do the dishes? Kate and I cooked the meal, after all!"

  "One," he replied, balancing a plate and a glass in one hand with difficulty as he made his way toward the swinging doors, "you're much better company than Mike, believe it or not. Two, Katie and Mike get little enough time to spend together as it is."

  She took the dishes from him impatiently. "Go sit down before you break something. I'll do this."

  "And three," he continued imperviously, holding the door for her as she pushed through, "Kate looked out on her feet. Didn't you notice?"

  Barbara hesitated as she stacked the dishes in the sink. She honestly had not noticed anything about Kate—she had been too busy noticing everything about Kyle.

  "I think the best way to do this," he suggested, "is for you to clear the table and let me rinse and load the dishwasher. It will avoid a lot of accidents in the long run."

  "I really don't need any help," she insisted and went back through the swinging door.

  "Don't you think I know that?" he answered mildly.

  She was annoyed and impatient with the perverse attraction she was beginning to feel for Kyle. Was it because he had been the first man to kiss her since Daniel? Could she really be so shallow as to let a little thing like that set her emotions in a turmoil? Or was it simply that it had been so long—if ever—that she had been around such a vital, physically attractive man? Was it because—and this disturbed her most-he could make her laugh, when she had not felt like laughing in over a year?

  In an uncomfortable state of confusion and irritability over these reflections, she demanded as she came back through swinging doors, "How long are you staying, anyway?"

  His face relaxed into a sensuous half-smile. "Oh, I don't know. How long do you want me to stay?"

  "It wouldn't bother me," she retorted, "if you left tonight!"

  He sighed, "Fickle, thy name is woman! And to think, only this morning…"

  She went back into the dining room to avoid the rest of his reminiscences.

  When she returned with the last of the dishes, he suggested easily, "If it bothers you that much to have me around, you know how to get rid of me, don't you?"

  "Pray tell!" She deposited the dishes under the stream of running water and he b
egan to rinse and stack them efficiently in the dishwasher.

  "All you have to do," he suggested, glancing at her with a twinkle, "is tell Katie that I've been hitting on her little sister, and she'll have me packed and out of here so fast it will make your head spin."

  Barbara paused, regarding him coolly, although a smile was playing with her lips. "Kate already knows," she informed him.

  He looked up in mild surprise. "Is that right? What did she say?"

  "What could she say?" replied Barbara. "She obviously thinks you hold the secret to tomorrow, and I'm a little too old to be posted with a chaperone."

  Kyle laughed. "Dear Katie! What a girl!"

  "She did, however," Barbara added slyly, "mention that you have a certain reputation with women."

  "A good one, I hope," he interjected.

  "That depends on your point of view," she answered dryly.

  He closed the dishwasher and locked it. "What else did she say?"

  "She seems to think," ventured Barbara hesitantly, "that you might still be in love with your wife."

  Now he was startled. He stared at her. "What a strange thing for her to say!" She did not think he was lying. "Katie knows better than that!" He peered at her curiously. "Are you sure you didn't misunderstand?"

  She dropped her eyes. "Perhaps I did," she admitted and hurried back to the dining room to gather up the place mats.

  She scolded herself inwardly for bringing up a subject that was none of her business. What did she care what Kyle's relationship with his ex-wife was? And Kate had not said that he still loved her, only that he had been upset by the divorce. Then why had she felt compelled to catch his reaction when she suggested that he might still be in love with the woman?

  When she came back into the kitchen, it was empty. The dishwasher was running noisily, the counters had been sponged clean, and the patio doors were open, a slight breeze billowing the sheer curtains. She could see Kyle's silhouette in the moonlight on the terrace.

  "Come out here for a minute, Bobbie," he called.