A Distant Summer

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “All right. I’m here now.”

  She released a shaky breath and made another attempt to gather her scattered thoughts, but composure evaded her grasp. “Maybe I should take another shower first,” she said with a slight smile.

  His leisurely smile slanted with a tender amusement. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He lifted his hand to indicate the faded clothes he wore. “If this were a contest to determine who gets first turn in the bath, I’d win hands down. You look as fresh as cow’s milk.” He grimaced. “I’m beginning to pick up the Maple Ridge dialect. Definitely time for a shower.”

  “Then we’ll talk,” she said, finally finding a steady voice.

  “If that’s what you want.” He moved toward her, and Kris backed away as he approached. His expression creased with concern as he noted her defensive steps, and he stopped beside her, his hand lifting tentatively to her face. “What is it, Kristina? What’s wrong?”

  His palm felt warm against her cool cheek, and the woodsy scent of sunshine clung to his skin. She looked into his eyes and knew the exquisite ache of desire. She could taste the sweet memory of his kiss on her lips, remembered the hard symmetry of his body. Helplessly her tongue skimmed the contours of her mouth. “Tucker, I....” Kris stopped, and her sigh trembled between them. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

  He nodded a puzzled agreement and left her standing alone in the hallway.

  It was only a little more than a quarter of an hour before he joined her in the living room, but she’d had enough time to bolster her composure. Not quite enough time, though, to be prepared for the sight of him clad in Levi’s and nothing more. Her gaze went to the cluster of dark curls on his chest, dropped to his bare feet, and rose again to meet his eyes before continuing upward to the damp disarray of freshly washed hair. He rubbed a towel haphazardly over his head and smiled in his quiet, special way.

  “Sorry, I know I’m underdressed, but I got a little too much sun today. You don’t mind, do you?”

  This wasn’t fair. Without a word he’d put her at a disadvantage. His manner, his total lack of tension, the confident curve of his mouth undermined her self-control. He didn’t look sunburned. He looked ... wonderful. And her senses throbbed a message to her brain that had nothing to do with wanting to talk.

  Taking her silence as acquiescence, Tucker advanced farther into the room and stood behind the sofa. He continued towel-drying his hair as he watched Kristina turn to face him. Her expression mirrored the calm of a summer sky, but her eyes were stormy gray.

  “I suppose you’ve heard the rumors,” she said tentatively.

  He slowed the movements of the towel. “What rumors?”

  “About you. About ... us.”

  “Don’t tell me someone’s been gossiping about us.” He lightened his tone with a hint of teasing but waited in vain for her smile.

  “You know what’s being said as well as I do, Tucker.” An edge of exasperation found its way into her voice, and she half turned away from him. “Everyone thinks you intend to stay here and work at the new hospital.”

  “And?”

  A frown threatened the corner of her mouth as her gaze went to his bare chest. A sudden longing tightened her throat and didn’t ease when she raised her eyes to his. “And they’re saying that we — ” She hesitated momentarily. “They’re saying you and I are well matched.”

  “I agree with them, Kris. I think we’re almost a perfect match, don’t you?”

  “This is serious, Tucker. It isn’t right for you to stay in Maple Ridge any longer. Already you’ve raised expectations that you can’t possibly mean to fulfill, and—”

  “That has the ring of an accusation. Have I raised your expectations? Is that what this is all about?”

  “No! I’m talking about the people of this community, my neighbors and friends.”

  “Mine as well.”

  “Only because of me.”

  His temper began a slow rise. “You don’t have a monopoly on friendships in this or any other town, Kris.”

  “But I’m not the one who’s allowing my friends to believe I’ll be the new hospital administrator.”

  He clenched his irritation into the folds of the towel and then let it slide to the floor. “I have no intention of becoming any kind of administrator no matter what the entire population of Maple Ridge cares to believe. I’m not sure I even want to be a surgeon anymore. But I know for damn certain that I’m not going to stand here and defend myself. I haven’t lied to anyone in this town, least of all you.”

  She brushed a sweaty palm over the tan fabric of her slacks. “I don’t think you’ve lied, Tucker. I think you’re raising unfair expectations when you let the townspeople believe you’re planning to become a permanent resident.”

  “And I think you’re being unfair when you assume I won’t choose to do exactly that.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Is it inconceivable to you that I might want to live here? That I could enjoy the kind of life you enjoy?” His heart flinched at the look of panic on her face and at the visibly trembling fingers that touched her lips and then the knot of braided hair at her neck. In that instant of utter quiet Tucker recognized a raw physical need to possess her, to take advantage of her vulnerability, to strip away the careful façade and make her admit that she cared.

  “You can’t stay in Maple Ridge, Tucker,” she said in a stilted whisper. “It would make everything so ... difficult.”

  The intensity of his desire blurred into a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Why?”

  She pivoted to the window, rubbing her hand over the sill, hiding her thoughts from him, and suddenly he crossed the distance between them and turned her to face him. Wide gray eyes stared up into his, and the longing to kiss her almost overwhelmed him. Instead, he tightened his hold on her shoulders. “Tell me why, Kristina.”

  “I told you from the beginning that you shouldn’t expect anything more from me than friendship.”

  “And have I?”

  “Yes! You expected me to — to fall in love with you, to be your lover.”

  “But that hasn’t happened, Kris, has it?”

  “No, not….” Yet. She caught herself before she said what she felt, but his heart heard her qualification and began to beat a faint rhythm of hope. “It isn’t going to happen either,” she continued. “I won’t let myself become any more involved with you than I am at this moment.”

  “And how involved with me are you?”

  She floundered at that. He could see the distress in her expression and knew that she was preparing to deny any involvement at all. He spoke first to prevent her lie. “After all, rumor has us practically married. I’d say that’s pretty involved, wouldn’t you? Have you been raising unfair expectations among your neighbors and friends, Kris? Or do I take the blame for that as well?”

  “Don’t, Tucker. I’m only trying to discuss the situation with you.”

  “You’re trying to do something, Kris, but discussion isn’t the right word for it. Are you looking for an argument? An excuse, maybe, to get me out of your house? If that’s what you want, just say so.”

  She bent her head, and Tucker stared down at the gossamer sheen of her hair. God, how he wanted to weave his fingers into the shiny blond strands. He wasn’t leaving this house, no matter what she might say.

  “I want to end this, Tucker.” The words came low and muffled, and he leaned close to hear. “The rumors, the expectations, everything. You’re the only one who can do that. Please, Tucker, let it end.”

  Maybe if he hadn’t been standing so near to her, maybe if she hadn’t lifted her face to his as she made the almost desperate-sounding plea, maybe then he would have tried harder to understand. But with the silken caress of her breath on his skin, he couldn’t think, didn’t want to analyze. Not when there was a simpler, more tempting interpretation waiting on her lips.

  Heart pounding, all hesitation gone, he lowered his
mouth to hers, felt the tremor that coursed through her at his first gentling touch and knew he loved her. Completely. Without reservation. As the kiss deepened, his arms closed around her slenderness, and his love opened to draw her irrevocably into his soul’s embrace. Her hands lay passively against his chest for only a moment before they slid up and around his shoulders to hold him as he was holding her.

  This then was the end of it, he thought. This wild, tender explosion of sensation was the end of falling in love and the beginning of so much more. This was the end of the tension, the wary courting. It was the end of expectation and the dawn of reality.

  Kristina.

  Tucker.

  A husky murmur of longing floated to her ears, and Kris wondered if she had spoken his name aloud. She wanted to; she wanted to hear the rhythmic sound of it, wanted to taste the wonder of his name on her tongue. But she would not separate herself from him, not willingly, not again. This was the end of her resistance. She had neither the strength nor the will to fight a love that had begun long before this moment of acknowledgment.

  She was in love with Tucker. There would not be an end to that. Even now the feel of his skin against her fingertips seemed a pleasure she had always known, as familiar to her as the touch of morning sunlight. And she welcomed his return to her arms with the same sweet acceptance.

  Her lips clung to his tenderness; her thoughts clung to the truth dawning within her. She had believed his leaving would end her conflict, would return her life to its normal pattern. But she had deceived only herself. Tucker had known how she felt. He had understood the emotions, the words she hadn’t said. And he had ended the lie with the honesty of his kiss.

  “Kristina.” It was a rough, warm whisper against her cheek, a soothing promise to the wild, pulsing beat of her desire. His lips feathered along the curve of her chin, lingered at the corners of her mouth, touched her nose, her eyelids, her temple, stole her breath, and then revived it with his own. He retraced the design until she was weak with wanting him, until she had no strength for anything but the loving.

  Her hands caressed him, murmuring a silent message of admiration and urgency over the powerful slope of his shoulders. His body was so muscular, so smooth and firm, and she wondered at the gentle pressure of his embrace, which made her feel safe and cherished and small, yet she was aware that he was surrendering as much to her as she was to him.

  She touched him freely, allowing her fingertips and her lips, to know and communicate the full extent of her exquisite delight. This was the morning of their love, and she wouldn’t turn her face from its warming glow. It might be transient, fleeting, offering only a short span of sunlight until the secret night would separate them. But she could not turn away.

  She fitted into the symmetry of his masculine angles as if she had been formed for that purpose. And perhaps she had. Tucker seemed to take that intriguing possibility for granted. His hands cupped her hips, aligning her against him with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

  When his lips discovered the sensitive hollows of her neck, Kristina found the roughly soft covering of hair on his chest and eased her fingers into its damp tangle. Shivers of wonder wrapped themselves around her, and the empty feeling inside her became a slowly burning need.

  With a low, throaty murmur of longing Tucker lifted his head and looked into her eyes as he began to coax the buttons of her blouse apart. It was a leisurely persuasion that held her motionless, almost breathless, in a world that consisted solely of blue eyes and a gentle touch, a world that belonged only to her and to Tucker. She was lost in the enchantment, lost to all but this new knowledge of a love shared. For that was the true magic —the love that had grown despite her wish.

  It shouldn’t be. It was rooted in a past that stretched cloying tendrils into the future. Yet she felt the sweet innocence of the existence of this love that she had never hoped to know, never dared dream he might share.

  The fabric of her blouse slipped away, and her skin tingled with the pleasing awareness of his gaze. Kristina didn’t know or care how he undressed her; she was conscious only of wanting him to do so. She offered encouragement with slow strokes of her palms from his shoulders along the corded muscles of his arms to his wrists and then back to the beginning point. Desire was a melting sensation deep within her.

  When at last she was clothed only in his admiring look, she lifted her hands to her hair. In a matter of seconds it tumbled about her shoulders, a cascade of disheveled silver and gold, a symbol of the emotion she wanted to voice, the intimacy she wanted to know.

  There was a seductive shyness in her movements as she lowered her arms and waited for Tucker’s response. It wasn’t intentional, simply a result of her own disquieting passion, a realization that no matter how many times he had made love to her, this was different.

  The words, the spoken confirmation were an intangible part of this joining. She sensed that he was savoring the silence, waiting to tell her how he felt, just as she was testing the weight of her own emotion, trying to shape it into syllables. She didn’t really believe “I love you” would be said by either of them for a while. It was too newly discovered, too unfamiliar, too special. And Kristina knew that once said, it would bring irrevocable changes to them both. But she would tell him when the moment was right. No matter what had happened in the past or what would happen in the future, Tucker deserved to hear her say it.

  He removed his clothes and held out his hand to her. She accepted it without hesitation, going to him and lifting her face to his. For long, quiet seconds she stood waiting for the kindling stroke of his kiss, wanting, needing to feel the texture of his masculinity against her skin. When he bent his head and his breath mingled with hers, Kris gave up the waiting. She pressed into the shelter of his body and captured him in her arms.

  Together they sank to the carpet and began the timeless ritual of caressing and responding to the sensual pleasure of each other. His hand at her ankle made a tantalizing foray upward. His lips at her breast heated the ache in her stomach to a fevered passion.

  When he shifted his weight and filled the emptiness inside her, Kris cried out softly at the sweet tenderness of their union. Tucker was gentle, and she loved him all the more because he gave each kiss, each rhythmic movement a special touch of love. But as desire crescendoed and enveloped her in a trembling, building need, Kris wanted the driving force of his strength to consume her. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace.

  Then, in one, glorious, splendid, perfect moment, they experienced the essence of their love, and she knew she was forever lost in its beauty.

  Chapter Eight

  It was difficult for Kristina to awaken the next morning. Something was pressing in on her, weighting her dreams with a heavy apprehension. Kristina struggled to escape the shadowed, sluggish world of sleep. Her breathing quickened, then steadied as she began to recognize the familiarity of her bedroom: same patterned wallpaper; same dark oak dresser and bed frame; same butterfly-print sheets.

  She rubbed her foot over the bed linen and felt the warmth of Tucker’s body beside her. Even the same lover as the night before. Her lips curved gently but never quite formed a smile. How odd that already he felt familiar in her bed. But then hadn’t he become the most familiar part of her every day?

  Turning her head, she looked at the dark hair, mussed by sleep and her own loving touch. His face was relaxed and still, his lips pale against the contrast of his morning beard. Eyes closed, he dreamed on, and she watched, remembering other awakenings in his arms, wondering how many more there would be.

  Kris held back a sigh as her gaze moved to the window, to the light stealing past the curtains and into the room. The carpet looked almost white in the concentrated pool of sun. Its natural beige color was visible in a wide patch of uncluttered floor before it darkened to a shadowed brown in the corners. It was Sunday, and her choices seemed to have the same shaded pattern as the carpet.

  What was she thinking? There wasn’t any choice
for her, any more than there was a true variance in the color of the carpet. Only the lighting, the perspective, made it appear different. And she had lost the privilege of perspective. She had forgotten the reason for all her careful rules, and she had let herself fall in love with Tucker.

  He stirred, then settled again, and emotion rocked her heartbeat with a soft, sweet tenderness.

  Let herself?

  She had been helpless to prevent it. And now she had to face the reality that her fantasy had formed.

  Slowly, so as not to disturb him, she eased herself from the bed and stood looking down at him for several quiet minutes, savoring the solitude and the intimacy of watching her lover sleep. He belonged here with her. She acknowledged that truth just as she accepted the fact that he would not stay.

  Pivoting, she walked silently into the adjoining bathroom and splashed cool water on her face. She rubbed her skin to rosy life with a towel, and then, with deliberate intent, she forced her gaze to the mirror. Dusky-lashed gray eyes stared back at her, and she combed a hand through the untidy strands of pale hair. She eased the arch of one slim brow with her fingertip, but the mirrored reflection would not release her from its hold.

  Once, on another Sunday morning, she had stood before another mirror, searching for outward signs of change. Had it really been only eleven years? It seemed an eternity since she had been so young or so foolish as to believe that life could be seen in a piece of silvered glass.

  There was no need to search her reflection today. She knew the changes that Tucker had brought. Her attitudes, her routine, even the way she thought about tomorrow. He had changed them all. On that other Sunday she’d had no idea of what lay ahead —decisions, responsibility, maturity.

  A child.

  Dear God! How was she going to tell him that he had a daughter?

  Somewhere.

  Kris had thought she could face anything. On the day she signed the adoption papers and kissed her baby good-bye, she had believed she would die from the hurting. She had wanted to die, but time had patched the scars and mended the pain to a soft, aching emptiness. Somehow she had survived.