by Sandra Brown
Elizabeth raised her head and smoothed her hand over Megan's straight, wheat-colored hair. "No, darling. I'll do it. But thank you for offering."
"I told Matt maybe he should ask you first."
"I'll talk to him when he's had a chance to calm down."
"Are you going to let Thad come with us?"
Her daughter's wistful tone hit Elizabeth like a steamroller. Every little girl needed a daddy and Megan missed having one. "Of course he can come," she heard herself saying as she forced a smile.
After the dishes were done, she went in search of her son and found him sprawled across his bed, his Pooh bear tucked under his arm. Dried tears had left salty tracks on his cheeks. Elizabeth sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss his forehead.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you." He said nothing, but swallowed a sob. "I was surprised, that's all." She explained why she should have been consulted before he issued the invitation. "But I guess it's all right this time."
His cloudy eyes cleared immediately. "He can come?"
"If he wants to."
"Gee, that'll be great!"
Yeah, great, Elizabeth thought. After the children were in bed, she reasoned that Thad might be as unenthusiastic about attending the school carnival as she was to have him along. He might have accepted the invitation out of pity for her fatherless children. Shouldn't she give him an opportunity to back out gracefully?
She removed her apron and applied fresh lipstick before walking across the dark lawns. He was sitting in an easy chair on his back porch. Over the weekend he had covered the screens with glass panels to winterize the room. By the light of the TV set, she could see a tray with the remains of his dinner on it. A steak and a beer.
He wasn't watching the television, but reading a magazine. She wondered if it was a men's magazine full of pictures of naked women. If so, now wasn't a good time to come calling. But she'd come this far and she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so she could stop dreading it. He didn't notice her until she knocked. His head came around and his eyes speared into her like twin lasers.
He left his chair and switched off the TV set before opening the door. He had laid the magazine down in the seat of his chair; Elizabeth didn't have a chance to see the cover.
"Hi," she said awkwardly.
"Hi. Come in."
"No, I, uh, can't stay but a minute. I left the children sleeping." She wasn't about to go into his house alone. What if some of the other neighbors saw her? Human nature being what it was, they would jump to the wrong conclusions. Gossip would spread as quickly as wildfire.
He stepped through the door and reached behind him to close it. "Is something wrong?"
"No. Well, that is, I hope not." She wasn't making any sense and knew he must think she was a jibbering fool. As well as she could remember, she'd never spoken a coherent word to this man. There was no reason for her to be so nervous. He was just a man, for heaven's sake ... but so much man.
"Matt told me he invited you to the Fall Festival at his school," she said in a breathless rush.
"He did."
"Are you going?"
"I told him I would."
"I know. That's what he said. But I don't want you to feel obligated to go just because he asked you to."
He studied her for a moment. "You don't want me along, is that it?"
"No! I mean, yes. I mean..." She drew a deep breath. "It's fine with me if you really want to attend something so... It's an elementary-school carnival. There'll be a thousand kids running around like wild Indians and frantic parents chasing after them. It's noisy and messy and ... and..." She made a helpless gesture. "It's not something I think you'll enjoy."
"Because I'm a confirmed old bachelor."
Damn! Now I've insulted him, she thought when he turned his back on her and headed toward his Jeep parked in the driveway. "It's not that, Mr. – Thad. I just wanted to give you an opportunity to back out if you wanted to. I'd make it all right with Matt and spare you having to tell him."
He had let down the tailgate of the Jeep and now slid a monstrous box from the back of it. He hefted it to his shoulders and retraced his steps into the backyard. Not knowing what else to do, she dogged his footsteps. He eased the box to the ground.
"I've never had kids, but I'm not so old that I don't remember being one, Elizabeth." When he spoke her name, it did something funny to her tummy. Like his fingers had stroked her there.
"I didn't mean to imply that—"
"I even remember a few school carnivals and how excited I got over them. I was lucky enough to have my mom and dad to go with me."
Elizabeth leaned against the nearest tree trunk and sighed. "You make me feel as guilty as Matt did. I scolded him when he told me he had invited you. I was mortified. I didn't want you to feel obligated. He called me the meanest mom in the whole world."
Thad chuckled. "I hardly think you're that. I don't feel obligated to go to the festival. In fact, I think I'll enjoy it a lot. And I didn't want to make you feel guilty. Okay? Now can we stop apologizing? In fact, I'd like to drop the subject altogether. Tell me what you think of this."
He knelt down and tipped the large cardboard box forward. Elizabeth dropped to her knees beside him and studied the photograph on the side of the box.
"A hammock! How lovely."
"You think so?"
"Yes. I've always wanted one. One exactly like this." According to the picture on the box, the hammock was made of woven white jute. Long fringe hung from the sides of it.
"I've always wanted one too. I thought I'd hang it between these two trees." He pointed them out to her.
"Oh, yes. And in the summertime, it'll be wonderful to—" She broke off abruptly.
"To what?" he asked quietly, watching her face. When she declined to answer him, he said, "To lie in?"
"Isn't that what hammocks are for?"
"Uh-huh. Feel free to lie in mine anytime."
"Thank you."
"But you won't, will you?"
She looked up at him quickly, stunned by his keen perception. "Probably not."
"Why not?"
"I wouldn't want to take advantage of the offer."
He shook his head. "Nope. That's not it. You don't want to lie in my hammock because the other neighbors might start gossiping about us. They might think you're lying in my bed as well."
Her stomach bobbed in her middle like a helium balloon, weightless and flighty with nowhere to go.
"There's absolutely nothing for the neighbors to gossip about."
"And you're making damn sure it stays that way."
"Do you blame me?"
"Blame?" His brows drew together over the bridge of his nose. "'Blame' isn't the word I'd use. I just think it's silly for you to go out of your way to avoid me."
She had no comeback so she didn't offer one. He had her pegged and she'd only look sillier to deny his allegation.
"I understand why you go to such lengths," he said softly. "You have to protect your reputation. People are watching to see if you'll slip up, become an irresponsible parent, do something scandalous."
"It's almost a cliché, how young widows are supposed to be—"
"Sex starved," he bluntly supplied. "And I'm a bachelor who lives alone. That in itself makes me suspect. So if you came inside my house for something as innocent as borrowing a cup of sugar, the gossips would have it that we'd had a quickie on the kitchen table." He laughed shortly. "Quickies have their uses, but personally I've never cared much for them. They're like rushing through an excellent bottle of wine. You don't drink it because you're thirsty. You drink it for the pleasure you can derive from its taste." His blue-hot gaze moved to her mouth. "Some things should be savored, lingered over."
Elizabeth's throat had closed to any words she might have uttered, had she been able to think of any. Her heart, however, was making enough racket to compensate. She was certain he could hear it banging against her ribs.
"You're sh
ivering." He raised his hand and touched her arm where the flesh was pebbly.
"I'm cold. I should have brought a sweater with me."
"Come on, I'll walk you to your door."
"That's not necessary."
"It is to me."
They confronted each other stubbornly, but Elizabeth was the one who eventually capitulated. She had left the light on in the kitchen and, as they picked their way across the dark lawns, was amazed to see how much was visible through the windows. She rarely thought to close the blinds because she liked letting the sunlight in during the day.
Could Thad see into her house from his screened back porch? She must remember never to come into the kitchen at night in a state of dishabille or he wouldn't need his girlie magazines to get his kicks.
"Have I thanked you for trimming my side of the hedge?" she asked, remembering that she owed him a thank you.
"Did you notice?"
"I noticed. Thanks. How are the puppies?"
"Doing very well. Growing."
"Good." They had reached her back door and could, thankfully, end this ridiculous conversation.
"What time Saturday?" he asked.
"I think the kids said seven. If you're sure."
"I'm sure. I'll pick you up."
She started to object, but something in the determined set of his chin prevented that. "Okay. That sounds fine, Thad. Well, good night."
"Elizabeth." He caught her hand before she could shield herself with the screen door.
"Yes?"
"Have they healed?" He ran his thumb over the palm of her hand. His touch was feather-light, but it might just as well have been electric for the currents it sent through her arm.
"My hands? Yes. They've healed. Completely." As though doubting her, he raised her hand closer to his face and studied the palm. He was still staring at it when he said, "If you should ever need me, for any reason, call. To hell with what the neighbors think."
When he did lift his gaze back to hers, it took her breath. Before she could regain enough of it to offer a comment or another good night, he released her hand and disappeared in the darkness.
* * *
Chapter 4
«^»
The stranger emerged from the darkness. He was spawned from it and was one with it. He materialized in front of me – tall, wide of shoulder, narrow of hip, a delta-shaped torso of manly muscle.
I couldn't see his face clearly, but I knew him instantly. His features were indistinct, but I recognized him. And because I did, his sudden appearance wasn't frightening. Exciting, yes. Thrilling, definitely. Forbidden, by all means. But not frightening.
He said nothing. Nor did I. Words were superfluous. We knew what the other expected, wanted. In the darkness we would give and take without inhibition. Pleasure was our common ground. Personalities were made insignificant by primal need. Neither pasts nor futures mattered. Only this present. This present redolent with a carnality which must be admitted, addressed, and assuaged to our mutual satisfaction.
He reached out and stroked my hair. Slowly he removed the single pin which magically held it all up. It spilled luxuriantly over and through his fingers. I knew this pleased him, that he loved the feel of my hair in his hands. Even though I still couldn't distinguish his face, I knew he was smiling as he slid his fingers through the thick strands.
I laid my hands on his chest. Strangely, I wasn't shy. In this velvet-dark realm, timidity didn't exist. Boldness was expected, even invited. No one would see. No one would know. The darkness was a friendly entity. It cloaked every indiscretion and made all things acceptable. Here one wouldn't be held accountable for his actions. There were no rules of behavior, no duties beyond satisfying every secret lust.
The hard, muscled curves of his chest filled my palms. I curled my fingers into the firm flesh that barely yielded to the pressure. He was wearing a shirt, but merely a thought from me dissolved it and his chest was instantly bare.
Inquisitively I combed through the pelt of springy hair. My fingertips were sensitized to each nuance of texture and form. His nipples were hard and distended, like pebbles. I leaned forward and made one wet with the tip of my tongue. He moaned with pleasure.
He cradled my face between his hands and tilted it up. He stroked my damp lips with his thumbs. Parting them, he ran the pads of his thumbs over my teeth. I bit him lightly, playfully scraping my teeth against his skin.
He slid his hands down my neck, then farther down my chest to my breasts. Taking them in his hands, he kneaded them gently, rubbing the nipples with his fingertips until they peaked.
Our lips came together in a fiery kiss. A fierce melding of mouths. His tongue mated with mine. Passions flared. Roughly he backed me against a wall that I hadn't known was there. He could barely control this savage hunger that had suddenly seized him. I found it exhilarating and trembled in response to it.
He kissed his way down my throat, then his hot, seeking mouth closed around my nipple. Its ardent tugging motion coaxed an involuntary moan from my lips. Instinctually, I knew that his eyes were closed, that he was indulging an unspoken need within himself. I wanted to have milk to feed him with, and, when I said those words aloud, he was deeply touched.
His hands contracted in a gentle love-squeeze at my waist before moving over my hipbones. All I need do was ask, and my greatest desire would be fulfilled. That I knew. But I said nothing. I wanted to prolong the delicious agony of escalating desire. Besides, requests were unnecessary. Unselfishly he anticipated my needs. All I had to do was think of what I wanted and he would do it.
He knew precisely when and how to enter me. The taking was sudden, swift, sure. He filled my yearning body with his steely heat. It stroked me to the brink of oblivion. His hands were everywhere, gliding over my skin. His mouth was everywhere, open and hot.
He exercised no discipline. He had no conscience. He'd been bred to give pleasure. Born of sexual desire, suckled on lust, he knew nothing else but to give me ultimate joy and satisfaction. The fury of my orgasm was beyond any thing I'd ever experienced before or had known was possible.
Totally spent, damp with my sweat, with his, I clung to him weakly. Tenderly and affectionately, he stroked my hair, lifting it off my dewy shoulders. At last, his features still obscured by the forgiving and redeeming darkness, he left me and receded into the nothingness from which he had come.
I had never seen my incredible lover's face. Never heard his voice. Yet I would know him should he ever come to me again.
* * *
The incessant buzzing inside her head didn't recede with her faceless lover. It stayed in her bloodstream like a pain-killing narcotic long after the pain was gone.
Groggy and disoriented, Elizabeth came awake and opened her eyes. Lord, but she felt drained. Her four limbs weighed a ton apiece. A complacent smile lingered on her moist lips. She couldn't scoop together an ounce of energy. Lassitude held her anchored to the bed and incapable of movement. Her skin was covered with a sheen of perspiration. Her nightgown was hopelessly twisted and clinging to her. A provocative heat resided between her thighs. It was concentrated there, having been funneled there from her entire system. Her nipples were stiff. They tingled.
Suddenly she blinked, realizing that the buzzing inside her head wasn't the aftereffect of incredibly erotic lovemaking but the drone of a power chain saw coming from somewhere in the neighborhood. There was no lover, mysterious or otherwise. She lay alone in her chaste bed. It wasn't dark. Sunlight was streaming through her shuttered windows.
The day was Saturday. And later this day, she had a date with Thad Randolph.
Heaving a sigh of dread, she swung her feet to the floor and sat up on the edge of the bed. The clock on her nightstand told her it was a few minutes after nine. She reached for her robe lying across the end of the bed and pulled it on, overlapping it across her breasts, pretending that their crests weren't still itchy and flushed. She stood up, trying to support herself on legs that were wobbly and weak.<
br />
"Lilah would have loved that one," she mumbled as she padded into the bathroom. Talk about fantasies! Lord! The ol' nameless, faceless, voiceless, guiltless encounter couldn't be topped for sheer eroticism. It was every woman's most secret fantasy because everything was permissible. There were no consequences to deal with later.
Sick – that's what she was. If the state authorities knew what she had dreamed about, they'd probably take her children away from her.
After taking a shower, a very cold one, she found her children in the kitchen eating bowls of presweetened cereal. She'd let sugar win the war over natural fiber years ago, having decided that the final victory wouldn't be worth the morning battles. She kissed and hugged her children in turn before starting the coffeemaker.