Songbird

by Syrie James

  “Have you been with anyone since then?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head. Unbidden tears sprang into her eyes. He smoothed her hair back and kissed away her tears. “Don’t be afraid, Desiree. We can never be certain what the future holds for us. But don’t let that stop you from living, from loving.”

  The tears brimmed over and trickled down her cheeks.

  “Don’t cry, my darling. Don’t cry.” His lips moved across her eyes, cheeks, and chin, and brushed away her tears, absorbing them into his own mouth. “Oh, God, Desiree, I’m sorry.”

  He stretched out on his side and cuddled her close against him, massaging her back and heaving long, steadying breaths as if fighting to regain control over his body. Finally, his voice deep and vibrant, he said, “I didn’t mean to push you into something you’re not ready for. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, my darling. I only want to love you.”

  My darling. A shuddering sigh escaped her control. No one had ever called her my darling. Not even Steve. Until this moment, she didn’t realize how much she’d always longed to hear just those words, in just the way he had said them.

  Her arms looped around his back. Her hands tangled in his hair. Oh, Kyle, she thought. I didn’t want to need you. I didn’t want to want you. But I can’t help myself. I do. Her eyes met his with a wordless plea, revealing the depth of her emotions and desire as she tilted her lips up to his.

  He read her assent in her gaze. With a low moan, he rolled on top of her. His lips touched hers again, with such sensitivity and gentle adoration it took her breath away. His tongue slid between her lips, then encircled hers with a slow, tender intimacy. His hands roamed over her shoulders, then down to caress her breasts through her silky blouse.

  She felt herself relax beneath him. All her reasons to resist drifted away to some dark, forgotten corner of her mind. It’s going to be all right, she told herself. Somehow, he’ll make it right. His hand reached down to unbutton her blouse, and when he reached inside her lacy bra to cup her breast, a shudder of pleasure rocketed through her and she called his name out loud. He raised her up slowly and slid the blouse and wispy bra from her body. At his sharp intake of breath she felt her heart begin to pound.

  “You’re perfect,” he said huskily. He laid her back down and kissed her as his hand covered one throbbing naked breast, fingers stroking gently, seeking to please. With slow, circular motions he kneaded the rose-colored nipple until it sprang to life beneath his thumb. His touch sent tiny jolts of electricity through her, like sparks on a live wire. Soft moans of desire escaped her throat.

  Her hands roamed across his back, then tugged feverishly at his shirt until it pulled free of his waistband. She ran exploring fingers along the bare, smooth skin above his waist, then traced the distinct ridge in the center of his back.

  “I want to see you,” she whispered. With quivering fingers she reached around to grasp the placket of his shirt.

  “Let me help you,” he said softly. He sat up and quickly removed the unwanted barrier between them and let it drop to the floor.

  Her heart beat faster as she gazed at his naked chest. Dark, curly hair covered the taut contours of his upper pectorals, then descended in crisp swirls down the center to a thin, tapering line that disappeared into his pants. She lifted hesitant fingers to his smooth skin, then plowed through his soft chest hair. She sensed a barely leashed passion burning beneath the surface of his skin, and it matched the fire raging beneath her own.

  He slid down on the bed and enclosed the pink, pointed crown of one breast in his mouth. His tongue outlined her rounded nipple, stroked it, teased it. One hand pushed open the front fold of her wraparound skirt and his fingers glided up her slender thigh, massaging a path along its inner, most sensitive parts. Her legs began to tremble. His fingers reached the edge of her bikini panties and toyed with the lacy elastic.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

  “I’m sure.”

  “What about—do I need to—?”

  She felt heat rise to her cheeks. “It’s okay.” She’d been on the Pill for years for health reasons, and she told him so.

  He nodded. As she lifted her hips to help him, he slid her panties down along her legs, over her feet. He untied the wraparound skirt at her waist, then drew the folds apart to view her in her naked splendor.

  “You take my breath away.” His voice was sandpaper-rough. He stretched up over her and fastened his mouth to hers in a fiery kiss. The pressure and texture of his hard, wiry-haired chest against the sensitive tips of her breasts sent ripples of exquisite sensation throughout her body. His hand stroked up the inside of her thigh, ever closer to the center of her femininity. She—

  The phone rang.

  Their bodies stiffened at the same moment. He lifted his head.

  “Don’t answer it,” he whispered.

  She lay frozen beneath him. The ring persisted. She glanced at the bedside dock. It was almost midnight. “Who could it be at this hour?”

  “Does it matter?” He softly trailed his fingertips along her collarbone.

  She took a deep breath, trying desperately to think despite the fire raging throughout her system. “No one would call so late unless it was really important.” She turned sideways and reached for the phone. With a groan he rolled off her.

  “Hello?” Her voice was as unsteady as her hand.

  “Desiree? Thank God you’re home.” She recognized the gravelly voice of Sam, her program director at the station. “The Board Op just called and got me out of bed. He said John’s stuck on the freeway. There’s a tow truck on the way, but he doesn’t know what time he’ll get there. Dave’s already worked two shifts and can only stay another half hour. I need you to substitute until John makes it in.”

  “This isn’t a good time. Did you try Mark or Wayne?”

  “Wayne’s too drunk to stand up straight, and I wasn’t able to reach Mark or anyone else.”

  “I’m sorry Sam, but I can’t go in now.”

  “Dammit, Desiree, don’t give me any excuses. If you don’t do this, we’re dead in the water. You’re the only one I can depend upon.”

  She let out a deep sigh of frustration. “Okay. Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hung up the phone and slid from the bed, her limbs still trembling.

  “What is it?”

  “The night-shift deejay has car trouble.” She explained what happened as she quickly got dressed.

  Kyle cursed loudly and sat up on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said sincerely. “I have no choice.”

  “I know.” But his tone said, That doesn’t make it any easier to take. He bent down and retrieved his shirt from where it lay on the floor. “Would it help if I drive you to the station and wait for you, so you don’t have to drive home alone in the middle of the night?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” She struggled to steady both her breathing and her nerves as she fished in her closet for a pair of flip flops.

  “Then I’ll wait for you here.” He put on his shirt and began to fasten the buttons.

  “No.” She swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze as she slipped into the open shoes. If not for the phone call, they would have made love. She felt certain it would have been wonderful…and she had wanted it…but afterwards…what then? Even if she and Kyle had the most romantic weekend on earth, he’d have to return to Seattle on Monday. How often would she see him after that? For a day or two every other week at the beginning, if they were really lucky? Or only once a month? How long would that go on before they both realized it wasn’t working, or he met someone else who lived closer to home? She didn’t want to think about the wretched loneliness of those long months of forced separation from Steve. No. No. She couldn’t do that to herself again.

  Reluctantly, she said, “I think it’d be best if you went back to the hotel.”

  “What?” He was incredulous. “Are you serious
?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re going to kick me out now, after this—” he gestured toward the bed beneath him “—at this hour?”

  “You have a hotel room in L.A., don’t you?”

  “No. I checked out this morning.”

  Her mouth opened in surprise. “Why? You bought the tickets for tonight’s show…you didn’t plan to fly home today.” It was statement of fact, not a question.

  “Right.” He stood up and tucked his shirt into his pants. “I planned to stay here tonight. Maybe the weekend.”

  She stared at him, dismayed consternation prickling through her. “You planned to stay here?”

  He blew out an exasperated breath. “Not here, in your bed. I was going to find a motel closer to your house.”

  She strove for a carefully controlled tone. “And when exactly did you plan to do that? After you found out whether or not you’d score?”

  “What? No.”

  “Is that what the roses and dinner and show were all about—a perfectly-planned seduction? Do you play this little game on all your business trips? Pick up the first woman you find and see how long it’ll take her to go to bed with you?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, Desiree regretted them. She wasn’t sure why she’d said them. Was she trying to make him angry? In all fairness, she knew that she was as much to blame for what had happened between them as he was. She’d invited him in, had responded to his caresses, had urged him on even when he’d offered to stop.

  But she was thinking more clearly now. Now, if she explained everything about her past, would he understand her feelings? She doubted it.

  In her peripheral vision she could see a muscle twitch in his jaw.

  “Desiree,” he said quietly, “I don’t make a game of seducing women, on business trips or anywhere else. I took you out the past few nights because I wanted to be with you. It’s that simple. I planned to book another room this afternoon.”

  “Well, that phone call was a wake up call. It came just in time. It stopped me from doing something I think I’ll regret.” Avoiding his eyes, she added, “What happened just now was a mistake.”

  “Mistake? It was no mistake, Desiree, and you know it.” He darted forward, his lips thinning in irritation as he stared down at her. “You’ve been running hot and cold since the moment we met. The last two nights you backed off like a scared rabbit. This afternoon you were only too willing to let me hold you and kiss you. A few minutes ago you responded to me like a woman on fire—you fanned every spark. And now you’re telling me to get lost? What kind of game are you playing? What kind of woman are you?”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on:

  “Don’t tell me. I already know. When I first heard you on the air, I thought you had a cute radio act with your sultry voice and all those none-too-subtle sexual innuendos. Until a few minutes ago, I thought the real you was different: a warm, caring person, capable of honest emotions. But I see now it’s all part of the act. You’re just a clever tease.”

  She gasped, her cheeks stinging as if she’d been slapped. Tears stung her eyes, and she grasped for something to say in reply. But he continued:

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Desiree. You’re a real pro. You’ve got this thing down to a science. You know how to lead a man on, get him breathless, and then cut off his air supply. Did you arrange for that phone call to come when it did? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  He flung himself away from her, grabbed his vest, then stopped in the doorway and fixed her with an icy, ironic stare. “It was nice knowing you, Desiree.”

  His footsteps pounded against the hall floor. Her stomach lurched as she heard the door slam with ominous finality. Then she buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

  ***

  Desiree slammed down her ceramic mug on the kitchen table, causing hot coffee to slosh over the rim and burn her fingers.

  “Damn, damn, damn!” She grabbed a sponge and cleaned up the spill, then slumped back in her chair, staring moodily at the arrangement of long-stemmed roses next to the open kitchen window. Sunlight sparkled like diamonds on the tall, cut-glass vase and burnished the perfect red buds to a velvety sheen. Why did I bother to bring them home from the station? she wondered. I should have just let them stay there and wither.

  She hoped Kyle had driven straight to the airport the night before and taken the first morning flight to Seattle. I don’t need him to complicate my life, she told herself. She was glad it was over before they’d had a chance to get too involved.

  Yeah, right, she scolded silently. If she was so glad it was over, then why did it take fifteen minutes to pull herself together after he left, before she could trust herself to drive to the station? Why did she spend half of her time on the air in those early morning hours wiping away tears?

  Because he wounded you, she reminded herself. You knew you were going to get hurt. It just happened a lot sooner—and in a different way—than you expected. She wrapped her arms around her chest, anger curling inside her as she recalled the cruel things he’d said to her last night.

  You know how to lead a man on, get him breathless, and then cut off his air supply. Did you arrange for that phone call to come when it did? I wouldn’t put it past you.

  How dare he say that? He’d called her a tease! Incapable of emotion!

  A sudden flush of guilt washed over her, causing her anger to waver. If she was honest with herself, in her private confusion with regard to her wants and feelings, she had given him very contradictory signals. His anger was actually very understandable. But still…

  The now familiar sound of the Maserati engine pulling into the driveway made her jump. He was here?

  Her stomach knotted with anxiety. In part, she was relieved that he’d come back; it would give her a chance to apologize for the way she’d behaved. Maybe he’s come to apologize too, she hoped. But then she remembered the jacket and tie still draped over the chair in her living room. Of course. The efficient businessman wasn’t here to say he was sorry—he’d had his final say last night. He’d only returned to wrap up all the loose ends.

  When she heard his knock, Desiree crossed the living room and flung open the door, determined to hold onto her anger and let him speak first. But on seeing him, her heart went into a skid.

  In no way did he resemble an angry entrepreneur come to retrieve lost property. In his present, casual state of dress he looked more like a handsome Olympic athlete, and his expression as their eyes collided was apprehensive, hesitant, contrite.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hi.” The raspy, high-pitched response didn’t sound like her own voice. She couldn’t help but stare at him, transfixed, one hand glued to the doorknob.

  He wore a navy-blue polo shirt, open at the neck. The short sleeves stretched over his well-formed biceps. His legs, long and lean beneath crisp white shorts, were braided with flexible-looking muscles and covered with the same curly dark hair that graced his arms and chest. In one hand he carried a small, white paper bag.

  “I’m glad you’re up,” he said. “I was afraid I’d wake you.”

  “Oh…no. I didn’t have to work too late. John arrived about half past two.” She noticed dark circles under his eyes and wondered if she had them, too.

  Her pounding pulse told her how glad she was to see him. Suddenly, in her mind, they were no longer standing like statues in the doorway. They were back in each other’s arms last night and he was saying, “You know how I feel about you...I don’t want to hurt you, my darling. I only want to love you.”

  She’d wanted him last night. She still did. If he’d said some cruel things in the heat of anger, it was partly her fault. She had provoked him.

  She swallowed hard and glanced down at the paper bag he was holding. “What’s that?”

  “A peace offering.”

  She took the bag he extended, reading his unspoken apology in his eyes. Her heart flinched when he quickly withdrew
his hand as if afraid to touch her.

  “Croissants!” she cried with true delight when she looked inside.

  “Freshly baked this morning. Okay if I share one with you?”

  She stood back and opened the door wide. “Of course.”

  He stepped inside. “Should we put them in the oven to warm up?”

  She nodded. He brushed past her to the kitchen and turned on the oven. She followed.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” she offered.

  “I’d love one. Thanks.”

  They engaged in small talk at the tiny kitchen table as they sipped their coffee and ate the hot, buttery pastries. He made no further reference to their argument, and she felt too uncomfortable to bring it up. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, to tell him how sorry she was. But he seemed a bit distant, reserved. Was he still angry with her? What was he thinking? Why had he come?

  When he’d drained his cup, Kyle sat back in his chair and gave her a small smile. “So. Do you have any plans for today?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. Because I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?”

  “After last night—” He checked himself, frowning, then went on: “What we need is to get out and have some fun. And I’ve got it all arranged. I’m going to take you for a ride in the sky.”

  A stab of alarm pierced through her. “What do you mean?”

  “I arranged to rent a plane from the Long Beach Pilots’ Club.” He grinned like a child who’d just gotten out of school for the summer. “I’m taking you to Catalina Island for the day.”

  Seven

  “Catalina Island?” Desiree’s eyes widened in dismay. She’d almost forgotten he had a pilot’s license, that he liked to fly. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “Why would I be kidding?” Kyle asked.

  “Because I told you, I don’t like to fly. Commercial flights are one thing, but I won’t go up in a small plane.”

  “Desiree: you’ll love it. I promise.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his face eager with excitement. “It’s a thrill you can’t even imagine until you’ve experienced it.”