by Ward, Susan
She opened her eyes to find him watching her.
“I want to go home.” Her voice was strange amid the peaceful sounds of hills surrounding them.
She found her feet in a hurry and waited with tight-lipped apprehension for his reaction. She could hardly meet his gaze. The tension that had sprung from her body vibrated around them.
“Fine. We’ll go back,” he assured her gently, gathering up the blanket and basket.
“Fritz must be worried sick wondering what’s become of me,” she announced into the quiet.
She pretended not to notice his outstretched hand and moved ahead of him back to the car. Her stomach twisted into knots. It was getting harder and harder to deny her feelings for Devon. Harder and harder to hold back. The closeness she felt with him was such a natural thing that she couldn’t trust what she might say or do with him.
Every minute with Devon was basking in illusion. It couldn’t continue forever—pretending to be someone she wasn’t, pretending there were no problems, pretending that she might make a relationship built on a life sitting on quicksand.
At the car, she kept her face down carefully, anxiously waiting for her door to be unlocked and drawn back. She collapsed into the seat without meeting the warm pressure of Devon’s gaze.
The drive down the mountain passed in a fog of silence and tension. Her street was deserted when he pulled up in front of her house. He followed her up to the front stoop as her anxious hands fumbled through her pocket for her keys. She struggled, trying to hold her fingers steady enough to work the key into the lock.
After a minute, she heard Devon’s voice behind her. “Let me do that.”
She surrendered the key and the last of her composure. Choking on a sob, she nearly stumbled over the half-inch rise across the doorway, as she stepped into the dark house.
“Easy, Krys. I got the message loud and clear. You don’t have to run.”
She didn’t have the strength to pull away, as he turned her back towards him and folded her against his chest. Her heart hurt so badly.
The tears on her cheeks seeped through his shirt, and his lips brushed her face, finding the wetness.
“What have I done to make you cry?” he asked anxiously.
“Devon, I don’t want this complication. I don’t want to love you. Not now, not ever,” she sobbed miserably.
“It’s too late. We’re already in love,” he chided tenderly. “We can pretend that we’re not, but it’s there and we both know it.”
She dropped her eyes. “My life is a mess, Devon. I don’t want to pull you down with me, and there’s no climbing out! There’s no place to go with this that won’t leave us both hurt.”
He reached out, taking her hands in his.
“I’ve been attracted to you since the first moment I laid eyes on you. I can’t even imagine my life without you in it, Krys. I don’t think I can walk away. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I know when something feels right to me. And we feel right, Krys.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “I think we need to give this a chance. Give us a chance to have whatever we can out of this.”
“I want to,” she admitted. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”
“Then why do you fight it? Why not just let it happen?”
Devon stared down at her wistfully, but she had no strength to answer him.
She had never wanted anything more than she wanted Devon. If only for one night, for this brief span of time, to experience the joy of being loved and giving love in return. Was it worth the risk of more pain, the costs it could mean to Devon’s life, for her to try to love again?
“I’ve kept my distance, Krys, because that’s what you’ve wanted,” he said, his voice like a caress, soothing her roiling emotions. “But I can’t any longer. I’ve crossed the line and there’s no going back. Not for me. Every reason you’ve given me not to love you, they haven’t been enough. Let’s make this simple. If its Morgan standing between us, you only have to tell me once.”
Old and new fears nipped at her heels. In the beginning, Morgan had been there, a ghost between them, but whatever power those lingering memories had had to keep her from his arms had lost their zing.
“None of this has anything to do with Morgan.” She swallowed, dazed with desire, insecurity, and a feeling of tragedy, and said, “If I hadn’t met you, I would have always believed that Morgan was the only man for me. That I was incapable of loving another man. I think I needed to believe that. I think I needed to believe that I had salvaged some small part of my life that Nick hadn’t taken. But that was all it was, all it had ever been, some defiance against all that Nick had cost me. But the truth is, that part of me that had loved Morgan had let go long ago. Even before I met you, Devon. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
She wasn’t sure what her face showed, but Devon’s expression softened immediately, and she could feel the tension in his body slowly ebb.
“Then what, Krys, makes you keep fighting this, fighting me, fighting us? Why won’t you even give us a chance?”
Teetering numbly over pools of fear and desire, Krystal heard herself whispering, “You, Devon. You.”
He was silent for a moment and made no attempt to conceal the fact that her words had surprised him. “Me?”
“That night two years ago was among the worst in my life. I loved Morgan and the pain of leaving him, of not having a choice, is something I don’t want to live again. Nothing has changed in two years. I’m still in the same trap, and I don’t want to hurt either you or myself while trying to pretend I’m not. I’ve already suffered too many hurts, Devon. I don’t want that pain again, not ever. And someday you’ll have to leave…and there it will be.”
Krystal was not aware that her eyes had released a single, glistening teardrop until she felt its cool sheen on her warm cheeks.
With the curve of his finger, Devon touched it away, before he lifted her chin to look at her face. “One very important thing has changed in two years. I’m not Morgan, Krystal. If you think anything could force me to walk out of your life, you don’t know me. If leaving my life behind is what it takes to be with you, then that’s what it takes. Because without you, Krys, nothing I have will ever be worth anything again.”
She wanted to believe him so badly that the depth of it terrified her.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do!” It was a hard fight to meet Devon’s eyes. “I’ve not shown you the worst of what Nick left on my body, Devon...I don’t know if I can show another man that again. I don’t know if I can share myself. If I have anything to share anymore...I don’t know if I can take the pain that will come with trying to love you any more than I can take the pain of losing you after loving you. You don’t know what you are asking of me!”
He pulled her closer, the warmth of his kiss stopping her words.
“Don’t push me away, Krys. There is nothing you could show me that I wouldn’t love as a part of you. Nothing that would make me not want you. I can’t stop whatever pain you’ll feel from whatever it is you want to prevent me from seeing, but maybe my love will take the sting away, in time. I can’t promise you anything. I can only give you myself. You don’t know the future. I don’t know the future. We only know what is here, now. Isn’t it better to risk the pain, the unknown of what might or what might not ever happen, than to let this go without a fight?”
Krystal stepped back to better see his face. Her mind told her every reason why it would be less painful to let him go now. Her heart sidestepped every point. Later. Deal with the worries later. For now, just let yourself love him. Let him love you.
“I can’t promise you there will be no pain, Krys. I can only promise to try not to hurt you. And I can’t make assurances of the future, because it’s damn uncertain in the best of circumstances. But I can love you, Krys. If you let me. And you can love me, if you let yourself. And we can have that no matter what happens, for as long as we can, however we can. Do yo
u think all the reasons in the world, however sensible they may be, are worth saying no to that?”
She stepped back into Devon’s arms. This time, she couldn’t say no.
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was nothing ordinary about the events that had brought Krystal Stafford into Devon Howard’s life. Why should the act of consummating their relationship be a less complicated event?
Only, for Devon, the irony was that it was the perfectly unexceptional aspects of the life of Christine Dillon that were delaying the inevitable.
Two years ago, there would have been her status and his (which he termed lesser status in his mind), which would have kept them from meeting on anything but hostile ground. They were naturally polarized as adversaries: recording star versus the press. They traveled in different circles, with different lives, as unlikely to fall in love as Mercury and Venus were to collide.
A month ago, there had been the truth of his reasons for being in Coos Bay, the dangers of her situation and the uncertainty of her future standing between them.
It was inconceivable that they should have made it through that remarkable set of problems only to face more delay, battling the common and routine: the long hours she spent with Jason and the boys; her work in the music studio; and Katie.
On the surface, they were all reasonable delays, the result of external interference, nothing more. But Devon knew better, knew the complicated puzzle of Krystal’s mind, knew that although she had taken him into her heart, that she was still unsure, taking cautious steps into this uncertain situation. It had more than its share of problems, and there was no easy solution.
Still, the delay understandably created havoc with what Devon termed his internal forces. Two months. He felt like a prisoner locked in a cell with a life sentence. Why else would he have felt the need to run ten miles this morning instead of five?
Now, alone with Krystal in her yard, those beautiful eyes gleaming at him, he realized that he could run the globe and it would do nothing to lessen his driving urge to reach the fulfillment he knew he would find in Krystal’s arms.
It wasn’t sex that Devon starved for—though he had a healthy appetite for that—it was her. It had felt as if he had waited a lifetime to find this woman, to love her, to be loved by her.
“I hope you’re not going to expect me to become a fitness nut too. I’ve never worked out in my life, and I know it’s very non-new-millennium, but I have no intention of starting to run now!”
“You don’t have to. You run full energy all the time. We should figure out a way to bottle your energy and sell it.”
“You make me feel like I should run out and buy a home fitness gym,” she teased.
“You don’t have to. You’re made just perfectly for me. Unfortunately I didn’t inherit your exceptional genes.”
The way her eyes ran over his body was both playful and provocative. “You’re genes look terrific to me. Or rather, you looked terrific in your jeans.”
His lips were in her hair, his laughter and his voice teasing her senses. “Ah, that explains it. You have an uncontrollable fetish for denim. I’ve been wondering why you resist seeing me out of them.”
Against his chest, she whispered, “Fritz and Maggie are taking Katie to Portland for the weekend.”
His voice brushed against the sensitive flesh of her ear. “Lucky Katie.”
The telltale softness of her eyes had nothing to do with informing Devon of Katie’s itinerary. “They won’t be getting back until Sunday. I’ll be all alone for two days.”
The message had an immediate effect. The look in his eyes made her tingle. “Lucky me.”
She rubbed the tip of her nose along his shirt. “So have you got a date tonight, Howard, or are you free?”
Krystal the humorist. God he loved her. “You may be saving my life, kiddo.”
I may be ruining your life, kiddo. She tried to shut down that thought, but it came anyway. Devon’s lips were on her neck, kissing a light trail that made her burn.
“Do you want to have dinner or something?” she ventured, breathlessly.
Devon smiled at the naked eagerness blended with nervousness on her sweet face.
“Dinner. Dancing. A trip to the moon. Whatever you want, Krys. And most definitely ‘something’ if you decide you want that, as well.”
“Katie leaves at six,” she whispered, nipping his neck and delighting in his indrawn breath and the tightening of his hands on her back.
“I’ll be here at five after six,” he replied, with only half joking impatience.
“I’ll be ready.”
I am ready, was the message in her eyes. And in her heart she knew it was the truth.
“I love you, Krys.”
Staring up at his wonderful face, with its wealth of smile lines and gemmed eyes, there was no doubt in her heart that that was truth, as well.
Devon did arrive exactly at five after six. What Krystal hadn’t expected was that he fully intended to take her out.
As they drove across Coos Bay to an elegant restaurant on the waterfront, she studied him with eyes full of laughter and so much more.
“I was only joking about a date, Devon. To make it sound less premeditated what we...what I thought we might do.”
He lifted their clasped hands to his lips, kissing each of her fingers with such gentle tenderness.
“I know, Krys. But I’ve waited eight weeks to have you here just like you are now, looking at me like that. I don’t want to shortchange any of that. I want tonight to be perfect. I want to savor each minute of tonight, to stare at you over candlelight, to hold your body in my arms while we dance. I want our first night together to be a memory that we can share fifty years from now and remember how wonderful it made us feel.”
His certainty about the future, his certainly about them, frightened and enflamed her.
Teasing, she exclaimed, “If I experience any more buildup of desire, kiddo, I don’t think we’ll make it through the first course at dinner. For eight weeks I’ve felt as though every cell in my body has been caressed by the most delicious foreplay. How do you expect me to make it through the torture of candlelight and being held in your arms after that?”
When he parked the car, he turned towards her and the low, husky sensuality of his voice made her tremble. “Why don’t we just let what is meant to happen, happen.”
The evening unfolded in enchantment. Devon could turn a perfectly commonplace evening, the type thousands of couples shared each night, into a golden, dreamlike, candlelit adventure. His liveliness, his charm, his stories enchanted her, and later—swaying gently in his arms—so did his dancing.
Sitting beside Devon before the fire in the Miller house, sipping wine, she knew why he had wanted it this way. Every minute had passed as an erotic stirring of the senses. The wait, the building of her want, soothed her worry and eased her gently forward. Just like their quiet talk now, with her head on his shoulder, it was easing her gently forward into his bed.
His quiet voice came to her through her blurring senses. “I don’t imagine you’ve spent many nights in your life like tonight. It must be very different than your evenings with Morgan.”
She rolled over onto her side to see his face better. His expression was too neutral for her to be certain what he had meant by that.
Instead, playfully she countered, “You mean with a man making love to me with his eyes all night? You don’t think very much of my sex appeal, do you?”
“Your sex appeal could make a monk leave the church after a lifetime of celibacy and devoted service to God.” His mood was still impossible to read. “So many hurdles, Krys, and yet here we are. We were so busy battling the obvious, immediate obstacles, we forgot one other possible complication to all this: that you could get your life back as Krystal Stafford. Would there be a place in your life for a perfectly ordinary man.”
She didn’t know, and damn Devon for putting this worry between them now. She had given up trying to guess the f
uture. Given up fighting those reasons not to love him.
If someone had told her two months ago that Devon would have rocketed into her life and she would be taking a reporter as her lover, she would have told them they were crazy. And yet, here they were. Together. Why analyze it further?
“You think you’re ordinary? Compared to who? Einstein? You are exasperating, sexy enough to singe my shoe laces with a single glance, your mind and your humor fascinate me, and at times you’re infuriating as well. But no woman in her right mind would call you ordinary. Who’s to say what’s going to happen? Maybe you won’t want Krystal Stafford and her crazy rat race of a life complicating your ‘perfectly ordinary’ existence. I used to sleep all day, I worked at night, I lived out of suitcases and I spent twenty out of twenty-four hours every day surrounded by men. Who’s to say you’re going to want to put up with me when, and if, that ever happens?”
Reality. Shot at him on a husky little voice with flashing blue eyes for emphasis. God, he loved her.
His lips twitching, he said, “You’re right. You’re no prize. Maybe I should rethink this.”
She missed the teasing glint in his gaze. She was on her feet, staring down at him with eyes snapping with anxiety, uncertainty, and anger.
“Damn, you can be a complicated pain in the butt sometimes. Couldn’t you have given all this some thought before you practically dragged me into this mess you call inevitable? You’ve spent the last three hours undressing me with your eyes, and now you’re having second thoughts. I’m going upstairs. I’m getting into your bed. If you want to change the inevitable now, you’ll have to dump me from the window. Face it, Howard, you’re stuck with me, prize or not!”
Krystal sat on the bed, staring into the fire. Her skin quivered as if she were chilled, but she was pleasantly warm in spite of the skimpy coverage provided by her silk teddy.
Her nails dug into her knees. What if Devon didn’t come? The memory of her tirade brought a smile to her lips, but those very real worries existed. What if they had finally found a barrier that Devon wouldn’t cross, the eventuality of Krystal Stafford in his life?
