Rip thought Anna enjoyed making him over once she got into it. He certainly got a charge out of letting her. It was a great boost for his ego, hearing her point out his good points to the guy at the men’s shop. Having her step up to smooth a lapel down his chest or check the fit of a pair of pants at the waist gave him a blast, too, more of one than was strictly comfortable. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice, which made him wonder about the man she had married.
Of course, standing there dressed in whatever she had handed him, while she looked him over like a prize bull, was uncomfortable in other ways. He figured he’d asked for it, though, so he endured it as best he could. To distract himself, he wondered exactly what she was seeing and feeling. And just what it would take to make her appraisal a bit less impersonal.
The insane impulse to stop hiking back and forth to the dressing room and change right there in front of her occupied him for several minutes. He even unbuttoned one of the shirts to the waist and left it open while he worked on the French cuffs. She noticed, too, because he caught her staring. But her vulnerable expression and the wash of color across her cheekbones were a lot harder on him than acting like a male model. He didn’t try that again.
The lady had taste. He had known that, of course, had been counting on it. Not that his own was as bad as he’d made out. Anna’s choice and his were so often the same he stopped placing mental bets on what she’d decide because it was no longer a challenge. They left the store with more clothes than he’d ever owned in his life, but now his wardrobe was set up for whatever might come along.
At the decorator shop, the owner had called in reinforcements in the form of a sleek blond assistant. It felt a bit like two against one to Rip, since the guy was gay, the assistant single and available, and both were not only predatory in a caressing, ultra-agreeable fashion, but seemed to consider him along for the ride. He was about ready to call the evening a washout, until he noticed that Anna didn’t especially like the way the blonde kept touching him with her red talons.
While Anna was preoccupied, he took control. Before the others realized what was happening, he had chosen the earth tones he preferred for his bedroom, and pushed through Anna’s suggestion of a French monotone assemblage in taupe for the sitting room. Then he shoved the wallpaper and drapery books out of the way to get to the food that had been ordered.
Later, with half a fortune cookie still in his hand, he left the others discussing techniques for restoring floors while he moved on to the furniture showroom in the back. The others followed soon after.
“What do you think about this for a bed?” he called to Anna, in part because he wanted to know, but also to entice her away from an antique mahogany monster that would take four men to move and required curtains on the sides.
“It’s Empire style, a fine reproduction piece,” the blond assistant said in authoritative tones as she cut Anna off by sauntering over to wrap her hands around his arm. She tipped her head, giving him a sly glance. “Very Napoleonic and masculine, though the time line is earlier than we’ve been discussing for your house.”
“It’s going in a guest cottage,” Rip replied curtly. “We’ll pretend Great-grandma moved the thing out of her bedroom to make way for something more grand.” He held out his hand to Anna in appeal. “Honey? Will it work?”
“Perfectly, darling,” she drawled, moving in close enough to take his other arm. “Only you’ve got a real one like it in the attic at Blest.”
He untangled himself from the blonde to give Anna his full attention. If his relief at the rescue showed, he didn’t care. “Really? Then maybe we should see what else might be up there before going any further.”
“Good idea,” she said in dry agreement.
He could have kissed her. And needed to desperately as he felt the brush of her hip and thigh against his leg, caught the jasmine scent of her perfume.
He didn’t get the chance. For one thing, it was late by the time they got back to Montrose, too late to do anything except take her straight home. For another, Anna seemed wary and on edge, sitting as far as possible from him and jumping from the car the minute it came to a halt. He unfolded his long frame and got out, walking around to see her to the door.
“About tomorrow,” he began as they stopped on the front porch.
“If you’ve had second thoughts, I certainly understand.”
He paused, startled. “Do you now?”
“It’s bound to be uncomfortable for you—facing old friends.”
“Your old friends. They were never more than acquaintances of mine.”
“All the more reason to wait a bit before plunging into the social swing.”
“I don’t want to wait. In fact, the sooner the better. I’d like to get out as much as possible.”
The glance she gave him was unhappy before she looked away. “You can’t expect to take up every minute of my time.”
“We had an agreement,” he reminded her, his voice even.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded, her eyes flashing in the dim light. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“I think I made that clear enough. But if you need a reminder…”
“No,” she said hastily.
“You’ve decided you don’t want to be seen with me, after all?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“It isn’t ridiculous! You’d be surprised how many women have discovered that being with me in public is one thing, but seeing me privately is something else again. Or vice versa.”
“I’m not other women! I just—don’t want you to get hurt.”
She had said something similar before. The idea that she might really be concerned made his heart swell until it crowded his chest. “Don’t worry, I’m tougher than I look.”
The glance she gave him was scathing. “Then you must be positively armor-plated.”
“Practically. Look, what is this? Is it about what was going on tonight at the decorator’s?”
Her chin came up. “If you think I’m jealous because that woman was rubbing all over you like a cat in heat, you can think again.”
“What I thought,” he said, keeping his face straight to hide his triumph, “is that you might have objected to being called ‘honey.’”
“Oh. Well, I knew you didn’t mean it.”
Didn’t he, now? “I also thought,” he continued while he was ahead, “that you might come over Saturday morning and help me find Napoleon’s bed.”
“Napoleonic era bed,” she corrected him while staring distractedly over his shoulder. “He never slept in it.”
“Well, I intend to. If I can find it.” He waited for her response.
“I don’t see what good having me there is going to serve, since nobody will be around to see us.”
“You’re supposed to be helping me restore Blest, and my bedroom is where I aim to start. Clear?”
“Saturday morning, then, all right,” she agreed without enthusiasm.
“Good. About tomorrow night, what time shall I pick you up?”
“The barbecue starts at seven, but you don’t have to do that. I can—”
“I want to do it. Be ready at a quarter till.” He made it an order. He was pushing, but it was important she realize he meant business.
The look she gave him should have singed his five o’clock shadow. He didn’t mind, since he recognized it as a signal of defeat. When she turned on her heel and went into the house, he let her go without protest. He stayed where he was until he saw a light come on, then turned back toward his car. As he walked, he stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled softly to himself.
“You used to be quite a ball player in the old days, Rip. It’s a shame you never got the chance to go professional. You might have made a success at it, earned some real money.”
Anna looked around as Kingsly “King” Beecroft spoke. The words he’d used were innocent enough—even complimentary taken by themselves—but his smile was superior and his tone patronizing. King, who’s name had been shortened in grammar school, was top man at a local cotton-seed mill, a position that gave him considerable standing in town. A former jock and football All-American from an old Montrose family, he was self-satisfied to the point of arrogance.
If Anna had known the other couple invited to Sally Jo’s barbecue was King and Patty, she’d never have accepted the invitation for herself, much less Rip.
The contrast between him and Rip was striking. King was going to seed, his hair thinning, his body thickening, the lines of his face becoming fleshy and without definition, while Rip was as fit as ever, and conceded only a few lines and the bolder stamp of his features to maturity. King appeared full of his own importance, which only served to point up Rip’s quiet confidence.
Their old schoolmate had as good as insulted Rip with his crass comment. Now he had the nerve to sit there smiling while he waited to see what Rip would do about it.
Rip laughed, saying easily, “Sports were never a big deal for me. I doubt I’d have lasted long.”
Did he know, Anna wondered, that King had not made the grade in professional football. If so, his answer was a neat return for King’s dig while still keeping the gathering civilized. From the way King was turning red, however, it looked as if he might upset Sally Jo’s party. Anna wasn’t averse to running interference.
Her gaze steady on the blond man’s face, she asked, “Real money, King? I wonder just how you define that?”
“Lots of athletes walk away with several million,” he said with barely a glance in her direction, as if he resented Anna joining what had been, until that moment, a strictly male discussion.
“Limp away, you mean,” she returned in dry disparagement. “Rip, on the other hand, realized that kind of profit from his company in California without a single bone broken.”
A stunned look appeared on King’s face. Swinging to face Rip he demanded, “That right? You pocketed millions?”
“I’d rather not talk money, if you don’t mind,” Rip said with a flashing glance in Anna’s direction. “Bad manners, you know.”
Was it a rebuke, or was he laughing at her for rushing to his defense? She didn’t know. Still, she tried to send the subject in a different direction. “High school seems so long ago, doesn’t it?”
“Longer for some than others, I’d imagine,” King answered, “depending on how they spent the time.”
“If you’re talking about me,” Rip said, his gaze level, “then you’re right.”
Sally Jo, petite, vivacious and a nervous type, jumped up from where she sat next to Anna. Her voice edgy, she said, “I think I’d better go check on the meat Why don’t you freshen everyone’s drinks, Billy.”
“I’ll do that,” her husband said heartily. “Another long one for you, Rip?”
Rip declined with thanks. Anna accepted more ice, but that was all. King and Patty, a buxom blonde who helped Mother Nature with artful streaks, allowed themselves to be persuaded, which seemed to be a relief to Billy Holmes as it gave him something to do.
They were seated on the patio—a free-form stretch of concrete with an incised design of concentric shell-like circles resembling some of Europe’s cobblestone squares. The open space was set with large pots of ferns and impatiens, while a glossy-leafed gardenia nearby sent its fragrance drifting on the warm evening air, competing with the rich aroma of grilling ribs and sausage. At the opposite end, a glass-topped table was set with brightly colored dinnerware and linens, and Italian pottery bowls held citronella candles that had been lit to keep flies and mosquitoes at bay.
A green swath of lawn swept from the patio down to the lake’s edge where a gazebo sat out over the water. The soft breeze off the water stirred the somnolent air, cooling it a few degrees. The surface of the lake rippled, reflecting the last salmon-gold light of the setting sun with the look of hammered copper.
The lake lay on the edge of town, in an area that had once been a swampy wilderness of duckweed, cattails and willows. Developers had moved in some ten years before, draining the swamp, shrinking the lake and creating housing with high price tags because of the water view. The town had slowly taken in the area until it had completely lost its wild aspect and become another manicured community development with all the personality and excitement of a millpond.
Patty Beecroft, shaking the ice in her drink to chill it, said, “I hear you’re going to redo Blest, Rip. That’s a mighty big project for a bachelor.”
“Which is why I called in expert help,” he said, and smiled at Anna.
“Oh, I see. That makes sense.”
“Sounds to me as if you’ll need every dollar you earned,” King said sourly. “How’d you do it, anyway? Steal a computer chip copyright, or something?”
“King!” his wife exclaimed in horror.
“Now hold on here.” That came at the same time from Billy, who stood in front of the portable minibar with a highball in his hand. A tall man with a hangdog face and knobby knees exposed by walking shorts, he’d always seemed to Anna an odd match for Sally Jo.
The suggestion indicated plainly that King had been aware of the source of Rip’s success, if not his method of achieving it. It also showed that he was spoiling for a fight. That Rip realized this was plain from the stiffness of his shoulders and the deliberate way he faced him.
“If you have a problem with me being here,” he said quietly to King, “then you’d better spit it out.”
The other man sat forward in his chair, a pugnacious twist to his face. “My problem is with you being anywhere within a hundred miles. Tom was a friend of mine.”
“He was my friend, too.”
“But he’s gone because of you.”
“Now, King…” Billy began.
Rip ignored his host. “That’s a guess,” he said in hard tones. “No one knows where he went, Or why.”
“We can be pretty sure, though, about who was behind it.”
“King!” Patty cried. A flush mantled her face that had nothing to do with the drink in her hand.
Rip set his long-necked beer on a side table. “Then you know more than I do. It makes me wonder why you didn’t stop him, didn’t help him when he got into drugs.”
“No one could.” King breathed harder through his nose while his face turned a darker shade of red.
“Exactly. Anyway, I did my time and now I’m starting over, if people in Montrose will let me.”
“You started over in California. You should have stayed there.” The words were more rude than belligerent.
“This is my home, the place I intend to spend the rest of my days. Whether you like it or not.”
Sally Jo came hurrying up then, her dark hair on end and her piquant face crumpled as if she were going to cry. Looking from one man to the other, she said, “Dinner’s ready.”
For an instant it appeared that King might decline to share a table with Rip, then he got to his feet and moved to help his wife out of her chair. Anna rose and took Rip’s arm, and they all moved toward the feast laid out for them.
It was the most uncomfortable meal Anna had endured in some time. She barely tasted the succulent spareribs or the German potato salad, the molasses-baked beans or the poppy seed coleslaw. The dessert of fresh peach sorbet was delectable, but wasted since she could barely manage three bites. All her concentration was on helping Sally Jo keep the small talk flowing while making small asides to keep Rip apprised of who they were talking about, or what new development in town was involved.
At one point, Sally Jo brought up Little League ball, which was in full swing. Her son was on a winning team, it appeared, and his grandmother had taken him and his sister to a fast-food place that evening to celebrate his recent home run. In the middle of the general congratulations, King said to Rip, “You never played Little League, did you?”
“Couldn’t afford it,” Rip answered as he pushed his half-full sorbet dish aside.
“I thought Tom’s old man bought you a uniform.”
Rip sighed as he looked up finally. “My dad made me take it back. He didn’t like the idea of accepting charity.”
“That didn’t keep him from sponging drinks at every dive for miles around, though, did it?”
Anna had had enough. “What is it with you, King?” she asked, her voice sharp. “What are you trying to prove?”
“Nothing…except I don’t intend to suck up to anybody for the sake of a few cheap murals and a rat-infested firetrap of an old house. It takes more than fistfuls of money to make a man acceptable in this town.”
“What does it take, then, tell me that?” she demanded. “Incredible discourtesy and a fine opinion of yourself? Total lack of concern for how other people feel, including your hostess? Where do you get off, appointing yourself as mouthpiece for people here?”
“It’s better than turning into some other kind of piece for a jailbird!”
Rip surged to his feet. He dropped his napkin on the table and braced his hands on either side of it as he leaned toward King. “Listen to me, because I don’t intend to repeat myself. You can say anything you like about me and it will make no difference. I’ve heard it all before from business competitors and yellow journalists far better at name-calling and innuendo than you’ll ever be. But say a single word more about the lady with me, and I’ll knock your teeth out and shove them down your throat one by one. Have you got that?”
King licked his lips, running his tongue over his teeth. He glanced around at the set faces of the others. Finally, he ducked his head in a stiff nod.
“Good.” Rip turned to Sally Jo. “My apologies for ruining your barbecue. That wasn’t my intention. Perhaps you’ll let me make it up to you once Blest is ready for company.”
“We’re the ones who are sorry that you had to be insulted in our house,” she said with a glance at her husband. “Aren’t we, Billy?”
“That we are,” he mumbled, though he was clearly uncomfortable at being caught in the middle of the blowup.
“No problem,” Rip said as he straightened. “It wasn’t your fault.” Turning toward Anna, he lifted a brow.
She was already on her feet. Her appreciation for his self-control and innate dignity could not have been greater. Where he had learned it, she didn’t know, but it made the other men look puny and ineffectual by contrast.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Sally Jo went with them to the front drive where Rip’s BMW was parked. “Please,” she said, putting her hand on Rip’s arm, “don’t think everyone in Montrose is like King, because they aren’t. I didn’t know he would…well, anyway, I’m going to tell people you’re as nice a person as I’ve met in a long time, and they should let what’s past stay in the past.”
“I couldn’t ask for more,” he said with a slow smile. Turning away, he moved around to help Anna into the car, then he got in and drove away.
Anna leaned back in her seat with a long sigh. “That wasn’t one of my better ideas.”
“Don’t you start apologizing,” Rip said shortly. “King always was a minor pain in the backside. It’s no surprise he’s turned into a major one.”
“If I’d known he was going to be there—”
“Let it go. Just forget it. Please.”
It was a relief to comply. They were both quiet while Rip negotiated the narrow and twisting road that followed the shoreline of the lake. Then abruptly he slowed and took a sharp turn. A few seconds later, he pulled up at a public boat dock, parking within a few feet of where the surrounding woods came down to the water’s edge.
The wide, blacktop parking area was deserted, lighted only by a series of mercury lamps around the outer edges. Its concrete boat ramp slanted down toward the water, fading into the, darkness. Beyond the circle of light, the lake shone placid and unchanging, gilded with the light of the rising moon.
Rip got out of the car and walked toward the boat ramp to stand staring out over the water with his hands thrust into his pockets. After a moment, Anna opened her door and followed him. He seemed to pay no attention to her, didn’t turn as she came closer. He spoke in quiet tones as she stopped beside him.
“This used to be the swimming hole.”
She made a sound of agreement. “They dredged it out and built the ramp maybe five years ago.”
“Seems a shame.”
“A beach was left over there.” She nodded toward the manufactured stretch of sand farther along from where they stood.
He made no answer for long moments, then he said, “I want to thank you for speaking up for me back there.”
She shrugged a little without answering.
“Tom used to do the same thing,” he went on. “He got into fistfights more than once from fighting my battles.”
“You did the same.”
“He carried me all the way to his house on his back once when I sprained my ankle. It wasn’t easy, since I was bigger.”
“I know.” Rip had been so pale when she saw him that for a terrifying instant she’d thought he was dead. “I also recall the time you waded in when Tom and I were in the middle of a brawl with a bunch of bullies over school lunch money.”
“You jumped in to help him. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”
She’d suspected that was it, but hadn’t known until now, so many years later. Her Galahad in torn jeans. He’d gotten a cracked rib, Tom had sported a shiner for a week and she’d been the proud owner of a split lip, but they had kept their lunch money.
“I was grounded for a month over that little fracas because my mother thought girls shouldn’t fight. What it taught me was that girls shouldn’t get caught at it.”
He laughed, a pained sound. “We used to come to the lake to clean up before going to your house.”
“Among other things,” she said, allowing her voice to relax into amusement. They’d also gone swimming, cavorting in the water like puppies, or matching movements and strokes like a precision team as they pretended to be a school of fish numbering three. Then there had been the other times, before she turned into a young lady and become much too aware of the differences between herself and her two best friends, Rip and Tom.
“You’re thinking about our swimming parties? I’d have worn trunks if I’d had any.”
“You set a style in your blue jean shorts haggled off with a knife, just as you did with your Levi’s and white T-shirts when everyone else was wearing designer names on their backsides. But that isn’t exactly what was on my mind.” She sent him a quick, amused glance.
“What? You going in starkers, all by yourself?” He turned his head, a corner of his mouth tipped in a grin, but his gaze was so steady she could see the moonlight off the water reflected in the dark surfaces of his eyes.
“You saw me?”
“Watched you as long as I dared, then stood guard so nobody else could get a peek.”
“You didn’t!” the breeze off the dark lake lifted her hair, so she could feel its coolness on her hot face.
“You have a mole, just here.”
He reached out to touch her rib cage beneath her right breast, putting his fingertip unerringly on the small spot he mentioned. She drew a quick, startled breath.
“I have a good memory,” he said dryly, before he took his hand away and pushed it into his pants pocket. “Anyway, don’t sound so shocked. You did the same thing.”
She had. The thrill of it was one of her most vivid memories. If she closed her eyes, she could still see him like some young god, cleaving the water with strong, sure strokes while sunlight glistened on his dark head and along the muscled length of his arms and shoulders. Her vision of what a man should look like had been forever shaped by his taut, hard grace, the clean, powerful lines of his chest and thighs, the length and shape of him.
He would have filled out more now, she was sure, gaining strength and brawn. Becoming bolder. Harder.
She dragged her thoughts back under control. With a quick, wondering shake of her head, she said, “You knew all the time and never said a word. I don’t know how you can still think I’m any kind of lady.”
“Well,” he drawled, “you were quiet enough about it.”
“That’s supposed to be the difference,” she asked with a slow grin, “A lady doesn’t make noise about…things?”
“So I figured. Or a gentleman. I’m good at learning by example, see.”
His smile wiped the strain from his features, took the stiffness from his voice. Anna felt her heart lift at that evidence that he was no longer brooding on the evening just past. In an effort to keep thoughts of it at bay, she said, “My mother wouldn’t agree with you. She heard Tom teasing me about seeing you, you know. That time, I had to stay in my room for two solid days. It was weeks before I heard the end of it.”
“She cured you of the habit, did she? I wondered why you suddenly stopped.”
“She made me feel wicked, if that’s what you mean, but I don’t know about the rest. Being contrary in all things, I think she may have just made wet, naked men irresistible for me.”
He laughed, a soft chuckle deep in his throat. “Now why is it, do you suppose, that I have this sudden urge to go swimming.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“We’re two grown people. There’s nothing to keep us from it.” The words were edged with laughter, yet backed by equal parts of daring and persuasion.
She tilted her head, watching him closely. “You don’t mean it.”
“You don’t think so?”
“We’d get caught. It’s crazy.”
“So be crazy for a change.”
“We—we couldn’t.” The protest in her voice was no longer as strong.
“Why not?” he asked simply.
The temptation was incredibly strong. Just thinking of it made her skin feel parched and in need of the wet caress of sun-warmed water, made her heart lurch into a faster, more primitive rhythm. Longing began in the center of her stomach and spread outward in a tingling tide. It would be like returning to the past, to a more basic, better time when her affection for the man at her side had been as strong and deep as that for her brother, an immutable part of her life that she’d thought would never change.
Perhaps it hadn’t.
Rip watched the indecision and longing mirrored in Anna’s face and felt his insides draw with a painful intensity. She was so alluring there in the darkness with the moonlight highlighting the bones of her face and the mystery in her eyes. The need to have this moment with her was an ache with such bite and power that he thought it might stop his heart.
It wasn’t the urge to see her naked, or even to lead her into some more risqué watery adventure, though he wouldn’t mind those things. Rather, it was the need to have her abandon all her hard-learned precepts and inhibitions, to cast off the strictures and rules that circumscribed her life and join him in his element, his life on the outer fringe of acceptance. He wanted her to choose him over her upbringing, over the hidebound, narrow-minded types like her mother and King Beecroft. He tried to think of some argument that might convince her, but could come up with only one.
“I won’t touch you. That’s a promise.”
Her lashes flickered, but she didn’t look away from him. She hesitated, moistening her lips with her tongue.
Then with slow deliberation, she reached up to unfasten the back of her polished cotton sundress. The deep neckline gaped, exposing more of the creamy skin that had been driving him half nuts all evening.
He glanced around, then gestured toward the beach area and deeper shadows of the trees above it. For himself, it didn’t matter, but he wanted no unpleasant repercussions for Anna, in spite of his challenge.
He shed his clothes in a few quick moves, keeping his back turned for the most part, though his peripheral vision took in mind-blowing glimpses of enticing curves, inviting shadows. Then he took a few running strides and hit the water in a shallow dive, swimming submerged for long seconds to give Anna a chance to join him without embarrassment.
The gliding water cooled his hot skin, soothed his tried temper. The feel of it triggered brief memories of other days, of Tom. Anna’s brother had been so full of life and devilment, clever and clownish by turns, quick to anger but just as quick to get over it. He and Rip had played and fought, shared clothes and food and chewing gum, BB guns and bandages for their injuries. Conscientious, afraid of nothing except the disapproval of his mother and father, Tom had been a real friend and a brother in all but name. There had been times when Rip wished with desperate fervor that Tom could really be his brother, and Anna his little sister.
He’d changed his mind about the last toward the end.
Surfacing with a quick upward stroke, Rip turned to his back and glanced toward the shoreline. Anna was just wading into the water, moving with unconscious grace while the moonlight turned her body into pale marble, like a living, breathing statue: gently rounded breasts, not large but beautifully proportioned to the smooth flare of her hips; flat belly with delineating shadows arrowing toward the shimmering, gold-touched triangle of fleece at the apex of her slender thighs; face sublime, upturned to the bathing light of the moon and eyes closed to savor the lake’s wet, lapping caress.
He hadn’t promised not to look.
Forgetting to tread water, he submerged and came up again with a soundless sputter. When he spotted Anna once more, she was swimming toward him, flowing with the water in near silent movement. It was as if her molecules were as fluid as the elements around her and she’d become a part of it, merged with it.
The need to meet her, to take her here, now, in a surging, liquid plunge, hit him so fast he felt the blood rush from his head to coalesce, hot and driving, in the lower part of his body. He gasped with it, fought it. Won, by the hardest.
No, she must come to him. That was the only way it was going to work. Now or ever.
As she neared him, she swirled to a stop with at least six feet of water separating them. Her gray gaze held glints of silver; her smile was tentative. He angled away from her, easing into a slow crawl. After an instant, she joined him on a parallel course. They matched stroke for stroke, breath for breath, reaching, pulling in concert down the shining path of the moonlight. The water coursed along their bodies, glided over sensitive nipples, sucked at their armpits, passed between their legs in a swelling current. They turned to their backs, breathing fast and deep so their chests rose and fell and their hearts raced, throbbing in their ears. The night air kissed their wet skin with coolness, shivered along their nerve endings so that goose bumps pebbled the surface. Turning once more, they reached, again and again, for the distant, retreating moon.
They didn’t gain it. Turning, empty-handed and tired, they swam back toward the shore. Silently, without looking at each other, they left the water, dried as best they could and donned their clothes over their clinging skin.
Rip stood for a moment, staring at nothing while he waited for Anna to finish putting herself back together. This had been a bad idea, he thought. Sublime in its way, yes, but dumb overall.
He wouldn’t take anything for the last half hour, but he wouldn’t be doing it again. It strained impulses that were already stretched, made them extra dangerous. Too much was at stake to take such chances, no matter how gratifying the experience.
A stir beside him signaled that Anna was ready. He reached to put a hand on her arm as support in case she stumbled in the dark. As she flinched, he drew back and curled his fingers into a fist.
Together, they walked the few steps to the car. As he moved at her side, a single, endless refrain pounded in his brain like a vow.
No more promises. No more promises…