by Nora Roberts
going to handle it. When it was just sex—''
"It was never just sex for me."
"I didn't know that," she said quietly. "I didn't know how you felt, or how I felt, until it was just there. And it's so big, so important. So scary."
It surprised him, not just what she said but the way she said it. Nerves, regrets, confusion. All those things were so rare in Margo when it came to the games men and women played.
"You're scared?"
"Terrified." She hissed out a breath and rose to yank a robe out of the closet. "And I'm not happy about it."
"So am I."
With the beginnings of temper simmering in her eyes, she looked at him over her shoulder. A long, lean male animal, she mused, his hands tucked behind his head now, the start of a smirk on that gorgeous mouth. She wasn't sure whether to slug him or jump on him.
"So are you what?"
"Terrified, and not happy about it."
She tugged the belt on the robe, kept her hands in place as she turned. "Really?"
"You know what I figure, duchess?"
"No." It was the smirk that drew her, had her going back to sit on the side of the bed. "What is it that you figure?"
"It's all been so easy for us before. Too easy."
"And this isn't going to be."
He took her hand, linking fingers casually. "Doesn't look like it. Maybe I've got a little problem, a hitch, when it comes to other men. After all, the woman I'm in love with has been engaged five times."
"Three." She jerked her hand free, aware that her past was constantly going to sneak up and slap her in the face. "The other two were products of an overeager press. And the three were… quickly rectified mistakes."
"The point being," he said, with what he considered admirable patience, "that none of my relationships ever progressed that far."
"Which could be taken as a fear of commitment on your part."
"Could be," he murmured. "But the simple fact is I've been in love with you nearly half my life. Nearly half my life," he said again, sitting up so that his eyes, dark as shadows, were level with hers. "Every woman I touched was a substitute for you."
"Josh." She only shook her head. There was nothing she could say, nothing that could rise above the wave of emotion that swamped her.
"It's demoralizing, Margo, to watch the woman, the only woman you really want, turn to anyone but you. To wait and to watch."
It was thrilling, and panicking, to think it. To know it. "But why did you wait?"
"A man has to use what advantage he has. Mine was time."
"Time?"
"I know you, Margo." He skimmed a finger down the curve of her cheek. "Sooner or later you were going to get in over your head, or just get bored with the high life."
"And you'd be right there to pick up the pieces."
"It worked," he said lightly and snagged her wrist before she could jump out of the bed. "No reason to get frosted."
"It's a perfect reason. You arrogant, egotistical son of a bitch. Just wait till Margo fucks up and then step in." She'd have taken a swing at him if he hadn't anticipated her and grabbed her other wrist.
"I wouldn't have put it exactly that way, but…" He smiled winningly. "You did fuck up."
"I know what I did." She tugged her arms outward and only succeeded in performing a warped rendition of patty-cake. "I also got out of that mess with Alain on my own." It was the flicker in his eyes that stopped her. It was there and gone quickly, but she knew every nuance of his face. "Didn't I?"
"Sure you did, but the point is—"
"What did you do?" Incensed, she batted her trapped hands against his chest. "You weren't in Greece. I'd have known if you were. How did you fix it?"
"I didn't fix it. Exactly." Hell. "Look, I made a few calls, pulled in a few markers. Christ, Margo, did you expect me to sit around on the beach while they were toying with tossing your butt in jail?"
"No." She spoke quietly because she was afraid she might scream. "No. I have a crisis, you ride to the rescue. Let go of my hands."
"I don't think so," he said, judging the temper in her eyes. "Listen, all I did was make it go away faster. They didn't have anything on you, didn't want to have anything on you. But there wasn't any point in you cooling your heels in custody longer than necessary. All you'd done was have the bad taste and poor sense to hook up with some slick con artist who was using you for cover."
"Thank you very much."
"Don't mention it."
"And since you have mentioned it, yet again, I'll admit that I've had plenty of experience with bad taste and poor sense." She jerked her arms, fuming when he held firm. "But I'm over it now. I took charge of my own life, damn you. And I put it back together, piece by piece. Which is something you've never had to do. I took the risk, I did the work, I—"
"I'm proud of you." Deflating her completely, he brought her fisted hands to his lips.
"Don't try to turn this around."
"Proud of the way you faced what had to be done and turned it all into something unique and exciting." He opened her fingers, pressed his lips to her palm. "And moved by you. By the way you stood there tonight, by the things you said."
"Damn you, Josh."
"I love you, Margo." His lips curved. "Maybe it was my poor sense that made me love you before. But I'm even more in love with the woman I'm with now."
Defeated, she rested her brow against his. "How do you do this, wind me up, spin me out? I can't remember why I was mad at you."
"Just come here." He drew her into his arms. "Let's see what else we can forget."
Later when she lay curled beside him, the weight of his arm around her, the sound of his heart beating slow and steady under her ear, she remembered it all. They had, she realized, resolved nothing. She wondered if two people who had known each other so long and so well could understand each other's hearts so little.
Until tonight, she'd never been ashamed of the men she had let into her life. Fun, excitement, romance had been everything she'd looked for, dreamed of. Most women had viewed her as competition. Even as a child she had had few female friends other than Laura and Kate.
But men…
She sighed and closed her eyes.
She understood men, had at an early age deduced the power that beauty and sex could wield. She'd enjoyed wielding it. Never to hurt, she thought. She had never played the game with the risk of genuine pain on either side. No, she'd always been careful to choose game partners who understood the rules. Older men, experienced men, men with smooth manners, hefty wallets, and guarded hearts.
None of them would interfere with her career, her ambitions, because the rules were simple and always followed.
Fun, excitement, romance. With no spills, no tangles, no hard feelings when she moved on.
No feelings at all. But plenty of poor judgment.
Now there was Josh. With him her power was different, her dreams were different. The rules were different. Oh, the fun was there, and the excitement, and the romance. But there had already been spills and tangles.
Didn't it follow that someone was going to get hurt?
However much he loved her, she hadn't yet earned his trust. And inches behind trust, she thought, was his respect.
He loved the woman he was with now, she remembered. But she wondered if he was waiting to see whether she would stay or run. And she wondered, deep down wondered, if she was waiting too.
After all, he'd been born to a life of privilege, had the in-the-blood advantage of being able to choose and discard anything—and anyone—at his leisure. If it was true that he'd wanted her for so long, he'd waited and watched, and, being Josh, he'd reveled in the challenge.
Now that the challenge had been met…
"I'll hate you for it," she murmured and pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Whoever does the hurting, I'll hate you for it." She curled closer, wishing he would wake, wake and make her mindless again so she wouldn't have to worry and wonder.
&n
bsp; "I love you, Josh." She laid her palm over his heart and counted the beats until hers matched them. "God help both of us."
Chapter Nineteen
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The cliffs were always the place Margo went for thinking. All of her major decisions had been made there. Who should be invited to her birthday party? Did she really want to cut her hair? Should she go to the homecoming dance with Biff or Marcus?
Those decisions had seemed so monumental at the time. The crash of waves, the smell of the sea and wildflowers, the jagged sweep of rocks from dizzying heights had both soothed and aroused her. The emotions she felt here went into all those decisions.
It was here she had come the day before she ran away to Hollywood. Just after Laura's wedding, she thought now. She was eighteen and so certain that life with all its mysteries was passing her by. She was desperate to see what was out there, to see what she could make of it. Make from it.
How many arguments had she had with her mother during those last weeks? she wondered. Too many to count, she thought now.
You've got to go to college, girl, if you want to make something out of yourself.
It's boring. It's useless. There's nothing for me there. I want more.
So you always have. More what this time?
More everything.
And she'd found it, hadn't she? Margo mused. More excitement, more attention, more money. More men.
Now that she had come full circle, what did she have? A new chance. Something of her own. And Josh.
She threw her head back, watched a gull swoop, skim the air, and bullet out to sea. Far out on the diamond-blue water a boat glided, glossy and white, the sun just catching the brass-work to wink and flash. The wind swirled up and spun like a dancer, teasing her hair, whipping at the draping silk of her white tunic.
She felt shockingly alone there, small and insignificant on the high, spearing cliffs, with destruction or glory only a few small steps away.
A metaphor for love? she thought, amused at herself. Deep thoughts had never been her forte. She was alone without him, solitary. If commitment to Josh was like a leap from a cliff, would a woman like her fly up or tumble and crash?
If it was a risk she was willing to take, what would it do to him? Would he trust her? Could he? Would he believe in her, stand with her? Would he, most of all, be willing to hold through all the ups and downs of a life together?
And how, in God's name, had she leaped from love to marriage? Jesus, she was actually thinking of marriage.
She had to sit down.
Shaky, she eased down onto a rock, waited for her breath to come back. Marriage had never been a goal in her life. The engagements had simply been a lark, a tease, no more serious to her than a wink and a smile.
Marriage meant promises that couldn't be broken with a shrug. It meant a lifetime, a sharing of everything. Even children. She shivered once, pressed her hand to her stomach. She wasn't the motherly type. No, no, white picket fences and car pools were light-years out of her realm.
No—she nearly laughed at herself—it wasn't even to be considered. She would live with him. The situation as it was now was perfect. Naturally, it was the way he wanted it as well. She couldn't understand why she'd gotten so worked up over it. The penthouse suite suited their needs, their lifestyles, gave them each a chance to fly off, together or separately, when the whim struck.
Nothing permanent, nothing that hinted at obligation. Of course, that had been the answer all along. Hotel life was in his blood, and it was part of her choice of living. Tired of looking at the same view? Pack up your clothes and find another.
Of course that was what he would want. And what she would be comfortable with.
Then she turned and looked up, higher still, at the house with its rock-solid permanence, its strength and its beauty. Towers added by new generations, colorful tiles set by the old. She knew that memories made there lasted forever. Dreams dreamt there never really faded away. Love spoken there bloomed as free and as wild as the tangled vines of bougainvillea.
But it wasn't hers. A home of her own was something that had always eluded her. She turned away again, looked out to sea, surprised that her eyes were stinging.
What do you want, Margo? What in God's name do you want?
More. More everything.
"Figured you'd be here." Kate dropped down on the rocks beside her. "Good day for sea gazing."
"You must be feeling jazzed this morning." Laura laid a hand on her shoulder. "Last night was a smash, beginning to end."
"She's brooding." Kate rolled her eyes at Laura. "Never satisfied."
"I'm in love with Josh." Margo stared straight ahead when she said it, as if speaking to the wind.
Kate pressed her lips together, considered. Because she couldn't see Margo's eyes behind the shaded lenses, she tipped them down on Margo's nose. "Lowercase or uppercase T?"
"Kate, it's not high school," Laura murmured.
"It's still a relevant question. What's the answer?"
"I'm in love with Josh," Margo repeated. "And he's in love with me. We've lost our minds."
"You mean it," Kate said slowly and shifted her gaze from Margo's eyes to Laura's. "She means it."
"I've got to walk." Margo rose quickly and began to follow the curving line of the cliffs. "I've got all this energy I don't know what to do with. And all these nerves that keep circling around from my head to my gut and back again."
"That doesn't have to be a bad thing," Laura told her.
"You were in love with Peter, weren't you?"
Laura looked down at her feet, told herself it was necessary to watch her step. "Yes. Yes, I was. Once."
"There's my point. You were in love with him, started a life together, and then it all fell apart. Do you have any idea how many relationships I've watched unravel or just rip? I couldn't count them. Nothing lasts forever."
"My parents?"
"Are the shining example of an exception to the rule."
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Kate grabbed at her arm.
"Are you and Josh thinking of getting married?"
"No. Good God, no. Absolutely not. Neither of us is the 'till death do us part' type." Needing to be closer to the sea, Margo picked her way down some rocks.
"Do you want to be in love with him?"
At Kate's question she looked over, annoyed, impatient. "It's not a choice."
"Of course it is." Kate didn't believe that love, or any other emotion, was uncontrollable.
"Love isn't a spring suit," Laura put in, "that you try on for size."
Kate merely moved her shoulders and scrambled agilely down to the ledge. "If it doesn't fit, you put it aside, as far as I'm concerned. So, Margo, does it fit or not?"
"I don't know. But I'm wearing it."
"Maybe you'll grow into it." Or, Laura worried, grow out of it.
It was the tone that made Margo stop. Concern was a layer over doubt. "I really do love him," she said quietly. "I don't know exactly how to handle it yet, but I do. We don't seem to be able to talk it through sensibly. I know, I can see that part of him is hung up on the way I've lived. The men I've been with."
"Oh, right. Like he's been in a monastery copying scripture for the last ten years." Kate squared her shoulders, her feminist flag waving high. "It's none of his damn business if you've taken on the Fifth, Six, and Seventh fleets. A woman has just as much right as a man to be stupidly and irresponsibly promiscuous."
Margo opened her mouth, but for a moment she could only laugh at the cleverly insulting support. "Thank you so much, Sister Immaculata."
"Anytime, Sister Slut."
"My point is," Margo continued dryly, "that it's not just garden-variety jealousy with Josh. I could overlook that, or be annoyed by that. In this case, he has cause to doubt, and I'm not sure how long it will take to prove to both of us that that part of my life is over."
"I think you're being too easy on him," Kate muttered.
"A
nd too hard on myself?"
Kate smiled cheerfully. "I didn't say that."
"Then I will," Laura said with an elbow jab to Kate's ribs.
"It's more than the men." Staring out to sea, Margo tried to make sense of it all. "That's just a kind of symptom, I suppose. He says he's proud of me, what I've done to put my life back in order. I'd say he's more surprised than anything else. And because of that," she said slowly, "I realize that it's unlikely he really expects me to follow it all the way through, to stand and to stay. Why should he?" she murmured, remembering his sharp reaction to her recent photo shoot. "He's waiting for me to take off again, to run to something bigger, easier."
"I'd say you don't have enough faith in him." Frowning, Kate studied Margo's face. "Are you planning to run?"
"No." It was something, at last, that she could be absolutely certain of. "I've finished running. But with my track record—"
"The two of you better start concentrating on now," Laura interrupted. "Where you are now and what you feel for each other now. All the rest, well, that just brought you to where you're standing, and who you're standing with."
It sounded so simple, so clean. Margo struggled to believe it. "Okay. I think it's best if we take it one step at a time," Margo decided. "Like a recovery program, in reverse." Reaching down, she picked up a pebble, tossed it out to sea. "Meanwhile, we're in meanwhile. It might be fun."
"Love's supposed to be." Laura smiled. "When it's not hell."
"You're the only one of the three of us who's been there." Margo glanced at Kate for confirmation.
"Affirmative."
"If it doesn't bother you, would you mind telling me how you came out the other side. I mean how did you fall out?"
It did bother her. It scraped her raw inside and left her a failure. But she would never admit it. "It was gradual, like water against rock gradually wears it down. It wasn't a flash, like waking up one morning and realizing I wasn't in love with my husband. It was a slow, nasty process, a kind of calcifying of emotions. In the end, I felt nothing for him at all."
A terrifying thought, Margo decided. Not to feel anything for Josh. She was sure she'd rather hate him than feel nothing for him. Or worse, much worse, she realized, to have him feel nothing for her. "Could you have stopped it?"
"No. We might have been able to stop it, but I couldn't. Not alone. He never loved me." And oh, that stung. "That makes it entirely different than you and Josh."
"I'm sorry, Laura."
"Don't be." Easier, Laura leaned against Margo's supporting arm. "I have two beautiful daughters. That's a pretty good deal all around. And you have a chance for something special, and uniquely yours."
"I might take that chance." She plucked another pebble, tossed it.
"Well, if you're looking to start a love nest, an account I have is unloading a property about half a mile south of here." Getting into the spirit, Kate scooped up pebbles herself. "A beauty, too. California Spanish."