If You Loved Me

by Vanessa Grant

  She shuddered at the rage flashing in his eyes.

  "Are you asking me to marry you?"

  "Are you offering?" His eyes were flat, the blue almost gone. "How much do you want everything? Enough to jump into an impossible relationship with me? Enough to give up your medical practice?"

  "How much do you love me, Gray? Enough to give up your wilderness?" Her hands clenched at her sides. "But you don't love me at all, do you? You don't love anyone, and I'm not going to do a rerun. Maybe you believe back in Farley Bay I failed you as much as I believed you failed me. It's true that I wanted to have it all without paying for any of it. I was greedy and spoiled, and I certainly wasn't about to look for a compromise. I've grown up. I've learned that loving means being willing to find solutions. People who love each other make compromises, not demands."

  "Emma," he said harshly, "don't dissect us. There's no point."

  She shook her head and felt the hair flying everywhere as if she were a child again. "I'll do what I choose. When you asked me to come with you all those years ago I tore myself up over hesitating. I didn't know the truth. You would have backed off damned fast if I'd actually tried to go with you."

  She made her hands into fists. Her eyes dared him to answer. "When I looked like saying yes, Gray, you threw all the reasons why not in my face. We were kids then, but we're not children now. Don't do it again."

  She pushed her glasses up. "Don't ever again ask anything of me, not unless you can tell me you love me. Not unless you've realized you can trust me enough to admit you love me."

  "You don't change, do you? You can't build a life on passion, Emma. It flashes and it's gone."

  She stepped closer to him, holding herself stiffly erect. She saw his eyes flicker. "What if you're wrong, Gray? What if love is the only thing you can build a life on?"

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. He shuffled the pictures in his hand and put them in a pile on the counter.

  "I'll be in Seattle next month," he said.

  She turned her head to look along the corridor. She could see a scrap of blue through the window in his front door. "Next month, but you want me out of here now? Why, Gray? Was last night too much? Too close? You need to back off now?"

  "Stop second-guessing me."

  She cupped her elbows in her palms and took in every detail of his darkroom. "Why don't you want me to stay? Why next month? Why not now?"

  "I have a book to put together, Chico to pick up." He turned, his voice as empty as his eyes. "I'll be in Seattle in mid September. I'll call you."

  She met his eyes with anger. "A book to finish. Chico to pick up. When I was eighteen I'd have begged you to let me stay. I'd have promised not to bother you if you'd just let me hang around." She folded her arms together under her breasts. "I'd have begged you to let me help you with the dog, make your meals. I guess I've grown up a bit since then."

  "It doesn't sound like it."

  He shoved the prints to one side and folded his arms across his chest, shutting her out. "You weren't complaining last night. Yesterday you didn't need words and promises. Yesterday it was enough that we wanted each other. Why not leave it there?"

  Her face felt tight, the skin stretched too thin. "You want to see me next month?"

  "Yes."

  "Where are we headed?"

  One of his hands clenched into a fist. "Next month—"

  "When you come to Seattle, don't call me."

  "In a month you'll feel differently."

  "Yes," she agreed. "I probably will. I'm not made of ice." Gray unfolded his arms, his fathomless eyes locked on her. He moved so slowly, took so long to cross the short space between them. Her nerves went sharp with the knowledge that he was closer and then closer again. He slid his fingers into her hair and stared down into her eyes.

  "You never had sex with Alex, did you?"

  She shook her head silently.

  He combed his fingers softly through her hair. "When I touched you yesterday, we were both so hungry." He untangled one hand from her hair, took her glasses away, and bent his mouth to hers.

  She stared at his approaching face until everything but his mouth blurred.

  "I would have been jealous of Alex," he murmured, "but I realized when I touched you no one else had, not for a long time." He brushed her mouth with his before he took his kiss to her eyes. "I can make you need me again."

  She turned to fire and reached for him, felt the breadth of his shoulders and his mouth dip into hers. She clung tightly as he slipped his hands inside her blouse, and then she fell, slipping down into his touch.

  "Gray, I need more."

  He bracketed her waist with his hands, then lifted her high. She held his shoulders, caught in the blur as the room spun. His breath caressed her cheek. He set her down on the counter, high enough she could stare straight into his eyes, and stood in front of her, his hands still on her waist, her hands resting on his shoulders.

  Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt. She saw her hands move, knew they would slide to the buttons of his shirt, seeking his warmth.

  "I'll call you when I'm in Seattle," he said harshly. "You'll see me."

  Yes, he would call. After last night she was certain he would call. He needed her too much to stay away, but he hated needing her.

  "You'll see me, Emma. With this between us, how can you say no?"

  Her lips parted to accept his mouth. He slid one hand down to her hips and made the kiss instantly demanding, shockingly intimate. His hands hardened on her hips so he was nestled tight in the cradle of her parted legs. She was molten and he was hard. His caress parted her blouse and pushed it back, then his mouth sought the softness of her breasts. Her thighs clenched around him and she twisted in his arms, found one hand free and pushed the strap of her bra down so that when his kiss came it was on her naked breast.

  His whisper against her breast was a growl of triumph. "You need this as much as I do." He slipped her other bra strap down, freeing her breasts and binding her arms with the fallen straps. He cupped her breasts in his hands and brought them together to his lips and she was clutching him close, her thighs straining.

  His hands were at her waist, unfastening the catch of her slacks.

  He lifted his head and imprisoned her eyes, while she fought her own pounding pulse desperately.

  "I want more than this." Her throat hurt, wounded by her own words. "I want a husband who loves me. I want another child."

  He growled a low curse. "You want too much."

  "I always did," she whispered. "Gray, I can't be your lover if you won't let me in. I know it's difficult for you. I don't know why that is. I imagine it has something to do with your mother, because you never talk about her. I can't change you, Gray, and I don't think you want to change yourself."

  She touched his mouth with her fingers. "If you loved me, if you could trust my love, nothing would be impossible. But you don't, so please don't call me when you come to Seattle." She cupped her hand against his cheek. "Gray, if you won't love me, if you don't trust me enough to love me, then please let me be free."

  She felt the air fill his chest, a deep ragged breath that left his eyes masked. "Is that what you want, Emma? To be free of me?"

  "You know what I want." When she smiled it brought tears into her throat. "I want everything. If I can't have that, then I want it to be over."

  She saw him swallow, his eyes bleak. "I'll get the plane ready."

  He walked away, leaving her. Emma knew she could call him and he would come back. She could go into his arms, and if she could only keep her dreams hidden, he would take her once again to the place where his body told her the truth, but his lips wouldn't speak.

  She stared at the wall of his darkroom. The image of a young cougar stared back at her with an expression of arrested curiosity.

  One day soon, that picture would be in a book. The friendly young man from the bookshop down on Fourth Street would call her on the telephone. She would hear his voice when
she played back her messages, sandwiched between calls from worried parents.

  "We've got the new Gray MacKenzie book in. I'm keeping a copy for you, Dr. Garrett."

  He was Gray even on the title page of his books, not Graham, and she didn't even know why he would not let anyone call him by his full name.

  She loved him, but she must leave and never see him again except in pictures.

  She would buy the new book, turn its pages. Chris would be living his new life in the dorm with his friends. Emma would be alone, remembering. She would turn a page, then suddenly she would see this young cougar and she would remember sitting on the counter here in Gray's darkroom, breathing passion and heartache with his hands on her, his mouth turning her body heavy with desire so that she burned for him as she choked out the words that ended it all.

  * * *

  Gray stowed her suitcase in the luggage compartment while she climbed aboard and belted herself in. She'd spent so many hours alone in this small flight cabin with him, hours searching for Chris and Jordy while she came to know the man at the controls and the world he'd chosen to live in. They'd shared his thermos of coffee, his tent, and small scraps of each other in conversation.

  There was no conversation today. She saw Gray frown as he stepped around the front of the small plane. He was probably still frowning when he opened the door and climbed into his seat. She kept her gaze forward, staring at the water and the trees. Though she wanted to turn her head and take one long look at his log home, she reminded herself it was wise to keep focused on her destination.

  Back to Seattle. Away from Gray.

  The engine started with a ragged beat that quickly smoothed as the seaplane responded Gray's hands on the controls.

  "There's a high pressure area settling in," said Gray as they taxied out of Refuge Cove. "We'll have turbulence."

  He grasped the set of headphones hanging from a hook near the radio, slid them over his copper hair. She deliberately turned her head to look out her side window. Gray's house shrank in the distance as he powered the plane into the channel. She felt a pull, like a cord connecting something deep inside her to the house where she'd fallen in love for the second time in her life—with the same man.

  When he pushed the throttle to a roar, the little plane lifted in the water and sped toward a curve in the passage ahead. Emma stared at the trees until they disappeared underneath the seaplane. Ahead, the mountains on shore rose green and vibrant from the deep blue of the water.

  "It's beautiful," she said, her words swallowed by the noise. She turned her head to look at Gray, but he seemed oblivious to her presence in the cockpit. The headphones covering his ears would blank her words.

  Today, he hadn't offered her the second set of headphones that could make conversation easy between them. For two days she'd shared this cabin with him, locked into intimacy by a shared channel through the headphones. Now, her set hung on its hook, within her reach. She could grasp them, slide them over her head, and then if she spoke, Gray would hear.

  I love you. We could find a way to make this work if you would let yourself love me.

  She'd already said those words, so she said nothing now, her hands clenched in her lap throughout the flight. It was a quick flight, bumpy and bright, the sun blazing into the cabin. Gray landed in the inner section of Prince Rupert harbor and taxied noisily up to the seaplane floats she'd taken off from three days ago. He cut the engine and pulled off his headphones, then swung open his door. He was out of the plane before the wind sound could fill in where the engines had been.

  "Choppy out there!" called a man's voice. It was Dave, the pilot who'd flown Emma out to Gray's house three days ago. He was standing on the float, his leather jacket pressed against him in the wind.

  Emma couldn't hear Gray's answer. Dave was holding the wing of Gray's plane while Gray lashed a rope from the float to the pontoon. When Gray stood up from fastening the plane, he moved to the luggage compartment.

  "So you found your missing kayakers?" Dave shouted against the wind.

  Emma heard Gray's answer as she scrambled out of the plane. "Yesterday. They should be on the Kinahan Islands tonight." Gray's eyes met Emma's with no sign of emotion. "I won't forget to check on them this evening."

  "Thank you," she said politely, as if he were a stranger.

  Gray turned back to Dave. "If you've got anything going down Arthur Passage today, I'd appreciate it if you could keep an eye out for those two kids."

  "I've got a party flying down to Kitkatla Village, kids heading back from summer camp." Dave flashed an easy grin to Emma. "Don't worry. I'll get the pilot to fly the channel and spot your son. We'll keep an eye on them all the way back into port. They'll never know they're being watched."

  "Thank you." She wondered if her smile was as stiff as it felt.

  She'd been in Dave's plane only days ago, worried about Chris. She hadn't even thought to tell him about her son, to ask if he'd seen any kayaks in the passages, and if he would help in the search. She'd been on her way to Gray, as if Gray were the only person in the world who could help her.

  "Emma's flying back to Seattle today," said Gray.

  "I hope you've got a reservation," Dave said. "All the airlines are booked up with the Shriners' convention breaking up today. Hotel rooms are at a premium and the airport's a mess."

  "I'll find something." It didn't matter.

  She'd been numb ever since Gray left her on the counter in his darkroom. Soon the feelings would get through. She wasn't sure what would happen then. She could not let herself think about anything until Gray turned and walked away. Then she would be safe.

  Dave said something that sounded like gibberish to Emma. Then Gray's voice. Then Dave's again and he turned to Emma with a smile.

  "That's settled then. Cheryl and I will put you up tonight. I'll set my secretary to work on wrangling you a flight south tomorrow."

  "Thank you," she said mechanically. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

  "What about you, Gray?" Dave asked. "Stay in town for dinner tonight? We can put you up."

  She wasn't sure how she would get through dinner with Dave and his wife. She'd have to pretend exhaustion and the need for an early night. If Gray was there it would be unbearable.

  "I have to get back," Gray said. "There's a party of archaeology students out at the camp and I've got a deadline on the new book."

  "Another time, then."

  "Right. Say hi to Cheryl for me."

  Emma clenched her fingers hard so that the nails dug into her palms. She saw Gray's hand reach out toward her and she stepped back to stop him.

  "Take care, Emma." His eyes flicked down to her leg. "Don't work too hard."

  "No," she lied, knowing that long hours at the hospital would be her only weapon to fight the memories.

  "I'll be up at the office," said Dave. He turned and left Emma and Gray alone with the brisk wind.

  "Thank you for asking Dave to keep an eye on Chris and Jordy, and checking on them yourself."

  "It's no trouble."

  She drew in her breath carefully. "I don't know what to say to you."

  "Say good-bye, then turn around and walk away." His eyes were sober, fixed on hers. "Tomorrow you'll know you've had a lucky escape, twice in one lifetime."

  "We could make it work."

  "No, we couldn't."

  "Do you think you're going to win a prize if you get through life without letting yourself need anyone?"

  He didn't answer and a merciful, blazing anger surged up in her. "That's what happened to your marriage, isn't it? You might have married Samantha, but you never let your happiness ride on her. Not on me, either. Not on anyone in this world."

  His face was granite and her voice grew louder. "This is all about old baggage. Your mother left, she must have. If she'd died, you'd have told me when I asked. You acted as if you didn't care, and that's what you're doing now! You're stuck back there, and you're damned well never going to need anyone or love any
one because you don't believe in anybody! No one calls you Graham. Why is that? Did your mother call you Graham? Maybe she loved you, too, but you won't think about that. You'll go to your grave alone because you—"

  He gripped her shoulders and shook her. She tossed her head wildly and her hair tumbled forward so she couldn't see him or the world.

  "When I was eighteen I thought you didn't want me because I was too young and too innocent, but it was you who had the problem! I might have been reckless, desperate to grab at life, but I was willing to love you, willing to open up and be vulnerable! I'm not the one who's spent my life pretending I don't need anyone!"

  He let her go as if she'd burned him.

  "You lost that somewhere," he ground out harshly. "You're a damned coward now. You talk about love but you're afraid to answer a telephone next month. You don't know what the hell you want. Just get out of my life, Emma! I've had enough!"

  She heard someone on the dock behind her and knew she'd been screaming and he'd been shouting at her, too. If there had ever been a chance he might call one day she had just burned it into dust.

  "Did you ever want to love me? Back when we were kids and you kept telling me it was over and I called you and called—you didn't, did you? When I called and that girl answered, did you and she—?"

  "We were lovers," he said, and the words drove into her like knives. "We'd been lovers for a long time."

  "When you were seeing me?" His shoulders seemed to grow harder as she stared at them, her own tears distorting her vision. She blinked and the tears overflowed. It wasn't true. She didn't want it to be true, but if it wasn't, then he was using the words to wound her, and that would hurt almost as much as if he'd been unfaithful to her from the beginning.

  She turned away, but couldn't see where she was going. His voice shouted her name and she started to run, cannoned into someone. Strange hands steadied her. Behind her, Gray called her name.

  She pulled, twisted, desperate to escape the hands holding her.

  "Hey, Emma. You okay?" It was Dave.

  She gulped in air painfully. "I've got to get out of here!"