Hunting Houston

by Sandy Steen

  He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. “All I remember is that I turned away. Abby, she called out for me to help her, and I turned away.” His voice broke. “And sh-she died.”

  “That’s not possible,” Abby said, straight from her heart. “You couldn’t do something like that.”

  Houston stared at her, a thousand emotions whirling inside him, not the least of which was a powerful, overwhelming, soul-deep love for this woman. She hadn’t been shocked or repulsed. She hadn’t looked at him like he was some kind of vermin. If he hadn’t loved her deeply, completely, before this moment, he did now.

  “I wish that were true, but I remember it. Because I was a coward, Shelley died.”

  “Coward? You’re no more a coward than I am fearless.” She shook her head determinedly. “No, Houston. Your memory must be jumbled, confused. You told me yourself that the pieces didn’t always fit together. I don’t know what happened out there that terrible night, but I do know that you would never have turned your back on someone in trouble. Especially someone you cared about.”

  “Abby, I appreciate your unqualified support, but-”

  “Try to remember.”

  “What?”

  “Try to remember. That’s the only way you’ll ever know for sure.”

  “But I can’t. I’ve tried. God, don’t you think I’ve tried? Hundreds of times. But I don’t remember.”

  “Try again. Please.”

  It was the way she said please that gave him any hope of success. She wasn’t asking to prove a point. She was asking for him. Begging for the chance to give him back his self-respect, his hope.

  “Close your eyes.” She put her hand on his shoulder, urging him to lean back on the sofa. “Let your mind drift back to that night. Think about the noise. What happened after the noise?”

  He held her hand, and she could see the rapid eye movement behind his eyelids.

  “The noise…and the water,” he said softly.

  “That’s right. You were in the water—”

  “No, no.”

  “But the explosion must have thrown you into the water.”

  “No,” he whispered.

  Then she realized he must be blocking his memories because they began with being in the water. And this was the beginning of his fear.

  “Houston.” She soothed her fingers over his brow. “After the noise you were under the water, weren’t you? You almost drowned, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” she said a little more forcefully this time.

  Suddenly he clutched her hand so tightly, her circulation was threatened. His eyes snapped open.

  “Yes!” The word exploded out of him.

  He shot forward, put his head in his hands. “Oh, God, the water. Couldn’t get to the surface. No air. No air. My lungs, burning—”

  He took a deep breath, much the way she imagined he had done when he finally made it to the surface that night.

  “One hull was sinking, jacking the other hull up out of the water. It was bad. I knew it was bad. Had to get to Shelley,” he said, his breathing hard.

  “Waves kept pulling me back, tossing me around. Threw me into the ship. My leg. I cut my leg. Forget the pain. Forget everything but getting to Shelley.”

  Abby realized he had lapsed into the present tense. In his mind he was there. Reliving that god-awful night.

  “Then I heard her. She must be topside. Sounds like a bell. She must be hanging on to the ship’s bell. ‘I’m coming Shel. Hang on!’ Crawling along starboard side.” There was a pause, then he went on. “Raft. Got to have the raft. Can’t survive without it. Shelley? The blood. Running down my leg right into the sea. No good. We’d be shark bait. Got to have the raft. ‘Hang on, Shel. Just hang on.’ Get it. Get the raft. Throw it. Hold on with one hand, and toss it—stretch, stretchlean back as far as you can. Throw it. Hard.”

  Abby’s whole body slumped in relief. Now she understood why he thought he had turned his back on Shelley Leland.

  “Houston-”

  “Now, just head toward her voice. No, no. The water. Got to get back on board. ‘Jump, Shelley. Jump!’”

  “Houston-”

  “No!Oh, no-o-o…”

  She put her hands on his face, and turned it to her. “Houston, listen to me.” Finally, he focused on her face, her voice.

  “Abby?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. It’s me. You’re here in your own house, with me. And you remembered.”

  “And it doesn’t change anything.”

  “Yes, it does! Don’t you understand? You aren’t a coward. You climbed on board the ship to save Shelley.”

  “But I turned-”

  “No. You didn’t turn away from her. You threw a raft into the water. Over your back. The event got all twisted up in your memory, and you thought you had abandoned Shelley when she needed you. You didn’t. You were trying desperately to save her.”

  He grabbed both her hands in his. “I tried to get to her, but I fell back into the sea.”

  “Yes.” Tears gathered in her eyes.

  “I told her to jump.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then… there was another explosion. The ship…sank. And I…”His eyes widened. “Abby, I tried to find her.”

  “Yes, yes.” Tears streaming down her face, she threw her arms around him. “I’m sure you did. I know you did. You tried to save her, Houston. Don’t you see? You’re not a coward. You never were.”

  “Abby, Abby,” he said against her neck. “I didn’t want to remember because I was afraid to confirm my worst fears.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “But you knew. Somehow you knew pushing me to dig up the memories was what I needed. Thank you, thank you.” His kissed her mouth, her cheek, her forehead, then retraced his path.

  “I love you,” he said, just before he kissed her long and hard.

  Chapter 12

  “You…you—”

  “I love you.”

  Abby shook her head. “You’re just… It was a spurof-the-moment thing to say, because you’re grateful-”

  “Grateful? God, yes, I’m grateful. But that had nothing to do with saying ‘I love you.’ “

  “Houston-”

  “I wanted to say it this afternoon, the minute I saw you. I wanted to scoop you up in my arms, whirl you around, smother you with kisses, and tell you that I am totally, hopelessly in love with you. But I stopped myself because I was afraid when you found out the truth—or what I thought was the truth—you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. But you didn’t pull back, Abby. You not only didn’t pull back, you refused to accept my fear-twisted memories. You believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself.”

  She was so stunned by his declaration that she didn’t know how to respond. Oh, she knew how she would like to respond. She would like nothing better than to do exactly what he had mentioned—fling herself into his arms, smother him with kisses, and tell him over and over how much she loved him; how much she would always love him. But she couldn’t.

  “Abby?”

  “I—I’m overwhelmed. I never thought…”

  “Neither did I, at first. Is it so hard to take? My loving you?”

  “No. It’s wonderful, only…”

  “Only you’re not sure how you feel. If you’re worried that I’m waiting for you to say the same thing, don’t be.”

  At her wide-eyed expression, he only smiled. “I’ve already figured out that a woman as wonderful as you couldn’t run around loose without an attachment or two in her past. I think maybe you’ve been hurt before. And maybe it’s hard for you to trust again. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to tell me the details. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you. And I want you to trust me with your love.”

  She looked dazzlingly beautiful in the candlelight. Her hair appeared aflame, and her skin looked like ivory velvet. “Will you let me love you, Abby?” He leaned forward to sip from her lips. “Will you?”


  She couldn’t get her breath, and her whole body was tingling from just his slightest touch. If he kissed her, really kissed her, she would be lost. She should tell him, beg him to stop. She should have that much courage, considering the bravery he had just displayed. But she didn’t.

  She couldn’t offer her love. Not now, not after he had bared his soul. In the end, when he learned who she was, what she was, the pain would be more, not less if she did. No, she couldn’t speak of love. But she could show it.

  And she wanted this moment. This brief window in time. Call it selfish. Call it cowardly, for it was certainly that and more. She wanted a piece of his love to hold on to when he was gone. Unlike Houston’s, her reality wasn’t a twisted memory. And when her reality became his, she would still have this time.

  She wanted this sweet taste of what their future could have been if things were different. She wanted it devoutly, desperately. Because she knew it was all she would ever have.

  He slipped his arm around her, pulling her close. Then he stroked her hair, her face, ever so gently, his touch light as a moonbeam. “Abby?”

  Her head fell back in a gesture of surrender. A small thing, but it sent desire firestorming through his body. “I’m not sure I…”

  He let his hand coast down her neck and over her shoulder. “Yes, you are.”

  She shivered, a sweet, fierce longing shimmering through her. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I am.” With that, she lifted her head to his waiting lips.

  His mouth moved over hers in a moist, deep, endless kiss, rife with passion, longing, hope, and a thousand sensations.

  What seemed like hours later, he took his lips from hers and stood, offering her his hand. She took it, knowing that doing so meant there was no going back. Nothing could stop them now.

  He led her into his bedroom.

  Abby barely had time to notice the deep rich masculine colors. The only thing she saw was the beautiful antique rosewood bed with its ornate headboard that went almost to the ceiling.

  “Was this your great-grandmother’s, too?” she asked, then gasped as he skimmed his lips down her throat.

  “Great-grandfather’s. He bought it for their wedding night.”

  Houston was struck by the significance of what he had just said. This night was like none other he had ever experienced. Not just because of all that he had told her, but because of all he felt for her. Love—deep, powerful and binding.

  Slowly, and with infinitely more skill than she had exhibited when she buttoned the blouse, he undid the row of tiny pearl buttons, one by one. And when he was finished, when there was nothing holding the blouse together but his willpower, he put his hands on her throat and slid them down, down, along the locket’s chain into the valley between her breasts, and pushed the fabric aside. At the first touch of cool air on her bare breasts, Abby sighed.

  “Silk. Your skin feels like warm silk.” His fingers stroked, caressed, sculpted her fullness. “Incredibly soft.”

  Abby had never felt so treasured, so cherished. And she wanted to return the feeling tenfold. Reaching out, she ran her hand over his cheek, along the line of his beard, then down his neck to the first button on his shirt. “I want to touch you.”

  Houston’s hands left her only long enough to finish what she started. In seconds, he was shirtless. And her blouse lay discarded on the rug beside his bed.

  She ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders. Hard muscles. Hot skin. She kissed a spot at the top of his shoulder, then scattered more kisses across his chest to the other shoulder. The taste of him seeped into her, intoxicating her.

  His hands on her hips, he pressed her lower body to his. And slowly, seductively, moved against her. Again and again. Then his hands slid up over her back, pressing her torso to his. Bare breasts to bare chest as his mouth came back to hers in a breath-stealing kiss.

  The dual sensations were electrifying. Abby moaned.

  Houston deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers. While his tongue did wicked, wonderful things, he unfastened her skirt. It fell to the floor.

  Abby roused herself enough to step out of the skirt. Then she hooked her thumbs into the lacy waistband of her bikini panties and pushed them down over her hips. They joined the rest of her discarded clothes.

  He simply stared. That first day she came into the shop he had thought her body beautiful. How could he have made such an understatement? She was sleek, graceful. Stunning.

  He shed the rest of his clothes, stepped closer, took her in his arms and kissed her long and hard, softly and tenderly. Then he leaned her back far enough to put his mouth on the swell of first one breast, then the other. Moonlight and starlight spilled over them like a shimmering silver veil.

  Her hands slipped from his shoulders as if boneless. Her breath came out on a trembling sigh as he laved his tongue over and around her, treasuring the taste of her, savoring.

  Wearing nothing but his gift, she was exquisite, he thought, as he laid her back on his bed. Exquisitely beautiful. Exclusively his. He was stunned by the stab of possessiveness. Never had he experienced the need to hold a woman close as he did with Abby. Not just physically, but emotionally. In every way. It was both frightening and exhilarating.

  “I’m not sure there’re enough hours in the night for me to kiss you, love you,” he whispered against the softness of her tummy.

  Languid, and helpless to do anything but respond to his mouth, his hands, she drifted on the sensations like lazy smoke from smoldering fires. She was aware only of wanting more, even as she drifted. She wanted to move closer to the fire, until the heat burned her. It was the heat, his heat, she sought. When he stretched out beside her, his body contacting hers almost from head to toe, she turned, lifting her leg over his. “Yes,” she whispered. “Love me.”

  Moving his hand between their bodies, he stroked the silken skin of her inner thigh, then higher. Higher still, stoking, stroking. Her hips rotated slowly to the delicious demand. Seeking, wanting, until she gasped with that first, shattering, sweet release.

  While she was limp with pleasure, he entered her, filled her. Her body bowed, taking him, begging for more. He gladly granted her silent request until they were giving, taking, soaring. In the end they were together, shimmering in their rapture like two stars glowing in the night.

  It was still night when she woke, but hardly dark. Moonlight filled the room, casting shadows both harsh and gentle. Abby lay very still, listening to the night.

  For a moment she could imagine herself in a fairyland filled with moonbeams and stardust. She could imagine herself staying forever in this magical place. With Houston. She smiled, remembering his tenderness, the way he made her feel so incredibly special. With a sigh of pure pleasure, she turned, intending to snuggle next to him.

  And found him watching her.

  “I hope that smile was for me,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “Hmm.” She slipped an arm around his waist. “Definitely.”

  “What time is it?” Automatically, he reached for the small alarm clock on the bedside table. But Abby grabbed his hand.

  “I don’t want to know what time it is. I’m not ready for the night to be over.”

  Houston forgot about the clock and took her in his arms instead. “Your wish is my command. Besides, neither am I.”

  She hugged him tighter, her cheek resting in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. “My wish is that I could stay right here forever.”

  “Then stay with me. We’ll hang on to the stars.”

  “Just like that?” What a wonderful dream, she thought, wishing it were that easy. “Just let everything go?”

  “Last I looked, this was everything.”

  “It is,” she whispered, her heart nearly breaking. “Right now, it is.”

  “And later?”

  Later was reality, and she wasn’t prepared to deal with reality now. She lifted her head and kissed him. “Later will have to wait.”

  This time when they c
ame together it was swift, deep and torrid—their bodies eager for another taste of the fulfillment they had experienced earlier. The fire, still smoldering, took only a kiss to reignite. And they both went willingly into the blaze.

  For the first time in her life Abby understood the phrase, “the cold light of day.” Standing in her bare feet in Houston’s kitchen with butter yellow morning sunshine streaming through the windows, she felt cold, bleak. Holding a cup of coffee in one hand, she fingered the locket Houston had given her, and thought about the night they had just spent together. A bit of heaven and hell. The heaven of being in his arms, of loving him, and being loved by him. The hell of knowing that today she had to face reality.

  Behind her, she heard Houston come into the kitchen, and she turned to him, smiling. “You want some more coffee?”

  He shook his head. “By the time I get you back to your condo and get to the shop, it’ll be almost ten.”

  “I could call a taxi,” she offered.

  “Over my dead body.”

  “Just trying to help.”

  He came over and wrapped her in his arms. “You help just by standing there looking so gorgeous.”

  “You need glasses.”

  “I can see just fine, thank you, and what I see—” he kissed her soundly “—I like. But, I have to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “This dress. Specifically, these.” His fingers played up, then down the line of pearl buttons. “Almost drove me insane last night. The next time you wear it, I’m not responsible for the safekeeping of one button. If they all get ripped off, that’s the price you pay.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Good.” His mouth took hers in a soft, sweet kiss. “And, since I was preoccupied last night and didn’t mention it, thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For helping me, pushing me to deal with all that stuff I had been trying so hard not to deal with.”

  “I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing.”

  “You did. For the first time since the accident, I can think about it and not feel guilty. I’m not sure about going back in the water again. That part doesn’t feel as if it’s changed.”