A Distant Summer (13 page)

“Don’t, Tucker. I’m only trying to discuss the situation with you.”

“You’re trying to do something, Kris, but discussion isn’t the right word for it. Are you looking for an argument? An excuse, maybe, to get me out of your house? If that’s what you want, just say so.”

She bent her head, and Tucker stared down at the gossamer sheen of her hair. God, how he wanted to weave his fingers into the shiny blond strands. He wasn’t leaving this house, no matter what she might say.

“I want to end this, Tucker.” The words came low and muffled, and he leaned close to hear. “The rumors, the expectations, everything. You’re the only one who can do that. Please, Tucker, let it end.”

Maybe if he hadn’t been standing so near to her, maybe if she hadn’t lifted her face to his as she made the almost desperate-sounding plea, maybe then he would have tried harder to understand. But with the silken caress of her breath on his skin, he couldn’t think, didn’t want to analyze. Not when there was a simpler, more tempting interpretation waiting on her lips.

Heart pounding, all hesitation gone, he lowered his mouth to hers, felt the tremor that coursed through her at his first gentling touch and knew he loved her. Completely. Without reservation. As the kiss deepened, his arms closed around her slenderness, and his love opened to draw her irrevocably into his soul’s embrace. Her hands lay passively against his chest for only a moment before they slid up and around his shoulders to hold him as he was holding her.

This then was the end of it, he thought. This wild, tender explosion of sensation was the end of falling in love and the beginning of so much more. This was the end of the tension, the wary courting. It was the end of expectation and the dawn of reality.

Kristina.

Tucker.

A husky murmur of longing floated to her ears, and Kris wondered if she had spoken his name aloud. She wanted to; she wanted to hear the rhythmic sound of it, wanted to taste the wonder of his name on her tongue. But she would not separate herself from him, not willingly, not again. This was the end of her resistance. She had neither the strength nor the will to fight a love that had begun long before this moment of acknowledgment.

She was in love with Tucker. There would not be an end to that. Even now the feel of his skin against her fingertips seemed a pleasure she had always known, as familiar to her as the touch of morning sunlight. And she welcomed his return to her arms with the same sweet acceptance.

Her lips clung to his tenderness; her thoughts clung to the truth dawning within her. She had believed his leaving would end her conflict, would return her life to its normal pattern. But she had deceived only herself. Tucker had known how she felt. He had understood the emotions, the words she hadn’t said. And he had ended the lie with the honesty of his kiss.

“Kristina.” It was a rough, warm whisper against her cheek, a soothing promise to the wild, pulsing beat of her desire. His lips feathered along the curve of her chin, lingered at the corners of her mouth, touched her nose, her eyelids, her temple, stole her breath, and then revived it with his own. He retraced the design until she was weak with wanting him, until she had no strength for anything but the loving.

Her hands caressed him, murmuring a silent message of admiration and urgency over the powerful slope of his shoulders. His body was so muscular, so smooth and firm, and she wondered at the gentle pressure of his embrace, which made her feel safe and cherished and small, yet she was aware that he was surrendering as much to her as she was to him.

She touched him freely, allowing her fingertips and her lips, to know and communicate the full extent of her exquisite delight. This was the morning of their love, and she wouldn’t turn her face from its warming glow. It might be transient, fleeting, offering only a short span of sunlight until the secret night would separate them. But she could not turn away.

She fitted into the symmetry of his masculine angles as if she had been formed for that purpose. And perhaps she had. Tucker seemed to take that intriguing possibility for granted. His hands cupped her hips, aligning her against him with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

When his lips discovered the sensitive hollows of her neck, Kristina found the roughly soft covering of hair on his chest and eased her fingers into its damp tangle. Shivers of wonder wrapped themselves around her, and the empty feeling inside her became a slowly burning need.

With a low, throaty murmur of longing Tucker lifted his head and looked into her eyes as he began to coax the buttons of her blouse apart. It was a leisurely persuasion that held her motionless, almost breathless, in a world that consisted solely of blue eyes and a gentle touch, a world that belonged only to her and to Tucker. She was lost in the enchantment, lost to all but this new knowledge of a love shared. For that was the true magic —the love that had grown despite her wish.

It shouldn’t be. It was rooted in a past that stretched cloying tendrils into the future. Yet she felt the sweet innocence of the existence of this love that she had never hoped to know, never dared dream he might share.

The fabric of her blouse slipped away, and her skin tingled with the pleasing awareness of his gaze. Kristina didn’t know or care how he undressed her; she was conscious only of wanting him to do so. She offered encouragement with slow strokes of her palms from his shoulders along the corded muscles of his arms to his wrists and then back to the beginning point. Desire was a melting sensation deep within her.

When at last she was clothed only in his admiring look, she lifted her hands to her hair. In a matter of seconds it tumbled about her shoulders, a cascade of disheveled silver and gold, a symbol of the emotion she wanted to voice, the intimacy she wanted to know.

There was a seductive shyness in her movements as she lowered her arms and waited for Tucker’s response. It wasn’t intentional, simply a result of her own disquieting passion, a realization that no matter how many times he had made love to her, this was different.

The words, the spoken confirmation were an intangible part of this joining. She sensed that he was savoring the silence, waiting to tell her how he felt, just as she was testing the weight of her own emotion, trying to shape it into syllables. She didn’t really believe “I love you” would be said by either of them for a while. It was too newly discovered, too unfamiliar, too special. And Kristina knew that once said, it would bring irrevocable changes to them both. But she would tell him when the moment was right. No matter what had happened in the past or what would happen in the future, Tucker deserved to hear her say it.

He removed his clothes and held out his hand to her. She accepted it without hesitation, going to him and lifting her face to his. For long, quiet seconds she stood waiting for the kindling stroke of his kiss, wanting, needing to feel the texture of his masculinity against her skin. When he bent his head and his breath mingled with hers, Kris gave up the waiting. She pressed into the shelter of his body and captured him in her arms.

Together they sank to the carpet and began the timeless ritual of caressing and responding to the sensual pleasure of each other. His hand at her ankle made a tantalizing foray upward. His lips at her breast heated the ache in her stomach to a fevered passion.

When he shifted his weight and filled the emptiness inside her, Kris cried out softly at the sweet tenderness of their union. Tucker was gentle, and she loved him all the more because he gave each kiss, each rhythmic movement a special touch of love. But as desire crescendoed and enveloped her in a trembling, building need, Kris wanted the driving force of his strength to consume her. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace.

Then, in one, glorious, splendid, perfect moment, they experienced the essence of their love, and she knew she was forever lost in its beauty.

Chapter Eight

It was difficult for Kristina to awaken the next morning. Something was pressing in on her, weighting her dreams with a heavy apprehension. Kristina struggled to escape the shadowed, sluggish world of sleep. Her breathing quickened, then steadied as she began to recognize the familiarity of her bedroom: same patterned wallpaper; same dark oak dresser and bed frame; same butterfly-print sheets.

She rubbed her foot over the bed linen and felt the warmth of Tucker’s body beside her. Even the same lover as the night before. Her lips curved gently but never quite formed a smile. How odd that already he felt familiar in her bed. But then hadn’t he become the most familiar part of her every day?

Turning her head, she looked at the dark hair, mussed by sleep and her own loving touch. His face was relaxed and still, his lips pale against the contrast of his morning beard. Eyes closed, he dreamed on, and she watched, remembering other awakenings in his arms, wondering how many more there would be.

Kris held back a sigh as her gaze moved to the window, to the light stealing past the curtains and into the room. The carpet looked almost white in the concentrated pool of sun. Its natural beige color was visible in a wide patch of uncluttered floor before it darkened to a shadowed brown in the corners. It was Sunday, and her choices seemed to have the same shaded pattern as the carpet.

What was she thinking? There wasn’t any choice for her, any more than there was a true variance in the color of the carpet. Only the lighting, the perspective, made it appear different. And she had lost the privilege of perspective. She had forgotten the reason for all her careful rules, and she had let herself fall in love with Tucker.

He stirred, then settled again, and emotion rocked her heartbeat with a soft, sweet tenderness.

Let herself?

She had been helpless to prevent it. And now she had to face the reality that her fantasy had formed.

Slowly, so as not to disturb him, she eased herself from the bed and stood looking down at him for several quiet minutes, savoring the solitude and the intimacy of watching her lover sleep. He belonged here with her. She acknowledged that truth just as she accepted the fact that he would not stay.

Pivoting, she walked silently into the adjoining bathroom and splashed cool water on her face. She rubbed her skin to rosy life with a towel, and then, with deliberate intent, she forced her gaze to the mirror. Dusky-lashed gray eyes stared back at her, and she combed a hand through the untidy strands of pale hair. She eased the arch of one slim brow with her fingertip, but the mirrored reflection would not release her from its hold.

Once, on another Sunday morning, she had stood before another mirror, searching for outward signs of change. Had it really been only eleven years? It seemed an eternity since she had been so young or so foolish as to believe that life could be seen in a piece of silvered glass.

There was no need to search her reflection today. She knew the changes that Tucker had brought. Her attitudes, her routine, even the way she thought about tomorrow. He had changed them all. On that other Sunday she’d had no idea of what lay ahead —decisions, responsibility, maturity.

A child.

Dear God! How was she going to tell him that he had a daughter?

Somewhere.

Kris had thought she could face anything. On the day she signed the adoption papers and kissed her baby good-bye, she had believed she would die from the hurting. She had wanted to die, but time had patched the scars and mended the pain to a soft, aching emptiness. Somehow she had survived.

But now she had to tell Tucker, and suddenly that seemed much worse than anything she had ever had to do. To say the words, knowing the shock, the hurt, the frustration he would feel.

The conflict churned inside her and would not be soothed. Why had she gone to that courtroom to see him? Why had she opened a door that should have remained forever closed?

Kristina reached for a brush and began pulling it through her hair. The bristles were rough against her scalp, but the woman in the mirror displayed no sympathy. The eyes that stared back at Kris were clear and steady without a hint of uncertainty. The brushstrokes slowed and then ceased altogether.

It was time to stop making excuses. She had brought about the situation that faced her now, just as she had created the situation all those years before. She had lied to Tucker by the very silence which she had used to protect him. But hadn’t she really been trying to protect herself? Wasn’t it possible that she had gone to the courtroom that day not out of simple curiosity but for a much more complex reason? Had she wanted to see him, touch him, love him because he was the only link she had  to her child?

Abruptly she turned her back and closed her eyes to the thought. It wasn’t something she wanted to consider, but it had to be acknowledged. Before she faced Tucker with the truth, she had to confront her own motivations, her own feelings. She had to know beyond a doubt that her love for him was pure and honest, an emotion separate from the past.

“Kristina?”

Tucker called to her from the other room, and her heartbeat quickened with a gentle wonder. She knew in that moment, in the husky thrill that rippled through her, no amount of self-examination would change the fact of her love. Whatever her subconscious reasons for seeking him out after so many years, he was a part of her life now. She loved him now.

With hairbrush still in her hand, she made a slow turn and offered one final excuse to the mirror. A few more days won’t make any difference. I’ll tell him.

Soon.

“Kris?” His call came again.

“Coming.” She tucked the brush into the drawer, aware suddenly that time—once her trusted friend—was pressing in on her, weighing her down with its passing.

“Soon.” She whispered the promise aloud and then deliberately avoided her reflection as she left the room and went to be with Tucker.

* * * *

“Gary said we could have the cabin for the weekend.” Tucker dropped the information into the darkness and felt Kristina go tense beside him on the bed.

“Oh. That would be nice, but I have so much to do at the office.”