Finally he stopped walking altogether, and he turned her to face him. She lifted her eyes, those incredible eyes that outshone the stars, and he knew that there was nothing he could say to explain what he was about to do because he wasn't sure he understood it himself.
"Lisa," he said, the syllables of her name blending with the sound of the surf, and then he folded her in his arms and felt the straining of her head lifting to reach his, and his arms raised her slightly off the sand so that their lips would meet, and he kissed her.
Chapter 5
Lisa had been aware of the electricity between them even before he was, she was sure of that. She'd felt it from the first time she'd seen him, and it was what had fueled her imagination.
But this—this supercharged jolt of energy surging through her veins—was totally unexpected. He relaxed his grip so that her feet again stood solidly on the sand, his head bent over her upturned face to extract every last bit of pleasure. Their lips fused, blended, explored the limits of sweet sensation, almost parted and then came together again in the swift realization that they couldn't stop now, not yet.
After the first shock of sensation passed, she was aware—but only barely—of her hands pressing against the front of his shirt, then sliding upward and unclenching against the corded muscles of his neck; then, as she felt herself melting inside, her hands met at his nape and her fingers twisted through his hair, pulling his head down even farther. When she sensed a lessening of intensity, she made a soft sound somewhere in her throat and realigned her head to make it more comfortable for him, and his lips renewed their quest, his tongue seeking more, more, until she opened her mouth and clung to him in unabashed passion.
He was the one who ended it, pulling away and staring at her in the moonlight, his breathing rough. She closed her eyes, willing her heart to stop leaping about inside her rib cage.
"I didn't know anyone could kiss like that," he said in clear bewilderment, which helped bring her back down to earth.
"I didn't, either," she whispered.
"That was—"
"Was what?" she asked.
"Wonderful," he said, his hands on her shoulders positioning her so that her face rested against his chest. He hadn't expected it to feel so right.
"Are you cold?" he asked when he felt a little tremor run through her.
"Warmer now," she murmured, her voice muffled by his shirt.
He pulled away. "We should have brought jackets. And, maybe, a blanket."
"I'm comfortable," she said.
"I feel like a crazy kid, kissing you on the beach out here in front of strolling senior citizens and tourists and skateboarders," he said. He struggled to control his voice so that it wouldn't tremble.
"I feel like—" she said, but she stopped.
"Feel like what?" he asked.
"Like doing it again," she said, sounding more helpless than he felt, and he laughed and pulled her close.
"In that case, we will," he said, and this time he spent more time at it, reveling in the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her breath, the delight he felt at indulging himself in something that was pure perfection.
Up on the bike path the teenage skateboarders whooped as they rolled past, their wheels noisy on the asphalt path.
"Are you ready to go?" Jay asked.
"Perhaps we should," she said, not sure if she meant it. She wished the skateboarders would leave.
"One thing I know for sure, and that is that we don't need to leave right this minute," Jay replied, and he led her up the beach to a spot where he bent to touch his hand to the sand. He straightened and sifted a few grains through his fingers. "It's not too damp," he said. "Do you want to sit here and decompress for a few minutes? I feel like I'll get the bends if I come up for air too fast."
Lisa smiled, happy that he could joke about it. She sat down and settled into the curve of his arm, leaned her head against his shoulder and inhaled the pungent scent of sea air. He could make jokes, but she hadn't reached that point. She was still overwhelmed.
"I, um," he said, but he didn't finish.
"Mmm," she said, moving even closer. She liked the way her shoulder fit exactly under his arm.
"I don't usually make a habit of necking on the beach," he said after a while.
"Where do you neck, then?" she asked, sliding an impish glance up at him.
"What I mean is that this seems extraordinary to me. I've always been able to wait until I managed to find a private place. With you, it was kind of an urge. An imperative. A necessity," he said.
"A necessity," she said, and she couldn't help starting to giggle.
"You would laugh. Lisa, I'm being serious," he said.
"It's funny, what you said. A necessity is something that you need," she pointed out.
"Who says I didn't need to kiss you? Like now. I think I need to kiss you again."
"By all means, do it," she urged, and he cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her gently on her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips. One kiss, then another, and soon he was leaning over her and she was trying to keep her balance, which deserted her so suddenly that she fell backward in the sand with him on top of her.
He righted himself and pulled her up after him. Sand clung to her hair, stuck to her eyelashes and slid scratchily down the front of her shirt.
"Did you need this, too?" she asked slyly.
"I must have," he said, and she tried to brush the sand off his face, whereupon he captured her hand in one of his and said "Don't," and when she saw the seriousness of his expression, she forgot about everything else.
"You've got sand in your eyebrows," he pointed out after a few minutes.
She brushed at it. "I really think we should leave before there's something else you need," she said. Her eyes sparkled up at him.
He stood up and reached a hand down to pull her up beside him. "What I need is you—just you. Your smile, your warmth, your companionship," he said.
Don't analyze this too much, Lisa warned herself. Even though she knew that he now realized the impact of the attraction between them, he might not feel any real emotion for her. She couldn't dare to hope for love, didn't dare even to think the word, even though she had known in her heart from that first day that she could easily love this man and perhaps already did.
They made their way slowly up the wooden stairs, only to realize that they'd forgotten their shoes, and they bumped into each other all the way down the creaking wooden steps again, put on their shoes and, laughing, ran back up. In the distance, the skateboarders rumbled away, leaving the path clear for them.
At Jay's place, Lisa followed Jay into the kitchen and sat on a stool to watch as Jay piled turkey on thick slabs of pumpernickel bread.
"Did you roast the turkey yourself?" she asked.
"Yes. It's one of the few things I eat that doesn't come already cooked out of a zip-open bag at the supermarket," he admitted. "Mustard or mayonnaise?"
"Mayonnaise, please," she said.
"Mustard for me," he said, applying it with a heavy hand.
The sandwich was good, but it was Jay who was the real treat. She liked sitting across from him, liked the way he seemed to enjoy watching her. She found herself growing more animated as they sat and talked. Sometimes his eyes flickered with appreciation at something she said, and she fought the impulse to become reckless with wit, to laugh louder, to toss her head, bat her eyelashes—anything to impress him.
But that would be a mistake. He was impressed. She was flattered. And the attraction between them was magnetic.
After dinner, when Hildy had come out to say good-night and later retreated happily to her bed in the closet, Jay turned out the overhead light, leaving their faces illuminated only by the hood light over the stove. She held her breath and felt her heart fluttering in her chest. Almost ceremoniously he put his arms around her and kissed her.
"You're a girl who really knows how to kiss," he said after a few minutes. "You must have had lots of prac
tice."
"Not with the right person."
"What makes me so right?" he asked, his mouth close to her ear.
How could she explain that she'd wanted him to want her from the moment she'd seen him standing in the community center at the mission in his paint-splashed blue jeans? That his caring and compassion for the children stirred her more than even his physical presence, which was at this moment making her think erotic thoughts that would embarrass her in the extreme if he were to guess them?
"Oh," she said, striving for but not attaining a lightness of tone, "it's some kind of special undefinable something, I guess."
"A good way of putting it," he agreed, and he drew her into the living room and turned out one of the lights, the brightest one, leaving only the glow of recessed indirect lighting above the paintings on the wall.
Jay drew her down beside him on the couch and reached out with both hands, tunneling them under the feathery hair at her nape and rubbing gently. Her skull seemed small and delicate, as fragile as a bird's. He wanted to kiss her again. In fact, he wanted to do more than that.
"Do you like this, or shall I stop?" he asked.
"I like it," she said, and her lips remained parted in open invitation.
He kissed her, fascinated with the way she sank beneath him with submission yet rose to meet him in ardor. Lisa didn't look like a femme fatale, but he was rapidly beginning to think that she was more fatale than any femme he had ever known.
What could have happened didn't. He had no idea whether she would have shown restraint or not, but summoning what he thought were remarkable scruples, he managed to pull himself up short. He kissed her for as long as he could stand it without going any further, pleaded an early court appearance, which happened to be true, and saw her to her car. Then he kissed her chastely on the cheek, slammed the car door after her and watched her as she drove away.
He had to know how he really felt about her before he took this relationship to the next level. Sister Maria would never forgive him if he hurt Lisa Sherrill.
* * *
Lisa thought Adele was asleep when she let herself quietly into the house, but before she had tiptoed past the kitchen, she realized that Adele sat in her usual chair, the blue images reflected from the television screen flickering across her face.
"Did you remember to pick up the bread?" Adele called out in a querulous tone.
Lisa paused in mid-tiptoe. "I'm sorry, Adele," she said. "I completely forgot, but I'll get it on my way home from work tomorrow."
Adele's reply was lost in a burst of gunfire from the program on TV, and Lisa fled to her room.
Tonight of all nights Lisa was in no mood to deal with Adele. She wanted to mull over in exquisite privacy everything she and Jay had said to each other, to explore every nuance, to hug her happiness close.
Soon she would ask Jay over so he could see how she lived, to show off the house with its bright sun-splashed rooms, its vivid colors, the Spanish-tile floors cool to the feet even on the hottest days of summer. She hoped he would love as she did the incomparable view of the Loxahatchee.
But that would mean that Jay would have to meet Adele, and Adele always made it clear that she considered Lisa's friends a threat.
* * *
Early on Saturday morning, zoo day, when Jay stopped by Lisa's house to pick her up, he was driving a faded red minivan of ancient vintage. It sported a conspicuous patch of rust below the back bumper and a dent in the right front fender.
"Where did you find such a vehicle?" Lisa asked when she saw it.
"It belongs to my law partner's wife," Jay said, opening the minivan's door for her. "We exchanged cars for the day because this one's equipped for hauling kids."
"So he's off with his wife in your Kia?"
"Yes, and he thinks I should have my head examined for trading," Jay said, but he laughed and started the car, which coughed and trembled its way up the driveway. Lisa settled back on the worn upholstery and grinned back at him, and the minivan settled down by the time they were on the highway heading toward Yahola. The sun was bright, the air fairly shone with the blue brilliance of the sky, and the water in the canals on both sides of the highway glistened between tall spears of saw grass. Altogether it was a wonderful day to be feeling expansive and eager and on the brink of a new adventure.
They talked of nothing, they talked of everything, and when their eyes met, they acknowledged their new relationship with a glance. Once Jay reached across the seat and took Lisa's hand. She liked feeling connected to him and was sorry when he had to put both hands on the wheel to steady it at a sinuous curve in the road.
They arrived at Nina's house precisely at ten o'clock, and they waited patiently for fifteen minutes or so after the bleat of the car horn until the four boys erupted from the front door. The boys were slicked up and attired in painstakingly ironed shirts and pants, and Connie wore a red dress and carried her constant companion, a sketchbook.
Jay settled the three older boys in the back seat, and Connie and Alejandro, the youngest, clambered into the middle seat.
"We're going to the zoo, we're going to the zoo," sang Ruy, but his brother shushed him and Alejandro began a warbling rendition of "Binkle, Binkle Little Star," until one of the older boys, Lisa wasn't sure which, leaned over the seat, punched him in the shoulder, and informed him that it wasn't "binkle," it was "twinkle," and anyway, if he didn't stop singing it, he'd feed him a knuckle sandwich.
"If you boys don't behave yourselves, I'll tell Jay to put you out of the car right here," warned Connie in a surprisingly grown-up voice, which must have struck fear into their hearts, because the horseplay stopped immediately.
They had reached "forty-eight bottles of beer on the wall, forty-eight bottles of beer" by the time the car left the expressway in Miami. Lisa and Jay had joined in heartily, with Lisa vainly trying to speed up the song's dragging tempo. Occasionally Jay glanced over at Lisa, surprised that she actually seemed to be enjoying this. When she sang, she threw her head back, exposing the white skin of her throat, and the sight made him catch his breath and stop singing for a verse or two until Connie complained that she couldn't hear him.
Jay wondered how it was that Lisa had never married. Someone like Lisa should have been snapped up long ago While he was having this thought, she smiled at him—not her usual impish smile but one of incomparable sweetness. It left him feeling slightly undone.
Behind the zoo was a park with a picnic area, and when Jay drove through the entrance, the boys began to ply them with questions.
"What are we doing here?"
"Where are the animals?"
"Why are you stopping?"
"We'll eat our lunch before we go into the zoo," Jay said, and two of the boys groaned, until Connie said, "Listen, you guys, we're doing what Jay says." After they got out of the minivan, the boys were oddly quiet and watched goggle-eyed as Lisa produced bowl after bowl of picnic fare and spread it on the table in the sun-stippled shadows under the trees.
"Don't you like picnics?" Jay asked when he saw the dubious expression on Ruy's face as Lisa unwrapped the carrot and celery sticks.
"I never been on one before," Ruy said in a low voice.
It wasn't long before Ruy and Mike were flipping chick-peas from the cold chick-pea salad across the table at each other. Alejandro loved the celery sticks but managed to nearly choke on one, and Felipe refused to eat any grapes but wolfed huge mouthfuls of the potato salad. Ruy ate grapes, but only if someone else, usually Lisa, peeled them first. Connie sat through their antics with an expression of forbearance on her face, daintily eating in her most ladylike way and ignoring the boys as much as possible.
The boys were especially impatient to get to the zoo, and when they finally stood in line at the entrance, waiting for Jay to pay the admission price, Lisa hung back to observe Jay with the children. He was so tender with them, so caring, wiping their faces with his handkerchief, resting his hand on the sun-warmed top of one small head as
they walked through the gate. Jay was the kind of guy who had every right to swagger but was instead content to saunter, matching his gait to the kids'.
Connie wanted to attend the elephant show, which was about to begin. Afterward, all the children rode on the elephant. Then they visited the zoo's amphitheater to see a wildlife show, where they had to wait in line again, but Lisa didn't mind. Every moment of this day seemed permeated with happiness. She'd never realized before how burdened she'd become with the responsibilities of her house, Adele, and her job.
As she watched the children clinging to Jay's arm, she realized that he was a fill-in father for them. These kids had very little male influence in their lives, and now they were basking in Jay's attention. She realized that none of that attention could be hers at the moment, but she didn't care in the least. What mattered now was that for one day she and Jay had created the semblance of a normal family outing for these kids.
As they made their way through the exhibits, the children were never still. During a quiet moment in the aviary, Lisa made a point of sitting down on a bench beside Connie, who was swiftly finishing one of her sketches.
Connie greeted her with a smile. "That Ruy," she said as her pencil flew across the paper, "you just have to grab him by the shirttail and pull him along with us no matter how much he hollers. And Alejandro, he's not going to stop talking about koalas for another month, so don't let him blackmail us into going back and watching them or we won't get to see anything else. Mike's the easiest one. Felipe, well, you're on your own with him."
Lisa stifled a smile. "You sound like their mother," she said.
Connie looked up briefly to study the movements of a kingfisher through narrowed eyes. "They take a lot of worrying," she said. Jay sat beside Lisa, taking advantage of the lull to crook his arm around her shoulders.
"Are you having a good time?" he asked.
"Very," she said, smiling up at him.
"So am I," he said, but he took his arm away before the children could crowd around.
Sunshine and Shadows Page 7
