If Ever I Loved You

by Phyllis Halldorson

  He was the perfect nurse, cool, efficient and cheerful but uninvolved on a personal level. Gina blinked back tears as she remembered sharing this lounger with Peter, the sweetness of their early caresses and later the fire of their shared passion. If only they hadn't been interrupted. She had been past the point of resistance; she would have given herself to him gladly and with love. At least then she would have known exactly how he felt about her, one way or the other, and could have planned her future accordingly.

  That evening they had dinner in the dining room. Afterward Peter carried her back up to his bedroom and again left her with a light goodnight kiss and walked down the hall to another bed.

  The following day was more of the same, and by evening Gina was a bundle of screaming nerve ends. The inactivity was bad enough, but Peter's cheerful brotherly attitude was driving her right up the wall. She had to get out of there! She had a lot of bruises but her head no longer hurt and she was able to walk with a limp but at least she could get around.

  They had dinner in the family room in front of a cheerful fire in the rustic stone fireplace, sitting together on the couch and eating from lap trays. Gina was so aware of Peter's nearness that she hardly tasted the spaghetti with white clam sauce, the tossed fresh spinach and bacon salad, hot buttered french bread and wine.

  When they had finished eating Peter carried their trays to the kitchen and brought back a silver coffee service. Gina's hand shook with nervousness as she poured the coffee. She'd made up her mind to confront Peter about leaving and couldn't put it off any longer.

  She handed him a cup but left hers sitting on the table as she said, "I—I'm getting around quite well now, Peter, and I'm anxious to get back to the shop."

  He looked at her and smiled. "It's still too early, give it a few more days. If you're worried about your business I can have one of our people at the gallery in San Francisco come up for a week or so and take over."

  She shook her head. "No, you don't understand. I can't stand this inactivity. I need to get back to work. I want to go home."

  She knew by his expression that he wasn't going to agree. The smile was gone, the shuttered look back on his face. "You are home, Gina," he said as he set his cup beside hers.

  She clutched her hands together in her lap to still their trembling. "No, Peter," she said, "I'm not. I appreciate your wanting to share this beautiful place with me but I can't stay here. I'm going back to Mendocino."

  He looked at her without expression and his voice was cold. "You don't have any intention of trying to make this marriage work, do you." It wasn't a question but a statement.

  She looked away, unable to hold his unwavering gaze. "No, I don't," she said in a voice that quivered with emotion. "Our marriage died seven years ago, let it rest in peace."

  "I'd be happy to," he said grimly, "but unfortunately it's not that simple. I've found no peace in these intervening years and I don't think you have either. What do you want from me, Gina? It seems to me that if I'm willing to forgive and try to forget you certainly should be."

  There it was again, his absolute certainty that she had lied, cheated and tricked him into marriage. He was implacable on that issue; she was the sinner and he had been sinned against. It was true, he had been sinned against, but not by her!

  She closed her eyes against the pain and forced her voice to remain steady as she said, "Why do you refuse to understand, Peter? I've told you so often. When I was eighteen I gave you all that I had to give—my love. I figuratively laid my heart at your feet and you trampled on it. When you walked out on me without trying to understand my side of the story I wanted to die."

  Peter caught his breath but she continued. "No please, don't interrupt. I waited for you to come back, even if it was to ask for an annulment, but you sent your lawyer instead with threats of retribution if I tried to get any money from you." She grimaced. "That's all the breakup of our brief marriage meant to you, the amount of money it would cost to get rid of me."

  "No, Gina—" Peter gasped, but she wasn't listening.

  "The newspaper columnists had a field day. For weeks there was public speculation over why the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco had walked out on his bride only hours after the wedding. The reporters hounded me constantly. I couldn't even go out of the house without being accosted by photographers and newspeople."

  She shuddered. "I was left completely at their mercy and I had no idea how to handle it. I was both frightened and mortified, and not once did a member of the Van Housen family try to protect me. You disappeared and your parents and brothers were unavailable in their impenetrable mansion in the Sea Cliff district. My family and I were thrown to that pack of wolves and left to survive as best we could."

  She looked squarely at Peter then and let the hostility blaze from her eyes. "We survived by uprooting our lives and moving three thousand miles across the country and now you have the gall to accuse me of running away! You ran out when I needed you, Peter, and I managed to put my life back together and live without you. Now all I want from you is the same thing I've asked you for over and over, my freedom. I don't want your house, or your money, or your influence, I just want to have this farce of a marriage dissolved so I can get on with my life."

  She raised her head to look at him and was surprised to find a grimace of such utter desolation on his face that she unwittingly uttered a little cry and held out her hand, but before she could touch him the cold, hard look had returned and she decided she'd only imagined the other. She was sure of it a few seconds later when he got up and walked to the fireplace where he stood with his back to her looking into the flames.

  He jammed his hands into the pockets of his gray flannel slacks. "All right, Gina," he said with icy deliberation. "I'll give you your freedom."

  She gasped, but it sounded more like a sob. Before she could say anything, however, he continued, "I'll agree to a dissolution on one condition, that you spend one night making love with me."

  She stared at his back, stunned. It wasn't possible that she'd heard what she thought she had. Even Peter wouldn't make a demand like that!

  But she knew that he would. If he wanted something badly enough Peter Van Housen would use any means to get it, and he knew her weakness for him. Well, this time he had gone too far. She had no intentions of submitting to blackmail!

  She stood and was appalled to find that her knees were shaking. "Well thanks but no thanks," she said with what she hoped was the proper amount of sarcasm. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go pack."

  She started to limp toward the door but he swung around and caught her, pulling her roughly into his arms. "Now Gina!" he muttered as his lips pressed tingling little kisses from her temple to her ear. "Tonight! I've been behaving like an inexperienced teenager letting you torment me, but no more. You've run out of time, love, and now you're going to pay up."

  He nuzzled the sensitive hollow at the side of her throat and set her pulse to pounding.

  She tried to pull away but his arms tightened and his hand found its way under her pull-over knit blouse and cupped one of her lace-covered breasts. A wave of heat surged through her leaving a thin film of moisture on her skin and she knew if she didn't do something quickly she'd be lost. She struggled but was no match for his strength.

  Maybe she could reason with him. She stopped fighting and he unfastened her bra and gently massaged her nipple, bringing it to a throbbing peak. "Peter," she begged. "Don't. Oh please don't do this to me! Surely you don't intend to force me when you know I'm unwilling!"

  Somehow, without her realizing it, he had managed to unfasten the button on her white slacks and his hand dipped under the waistband and stroked the bare small of her back. "I wouldn't dream of forcing you," he murmured against her ear. "It won't be necessary. You want this almost as much as I do. Even as you say you're unwilling, you respond to me, you always have."

  His hand moved lower and he made little circular motions against the swell of her buttocks. He was right! She arche
d against him without ever willing it. Her traitorous body was on fire with desire for him and when he swung her into his arms and headed for the stairway she clasped her arms around his neck and buried her flaming face in his shoulder.

  In the beautiful blue master bedroom he stood her beside the huge bed and started to remove her blouse. With a last effort at self-preservation she folded her arms across her chest and shook her head from side to side. "No, no, please no."

  He didn't argue but kissed her tenderly and started removing her slacks instead. She gave in then and let him undress her. He lowered her to the bed, then undressed himself and slid in beside her. She shivered with need as he drew her naked body against his own and sought her moist trembling lips.

  Gina made one last effort to resist by clenching her teeth and refusing to return the kiss. She could feel the tightly leashed tension in him as he moved against her and moaned, "Don't fight me, sweetheart. I don't want to be rough, but I'm rapidly losing control. Please Gina, let me love you."

  She slid her arms around him then and opened her mouth to his plundering tongue as they both ignited in flame. He seemed to know exactly where to touch and caress her to bring her to the edge of madness and she wasn't prepared for the sharp searing pain that accompanied his total possession. She stiffened and for a moment neither of them moved as they lay suspended on the brink of ecstasy.

  Gina opened her eyes and saw Peter's face above her, frozen with surprise. For a second she was afraid he was going to withdraw and her arms tightened around him as his voice, raw with anguish, sounded against her ear. "Oh my lovely Gina!"

  It was a cry of pain, not of the flesh but of the spirit. Then with infinite tenderness he began once more the rhythm of passion, bringing her slowly, carefully, to the radiant joy of shared release that bonded them together and made them one.

  Afterward he held her, gentled her, until her breathing stabilized and she returned slowly to the real world. Then he rolled away from her and sat on the side of the bed with his back to her, his shoulders slumped and his hands hanging loosely between his knees. It was then that she knew she had been wrong. Their union hadn't bonded them together, but had wrenched them even further apart. Peter knew now beyond any doubt that she had never made love with Mel Calicutt or any other man, but the knowledge had come too late. It no longer made any difference to him. The wonder had all been on her part: for him the experience had been a disappointment.

  She was still too vulnerable to control her emotions and tears welled in her eyes and ran down her face as she put out her hand and touched his bare hip. "Peter?" she whispered.

  He didn't turn to look at her and his voice was flat as he said, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Gina. I—I didn't know… I should have stopped but I couldn't… I just couldn't."

  He rubbed his hands over his face then stood and began dressing quickly. Gina wanted to tell him that the pain in her body had been minor, but the pain in her soul was so great that all she could do was sob and bury her face in her pillow.

  She felt his hand stroking her hair. "I'm sorry. I can't possibly tell you how sorry," he said in that wooden tone and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. A few minutes later she heard the powerful engine of the Jaguar roar to life and tear off into the night.

  Gina shuddered convulsively and chastised herself for being such a baby. Grown up women don't cry, she told herself fiercely as she sat up and swung her feet to the floor. Grown women meet life head on and take their lumps. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose. The only trouble is you can get an awfully lumpy head that way! She stood and started toward the bathroom.

  The needles of hot pulsating water from the shower stung her creamy skin, but had the desired effect of making her feel alive again and ready to fight the depression that had threatened to overwhelm her. She'd let Peter do that to her once and it had taken her years to feel like a woman again. This time she'd suspected that he would walk out once he'd had his fill of her but she hadn't expected it to come so soon. What had gone wrong? She'd achieved a mind-blowing ecstasy, why hadn't he?

  Gina had been prepared for the anguish Peter's departure would bring. She'd been through that before, but what she hadn't expected was the blow it had been to her ego. She'd never doubted but that he would find as much fulfillment in their love-making as she would and it was shattering to her very womanhood to know that she was so lacking in ability to please him.

  Maybe if she'd been more experienced; if she hadn't clung to her virginity all these years; if she'd gone to bed with some of the men who had been so anxious to take her, then she would have learned the more sophisticated ways to make the act memorable.

  She turned off the water and reached for a soft fluffy towel. "Stop it, Gina!" she said aloud as she dried herself vigorously. She hadn't been "saving" her virginity, she was simply incapable of engaging in indiscriminate love affairs and if that made her too inexpert for Peter's taste, then so be it.

  She wasn't going to wallow in self-pity. She had a business to run. It wouldn't take the place of the husband and children she wanted but it was a living, a challenge, and hopefully a device to keep her sane.

  A glance at her wristwatch told her that it was ten o'clock but she knew better than to try to sleep. It was going to be a long night and she wasn't going to spend it tossing and turning in bed, tearing herself apart thinking of Peter. She dressed in blue jeans and a pink velour long-sleeved blouse to ward off the damp night chill and used the blow dryer to style and dry her hair.

  She was just finishing with her hair when the doorbell rang. Who on earth could that be at this hour? she thought as she limped out of her room and down the stairs. She knew the door would be answered by one of the Websters but she felt a shiver of apprehension. It couldn't be Peter; he had his own key and wouldn't ring for admittance. But who else would come to this secluded place at such a late hour?

  She heard Bud Webster's voice as she hurried down the hall and when she got to the entryway she saw that he was speaking to someone through the closed oak door, reluctant to open it at this hour. "Who is it, Mr. Webster?" she asked.

  "It's a lady, ma'am, says her name is Twyla Sisson."

  "Twyla!" Gina cried as she rushed to the door and unlocked it. "Twyla," she said again as she hugged the large woman who stepped through the open doorway.

  Twyla was dressed in black slacks and a matching fleece-lined parka and she returned Gina's hug as she said, "Peter called and asked me to come. He said you needed me. What has that chauvinist pig done to you now?"

  Gina laughed because it was either that or cry and she was determined not to shed any more tears. "Oh Twyla, what did I ever do to deserve a friend like you? Come in. Here, let me take your jacket."

  Twyla shrugged out of her parka and handed it to Gina. Underneath she wore a red- and gray-striped sweater and she rubbed at her arms as she said, "It's cold out there. The breeze is coming directly off the ocean."

  She walked into the living room while Gina hung her jacket in the coat closet and told Mr. Webster that she wouldn't need either him or his wife anymore that evening. When Gina joined Twyla her friend was standing in the middle of the room gazing around with undisguised appreciation. "I've never seen such a beautiful home," she said in a voice filled with admiration. "It belongs to Peter I assume."

  Gina nodded her affirmative answer. "I'll take you on a tour of the place later, but now come with me to the family room and I'll fix us both a drink."

  Twyla stirred up the dying embers of the fireplace and added a log while Gina poured brandy into two crystal snifters. They sat on the couch with their feet tucked under them and sipped the warm smooth drink for a few minutes before Twyla opened the conversation. "Is Peter here?"

  Gina shook her head. "No, he left about half an hour ago."

  "Did you two quarrel?"

  "Not at all." Gina's voice was bitter. "Tonight he finally melted the last of my resistance and took me to bed. When it was over he got up, dressed,
apologized and left."

  Twyla's brown eyes widened. "Just like that?"

  "Just like that," confirmed Gina. "He was so disappointed by my performance that he didn't even pretend that he'd enjoyed it, he just said he was sorry and walked out."

  Her voice broke but she forced herself to go on. "I—I've been thinking and I've come to the conclusion that this was all part of his revenge for my supposed deception. I believe he planned to seduce me and then deliberately let me know how little I meant to him by doing just what he did."

  I must have thrown him a curve when he found out I was still a virgin, she thought with a touch of vengeful satisfaction. That's probably why he apologized.

  She put her hands over her eyes and stiffened against the pain that washed over her. "Well, I hope he's happy now because his little scheme worked." She curled up in a ball and buried her face in her knees.

  Twyla muttered a curse that questioned Peter's parentage then seemed somewhat doubtful of her diagnosis. "Are you sure, Gina?" she asked. "Maybe you misunderstood his actions. He sounded a little frantic with concern when he called me. He didn't tell me what was wrong, only that you needed me and to please come right away. I dropped everything and came running."

  Gina looked at her friend and appreciation vied with the tears that shimmered in her eyes. "And I thought you were mad at me," she murmured.

  "I was," Twyla shrugged, "but I got over it. In case you're still interested I called Stewart the other day and invited him over for pan-fried chicken and country gravy. We talked and, well, it's going to take him a while to get over you but if I keep plying him with home cooking it might speed up the healing process and, who knows, we may get together yet."