by Linda Barlow
"Nothing's going to happen between you and me. I've already told you, you're too narrow-minded and judgmental for me." She paused, and then added, "My mother's getting old, and she's always been a little cracked. She's living in retirement now, she's not very healthy, and she's not doing readings or séances. I hardly think she's an appropriate target for one of your muckraking attacks."
He shrugged, but his eyes were hard. He was a complex personality, she thought: hot and cold, harsh and gentle, driven in his professional pursuits and rather brutally honest. She couldn't resist comparing him once again to Arthur, who had been even-tempered and genuinely kind. Kindness was a virtue she valued highly. There was too much cruelty and aggression in the world. She didn't want to get mixed up with a man whose professional goals demanded that he ruthlessly hunt down a harmless woman and expose her in the public stocks of the mass media.
"I have to go." She thrust her hand into her jeans and pulled out her wallet. Before she got it open, his hand came down over hers.
"Not this time. I suggested this, and I'm paying. As for your mother, let's put that subject aside. All I care about right now is you. I want you, and there's no way I'm letting you walk out of my life."
The steel underlying his words both chilled and excited her. Dear heavens, the man was persistent! She put her credit card away. Let him pay, dammit. "I'm sorry, but I need to leave."
He rose when she did. "Then I'm coming with you."
"You can't."
"Stop me."
She thrust her arms into her fleece jacket and turned to stalk toward the door. Daniel pulled on his own jacket, tossed some cash on the table and followed.
"Are you going to make a scene?"
"I am trying to be a gentleman. Watch, I'll demonstrate." He made a show of holding the door open for her and bowing as she stepped out into the street. "Forgive me. I've made the lady angry," he added in an exaggeratedly humble tone.
She caught the teasing look in his eyes and found herself stifling a smile. Arrogance she could resist, but his unpredictable bursts of humor left her defenseless.
"I've already told you, Kate, I won't do anything to hurt you." He paused, then added, his rueful tone testifying to the cost of his concession, "Or your mother, either, if she's really as old and feeble as you say she is."
Kate reflected guiltily that her mother wasn't as old and feeble as she'd intimated, but she kept that thought to herself.
The wind made her shiver as it whistled around the buildings in Harvard Square. The unseasonable cold they had been having this month hadn’t let up. September was usually much warmer in Boston. Daniel's arm came around her shoulders, as if to shelter her from the wind. "If it makes you feel better, I won't interview her without your permission. Or hers."
She tried to shrug free, unsure whether she could trust him. "Is that a promise?"
"Yes," he said, drawing her closer. "Relax," he added, his breath hot against her ear. "You're as slippery as a fish."
And as easily hooked, she thought sadly. "I am a fish. A Pisces."
He pulled a face. "So you're into astrology as well?"
His easy, amused tone disarmed her, and she began to feel she might have been precipitous in her desire to escape. He couldn't be as ruthless as she'd thought if he was really willing to give up his plan to harass her mother for her sake.
She allowed him to walk her back toward the underground garage. She might as well let him drive her home. It was a bit too chilly to stand outside waiting for the bus. Besides, she had left her gym bag in his car. "We psychics are all into astrology. When's your birthday, Daniel?"
"I'm not going to tell you."
"Why not?"
"You'll say we're incompatible and use it as an excuse to keep up this stubborn coyness of yours."
"Graham has you pegged as a Scorpio. Were you born in November?"
"Nope. So much for Graham's wisdom."
"Too bad. Pisces and Scorpio are among the most compatible lovers in the zodiac."
He brightened. "If I were a Scorpio, would you make love with me?"
Since he wasn't born in November, she risked a light answer. "I might consider it. Graham says the sex would be hot."
They had reached the entrance to the garage. It got dark as they descended the stairs to the lower level, and she was conscious of the increasing pressure of Daniel's arm around her. "I am a Scorpio."
"I don't believe you. When's your birthday?"
"You're going to laugh."
"Tell me."
"I was born on your favorite day of the year."
"What does that mean?"
He maintained a mock stubborn silence as they walked through the quiet garage toward the car, but he finally gave in and answered, "October thirty-first, witch."
She did laugh, delightedly. Then she stopped, because they had reached the car and he was pressing her up against it and kissing her fiercely. Their bodies melted together, and fire leaped through her. "So you are a Scorpio," she murmured against his lips.
"And the sex will be very, very hot."
His gloved hands threaded through her hair and held her motionless while his mouth played teasingly on hers. She gasped as his tongue wet the surface of her lips, and then traced tiny patterns over her cheeks and eyelids. The damp butterfly kisses were deliciously erotic, and she was passive for only a few moments before her fingers slipped into his hair and pulled his face closer to hers.
"Mmm," he groaned deep in his throat. Their tongues touched, and Kate's limbs grew heavy with desire. She pressed against him, crushing her breasts against his chest. The kiss deepened. His tongue stroked hers with devastating expertise. Bursts of liquid warmth exploded inside her. His hands slid down her back and kneaded her bottom, drawing her lower body into the cradle of his hips. He felt wonderful. He was hard, and she loved feeling it, knowing that she had made him so. Her head tilted back as his kisses moved ravenously down her throat. She sighed, wanting him, needing what he offered. Her loins ached as she absorbed and returned the pressure of his thighs against her own. He put both hands on her hips and held her still while he rocked against her in a manner that made her limp, hot and barely aware of who she was or what she was doing.
"Kate," he whispered. He took up the word in a breathless litany of "Kate, Kate, Kate." He sounded as incoherent as she felt. His body trembled; his face was flushed and damp against her own. He slid them both sideways along the car until she was leaning against the hood; then his strong arms lifted her so she was sitting on it. She nuzzled his throat with her lips and teeth as he parted her legs and stood in close between her thighs. His arms reached around to support her back as he insinuated himself still more tightly against her. His lovely cock was pressed right up between her legs. She imagined it sliding into her. She moaned his name. Her legs curled around him, and she clung to him as if the world was coming to an end and he would be wrenched away from her.
One of his hands jerked open her jacket and sought her breasts. His gloves made him clumsy, so he bent his head and tore one of them off with his teeth in a gesture that was savagely exciting. She let out a gasp as his bare hand slid under her sweater, pushed up her fragile bra, and took her flesh into his palm.
"You feel so good." His fingertips drew teasing circles around the peak of her captured breast, making her moan and shudder in his arms. He forced the sweater up as his head came down, and he kissed her breasts. His scruffy cheeks were harsh against her bare skin, but it felt delicious. Her nipples had turned to hard, burning points, and she thought she would die if he didn't take them in his mouth. She held his head against her while his body pressed rhythmically now, signaling his need and stoking hers to a fever pitch. She squirmed against his cock, wishing the clothing down there would simply vanish so their union could be complete. She wanted him inside her. She was spinning on waves of explosive sexuality, tossed on a storm of desire that was much more intense than anything in her experience.
She was tearing at hi
s jacket, longing to touch his naked flesh as he was touching hers, when a sudden arc of light distracted her. The headlights of another car beamed down on their entwined figures as somebody entered the garage. Kate buried her face on Daniel's shoulder in a sudden rush of embarrassment and slid from the car hood to her feet, her body moving deliciously along Daniel's as she regained her balance.
"Oh my god, we're in a public garage," she said, trying to catch her breath.
He had already adjusted her clothing for modesty's sake, and he sheltered her protectively against him as the car passed them. Then he reached out and flung open the car door. "Get in. We'll go to my place."
Trembling, she obeyed, sitting down and fastening her seat belt with shaking fingers. Her panties were slick and damp. Wow, she thought as her mind sluggishly began working again. This was wild. She couldn't recall ever feeling such intense, mindless lust with Arthur.
A shaft of disloyalty stabbed her, cutting right through her desire. How could she feel such yearning for Daniel when her sexual feelings for her gentle, kind husband had been tame in comparison? It didn't seem right somehow.
Maybe she just didn't remember how it had felt back then. She had been alone too long. Her natural urges had been stifled by her grief, and now that the grief had finally receded, those urges were burgeoning forth, clamoring for expression, making her eager to snatch the pleasure this very exciting man was offering. What had Jeff told her? The chemistry was a gift. It would make things easy. She should seize the gift and take joy in this aspect of living once again. It was time.
And yet… how would she feel when her physical demands were met? How would Daniel feel? He still thought she was a fake, a fraud. He still wanted to humiliate her mother.
"We’re going too fast," she said as the Porsche sped out of the garage and into the light of morning. She closed her eyes against the brightness. "This just isn’t right for me."
The car jerked as he shifted recklessly. "Don't say that." His voice was taut. "No second thoughts."
"Do you think it's any easier for me?" She sat upright in her seat and glared at him. "Women are as capable of gut-wrenching lust as men are, and the frustration hurts us just as much."
"I know that. But neither of us is committed to another partner, so there's no reason for you to condemn us both to frustration."
"There's one very good reason. I'm not ready yet."
"Yet?" he repeated, zeroing in on the operative word. "Do you want me to wine you and dine you for a couple of weeks first? You can't accept the explosive chemistry between us until some decorous courting period has elapsed? Is that it?"
"No, that's not it."
"You won't even accept a normal sort of date with me."
"I know. I'm sorry. Just take me home, please. To my house, I mean."
Instead, he slammed on the brakes and pulled the car over to the side of the road. By some miracle, a parking place had opened up, and he slid the car into it and shut off the motor. Her entire body tensed as he turned to her, a grim look etched on his face. He noted her stiffness, and his eyes turned sardonic. "Relax. I can take no for an answer. I just hate to, dammit."
She smiled faintly and relaxed against the seat. He has a beautiful mouth, she thought involuntarily, staring at it. Desire twisted in her again.
Daniel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Kate stared at his thick eyelashes, which were even denser than her own. His face was drawn with emotion, and she felt an unexpected tenderness for him.
"You said yourself that I was a man of unruly passions," he reminded her, raising his lashes again. "You were right. You also said sex was important to me. You were right about that, too." The look in his blue eyes intensified. "I've been tortured since I met you. I lie in bed at night, unable to sleep, tormented by fantasies of you. If I weren't so positive that witchcraft and voodoo and all the black arts were a crock of bull, I'd be certain you'd put a spell on me."
"Daniel, I—"
"I'm going to ask you one question, and I need an honest answer. What does it mean, you're not ready yet? Are you ever going to be ready? Just how serious were you when you told me last week that you don't sleep with men? Are you afraid of sex? What the hell is the matter with you?"
She felt herself smile. "That's five questions."
One hand cupped her chin, forcing her to face him. "Answer me."
"Okay." She urged herself to be as honest as he was. "You're not the only one who lies awake at night and fantasizes. I was attracted to you the instant I saw you, leaning up against the wall at that party and glowering at me."
There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Go on."
"I'm not afraid of sex. Sex is awesome. The trouble is, I was very much in love with Arthur."
"Your husband?"
"Yes. He was the only lover I've ever had. We started dating in high school, when I was fifteen years old. We were both virgins, and we learned about sex together, taking it slowly and amazed at everything we discovered. It was always a very intimate act for us."
She could see Arthur then, in her mind's eye, on their last night together—the night before the accident. They had made love so sweetly, and he had smiled at her, his fingers framing her face as he'd gazed into her eyes and whispered, "Forever and ever, Katie. I adore you, and we'll always be together." Never had it entered their minds that this would be the last time they made love.
Did you ever know it was the last time? Couples broke up, separated, divorced, and if you were young and very unlucky, sometimes your partner died. If you had known you were making love for the final time, would it be different? Would you try to make it even more special, or would the sadness of the coming separation make it horribly sad?
She shook her head, trying to push the vivid memory away, but it was gnawing at her insides, making her feel as though she might start to sob. She fought the feeling. She hadn't cried for months, and this wasn't the time. "I'm sure it sounds really lame and old-fashioned," she plunged on, "but I just can't leap into bed with a man I hardly know. I wish I could. My life has been so empty since he died." Another wave of sorrow engulfed her, and she was mortified to feel her eyes begin to water. She coughed, trying to hide it. Arthur was gone, and she had grieved deeply for him. Why wouldn't the pain fade, lessen, go away?
She was about to lose it, dammit. She didn't want that to happen, not while she was with Daniel. Her grief was too private. This was exactly what she had been avoiding dating. She had never learned how to do the casual, get off in bed but don't feel any deeper emotions thing.
Showing more tact that she would have given him credit for, Daniel said, "Let's go for a walk along the river. It's a bit windy, but we should be all right. Come on."
The tasks of removing her seatbelt and tightening her jacket against the wind gave her the moment she needed to recover, and she was grateful to him for providing her with that escape. By the time they had crossed Memorial Drive and strolled down to the riverbank, she had succeeded in swallowing her tears and gaining control of her uncharacteristically wayward emotions.
* * *
A half hour later, after a brisk walk along the Charles River with Daniel companionably holding her hand, Kate sat beside him once again as he drove her home. The walk had been pleasant. The crisp air had brought on the colorful glory of autumn a bit earlier than usual, and the tree-lined streets of the city were ablaze in bright reds, oranges, and yellows. It was beautiful. She loved the fall. Even so, she was glad to be back in his car. The morning had clouded over, and it looked as though the hurricane that was churning off the coast might bring some in some nasty weather.
They hadn't talked a lot, but the silence felt comfortable. His expressive eyes had offered her sympathy and understanding, along with a calm acceptance of her grief. He didn't seem to consider it strange that she was still mourning her loss. If he thought it lame that she hadn't had sex for three years, he gave no hint of it.
As a result, she felt more at ease with him than she
had felt since they'd met. Her respect for him had increased, as had her affection. Daniel Haggarty was turning out to be a good deal kinder than she had originally thought.
Maybe she should just go ahead and get naked with him. He hadn't said it, but the bitter truth was undeniable: Her idyllic relationship with Arthur was over forever. She had avoided sexual intimacy for three years, and her body was rising up now in rebellion against the persistent self-denial. It wasn't realistic to keep reining in her natural desires because she didn't feel the same emotional bond with Daniel that she'd felt with Arthur. She was just getting to know Daniel, and the bond might grow between them.
On the other hand, it might not. She shivered, hugging herself. She was such a mess!
"Cold?" asked Daniel, turning up the heat.
"Uh, no, not really."
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing much."
He pursed his lips, looking strained again. A couple of moments passed before he said, "I want to see you tonight. I'll make dinner for you. How about that? I'm not a bad cook, you know."
"I'd like to, but I can't; not tonight."
"Kate, I respect your feelings, and I understand your reservations. I can't promise you anything at this point; I'd be a liar if I said I could. I want you desperately, but I'll do my best not to coerce you into bed before you're ready. I'll do anything you want, in fact, except go away. So stop arguing. We're going to get to know each other better, and we're going to start by being together tonight."
"I really can't," she said with genuine regret. "I'm working tonight." A Doll's House was being presented this evening at a local university theater, freeing up the company's own theater. The Macbeth cast would be running a full rehearsal there after the matinee performance of the Ibsen play.
