by Diane Saxon
“Can I get you something to eat?” Low and husky, her voice shook as she looked for some sign of thaw in him, found none, just a growing uncomfortable embarrassment.
“No. I told Kate I’d be back for dinner. She’s expecting me. I just called round to pick up some of my stuff.”
Mortified, she sat immobile. She’d literally thrown herself at him, leaped all over him, pulled his clothes off and virtually raped him on her own doorstep and because of three stupid words, he couldn’t wait to get out the door.
“Oh, well don’t let me keep you,” she replied with a weak smile and jerky hand movement. “I wasn’t expecting you anyhow. I’m not sure I would have anything in.” They both knew that was a blatant lie.
He coughed gently as he looked down at her, his eyes never quite meeting hers.
“I needed to pick up some of my things,” he repeated.
“Well then, you better get a move on. I have things to do.” She flicked a hand in the air to indicate for him to go through her house as she sat almost naked on the floor with her knees tucked into her chest.
She thought he was going to say something for a moment as he stared back down at her. She heard him fill his lungs. He turned on his heel and walked through her kitchen.
Panic almost blinded her as she grabbed her clothes, wrenched them on, and pulled them into place, shoving her ripped underwear into her pocket to stand awkwardly, trying to think of something she could say to him when he came back. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to have been delirious to see her. It had been all she had been able to think about ever since he had left.
She wandered out to the porch, bent to pick up five of his buttons, and sat on the swing willing herself not to curl up in a ball of deep humiliation. She rubbed the smooth, white, little buttons while she waited and wondered what she was going to say to him as he left. She wouldn’t cry for him. She would never degrade herself that way. She’d never shed a tear.
*
He made his way into her bedroom, started to pick up things he had accumulated while he’d stayed there. A duffel bag stashed neatly inside her wardrobe, three T-shirts—one lay on her bed she’d obviously been sleeping in while he was away. He picked up a pair of jeans, several pairs of underpants from her underwear drawer and sneakers from under the bed. He wandered into the bathroom, retrieved a razor, aftershave, toothbrush, deodorant. He’d used her toothpaste, shower gel, shampoo.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Sitting on the toilet seat he ran a quick glance around the room.
How had he managed to get here? It had all happened without him realizing. They’d become embedded in each other’s lives without it being a deliberate act, without discussing it.
He’d made it clear at the beginning he wasn’t looking for any attachments, but the lines had become blurred, time had moved on without him, and suddenly here he was, sitting in Bill’s bathroom with a relationship he never asked for, never wanted, falling apart around his ears.
He held his head in his hands. For probably the first time in his life his brain had failed him. It had gone completely blank.
He opened the door and walked through the house carrying his duffel bag.
He paused in front of her. She’d dressed and was sat on the swing seat, her legs pulled up to her chest as she stared out at his vehicle. The dogs lay nearby.
He had no idea what to say.
“I’ll probably see you around then.”
She gave a quick nod, but remained silent.
He walked down the steps and stooped to pick up his dusty blue tie. The dogs had padded down the porch steps beside him, so he gave them both a scratch on the head, and then got in the BMW, swung it round in a circle, and drove away without looking back and with less haste than when he had arrived.
*
Jumping up, she hurtled down the drive after the car.
“Bastard!” she shrieked at the top of her voice and as the pain hit her, her knees gave way and she sank to the dusty ground and clutched at the burning ache in her stomach.
She watched him drive out of sight. The dogs snuffled at her face.
Her jaw clenched as she straightened and picked herself up out of the dirt. Glancing down she flicked the dust off her jeans in disgust and then went downstairs to her gym to kick the shit out of her punching bag.
No tears, she promised herself, never any tears.
Chapter 15
He felt like shit. He’d treated her like shit. He’d sat around Kate’s kitchen drinking coffee for two days in virtual silence with his sister sidling around him as though he wasn’t there.
Ops were all set up, and he was practically ready to go. Any day now.
He didn’t know what to do. He’d hurt her. Hell, he must have hurt her. She’d just told him she loved him, and his heart had frozen solid. She’d put the fear of God into him. He’d fooled himself all along if he’d thought he wasn’t going to hurt her. Why the hell hadn’t he taken notice of the warnings he’d been given, from Jack, her brothers? He’d carried on, ignorant of what they were telling him, or oblivious. He’d wanted her, so he’d taken her without a thought.
He had to go back. Make it right with her before he left. Apologize. Perhaps he’d take her some flowers. She’d said no one ever bought her flowers.
He sighed as he watched Kate wipe Gemma’s little rosebud mouth with a white cloth as the baby sat in her high chair.
His sisters knew each time he went, there was the possibility of him never coming back. They accepted it. They got on with their lives, and they had each other and their new husbands. What would Bill do?
“Well?” Kate stood with her hands on her hips and pinned him with one of her looks—his mother’s look.
“Well, what?”
“Well, when are you going to put it right?”
“What do you know about it?”
A sky-blue gaze met a clear green one.
“Nothing. Bill’s saying nothing. You’re saying nothing. So there’s something. Go and sort it out.”
* * * *
He’d removed everything from her house. Even his scent had diminished once she had washed her sheets and towels. The bastard had even taken the T-shirt she liked to sleep in.
She’d finished work and was just about to prepare food, not that she was eating particularly well, but it gave her some routine if she prepared her meals.
She saw his BMW trundle down the track toward her house, slower than it had last time. She decided to let him come to her and turned to face him as he walked in her kitchen.
*
A stream of sunlight reflected off her raven hair, tossing shards of blue light around her head. Her chocolate-colored eyes glowed in a melting pot of sadness, hurt, and anger. Every emotion she had reflected in the depths of her deep, beautiful eyes.
She thought she was such a hard-ass, but she had no chance of hiding her emotions. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and waited in silence.
He held a bunch of white tulips in his hand, and as he stepped forward to offer them to her, her left eyebrow shot up, she crossed her arms defensively across her chest and stopped him dead. He was going to need more than a bunch of flowers, he decided. He scuffed his foot on the floor, and then squinted back at her.
“You going to offer me coffee?” She didn’t answer, didn’t move, her arms remained crossed, and she tapped her foot in irritation.
Everything he had thought to say to her flew out of his head and left him silent, unable to form the words that might soothe her. He closed his eyes and then let his hands drop to his side. The tulips hung limp in his clenched fist.
“What can I say? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Her smile was quick and feral, a small baring of her teeth.
“Well you did, but don’t you worry yourself on my account. I got Mac to pull the splinter out of my ass. ’Course, I had to tell him I’d got it from my swing seat, and then he had to plane it down to make sure there weren’t any
more splinters. You caused him a lot of trouble.” Petulant, she poked her bottom lip out. “It only took him a couple of hours.”
“Look, this is stupid.” Careless, he threw the tulips onto the kitchen table, placed his hands on his hips; his eyebrows drew down over his eyes, and his mouth tightened. She leaned against the kitchen counter, one hip shot forward, the feral look replaced with a belligerent one.
“So, what are you doing here?”
He didn’t know. He just couldn’t leave her alone. He was damned sure it wasn’t his fault. It must be hers. He wagged an accusing finger at her.
“You knew I was only here for a short while, I’ve never made any promises. I never wanted you to become attached.”
“Ah now, tiger, my attachment to you broke when I watched your skinny ass hightailing it out of my door still trying to get your pants up. If you think you can hurt me more than you did when you ran out in the middle of having sex with me, you are sadly mistaken.” She pulled herself up to her full height and shot him a contemptuous look.
“I only hope Katie’s dinner was worth cutting our reunion short for. Damn, but she is a mighty fine cook, though I say so myself.”
This could be a long haul. He turned a kitchen chair around backward and sat on it, cupped his chin in his hands. He sighed heavily. He couldn’t help but admire her gutsy comeback. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to understand her varying facades. He wasn’t supposed to want to.
“Now don’t you go getting yourself all comfy.” She waggled a long finger at him, “’Cos we’re going to have a good argument here, tiger.” She swept the tulips off the table into her hand and turned to fill a vase with water, whacked a sharp blade through the stems She arranged their limp heads as best she could.
“I’m sorry. When you said you loved me, I panicked.” He kept his voice low and persuasive. “I hadn’t realized how involved you’d become. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She whipped around. “Why you egotistical…”
“Bill, I don’t want you to love me.”
Grabbing the tulips out the vase she launched them at him. He considered himself lucky she hadn’t thrown the vase as well. He never moved as they landed all around him.
“It’s too late.” Her voice was thick, but he knew she would never cry. “I can’t un-love you. It’s just the way it is. I’m sorry if that inconveniences you.”
Hauling a chair out, she sat opposite him, her legs stretched out in front of her. Picking up a tulip she started yanking the petals off it, and then slapped it back down on the table.
“Why did you come back?”
“I care for you.”
“How insulting.” She folded her arms across her chest.
Plucking a tulip off his shoulder, he laid it gently on the table in front of him.
“I don’t mean to be. Look, this is the longest time I’ve been off since I started this job at the age of seventeen. My family is really important to me, but outside of them, I can’t have a relationship. I know soon I’m going to get a phone call and I have to go. I may be away for weeks or years. There’s a great possibility I may not come back at all.”
Frustration rolled through him. He had no idea whether she understood what he was trying to say to her. He wasn’t sure himself. He didn’t want to tell her he felt he was getting too old, that he no longer wanted to do the job. He didn’t want to give her any kind of hope.
“I never meant to make you unhappy. I should never have let you fall in love with me.”
“You didn’t let me. I have free will.” She still sounded irritated, but her raging anger seemed to have slipped away.
A long silence reigned. He rested his chin on his forearms as they stared at each other across the expanse of the table.
“Well now, tiger, I think we have three options here. One, you can go and spend what time you have left with your sisters and their families, and we can avoid each other, pretending we never met.”
She shifted her position, angling her head as she contemplated the next option.
“Two, you can stick two fingers up to the British government and run off into the sunset with me.” She wrinkled her nose rubbed it with the back of her hand, as though that was a stupid-ass, impossible idea, sniffed and continued, “Or three, we can agree to enjoy each other’s company and carry on as we were, no promises, no attachments, and when you have to go…we’re done…no regrets. When you go, I understand you won’t come back. Ever.” Her voice was perfectly reasonable, she sounded as though she was coolly reading someone their rights after finding them shoplifting.
He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, and stood up shaking his head slightly. He whispered softly, “I’m sorry…” And walked out of the door without looking back.
“Well I guess option two’s out of the question then,” she yelled down the driveway after him.
* * * *
It took a long time for sleep to claim her that night. She thrashed around in her bed until eventually her own body defied her brain, and she slipped into dreamless oblivion.
Her eyelids flickered as her senses brought her back to the surface. She could smell him. Then he was there, sliding into her bed, he wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her neck.
“Option three, I choose option three,” he murmured huskily into her neck as she turned to take his mouth with hers, offering him her comfort and substance, giving her love without being asked, without using the words that would corner him.
She pushed her heartache to one side and resolved to take what she could for as long as she could. He would be hers, until the phone call came.
She gently pushed him to his back and gave of herself freely, moving her mouth across his chest and slowly down the golden line of hair running down his belly and lower.
When they were spent, she lay across him, listened to his breathing, as she drew whorls on his chest with her index finger. She knew he was awake, and as the dawn arrived her new resolve firmed. She raised her head to look into his eyes and ignored the sadness in their aqua depths.
“How did you manage to sneak in my house so quietly?” She succeeded in putting a little cheer in her voice as she poked his chest with her fingernail. She wasn’t going to spend the precious hours with him moping around making him feel bad that he didn’t love her.
His eyebrows twitched, he stared at her for a moment longer while she held her breath, and then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m a highly trained operative of the British government.”
“What are you trained for, breaking and entering?” She didn’t know how close she came with that guess. “I could arrest you.”
“You want to cuff me, go right ahead.” She was sure he could get free from a pair of cuffs any time he wanted, but the prospect of putting her cuffs on him held a certain appeal. “I didn’t break in, though. You left the back door unlocked again.”
“Well how in hell’s name did you get past my dogs?”
“I drugged them.” She sat up abruptly, slapped her hand down hard on his bare ribs, delighting in his wince.
“You did not, tell me you did not!”
He chuckled and pulled her back down on top of his chest, and then reversed positions so he lay on top. He kissed the end of her nose, and then her mouth, gazed into her eyes and kissed her again.
“No, I did not. I gave them a scratch on the head and a doggie treat, and then I told them to go to their bed.” He kissed her again, long and lingering, ran his hand gently across her skin, massaged her stomach, her ribs, her breast.
“Well, that’s okay, then.” Her voice had mellowed. “But, I think I need to speak to them about being so fickle, and I can tell you if they’re dopey, you’re in deep shit pal.”
His mouth moved down to caress the pulse beat at the base of her neck, stealing her breath as he nibbled with his teeth, stirring her soul as he touched with his tongue. His hands demanded more, and her heart surged. She needed him to s
top before she poured her love out to him again.
“Perhaps I’ll do that later,” she purred, as she stretched her body and gave a little yawn. “But right now, all I need is a good sleep.”
He stopped what he was doing, lifted his head from her breast to stare at her. She studied him through narrowed eyes. Her mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh, she stretched again, allowed her body to slide against his, and then sighed as though settling for a nap.
“I think we should make love again.” He trailed his tongue lazily over her nipple watching with interest as it stiffened. “But if you’re too tired, you just lie back and think of England.”
Chapter 16
It was the first time she’d ever felt awkward with Kate and Lydia.
Michael was quiet. He’d been quiet since she’d come home from work the night before.
When Lydia announced she was pregnant, Bill’s stomach burned uneasily.
She’d never hugged or kissed in her life. It had always been backslaps and sucking it up, don’t show a weakness, and never cry. Yet, here they were, this close-knit family with hugs and kisses and tears in their eyes.
She’d always felt so confident and cocky, and now she just felt like an outsider.
With his arms around his sister, Michael kissed her on the top of her head.
“I’m really sorry about this, but I’m afraid I have my own announcement to make. I have to leave tonight.”
There was a moment’s complete silence before the room erupted into questions asked at the same time.
The furor continued to form a solid roaring background of indecipherable sound to Bill, who stood alone in the crowded kitchen in utter silence waiting for Michael to look her way.
Not for one moment had she believed he would take the coward’s way out. She closed her eyes and felt nausea rising, lack of oxygen made her light-headed, and still the cacophony of sound raged in her head.