She frowned a little before resting her face against his shoulder again. "I'm not really sure. It sounds perfect. But I'm just not sure."
She thought he released a slight breath before drawing her close again. "You think about it," he advised her gently. "But don't make any sudden decisions."
But right then she did not want to think of anything at all. She wanted only to be with Kyle and hold him and move around the room with him to the soft rhythm of the music and to feel the swelling of contentment within her as she knew this was the happiest night of her life. Could it have been only a few months ago that she had come here, almost reluctantly, never dreaming that happiness would find her here and present her with a new life? She tightened her arms around Kyle and released a sigh of quiet joy. He bent to kiss her hair.
"Kate looks tired," she murmured, noticing her dancing with her husband in the thinning crowd.
"I know. I suggested to Michael a few minutes ago it might be time to wind this whole thing up. It's getting late, anyway. And speaking of which—" He suddenly stepped out of her embrace and caught her hand. His eyes were veiled with mystery. "Come along."
"But what—?" she began in confusion, but he silenced her, leading between the dancing couples with a gentle tug on her hand.
"You'll find out."
He took her to the guest room and closed the door behind them.
"Kyle," she laughed a little nervously, glancing at he closed door, "what is this? What will Kate think?"
"She'll think," he assured her solemnly, "that I want to be alone with her sister."
He walked over to the desk and drew from behind it what was unmistakably a framed portrait. He came over to her, turned it face up, and presented it to her. "Happy birthday, Bobbie," he said.
She took it in her hands wonderingly, moved to speechlessness. It was a portrait of herself playing with Jojo on the beach. Her head was thrown back in laughter as sea spray glistened in the air; the wind whipped her hair away from her face and her violet-blue eyes were a shade brighter than the sea. His eye for detail and photographic precision had never been more evident: the damp spots on her jeans and her red-checked blouse where water had splashed, grains of sand sticking to her arms and to Jojo's fur, the ships on the horizon, every glistening shell fragment and drift of seaweed on the beach. She knew immediately it was a masterpiece, but it was more, because it was of her. With his brush he had explored her body intimately and gone beyond to discover her character and capture one moment of it forever on canvas. This was Barbara Ellis as seen and remembered by Kyle Waters. Her hand shook slightly as she caressed the portrait. "Oh, Kyle," she whispered.
"You know," he confessed, "I thought it would be hard to give it to you. It wasn't."
Because he trusted her. He trusted her with something he had been unsure of with other people, and that was special. Very special indeed. "It's beautiful," she said softly, worshipfully. "Kyle, it's just…beautiful." Then she glanced at him shyly. "You flatter me."
"You know I don't do that," he told her simply. "I can't."
She stepped forward and caressed his neck with her hand, the other lovingly shielding the portrait. His kissed her tenderly, with a depth of feeling that transported her beyond passion, and she returned it fully. She had never felt closer to him, more a part of him, more complete and whole in her own right and anxious to share every part of herself with him. She had never wanted him as badly as she did that night.
He moved away, but the wanting was as deep in his eyes as it was in hers, probing to the depths of her very soul. He stroked her face gently with his hand, and in a moment he said, somewhat huskily, "I think I'd better leave now."
She touched his hand as he stepped away, closing her fingers lightly around his. Her eyes were wide and dark with the promise within her message. "Kyle," she whispered, "I don't want you to."
He looked at her for a moment, a cautious question in his eyes. She answered it softly, a hint of shyness tinging her cheeks. "Tonight," she whispered, her eyes wide and luminous as they searched his, "it's just you and I. The past is really over, Kyle, you've made me see that. Tonight I only want to be with you."
For a long moment their eyes interlocked, exploring the silent secrets within, and his face altered with tenderness and wanting as he brought her fingers slowly to his lips. "I never lock my door," he said softly, and in another moment he turned reluctantly and left.
She knew he was only giving her time to make sure of her feelings, and she smiled to herself because she knew her feelings would not change.
She took the portrait secretly up to her room and stayed there a long time, looking at it. Tomorrow she would share it with Kate and Michael, but for tonight it was hers—a very special something between her and Kyle that transported her into a world of discoveries about herself, and about him, and each discovery she made was a new experience of wonder and delight. In the moment he had chosen to capture on canvas she had been free, unfettered by care or memories of the past, open to the joy of the world around her, simple and honest. And in giving it to her he had somehow set her free again, and the experience was rich with promise and delight.
When she came downstairs, the last guests were departing. Kate was leaning against Michael, smiling with contentment, but her eyes were half closed and she was pale with fatigue. "You," Barbara told her sister, "had better get straight to bed. I'll straighten up down here."
"Oh, leave it till tomorrow, Barbara," Michael replied, sounding happily weary himself. "We'll make a day of it. Either that or call in a cleaning crew."
"I'm too excited to sleep," Barbara told him. "I'll just empty a few ashtrays and gather up the glasses." She walked over to them and kissed Michael on the cheek, and then her sister. "Thanks for the best birthday I can ever remember," she said, smiling.
He returned her smile as Kate hugged her. "I'm glad you had a good time, Barbara," he said.
"But the guest of honor doesn't have to clean up afterward," Kate reminded her as they started up the stairs. "Leave it."
"Go to bed," Barbara told them.
Meticulously she emptied every ashtray and stacked the glasses in the dishwasher to capacity, just as she had said she would. Then she left the house quietly and climbed the steps to Kyle's apartment. The door was open.
Bright moonlight flooded the room, softer and more muted than the day, but just as clear. It bounced off the white stripes of his cocoa-brown sheets, caressed his smooth brown chest, and turned the streaks in his hair to glowing silver. He was propped up on his elbows in bed, as though waiting for her, and his smile was warm and welcoming. "Hi," he said softly. "What are you doing here?"
She closed the door and stepped inside. "I have come," she replied, her voice softened with anticipation and warmth despite the light tone, "in answer to your advertisement. 'Good clean fun, no strings attached, satisfaction guaranteed or your money cheerfully refunded'."
His smile deepened with hers as she reached behind her and the zipper of her dress opened with a whispering sound. She let it fall to her feet and stood before him for a moment in a pale lavender teddy, its wide lace edging forming delicate shadows against her breasts and her thighs in the moonlight. Then she stepped out of the dress and walked over to the bed.
He drew her into his arms, gently, wonderingly, his breath soft and warm against the sensitive areas of her skin. Light, lingering kisses played over her face and her neck, as though she were a gift too precious to be explored in haste. She felt herself drowning in the warmth of those kisses.
In a silken graceful movement he released the straps of her teddy from her shoulders and drew the garment down over her hips, then discarded it. Then they were together, flesh against flesh, his naked limbs entwined around hers just as she had yearned for so many times, and the warmth of their bodies flamed to fire as the urgency of a need too long contained swelled within them.
His hands cupped the roundness of her shoulders and trailed gently down to the curves of her hips,
while his mouth sought the softness of her breasts. She wound her fingers in the silky length of his hair with a little moan as his tongue sent shivers of electricity on fine wires from the sensitive tips of her nipples to the core of her abdomen. He followed that path with his mouth, placing gentle kisses along her ribs, the soft flesh of her stomach, at last resting with maddening deliberation on her navel. Her own hands moved restlessly over his body, exploring the strong cords of his neck, the muscles of his back finely sheathed in smooth skin, the hardness of his buttocks, and she wanted him, she wanted to know every part of him, to make him a part of her as it should always have been. His strong thighs gently separated hers and she did not know why she had fought it so long, for it was right, what was happening between them. She should have known all along that with Kyle it would be right…
He brought his face to hers, his hands cupping her face on either side and his fingers separating her hair with a fine, worshipful delicacy. In the dim moonlight she could see her own joy and wanting reflected in his eyes, and he whispered, "Bobbie…" But she stopped his words with her lips, drawing him to her.
Their union was easy and natural, the way it can be only when two beings are in perfect harmony with one another. She had known making love with Kyle would be perfect, she had imagined it would be extraordinary, just as everything else about this man was extraordinary, but the emotions that moved her in his embrace took her completely by surprise. She was transported beyond the sensual experience into realms she had not imagined to explore ever again, where minds and spirits, as well as bodies, were in perfect unison. The sweetness of the experience was so intense she felt tears of pure joy bathe her eyes and she drew him closer, and closer, wanting it never to end.
When at last the peaks of starbursting joy had faded into the shimmering stillness of the night, they lay wrapped tightly in one another's arms, contentment enfolding them like a feather blanket, unwilling to move away from one another by even a few inches or for only a moment. At length he stirred to bring his lips to her neck, his breath warm and gentle on the curve of her jaw. She stroked his hair with an unsteady hand as he placed a kiss on her throat, another on her ear, another on her hairline. "Oh, Bobbie," he murmured with a sigh, his arm tightening once again around her as his head rested against the pillow. "There's no more truth in advertising."
She smiled languorously in the dark as she ran her fingers through the softness of his hair at the temple. "Whatever can you mean?" she challenged him softly, her voice husky with contentment and the residue of passion, which even now was beginning to build again.
His embrace loosened somewhat, so that he could look down at her. His face was very sober, and a deep light of tenderness burned in his eyes. "I love you," he said quietly. "I want to marry you."
Chapter Ten
For an endless moment Barbara could not move, or think, or even breathe. Waves of shock began to wash over her, sending pinpricks of ice to her lips and her fingertips. And then, slowly, she pulled away.
Confusion began to cloud the smile on Kyle's face as she got up and stumbled across the room, groping for her dress. Her breath was coming raggedly. "Hey," he joked weakly, although there was a sharp undertone of fear in his voice. "What is this? You're running away just because I decided to make an honest woman of you? "
She stepped into the dress blindly, hearing a small ripping sound above the thundering of her heart as she jerked it over her hips. Kyle flung back the covers and pulled on his robe, all pretense of humor gone now. "Bobbie, did you hear me?" he demanded. "I said I love you! What are you doing?"
"I—I'm leaving." She tried to zip her dress with shaking hands, but the zipper caught and she tore at it, almost sobbing with frustration. She searched for her shoes.
He caught her arm. His face was drawn, his eyes dark with bewilderment and fear. "What did I do? What the hell is this?"
She broke away with a cry and covered her face with her hands to smother the sobs. "Stop it!" she managed to gasp at last, and then only in a whisper. Her lips were numb, and she could only repeat what was racing through her mind, over and over again, "I can't handle this… I… can't… handle this…"
She broke away from him and ran out the door. She made it halfway down the steps before she tripped and almost fell, but she caught herself against the rail and then sank to the step, clutching the wood rail and shaking. She was not sobbing, but her uneven gasps for breath made it sound so. It wasn't fair, it simply wasn't fair. She had not bargained for this!
She heard the door close behind her, and Kyle sat beside her. He did not touch her. "Bobbie, I don't understand," he demanded desperately. "What is it? What did l do?"
She made a concentrated effort to steady her breathing. "No," she whispered. "Don't say that. You don't have to say that. Why did you say it?" She turned to him, pleading.
"Because it's true," he insisted, clutching her hands tightly, and deep down inside she knew that it was. Despair gripped her. "I love you and I want you—not just for a night, or a few weeks, but forever."
"It's… not supposed to be that way!" she gulped, trying to withdraw her hands. He held them firm. "That's not the way I wanted it! No promises, no commitments…I didn't bargain for this!"
"Dammit, Bobbie, I want you to be my wife. I want to—"
"It could have been so good!" she cried, jerking her hands away. "Why did you have to spoil it? I never asked anything from you, I never—"
"What are you afraid of?" he demanded, rising as she struggled to her feet. His face was very white now, and angry. "Why are you acting this way?"
She jerked away from his touch, propelling herself down the steps with her hands on the rail.
"Damn it all, Bobbie," he cried desperately. "I love you! Don't you understand that?"
She reached the bottom step, and somehow she managed to turn around. "Don't follow me," she said. Her voice was high and tight between gulping breaths. "And don't…say that anymore!" She turned and ran across the lawn.
"I will!" He called after her, and there was despair in his voice. "I will because it's true, and you know it!"
By ten o'clock in the morning, she had cleaned the house thoroughly, except for the vacuuming, which would disturb the still-sleeping Michael and Kate. She went through the motions numbly, trying not to think, trying not to feel. It wasn't her fault Kyle had fallen in love with her. It wasn't her fault she could not give him what he wanted. Hadn't she made it clear to him her heart belonged to another man, and would forever? Hadn't she made it clear? Wasn't it enough that he should ask her to share her body with him… and wasn't it enough that she had learned to give it freely and without constraint? What did he expect from her?
She couldn't think about it. She couldn't keep dwelling on it. It was over and it hurt her to hurt him, but she had to go on. She had to get her life together before she managed to shatter it irrevocably, belaboring things she couldn't help.
She slowly took the business card from the buffet drawer and dialed the number.
Roger Daily sounded pleased when she identified herself. "Barbara! Does this mean you've come to a decision in my favor?"
She managed a weak laugh. "I'm not sure whether it's entirely in your favor or not, but I do appreciate the offer of the job and I'd like to try it."
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "I don't think you'll regret it. Michael explained to me that it's been a while since you've done this type of work, and this will be the perfect opportunity for you to get back into it slowly, to take it at your own pace. There was one thing I didn't mention to you last night. There will be some occasional travel involved. Is that going to be a problem?"
"No," she answered. Travel would be perfect. It would be exactly what she needed. "In fact, I'll enjoy it."
"Excellent."
They made an appointment at his office for the next day, discussed a few more details of the job, and he mentioned a salary that Barbara thought was very reasonable considering the fact that she would only be working p
art-time. Of course, it would mean she wouldn't be able to afford a place of her own for a while, but maybe Michael and Kate wouldn't mind putting her up for a few more months, and if she worked really hard, she was certain she could convince Mr. Daily to take her on full-time sooner than he had planned She hung up feeling vaguely satisfied with the first real step she had taken toward a new life. When she turned around, Kyle was standing there.
He was still wearing the same green turtleneck and slacks from the night before. His face was haggard and unshaved, and his eyes puffy and red rimmed, as though from drunkenness, or sleeplessness. For a moment she was actually afraid he was drunk—she had never seen him like that. But when he moved past her to pour a cup of coffee, not the faintest scent of alcohol clung to him, and she released a cautious, tight breath of relief. To face him at all this morning would be difficult, but she had known it was inevitable, and at least he was sober.
"You took the job," he said expressionlessly, filling his cup.
"Y-yes." She could not look at him without remembering the ecstasy she had experienced in his arms the night before, she could not remember it without experiencing a twist of agony and yearning… She had to move away, so she walked as casually as she could back to the breakfast nook, where her own coffee waited. Her hands were twisted tightly before her and she forced herself to release them, lest she betray her awful nervousness to him. "It was really too good to turn down."
"I see," he said heavily. After a moment he sat across from her. His eyes were a careful mask concealing a depth of pain too close to the surface, and for a moment he concentrated on his coffee, saying nothing.
She watched him bring the cup to his lips, and her eyes fell upon those strong brown fingers encircling the mug. A wash of pain so acute it was almost physical struck her as she remembered the delight those hands had created within her last night. Oh, God, she still wanted him, with every fiber of her body she wanted him, and surely he could sense what it was costing her to face him this morning, so calm and rational, knowing that it must never be again.
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