Slowly, but purposefully, she stood. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
He stood, too, as he said, “We might not want to discuss it, but we must. I’m just glad you’re not going to deny it.”
One perfectly arched eyebrow lifted just a fraction. “What if I did?”
“I’d have to call you a liar,” he told her quietly. “And that would mortify you. If nothing else, Diana, you’re honest to the bone. You said so yourself, a person is only as good as his or her character.”
They faced off in the moonlight. He, determined to make her admit what was happening between them, she, seemingly just as determined to refuse to discuss the issue.
Finally he softly said, “If you did try to dispute me, I’d have to prove my point.”
He reached out for her at the same instant her brow wrinkled with a tiny frown.
“Don’t.” Her plaintive whisper was barely audible.
But it was too late.
He’d already touched her. Already felt her in his arms, her breasts pressing against his chest. Already smelled the light citrus scent of her skin wafting around him. Already experienced the heat of her flesh through the thin satin robe.
This was crazy! his brain shouted. But that’s how he felt whenever he was near her. Over-the-edge crazy.
Don’t kiss her! Don’t you dare kiss her!
The thoughts were strong. Insistent. Demanding. But his want, his need was stronger. More insistent. More demanding.
Her gaze was mere inches from his. He could feel her warm breath brush against his cheek.
Her panic quickly subsided, as did his own. What replaced it was a desire so damned raw it hurt, so damned exposed that neither of them could possibly dispute it.
The next instant her mouth was crushed beneath his in a kiss that could only be described as frantic. Hot and wet and wild.
He let his tongue lightly graze her bottom lip, the smooth silken heat of it pushing him further into the pure and perfect pleasure of his passionate insanity. She parted her lips, her tongue shyly connecting with his.
The groan he emitted came from down deep in his throat. The sound of it nearly overpowered her tiny, breathy gasp.
He hadn’t realized it before this moment, but she’d woven her fingers into his hair and she was tugging him closer, closer. With both hands. He cradled her face in his palms. Then his fingertips slid back further to explore the outer edges of her ears, the delicate length of her throat, the curve of her shoulder.
The both of them were well and truly swept away.
One of her hands flattened against his chest, and then he felt the fabric of his T-shirt tighten as she slowly clenched it in her fist.
His heart pounded furiously, hot blood raging through his body.
More. More. The madness ate away at his mind. Rational thought was nowhere to be found.
Her robe parted beneath his touch, and suddenly his skin felt aflame as he cupped the roundness of her breasts in his palms.
The intimate contact made their eyes fly open at the same instant, and he eased away as if he’d been blistered by the heat of her. He took a backward step at the same instant she did. She tugged her robe into place, straightened her hair, her fingers feathering over her mouth, neither of them able to take their eyes off the other.
She swallowed, and Travis felt a deep disappointment at not having had the opportunity to press his lips against the long length of her elegant neck, or nip at her tender earlobes, or nibble on the line of her jaw.
Closing his eyes, he took a moment to inhale deeply. To try to gather his wits. Garner his strength. Rein in the need throbbing through him like the heavy beat of an insistent drum.
Unwittingly he reached up and combed agitated fingers through his hair. Then he stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers as he forced himself to look into her wide, dark eyes.
Her shoulders straightened, as did her spine, as she slipped back into some semblance of her pride as easily as if it had been the white satin robe she wore.
“Well,” she said, her tone husky and sexy as hell, “I guess you’re right. There really is no renouncing it.”
Strange, he thought. She, too, had obviously been unable to come up with a word to describe the fever from which they both suffered.
It, she’d said.
That would have to do, he thought. If they were lucky, they’d never have to put a name to it. They could acknowledge its presence, yet refuse it power over them.
If they were lucky.
“Like you,” she continued, “I’m not interested in a relationship. Of any kind. Serious. Frivolous. Physical. Whatever. I’m just plain not interested. In fact, I’ll do everything in my power to avoid becoming involved. With you, or anyone else for that matter.”
His eyes widened a fraction at the surprising resolve he heard in her tone. But he quickly nodded in the dark. “Good.” Again he nodded. “I’m glad we agree.”
“Oh, yes. We definitely agree.”
His head continued to bob. As if its up and down motion somehow lent more credence to their decision.
The silence grew awkward.
He said, “Okay, then. We’re in agreement about this.”
She said nothing. But he knew their thoughts were unified.
“Then I’ll go on up to bed.” He moved past her, taking care not to touch her. “And let you get yourself a little something to eat.”
But as he walked out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the stairs that would take him to his room, something nagged at him like the irritation of a poking stick.
Travis had explained the motives behind his decision not to become involved with Diana. Well…maybe not all of them. But his parents’ divorce, and his brother’s, too, were powerful reasons for him not to want the entanglements of a relationship. However, Diana had only expressed her aversion to relationships. And a stern aversion it had been, too.
As he climbed the stairs, a question whispered across his brain.
What had caused such hardness in her?
Saying that the restaurant wasn’t much to look at from the outside was an understatement. It was a dive. A hole in the wall. But it was clean and off the beaten path, so the majority of the diners were urban residents rather than Christmas tourists seeking fancy city lights and holiday shopping that Philadelphia had to offer. Besides that, the cook had nearly fifty years of experience. The good food and the battle stories were what brought Travis, Sloan and Greg to the place for lunch at least twice a week.
“Would the two of you just grow up,” Sloan said. “Travis, you’re a big boy. You ought to be able to control your hormones. And, Greg, stop baiting the poor man.”
Sloan indicated Travis with a jerk of his head.
“But you heard what he said,” Greg complained. “The woman is driving him crazy. I’m just suggesting that he quit fighting it and dive headfirst into sexual dementia.”
“Now, there’s a new disorder for the psychology journals,” Sloan murmured with a chuckle. “Keep this up, Greg, and you’ll make into the annals of medical history, yet.”
Greg’s head bobbed, his face plastered with pride. “I’m working on it.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Travis glanced off toward the far corner of the room. These men might be his best friends, as well as his business partners, but sometimes their good-natured ribbing could rub a man the wrong way. He sunk his chin down onto his fist as he turned back to them, murmuring softly, “But Diana really is driving me nuts.”
“The two of you have talked about this…this…” Sloan paused, then continued, “About what’s going on between you?”
“Only to the point of agreeing that it’s not something we want to get involved in,” Travis told him.
“Well, why don’t you just take my advice?” Greg’s palms lifted upward. “Why don’t you just engage in one, good make out session?”
Of course, Greg would hand out that advice, Travis silently surmised. The man was in lo
ve. He’d found the woman of his dreams. In fact, he was going to marry Jane Dale on Christmas Eve.
Greg continued, “You know, even a single kiss might get the whole thing out of your system.”
“Tried that,” Travis said. “Last week. Nearly melted the darned soles off my shoes.”
Of course, when he and Diana had shared that hotter-than-the-sun’s-surface kiss he hadn’t been wearing any shoes. But the phrase got his idea across. That’s all that was necessary.
“You kissed the woman?” Greg’s green eyes sparkled with interest. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Sloan frowned and gave Greg a nudge with his elbow. “What’s wrong with you? He’s not one to kiss and tell.” He shook his head, his expression twisting with what could only be described as mild censure. “You’re acting like a gossipy woman.”
Greg’s whole face scrunched up at what he obviously took as horrendous criticism. “Men don’t gossip.”
Sloan and Travis shared a sidelong glance. Finally Travis couldn’t stop the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sloan broke out in a snicker.
Greg only glowered at them.
“Maybe you should try talking to her about it again,” Sloan suggested to Travis.
“No way.” Travis shook his head adamantly. “I don’t dare bring it up again. I can’t.” A sigh burst from deep in his chest. “But I can tell you that every time I’m even near the woman, I feel like I’m going to climb right out of my skin.”
Every look, every word they exchanged since their late-night kiss seemed charged with some kind of heated current. A couple of times over the past week they’d accidentally touched, once when they’d cleaned up the dinner dishes together, another time when she’d backed into him, not knowing he was behind her, and each time he’d thought his heart was going to go into fibrillation. His pulse would go all erratic, and blood would whoosh through his ears. He was turning into a complete and total wreck.
Travis was disgusted with himself. He refused to allow his truant testosterone to get the better of him.
Just then, Greg’s fiancée, Jane Dale, entered the restaurant and approached the table.
“Hey, guys,” she called cheerily.
She leaned over and gave Greg a full-on-the-mouth kiss. Immediately, Travis was reminded of Diana…of the kiss they had shared…of his desire to kiss her again…
“Just stopped by to say hi,” Jane said.
“Want something to eat?” Greg asked her.
“No, thanks,” she said. “I have a thousand errands to run. And some shopping to do, too.”
“How did the fitting go?” Greg asked Jane.
Jane’s smile brightened up the whole room. “The dress is going to be beautiful. And the seamstress making the alterations is doing a fabulous job. Quick, too.”
Travis just smiled, hiding his true thoughts. Greg and Jane were getting married in four short days. They had only met last month. Travis wanted to warn Greg that he was in for some heartache. Two people just couldn’t stay together without hurting each other. Sure, Greg and Jane might be happy now. But give them a few months—a few years, if they were lucky. Then the hurting would begin. It always did. Eventually.
But he knew his friend wouldn’t listen. Greg was drowning in the sentimental, lovesick emotions he felt for Jane. The poor guy was just going to have to learn the hard way.
“Travis,” Jane said, attracting his attention and his gaze, “Greg told me about Diana. A Medicine Woman? That’s fabulous for the boys.”
Nodding and smiling, Travis couldn’t help but feel Diana’s presence in Philadelphia was a double-edged sword. She was wonderful for the boys. But she was hell on him.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy getting things ready for this wedding,” she said. “I’ve wanted to come meet the twins. But you’ll bring them to the wedding, right? Oh, and Diana, too.” Jane’s smile widened. “She can be your date.”
“Great!” Travis’s eyes rolled heavenward. “Just what I need. A date with the very woman I’ve been trying to avoid.” He got up and tossed some money on the table to pay for his sandwich. “I’ll meet you guys back at the office.”
“What?” Jane looked from Greg to Sloan and back again. “What did I say?”
“Nothing, honey,” Greg told her. “The poor man’s just having some hormone problems.”
“You’re sick?” Jane asked.
Travis heard honest concern in her question, but he didn’t turn back around. He simply continued toward the door knowing full well that Sloan and Greg wouldn’t miss the opportunity to clear up the matter for her and in doing so make him the object of some joke or other that they would think hilarious. Sure enough, his friends didn’t disappoint him.
“He’s sick, all right.” Greg cast forth a boisterous laugh.
“Yeah,” Sloan chimed in. “He’s suffering from sexual dementia.”
Travis only groaned under his breath, his face flaming red, as he shoved his way out the door and onto the sidewalk. Hormone problems? Sexual dementia? Had his friends completely lost their minds?
He wanted to deny it. Vehemently. But he couldn’t. He was afraid his friends were as sane as could be. He was also afraid they had correctly diagnosed his situation.
Chapter Five
Diana felt a little like an outsider at the small wedding reception. It was clear that Travis held Greg and Sloan in great esteem. The three men were more like brothers than friends. They razzed one another, hugged one another often during this special occasion and laughed with each other frequently, just as family is wont to do.
Jane, the new Mrs. Greg Hamilton, was gorgeous in her full-skirted white wedding gown. Her honey-blond hair was upswept in an elegant French twist and her short, pearl-studded veil floated around the back of her head like a tiny tulle cloud.
When Travis had explained that Jane had planned the wedding in less than a month, Diana could hardly believe it. However, with the way the bride’s blue-gray eyes danced with joy, not to mention the fact that she and her new husband touched and kissed at every opportunity, it was clear that Jane and Greg had fallen for each other hard and fast, whatever the circumstances of their short courtship. The two of them were deeply in love.
Diana only hoped that their wedded bliss lasted longer than her own had.
Bliss? Had she ever experienced overwhelming happiness while she’d been married to Eric? Even on the day they had exchanged vows?
Looking at the rapture Jane was so obviously feeling, Diana came up feeling empty inside.
No, she and her ex had never encountered anything resembling the kind of wedded bliss that Greg and Jane were feeling. Diana was certain.
The mere thought of the months she’d spent as a married woman made her chest fill with emotions that were dark and thick and viscous. Sometimes the recollections—and the self-blame—became so strong, they swirled and rolled around her, catching her up and tossing her to and fro as if they were mighty hurricane winds. This time, she successfully pushed her way out of the memories before they could take hold of her and pull her into their sordid and ugly vortex.
At that moment, Diana watched as Greg and Jane danced together, both of them holding close a redheaded toddler that Travis had said was Greg’s baby daughter, Joy. The three of them made such a sweet family. Diana offered up a quick and silent prayer for the Hamiltons’ happiness.
Glancing around the small banquet hall, Diana again felt an acute twinge of being out of place here. She’d protested when Travis had asked her to attend the marriage celebration. The last place she needed to be was in a confined room with Travis dressed to the nines in that dark tuxedo and crisp white shirt. The midnight-black jacket matched his eyes to a T, his long, straight hair was tied back in a neat queue. Shivers coursed over every inch of her skin as unbidden images invaded her mind…images of what it would be like to have his long, satiny hair loose and brushing against her naked flesh. Her eyes went wide at the startling vision, and she forced herself to loo
k away from him.
Ever since that night in the kitchen, when they had shared that soul-wrenching kiss, Diana had become more aware of him than ever. If that were possible. And Diana had quickly discovered it was.
His every word, his every move, intruded on her senses, encroached on her day-to-day activities, violated her dreams. It was getting to the point that, when they were together, thought rushed out of her head, the words in her mind turning to smoke she couldn’t quite grasp.
She hated to lay down at night to sleep, for images of his face, his lips, his hands, his body, would torment her in disjointed, erotic apparitions. Every time she closed her eyes, her subconscious conjured Travis as some sort of nocturnal specter who teased her with kind words, taunted her with his warm, silken fingertips. Sleep had become agony for her.
So when he’d suggested she come to the wedding, she’d declined. But he’d been so full of rationale meant to convince her to change her answer. This gathering would be a great opportunity for Diana to meet his friends, he’d said, the people who would be close to the boys as they grew into adolescents and then adults. Besides that, he’d continued, the twins might have some questions regarding Native American marriage customs that he wouldn’t be able to answer.
Diana had silently but seriously doubted that. The boys were too young to think about such things; however, in the end she’d agreed to come, thinking that any opportunity to talk to them about their heritage would be good. And she had been curious about Travis’s friends and their children.
She smiled now as she spied Jared and Josh being herded around the room by Sloan’s triplets, the girls introducing the boys to various people in attendance. Travis’s sons would surely flourish in this friendly and loving environment.
“You’re sitting over here all alone.”
Travis’s unexpected appearance made her flinch.
“I’m sorry.” He frowned. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I—I was just—caught up in my thoughts. I’m okay, here.” She offered him a small smile, hoping to put his mind at ease—and make him go away.
Far away.
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