“No, I’m not. I haven’t done a thing to you that someone else hasn’t already. I’ve seen you before on your front porch, late at night, with your father sound asleep in his room.” She bent her head jerkily and pressed a hand against her mouth, flushing hot and dark. Who had he seen her with? Who had he watched kiss her, touch her hair? His low tone was intense, biting. “No, I’m not scaring you, you’re scaring yourself. What are you feeling, Rob? What’s going through your mind right now? What’s frightening you?”
Her head jerked to one side. “Don’t dig at me,” she hissed. “Now for God’s sake, let me go! I’m not going to discuss anything with you here, of all places!”
His intent expression eased slowly, and he shook himself as if he had just remembered where he was. “Okay,” he said mildly, and his hold on her loosened so that she could wriggle away. He stepped back. “We can always talk later.”
But she wasn’t ready to think about that, as her face burned hot from both the sun’s rays and her own inner reaction, and without replying she ducked underwater to swim away swiftly. Jason gave her time to get her composure back, and she swam a strenuous three or four laps so that she could avoid conversation with anyone else. When she was ready to climb out, he was there to give her a helping hand, his long fingers closing over hers, his shoulder and arm muscles flexing as he took her weight in one quick heave up.
They walked over to where she had left her clothes, his a tidy pile close by, and while she drew her tank top over her wet bikini and left her shorts, until she was more or less dry, Jason did the exact opposite, sliding his black shorts over his brief, skin-tight swimming trunks while piling his shirt and sandals with her things. She scrupulously avoided getting too near him, which he noted with a wry twist of his mouth.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, tilting his wet head down to her in enquiry.
She took a deep breath and unconsciously held it while she glanced over at the laden tables of food. “I’m starved,” she confessed, and so they went to get something to eat.
After piling their paper plates high with hamburgers and finger foods, they went back to where they had left their clothes and shoes, and settled on the grass. Jason made a second trip for a can of beer for himself and a soft drink for her. Then they munched in a strangely companionable silence, considering recent events, and Robbie stole several quick, furtive glances at his profile as he basked indolently in the sun. She didn’t think he was aware of her scrutiny; for he gave no sign otherwise as he commented from time to time on the various antics of several children who dashed in and out of the different, fluctuating knots of people and generally acted as though they hadn’t a lick of sense among the lot of them.
Then he said, very quietly, without looking at her, “Am I so very different from who you thought I was that you don’t know me anymore?”
Her hand jerked as she reached for her canned drink and the can fell over in the grass, the cola bubbling out until she snatched it up again quickly. She ducked her head, for he had turned to stare at her, his eyes oddly darkened. His hair was beginning to dry, the lock that fell on his forehead a lighter golden-brown than the back of his head, which was still wet and slicked down. “Did I ever know you?”
He held still and then after a moment said heavily, “I thought you did. Maybe I was wrong.” Her eyes shot up sharply. His own head was turned to one side, his expression tired and discouraged.
Her heart went out to him and that odd, lonely look of his. “You’ve become so complex,” she whispered and reached out to touch his bare knee. His gaze shifted slowly and he stared at her hand until she drew it back, self-consciously. “I think there’s a lot more I could learn about you.”
A smile creased his features then, the slowest, sweetest smile she had ever seen from him, and she thought she could never look at his countenance enough just then. Even after she rose to get herself more chips, which were her eternal weakness, and after his smile had faded, a quiet, subtle look of pleasure remained on Jason’s face for a long time.
The late afternoon faded to early evening. Though Robbie and Jason were among the younger of the couples present at the party, their air of self-possession and quiet maturity had several older employees from the restaurant gravitating towards them, along with John and Marilyn. The group discussed many topics while watching their respective children with wearily jaundiced eyes, some sitting in lawn chairs, others sprawled in the grass like Robbie and Jason.
She noticed that Casey avoided the group and would not meet her eyes, for which she was thankful. Though she had known better, the other girl hadn’t, and had tried to attract Jason’s attention while under the impression that he was romantically involved with her. She didn’t care for that kind of behavior and she was unsure of her ability to hide her distaste for the brunette in the future. Sexual promiscuity was one thing, but when hurting an innocent victim became a possibility, it was no longer a question of morality, but one of ethics.
After a time, Marilyn wiggled out from under her husband’s heavy arm and came to sit next to Robbie in the grass. For someone who had just turned thirty, the other woman looked remarkably young, with blonde hair falling in her sea-green eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across her pert, small nose. She blew up with her lower lip stuck out and sent a wayward lock of hair floating up. It came right back down again into her eyes, and she sighed in disgust while Robbie grinned.
“So, tell me all!” Marilyn said, settling back in the grass as though intending to have a long chat. “Where and when and how did you two meet? Have you known each other long?”
Robbie was never so thankful that she tanned as darkly as she did when she felt a wave of warmth rising stealthily, insidiously up her neck. “We’re neighbors,” she replied nonchalantly.
“Well, that doesn’t tell me much,” complained the blonde, who then shifted her gaze to Jason with pleasure. He was leaning back on his elbow, one leg stretched out flat, the other propped up, and he smiled lazily at the other woman while Robbie looked anywhere but at the two sitting so close to her.
“We’ve known each other for about twelve years, now,” Jason told Marilyn, who sighed dramatically while glancing back with dancing eyes to Robbie.
“So you two are childhood sweethearts? Oh, I think that’s so darling!” A dark scowl began to form between Robbie’s brows like a thundercloud, and it grew more ominous as Marilyn continued teasingly, “Why, I can’t think why you haven’t told us all about Jason before this, honey! To think she’s been keeping someone as luscious as you a secret all this time!”
With an understandably wary look to her, which she didn’t catch, Jason replied carefully, “It hasn’t exactly worked out like that, Marilyn, so perhaps that’s why Rob hasn’t mentioned me before. I find that she is surprisingly reticent about all sorts of things.”
She threw him a dark, unfathomable look from under straight brows, which he returned blandly enough. But though Marilyn continued to stare at her interestedly and Jason fell suddenly, unbudgingly silent, she didn’t say a thing, and soon the blonde left to check on her two children.
They stayed until after sunset, Robbie going to Jason’s car to retrieve her bulky bag so that she could change into her skirt while he slipped on his shirt, and at seven o’clock the two picnic tables were cleared only to be reset with new, different food dishes. There was a succulent fruit salad served in two boat-like sides of watermelon rinds, along with several trays of hors d’oeuvres, a huge platter of cold barbecued chicken legs, and several different kinds of cheeses set out with an assortment of fancy crackers.
Marilyn opened her gifts a little later on amidst a smaller cluster of people who emitted loud bouts of laughter at some of the humorous items she received. Her mother, a huge, sunny woman with a laugh that boomed out over everyone’s except John’s, had given her a frothy, provocative nightgown which would, when worn, leave little to the imagination. John was obviously delighted while Marilyn buried her reddening face into the materia
l like a bashful bride at the uproarious approval that the gift brought.
Jason had his arm casually around Robbie’s shoulders, and then he leaned close to whisper into her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin, “Do they throw such extravagant parties each time there’s a birthday in the family?”
She settled herself closer against him, fully aware of his body warmth through her thin clothing as she turned to whisper back quietly, “I don’t think so. Marilyn confessed to me that as she was having a rather hard time facing her thirtieth birthday, she decided to meet the fact with gusto rather than shrink from something she couldn’t change. I think the party was a lovely idea.”
His hand tightened briefly on her shoulder as he replied softly, “I do, too. Certain things in life are irrefutable, and it’s best to face them squarely. Trying to avoid them simply doesn’t work.”
She turned her head to look at him questioningly, but he was watching Marilyn open her last gift, and there was absolutely nothing to be read in his expression.
Soon after the gifts were opened, several people began to leave, though there would soon be a new wave of arrivals when the restaurant closed. The party, Robbie guessed, would go on until close to dawn. After a quick, low word to her, Jason rose to approach John, and the two men talked for a few minutes. She wandered over to the pool, which was practically deserted, even though it was still warm from the sun’s heat. She bent and dabbled her hand in the water idly, sending small rippling waves out and watching them reflect the outside lights, dark blue depth and sparkling white. Her short braid fell over one shoulder, still wet from swimming that afternoon, and she knew that when she let it out, she would have curls until she washed her hair.
Behind her, Jason approached with slowing footsteps until he was just behind her, watching her bent figure. She had her body folded into a surprisingly compact package, one slim, dark arm wrapped around her knees as she crouched, her sleek head bent. The position was not unlike many he had seen her in before, years ago, when tracing childish patterns in the dirt, with her nose peeling from sunburn and her skinny legs scratched and bruised. In his memory, she had always been sporting some new scrape on her knees, but it never slowed her up. Not once had she backed down from a dare because she had been afraid.
And now time and maturity had fashioned those same, long legs into sleek, curving, feminine grace, with high, delicate arches to her slim feet and trim, shapely ankles. Her bone structure had always been slight, prompting him to a protective urge before he even knew he had one.
“Ready to go?” His voice came quietly behind her, and she rose quickly and turned, holding out her hand to shake it dry.
“Did you tell John good night for me?” she asked, looking over at the hosting couple who were, as usual, surrounded by people.
“Yes, and he doesn’t want you to leave without seeing him first,” said Jason with a slight smile. She went over immediately to the blond giant who wrapped his arms around her for a tight, enthusiastic hug. John, like Marilyn, was a very affectionate person.
“Come and see us again!” he boomed, shaking Jason’s hand vigorously. “We enjoyed having you! Take care of Robbie, here, she’s just a little ol’ thing!”
For some reason, that made Jason laugh merrily, and Robbie scowled at him halfheartedly while they went through the house to the front. He was probably remembering the times when she had been as ready for a fistfight as any boy. As they walked down the quiet, dark street to his car, he once again let his hand rest at the small of her back. This, she reflected scathingly while feeling surprisingly sensitive to the touch, from someone who had once regarded females as anathema. She’d been okay despite the fact that she was a girl.
It was a balmy, clear night, and as they climbed into his sports car, they found the interior still hot, like the pool water, from the heat of the day. Down came the windows, and as Jason drove them home, Robbie let her hair out of the damp braid and ran her fingers through the wavy strands until it blew across her eyes, fluffy and refreshingly cool as it dried.
As they neared their neighborhood, she asked quietly, “Did you enjoy yourself today?”
He was unsmiling, seemingly remote until she spoke, his attention fixed on his driving and his private thoughts, but he flashed her a quick, albeit secretive smile as he replied, “Yes, I did. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” That made her blink. She certainly hadn’t thought the party deserved that sort of praise. They stopped at some traffic lights, and he turned his head to look long and lingeringly at her. His eyes reflected the streetlights, brilliant glassy white and red and green flickering shallowly over the normal gray. “How about you, did you have a good time?”
“At first it was a bit much,” she admitted, turning away to stare out of her window. An incredibly noisy, battered car pulled up beside them, stinking of exhaust fumes, and a greasy, bearded man looked over at her, grinning. She glanced away quickly. “There were so many people! I wonder how she got to know them all? But it was nice, and Marilyn was happy we came. She liked you.”
“That,” he stated with some dryness, “was made abundantly clear. To be honest, though, I think she was prepared to like anyone you brought.”
After a moment, she said with a studied indifference, “She wasn’t the only one who liked you.” As his head shot around and he stared at her, wearing a queer expression, she could have kicked herself for saying such a thing. She didn’t want him to think she was, jealous. Nothing was further from the truth.
An impatient car horn sounded behind them, and Jason’s attention snapped back belatedly to the changed light and his driving. “Casey was certainly a very attractive woman,” he said cheerfully. She clenched her hand and heard a very faint sound. With a terrible shock, she realized that she was grinding her teeth. “But,” he continued, and this was with great emphasis, “she came on strong enough to send me screaming in the other direction.”
Robbie relaxed and then had to laugh. “You know what she does with another waitress, whom you haven’t met yet?” she said suddenly. “On the nights they work together, they watch the men who come into the restaurant and make bets on each one’s occupation and yearly income. They also rate each for looks on a scale from one to ten. It’s surprising how many they end up dating.”
“Good God!” he expostulated with horror. “And you were callous enough to leave me alone with her?”
“As I recall, you were the one to leave, sweetheart, not I.”
“Well, it wasn’t as if you minded.” He sent her a look, which she didn’t see. “You sounded disgustingly keen for me to go.”
“Oh, sure, what else could I have said?” she retorted exasperatedly. “I have to work with the girl—should I have been rude over something as stupidly unimportant?”
“Ouch!” He pulled into their side street and parked his car smoothly in his parents’ driveway, turning to regard her with a smile. “I believe I’ve just had my hand slapped sharply. Next time I’ll know better.”
She opened her car door and climbed out while she tossed back, “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”
He climbed out also and slammed his door shut without replying to that last retort. She walked around the front end of his car and started towards her own house, which was dark. Her father would be in bed, as the time was nearing midnight, and he rose early to go to church. In fact, as she looked around, the entire cul-de-sac seemed secluded and dark, and Jason was walking towards her. Her hands began to shake.
“Whoa, hold up,” he said quietly, putting his arm firmly around her shoulders as he caught up with her.
“Thanks for taking me,” she said nervously, trying to pull away. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but you really don’t have to see me to the front door.”
“Nonsense,” he said, with a shadowy, unreadable look. He kept a tight hold on her while determinedly walking with her across the lawn. “Remember, we’re pretending this is a real date.”
The last “pr
etence” had nearly shattered her composure. Her heart began to pound. “Come on, Jason,” she said desperately. “Don’t be so silly. I’ll see you later, good night.”
He stopped abruptly and drew her around, both hands heavy on her slim shoulders, compelling her to face him. “All right,” he said very low and fast, and the words throbbed. “Let’s drop the pretence, shall we? Let’s be truthful with each other. Let’s tell each other what we feel, Rob. Are you ready for that?”
He made her feel so strange. He made her feel shaken by acting so oddly, so aggressively, so full of a tension she could dimly sense but couldn’t understand. His hands on her body. The hot memory of his mouth on hers. The trembling he caused in her. She couldn’t tell him what he was making her feel. She didn’t understand it herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
“That’s one of the few times you’ve ever lied to me.” His hand left her shoulder and slowly, deliberately tangled in her wildly blown hair. He drew her near with a gentle, inexorable insistence and started to bend his head down. She tried to turn her head away, but was caught, caught by his hands and his body, his lips slanting hard and rough over hers, caught by the shaking in her limbs and her own response.
She felt the faint rasp of his beard, the hard band of his arm crossing the back of her waist, his wet, warm mouth open and eagerly plunging, the shocking sensation of weakness at the back of her knees. Her hands curled into his shirt. His body heat seared her. His heart was racing against hers much too fast. His hand came around her waist, slid under her tank top, and cupped her breast.
Her head fell back. She made a sound, low and hoarse, at the back of her throat. His mouth left hers and slid down, open, tongue licking at her neck. It left a trail of first hot, then cold fire as the breeze brushed them both, and tangled her skirt in his legs. He slid his hard fingers under her swimsuit top and touched her nipple, his body taut.
It was too much. He pushed too fast; she was too shocked, not only by her own involuntary response, but also by his. She whimpered, feeling the beginning, strange ache in her loins and his own surging desire, and she tore out of his hold to put her back to him. There was a pulse beat of silence. She ran shaking hands through her hair.
Waking Up Page 8