If You Loved Me (24 page)

"You win, Gray," she told the empty bedroom. "Last night, yesterday, for all that happened between us in this room, you never once said the word
love."

Last night in the dark hours Gray had draped her in a soft woolen shirt from his closet. They'd been going downstairs to find something to eat. She'd shivered and he'd called her soft, but his eyes had told her he loved the softness. He'd gotten out the shirt. The sleeves hung to her knees and he'd laughed and turned them up. Then his eyes had dropped to the edge of the shirt across her naked thighs.

"I'll turn that up for you, too," he had said, his voice strangled by the passion flaring in his eyes.

They never did get downstairs. Instead they loved until they were tangled together in exhaustion. That was when he filled the whirlpool bath, when they were too exhausted for loving until the storm grew again with breathless suddenness.

The shirt he'd dressed her in last night was draped over the foot of the bed. She reached to pick it up.

No. Tidying away the leftovers from their loving would be like saying good-bye twice. Let Gray return here after she was gone, let
him
remember. He had groaned her name, touching her with hands that trembled as he told her he had dreamed her always. Maybe it was a lie, but it had been true as he said it. Emma would have that to remember, even if he hadn't been able to tell her he loved her.

She put her bag on a chair near the door. She would handle the good-byes in a dignified and sophisticated manner if it killed her.

She closed the bedroom door and went into the corridor, then slowly down the stairs. Gray was in the kitchen, dressed in boots and jeans, his black leather jacket zipped against the wind she could hear outside. A pair of sunglasses was folded in the pocket of his jacket.

He was ready to go, ready to send her away.

"I'll take you back to Prince Rupert."

Against her will, words slipped out. "I could stay longer."

He looked at her then, his eyes flat.

She tangled her fingers in the hair drifting down over her left shoulder. Who was she fooling? She'd put on makeup for him, had worn her pale blue silk blouse and left her hair drift free because he'd said he remembered it that way. The truth was she had wanted him to lose his gaze in the hair he'd said he dreamed of, wanted him to be incapable of letting her go away because he loved her.

He unzipped his jacket and hung it on a clothes tree in the kitchen. "Get your things together. I'll sort out some prints in the darkroom while I'm waiting for you."

"Do I get breakfast before you throw me out?"

A muscle jerked at the side of his mouth. "We can eat in Prince Rupert."

"You're in a big hurry to get rid of me."

"Emma, you know as well as I do this isn't going anywhere. I've got some work to do in the darkroom. Let me know when you're ready."

She followed him into the darkroom and his hands were already filled with pictures. She'd seen that grim look on his face before, yet she couldn't walk away without trying.

"I love you, Gray. I've always loved you. Behind that wall of yours, I think you love me, too."

"Emma, don't do this."

She smoothed her hands on the denim fabric that covered her thighs. "You didn't tell me why your marriage failed, but I can guess. Even when you found a woman you were willing to to marry, you couldn't bring yourself to tell her you loved her."

He slid one picture off the pile and placed it on the counter beside him, his eyes on the image of the big gray wolf he'd photographed. He was afraid to look at her, afraid to talk about love. Emma knew it but had no tool to change his mind.

She saw the truth in the hard tension of his back. No matter what she said, no matter what she offered, Graham MacKenzie did not want to love her.

"It's time for you to go back to Alex." Gray's voice was deliberate, empty of emotion.

"Alex?" She raked one shaking hand through her hair, driving it back from her face. "You believe I'd go back to Alex, that I'd marry Alex Kent after what happened between us last night? I can never marry Alex now."

"Why not?" He laughed harshly. "It wouldn't be the first time you've married a man while claiming to love me."

She wished she could turn away from the harsh rejection on his face—wished she didn't have to look at his lips moving as he said words to hurt her, wished she could give up, accept that he wouldn't love her, and let it go.

"I was wrong to marry Paul when I loved you. I hurt Paul and I hurt myself. I wouldn't change it, because how could I wish Chris unborn? If I hadn't come up here, I could have married Alex and it would have worked, because we love each other as friends, and my heart was free because I'd gotten over you. I was even crazy enough to think I could come up here and see you, just get you to help me find Chris. I never dreamed I'd fall in love with you all over again. I had no idea I'd end up wanting—"

"What do you want?" His voice was a growl, more threat than invitation.

"Everything. I want it all."

"You always did." He stared down at the pictures in his hands. "What do you suggest, Emma? Shall we get married? Is that what you want, the poet's love? Come live with me, give up your life?"

She shuddered at the rage flashing in his eyes.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Are you offering?" His eyes were flat, the blue almost gone. "How much do you want
everything?
Enough to jump into an impossible relationship with me? Enough to give up your medical practice?"

"How much do you love me, Gray? Enough to give up your wilderness?" Her hands clenched at her sides. "But you don't love me at all, do you? You don't love anyone, and I'm not going to do a rerun. Maybe you believe back in Farley Bay I failed you as much as I believed you failed me. It's true that I wanted to have it all without paying for any of it. I was greedy and spoiled, and I certainly wasn't about to look for a compromise. I've grown up. I've learned that loving means being willing to find solutions. People who love each other make compromises, not demands."

"Emma," he said harshly, "don't dissect us. There's no point."

She shook her head and felt the hair flying everywhere as if she were a child again. "I'll do what I choose. When you asked me to come with you all those years ago I tore myself up over hesitating. I didn't know the truth. You would have backed off damned fast if I'd actually tried to go with you."

She made her hands into fists. Her eyes dared him to answer. "When I looked like saying yes, Gray, you threw all the reasons
why not
in my face. We were kids then, but we're not children now. Don't do it again."

She pushed her glasses up. "Don't ever again ask anything of me, not unless you can tell me you love me. Not unless you've realized you can trust me enough to admit you love me."

"You don't change, do you? You can't build a life on passion, Emma. It flashes and it's gone."

She stepped closer to him, holding herself stiffly erect. She saw his eyes flicker. "What if you're wrong, Gray? What if love is the only thing you
can
build a life on?"

A muscle jerked in his jaw. He shuffled the pictures in his hand and put them in a pile on the counter.

"I'll be in Seattle next month," he said.

She turned her head to look along the corridor. She could see a scrap of blue through the window in his front door. "Next month, but you want me out of here now? Why, Gray? Was last night too much? Too close? You need to back off now?"

"Stop second-guessing me."

She cupped her elbows in her palms and took in every detail of his darkroom. "Why don't you want me to stay? Why next month? Why not now?"

"I have a book to put together, Chico to pick up." He turned, his voice as empty as his eyes. "I'll be in Seattle in mid September. I'll call you."

She met his eyes with anger. "A book to finish. Chico to pick up. When I was eighteen I'd have begged you to let me stay. I'd have promised not to bother you if you'd just let me hang around." She folded her arms together under her breasts. "I'd have begged you to let me help you with the dog, make your meals. I guess I've grown up a bit since then."

"It doesn't sound like it."

He shoved the prints to one side and folded his arms across his chest, shutting her out. "You weren't complaining last night. Yesterday you didn't need words and promises. Yesterday it was enough that we wanted each other. Why not leave it there?"

Her face felt tight, the skin stretched too thin. "You want to see me next month?"

"Yes."

"Where are we headed?"

One of his hands clenched into a fist. "Next month—"

"When you come to Seattle, don't call me."

"In a month you'll feel differently."

"Yes," she agreed. "I probably will. I'm not made of ice." Gray unfolded his arms, his fathomless eyes locked on her. He moved so slowly, took so long to cross the short space between them. Her nerves went sharp with the knowledge that he was closer and then closer again. He slid his fingers into her hair and stared down into her eyes.

"You never had sex with Alex, did you?"

She shook her head silently.

He combed his fingers softly through her hair. "When I touched you yesterday, we were both so hungry." He untangled one hand from her hair, took her glasses away, and bent his mouth to hers.

She stared at his approaching face until everything but his mouth blurred.

"I would have been jealous of Alex," he murmured, "but I realized when I touched you no one else had, not for a long time." He brushed her mouth with his before he took his kiss to her eyes. "I can make you need me again."

She turned to fire and reached for him, felt the breadth of his shoulders and his mouth dip into hers. She clung tightly as he slipped his hands inside her blouse, and then she fell, slipping down into his touch.

"Gray, I need more."

He bracketed her waist with his hands, then lifted her high. She held his shoulders, caught in the blur as the room spun. His breath caressed her cheek. He set her down on the counter, high enough she could stare straight into his eyes, and stood in front of her, his hands still on her waist, her hands resting on his shoulders.

Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt. She saw her hands move, knew they would slide to the buttons of his shirt, seeking his warmth.

"I'll call you when I'm in Seattle," he said harshly. "You'll see me."

Yes, he would call. After last night she was certain he would call. He needed her too much to stay away, but he hated needing her.

"You'll see me, Emma. With this between us, how can you say no?"

Her lips parted to accept his mouth. He slid one hand down to her hips and made the kiss instantly demanding, shockingly intimate. His hands hardened on her hips so he was nestled tight in the cradle of her parted legs. She was molten and he was hard. His caress parted her blouse and pushed it back, then his mouth sought the softness of her breasts. Her thighs clenched around him and she twisted in his arms, found one hand free and pushed the strap of her bra down so that when his kiss came it was on her naked breast.

His whisper against her breast was a growl of triumph. "You need this as much as I do." He slipped her other bra strap down, freeing her breasts and binding her arms with the fallen straps. He cupped her breasts in his hands and brought them together to his lips and she was clutching him close, her thighs straining.

His hands were at her waist, unfastening the catch of her slacks.

He lifted his head and imprisoned her eyes, while she fought her own pounding pulse desperately.

"I want more than this." Her throat hurt, wounded by her own words. "I want a husband who loves me. I want another child."

He growled a low curse. "You want too much."

"I always did," she whispered. "Gray, I can't be your lover if you won't let me in. I know it's difficult for you. I don't know why that is. I imagine it has something to do with your mother, because you never talk about her. I can't change you, Gray, and I don't think you want to change yourself."

She touched his mouth with her fingers. "If you loved me, if you could trust my love, nothing would be impossible. But you don't, so please don't call me when you come to Seattle." She cupped her hand against his cheek. "Gray, if you won't love me, if you don't trust me enough to love me, then please let me be free."

She felt the air fill his chest, a deep ragged breath that left his eyes masked. "Is that what you want, Emma? To be free of me?"

"You know what I want." When she smiled it brought tears into her throat. "I want everything. If I can't have that, then I want it to be over."

She saw him swallow, his eyes bleak. "I'll get the plane ready."

He walked away, leaving her. Emma knew she could call him and he would come back. She could go into his arms, and if she could only keep her dreams hidden, he would take her once again to the place where his body told her the truth, but his lips wouldn't speak.

She stared at the wall of his darkroom. The image of a young cougar stared back at her with an expression of arrested curiosity.

One day soon, that picture would be in a book. The friendly young man from the bookshop down on Fourth Street would call her on the telephone. She would hear his voice when she played back her messages, sandwiched between calls from worried parents.

"We've got the new Gray MacKenzie book in. I'm keeping a copy for you, Dr. Garrett."

He was Gray even on the title page of his books, not Graham, and she didn't even know why he would not let anyone call him by his full name.

She loved him, but she must leave and never see him again except in pictures.

She would buy the new book, turn its pages. Chris would be living his new life in the dorm with his friends. Emma would be alone, remembering. She would turn a page, then suddenly she would see this young cougar and she would remember sitting on the counter here in Gray's darkroom, breathing passion and heartache with his hands on her, his mouth turning her body heavy with desire so that she burned for him as she choked out the words that ended it all.