The knocking on the door woke Micah from a restless sleep. The illuminated dial of the alarm clark showed 2:00 am. Bang, bang, bang. Before she walked from the bedroom, she grabbed the sweatpants she had left in the nearby chair and pulled them on under the big T-shirt she wore as a nightgown.
“Who is it?” she called in a sleep-filled voice, reaching for the light switch and running a hand through her tousled hair.
“It's me.”
She froze. “Rob?” Ten days had passed since she had last seen him. Ten days with nothing more than a telephone message. Micah pulled open the front door. “It's 2:00 a.m.”
“I know it's late,” he began, “but I just left the office—”
“The office? In the middle of the night?”
“I need to see you.”
Micah stood speechless for a moment, staring into the eyes that had haunted her nights and unsettled her days. “It's been a long time,” she said in a voice much calmer than she felt.
“I've tried to call. We've been in trial—”
“Did Angela ask you to come?” she asked, remembering the conversation she'd had with her friend the other day. She should never have confided in someone so close to Rob.
“Angela?” he asked with a frown. “What does my sister have to do with us?”
Micah shook her head slowly. “Nothing….” Nothing, she hoped.
Rob remained outside the door, his hands sunk into the pockets of his slacks. “Let me explain.”
“There's no need for excuses, Rob.”
“Excuses?” he responded sharply. “Do you think I'd come here at this hour to give you excuses?”
“I don't know.” Her reply came softly. “I don't know what to expect from you.”
He looked away from her, into the dark courtyard, as his anger seemed to fade. “It's this trial, Micah. It's a nightmare.” He paused, looking once again into her doubtful gaze. “We've spent every spare moment rehashing the case in Alsmore's office. Last weekend I had to fly to Phoenix to interview the client's brother for more details, and I was stuck out there for three days trying to locate the guy.”
Mrs. Poe's upstairs light came on, and Micah and Rob both glanced up at the tiny window to the east of the small rear apartment. Their privacy came to an annoying end when the landlady peered out at them from behind the shade.
“Come in,” Micah offered, opening the door a little wider.
“Why don't you have an answering machine?” he asked as he stepped inside.
“They're so impersonal,” she replied. “Besides, I didn't think I could justify the expense.”
“I've tried to call from the office, but you're never here. And it's been one or two o'clock in the morning before I get home each day. I didn't want to call you so late.”
Rob stepped inside as he spoke, and Micah closed the door, leaning against it for a moment. Was this just an excuse? And did it really matter? Ten days or one hundred, she had missed him.
“Micah?” Rob touched her shoulder.
She turned abruptly and pulled away from the contact. “So,” she began in an unsteady voice, “the trial is going badly?” Micah cleared her throat nervously and walked away from him.
“Yes,” he answered, studying her restless movement “Very.”
“Do you…do you want to talk about it?” Was that why he was here? What did he want from her? She sat down on the arm of the couch, not too close, not too far away.
“No.” Rob sank into the sofa's worn cushions. His voice, already scratchy and slightly hoarse, grew quiet. “That's all I've talked about for days.”
His tone sounded low and remote, tired and unfamiliar; and it had been so long. Reaching out, almost without thinking, Micah traced a finger down the thin, shadowy line of his unshaven cheek. Seeing the weariness in his eyes, it was easy to forget the rights and the wrongs, the should be's and shouldn't be's.
“You look exhausted,” she said, whisper-soft. “And you must be hungry.”
“Only for the sight of you,” he replied, capturing her hand in a slow, steady movement. Then, raising it to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her palm. Micah thought her heart would stop beating at the feel of his soft touch against her skin.
“Ten days…” Rob's eyes lowered to her lips, softly parted in unspoken response, and his voice was as gentle as a warm caress. “I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you are.”
Ten days. He had counted, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Rob,” she murmured, sliding easily into his arms. He held her close, breathing in the fragrance of her hair.
“Missed me?” he whispered.
Micah nodded, her cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of his shirt. “So much.”
“Good,” he replied before kissing the crown of her head. “I'd hate to think I was the only one who was miserable these past ten days.”
She dried her tears on the sleeve of her T-shirt. “When you didn't call, I thought that—” She broke off raggedly.
“That I didn't want to see you?” He cupped her face in his hands. “You can't mean that.”
Micah's mouth turned down in a sorrowful curve. She did mean it; she hadn't known. For ten days and nights, she had not known. “The last time we were together, you said nothing about the next day or the weekend or—”
“Do I need to say those things to you?” He touched the corner of her frown with a warm thumb. “Don't you know I want to be with you? Tomorrow and the next day and the next…”
No, she hadn't known—until now.
Rob's hand slid into the soft curls at the base of her neck, pulling her slowly, gently, toward him. Micah came willingly, her fingers touching the collar of his shirt. As his mouth met hers, the empty days of waiting faded, and the memories of her aching uncertainty dimmed in this meeting of their hearts.
Micah raised one hand to feel the slight roughness of his cheek beneath her fingertips as Rob abandoned her lips for the smooth line of her jaw and the curve of her neck. But when his mouth brushed the rapid pulse pounding in the slender column of her throat, he hesitated.
“Micah.” Her name was whispered, warm and lovely against her skin.
“Hmm…” She could barely think when he was touching her.
“Honey,” Rob began, his hands tightening on her shoulders, and he raised his head to look into trusting green eyes flecked with gold. The hesitation was gone, replaced by certainty. “Would you make some coffee?”
“Coffee?” Micah's wide-eyed gaze asked more than her one-word question. Had she heard him correctly?
“I came here to see you, to be with you, Micah,” he said, then kissed her forehead lightly, his lips lingering against the pleasant taste of her skin. “Not to take advantage of a sleepy young woman.”
A blush colored her cheeks, and she stared down at the open collar of Rob's shirt. She had dreamed of him, of being in his arms this way; but she hadn't imagined it ending with a cup of coffee.
“Micah, please,” he stated firmly.
She nodded, a little stunned by the interruption. “Coffee,” she repeated and stood up on wobbly legs.
Opening a cupboard door in the kitchen, she stood staring at the contents until she could think clearly again. Then she saw the bread. “Would you like a sandwich? I have ham salad.”
“That sounds great,” Rob answered as he entered the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching her.
“And I have iced tea, unless you really do want coffee?”
“Tea would be fine,” he responded with a disturbing smile. “Where were you all day?”
“Out in the country working on my painting of the church. There's something about that place that keeps me wanting to go back again and again.”
“Maybe you should attend there if you feel that strongly about it,” he suggested.
“I'd like that, but it's such a long drive,” she commented. “Would you go with me once? Just to see it?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I will.”
She smiled. “Anyway, when I came home from painting, Carole and I went out to dinner and to a play. I didn't get home until after midnight”
“I called at least a dozen times today.” He took the glass that Micah offered him and placed it on the counter. “And every evening this week. Don't you ever stay home?”
Micah cut the sandwich she was working on in half and placed the plate next to Rob's glass on the counter. “I've been home off and on, but I taught adult evening art classes several nights, and I did some private tutoring at a student's home.”
“Didn't you get the message I left at school?”
“Yes.” She remembered how much it had hurt to read the note. A called-in excuse reminiscent of a phoned-in prescription at the pharmacy. Impersonal, brief, necessary. “You were busy with a trial.”
“I didn't say that. I told the student who answered the phone that I was in trial and couldn't leave a number where I could be reached. I asked that you call me at home that night after midnight.”
Micah returned the leftover ham salad to the refrigerator shelf with a thud. “She didn't tell me that part.”
“Did she tell you the part about how I can barely sleep for thinking about you?” Rob took a drink of the iced tea while watching Micah's face register surprise at his statement.
“Rob, surely you didn't say that to a student?”
He shook his head, his eyes dancing with amusement as he returned the tea to the counter. “No, but maybe she would have remembered the message more accurately if I had.”
“Kids do have a way of remembering things they shouldn't have heard,” she said softly and moved into his arms. Her voice lowered to a gentle whisper. “And you're not the only one who's had trouble sleeping, you know.”
“No, I didn't know,” he replied, his darkening eyes searching her unsmiling face. His arms closed around her with hands strong and firm against her waist “I thought you said you didn't look good in yellow?”
Micah's gaze lowered momentarily to the yellow T-shirt and then raised once again to study the serious slant of Rob's mouth. “I didn't think anyone would see me wearing this old T-shirt. I'm not in the habit of letting people into my apartment at two o'clock in the morning.”
“You'd better not be,” he remarked in a harsh, uncompromising tone.
“Not even you, Counselor?” she teased.
The line of his mouth curved a little, giving way to a suppressed smile. “There are exceptions to every rule.”
The light shining from Micah's clear gaze revealed that Rob was already the exception, to that rule and to others that governed her heart.
“It's been a long ten days, Micah.” His hands slid up into the auburn curls that hung in disarray halfway down her back. “Go away with me tomorrow, just for the day.”
“Where?” she asked, smiling. As if it mattered.
“Away from work, responsibility, humanity…”
“It's supposed to rain all day,” she commented, remembering the weather forecast she had heard. But it could still be a perfect day. “You look so tired, Rob.” Her fingers barely touched his unshaven cheek. “Why don't you get some sleep, then come back around noon. I'll be home from church by then. We could spend the rest of the day here.”
“Here?” Rob studied her face curiously.
“I have plenty of food, and we could unplug the phone so no one would bother us.” Her voice grew softer as she spoke. “I love to be at home on dark, stormy days.”
“A rainy day in an apartment all to ourselves? That's a dangerous invitation you're issuing, Miss Shepherd.”
Micah knew it was. The whole relationship was dangerous, for both of them. Had she so easily forgotten the rationale that had consoled her during the days of his absence? That they were better parted than they could ever be together? “Maybe we're wrong,” she said in a hushed tone, almost surprised to hear her inner fears spoken aloud. “Maybe—”
“Micah…” Rob's voice remained hoarse, slightly husky as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. Then his mouth, still moist from his last taste of iced tea, touched her lips in a kiss, light, provocative and deliberately unsatisfying. “Does it feel wrong to you?” was the quiet question asked before the next contact, equally light and much too brief. No, nothing seemed wrong when she was in his arms. No thoughts, no maybes… only feelings. Feelings that she knew would not be enough to see them through. But her reply was lost as Rob's mouth met hers with the firm, slow kiss she longed for, and her gentle response only made it taste even sweeter and more tender than either had imagined.
What were these feelings stirring inside her? It was too soon for love. Much too soon.
“Micah…” Her name was softly spoken, and her eyes flew open at the ache in his voice. “I—”
She waited endless moments. Did he feel it, too?
“I'd better leave,” he said so quietly she strained to hear his words.
Rob kissed her again, his mouth barely touching the soft hair at her temple. “I'll be back tomorrow…with the rain,” he added without smiling. Then he walked away. Micah listened to the front door close behind him.
Standing in the aching loneliness of her kitchen, she traced a finger lightly across her lips, still warm from his kiss. She had waited all these years for love, real love. But it couldn't be found in the arms of a man she barely knew. Not now; not with Rob. The attorney. That's what Rob Granston was and what he would always be.
“Lord, how could this happen? I've been alone all these years but never really felt lonely until now, when I'm away from Rob. Why now? With this man I can't have?” She sighed and hugged her arms close to her.
She was twenty-eight years old. A grown woman. Had she learned nothing from the past? Nothing from her mother's warnings?