If Ever I Loved You

by Phyllis Halldorson

  "Aren't you assuming a great deal?" she said angrily. "You had no right—"

  "I'm not assuming anything and I have every right," he interrupted. "Are you forgetting that we're married? According to California's community property laws the house would be half yours whether I registered it that way or not. So is everything else I've bought in the past seven years."

  "But we've never—" Gina began.

  "I'm uncomfortably aware of what we've never done," Peter snapped, "and I intend to remedy that little oversight just as soon as I can persuade you to cooperate, but meanwhile our lack of cohabitation doesn't affect your rights as my wife."

  He sighed and ran his hand through his thick blond hair. "Let's not quarrel, honey," he said softly. "I don't expect you to move in immediately. I'll give you time to consider it, and there's something else you should know. If our marriage is ever dissolved the house will be all yours, no strings attached."

  Gina opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a silencing hand. "It's all arranged, I couldn't change it if I wanted to so don't argue."

  Gina was stunned. Why was Peter doing this? He'd been so sure that she'd only married him for his money, now he was forcing this valuable property on her. It must be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, possibly even more on today's market. He was making her financially independent even if she divorced him without ever having lived with him.

  She cleared her throat but even so her voice sounded raspy. "I don't want expensive gifts from you."

  "Then we'll call it a settlement. You've been my wife for a long time now and never once have you asked me for money, so let's say I owe it to you." He made a tentative effort to smile. "Now, do you want to see the rest of your house or shall I have Mrs. Webster serve lunch first?"

  Gina was surprised. "You mean you have a housekeeper out here?"

  Peter's smile was brighter this time. "Sure, and a caretaker too. Margaret and Bud Webster. They live in an apartment on the other side of the kitchen. Look, why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll go tell her we're ready to eat. We can tour the house afterwards."

  Gina nodded and walked toward a cream-colored velvet sofa. "Do you have a bar?" she asked. "I think I need a drink."

  "You can have anything you want, sweetheart," Peter answered. "All you have to do is ask. I'll get it for you as soon as I talk to Mrs. Webster."

  Gina settled herself on the long comfortable sofa and looked around her. The room was an enormous rectangle with a natural stone fireplace at one end. The other end was furnished as a dining room with a solid oak table, chairs and china cabinet while in between were two separate furniture groupings of sofas, upholstered chairs, coffee tables, lamps, etc. The walls were paneled with exposed beam ceilings. She was awed by the size and the opulence.

  Peter was back almost immediately. "Mrs. Webster says lunch will be served in a few minutes. She has everything ready, it only needs warming," he said as he walked toward her.

  He stopped in front of her and reached out for her hand. "Come, I'll show you where the bar is."

  They walked hand in hand into a hall and entered another wide, open doorway to the left into another sitting room, this one smaller and more intimate. It shared the rustic stone fireplace with the living room, but on this side it was smaller, cozier. A large picture window overlooked the ocean and the furniture was less formal, more inviting. Gina loved it on sight and Peter told her it was called the family room.

  He walked to the bar and poured them each a Scotch and soda. She accepted her drink and sat down on the burgundy velour sofa facing the unlit fireplace. He followed and sat down beside her as she turned to him and asked, "Peter, how did you find this house? Surely you didn't have it built?"

  He took a swallow of his whiskey before he answered. "No, I didn't build it, but it's only a couple of years old. The man who built it was an actor who had the lead in a brand new television series. Unfortunately it was cancelled after the first year and he hasn't worked steady since. He couldn't meet the mortgage payments so he put it on the market. I was looking for a place to buy up here so—"

  "Why?" asked Gina.

  Peter quirked one dark brown eyebrow. "Why? You know why. Because I knew I'd never entice you into leaving that gallery of yours and moving back to San Francisco. This way you're only a fifteen-minute drive from Mendocino and I can move my base of operations up here. I'll have to spend some time in San Francisco but—"

  "Peter, stop that! I told you—"

  He leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth, effectively cutting off her indignant tirade.

  Margaret Webster was a middle-aged woman with bright hazel eyes and a warm smile. She was medium height with a matronly figure and long brown hair streaked with gray which she wore braided and wrapped around her head. Peter introduced Gina as his wife and if Mrs. Webster was surprised she didn't show it.

  Lunch was served on the deck overlooking the beach and the ocean. The sun had come out and since they were situated in a hollow the breeze went right over them and it was warm and pleasant in the fresh sea air. They ate chunky homemade vegetable soup, shrimp salad and hot yeast rolls to the accompaniment of the swishing sound of waves rolling gently onto the sand.

  Gina pushed her empty salad plate away and sighed with contentment. "Margaret Webster is a jewel of a cook," she told Peter. "Don't ever let her get away from you."

  Peter leaned back in his chair and grinned lazily. "No chance of that. The pay and working conditions are too good."

  He frowned as she stood and started stacking the dirty dishes. "There's no need for you to do that," he insisted. "Mrs. Webster's working conditions are good but not that good. She is expected to clear off the table after meals."

  Gina laughed as she picked up a tray from the serving counter and began putting the dishes on it. "You may be used to being waited on, but I'm not. There's no reason for her to come out here to get these when I can just as well take them in."

  She picked up the tray and walked inside with it, leaving Peter sputtering behind her.

  Mrs. Webster was as indignant as Peter at the idea of Gina bringing the dirty dishes into the kitchen. "It's my job, ma'am, there's no need for you to trouble yourself," she scolded gently.

  Gina thanked her for the delicious meal and asked directions to the bathroom where she combed her hair and repaired her lipstick before rejoining Peter on the deck.

  He had moved from his seat at the table and was sprawled out on one of the wide redwood loungers that was padded with thick foam rubber covered in heavy apple green toweling.

  He watched her as she walked across the living room and out the sliding glass door, closing it behind her. He looked relaxed and content, and she almost expected to hear him purr. Instead he held out his hand to her. "Come here," he invited.

  She eyed him warily. "What do you want?"

  He patted the space beside him. "I want you to sit with me."

  She stood where she was. "There isn't room."

  "Of course there is," he said. "Come on, I'm not going to bite you, tempting though the thought is."

  He looked so appealing, almost boyish, pleading with those incredibly blue eyes. Why didn't she have the good sense to stay away from him? she wondered as she moved slowly in the direction of the lounger. There were plenty of chairs; the smart thing to do would be to change direction and sit in one out of touching distance from him, but she didn't. She continued in a straight course until she was standing beside him.

  Again he patted the narrow space next to him and reluctantly she sat down as he reclined beside her. He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, then turned it over and licked the palm, sending shivers through her in all directions. She tried to pull away, but he moved it to his smooth cheek and rubbed the back of it gently against him in a caressing movement.

  He was behaving like a child starved for affection and without being conscious of willing it her hand began to move on its own. She stroked upward to his brow and smoothe
d back an errant lock of golden hair. It was springy, alive under her fingertips, and she threaded her fingers through it, carefully massaging his head as she explored the back and sides of it.

  She wasn't aware of his arms around her until she felt herself being guided downward and she twisted around so that she could stretch out beside him. He held her securely but without pressure against the length of him and she had no wish to resist, instead she relaxed with her head on his shoulder.

  They lay quietly for a while and listened to the whisper of the breeze in the trees and the lapping of the surf on the shore. Finally Gina broke the silence. "This is the most incredible place. You enter the house from the forest and exit onto the beach."

  "Do you like it?" Peter asked lazily.

  "It's straight out of a dream," she answered. "The type of home women long for but never expect to have."

  "Will you live here with me?"

  She found that it took all of her resolve to answer that question with a whispered, "no," instead of the insistent yes that hovered on her tongue.

  He sighed and lowered his head to kiss the top of hers. "If I agree to live with you as brother and sister, to give you your own room with a key to lock it against me, will you stay?"

  Gina tilted her head back and looked up at him in amazement. "That's ridiculous!" she yipped. "We'd be in bed together before the first night was over and you know it."

  He chuckled. "I'm afraid you're right, but my intentions were honest."

  She settled her head back on his shoulder and put her arms around his waist. He cradled her lovingly but made no attempt to kindle the desire that burst into flame so easily between them. She was surprised by his restraint, but she realized that it was probably a self-protective measure. He was very male and programmed to be easily and urgently aroused. It must have been even more agonizing for him to be stopped abruptly at the last moment than it was for her.

  That thought took her back to his offer to live with her without sex. Why did he propose that? She knew it wasn't done capriciously or to tease. He'd been serious, but why? He wanted her, that much was obvious. He'd always wanted her, even enough to marry her against all the opposition, the difference in their backgrounds, and his own good sense. Now after a separation of seven years he still wanted her, but this time he'd made no pretense of being in love with her. He didn't care about her, he'd told her that only a few hours ago, and still he offered to leave her untouched if that's what it took to get her to live with him.

  It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense anymore. Here she was curled up in an intimate embrace with a man she was supposed to hate and her only regret was that she couldn't lie like this with him forever.

  His hold on her had relaxed slightly and his heart beat in a strong steady rhythm beneath her ear. He was asleep. She turned her head carefully and kissed the hollow at the base of his throat then wiggled into a more comfortable position against him. He grunted contentedly and she closed her eyes and let the lullaby of the ocean rock her to sleep.

  At first she was only aware of the tingle that caused the muscles in the pit of her stomach to tighten, but as she struggled upward through the warm drowsiness she felt the hand stroking her bare breast and the lips that were nuzzling the sensitive side of her neck. Her own hand moved against a rough material that felt like fine spun wool which encased a solid substance that twitched under her touch.

  Gina opened her eyes and gazed into Peter's deep blue ones, smoky now with passion. She blinked and looked down at where her hand rested just below his hip on the outside of his thigh. The material she felt was his gray slacks, and under them the muscles of his thigh were definitely twitching.

  She removed her hand, confused and embarrassed, but he left off fondling her breast to put her hand back to its original position. "Leave it there," he said. "I like it."

  She liked it too, and she liked it even more when he returned his attention to the rapidly hardening nipple on the firm white mound he'd been caressing. She realized that he'd unbuttoned her blouse and unfastened the front clasp on her mauve satin bra. For a moment she was sorry. It meant that they could no longer lie quietly in each other's arms. That soon, very soon, she'd have to stop him and experience the pain of unfulfillment all over again.

  He dipped his head and taunted her breast with his lips before taking the dark, throbbing tip in his mouth. The tingle in her stomach had spread down her legs and unconsciously her fingers began to knead his thigh. He moaned with pleasure and moved his leg over both of hers as he pushed on her hips bringing her against him in such a way that she was shatteringly aware of his urgent need for her.

  "Gina. Oh Gina," he murmured huskily. "I want you so badly." His hand went to the zipper on her purple corduroys. "I didn't mean for this to happen, but I made the mistake of going to sleep, letting down my defenses. When I woke up and found you in my arms I—I couldn't help it."

  He unzipped her zipper and slipped his hand under her slacks to rest on her quivering stomach. His breathing was ragged as he sought and found her eagerly parted lips. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer as her tongue met his. Her trembling body was on fire and she had no thought of stopping him. She couldn't if she wanted to and she didn't want to.

  He rolled over until his body nearly covered hers and she welcomed him with her mouth, and her hands and her whispered words of wanting. They were both so overpowered by the sensations that flowed between them that they were aware of nothing but the throbbing urgency of their terrible need to be one in body as well as soul.

  It wasn't surprising that they didn't hear the commotion inside the house or the heavy glass door being slid open. It wasn't until two childish voices yelling "Uncle Peter, Uncle Peter, surprise!" burst through the haze of passion that they came to the appalling realization that they were no longer alone.

  Gina and Peter tore themselves apart and Gina, who had her back to the house, looked over her shoulder to see Johnny and Sonja being held back by their mother, Peter's sister Lillian. Behind them were an older but still recognizable Hans and Bertha Van Housen: Peter's parents, who stood rigid, their faces a study of shock and embarrassment.

  Chapter Nine

  Gina's entire body burned with guilt and humiliation and she instinctively turned again toward Peter and buried her face in his sweater-clad chest as she held her gaping blouse together with shaking hands. Oh dear Lord, how could she have been so wanton as to let Peter practically undress her right here in the open in broad daylight? And the position they'd been in! It must have looked obscene, and to think that the children…

  Peter swore and held her close, stroking his fingers through her hair in a comforting gesture as he barked grimly, "What are you doing here?"

  Gina recognized Lilly's voice although it had lost its usual confident timbre. "Pete, I'm sorry. Mom and Dad wanted to see the house. We had no idea—look, we'll wait for you in the library."

  Gina heard the children protest as Lilly ordered them into the house immediately, along with the sound of scuffling feet before the glass door slid closed. She was shivering uncontrollably, not from cold but from shattered nerves. Peter's arms tightened about her and he spoke forcefully. "Gina, it's all right. We've done nothing wrong. We're married and we're in our own home. We have a perfect right to make love anywhere we want to on our own property."

  "I want to die!" Her voice was jerky and somewhat muffled in his chest.

  He nuzzled her temple. "Don't talk like that," he said harshly. "They had no right to come bursting in that way. I didn't invite them here. Come now, pull yourself together and we'll go in and see what they want."

  "No!" It was more a scream than a statement. "I couldn't face them! I don't ever want to see them again. Take me home, Peter. Oh please, take me home."

  He gripped her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Stop that, sweetheart, I'm not going to take you anywhere. You are home, and as soon as we get you all buttoned and snapped back up we're going to go in the
re and establish that fact once and for all."

  He pulled the front ends of her bra together and fastened them, then started buttoning her blouse. She made no move to help but sat shaking her head from side to side. "No, Peter, there's no reason for me to face your family. They never did like me, and now they have even more reason not to. They must think I'm no better than a streetwalker!"

  He clapped his hand across her mouth and now he was really angry. "That's enough! I'll not tolerate that kind of talk."

  He removed his hand and started tucking her blouse under her opened slacks. "If you don't like the way my parents treat you then do something about it," he advised her. "Tell them to either shape up or get out."

  Gina stared at him uncomprehendingly. "But—but they're your family."

  He shook his head. "You're my family, and this is your house. You don't have to put up with anything in it that you don't want to." He grinned teasingly. "Except from me, of course."

  The teasing smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. "I'm serious, Gina," he said. "Seven years ago you were too young and immature to stand up to Dad and Mother and I tried to protect you, but now you're a full-grown woman, and a feisty one. You can and do fight your own battles. I should know, I've got the scars to prove it. Now, we're going in there and confront them and if they give you any trouble light in to them the way you do to me. I guarantee they'll back down."

  She brushed his hands away from their fumbling attempts to close the zipper on her slacks and fastened it herself. "Why should they do that? You never do," she questioned.

  He kissed her on the tip of her nose. "Oh, but I do, love. You slash me to ribbons every time we get together, but I keep coming back for more." He frowned, "I can't think what's wrong with me. No one has ever treated me the way you do and been given a second chance."

  Gina was still cradled full length against Peter in a protective embrace, but she was calmer now. Her hands trembled but she wasn't shaking as violently as she had been. For a moment she was tempted to do as Peter asked, march in the house and tell his parents and sister that they could either accept her on her own terms or leave. It was a huge temptation. Hans and Bertha Van Housen had considered her so totally unacceptable for their youngest son that they hadn't even taken her seriously until Peter announced that he was going to marry her. After that they'd tried every way they could to break it up, and she knew they'd been delighted when their appraisal of her was apparently vindicated and Peter left her without even consummating the marriage.