Heather Graham (10 page)

He reeked of that danger she had sensed, but though she had feared it, she had also been attracted by it. But even before, years and years before, she had been controlled by Brian. They could fight; they could argue; she could truly want to strangle him. Then he would laugh or say just the right word, and she had never felt that she had been dominated or overruled until later, until she realized that in the end she had done exactly what Brian wanted.

Had she aged well? she wondered. He was in his prime; the world would consider him a young man. Character lines were handsome on a man, but on a woman? Men go gray with dignity; women are supposed to rush out and wash it—and age!—away With Miss Clairol! But not anymore. And she had aged well.

She turned away from the mirror, not wanting to argue with her own final estimation. It was all superfluous anyway. Love did not depend oh the texture of one’s skin or on a shade of hair. If Brian had been born with leopard spots, she would have loved him because he was Brian. And love was the question now. It was the answer; it was everything. If it still existed. If it could survive twelve years…If the paths of their lives hadn’t taken separate and irrevocable turns…

She was very surprised to find Brian, in a dark blue velour robe, making pancakes. Coffee was already perking, and Josh and Jake were stuffing their mouths with the first batch of pancakes, trying to eat and outtalk each other at the same time. They fell awkwardly silent as she came into the kitchen.

Brian glanced at her briefly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she murmured, pouring herself a cup of coffee as she wondered why she was being made to feel like an interloper in her own kitchen. She caught Brian’s eyes on her again, and she knew that he had surveyed her from head to toe. Had she worn the white suit because she knew it was a good outfit for her, one that displayed her tan and the length of leg she considered her best feature?

Yes, I did,
she thought.
Because I want him to find me attractive. I want him to find me as appealing as he did all those years ago….

And because she wanted to know who the hell Lisa was! But she couldn’t ask him about Lisa, not with Jake and Josh in the kitchen.

“Want some pancakes?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so, thanks,” she murmured. After clutching a coffee cup and picking up a plate from the counter, she neared Brian and extended the plate out a bit absurdly.

She wanted to go near him, but she was afraid to because she could feel heat from him, radiating from him. She could feel every nuance of his muscles, and she longed to touch him, but she was afraid of the fire.

He plopped two pancakes from the griddle to her plate, and she murmured a quick “Thank you” before awkwardly hurrying to join the boys at the kitchen table. They both were eating in silence, which annoyed her no end. Why had she suddenly become such a bad guy?

“You’re staying home from work?” Brian asked the question as he joined them at the table.

Glancing up at him, Kim was struck with a wave of nostalgic yearning so strong it seemed to rob her of breath and strength. She had loved him so much. He had been her entire world, so much so that now, with time and distance between them she could still look at him and feel dizzy, as if she were floating. She wanted to hand every problem she’d ever faced over to him. She wanted to crawl into his arms, to forget time. She wanted to forget, to go back….But there was no going back. Hadn’t someone said that once?

“Of course, I’m staying home,” she said softly. There was a hint of reproach in her voice.

Brian turned his blue gaze to Josh and then to Jake. “Why don’t you two finish up and go get into your bathing suits and get together whatever you want to bring for a picnic? We’ll rent a boat and motor out to one of the islands.”

Jake jumped up, stuffing his last bit of pancake into his mouth. “Great, Dad.”

Josh moved more slowly. “I take it you want us to take our time getting ready?”

“You got it right, son.” Brian laughed.

Josh half smiled in return, shooting Kim a hostile glance as he drained his milk. Kim felt her temper soar. Twelve years she had put in, and now she was on the chopping block, trying to understand her sons and Brian and tiptoeing around everyone because logically she understood everyone. But she was human, too, she thought, and her fuse was eventually going to blow.

The twins left the room. For a second Brian was silent, but he was staring at her as he chewed. “Who is David?” he asked.

She frowned with confusion for a moment. “David?” Then it hit her. She had been told to hang up while he was on the phone, but
he
had been listening in on her conversation. Forgetting for a moment that he had been in some kind of imprisonment for a decade and that she was still doubting the possibilities that he could be sane, she lashed out. “Of all the nerve! How dare you listen in on me?”

He raised a cryptic brow and sipped his coffee. “I didn’t listen in on you, but I’m beginning to think I should have. I answered the phone just as you got it.”

Oh, great, she had just made herself appear really ridiculous. What was worse, she had made it sound as if there were something he shouldn’t have heard, and in David’s case, she certainly didn’t want Brian thinking that!

Kim lowered her eyes quickly. “Sorry. It’s just that you made such a point about my getting off the phone….David is an account executive at work. Actually you know him. Or knew him years ago. He was in your senior class back in Miami. David Harris.”

Brian shook his head slightly. As she had expected, he didn’t really remember David Harris. “Do you work for him?”

“No, not exactly. I’m the head photographer. I work with him only when I’m assigned to one of his accounts.”

He chewed another piece of pancake. A lock of slightly rumpled hair was over his forehead. He appeared casual, but she knew his gaze was alert. She could see his bare kneecap beneath the table, and suddenly that sight gave her little chills along the spine. There had been a time when they had been so close that she knew every little thing about him. They could make love, and she could wind up staring at his kneecap and thinking with a little awe that it was attached to a unique leg—an extension of the man. And as ridiculous as it seemed, loving that kneecap and knowing it so well had been a part of the depth of marriage, of their relationship.

Staring at that kneecap made her both shiver and feel tiny laps of heat along her spine. She wanted to touch every part of him and feel again the awe of exploration, of knowing him. He was Brian, but he was different, distant from her, within himself. She wanted him, to be in his arms, to feel his protective, possessive warmth, to be a part of him. But could she ever be a part of Brian again? Or had he grown too far away from her? He had always had an inner strength that set him a little apart from everyone. Even in their married life she had often wondered if she was truly his partner in all things or if as his wife she was respected yet thought of more as a sweet comfort, the woman he cherished and petted and cared for but never let totally into his world.

“Kim, I asked you a question.”

“What?” Staring at kneecaps could get one into trouble.

“I asked you if he gave you any trouble.”

“Who? Oh, David. No, uh, of course not. I’m very good at what I do, and I report to Mr. Simms, the owner of the agency.”

He kept watching her pensively, and she wondered if some inflection of tone of voice had given her away. But he said nothing else on the subject.

“Do you like working?”

“Most of the time.”

“Would you like to quit?”

What was he getting at? she wondered. She couldn’t quit; the house might be paid for, but there were electricity bills and phone bills and clothing and on and on each month. Her grocery bills alone were outrageous, and he couldn’t have any great plans himself for the future, or could he?

She hedged carefully. “I don’t think so, Brian. I’m not shaking the world with my photography, but I can make a ham look extremely mouthwatering! I like the challenge of working.”

There was a hint of a smile about his lips. “There would be challenge in using all that you’ve learned to take: the type of pictures that would shake up the world. The Kim I used to know was determined to capture joy and pain and the human spirit.”

“The Kim you used to know was an idealistic college student without twin boys to feed,” she said bitterly, and instantly regretted her outburst. None of it had been his fault.
But it wasn’t my fault either,
she wanted to cry out.

Brian was still smiling easily. A shadow of something had fallen over his eyes. Had he heard the reproach she hadn’t meant?

“I want to ask you something,” she said in an unintentionally sharp manner.

“Ask,” he returned coolly. The one word said so much more:
I may not answer, but ask all you like.

“Who is Lisa?”

“Lisa,” he replied softly, “is the widow of the man buried beneath my headstone.”

“Oh?” Kim hesitated for a moment. “You know her?”

He shrugged. “Yes.” For a moment Kim was afraid that he would say no more, but he continued. “When I finally got through to the proper military authorities, I learned that Lisa Barnes had been looking for Jim all these years. She’d even been to Nam several times, never giving up hope. So I went to see her. I was close to Jim. I thought the facts of his death coming from me would be easier than her hearing them from anyone else.” He was looking at Kim no longer. His eyes were in distant places, distant times. He shrugged again and said softly, “Lisa Barnes is a very special lady.”

Kim stiffened. Lisa Barnes was reverently special. It made her feel like chopped liver. Lisa Barnes had waited and searched.

Again Kim lashed out unintentionally. “Brian, I was told you were missing at first, and when you were merely missing, I waited and I searched. But then they supposedly sent you home in a box. It seemed rather absurd to keep waiting!”

His gaze returned to her, his brow lifted slightly at her vehemence. “I haven’t said anything against you, Kim.”

“No, but you implied—oh, never mind!”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything,” he said impatiently. “I face facts very well. And don’t ever tell me ‘never mind’! I’m not an invalid, nor am I crippled or insane. One of the main reasons I stayed away from you and the twins so long was that I could spend time with the best military psychiatrists. I do not wake in the night screaming and fighting unseen enemies. I will not break under strain. And I will not be treated like a child who has just had a tonsillectomy. Do you understand me?”

Kim opened and closed her mouth several times, stunned by the accuracy of the very annoyed attack. “All right then, Brian Trent,” she began furiously, her temper seeming to sizzle and skyrocket. But before she could go any farther, the phone started ringing again. He started to rise, but she leaped past him, her eyes searing into his. “I’ll get it.”

She was glad she had decided to prove some inexplicable point by answering the phone because the caller was Keith.

When she heard his voice, she felt torn in two. Alone with Brian, all she could do was remember the past, remember that although she had learned to live without him, a deep-rooted love had always been with her. She could think only of how she wanted to be with him, feel him, touch and be touched.

But with Keith’s voice coming to her, she was wrenched back to her reality, the reality of the past years. Keith, the gentle, kind, giving man she had also learned to love.

“You didn’t call me,” he said softly.

Brian was watching her.

“I haven’t really had a chance.”

“I love you.”

Any reply Kim might have made froze in her throat as she saw Brian rise and begin to saunter toward her. Saunter? He was stalking her, she thought. Slowly, calculatedly. He could take his time because he was sure of the outcome of his actions.

“I can’t talk,” Kim blurted quickly.

“We have to talk!” Keith said over the wire with exasperation.

Men! They all were incredibly stupid! Kim thought. Brian was moving closer and closer, that politely dangerous inquiry hiking up his golden brows.

“You do have to talk to him, Kim,” Brian said quietly. “Tell him you won’t be seeing him again.”

She stared at Brian, somewhat paralyzed. His hands were in the pockets of his robe; he was about two feet in front of her. His words rang with definite warning; his jaw was firmly set.

“All right, all right,” Keith mumbled over the wire. “I get it—he’s there with you. Meet me for lunch at the ale place by the university on Wednesday.”

“I can’t!” she muttered.

“Thursday?”

“No!”

“Oh, hell! Kim, I’m not made of steel. I know you have to move carefully but…Monday, no later! That will give you a week.”

“I have to go!”

“All right!”

The phone clicked off just as Brian gently took the receiver from her wire-clenched fingers. “Hello?” he said into the receiver, eyeing her intensely as he realized Keith had already hung up. She felt like a kid caught in the act of stealing a piece of gum.

Brian slowly replaced the receiver. His hands slid up her neck to hold her face between them. His thumbs caressed her cheekbones as he stared deep into her eyes, his touch absurdly gentle considering the tension she could feel within the powerful breadth of his hands.

“Kim,” he said, and his voice was quiet yet somehow a lash, “I’ve given you your choices. File divorce papers, or tell that man it’s all over.”

She didn’t like him so near. Her senses swam as she tried to lower her eyes, but she discovered that his gentle touch was firm and relentless. Her senses swam with the warm, clean scent of him, but all the while she shook with a fear of his coming too close. Why did she have to be in this position? Guilty, feeling she owed both men, feeling she would be disloyal to either.

“You’re not being fair,” she finally managed to stutter. “I can’t just tell someone that I—I’ve been seeing for three years to go to hell!”

His hands moved slowly around to her nape. One locked into her hair while the other moved down to the small of her back, and she suddenly found herself pressed against him, feeling the heat that radiated from him, the steel pressure of his chest and thighs. She could even feel vividly the self-control that riddled his muscles, as if there were something within him that was ready to erupt but was held back, carefully held back. And when it did erupt, it would be a maelstrom so volatile, so flaming and wild that it would sweep away all before it. It ignited within her, sensations as yearning and wild as the violence within him, sensations that made the world blur before her, that left her weak, as helpless as a log in a storm-swept sea, and shivering, quivering, with fear, with uncertainty.