Sunburst

by Jennifer Greene

  “You certainly weren’t.”

  “You never listened.” She remembered the long speech she had made about morals and commitments and let’s get to know each other first… She’d kept on talking right through the morning she awakened next to him in bed. Horrified. Except for Morgan, Kyle had had no equal as a man of many conquests. But where Morgan was concerned, even a much younger Erica had guessed intuitively that there was an ego involved, that he thought of women as notches on a belt. With Kyle, she had instinctively given trust and yet wondered if she was being foolish. Her suspicions were misplaced; he made it more than clear that she was the only woman who mattered to him. His aim was not to conquer or to add notches to his belt but to fill a physical and emotional need. From the beginning, and every time they were together.

  He stopped the car in a wooded glen that bordered an immense field of wheat, waist-high for as far as the eye could see. The sun and the clouds were still waging their little war in the sky. The clouds were bunched-up charcoal masses clotted with rain, and a whisper of a breeze stirred their promise, but the sun was still hot, still stronger in the battle for the moment.

  Kyle stood outside the car looking up as she made her way to his side. The birds and squirrels, so noisy in the morning, were silent, as if all the animals were napping at this time in the afternoon. A soft rush of whispering leaves encouraged a sense of privacy. Kyle looked down at her and took her hand as they walked out of sight from the car and road, down an old farmer’s path that was overgrown. She hadn’t the least notion where they were.

  He bent to whisper in her ear. “I think you have the same thing on your mind as I have, Mrs. McCrery. There isn’t a soul for miles around.”

  “What exactly is it that you have on your mind?” she asked suspiciously, laughter golden in her eyes as she glanced at him.

  He sank onto a grassy spot in the shadow of a gnarled old hickory, lying flat on his back with his knees up, and rooted out a long blade of grass to stick in his teeth, making a whistle of it. She shook her head ruefully at him, settling down beside him on her knees. “First, as I said, I want to hear about this trip of yours. You’re all but bubbling over!”

  She was. For a woman who had barely been able to balance a checkbook a short time ago, she was one sky-high bubble of happiness at discovering the satisfaction of real accomplishment. She talked for twenty minutes, churning out a dozen ideas on how she wanted to set up displays, on what she needed from Kyle in the way of carpentry work to accomplish it. The marketing was her arena; for the first time since they moved here, she felt like an equal partner, with a chance to help build the McCrery enterprise into something they could both be proud of. Advertising was an automatic spin-off of the display work. “We haven’t even begun to touch the rich folks who vacation on Lake Michigan, and Madison’s an affluent little city. We were talking about taking on do-it-yourselfers, Kyle…and I thought we could expand into crafts as well-quilts and crewelwork and needlepoint; they blend with wood and add depth and color to a display. If we could find a few local women who already…”

  “You know,” he interrupted finally, “I like that blouse.” He fingered the gauzy material between two fingers, studying the fabric intently. “It gives the illusion that you can see it all, and then it doesn’t keep the promise. Even when you were standing full in sunlight, the flesh underneath was just shadowy-you don’t mind if I check it out in a little more detail? Keep talking,” he urged her politely. “I knew damn well you’d have a gift for setting up a classy showroom, lady. You get full applause for every idea so far.”

  She tried, but she seemed to be having an increasing difficulty following the thread of her own conversation. He propelled her flat on her back. Her strawberry-blond hair fanned out on the mossy grass behind her, and her golden eyes began to laugh up at his. He was very professorlike, gravely verifying that there were shoulders and breasts and ribs within the gossamer fabric, not just shadowy promises. “I can’t believe how far you’ve progressed on the building in just two days, Kyle. You’re going to be done in another week, aren’t you? Here I’ve been selfishly rambling on, and I never even asked you about things here-”

  “I changed my mind,” he said severely. “I don’t like this blouse at all.” He raised her up, ordered her to lift her arms above her head, slipped the creamy summer material over her head, and promptly allowed it to decorate a bush. “Now is there some reason we need this?” He pointed to the lacy bit of bra. “I can’t think of a reason in hell…”

  “What if someone comes by?” The demurral was halfhearted, and he knew it.

  “I have every intention of keeping you covered, lady…”

  His lips were so warm, so soft from the sun, the scent of grass, the ripple of the light breeze, the perfume of the wheat so intoxicating. It seemed to Erica that their loving had never had so much sweetness, so much urgency, so much sheer uninhibited joy.

  They were both laughing as they stood up to take off the rest of their clothes, but their exuberant laughter had faded to something soft and secret, like a sound only the two of them could hear. When the clothes were gone, there was a moment when neither made a move to touch the other. Kyle stood, allowing Erica’s eyes to sweep over his tall, bronzed form without shyness, as his own gaze took in, savored, loved her smaller feminine frame.

  No man has a more beautiful body than you do. Did you know that? Would you like me to shout it out…?

  Every inch, Erica. Lord, I want you. Just as you are, this very instant…

  They spoke with their eyes. They spoke in the way their lips joined, the way they both felt an identical sensual rush when their bodies finally touched. His hard thighs were pressed against her softer ones; her breasts swelled and tightened against his warm chest, and his skin…such supple skin beneath her kneading hands, which slid from the breadth of his shoulders to his taut male buttocks. He warmed beneath her hands, responsive to her every touch.

  His lips left hers to trail down to her throat, silk-soft kisses that made her heart skip beats, that seemed to drug her into the illusion that she had left the ground. She had. Rather than bending, he lifted her playfully to kiss where he wanted, so that his face was level with her throat and then her breasts as he lifted her high, higher. Her legs wrapped around his waist for balance, and a husky sound escaped from her throat, half joyful laughter and half a helpless little groan as his lips burrowed between her breasts, his strong arms arching her back to offer the full satin flesh to his mouth. He raised her higher yet, pressing a kiss to her navel and then lower, his cheek brushing in that soft, curly triangle as she felt the crazy sensation of being weightless, higher than life, higher than breath.

  When her toes touched the mossy earth again, there was still no sensation of reality. The spirit of soaring was intensified by the look in his eyes, by that deep turquoise brightness that came with loving, compelling tenderness. In some vague way, she was aware they were no longer standing but kneeling, then lying together on the soft moss. Her senses inhaled the shudder of need that racked Kyle’s whole body, the husky whispers of loving in her ears, the surge that encompassed both of them as limbs suddenly feverishly tangled with limbs, neither of them wanting to rush and both of them in such a desperate hurry…

  “Kyle…”

  “How I love to see you happy, Erica. I’m going to take you so high you’ll never come down…” He arched over her supple form, covering her, his kiss drowning the moaning cry in her throat when he joined with her. She felt so much love in his giving…

  When the rain started falling, it made no difference at all, the soft, warm drops falling on skin that was already slippery. The scents around them intensified as if to prove that they were in another world. She almost hurt from so much love, a bursting joy within her, so loud that the thunder seemed quiet. She touched the sun and then seemed to explode…

  Still he held her, rocking her back and forth until her heart stopped hammering, until they could both breathe normally again. />
  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  She already felt that. He’d already told her, in the best way a man can tell a woman. She just looked at him. Rain was streaming down; his face was damp, his hair curling wildly-he was blinking the water from his eyes. There were bits of grass on his neck and shoulders and a near carpet of it on his back.

  He helped her up and shook his head at both of them as he took in her own appearance. “How the hell am I going to put you back together so we can be seen in public again?” he growled in mock irritation, almost having to shout above the sound of the storm. He glanced up at the skies. “We have to be crazy!”

  He tried to brush the grass off her back but the task was hopeless; the grass stuck to his fingers and her skin. Her bra refused to snap for him; her blouse, now soaked, did not want to go back on. She knew her hair was a wet tangle of grass, yet all she could do was look at him, her laughter part of the joy inside that just would not let her come back down to earth. Her eyes were a rich, dark gold, that certain sheen of color reserved for only one man’s cache of treasures.

  Chapter 6

  Morgan was waiting for them.

  The late afternoon remained stormy, and the lights in the house were on. Erica was still laughing, Kyle pushing her ahead of him to hustle both of them out of the rain, although it was obvious there was nothing to hurry for-they were both soaked, cold and grass-stained. Erica was well aware that her hair was irretrievably matted and that her blouse was probably ruined with snags and blotches of green. She couldn’t have cared less…

  Morgan was standing rock-still when Kyle closed the door behind them, locking out a distant crash of thunder. The bright lights in the kitchen heralded the fact that it was past their normal dinner hour. Morgan had started the meal for them. So thoughtful of him…but when Erica glanced up, she saw Morgan’s eyes narrowed on both of them, a grim expression on his face, that startled her from their laughter.

  It must have been obvious what they had been doing. She shivered unconsciously, feeling the unwanted heat of embarrassment in her cheeks even as she glanced at Kyle. “We didn’t mean to be late,” she said in a rush. “We just went out for a little walk…”

  “Yes, Erica,” Morgan said mockingly. He winked lewdly at Kyle, and she felt a wave of sheer distaste. Kyle appeared to ignore the wink as he offered her first crack at the shower and poured himself a glass of brandy.

  She took the stairs two at a time. In the bathroom, she quickly discarded her damp clothes and turned on the hot water in the shower until the room was steaming. The pelting hot water soothed away the chill, yet she could not rid herself so easily of the resentment and annoyance she felt toward Morgan. She reminded herself how much help he was giving Kyle as she stepped out of the shower and enfolded herself in a thick, bright towel. She reminded herself, too, how much she cared for him, what a good friend he was…but she so desperately wanted to be alone with Kyle tonight! Since the building project had started, they had had a chance to put things back together, to reestablish communication, but Morgan always seemed to be there. They had had to steal away from their own home this afternoon…

  By the time Kyle mounted the stairs, Erica had the hair dryer on full blast, a warm terry-cloth jumpsuit covering every inch of her in burnt orange. He said nothing, not that she could have heard anything over the whine of the dryer. Not, for that matter, that she would have said anything about Morgan…

  She had never complained about Morgan in the past. These days, she thought fleetingly as she applied blusher and lipstick, Morgan was Mr. Consideration, all warmth and affection. It had not been that way when she first met him, at a time when he and Kyle had shared both a house and a reputation that would have put wolves on the kitty-cat list. The way Morgan used to look at her, the knowing expression that she saw on his face every time Kyle wasn’t looking.

  Morgan’s bedroom should have had a revolving door; he certainly had no right to judge anyone else, but actually it wasn’t judgment she saw in his eyes-only a comprehension that had mortified her. He seemed to look at her and speculate about how it was with her and Kyle. She would have felt foolish telling Kyle of her unease around his best friend, and it wasn’t as if she’d felt ashamed.

  She wasn’t ashamed. She was in love with Kyle, and if she worried constantly that it had all happened too fast and too powerfully, those thoughts never diminished her love. Kyle wasn’t looking for a child, and she had grown up, learned to look Morgan in the eye, wearing her love like a shield and her pride in that love like a cloak.

  With one last flick of the brush, she finished dressing and headed back downstairs determinedly. Morgan had a glass of brandy waiting for her. He was wearing a charcoal short-sleeved shirt and lighter gray pants, the image of a manual laborer instantly dissolved by the skill and costliness of his tailor. Their conversation was stilted as they finished the preparations for dinner and waited for Kyle.

  As she sipped at the brandy, Erica noticed hollows of weariness beneath Morgan’s eyes, and felt foolish for her uneasiness. Stop this, she scolded herself finally. Stop being so…silly. She found a smile for him, her real one, and the social graces to put him at ease. It occurred to her that he might not be comfortable in his position, as a third wheel. She did not have to remind herself again how hard he had been working-and only because he cared about her and Kyle.

  Yet her nerves prickled uneasily once more when Kyle came back down, his damp hair curling at the edges of his collar, his pale blue shirt heightening the color of his eyes. He refilled his brandy glass before he sat down at the table, and for a moment Erica was afraid the easy laughter was gone; there was a hint of brooding stillness in him when he glanced at Morgan.

  Then it was gone, just that quickly. Morgan brought platters to the table with a flourish that announced a gourmet delight. It was impossible to tell what he would come up with when he was given free rein in the kitchen. Tonight the menu was Chinese-chicken, pea pods and peppers in a tangy-sweet sauce, rice and a salad she could guess Kyle’s reaction to, with sprouts, fresh mushrooms, some sort of raw fish.

  “It looks delicious,” Erica hurriedly assured Morgan.

  “When are you going home so I can have my cook back, Morgan?” Kyle questioned blandly.

  Morgan only chuckled. “Listen, McCrery, you can’t survive exclusively on meat and potatoes. I’ve been trying to expand your tastes ever since we were in school together.”

  “Don’t buy that,” Kyle told Erica. “When we roomed together, he volunteered to do the cooking if I’d do the general cleanup. If I’d known I was going to end up the sacrificial lamb as a result of that arrangement…” He shook his head. “I can remember the first ‘flaming’ dish he put on. Or put out, to be more accurate. The effect was wasted on his redhead of the moment. We ate smoke for a week.”

  Erica chuckled.

  “You’re out of your mind,” Morgan informed him. “I get sole credit for the fact that you’re alive today, McCrery. You were trying to survive on four hours’ sleep and potato chips.”

  “The only time I was sick in four years was the day you tried out that Indian curry. You’d have thought we’d been drinking contaminated water.”

  “It wasn’t that bad-”

  “You were sicker than I was.”

  Erica relaxed, familiar with their baiting of each other. Thunder crashed outside, lightning streaked a flight of stairs in the sky. She got up to close the long curtains at the front windows. When she returned to the table, she picked up her fork again, only to hear an insistent scratching at the back door. She did her best to ignore it. Blessedly, neither of the men seemed to hear anything. She was relieved to hear them bickering normally; at times lately, they seemed to have less and less in common with each other…

  When her plate was empty, Erica got up as if her sole purpose were to set it on the counter. The counter, of course, was a stone’s throw from the back door. The cat was inside before anyone could notice-if the creature had only had the
sense not to leap directly for Kyle. Morgan burst out laughing.

  Nuisance, she had named the animal, and truthfully the feline looked as good as she was ever going to look after all Erica’s care. The cat was much fatter, her coat almost healthy-looking… But not now. Drenched, Nuisance resembled an oversized rat. Kyle glared down beneath the table, as the cat promptly wound itself damply around his legs.

  “She likes you,” Erica said lamely. “Kyle, I couldn’t just leave her out in the rain.”

  She quickly set down a saucer of milk to divert the cat, but Nuisance was already roaring a thunderous purr on Kyle’s now-damp stockinged feet. He glanced again under the table and gave a mock shudder of disgust for Morgan’s benefit.

  “Cheer up,” Morgan advised. “They say you can at least temporarily ward off a woman’s maternal urges if you get her a pet. I have a feeling you two wouldn’t exactly appreciate a baby right now. A cat’s a hell of a lot cheaper.”

  Something changed; Erica couldn’t define it. Kyle leaned back lazily in his chair, eyes riveted on Morgan. “Why on earth would you have the feeling we wouldn’t welcome a baby right now?”

  Morgan shrugged. “Well, obviously, financially…”

  Kyle shoved his half-full plate away from him, shaking his head mockingly at Morgan. “Sorry, Shane, but one baby wouldn’t be any more problem than one cat, financially or in any other way,” he said shortly, and gave another wry shake of his head at Nuisance, who was staring up at him adoringly. “Though Erica would have to find the mangiest feline in the whole country to take on. I had hoped she could keep her secret a little longer. I have a continual nightmare that, given the least encouragement, she’d have a dozen cats wandering all over the place.”

  “Of all the unjustified, exaggerated…” Erica sputtered indignantly.