He rushed on, not wanting to give her an opportunity to protest. "When something happens to someone I know, someone I care about, the sharing is more acute. If Jimmy Joe fell and broke his arm, my arm wouldn't ache in the same way he was aching, but I'd hurt for him anyway. When you were telling me about the last time you saw your parents, I ached for you, Sarah. There was a dull pain deep inside. That kind of pain can be shared, and the sharing can make it easier to bear."
Jordan's voice died away. He stood waiting. He wondered if he'd managed to express what he was feeling, wondered if she understood what he was trying to say. Could she recognize the real meaning behind his words—a meaning so alien to his own self-image that he was barely able to recognize it himself?
Jordan caught his breath when he saw that her cheeks were wet with tears. Then he looked into her eyes. It was as if he could read her mind. Or perhaps she'd read his. He tried to move away. He was already too involved. He couldn't take anything else from her, not until she knew the truth. But he wasn't strong enough. He wanted her too much. His guilt quivered, faded, then disappeared, replaced by a desire too powerful to be ignored or controlled.
Sarah wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that the sharing he spoke of was more than words. She trembled as the echo of caring she'd heard in his voice washed over her. Unbidden came the memory of the last time he'd held her in his arms. She remembered the sense of oneness, even with the shadow of her secret between them. Never had she been so touched by the sensation of completeness. She wanted it again.
Sarah gave a soft sigh of contentment as he caught a tear with the tip of his finger. She felt the butterfly touch against her cheek and surrendered to temptation. Her hand moved upward to trace the outline of his mouth.
Jordan caught one of her wandering fingers with his lips, nibbled gently along its length, then captured her hand with his and pressed a kiss into her palm. The movement of his lips against her hand sent familiar warmth rippling through her body.
She snuggled into him with neither thought nor reservation, giving herself to the heady feelings of longing and expectation she'd repressed for a lifetime. Her hands went again to his face, then slid around his neck. She pulled his head down, raised herself up on tiptoe and caressed his mouth with a feather-light touch of her lips.
Jordan quivered under her touch, his body matching the trembling of her limbs. He braced himself, feet apart, holding her in the cradle of his body. As he felt the touch of her lips, he managed to resist for one second more.
"Sarah?" His voice was both protest and plea. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"
"I know," she whispered, stretching upward to reach his face once again. She planted a little kiss in the center of his chin, then once again returned to his mouth, her lips parting. He met her gentle explorations, opening his mouth to her.
Her hands slid from the back of his neck, caressing his shoulders, as she lowered her body to its natural five-foot height. Jordan bent with her, his mouth clinging to the sweetness of hers.
He made a sound in the back of his throat and shifted his hold as he lifted her against him, fitting his mouth over hers again.
Sarah recognized the change in the texture of his kiss as it moved from exploration to passion. She wondered at the continued gentleness of his hands and felt the hunger tighten his body. She answered with a quiver of pleasure and the unconscious melting of her own body.
The cushions that usually padded the wooden seats of the gazebo appeared magically beneath them. Sarah didn't know if Jordan had lowered her to the floor or if she had pulled him down to join her. Her only reality was the feel of his hands around her waist, the heat of his body warming that cold, desolate spot she'd carried within her for so many years.
She heard her name whispered against her cheek as his hands lovingly stroked her hair away from her forehead. He whispered her name again as she parted her lips for him, delighting in the slow movements of his tongue.
"Love me," Jordan," she murmured, knowing she was asking for more than relief from the need he had created in her, refusing to acknowledge that it might not be the same for him.
He answered by kissing her even more deeply, his body taut with passion and restraint, his hands gentle as they moved like a whispered promise over her body. She melted at his touch, her body responding to his need.
Enveloped by the sweet, wild fragrance of the honeysuckle growing around the gazebo, Jordan was lost in a world of sensation—a world make real by Sarah. She called to him with her gentle hand, with the music of her voice, with the magic of her eyes.
With shaking hands, she unfastened the buttons of his shirt, allowing herself quick, light touches of her fingers against his skin. Jordan's hand closed over hers. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if willing a return to reason. She sensed his reservations and made a small sound of protest as she moved her hands over his shoulders.
Her need to be held, to be loved, his need to be the one holding her, loving her, conquered the last of his caution. "Ah, Sarah," he whispered raggedly as he released her hand and unfastened the remaining shirt buttons. "Touch me again."
Sarah's fingertips traced the swells and ridges of muscle across his tanned chest. As her nails lightly raked over his nipples, she felt desire ripple through him. She echoed the same desire as his hands removed her clothing and his eyes moved over the feminine curves and silky firmness of her body.
For a long moment, he touched her only with his eyes, fighting the raw need raging in his blood.
"Jordan?" she whispered, not sure what she was asking, but knowing only he could answer.
"It's all right, Sarah," he said, his voice husky and strained. "I won't hurt you."
He extracted a foil packet from his wallet, opened it and rolled the condom into place. Finally, he touched her, with a feather-light caress that moved from her moist lips to the soles of her slender feet.
Sarah's body arced beneath his touch, silently asking for more. His hand moved to her breast, caressing, teasing, until the sensation produced by his touch was indistinguishable from the desire curling in her veins. His lips touched her other breast, his tongue moving over the soft, firm flesh as she moved restlessly beneath him. She moaned as the intimate touch of his mouth unfurled ribbons of passion deep within her.
His hand moved from her breast, lightly stroking downward to her soft secret warmth. He touched her slowly, exploring her intimate secrets, learning the mysteries of her passion and savoring her response to his touch. As he lifted his head, he saw the look of awed wonder in her eyes and froze, tension coiling in his body as he tried to interpret the meaning of her astonishment.
"Sarah? Haven't you—" His voice faltered as he recognized the flicker of uncertainty deep in the blue-green mists of her eyes. He drew a deep shuddering breath into his lungs.
"I'm sorry, Jordan." Her voice was a reedy whisper of pain. "Tell me what I did wrong."
"You did nothing wrong." His lips brushed a quick butterfly kiss against her brow.
"Then what happened? Why did you stop?"
The innocence of her question was almost his undoing. He pulled her into his arms, burying her head against his shoulder in an effort to hide the strain he knew apparent on his face. His mind searched for the right words for the question he needed to ask. "Have you— Have you made love with anyone before?"
"It wasn't like this. I didn't know—didn't feel—" Her voice faltered. "I'm sorry, Jordan."
With that he gathered her even closer, the strain of the last few moments, his own tumultuous hunger, evident in every taut line of is body. To realize that he had produced that look of awe and wonder in her eyes was a precious gift. "No, no, sweetheart. There's nothing to be sorry for. I needed to know. I didn't want to hurt you through ignorance."
He laid her back against the cushions, his own body following her down, stretching full length alongside of her. His lips teased the corner of her mouth, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, then swooped to c
apture her softly trembling mouth. Teeth and tongue moved lightly, probing the moist, secret recesses of her mouth. His hands stroked her small, perfectly formed body, delighting in the tactile sensations of her satin-soft skin, now gently heated with inner warmth that had nothing to do with the hot air of the July afternoon.
He raised his head, golden lights dancing in his eyes, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. "I knew it would be this way with us. From the beginning, I knew. More than shared attraction, physical pleasure. Much, much more...." His voice trailed into silence as once again he obeyed the call of the soft voice muttering low, musical sounds in the back of her throat.
Confident now in her ability to pleasure him as he pleasured her, Sarah let her hands, her lips, roam freely. She explored the different textures of his body, the smooth, heat-flushed skin, the wiry roughness of his cheek and chin, the soft sprinkling of hair running from his chest down the length of his torso.
As he raised himself above her, she welcomed him into the inner core of heat and need as she had already welcomed him into her heart.
He rested quietly for a moment, savoring the delicate sheathing that both satisfied and tantalized. He waited as she adjusted to him, then began to move slowly.
Sarah's cry of wonder was swallowed in the heat of Jordan's mouth as together they reached the pinnacle. Slowly the seething passion subsided, allowing softer currents to wash away the turbulence they'd created, then shared.
Jordan rolled his weight to one side, carefully maintaining physical contact, a tangible assurance that the last few minutes had been more than a fantasy. He realized that until now he'd been incomplete. He read the same secret in the sparkling depths of Sarah's eyes.
Sarah looked into his face and smiled. It was a fey, secret smile of satisfaction and contentment. She wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, only that it would come, as it always did. But at least she would always have today to remember.
Chapter 9
Sarah and her grandmother had started cooking as the first rooster announced the morning. The sun was now ten-o'clock high. When vehicles began arriving at the farm an hour before, she had shooed her grandmother from the kitchen to meet their guests and finished the chicken herself.
Now, with a sense of accomplishment, she removed the last two pieces of golden fried chicken from the frying pan and onto an already heaping platter. Covering the platter with a clean white cloth, she set it on the harvest table beside several similar platters.
The logistics necessary in preparing for the Lutteral clan's annual Fourth of July picnic would have horrified a professional caterer, but over the years the family had devised a system that functioned almost automatically. Each branch of the sprawling family made itself responsible for a particular favorite at the yearly feast. Sarah had mastered Grandmother Lutteral's specialty, a buttermilk-batter fried chicken, while still in her teens.
Sarah slipped her functional apron from around her neck and stepped onto the back porch for a moment of fresh air, lifting the damp hair from the back of her neck to let the slight breeze cool her. Her eyes scanned the large expanse of lawn, now mushrooming with picnic tables made from sawhorses and raw lumber. If the early-morning crowd was any indication, this year's family reunion would be one of the largest in years.
Her eyes shifted to the long driveway that was already lined with various parked vehicles. Jordan's blue SUV was not yet among them. Her lips curved into a smile as she remembered the look on his face when she'd issued both invitation and warning. "Be prepared with evasive answers," she told him. "The great-aunts are notorious for considering the younger generation's love lives, or lack of it, community property. Any unattached single is fair game."
Unbidden, her mind slipped back to their time in the gazebo the afternoon before. She couldn't be sorry it happened, although she realized the significance of those magic moments were more hers than his. Jordan had been unusually pensive when they'd parted the night before.
Sarah drew a deep breath as a sudden dark thought crossed her mind. She hoped he didn't regret it. It had been her choice—her decision. From the moment she'd moved into his arms, she'd known that. They had been a fire ready to burn from the time Jordan returned to Mountain Springs, but Sarah had known the first time she'd taken him to the gazebo, that she was the one who held the match.
Yesterday she had wanted Jordan, needed him. She also knew he wanted her and the togetherness they'd shared was something she'd never believed possible for her. Was it wrong of her to have taken, to have accepted, those few moments of magic? The family would have said so. Most of them, anyway. Would Aunt Cinda?
For some reason, despite all evidence to the contrary, Sarah didn't think so. She and Aunt Cinda were different in the same way. Sarah had known for years that the bonding between people like her grandparents, or the kind of love her parents had shared was impossible for her. True, Aunt Cinda had married and raised a large family. Sarah didn't remember her Great-Uncle Udall at all, but families talked. Sarah knew that Great-Aunt Cinda and her husband had never shared that kind of love.
No, she didn't think Aunt Cinda would criticize or condemn. For a short time Sarah had experienced a bonding that went beyond physical desire. Aunt Cinda wouldn't blame her for grabbing it while she could.
She told herself she wasn't building impossible fantasies. Not really. She knew that sometime soon Jordan would be ready to move on. She promised herself she'd be strong enough to let him go. She frowned at the thought and turned to go inside, already regretting that she and Jordan wouldn't have a moment alone today. Not with the family watching their every move. They'd also promised to take Jimmy Joe to the Springdale Rodeo tonight to watch T.J. compete. For this day, at least, they would again be friends, not lovers. Everything else would have to wait
* * *
Jordan had traveled the distance between the cabin and Mountain Springs so often in the last few weeks that he now drove the road almost automatically. Today the scenery zipping past the windshield was noticed even less. His thoughts were elsewhere.
How had he allowed the intimacy of the previous afternoon to happen? He grinned ruefully to himself. Allowed? He was not, after all, Superman. Sarah had haunted his dreams for weeks. The reality of her had exposed those dreams as pale shadows. Never before had he experienced such complete harmony of body and soul. Her natural, untutored responses to his caresses enthralled, electrified, completely captivated him.
He was no longer the same man who'd driven this road twenty-four hours before. Everything had changed. He was unsure about what happened next. He knew only that nothing could be the same as before.
His brow knit in concentration. Once again he felt vaguely uneasy as he tried to remember their strange parting. They'd been walking through the woodlot and Sarah had said something that disturbed him. Then she'd walked ahead, giving him no chance to comment.
Jordan unconsciously tightened his hands on the steering wheel as he forced his mind to replay the walk from the farmhouse. She'd been trying to explain why she kept her talent secret. He'd seen her tremble, had touched her shoulder. He'd asked a question.
Her small, tired voice replayed in his mind.
"Exposure. Publicity. Threats. If I'm careful..."
Threats? That was the word she hadn't explained. What threats? Why? Those were the questions he needed to ask.
He was used to dealing with questions and answers. He wouldn't waste his time on idle speculation about what she'd meant now, but sometime soon he'd find the opportunity to ask his questions. He wasn't sure why, but he knew they were important.
Although Sarah had warned him that her family was a large one, when he turned into the long, winding driveway leading to the farmhouse the number of vehicles already parked was a surprise. Jordan stopped his vehicle behind the last parked car and climbed to the ground. Jimmy Joe's tousled red head appeared beside him before he'd taken more than a dozen steps.
In one long breath the boy informed him that Sarah h
ad told him to watch for Jordan, that she was waiting for him at the house, and would Jordan please, please, be his partner in the three-legged race just before lunch.
Even as he listened to the chattering boy, Jordan was aware of the curious glances cast their way by small clusters of people as they walked up the driveway. He had met most of Sarah's close relatives—or at least he'd thought he had. The old joke about going home to meet the family had suddenly taken on new dimensions.
He glanced uneasily around him. He couldn't help wondering if they would approve and was amazed to discover that he cared. Trying to ignore the friendly but questioning looks being cast in his direction, he turned his attention to the boy.
"I'll be glad to be your partner, but I might not be very good," he warned Jimmy Joe. "I don't think I've been in a three-legged race before."
"You gotta be better than Cissie," Jimmy Joe said earnestly. "Last year she got the giggles so bad, we fell down."
"Sarah? Giggles?" He'd seen her gay and solemn, light-hearted and pensive, but in the weeks since they'd met, he'd never once seen her giggle. Jordan looked at Jimmy Joe, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief.
"Honest," Jimmy Joe said defensively. "She was giggling so hard, we fell flat on our faces right in the middle of the race. We were beatin' T.J. and Sally, too. Till we fell."
"I believe you, partner. It's just—I've never seen Sarah giggle."
"Well, she don't do it much, not like a lot of girls," Jimmy Joe admitted, "but it weren't no time to start. Not in the middle of a race."
"Okay," Jordan told him, smiling. If you want me to be your partner, I'll do my best. And I promise I'll try not to giggle."
"Then be careful not to get behind my cousin Mabel and her husband," Sarah's quiet voice whispered in his ear.
Jordan turned quickly, drinking in the sight of her. God, she was beautiful. Her smile was soft and welcoming, her eyes that deep blue-green that spoke of mystery and promise. Only a faint shadow of unease lurked in their depths. He stood there, just looking at her, unable to say what he wanted to say, not sure he could trust his voice if he opened his mouth. The space between them seemed alive with an energy, an electricity, that was probably obvious to anyone in sight.
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