Bingo. She'd scored a direct hit. She could see it in the mottled flush that crept beneath his tanned cheekbones. "Are you saying that if I'd told you more about my ex-wife you'd have told me about Ale— Alan?" he asked roughly.
Samantha blinked. There was another very good question. Why hadn't she told him about Alan? She looked away from that demanding stare. "I might have," she muttered, "if I thought there was ever a chance of anything serious developing between us."
"And of course you think that's impossible."
She hated the mockery in his tone. She knew the score, she'd be a fool if she pretended otherwise. "I do," she defended staunchly. "You'll be leaving soon, a matter of weeks." There—her choice was made. So why did she feel so rotten?
"And you're convinced your body is all I want from you." The look he gave her seemed to reach into her soul. "Two lonely people, drawn together in the night."
What was he trying to do? Beat her into the ground? But there was no mockery, no teasing, no laughter in his voice. She was lonely, though it wasn't something she admitted often. It was easier, so much easier to pretend.
She drew a shaky breath. "What! Don't tell me you're lonely, too!" The laugh she gave was forced. "Forgive me if I have a difficult time believing you have a problem finding a woman to share your bed at night! After all, look what you've got going for you. Looks, money..."
The flippant voice trailed off. And what about her? She'd had a chance at marriage and happiness once, and she'd failed miserably. But what she said was true. Jason did have everything. No doubt he had droves of women falling at his feet back in Los Angeles.
She might have felt a spurt of triumph at the uncomfortable look that flashed across his face if it hadn't hurt so much. As it was, she felt as if a giant hand was squeezing her heart.
She sensed rather than saw him move toward her. "You know what the hell of this is?" he said roughly. "I actually believe that your ex-husband having a key to your house is really what you say it is. And it's crazy, but all of a sudden I'm wondering why you don't love him. Was it because he didn't live up to your expectations of what a husband should be—of what you thought love should be?" His voice hardened as he looked at her. "Your kind of love is white knights and fairy tales, and maybe that's why your marriage failed. Maybe you couldn't pull your head down from the clouds long enough to get a glimpse of reality. Hell, you still can't for that matter! You really believe all that drivel--that love is perfect, that love is forever, that love conquers all."
Samantha pressed hot hands to her cheeks, his words whirling around in her brain. His words were like a whiplash to her heart. "I have to," she said shakily, "or I'll end up like you. And I'd rather be a dreamer than a cynic."
"And are you any better off than I am?" His voice was harsh, accusing. "Do your dreams fill the void in your heart or satisfy your longing to be held by someone during a cold winter night? I want you and I'm not afraid to admit it. You want a storybook hero, a fantasy man, the kind of hero that's only found in those blasted books you read. But the truth is you're a coward, Samantha. Even if such a man existed you'd be afraid to try to find one in the flesh. At least I'm not afraid to go after what I want--what I need." The hard look in his eyes sent splinters of pain slicing through her. "There's something missing in your life, Samantha. When are you going to own up to it?"
For an instant she almost hated Jason, hated his ability to reach into her mind and pluck out her most private thoughts. Alan had been her first and only lover. And somehow, at this moment, tense though it was, she was more conscious than ever of what she'd lost since her divorce . . . the sharing of feelings, the sense of security that belonging to another and being one with that person had given her. Perhaps most of all, she realized how much she missed the physical side of marriage. But she couldn't—and wouldn't—satisfy the craving of her body and sacrifice her emotional well-being in the bargain. She had every right in the world to expect the two to go hand in hand. She clung to the thought the way a drowning man might hold on to a life preserver. It had happened once, no matter that it had been all too fleeting, and it could happen again. But deep in her heart she knew she harbored a secret fear that was almost as great as her need; the fear of dealing with failure once more.
She was afraid to love again, but just as afraid not to love.
The seconds ticked by slowly. Her pain was a throbbing ache in her breast. He knew—damn him, he knew! She felt naked and exposed in a way that had never happened before, even in the days following her divorce. But suddenly she realized something else, as well. Jason said she wanted a hero, the kind of hero that was only found in romances. But wasn't that how she'd thought of him all along?
Yes, she'd found her hero. She was in love with Jason Armstrong, a man who carelessly tossed aside and belittled all that she held dear to her heart.
The realization brought a wave of pain so intense she nearly cried out. She pressed her fingers to her temples, confusion roiling in her brain. She couldn't stand here anymore and listen to him tear her apart little by little with his cutting words. The atmosphere was stifling; she couldn't breathe. She started for the door, but in the second before she reached it, her wild eyes met Jason's, and she couldn't hide the agony in her heart. And then she was running out the door, running blindly down the path to the beach, darting past a party of picnickers, weaving through a group of children.
She didn't recognize the startled look in Jason's eyes, or see the hand thrust after her. She didn't hear the hoarsely muttered sound that was her name as he stared after her.
She ran until she thought her lungs would burst from lack of air, but she welcomed the pain. It took her mind off the ache in her heart. Her breast heaved from the unaccustomed exertion when she collapsed on the sand, unable to go even a step farther.
She sifted through a handful of sand, letting the rough grains trickle through her fingers. She'd kicked off her sandals somewhere, and the sand felt cool against her bare feet as the sun lowered in the late- afternoon sky. A chill breeze whipped through her hair. She shivered a little but lifted her face and let the wind lay bare her seething emotions, welcoming the unexpectedly calming effect.
She loved Jason. Hot tears scalded her eyelids for an instant, clouding her vision as she gazed out at the silver-glazed expanse of ocean. It was crazy. Impossible. He was wrong for her, and even if he wasn't, he would soon be gone. He'd said he wanted her, but could she accept him at face value? Could she accept him as he was and ask no more? She exhaled sharply only to catch her breath in remembered anguish, experiencing once again the sharp prick of his words.
So many questions, so few answers. But one thing was certain. She hadn't run from Jason so much as she'd been running from herself.
With a sigh she picked herself up and plodded back toward home, the water occasionally lapping at her feet. She was nearing the beach in front of her house when she saw Jason, standing at the edge of the sand, looking at her. Waiting. Watching. The distant chatter of children was all but drowned out by the sudden pounding she heard in her ears as she stopped where she was.
And then a strange thing happened. She was too far away to see the expression on his face, but she could sense the twisted jumble of emotions inside him as surely as she felt her own. With an aching sensitivity, she knew she wasn't the only one hurting inside.
Her eyes locked with his as she began to move forward.
"Miss Monroe! Hey, Miss Monroe!"
Samantha glanced to the right and waved distractedly at Kevin, but suddenly she stopped short. Kevin was perched high above her on the jutting pile of rocks that stood sentinel on the beachfront.
"Oh, my God," she breathed, her heart leaping to her throat. A wave of pure panic swept through her. She lifted both arms and frantically waved them to the little boy. "Kevin, get down here! For God's sake, come back down!"
But even as she yelled to him, a frothy lick of surf nipped at her ankles and her voice was lost in the wind. Kevin merely waved and cl
ambered farther upward. The tide was coming in at an alarming pace, Samantha realized. Within minutes, Kevin would be stranded on the rocky bluff. The waves that dashed against the lonely island at high tide could be vicious on a windy day, easily capable of sweeping away a youngster, and the wind blew more fiercely by the second.
Samantha wasn't even aware of moving. She plunged through the thigh-deep pool of water at the rocky base. Heedless of the cutting edges of the rock against her bare feet, she scrambled steadily upward until she reached the little boy.
He turned in surprise as she gathered his small body into her arms. "Kevin!" She hugged him, nearly squeezing the breath from him. "You shouldn't have climbed up this far. The tide is coming in!"
His blue eyes were wide as saucers as he peered at the churning waters below them. His voice quavered as he looked back up at her. "How are we going to get down?"
Samantha didn't answer until she had led him around to the beach side of the rocky ledge. Settling herself against the narrow surface, she pulled him down into her lap. "We'll be okay," she said with a surety she was far from feeling. Icy water sprayed over them and she knew with a sinking feeling the worst was yet to come.
Kevin's teeth chattered. "C-couldn't we c-climb back down and s-swim back to the beach? It's not that f-far."
She cradled him more tightly and shook her head. "The water would be too deep by the time we got back down." If she had been alone, she might have tried it, but as it was... it wasn't so much the water's depth as the treacherous undercurrents. Kevin's slight weight would be carried away too easily, and even if she tried to make it across with him in tow, he could lose his grip. She shivered as she glanced down at the swirling eddy below. No, she couldn't take the chance.
"We'll be all right," she tried to reassure him. She pointed to the crowd that had begun to gather at the receding shoreline, then smoothed his dampened blond curls. "Someone will come soon."
The next sheet of water was like a blow as it pounded their figures, a dense curtain of moisture. They were both drenched to the skin in the space of a second. Samantha shivered and wrapped her arms around Kevin more tightly, trying to infuse some of her warmth into him.
How long they huddled together against the bite of the wind and the chill of salt spray, Samantha could never have said. It seemed like hours before a dull roaring sounded in her ears, a drone that grew steadily louder. She opened her eyes as she realized what it was; the throbbing sound of rotors.
"Kevin!" She shook the still form lying limply against her. "Look!" She pointed upward to where a makeshift chair was already being lowered.
His eyes widened as she lifted him to his feet. "Wow! A Coast Guard helicopter! Wait 'til the kids at school hear about this! This'll knock 'em dead!"
Samantha laughed shakily at his little-boy glee. He might not have missed this for the world but this was one experience she could have done without.
A short time later Kevin's mother gave him a sound scolding then proceeded to clasp him tightly in her ample arms. Samantha was next. She acknowledged the woman's gushing thanks and warm hugs with a weak smile. Clutching the rough woolen blanket someone had draped over her shoulders, she disengaged herself from the surrounding crush of bodies.
"Samantha!" Hard hands caught her firmly by the arms before she found herself engulfed in a warm pair of arms, snugly folded against a warm male body. "Whatever possessed you to do something so stupid, so foolhardy, so completely idiotic! Didn't you think before you went charging up there?"
The harsh sound of Jason's voice was at complete odds with the tender brush of his lips on her forehead, her eyes, her cold cheeks. She sagged against his hard strength. "You told me once I did too much thinking," she murmured with a weak laugh against his chest.
His hands pushed her back so he could stare down at her. "My God!" he said fiercely. "When I think what could have happened! You could have been swept out to sea . . . drowned!"
The agonized frenzy in his voice wasn't lost on Samantha. Numbly she raised her head to stare back into his hard face, the worry lines etched into his forehead, the deep grooves carved beside his mouth. But his eyes... She caught her breath. She was dead-tired, her entire body felt like an ice cube, but the emotion reflected in his eyes had a startling effect on her. He looked protective, fiercely so, and distinctly possessive, but perhaps strongest of all... Suddenly she felt as if a warm ray of sunshine had penetrated her foggy state clear through to her soul. In anyone else she'd have sworn it was love.
Her breathing grew shallow. Did this mean there was hope for him yet?
Jason took one look at her pale face and gathered her up in his arms. Feeling as if she'd just come home after a very long journey, Samantha wrapped her arms around his neck and drowsily smiled her contentment against the strong brown column of his neck, taking a deep breath of his heady male scent.
"Take me home, Jason," she murmured tiredly against his jaw. "Take me home."
A warm bath, some hot soup and an hour later, Samantha felt completely revived. So much so, in fact, that Jason's solicitous behavior was getting a little annoying. She slapped away his hand as he reached to take her pulse for the third time in the past ten minutes.
"For heaven's sakes, Jason," she protested, "I'm perfectly fine!" She glared at him.
"You were soaked to the skin. Haven't you ever heard of hypothermia? Maybe we should still take you to the hospital."
Samantha rolled her eyes and set aside her teacup. Jason had taken her to his house, and now they were sitting on the edge of the bed, where he'd brought her a tray immediately after her bath.
"You said yourself we weren't out there more than ten minutes. The paramedics said both Kevin and I were fine. Isn't that enough for you?"
"You only stopped shivering a few minutes ago," Jason said accusingly. His eyes darkened and he reached out to fold her in his arms. "Samantha, I nearly went out of my mind! I don't know which was worse, seeing you up there and knowing there wasn't a damn thing I could do or having you run out on me."
He broke off abruptly, and she had the distinct sensation that he was having a hard time garnering his emotions. She couldn't help but remember the deeply intense look in his eyes when he'd brought her here. She snuggled closer and tucked her head under his chin, smiling her contentment.
"Samantha—" He expelled a harsh sigh, his breath stirring her hair. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry!" The words were wrenched from deep inside him. "I shouldn't have struck out at you the way I did, but I was angry, and hurt that you hadn't cared enough to tell me you'd been married."
She made a small murmur of protest and tried to look up, but his hand smoothed her hair and held her tightly. "No, don't talk, just listen," he said in an emotion-rough voice that was all the more precious for the gentleness of his hand on her head. "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for tearing into you like that. I know I'll never forget that wounded look in your eyes. I don't want to hurt you like that again. Ever. I accused you of being a coward, but I was wrong. I'm the one who's a coward. I came after you, but when I saw you sitting there on the sand..."
His arms tightened as he hesitated. "For the first time in my life, I was at a loss for words. Saying I was sorry just didn't seem enough, and all of a sudden I was scared to death that you would never forgive me, that you would hate me forever for hurting you so."
Forever. It was a strange word coming from a man who didn't believe in forever. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Slowly she raised her head to look at him, her eyes searching his face. "Jason.. ." Her throat tightened with emotion.
"I'm going to make you a promise, Samantha," he said in a velvet-soft tone. "I walked away from you then, but I'll never walk away again." Her skin tingled when he slowly brought her hand to his lips, brushing his warm mouth over her knuckles. There was a silent question in his eyes as they met hers.
"I'm a very forgiving woman." She smiled mistily up at him. "And I think you already know I was coming back to you when I s
aw Kevin up on those rocks."
Jason's eyes grew stormy. "I still can't believe you did that!"
"I knew he'd never get down alone." Her tone was very gentle, and the lines in his face seemed to relax. His hand reached for hers, his long fingers threading tightly through hers and resting on her bare thigh.
"I know," he said with a sigh. "I'd have done the same thing myself."
At this she smiled and drew back from the circle of his arms. "Your big chance at a real rescue attempt," she teased, "and this time it wasn't one of your make-believe heroes that beat you to it, it was the Coast Guard. Disappointed?"
His eyes met hers, the look undeniably warm. Samantha was suddenly reminded of how he had impersonally stripped her and lowered her into the tub, and just as matter-of-factly toweled her hair and body. But now his warm protective attitude was suddenly transformed into something very different, and infinitely more exciting.
"Not yet." He shook his dark head, a ghost of a smile at his lips. "All of my books invariably have a scene like this." His eyes dropped to the pale blue material that covered her slender body. "Even down to what you're wearing--one of my shirts. And we both know what happens next—a love scene."
A love scene. Her senses already whirled giddily from his nearness, but she noticed dazedly that once again, he didn't call it a sex scene.
"You know you're driving me crazy."
The sound of his voice drifted across her skin like a kiss of a warm summer breeze. She drew a deep quivering breath. "Why is that?"
"Because after sitting here next to you, and holding you in my arms, all I can think about is the fact that you don't have a damn thing on under that shirt."
Her breath quickened. "My clothes aren't dry yet," she murmured needlessly.
"They won't be dry until morning," he said quietly, his eyes on the outline of her breasts. His eyes came up to linger on her face. "You're beautiful, Samantha."
The Unsung Hero Page 12
