If Ever I Loved You
By
Phyllis Halldorson
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
"I Can't Leave You Alone, Ginny Lea."
He murmured roughly, and pulled her forward so she slid off the chair and onto her knees on the floor.
Before she could protest, his mouth covered hers in a hard, punishing kiss. Her lips parted in a gasp, admitting his seeking, plundering tongue. She struggled, pounding her fists on his back, but his arms tightened around her waist.
The kiss was so intense that she was totally unprepared when he suddenly unclasped her arms from around him and pushed her away. His breath was coming in short rasping pants as he stood and looked down at her bewildered, upturned face.
"Oh, no, Ginny Lea," he said. "I can't leave you alone, because you belong to me. I never filed those annulment papers. Like it or not, you're still my wife!"
PHYLLIS HALLDORSON, like all her heroines, is as in love with her husband today as on the day they met. It is because she has known so much love in her own life that her characters seem to come alive as they, too, discover the joys of romance.
Dear Reader,
I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have written in with your comments on Silhouette Romances.
We are always delighted to receive your letters, telling us what you like best about Silhouette, our authors, or indeed, anything else you want to tell us. This is a tremendous help to us as we strive to publish the best contemporary romances possible.
All the romances from Silhouette Books are for you, so enjoy this book and the many stories to come. I hope you will continue to share your thoughts with us and invite you to write to me at this address:
Jane Nicholls
Silhouette Books
PO Box 177
Dunton Green
Sevenoaks
Kent
TN13 2YE
Copyright © 1984 by Phyllis Halldorson
Map by Ray Lundgren
First printing 1984
ISBN 0 340 36176 X
For Ethel Bangert, my teacher,
who opened the door and pointed the way.
With many thanks.
Chapter One
The somber feeling of dread intensified, tying Gina's stomach in knots. She shifted uneasily on the highly polished oak pew in the beautiful old Episcopal cathedral as the magnificent pipe organ began the processional.
A blonde girl, wraithlike in pastel pink, stepped through the door at the back of the candlelit nave and began her slow trek up the long, white-satin-covered aisle toward the altar. She was followed at suitable intervals by five other young women gowned in muted shades of yellow, blue, green, apricot and mauve. After the appearance of the maid of honor the music switched to the happy strains of Wagner's Wedding March and Cynthia, radiantly lovely in white peau de soie and lace, appeared on the arm of her father, Stewart Tobias.
Gina's nails dug into her palms as she rose with the several hundred other guests and turned to watch the glowing young bride and the handsome bearded man, who looked every inch the successful writer in his gray tuxedo. For the past seven years Gina had used any excuse, truthful or not, to avoid attending weddings, but this time there had been no escape. Stewart, the strong, gentle man whose engagement diamond she wore, would never have understood her refusal to attend the marriage of his only daughter. He didn't know that seven years ago, at the age of eighteen, Gina had also walked down the flower-strewn aisle of a fashionable church here in San Francisco on the arm of her father.
Her vision blurred and in her mind it was no longer Stewart and Cynthia standing there but her father and herself, Joseph and Virginia Lea Brown. Her gown had been a dreamlike confection whipped up by one of the country's top designers, paid for, as were all the other expenses of the wedding, by her soon-to-be in-laws. Joe had looked self-conscious and uncomfortable in the first tuxedo he'd ever worn.
She'd been known as Ginny Lea in those days, a happy carefree teenager just starting her freshman year at San Francisco State University, and she had the world by the tail. It didn't matter that she was the daughter of a midwestern farm boy who had found a career in the army as a non-commissioned officer, and the man waiting for her at the altar, Peter Van Housen, was the youngest son of one of the most wealthy and prestigious families in the bay area. She was Cinderella and Peter was Prince Charming and fairy tales always ended happily.
A ragged sigh escaped before Gina could stop it, and she blinked her wide violet eyes with surprise to find that the music had stopped and Cynthia and Stewart were now standing at the altar. The white-robed clergyman asked, "Who gives Cynthia in marriage?" and Stewart answered, "Her mother and I do," then took his place in the front pew beside his ex-wife. He and Cindy's mother had had an amiable divorce and had done a remarkable job of keeping any bitterness they may have felt toward each other out of their relationship with their only child.
A wave of pain washed over Gina as she thought of her own annulment and the agony that surrounded it, and she clutched the back of the pew ahead of her to steady herself. Oh, why had she been fool enough to come today? Why hadn't she done something, anything, broken a leg if necessary, to convince Stewart that she couldn't attend?
She felt a firm, soft hand cover hers and looked up to see Twyla Sisson standing next to her, a look of concern on her round pretty face. "Gina, are you all right?" she whispered. "You're white as a ghost."
Gina wasn't the least sure she was all right, but she managed a weak smile for Twyla, her teacher, employer, confidante, and friend, and whispered back, "I'm okay, just a little too warm. It's awfully stuffy in here."
Twyla didn't look convinced but said nothing more as the guests resumed their seats and the bridal couple began taking their vows.
Gina heard the vows from her own wedding. "Do you, Virginia, take this man, Peter—?"
Oh yes, she most definitely had taken Peter Van Housen to be her lawfully wedded husband. "To have and to hold—." But of course that was what it had all been about, to have and to hold. Their physical desire for each other had been all-consuming, but Gina's strong midwestern bible belt upbringing had taught her that it was a sin to have sex before marriage. It had taken all her strength to resist Peter's pleas to go to bed with him, but finally he couldn't stand the frustration any longer and had asked her to marry him. They'd known each other less than six weeks when, over the objections of both sets of parents, they'd repeated their wedding vows in front of a handful of her friends and a church-full of San Francisco's wealthiest, most socially prominent citizens. All strangers to her.
Four hours later her marriage and her world lay shattered at her feet.
Abruptly a burst of organ music startled Gina out of her reverie and she was appalled to discover that tears had welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Cindy and her Bob, their faces glowing with excitement, were coming back up the aisle as Gina fumbled blindly in her purse for a handkerchief.
Beside her Twyla spoke in a voice tinged with alarm. "Gina, honey, for heaven's sake what's the matter? Do you feel faint?" She put her hand on Gina's arm. "Come on, let me help you out of here."
Gina found her handkerchief and dabbed at her swimming eyes. "No, please Twyla, I don't want to cause a scene. Just sit quietly and we'll leave when our turn comes."
Outside Gina breathed in the cool, moist ocean air and bli
nked the last of the tears from her pain-filled eyes. Tears, for heaven's sake! After seven years she could still shed tears over Peter Van Housen! What an idiot she was. He wasn't worth one tear and she'd shed buckets of them in the months following that disastrous day, but she'd finally cried herself dry and vowed that no man would ever hurt her that way again.
It hadn't been hard to keep men at a distance. She'd poured all the love and passion she had to give into her relationship with Peter and he had trampled it in the dust. There was none left, and for that she was grateful. For five years after the annulment she had dated only occasionally and she'd never gone out with the same man more than twice. It was no sacrifice, after a golden god like Peter Van Housen all other men were colorless and unexciting.
In spite of her resolve not to let it, an image of Peter formed in her mind's eye. Tall, slender, with hair the color of moonbeams and eyes the blue of the sea. His shoulders were broad, his hips slim, and his thighs firm and muscular as revealed by the tight jeans and slacks he wore.
The hair on his chest was surprisingly dark and she'd teased him about it as she'd slowly wound her fingers through it, giggling when she'd felt his heartbeat speed up. He'd called her a tease and had kissed her with a thoroughness that had left her gasping. She'd almost given herself to him that time. Would her life have been different if she had?
Once more Twyla spoke her name and Gina shook her head to dislodge the unwanted thoughts. "Do you want to stop in the rest room before we go on to the hotel for the reception?" asked Twyla. "You don't look at all well."
Gina smiled at her concerned friend. "I'm not going to be sick if that's what you're afraid of, but I do need to repair my make-up. Have you any idea where we can find a mirror?"
The mirror in the cramped little rest room wasn't very well lighted, but Gina could see all she needed to. Her creamy flawless skin required little make-up and her black mascara and mauve eye shadow were waterproof so the tears had done little damage. She applied a light film of powder and some blusher to camouflage the whiteness of her face and ran a brush through her short raven curls.
Twyla tugged at the panty girdle she wore to keep her ample curves in line and sighed disgustedly. "If I gain one more pound I'm going to have to buy all new clothes. You know something, Gina Brown? If you weren't my very dearest friend I'd hate you. You can eat anything and never grow out of a size seven."
Gina grinned. Twyla was a striking woman, queen-sized but beautifully proportioned with thick auburn hair that she usually wore in a twist up the back of her head, and warm brown eyes with golden highlights. At thirty-nine she was an unlikely cross between earth mother and femme fatale with one broken marriage and several casual love affairs in her past, a lucrative career as gallery owner and artist in her present, and who knows what in her future. She was fourteen years older than Gina, but their seven-year friendship had filled an aching void in both their lives.
"You're gorgeous and you know it," teased Gina. "Really, that gown was an inspired choice. The turquoise does exciting things to your coloring, and the long skirt drapes so gracefully around your ankles." She sighed as she put the small brush back in her evening purse. "I'd give anything for a little of your height."
Twyla eyed Gina and snorted. "Anyone who's built like you doesn't need a thing from the likes of me. It's you small gals that the men flock around, you make them feel protective. And speaking of dresses, yours is a stunner. Wish I could wear that flamingo color, but with my hair I'd look like a sunset in flight."
She picked up her hand-knit stole and headed for the door. "We'd better get going, the reception is due to start at eight and the hotel is clear across town." Gina settled her white angora jacket around her shoulders and followed Twyla. Ah yes, there was still the reception to get through, and that may prove to be the hardest part of all. She shuddered slightly and wondered how long it would be before she could slip quietly upstairs to the room Stewart had reserved for Twyla and her. The room where she could escape to lick her wounds in private.
The reception line was almost finished by the time Twyla and Gina arrived at the luxurious high-rise hotel. The banquet room was filled with wedding guests, some dancing to the lilting music of the full orchestra, others filling dishes with exotic food from the buffet table, and here and there stood knots of people deep in discussion. Gina hugged Cindy and Bob, shook hands with Cindy's mother as she murmured a polite greeting, and kissed Stewart lightly on the cheek, uncomfortably aware of his ex-wife standing next to him.
His arms closed around her and he held her close as he murmured. "You can do better than that, darling. I'll be free in about fifteen minutes, save me a dance."
A uniformed waiter handed her a glass of champagne and she sipped the bubbly wine as her gaze wandered around the posh room, as lush as a garden with its innumerable potted plants, cut flower arrangements, and a wall of glass that provided a spectacular view of the ocean at dusk. Gina had lived in San Francisco for three years while her father was stationed at the Presidio and she'd loved it. She'd graduated from high school in the top ten percent of her class and had completed part of her freshman year of college before the debacle that sent her scurrying as far away as she could get, vowing never to return.
She wandered over to the glass wall and her memories were poignant and bittersweet as she stood looking out over the quaintly beautiful city of hills. She'd been standing there for several minutes when she became aware of an unfamiliar tension that had nothing to do with her thoughts. It was a tightening at the base of her skull, as though someone was blowing lightly on her neck, making the short hairs stand up. She shivered and looked over her shoulder. There were people all around but none of them were paying the slightest attention to her.
She moved unobtrusively to the long buffet table and picked up a silver fork and a china plate, but the uneasy feeling persisted and now she recognized it. It was the feeling of being watched intently. This time she turned and scanned the room, but the lighting was dim and everywhere she looked she saw expensively dressed, beautifully groomed strangers talking and laughing with each other. No one was staring at her and she mentally chided herself as she turned back to the table.
It was nerves, it had to be. Not only had the wedding unstrung her, but she hadn't eaten anything all day but a half-portion of crab salad at noon. She'd been drinking champagne on an empty stomach and she needed to eat something. Gina piled her plate with steaming, succulent gourmet food and carried it to a table where she spotted Twyla sitting with a similar plate before her. She had just raised a fork full of potatoes au gratin to her mouth when Gina approached.
Twyla lowered the filled fork and glared at Gina. "I know what you're thinking so don't say it," she growled. "I solemnly swear to go back on my diet tomorrow, but tonight I'm not going to pass up any of this luscious fattening repast."
She popped the potatoes dripping with melted cheese sauce in her mouth and chewed blissfully.
Gina laughed as she took the seat beside her. "You nut, I don't care what you eat! They have strawberry cheesecake on the dessert table, would you like me to bring you a piece?"
"Oh, shut up and stop tempting me," groaned Twyla good-naturedly as she speared a batter-coated deep-fried oyster.
A hand on Gina's shoulder and a deep familiar voice caused her to look up. "Mind if I sit with you two?" Stewart asked as he put his plate on the table and sat down beside her. He sighed. "My feet are killing me and my arm aches. I've been standing in that receiving line forever and I think I've shaken hands with everyone in San Francisco."
Gina reached out and gently massaged the gray-coated shoulder. "Poor baby," she cooed as her fingers caressed him.
He smiled and put his hand over hers. "Just what I need, a twenty-five-year-old mother."
He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her palm as he murmured for her ears alone, "I have a mother and a daughter, sweetheart, but I badly need you for a wife."
Gina felt the flush rising to her face as she
squeezed Stewart's hand and lowered her head. Without ever meaning to he had jabbed at her most vulnerable spot. She knew she was being unfair to him by procrastinating at setting a date for their own wedding. It had been four months since she had accepted his engagement ring and he had every right to expect her to make the final commitment soon. It wouldn't be so urgent if they were sleeping together, but they weren't. She still couldn't allow herself to become that intimately involved with a man, not even with Stewart.
They finished eating and Stewart asked Gina to dance. She snuggled against him as they moved gracefully in time to the waltz and her troubled thoughts returned.
It wasn't that she didn't love Stewart, she did. Oh, not with the passionate intensity that she had loved Peter Van Housen; that type of insanity was a onetime experience for the very young and for that she was deeply grateful. Her feelings for Stewart were quieter, more mature and, she was sure, more lasting.
He wanted her physically and let her know it. He may be in his forties but he was a virile, passionate man and he had a right as her fiancé to expect that they would make love. It was accepted behavior these days and in spite of her strict upbringing Gina did not disapprove. Stewart loved her, he wanted to marry her as soon as possible, and still she held him off. She wondered why he put up with her nonsense, but even as she wondered she knew. Because that's the kind of man he was, unselfish, patient and kind. He would never force her into a relationship she wasn't ready for, but wasn't she taking unfair advantage of his love?
The evening seemed to drag on interminably and at intervals she still had that eerie feeling of being watched, although she could never catch anyone staring at her. The cake had finally been cut and as soon as the photographer was finished taking pictures and the bridal couple had changed clothes they would leave and then Gina could go to her room and hide.
If Ever I Loved You Page 1
