Sam's resistance wavered. He swayed forward slightly before abruptly releasing her. "It would save us both a lot of trouble if you just went ahead and admitted defeat. I could round up a television or a good book, retreat to my cabin, and stay there until Monday."
"Do you really want to do that?"
He couldn't lie. "No. I'm, er...actually kind of enjoying this and can't wait to find out what's next."
Libby laughed. "I'd tell you, but I'm making this up as I go along. I could do a lot better job of it if you'd tell me why you're against honeymoons. It has to be more than your line of work. I know policeman who don't think we're all crooks and doctors who don't think we're all contagious. Surely you know some marriages work."
"A few, maybe."
"More than a few, Sam. So come clean. Why are you so uptight about this? Is it because of your own divorce?"
"Mine...and my parents'." He immediately wondered why he'd opened up to her. As a rule, he kept his personal affairs just that—strictly personal.
"Want to talk about it?"
"No. But you're obviously not going to give me a moment's peace until I do." He took her hand and led her the few steps to a lounge area with an icemaker and vending machines. Sitting on the couch, he motioned for her to join him. "You probably know my parents divorced. I was in the tenth grade. They'd been fighting for years, as long as I can remember, now that I think about it. I was actually glad when Dad finally left."
"I'm so sorry." Libby closed the distance between them to slip her arms around him in a brief hug.
Sam shrugged and swallowed back an unwanted lump of emotion. He hadn't talked about his parent's painful breakup in a very long time, and then only to Ramona, who'd been six when it happened and never really understood how he felt about it. "It was a long time ago. I'm over it now."
"Or not. And what about your divorce? Tell me about that."
"What can I say? I met Claire, we got married, she split."
"I think you left something out," Libby said, crossing her legs and lacing her fingers together around her knee.
Sam frowned. "What's that?"
"Falling in love."
He laughed bitterly. "There's no such thing."
"Then why did you two get married in the first place?"
"The same reason most people get married, regular sex. I was hot-blooded, she was gorgeous."
"Hormones got the best of you, huh?"
"Exactly."
"Well, it's no wonder you two didn't make it. Love, not sex, is the key, Sam—the extra bit of ribbon that holds two people together when life takes you to a breaking point."
"And romance keeps love alive, right?" Sam thought he knew what her answer would be.
"Exactly!" Libby slapped the couch cushion. "I knew you'd catch on if I said it often enough."
"Actually, you've said it several times too many." Sam got to his feet. "And just for the record, I haven't caught on. Monogamy is an unnatural state. It is utterly crazy to expect two people to be happy together their whole lives. Now are we finished? I'd like to take a shower and—"
"Dress for dinner?"
Sam groaned. "Dinner?"
"Uh-huh. Around seven, after our walk by the lake, which is after I show you through one of the cabins we're holding for late arrivals. Newlyweds from Wichita, Kansas."
"I thought you didn't have a plan."
Libby grinned. "It's coming right along."
Knowing there was no use in arguing, he followed her to a cabin nestled among some tall pines. He half listened to her rambling narrative about the renovation of this and that other cabin. His thoughts stayed on their recent conversation. He could've known Libby all his life. It was almost as if she were a long-lost sister or something. Sister? Thank God she wasn't, because his thoughts that afternoon had been far from brotherly.
Minutes later, she stepped onto the wooden porch. He hung back a couple of steps to check her out from behind. Fighting some crazy thoughts, he joined her inside the semi-darkened cabin. Libby flipped on the overhead light, chasing the shadows of dusk to the corners of the room.
Biting back an exclamation of surprised approval, Sam kept his expression neutral while he checked out the rustic living room. There were no polyester bearskins, just hardwood floors and rugs that captured the muted earth tones of the couch, wallpaper, and curtains. A throw pillow and a ginger jar lamp, both the exact shade of the waning sun outside, added a splash of color. The stone fireplace, filled with split logs ready to burn, and the low coffee table, laden with complementary fruit, cheese and wine, lured him to relax and enjoy.
But it wasn't food or wine he craved. It was the taste of Libby's lips, full, slightly parted, and sweeter than any drink. Her eyes sparkled with pride and anticipation of his approval. Sam couldn't deny her.
"Very nice." He refused to commit himself further until he saw the bedroom. He still feared he might discover that heart-shaped waterbed.
But he didn't. That room was decorated just as tastefully, this time in shades of ivory and country blue. It was perhaps a little too frilly for his taste, with the eyelet Priscilla curtains and coverlet, but that was to be expected. A woman—a very feminine woman—had chosen that decor.
Sam eyed the big brass bed, his libido now in overdrive. The covers had been pulled back, revealing softly patterned sheets and pillows. His heart constricted with longing he could never explain or deny. How wonderful it would be to hide here with Libby—kissing, touching. He looked away, wondering why he was so drawn to her. Was it something as simple as her beauty? Was it more complex, like her obvious enthusiasm for her work? Her optimism? The diehard romantic in her?
All of the above, he decided, and wondered what it would be like to come home every night to someone with such a positive outlook on life. He couldn't even imagine it. Claire had never been satisfied and made certain he wasn't, either. He hadn't lied when he said that the two of them had not loved each other.
Love? There was no such thing, just the physical attraction natural between the sexes. And therein lay the danger of Wildwood. A honeymoon hideaway could easily lull a couple into a false sense of well-being. As a result, bills, sickness, and parenting would be that much harder to handle, once back in the stream of life.
Somehow he had to make Libby see the danger of this romantic resort. But how? Their hours together that day had revealed her stubbornness. Words would never convince her.
So I'll find another way.
"Sam? Aren't you going to take a look in here?"
He stuck his head into the huge bathroom and noted it was much like the one in his unit, with a spacious closet, twin marble sinks, a shower, and a hot tub.
Perfect, he thought, aloud murmuring nothing more than another brisk, "Very nice."
Visibly disappointed by his noncommittal comment, Libby still managed a smile. "Thanks." She walked to the door and opened it. "Next up, the lake."
The lake, huh? Maybe he knew how to teach Libby the cold, hard facts of life after all.
It was dusky dark by the time they reached the lake. The evening sky now ranged in color from deep mauve streaked with gold in the west to charcoal gray lightly sprinkled with stars in the East. Libby could almost smell the weather change in the air and hoped the cold front approaching from the northwest wouldn't bring thunderstorms or even one of the tornadoes so frequent during Arkansas springs and autumns.
Pushing that disturbing thought aside, she touched Sam's arm, pointing upward to several snowy-white cattle egrets that had yet to migrate south. He watched in silence as the stork-like birds gracefully descended to the lake and their nests.
"Aren't they amazing?"
He nodded, and slowly walked to the edge of the water, taking in every detail of the newly constructed dock, the fishing and paddleboats. In the middle of the vast lake was an island gazebo, its roof outlined with tiny white twinkle lights.
"Don't tell me, let me guess," Libby said when he opened his mouth, apparently to tell her what he thought. "'Very nice.'"
Sam had the grace to look embarrassed. "Very nice indeed."
She laughed softly at the qualification. "Want to check out the gazebo? We have a paddle boat and another twenty minutes before the sun disappears behind the trees."
"Why not?"
In no time they'd boarded the boat, which resembled an oversized three wheeler. Once seated side-by-side on the narrow seat, they began to pedal. The boat soon responded, and shot away from the shore. Its giant ridged "tires" sprayed water backwards as they churned their way to the gazebo.
Fingers of sunset gold reached across the lake by the time they reached the octagonal structure. Solid wood halfway up and sectioned lattice the rest of the way to the roof, the gazebo was lined all around the inside with a cushioned bench that served as the only seating. They crawled out of the boat to sit together in the semi-dark so they could watch the sunset.
The crickets and tree frogs had begun their nightly serenade. The spell of romance was in the air, heavy and almost tangible. Sam laid his arm across the ledge behind Libby and smiled warmly at her, an expression she cherished since it seemed to say he felt the wonder, too. Sympathetic, she smiled back and let him drop his arm down to pull her closer.
She rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh of contentment. The sun dipped ever lower while they watched in silence. The shadows of evening shifted, purpled, and blanketed them. Chills danced down her arms—chills that had nothing whatsoever to do with the autumn breeze.
Not surprisingly, her mind drifted back to the kisses that had haunted her all afternoon. Hours later, she still hungered for more. Why? He wasn't a man she'd marry, yet here she was, lost in his embrace, aching for him and questioning the philosophy of romantic love she'd followed for years.
Was her self-imposed celibacy the reason?
Sam shifted his body then, turning slightly so his gaze met hers. Even in the dusky dark, she saw the glow in them. With a soft sigh of defeat she gave into her need and stood. After straddling his legs, she framed his face in her hands. She brushed a kiss over his lips.
He grunted in satisfaction, pulled her hard against him, and crushed his lips to hers.
Gasping for air, she tipped her head back. He took advantage of her breathlessness, kissing her chin, her ear, her neck.
Then he had to come up for oxygen, too. His gasp touched her heart. Libby buried her face in his neck. He rested his chin on the top of her head. Neither said a word for several magical moments as reality gradually returned, bringing with it the black of night and the chill of autumn.
Sam released her and reached back to ease free of her embrace. Reluctantly, Libby let him go. Their eyes met; she managed a shaky smile. "Would you call that 'very nice'?"
"No. I'd call that electric."