Love Songs (42 page)

“Then what?”

“I just marvel at you. Your purity and honesty. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“And if I
did
become pregnant? Would you be marveling then?”

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice.

But Serena’s held enough for them both. “You wouldn’t mind my bearing your child?”

“Of course not.”

“Even knowing what you know?” At his frown she elaborated. “Even knowing that the truth would come out one day?”

Taken off guard, Tom let her go when Serena scrambled over him suddenly. Heading for the bathroom, she stopped short, hung her head, and waited. She knew what it was that had just driven her from Tom’s arms, but she wasn’t ready for it.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” he groaned from directly behind, turning her into his arms to rescue her again. “I’ve told you once that the past doesn’t matter to me. If I could do it all over again I’d do things differently. But it’s done. I can’t change what happened then. And it has no bearing on what’s happening now.” Cupping her face in the power of his hands, he tilted it up. “Don’t you see, when I look at you I see none of the past. I only see now, and tomorrow.”

Serena was unprepared for this softness, just as she’d been unprepared for all the very positive things she’d discovered about Tom. She was drawn to him, excited by him beyond belief. The thought of never seeing him after this night was as painful as the thought of living with this ghost from the past. Her eyes brimmed in anguish as she returned the intensity of his gaze with her own.

“Oh, Tom, what am I going to do?”

6

Tom kissed her tenderly. “What you’re going to do, Serena, is to stand right here for just a minute.” He touched her lips lightly with his, then proceeded to convert the sofa into the king-sized bed he’d touted earlier that evening.

Serena watched him as he worked. She tried desperately to be as nonchalant about his nakedness as he appeared to be, yet she found herself entranced, unable to look away. His body was spectacular, that of an athlete, well-toned and muscular, with the coordination to match.

“Do you play tennis, too?” she asked impulsively.

Pausing in his work, Tom straightened and grinned. “How could you tell?”

In answer her eye fell to trace the faded lines of his tan, the faint ring on his upper arms, his calves, his thighs.

“Are you disappointed?” he smiled crookedly, standing boldly still.

“That you play tennis?” She groped for reason, far too aware of her own nudity as she studied his.

“That I’m forty, with the body to prove it.”

“Tom, it never
occurred
to me to think of your age.” But she grinned. “You must be searching for compliments. You know you’re in your prime.”

The gleam in his eye teased her further, though he bent to finish his work. “There! Now, you, Serene Highness, go here.” Leading her lightly by the hand, he sat her in bed. “I’ll be your backrest.” Climbing agilely in beside her he propped pillows high beneath his head and drew her down against his chest.

“Now what?” she whispered, unsure once more.

“Now we talk.”

Serena exploded into giddy laughter. “Talk? You make me feel like a very naked queen and expect me to talk?”

“Would you rather make love again?”

“Shame on you, Tom.” She fought fire with fire. “You’re forty years old. Are you really up to it again?”

Without warning he slithered over her, trapping her in his web of masculinity. “That will definitely cost you,” he growled half-playfully, pinning her hands to either side. “Kiss me.”

“We’ll talk.”

“Kiss me!”

“Tom, this won’t solve anything—”

“Kiss me!” The fire in his eyes was the same that she identified so strongly with the cub reporter of her memory.

“Please,” she pleaded. “You frighten me when you look at me like that.”

He softened instantly but held her still. “I’m sorry, love. It’s what you do to me. I could make love to you all night. But we
do
have to talk. Now,”—he grinned—“just a little kiss.”

Telling herself that she acted only to please him, Serena raised her lips to his and delivered what she intended to be a “little kiss.” Somewhere between “little” and “kiss,” though, she found herself partner in a volatile venture that threatened an imminent explosion. He let go of her hands and she used her freedom to start a foray of her own that left him shuddering with reawakening excitement.

“What was that you were saying about my age?”

Through the pleasure of what she felt she couldn’t be angry. “I was saying that you are very definitely in your prime. And that we should talk.”

“Serena.”

“Yes?”

“Uh … that’s enough…”

“Something wrong?”

“Serena!”

“What is it, Tom? Speak up.”

“Damn it, Serena. I can’t think rationally, let alone talk, unless you stop what you’re doing!”

“You started it.”

“
You
stop it!”

Feeling eminently powerful, Serena tormented him for a moment longer before leisurely trailing her fingertips up his body to the throbbing pulse point at his neck. “Better?” she crooned sweetly.

Her humor eluded Tom. “Give me a minute,” he rasped, taking several deep and steadying breaths. Finally he gave an exaggerated sigh. “All right. We talk.”

“Tell me about your work.”

He opened one lazy eye to look at her. “
I
should talk?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What you do.”

He sighed patiently. “I publish newspapers.”

“
Every day
, Tom. What do you actually
do?
”

When his answer was slow in coming she looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest. He was studying her closely. “Why are you asking me this, Serena? I would have thought it was just what you wouldn’t want to hear. As a matter of fact, I’m amazed at your calmness.”

His line of thought was easy to follow. “So am I,” she whispered almost to herself, lying back on the sheet and staring at the ceiling. “I’m not quite sure I understand
myself.
”

“And that’s what
I
want to discuss. You. Your feelings. About what just happened. About what happened sixteen years ago.” Tom rolled to his side and propped himself up on an elbow. Serena turned her head sideways to look at him.

“This is all so strange,” she began, struggling to piece together the puzzle. “I mean, here I am … lying here … with you.”

“And you seem very complacent about it all. Very serene.”

For an instant her hazel gaze flared. “What would you prefer? That I rant and rave? Scream that you made me do it? I’m not that way, Tom. You should know that by now!”

“But, I didn’t—”

“
I know that!
That’s just the point. Nothing has happened here that I didn’t want to happen. I enjoyed every minute of your lovemaking.” She was about to mention the game, then thought better of it. What had begun as an illusion had burgeoned into the real thing. The thought hit her with stunning force. Looking away, she fought the abrupt awareness of her emotions. When she turned her head toward him once more there was sadness in her eyes. “It’s odd, what’s happened. When I’m with you, looking at you, touching you, wanting you to do the same to me, I can’t remember who you are. I only
feel
things now. You blot out all thoughts of what I should be remembering.” Her voice rose in agitation. “And the worst of it is that, even right now, I’m not sorry. I don’t
want
to remember anything. I know it’s there, but I can very happily push it out of my mind—at least until tomorrow.”

“It
is
tomorrow, love,” Tom spoke on a sober note. “And we’ve got to work this out. You’ve created a dichotomy in your mind. On the one hand, there’s the Tom Reynolds whom you hate on sight. On the other, there’s me.”

She grimaced. “Very well put.”

“The question is, how do we bring the two together?”

For the first time since she’d sought the solace of Tom’s arms Serena felt truly disturbed. “I’m not sure that’s possible. It’ll always be there, Tom. I’ll always know that you were the one who broke my father.”

Tom’s heated glance had nothing to do with passion. “That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? You refuse to face the truth.”

“The truth?
Whose
truth?”

He ignored her barb. “Your father broke himself, Serena. I didn’t do it. Oh”—he held up a hand to ward off her protest—“I know what I did. I confess to being impulsive and arrogant. I saw my soapbox and climbed on it with the eagerness typical of a kid. I was young and brash. But though I might have been guilty of zeal, my sense of conviction was intact. I did what I thought was right.”

Clutching the sheet to her breasts, Serena rose to a sitting position. “Ruining a man and his family?”

“Standing up for honesty.”

“You were ambitious! You were looking for headlines!” Her eyes grew misty. “You didn’t care what happened, only that your paper got the story under
your
byline!”

“No, Serena.” Tom, too, sat forward, the sheet falling to his navel. “That was a minor point. You didn’t know me then. It was idealism as much as anything else that drove me. I was disgusted with what I’d found in that spotlight series of white-collar crime. Your father wasn’t the only one exposed.”

“He was the only one who mattered to me!”

“I know, I know,” he said softly. Lifting a hand, he reached to brush a wisp of hair back from her face.

Serena flinched, her eyes full and luminous. “It’s things like
this
that confuse me. How can you be so gentle?…” Her words died at the tightening of her throat. How could she be in love? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t possible. Or was it? Tormented, she swayed toward Tom.

“Hold me,” she cried in agony. “Make me forget it all, Tom. You can do that.” Seeking his strength, she reached tentatively for him.

“Serena, I don’t know.…”

“Please, Tom.” The need was born and swelling fast. “Love me again. Help me.”

With a shuddering groan he gathered her to him. “Oh, Serena, Serena. What am I going to do with you? You’re as much a split personality as you believe me to be. There’s the Strickland side of you that refuses to forgive me for what happened so very long ago. And then there’s … Serena. Beautiful, sweet Serena. Tranquil to the world, a flame of passion in my arms.”

“Tom,” she whispered his name against the warm hair of his chest. “Love me…”

Knowing he had no choice, his own emotions rising to meet hers, Tom loved her long and hard. This time there were no words of pretense and illusion. There was no slow seduction, no masterful torment. Rather there was the richness of love, raw and new, all-encompassing in its frenzy, and totally beyond control.

The silence of the night was broken only by moans and sighs, by cries of need and gasps of satisfaction. Again and again they sought each other, finding glory in the loss of separate identities, joy in becoming one. There were no attempts at explanation when they fell to the bed a final time, exhausted and weak, yet content. It was as though neither wished to disturb the tentative peace. The light of morning would do that on its own.

*   *   *

Serena awoke to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and the sight of Tom sitting beside her. He wore nothing but a pair of hip-hugging jeans and an expression that was decidedly troubled.

“I’m sorry.” She pushed herself up against the pillows, holding the sheet to her breasts. “You should have woken me sooner. What time is it?”

Returning from the private world of his thoughts, Tom blinked. “It’s just after ten. You were tired.”

“What about you? Been up long?” She took the mug he had been using when he offered it and sipped the coffee. Its warming effect was secondary to that of the intimacy of sharing.

“Not long. How do you feel?”

She stretched, then blushed. “A little stiff.”

“How about a hot shower?”

“Mmm, that sounds good.”

“Serena…”

“Yes?”

He seemed strangely unsure. “You’re free today, aren’t you?”

“It’s Sunday. The shop’s closed.”

“No, I mean other things. Can you spend the day with me?”

Looking away, she frowned. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Her gaze retraced its path to his with deliberateness. “I don’t want to rehash that whole thing. Not today.” Not after the heavenly night they’d spent in each other’s arms.

“Wouldn’t it be wise to try to work something out?”

“Not today.”