Love Burns

by Babette James

  How fucking true that was.

  “Did he hit you?” Dave growled. He should have pounded R.J. into the sand.

  The tremor that ran through her in the pause before her answer set him on edge.

  “He never raised a hand to me, ever, until that night last summer.”

  Bullshit. With images of the brittle woman he’d met last summer filling his brain, he rolled to his side and propped up on an elbow to look down into her sad eyes. You didn’t get to that level of misery without something wrong going down. He stroked her cheek and fought to speak gently. “Livie, tell the truth. Did he hit you?”

  “No, no. He used words, not fists.” She swallowed hard. “Our marriage was a mess, in and out of bed. He didn’t care that the sex didn’t work for me. He wasn’t…patient in bed. He wanted things—It was always my fault. I didn’t even know what I needed. He was the only man I’d been with and learning from books isn’t much use when your partner doesn’t care. But I was his wife, and I wanted a baby…”

  So you put up with that crap. “Why the hell did you marry him?”

  “My parents introduced us.” Her voice wavered. “They’re old-school and, while they’re loving, they’re not very…prone to public displays of affection. R.J. dazzled me with his attention. I never had a clue that it would go wrong. I wasn’t oblivious to the world—I must seem horribly naive, but my parents raised me to be a good girl, to believe that marriage was forever.”

  He stroked her head. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “Back then, I was so miserable at my job. I couldn’t talk to my parents about it, I didn’t want to disappoint them—they still don’t understand—and then R.J. strode into Mama’s party. He could be so sweet, and when he focuses on you and opens up his charm…Everyone loved him. He reminded me of Daddy, competent, successful, hardworking. Everyone told me he was the man for me. My parents were delighted. I thought he was the man of my dreams saving me from my unhappiness, like some perfect knight in shining armor.”

  Livie hid her face against his chest. Her tense words spilled in a rasping purge. “Only that shining charm and charisma was a glittering shell. I was so love-blind in the beginning, so accustomed to living up to expectations, lying to myself and everyone was easy. What did I have to complain about? I lived like a princess, and I was freed from the job I hated. Too many people have it so much worse. So what if sex was bad—no marriage is perfect. So what if he was abrupt sometimes—he worked hard. So what if he was critical—he had high standards. So what if he was domineering—he was decisive. The hectic social whirl and the challenge of his business entertaining let me pretend I was happy. The reality was I was simply another acquisition. He didn’t want me, Olivia. He wanted Mrs. R.J. Harper, a trophy wife to decorate his arm, an event planner and hostess who couldn’t quit.”

  She dragged in a gasping breath.

  “And what was really crazy? I kept believing he could change. Up to that very last day, I still clung to the hope that somehow I’d finally do something right, and he’d be that man I first met again.” She scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “So that’s the whole sorry story. One stupid girl. One selfish man. One miserable marriage.”

  Dave tipped up her chin to look in her eyes. “Stop. You’re not stupid. He’s the idiot for not cherishing every moment of being with you. Crap happens. The important thing is you got out and you’re moving on with your life in a good direction.”

  “I wasted so many years.”

  “Stop. No more looking back.” He brushed away the stray tear and nipped lightly at her mouth. “Now, I think we’ve thoroughly proved that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.” He caressed her cheek, loving her sexy blush and shy smile. “But I’m very happy to show you all over again in detail just how perfect you really are.”

  He couldn’t fix her past, but he’d happily give her that assurance.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Dave woke in an up mood, more himself than he’d felt in far too long. Even the usual nagging morning aches stayed low-key.

  Nate pushed up from his seat and gathered his breakfast dishes. “Hey, Dave, I’m heading out on a hike for some photos. Want to come along?”

  “Sure.” Dave snapped out his agreement without a glance at Livie as she chatted with the girls. Not that he wanted the space, but space might be wise and hiking with Nate was another stab at normal life.

  Only, prying himself from the seat for a hike was tough when he’d rather break camp, steal Livie away to a hotel in Vegas or Laughlin with room service and a king-sized bed, and not come out for the next five days. Yep, greedy, but she made him feel something besides anger and loss.

  Livie and the girls waved them off with smiles and settled back into their chatting and laughter.

  Nate and he hiked along in companionable silence, reminding Dave of simpler days. Nate’s frequent pauses to shoot pictures slowed the hike and, as Nate focused on light and shadow and depth of field, Dave’s mind wandered into snips of botany and biology and the unique balance of the ecosystem in this land of rock, sun, and heat.

  But, like a rubber band, his thoughts snapped right to Livie and what she’d shared yesterday. What the hell was he to do about this thing with Livie?

  He enjoyed how she could fish peacefully beside him, without needing to fill the quiet with chatter. He liked making the tension ease from her eyes and shoulders. That sex between them was incredible went without saying. He loved seeing the passion rise in her eyes and ensuring she enjoyed every moment.

  But Sunday was coming fast, along with the end to this peaceful vacation time-out. The thought of letting Livie go set his teeth on edge, but a real relationship between them hadn’t an ice cube’s chance in hell of working out in the real world. Geography alone was a big, awkward problem, and just because he was successfully ignoring his personal issues didn’t mean they were fixed. There was too much Livie needed that he just couldn’t give her. She’d fall in love again someday and make that man a very lucky guy.

  Now, if only that prospect didn’t jab like a rusty saw blade through his gut.

  This is why breaking your rules is a dumbass thing to do.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Livie?” Nate crouched by a clump of beavertail and adjusted his camera settings.

  He was in no mood to be cornered about Livie. “Just spending time together.”

  “You never just spend time with a woman here.”

  “So?” He headed up the trail. Maybe if he kept walking Nate would drop the subject.

  “She just divorced the asshole.”

  Dave planted his cane and turned sharply. “I kinda know, yeah.” He jammed all his frustration into his words.

  “She’s not ready to get involved with anyone. She’s not like your other hook-ups. You’re going to hurt her.” Nate glared, gray eyes hard as concrete. “You need to back off.”

  “Hell, what are you, her brother? You know me, Nate, I don’t hurt women.” Hadn’t they done this argument a year ago? Except then, Nate had been the one making an ass of himself.

  “Your love ’em and leave ’em history isn’t what Livie needs. She needs someone who’s going to be around, someone who wants a family.”

  Blind rage burst out of nowhere. The next moment he had his hand twisted in Nate’s shirt. “Who are you to know what Livie or I need? You don’t know a damn thing!”

  Dave shoved Nate away, but turned too sharply on his bum leg—

  Falling. Sick tumbling through darkness.

  He hit the stony ground hard and clumsy, as if he’d never learned to fall. His elbow slammed a rock. Blinding white pain stole his breath, and the brief seconds of helpless falling set off the damn shakes.

  “Dave!” Nate reached down.

  Dave rolled to his side, clutching his arm, gasping against the false terror inflicted by his screwed-up head. Thorny pains stabbed his hip. Sunbaked stones seared against bare skin. His eyes watered, half his hand was nu
mb, and his elbow burned and throbbed. Shit! If he’d broken another bone…

  “Just piss off!” he gasped, struggling for breath and control.

  “Shut the hell up, pal, and hold still.” Nate planted a hand on Dave’s shoulder. “Stop being a moron. You’re shaking. What did you do to your arm?”

  The worry in Nate’s eyes was the worst. Dave grimaced. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Let me look. You’re bleeding.”

  Dave knocked Nate’s hand away and gingerly stretched his arm. Okay, bruised and cut, but okay. He pried a mesquite twig from his hip where three thorns had clawed into him through his shorts.

  “Damn, you’re a pain in the ass, Quinn. I only gave myself a stinger on the funny bone. I’m fine.”

  With his worried gray eyes saying bullshit, Nate hauled Dave to his feet. “Why the hell they call it the funny bone, I don’t know. Nothing funny about it.”

  Dave jerked from Nate’s steadying grip, nearly toppling again. Brilliant. He jammed his fists against his hips, fighting the shakes.

  Nate shot him an irate frown and dug around in his camera bag, pulling out an antiseptic wipe and bandage. “Hold still!”

  He submitted, fuming while Nate cleaned up the scraped elbow.

  “We’ll head back.”

  “No. I’m not fucking fragile.” Dave grabbed his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “Take your damned shots. I need to walk.” His best friend thought him an asshole? Beyond furious, he limped off along the path.

  “Dave, damn it!”

  He flipped Nate a finger and kept walking. Yeah, he had a history of keeping dates shallow and physical, with the lines always clear-cut. On purpose.

  He’d had enough experience with serious to have learned the hurtful way that shallow was best for both parties. He worked too hard and played too hard to give more to a relationship. A commitment meant body, time, and emotion. His never being around was unfair to the girl. He didn’t need someone worrying over his jumps and the fires and not hearing from him.

  But the job is gone, and are you sure you made those lines clear this time?

  The day’s heat steadily soared and slowly baked the mad out of him, but not the guilt Nate’s challenge had raised.

  Just before they reached the trail into camp, Nate stepped in front of him, pinning him with those far-too keen eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I got on your case. I’m just concerned for you both.”

  “It’s fine. Sorry I lost my temper, but Livie and I aren’t up for discussion.”

  “Got it.”

  He squashed the guilt. Nate was still wrong, Livie and he were fine…but maybe they should clarify the situation.

  However, as he stole Livie away over the next few days on the pretext of fishing or sightseeing, should and able proved two entirely different matters. He needed to be with her, to lose himself in her too much in the now to focus on the future. Their time together was more pure and perfect than he’d experienced before in his life.

  Then why doesn’t it feel…enough?

  ****

  “Morning.” Dave slid an arm around Olivia’s waist, pulling her away from the coffee pot into a sweet, blatant kiss.

  “A very good morning.” She loved the warm, firm press of his lips against hers, his beard’s scratchy rasp. She loved his natural, down-to-earth public displays of affection. If he wanted to hold her hand, steal a kiss, or wrap his arm around her waist, he did, inspiring her to be as free in return.

  Anticipation rose. She craved him and losing herself in his arms. Where would they go today?

  Out of the blue, a flurry of guilt nipped her. In her involvement with Dave, she’d forgotten to worry over Uncle Jake, and she hadn’t talked to Mama in days. She would make two quick calls when they reached the marina.

  However, today everyone hung at camp, spending as much time talking and skiing as possible, as if spurred by melancholy at how few days remained to share together before heading homeward Sunday morning.

  She only had three full days left on this trip, and they faced the edge of decision: what would become of this relationship? Neither of them had discussed the future. She’d walked into this affair, recklessly, but with eyes wide open. He’d made her no promises.

  The sensible action would be simply accept this relationship as a natural, healing rebound, part of learning to move on with her post-R.J. life. Dave was a fun companion and had given her a wonderful gift: she wasn’t lacking or frigid or any of the failings R.J. had belittled her with throughout their marriage.

  Yet, below the delight Dave had brought into her life, shadowing sorrow lurked. Why couldn’t she have discovered this with R.J.? She’d loved him so deeply in the beginning.

  Blindly. And hid your head in the sand.

  Rage boiled in a scalding, aching rush. R.J. had chosen other women, denied her the chance to find this intimacy and pleasure together, denied her his patience, and worst of all, denied her respect.

  And the deepest ache was her anger with herself that she’d failed to demand any of it from him.

  After supper, most everyone headed off night fishing. She’d expected Dave to join them, but he’d grabbed the seat beside her and popped a beer. JoAnn and Lloyd were babysitting the twins, and Margie, Nate, and Kay were keeping them company.

  The evening cooled. The children fell asleep and were tucked into their beds. The men reminisced animatedly about long-ago trips, full of happy memories and laughter.

  Kay and JoAnn knew the old stories well, but the do-you-remember conversations left Olivia lost in their history. Margie and she exchanged commiserating shrugs. The hazards of being the new kids among old friends.

  When she slipped away to freshen her drink, Kay joined her and surprised her with a warm hug.

  “Thank you.” Kay’s voice caught, husky with emotion. “It’s good to see Dave being himself again. I’m sorry again for what I said the other night. You two are good together.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  Kay hugged her again and stepped away with a smile. “Right.”

  Dave laughed at something with Nate, and stretched in his chair, raising his arms up and back, drawing his T-shirt tight across his chest. He did look better, some of the old snap and playfulness brightening his face. He’d simply needed this time with his best friends and to immerse himself in happy memories.

  When Olivia returned to her seat, Dave slipped his hand in hers without pausing his conversation, his warm, callused fingers wrapping around hers in a welcoming squeeze.

  Tonight, life was very good.

  Content, she drifted along in the rambling exchange, until a yawn escaped her. She smiled and rose. “Good night, all. Too much sun and fun for me today. I hear my cot calling my name.”

  Dave rose with her and slipped his arm around her waist. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “Thanks, I’d like the company.”

  After a round of goodnights, they headed up the hillside trail. In the distance, a coyote sang, a lonely, oddly serene song. Odd creaks, whirs, and chirps added their own delicate rhythm to the night’s peace.

  “You okay being alone until the others get back? Might be a couple more hours.”

  “Yes. I’m very comfortable here. I understand why you all come year after year.”

  “I can hang awhile, if you like?”

  “I’d like.”

  Down in her camp, he turned on the lantern for her and then kicked back in a chair. “Go on, do your thing.”

  Olivia was glad of his company, but, despite the physical intimacy they’d shared and being accustomed to the lack of personal privacy in the camp, following her bedtime routine with him watching was strangely awkward. After changing clothes to the light tank top and knit shorts she slept in, she turned to find him slouched comfortably, his face set with a contemplative expression. He straightened and held out his hand.

  Heat swept her. When she took his hand, he drew her down to straddle his lap and into a devouring, hot kiss, bod
y to body. Groaning, he traced his lips over her cheek and pressed kisses down her throat with licks and little nips. “You smell so good. You taste even better.”

  His hands cruised to grip her bottom, greedy and sensitive, and drag her tight against him. They strove together for more and more contact, her body riding against his, her soft to his beautifully hard, lost in the hungry, crazy kisses. She loved this tease of tongues and deep wet kisses and shared breath. Oh, what he could do with his mouth…everywhere.

  He skimmed his hands underneath her top to cup and stroke her bare breasts. “I need you.” Another groan growled from him. “But…”

  “We’re alone. We’ll hear them coming.” Excitement sizzled, and she reclaimed his mouth, abandoning all worries.

  “Your cot. Now.” Briskly levering her onto her feet and then himself, he backed her toward her tent, locked in a rich and consuming kiss. Despite greedy hands and hungry mouths they managed to let go long enough to unzip and zip the netting doorway.

  Struggling to strip clothing and laughing as limbs tangled in the confined space, they sprawled onto her cot. She sighed at the heavy warm press of his body. His mouth sank over hers, sparking off more feverish, delicious kisses and touching. Aching for him, she wrapped her legs around him impatiently. “Hurry.”

  Dave shoved away abruptly, expelling a fervent “Shit!” and leaned over, searching his hand around the tent floor. A gusty “Thank you!” followed by a thin crinkling rip set her to laughing.

  He grinned, anchoring himself over her on those strong arms and returned the laugh as he thrust inside her. They both groaned in relief, loud in the quiet night and they shushed each other, breaking into more stifled outbursts of silly laughter. He silenced them both with another hard, deep kiss and slick, gliding thrust.

  She latched her hands on the cot railing, urging him on with a roll of her hips, and again, still impatient.

  “Aw, that’s the way.” He growled and filled her hard, harder, his controlled roughness exciting. She rose and met each stroke in the crazy hot wonderful pace. They’d only made love in the heat and glare of broad day. Night changed, intensified everything. Touch, sound, smell, taste, all grew close and intimate. The raspy dark stubble of his strong jaw. His fierce kisses. The salt on his skin. That perfect, warm outdoor scent of him. How he filled her so deeply. Her heart pumping in a storm of sensation and emotion.