Straight From The Heart

by Janelle Taylor

  “Pauleen?” Stephen hesitated. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Oh, come on.” Kim sniffed in disbelief. “You were the perfect couple.”

  “Who said we were the perfect couple?”

  “Local headlines. People who knew you.”

  “Nobody knew us,” Stephen assured her bitterly. “We were all for show.”

  “She’s a very beautiful woman.”

  Stephen shot Kim a look of amazement. Kim made a dozen Pauleens. A thousand! She had that wholesome look of a country girl in a denim sleeveless dress picking wildflowers and wearing a floppy hat, yet she had the sass of a waitress used to juggling overeager male patrons.

  “Like I said, we were all for show.”

  “How did you end up with Jason?” Kim asked in a small voice.

  So, that was it. Given her own set of circumstances—and his involvement in them—she couldn’t understand how he’d managed to wrest Jason away from his mother. Pauleen, by virtue of being Jason’s mother, was good; ergo, Stephen was evil.

  “Like I always get everything,” he said with a trace of bitterness, “by legal trickery and coercion. How could I possibly win any other way?”

  She had the grace to blush. Bending her head, she wrinkled her nose in an entirely enticing way and whispered, “Sorry.”

  And right then Stephen knew he had to stop protecting Pauleen. Regardless of the terms of their divorce and custody decision, Kim had a right to know the truth. Keeping the truth to himself hadn’t helped anyone: himself, Jason, or Pauleen.

  “You think I had a storybook marriage, don’t you?” he asked, his mouth twisting.

  “No . . . if it were storybook, it would have had a happy ending.”

  “Pauleen and I got married for all the wrong reasons.” He stopped, wishing he hadn’t used the cliché.

  “What were they?”

  Kim turned to him, her eyes full of warmth and interest. It stopped Stephen for a moment. He wasn’t used to someone who was so open, so ready to listen.

  “We were young and in love.”

  Kim’s lips parted. “Those are the wrong reasons?”

  “All right. That isn’t quite true. We were young, and we kept telling ourselves we were in love, and Pauleen was pregnant.”

  “Oh.”

  “Looking back, I realize I was ready to get married anyway, and that sort of made the decision. Then we had Jason. Pauleen didn’t want any more children, so that was it.”

  Kim’s brows lifted. “Alan didn’t want any more after Bobby, either.”

  “Maybe they should have gotten together,” Stephen suggested with a trace of humor, to which Kim smiled. “Anyway, we stayed married, but . . . there was always something missing. Another cliché, but there it is. I didn’t think about it anymore. I threw myself into my work—earned myself the reputation of ‘shark’—and just kept going.

  “Pauleen was unhappy, too. Neither of us addressed it. When the core’s bad, you rot from the inside out. That’s what we did. I handled it my way, and Pauleen handled it hers.”

  It was all he could do to keep himself from reaching over and dragging Kim to him. He wanted to hold someone. He wanted to assuage the pain of the past, and he wanted to love someone else. He couldn’t remember ever being so honest and insightful about his own feelings.

  Kimberly chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. He could sense how much his words penetrated, and why not? They were coming straight from the heart. “I remember that barbecue at Betsy’s. You were so relaxed, but . . .”

  “Pauleen drank too much,” he finished for her, relieved that she’d stumbled on the truth. Or maybe Pauleen’s problem was more obvious than he knew. “That was how she coped. Eventually she checked herself into a treatment center for alcoholism, but it was only temporary help. I got Jason by virtue of being the more responsible parent, and if you want the bald truth, Pauleen was relieved. She fussed about it. Told everyone her ‘shark’ of a husband had stolen her son.”

  Kimberly grimaced, remembering Alan’s denouncement of Stephen and recalling the way she’d jumped on the bandwagon when she’d heard similar rumors floating around after Pauleen’s badmouthing went public.

  “But Pauleen couldn’t handle Jason. She could scarcely handle herself. So, when we divorced, I got Jason. We’re all happier now that it’s behind us.”

  Kim inhaled deeply, expelling her breath on a long sigh. “I asked Betsy about you and Pauleen, but she wouldn’t tell me. She said it was your story.”

  “Well, it’s not much of a story.” Stephen snorted. “It’s just a sad statistic.”

  “How’s Pauleen now?”

  “Most of the time—better. But she does have bouts when she’s out of control. That’s why Jason spends so much time at the Reeds’. He can’t be with Pauleen. It makes him, and me, too nervous. They can visit each other, but Pauleen is not responsible, and Jason’s an impressionable sixteen.”

  “I don’t talk to Alan,” Kim revealed. “I mean, yes, we communicate necessary information. Like ‘I’m picking Bobby up at six for Little League practice,’ and ‘Bobby cut his finger and I ran him to the emergency room,’ but otherwise, it’s best if we don’t talk to each other.”

  “When I think of him hitting you . . .” Stephen took a breath. “I want to kill him.”

  “You’ll have to take a number, because I’m ahead of you in line,” she said lightly.

  She shot him a soft glance out of the side of her eyes, and it was too much for Stephen. Gently, very gently, he drew her into his arms. She didn’t resist, and after a long, long moment she let her head fall to his chest, her breath escaping on a sigh. Stephen closed his eyes. This is what he’d missed with Pauleen. This tenderness. This love.

  His heart skipped a beat. Love? He hadn’t thought in those terms in years. Not romantic love. Not the hearts and flowers and stars-in-your-eyes kind of nonsense that he’d felt once during puberty over Jennifer Dalton, the most popular girl in the seventh grade. And, of course, that had been puppy love.

  Instinctively he started assessing his feelings, digging deep inside himself to make some kind of rational sense of this. At some level he’d always thought of Kimberly Harden as the kind of woman a man could spend his whole life with; she just came off that way. But on another level, he hadn’t really thought of her for him.

  Why not? he asked himself now.

  He had no answer.

  She stirred in his arms. “I’ve spent a lot of time being mad at you,” she admitted.

  “I know. You had just cause.”

  “Actually, no I didn’t. I blamed you for Alan hiring an attorney to take Bobby away.”

  “Alan did come to me first.”

  She lifted her head. “What? Are you trying to play devil’s advocate now? Hey, counselor, just agree with me, okay?”

  He was enchanted. “Okay. I agree with you.”

  His capitulation brought a mischievous light to her eyes. “And you’ll keep agreeing with me, right?”

  “This sounds dangerous.”

  “Just keep agreeing.”

  Stephen eyed her thoughtfully. They’d reached a new plateau in their fledgling romance. An element of trust had sneaked in. “Okay,” he said.

  “You are my slave.”

  “Oh, no.” Stephen started chuckling. Her scent rose upward. He breathed deeply, filling his head, reveling in the abandonment.

  “You are my slave, and you will do as I ask. You will not add another log to the fire when it’s just embers, otherwise we shall all swelter to death.”

  He could hear the laughter in her voice. His arms tightened around her. “The slave would like to kiss the master.”

  “Forget it. You will also refrain from asking favors.”

  “What would you have me do, O Powerful One?” His hand, exhibiting a will of its own in direct opposition to her commands, reached up to cup her chin.

  “I think . . . you should . . . stop that . . .”

  “Now
?”

  “Immediately.” Her voice caught on a breath.

  His hand slowly slid down her cheek and neck, one finger lightly touching the pulse at the base of her throat. Passion beat there. For a moment they stood in silence, Kim gazing at the floor. When she reluctantly lifted her eyes again, Stephen bent down to touch his lips to hers, lightly at first, then with deep need. Kim didn’t resist. She let him hold her and kiss her, and her mouth meshed with his hungrily.

  It was too much. They were too attracted to each other. They kissed like teenagers who only had a limited time together, making each touch, each moment, each sigh count.

  Kim slid her arms around his neck. She wanted complete surrender, complete love. Deliberately, she crowded all her doubts to a small locked corner of her mind.

  “I want you,” he whispered. His body was hard against hers. He didn’t try to hide any feelings, any desires.

  Kim nodded, unable to speak. She didn’t mean it as a complete surrender, but that’s how Stephen took it. He swept her into his arms and carried her back through the cabin. She clung to him, suddenly scared. His gaze read her face, but before she could protest, his mouth swooped down on hers again, reminding her of the pleasures to come.

  When her back connected with the quilted bedspread, Kim’s sanity returned in a cold rush. “Stephen, wait!” she cried, hands pressed against his shoulders to ward him off.

  His green eyes swam with desire. She couldn’t look at him. He mesmerized her, and it made her think dangerous, wicked, delicious thoughts.

  “I can’t just throw caution to the wind.”

  “Oh, Kim, don’t talk,” he murmured against the warm skin of her neck. His body stretched out luxuriously beside her, half atop her, legs tangled.

  “This is insane.”

  “Why?” he demanded, lips against her throat.

  “Because!”

  His mouth cut off more protests. Kim’s senses swam under his tender assault. As soon as his lips left to discover the curve of her jaw, the lobe of her ear, she muttered, “I won’t like myself later.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “There’s always a tomorrow,” she half choked out. What was he doing? His tongue had found sections of her ear she hadn’t known existed!

  “Just love me . . .”

  It was so tempting. Why not? her heart demanded. Why not? But her head wasn’t so eager, so swamped with desire.

  Still . . .

  Because it was easier than fighting, Kim accepted his kisses and tender touches. His hand drifted downward, massaging her breast, and her heartbeat quickened in anticipation. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she tried to force out the drumbeat of warnings that filled her head. Why can’t I just make love to him? she demanded of herself. Other people do it all the time. Why not just this once? Why not?

  The answer came swiftly: because she had to be in love with him, and he had to be in love with her. She was pretty sure she was falling head over heels for him, but she didn’t believe for a minute that for him this was more than an attraction.

  With understanding came action; she pushed him away.

  “Kim,” he protested with a thick murmur, his own emotions difficult to override. But it was just sex for him, she reminded herself, and with a squirming twist she was out from under him and standing, shaking by the side of the bed.

  Stephen groaned and buried his face in the quilt in frustration.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a tease. I just can’t do this. I can’t. Sex is for people in love. I’m sorry, that’s just how I feel. I wouldn’t be able to spend this weekend with you, then go back to my regular life like nothing had happened,” Kim struggled to continue. “I’m—sorry.”

  Heaving a huge sigh, Stephen rolled to his back, sliding her a rueful glance. “You’ve said that three times. Stop apologizing.”

  “Well, I feel I have to. I may have sent out mixed signals. I’m—” She caught herself before she uttered it a fourth time.

  “I’m beginning to agree with you wholeheartedly,” he expelled.

  “About what?”

  “We can’t stay here together.”

  With that, he shot off the bed with a muscular twist and headed out of the bedroom, through the cabin, and out the front door into the drizzling afternoon.

  By nightfall the rain stopped, but there was still no sign of Stephen. Kimberly was torn between annoyance and worry. He’d taken off in his red Jeep, and she’d surreptitiously watched from the window as he’d heedlessly bumped and sloshed through puddles on his way.

  It was a fit of pique if she’d ever seen one. So what? It wasn’t her fault he was feeling horny and frustrated. Well, not totally anyway. He was the one who’d kept pushing everything, and so she’d run up against the wall of her own morals. There was no crime in it. A majority of the world might actually commend her for her values.

  So, why was she feeling like she’d made a terrible mistake?

  The clouds had blown away as if by magic, traveling across the sky and leaving little patches of blue until, just before sunset, the sky was clear. Now, Kim could see a myriad of stars flung into the black velvet heavens. She sat on the love seat, turned toward the window, trying not to let worry spoil the moment.

  Damn the man! This wasn’t a love nest planned for his pleasure and convenience. And it wasn’t an opportunity for them, either. Opportunity! Kim gave a very unladylike snort. She was coming to loathe that word. No, this was merely a mistake. They’d ended up at the same cabin together and were making the best of it. If all went well, the floods would recede by morning, and they’d both be out of here.

  Hasta la vista, baby!

  That is, if Stephen ever returned.

  Time ticked by, excruciatingly slowly. Needing something to do, Kim raided their larder, nibbling on several saltines. She didn’t even like them all that much. It was Bobby who’d thrown the box into the sack. Kim smiled and reminded herself to thank her son when she saw him again.

  What would Bobby think if she were to date Stephen Wright? Kim wondered idly. Probably pass out from pure delight for it would mean more of Jason Wright in his life—heaven on earth if there ever was one!

  Where was Stephen? If he didn’t show up soon, she’d be downright upset! In fact—

  Kim gasped as the lights suddenly went back on. “All right!” she cried, thrilled at the prospect of a connection to civilization. Snatching up the phone, she was disappointed to learn it still wasn’t working.

  Needing something to occupy her time, Kim chose the opportunity to throw together the spaghetti sauce, sans meat, and boil the pasta. Salad in the bag was long gone, but there were some apples and pears which Kim arranged on plates. She’d just found the wine cork when she heard the front door open.

  “Stephen?” she called, peering around the doorjamb. “My God! What happened to you?”

  He was covered with mud from head to foot.

  “I made it down to the river, but the water’s still over the bridge. We’re stuck on this side until probably tomorrow afternoon. I see power’s restored on the mountain though,” he observed.

  “But why are you so muddy?”

  “I tried to help a guy get his pickup out of the floodwaters. No chance. It’s just a matter of waiting.” He shot her a look. “But it won’t be much longer. Just one more night,” he added as he headed toward the bathroom.

  “Stephen, wait!” Kim called, but he turned on the taps to the shower. She wasn’t certain whether he heard her or not, but it hardly mattered. He wasn’t going anywhere, at least for one more night.

  Suddenly, she was gripped by anxiety. Only one more night. Though she’d made lots of noise about wanting to get away from him, those feelings had quickly changed. Now the idea of separating tomorrow and going back to their own lives filled her with dread.

  Kim uncorked the wine, lit the candles which still tilted drunkenly in their glasses, set the arrangement of fruit at two places, poured marinara sauce over
bowls of pasta, then tipped an Oregon pinot noir into a pair of surprisingly pretty wine goblets. She was waiting at the table when Stephen stepped out of the bathroom, once again wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt.

  He stopped short at the sight of her. Kim had changed earlier but had covered up her sundress with a terrycloth apron while she cooked, so he hadn’t seen the transformation. Now the way he looked at her made her blush.

  “You look beautiful,” he said after a moment, realizing he was staring.

  “Thank you.” The dress was a white, sleeveless cotton shift that showed off the soft tan she’d achieved before this sudden deluge had hit the Portland area and turned it into water world.

  She waited while he put on a shirt, white also, with the long sleeves rolled up. His forearms were sprinkled with masculine hair, several shades lighter than his own dark brown locks. His skin glowed like burnished copper in the candlelight.

  “As grateful as I was for power, I chose the candles instead,” she stammered, feeling a little foolish at her romanticism.

  “This looks great,” he said, inclining his head toward the meal.

  “I’m not a half-bad cook with a few modern conveniences,” Kim said lightly.

  “You’re not half-bad anyway,” he returned. Then, as if embarrassed, he said, “I checked the phone.”

  “It’s still not working, I know.”

  “I plugged in my cell phone battery charger. It won’t be long before we can get through.”

  “Great!”

  Now why did that feel so forced? Kim asked herself miserably as she toyed with her pasta and nibbled at the fruit. Even the red wine, wonderful as it was, wasn’t doing anything for her. Stephen, too, seemed self-absorbed and lost in his own thoughts.

  “Think we can date when we get back to the real world?”

  Kim stared at Stephen, wondering if she’d actually heard the words or had been hoping to hear them so badly that she’d imagined them. “What?” she asked.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” he remarked, his mouth twisting.

  “No! I mean, yes! That’s what I want.”