by Skye Taylor
“This one definitely makes me think of our beach. Or maybe just our last night together there.” Philip looked down at her with more than a hint of seduction in his eyes.
The jumble of memories of that night and of Philip making love to her in the dunes filled Elena with such longing that her heart ached. “Me too,” she whispered through a painfully tight throat. They gazed at the romantic painting in silence a while longer before she dragged him toward the next portrait—an old man seated in a rocker with his hand resting on the head of an equally aged dog.
“This guy is first-rate,” Philip muttered. “It feels like I could reach out and pat that dog and feel how soft his fur is.”
“I know. And look at the man’s eyes. It’s like they’re following us.”
Philip took several steps to the right. “Big brother is watching us.” He chuckled. “Oh—” Two steps ahead of her now, Philip sucked in a quick breath and went utterly still.
“What is it?”
Philip reached toward the image of a small boy clutching a teddy bear. His fingers trembled visibly before he pulled his hand back and shoved it into his pocket.
“Do you know this boy?” Elena glanced from Philip’s face to the canvas and back. “Is he one of your nephews?”
Philip shook his head in a barely discernible denial.
The look of loss and pain on Philip’s expressive face had her suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Philip answered after a long moment. “It just looks like someone I used to know.”
Elena looked back at the painting, studying it more closely, trying to find something familiar, but there was nothing.
“His name was Tommy.”
Philip leaned forward to inspect the creamy square of paper that listed detailed information about the painting. He frowned. “Not for sale.”
“Would you buy it if you could?”
“It looks just like him,” Philip said softly, ignoring her question.
Abruptly, he turned toward her as if suddenly remembering she was there. “I think we’ve seen about everything. Let’s bug out and find us some supper.”
The drive from the gallery to The George on the Cape Fear River in the dimming light of early evening was mostly silent. Philip seemed far away in thoughts he didn’t seem inclined to share while Elena tried to sort through the roller coaster of emotions and moods she’d been on since Philip picked her up.
Just being with him filled her with happiness that didn’t depend on what they were doing or where they were. But she didn’t deserve that kind of untrammeled enjoyment. Giddiness and innocence belonged to the girl she’d once been and the Marine she’d fallen in love with. What she felt now for the man Philip had become was very different. Stronger and yet less certain. Torn by loss and betrayal, and shadowed by doubts.
“You’ll like this place,” Philip said as he held her door open. His fingers touched the small of her back as he ushered her toward the entrance and another shiver of pleasure rippled through her.
A slender woman with flaming red hair and a clashing purple pencil skirt came out from behind a tall desk and escorted them to one of the outside tables. Candles flickered on each table and boats bobbed gently on the far side of the wharf. A nearly full moon hung low in the inky blue sky, sending a shimmer of light across the surface of the river.
“It looks—” Elena broke off. She’d been about to say romantic. But that wasn’t where Philip’s head was right now.
That last painting of the little boy had touched something in him and doused the lighthearted mood he’d been in earlier.
“I recommend the shrimp and grits. It’s their specialty,” Philip said as he perused his menu. “Should I order a bottle of wine?”
Elena closed her menu and decided to take his advice. “I like white.”
“Calloway’s damned good,” Philip said after the waiter had taken their order.
She murmured her agreement, debating whether to ask for more details about this boy named Tommy.
The wine arrived and Philip went through the ritual of tasting it before the waiter poured them both a glass and retreated. Elena gazed out over the river at the variety of colors dancing off the water, reflected from lights on the boats and along the shore. When she looked back, Philip was staring at her with warmth in his eyes.
His gaze lit a fire in her belly and the warmth spread like honey. She ignored the quickening of her heartbeat and asked, “Who was Tommy?”
Philip took a sip of wine, then set his glass back down and sighed.
“He was my son.”
“You have a son?” Philip has a son? Her heart seemed to be lodged in her throat.
He shook his head, then hesitated as if trying to make up his mind about something. “I told you about Holly. I think I did anyway.”
“Andy said you were married. A long time ago. Before—before our summer together. Didn’t she send you a Dear John letter or something like that?”
“Actually, no. She didn’t. I was stationed at Pendleton when she walked out. She got pregnant right after we were married, right before I shipped out to Kosovo for five months. But it was a short tour, and I was home before Tommy was born. I was the first one to hold him—”
Philip blinked rapidly and glanced away for a moment. “I named him Thomas after my dad’s favorite brother.”
Wrapping her mind around the image of Philip as a father took some doing. He’d been a proud daddy with a newborn son. A little boy that brought tears to his eyes.
“What happened to him?” She was almost afraid to ask.
“Nothing happened—to him. Except he wasn’t my son.” Philip’s voice wavered. “Holly cheated on me. And she cheated on Lawrence, too.”
“Lawrence?” Elena’s head was about to explode.
Their salads arrived and Philip sat back to let the waiter set them down and add a basket of rolls. He buttered a roll as if he hadn’t just left her hanging with his provocative announcement.
“Who is Lawrence?” Elena plucked a roll from the basket, but set it on her plate without doing anything with it.
“Lawrence is Tommy’s biological father.” Philip took a second bite of roll, then another sip of wine. Finally, he put the glass down, rested his hands beside his plate, and met Elena’s questioning gaze.
“If she hadn’t thought there was something in it for her, Holly would never have told either of us. She let me think Tommy was mine until it occurred to her that Lawrence was a wealthy man and if I was out of the picture, maybe she could sucker him into marrying her. Except Lawrence was already married and he had no plans on leaving his wife for a two-timing bitch. But he did want his son.”
“But Tommy was yours, legally. He had your name.” The pain and loss in Philip’s voice tugged at her heart and she wished there was a way to fix this for him.
“If he was my son, my biological son, I’d have fought Holly for custody. But he wasn’t mine. Holly only wanted money. I wanted Tommy, but I had no wife, and a career that meant being out of the country half the time. And Lawrence could give Tommy everything I couldn’t.” Philip rubbed his fingers repeatedly over a fold of his napkin. “So, I signed away my rights.”
“And you’ve never seen him since?” Elena couldn’t imagine turning her child over to someone else. Even if the child hadn’t come from her body. If she’d been there at its birth and loved and nurtured it, it would have been the child of her heart. No wonder Philip looked like he’d lost something precious.
“I’ve seen him a few times. He calls me Uncle Philip. He’s older now and he knows where I fit into his life. And I’ve come to accept it. Lawrence and his wife were childless and they were pretty happy to have that little boy come into their lives. It would have been so unfair to Lawrence if he had never known abo
ut Tommy.”
“But you never stopped loving him. I can see why you were so taken with the painting.” Why he might have wanted to purchase it, had it been for sale.
“He’s in grad school, now. God, doesn’t that make me feel old.” Philip chuckled humorlessly. “I’ll have to show you the photos Lawrence sends me some time. How do you like the shrimp and cheese grits?” He gestured toward her plate with his fork.
“Delicious.” She took one last bite and hummed appreciatively. But her heart was hammering with the implications of Philip’s confession.
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “So, now you know all my secrets, what are the chances we could still make a go of it?”
From melancholy a moment before to simmering with desire, his eyes held hers as warmly as the hand gripping her fingers. Guilt and regret gnawed at her thoughts, but his hungry blue gaze and soft question stoked the fire that had been bubbling in her all afternoon.
“You’re still my patient,” she said, trying to defuse the growing intensity.
“I won’t be your patient for much longer.” He turned her hand over and brushed his fingertips over her wrist and palm. It was his right hand and his fingers seemed to be working just fine. They were certainly doing a number on her.
“Then you’ll be gone.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, then drew his hand back and picked up his wine glass.
“I thought you wanted to join one of those forward deployed units that are stationed on ships.”
“I want to be with Marines who do more than warm chairs. But maybe that doesn’t have to be on a ship.”
“How is everything?” The waiter appeared on silent feet. He picked up the now-empty bottle of wine. “Shall I bring another bottle?”
Philip looked at Elena. Her brain was already swimming with too many emotions and revelations. More wine wasn’t going to clarify any of them. She shook her head.
Philip looked back at the waiter. “Just the check, please.”
“What do you say to a walk along the river before I take you home?” Philip asked a few minutes later as he tucked his credit card back in his wallet and signed the charge slip.
With a quick glance at the now completely dark sky and the river glittering with the reflections of dozens of lights, she hesitated a moment. This was a moment of decision. Keep her distance and maintain what shreds she could of their professional relationship. Or take a chance there was a future for them, her job and reputation be damned.
Philip stood and reached for her hand and again she was overwhelmed with the enormity of her feelings for him. Memories of nights like this all those years ago merged with the feeling of inevitability that had been building between them for weeks.
It probably wasn’t smart to agree to anything so provocatively romantic, but she was tired of fighting the desire to be close to him. And Meg’s advice kept coming back to tease her. Rules are meant to be bent.
“Okay,” she said, taking his hand.
“Okay what?” he asked, his gaze intent on hers.
“I’m not ready to go home yet either, so let’s go for that walk.”
They walked in silence for a while as she soaked up the nearness of him and how alive and excited he made her feel. The breeze coming off the river caught the fabric of her dress and fluttered it around her knees. She felt young again. Young and in love. With Philip. No longer the responsible woman with a respected position.
When they arrived at the little park by the Coast Guard monument, Philip stopped and pulled her into his embrace in the leafy shadows. She went willingly and laced her arms about his neck.
He kissed her gently, but the pent-up hunger in him vibrated like a tightly strung bow. She melted into him and kissed him back with matching hunger. When she slipped her tongue between his lips, he groaned and pulled her closer.
When he drew back, his breathing was not quite even. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should head back to Lejeune.”
The shadow of reality swooped back. If the moments in his arms had lasted forever, she would have welcomed it. But perhaps these were stolen moments, not meant to last. Just like their week in Tide’s Way fourteen years ago.
“Right! You have to be up at oh-dark-hundred, and you need to be on your toes for Captain Clueless.”
Chapter 28
April 2015
Camp Lejeune, North Carolina
IT WAS LATE WHEN Philip walked Elena to her door, but not so late that he was ready for it to end. If she asked him up for nightcap or a cup of coffee, he probably needed to say no, though. The heated desire between them in those moments by the river had been curbed only by their surroundings. It would be tempting fate to stay.
Her immediate empathy about Tommy touched him. The way she’d jumped to his defense over giving the boy up made him love her even more than he had fourteen years ago when he’d been falling head over heels for her.
What he felt now was more mature. He hadn’t been a kid back then either, but in the years since he’d lived through so many losses and so much anguish, it was a miracle she still found something in him to like, much less desire. But somehow, in spite of her anxiousness about their relationship and her position in the physical therapy unit, she did desire him. Her body and her kiss told him so, loud and clear.
Elena pulled her key from her purse and fitted it into the lock. She twisted it and pushed the door ajar, but stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder. She turned to face him. He pulled his left hand from his pocket where he’d been worrying the lining fabric with his fingers and spanned her slender waist. Her hands were warm and tentative when she placed them against his shirt as he bent to kiss her. Even without their bodies touching, the fire that had always flared so easily between them leapt to life.
He kissed her again. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, sliding her hands up his chest to his shoulders. Aching hot desire seared his whole being as he plundered her mouth, but she gave as good as she got. Spontaneous combustion seemed imminent, and he could hardly breathe. It took every effort of will he could summon to lift his head and step back to catch his breath. And get a grip on his self-control. She looped her arms behind his head and pulled his head back to hers.
“Do you want to come in?” she whispered, her lips brushing his.
“I probably shouldn’t.” But I sure as hell want to.
“For coffee? Or a beer?” She laid her head on his shoulder and toyed with the buttons on his polo shirt. “Or something stronger?”
“If I come in, you know where it will lead. And it won’t be about a beer.” The hunger to make love to this woman had not diminished even the slightest over the years. But he was more cautious now. Not so much in a hurry to get laid. He was playing for keeps this time.
Come to think of it, she’d been the one to initiate their lovemaking fourteen years ago. Both the planning and the executing. He’d gone willingly along for the ride, and it had been the ride of his life. But she’d started it. His will power began to slip.
He slid his hands up under the hem of the little sweater she wore. Her skin was warm and inviting and when skin met skin, she sucked in a quick breath. He brushed the smooth flesh just below her ribcage with his thumbs, and his slacks grew tight.
Elena murmured something he couldn’t make out. He stifled his desire, gripped her shoulders, and pushed her away so he could look down into her face. “You do know what will happen if I come in?” he asked again.
She nodded.
“And you’re sure this is what you want?”
She nodded again.
“And it’s okay if we break some rules?”
“I already broke the rules when I agreed to go out with you.”
He swallowed hard, and prayed he was not making the second biggest mistake of his l
ife. He pushed the door open and walked her backward through it.
ELENA DREW IN a ragged breath. Philip’s hands were warm and large, and when his thumbs brushed against the curve of her breasts, she stopped breathing completely for several seconds.
She’d invited him in, and he hadn’t even tried to pretend he didn’t know what she wanted. What they both wanted. Everything had been building to this moment since the first day she’d seen him sitting in the waiting room, his arm in a sling and an expression of total shock on his face.
He shut the door with his foot. With a sexy growl, he lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He was as aroused and ready as she was.
“This way to your room?” He started walking toward the hall on the far side of her living room.
She dug her heels in grinding herself against his erection. He groaned and lengthened his stride. He correctly ignored the closed door to Julie’s room and set Elena down when he reached the side of her queen-sized bed. A few weeks ago in therapy, he’d made a snarky comment about her being in a rush, but tonight he was in as big a rush as she. Their clothes were off and abandoned in haste. She glanced at the drawer beside her bed, remembered there were no condoms in it at present and shot a sudden panicked look at Philip.
But he was already bending to retrieve his slacks. He found his wallet and pulled out a little foil packet that looked like it had been there for years. Was there an expiration date on those things? Who knew? Who cared? This wasn’t her fertile time of the month anyway. She hoped. She yanked the spread down and fell back on top of the sheets. Philip crawled onto the foot of the bed and came up over her with a look of reverent determination on his face.
“I dreamed of this. You’ll never know how often.” He spread her thighs and settled between them, never taking his gaze off hers.
