“Would you like some coffee?” The moment the invitation was spoken, Elizabeth half regretted it.
“Sounds great.”
She smiled and opened the door wide, hoping Donovan couldn’t tell that her stomach was jumping with nerves. Donovan stepped into the living room and the room seemed suddenly much smaller.
“I’ll just go put it on. It won’t take a minute.” She escaped to the kitchen, wishing there was a door to shut between them so she could close her eyes for a few moments and try to figure out what on earth she thought she was doing. Her hands were not quite steady as she opened cupboards and got out cups.
She’d been nuts to invite him in on tonight of all nights. In the six weeks they’d been dating, she’d avoided having him in her apartment, and she’d flatly refused his invitations to have dinner at their old home. There were too many memories there and there was too much intimacy here. She wasn’t sure where their relationship was going, but she wasn’t going to rush.
Whatever happened, this time around she was going to give it a lot of thought. She would be thirty-seven on her next birthday. A mature woman by anybody’s standards.
She put water on to heat and leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths. She couldn’t see Donovan from here, but she could feel him. He was only a few feet away, and the tension that had been building between them reached out to catch her in its web.
It was that stupid movie. She’d been crazy to suggest that they go see a film billed as a passionate love story. The love scenes had been enough to make the screen melt. She’d sat through them, her arms held against her side, avoiding any contact with Donovan’s muscular shoulder.
It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been sexual tension between them right along. She knew Donovan wanted her, and physically, she wanted him. But she wasn’t jumping into anything, and he’d respected that wish. When he kissed her good-night, she could feel his tension and she knew it would take only a word from her to change everything.
Tonight, she wanted to say that word. But she wasn’t going to give in to temporary desire sparked by a sensuous movie. She was going to remain rational and calm. If and when she slept with Donovan it was going to be after they’d discussed their relationship and clarified just what each of them wanted from it. That was the adult, sensible way to handle things.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she wasn’t aware she was no longer alone until Donovan’s mouth settled on the nape of her neck, which had been left bare by her upswept hair. A shiver ran through her, leaving her knees weak. Her logical thoughts scattered in a thousand directions as his lips moved against her tender skin, finding every nerve ending and bringing it to life.
“Donovan.” She’d intended his name to be a protest, but it came out as more of a whimper.
“Hmm?” His teeth nibbled gently at the curve where her neck and shoulder met, one hand tugging aside the neckline of her blouse to give him more room.
“Donovan. I want you—” She forgot what she was saying when his mouth found her ear. His tongue traced every curve, his teeth nipped at her earlobe. If it hadn’t been for the counter in front of her and the length of his body behind her, Elizabeth would have melted to the floor.
“I want you, too.” His kisses moved down the side of her neck. One of his hands found its way to her waist, sliding upward to cup the weight of her breast, his thumb brushing across the tip, bringing it singing to life. The thin cotton of her blouse was no protection.
“I mean I—” What did she mean? She couldn’t think.
He slid his other hand downward, boldly cupping the warmth between her legs, drawing her backward until she was pressed against him. She drew in a quick, hard breath. His arousal pressed against her was a potent call for her to abandon logic and caution. How could she think when his hands held her so close, reminding her of how long it had been since he’d held her like this, touched her like this.
She didn’t protest as he turned her into his arms, his hands sliding across her back. Her head tilted back, her eyes closed. Her hands came up to press against his chest, somehow losing their impetus and sliding up to his shoulders.
“Beth.”
No, don’t say anything. Kiss me. Don’t make me think.
“Beth, look at me.” His voice was husky and she could feel his tension.
He wanted her. She could feel the proof of that like a hot brand against her stomach.
“Beth, open your eyes.”
Her lashes fluttered and then slowly lifted. She wanted him to kiss her, to make her forget all her logic and caution. His eyes blazed down at her, hunger and need mixing in a potent combination..
“Is this what you want?”
Why was he making her decide? Didn’t he know that all he had to do was kiss her and she’d melt? She didn’t want to think about what she was doing.
“Beth, I ache with wanting you. But, if this isn’t what you want, I’ll walk out of here right now.”
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. He wasn’t going to let her pretend that she didn’t know what was happening. He was going to make her face her choice head-on. If she said she wanted him to stay, he would make love to her. Their relationship would change, and there would be no going back to the quasi-safety of the past weeks.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to kiss me?” She could hardly get the words past the nervous lump in her throat. The golden flare of his eyes made her pulse jump, and the reckless grin that slashed his face stole her breath.
He bent, sweeping her off her feet to cradle her against his chest, his mouth capturing hers. With her last remnant of sanity, Beth reached out to shut the stove off. Somehow, she didn’t think they’d be wanting any coffee.
He carried her through the apartment, his long strides covering the short distance to her dark, cool bedroom. He set her down. His hands cupped her face, and he kissed her over and over again until she was breathless.
The desire that had been building between them during the past weeks bubbled up, full and rich, a driving force that would not be denied. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, sighing with pleasure when her palms were at last able to press against his skin. Crisp, black curls covered hard muscles.
Donovan shrugged the shirt of with an impatient movement before turning his attention to her blouse. She let him pull the blouse over her head. Her bra was quickly removed, tossed into some corner of the room.
A sob caught in the back of her throat as he drew her toward him again. The crisp, curling hair brushed against her swollen nipples, teasing, building the fire higher. She would have melted onto his chest but he held her away, tantalizing, moving her so that her breasts barely touched him, teasing her.
“Damn you.” The words left her on a moan, and she heard him laugh just before he gave her what she wanted. She sobbed as he pushed her back onto the bed, lying over her, his chest crushing her breasts with delicious weight.
His mouth found hers, his tongue stabbing inside, tasting her, making her his. His fingers fumbled with the side fastening on her skirt, stripping the garment away. He slid his hand beneath her bottom, cupping her through the fragile silk of her panties, arching her upward as his jean-clad thigh slid between her legs.
It was too much and it wasn’t nearly enough. Elizabeth was filled with need. Only Donovan had touched her like this. Surely no other man would ever know just the way to set her on fire. His head bent and his mouth captured the swollen peak of one breast, his teeth scraping the tender flesh. His thigh pressed upward, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of what she really wanted.
Her fingers clenched around his shoulders, her breath, leaving her in soft moans. He held her helpless, leaving her no choice but to feel everything he was doing, every demand he was making. She pushed at his shoulders, her movements weak. She didn’t want him to stop the delicious assault, but she wanted more—needed more—had to have it.
Donovan dragged his mouth from her breast, his breathing as ragged as hers. Elizabeth’s fingers found the waist of his jeans. The snap gave easily, and her hand slid inside. Donovan shuddered as her fingers closed around him, cool against the fiery heat of his arousal.
The jeans hit the floor with a soft thud and her panties followed, a whisper of light without sound. His legs slid between hers, his skin fiery hot. But no hotter than the passion he’d created inside her. She felt him against her, hot and hard, and she forgot how to breathe.
“Look at me, Beth.” His voice seemed to rasp in his throat.
Elizabeth dragged her eyes open to stare into the green-gold depths of his. The passion she read there only stoked the flames higher. No one had ever wanted her the way Donovan did. Body and soul, every inch of her belonging to him. No one would ever want her like that again.
“Donovan.” The name was a whisper, a breath. It said everything and told him nothing.
His eyes holding hers, he slid forward, possessing and being possessed. Elizabeth arched, her breath leaving her on a sob as he filled the aching emptiness within. It had been so long. She’d almost convinced herself that it hadn’t been this wonderful, this right. After the first, heavy thrust, he rested against her a moment, giving her body time to adjust, drawing on all his control.
He started to move, bracing his weight on his hands, his eyes never leaving her face. She could feel herself spinning out of control. Her hands slid up and down his back, seeking something to cling to, something to slow the spinning madness that beckoned her. There was nothing but Donovan’s sweat-dampened skin, the muscles rippling beneath her fingers.
She wanted it to last forever. It had to end soon or she’d fly into a million pieces, never to be put back together again. Her head turned back and forth, scattering golden-blond hair across the pale blue bedspread. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she could do was feel. Tension coiled low in her belly, each thrusting motion tightening the coil until she was begging him to end it.
“Please, please, please.”
And he gave her what she sought.
He thrust deeply, seeming to reach to the very core of her, and the coil sprang apart, shattering the tension that held her together. Donovan’s mouth caught her cry, swallowing it, absorbing it into himself, just as he seemed to have absorbed her into himself. Elizabeth’s nails dug into his shoulders, her body tightening around him, demanding that he follow her into the spinning maelstrom that threatened to swallow her and drown her in pleasure. She tasted his groan of surrender, felt his shudder of completion and was filled with a purely feminine pleasure. In the taking, he had been taken. In the giving, he had received.
For a long time, there was no sound in the room beyond the ragged rhythm of their breathing. She murmured a protest when he shifted, lifting his weight from her. If he moved, she might have to acknowledge that the rest of the world existed. Right now, she didn’t want to think of anything beyond this room, beyond this night.
“I’ll squash you.” He kissed her softly and lifted himself away.
“What a nice way to go.” The words came out on a yawn, and she sensed more than saw his grin. She didn’t open her eyes as the bed shook with his movements. He pulled down the covers and then bent to scoop her up and lay her against the sheets, her head on the pillow. She frowned but, before she could voice her protest, Donovan slid beneath the covers, his long body a warm contrast to the cool cotton sheets.
Elizabeth hadn’t realized how the tension had been building until it was finally broken. She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the strong pull that lay between them. She snuggled against Donovan’s side, more relaxed than she had been in months—years.
There were things that needed to be said, but right now, she couldn’t think what they were. This changed everything, but she didn’t want to think about the changes. She didn’t want to think about anything except the delicious peace that filled her and the warmth of Donovan next to her. She drifted to sleep, aware of Donovan shifting her into a more comfortable position, his hand stroking the tangled hair back off her forehead.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe and protected. Perhaps it had been the last time she’d gone to sleep in Donovan’s arms .
#
It was not long past dawn when Donovan awoke. Sunlight streamed in through the lightweight curtains, spilling across the bed, promising a beautiful day. He didn’t have to wonder why the sunlight was coming in at the wrong angle. Elizabeth’s body was a warm, welcome weight along him and he knew exactly where he was.
For the first time in months, he was home. If Elizabeth was in his arms, that was home. It wouldn’t matter if it was another state, another country or another planet, this was home. She snuggled close to his side, one leg thrown across his thighs, one arm sprawled over his chest.
His smile held an element of pain. It had been so long. How could he have been such a fool that he’d let this slip through his fingers? Having come so close to losing her forever, he’d never lose sight of just how precious she was. Without her, his life was only half-complete. She was what made everything worthwhile. His arms tightened around her. Now that he had her back, he’d never let go.
She’d been sweetly responsive last night, demanding and giving, taking everything he had to offer and returning it to him ten times over. He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling all the remembered scents, refreshing his memory, savoring the peace of the moment.
These past few months had been miserable. But it was going to be all right now. They belonged together, and last night had shown that they both knew it. He kissed her forehead, kissing his way across each delicate eyebrow.
Elizabeth stirred. Donovan planted soft kisses down her nose before settling on her mouth. Her lips were soft and sleepy. She came awake under him, her fingers flexing against his chest, reminding him of a cat kneading its paws with contentment. He pulled her closer, feeling himself growing hard beneath the weight of her leg. She felt it too, shifting her thigh to rub against him.
Their lovemaking was slow. Last night’s driving pressure had been eased, and they took their time rediscovering each other. The pleasure was no less intense, but it was not the shattering force of the night before. Afterward, they lay silent for a while, savoring the delight in not waking up alone.
Donovan dropped a kiss on her temple, tasting the gentle pulse that beat there. “Let’s go home. I want you back in our bed, in our home.” He murmured the words against her ear, his contentment so deep that it took him a moment to feel her sudden tension.
He went still, feeling all the contentment drain away. Elizabeth pushed against him and he released her, watching as she sat up, the sheet drawn over her breasts. His heart was beating a little too hard and a little too fast. He had the sinking feeling that things were not going quite as he’d thought.
“Beth? What is it? You’re coming back to me, aren’t you?”
She looked away, but he’d seen the answer in her eyes: He swung his legs to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, not wanting her to see the shattered look that must be in his eyes. Behind him, he felt her get out of bed, heard her open her closet door and knew she was putting something on.
“Donovan?” Her voice was hesitant, and he winced at the concern he heard. He wanted and needed her, but he was damned if he’d beg for her. He didn’t want her pity. He stood up and walked around the bed. He stooped to pick up his jeans and stepped into them, keeping his expression rigidly under control.
“Donovan, don’t be angry with me. Please.”
He jerked the zipper up and shrugged. “I’m not angry. I shouldn’t have assumed that last night meant you’d be coming back. I suppose these days, a night in bed together is no big deal.” He reached for his shirt, but she got to it before he did, holding on when he would have pulled it away.
“Please. I don’t want you to think it didn’t mean anything to me. It’s just too soon.”
The catch in her voice made him look at her face, even though he only wanted to take his hurt and walk away. He wanted to go somewhere and beat his fists against a wall until the pain in his hands, distracted him from the ache in his chest.
But there was pain in her eyes, too, and he couldn’t just walk away. With an effort, he shrugged, forcing a half smile.
“Don’t worry about it. I assumed too much. You’ve probably got things to do, so if you’ll give me my shirt, I’ll get out of your way.”
She shook her head, and his ache intensified. Did she know how gorgeous she was? Standing there in a peacock-blue silk robe, her hair a tangled, golden curtain on her shoulders, his shirt clutched to her breasts.
“I don’t want you to leave until we’ve talked this out.”
“What’s to talk about? We made love, I made some assumptions.”
“Don’t be so damned pigheaded!” Anger flashed in her eyes. “Talk to me. I don’t want to hear all this macho claptrap. I want you to talk to me, and I want you to listen to what I have to say. This is exactly the garbage that got us in trouble in the first place. If you won’t talk to me, how can I know what you’re feeling?”
“If I have to tell you what I’m feeling, then what’s the sense? If two people are close enough, they should know what the other feels.”
“It doesn’t always work that way. If it did, you would have realized a long time ago how unhappy I was.”
He stared at her, his gut full of turmoil. He couldn’t answer her because she was right. He should have known and have done something, changed something, become something else. Only he’d been blind to her needs—so blind that he’d lost her.
“What do you want me to say?” If the question was sullen, he couldn’t help it. A man didn’t go around laying his soul bare, not even to the woman he loved more than life itself.
She took a deep breath, and her fingers tightened around his shirt. “I don’t want you to say anything. I just want you to listen. Last night meant a great deal to me. But I’m not ready to just pack up and move back in with you. I’ve never lived alone. If I give this all up and move back in with you, I’ll never know if I can make it on my own.”
He threw his hand out in an impatient gesture. “Don’t give me that stuff about finding yourself.”
“It’s not ‘stuff.’ It’s something that’s very important to me. If you care about me, then you’ll want me to do this.”
She stood there, dignified despite her tangled hair and bare feet. Her eyes met his evenly, demanding his support.
Donovan stared at her for a long time without saying anything. If he had any hopes of winning her back to him, he had to give her this chance—not grudgingly as if he were doing her a favor but openly and generously. He had to give her honest support in finding her dreams. Perhaps if he did that, she’d realize that he was one of her dreams.
“All right.” He reached out to touch her cheek. “I really want you to be happy, Beth. I guess I’m just not sure where we go from here.”
Her smile was shaky, but she leaned her face into his hand. “Couldn’t we just go on as we have been? Dating and things.”
“After last night, I don’t think I could go back to leaving you at your door at night. There isn’t enough cold water in the whole state of Indiana to keep me cool enough.”
She flushed. “I didn’t mean to go back to being platonic.”
He widened his eyes, his expression shocked. “Are you suggesting that we have an affair, Ms. Sinclair? How thoroughly risqu é of you.”
“Wouldn’t you like to have an affair with me? We haven’t had one in twenty years.” Her eyes coaxed him, and Donovan felt himself melting. His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer until her bare feet were tucked between his, the silk of her robe brushing his jeans.
“I can’t imagine anything that would give me more pleasure. ”
#
If all their problems weren’t solved by their talk, at least some of them were eased. The summer days spun by in a haze of Indiana heat. The farmers talked about it being one of the best summers they’d had in years, but Elizabeth and Donovan wouldn’t have noticed if a tornado had flattened every cornfield in a hundred-mile radius.
Michael spent his time going to or returning from camping trips, but when he was home, he seemed pleased with the direction his parents were heading. Elizabeth hadn’t been sure how he’d feel about the two of them being together yet not together, but he seemed to take it in stride. He was more concerned with how often he could talk his father into letting him borrow the motorcycle.
That motorcycle was another worry of Elizabeth’s. She acknowledged the exhilarating thrill of riding down the highway with the wind in your face, but she was still uneasy with the idea of Donovan riding it, let alone their son. She also knew it would be foolish to forbid Michael. He was nineteen, and there was nothing more natural in the world than that he should be excited by such a nifty toy. She had to trust in helmets, good sense and luck to keep both her men safe.
Luck, at least, seemed to be running on her side these days. She was doing so well with the interior decorating service at Mason’s Mrs. Tancredi had given her a bigger office, increased her salary, and was giving her a commision on the sales she made. Remembrance was growing. There were several small developments going up on the edge of town. Donovan had designed three of them, and he freely admitted to pulling some strings to get her hired to decorate the model homes.
At first, Elizabeth was uneasy with the idea of Donovan using his influence to get her work, but he pointed out that she still had to prove herself. If she did a lousy job, the blame would fall on her head. He laughed when she slugged him with a pillow and announced that she never did a lousy job. The resulting pillow fight ended with her pinned deliciously beneath him, paying a forfeit in kisses, a penalty she didn’t mind a bit.
That was the best part of summer. If there were still subjects that she and Donovan didn’t discuss, there were a million others to talk about. The recent past was taboo, as was the more distant future. Neither one of them wanted to rock the careful balance they’d achieved.
She and Donovan spent time together three or four times a week. Sometimes he took her out; sometimes she cooked dinner at her apartment. Once or twice he insisted on cooking dinner for her at their old home, but there were too many memories there for either of them to be entirely comfortable. Everything had changed too much. By unspoken consent, they didn’t make love in their old bed. Elizabeth couldn’t have said why, but it just didn’t feel right.
As far as she was concerned, things were going well. She had her job, her son and her relationship with Donovan was getting stronger.
But the one constant in life is change, and nothing stays the same for long. While Elizabeth was enjoying her life, Donovan was marking time, waiting for the moment when they could get on with the real business of living. It was inevitable that their two goals were on a collision course.