Nightway (22 page)

“John said he had a surefire hangover remedy,” she remembered. “He was going to give me the recipe
because I drank so much champagne tonight.” Pain flashed through her head. “Oh, God, was it only tonight?” She closed her eyes as a terrible shudder ran through her.

There was the faint sound of movement beside her. Lanna opened her eyes to see Hawk bending over her. The whiskey bottle and glass were gone from his hand. A resigned grimness was in his eyes. He slipped an arm behind her back, his hand cupping the opposite side of her rib cage.

“What are you doing?” Lanna asked in absent confusion.

“Bed is where you belong now.” His other arm hooked itself under her knees to scoop her out of the chair and carry her to the bedroom.

Lanna wasn’t convinced he was right, but she didn’t protest. She let an arm slide around his neck for balance as she was brought against his chest. Her head rested wearily on his shoulder, distantly aware of the flexed muscles in his arms and back. Again she found a vague comfort in his strength. His solidness was something to lean on.

In the bedroom, Hawk set her on her feet before turning on the switch to light the darkened room. Lanna watched him, swaying slightly and needing to be led by the hand. When he came back to her, it was to turn her around and unzip the back of her dress. She made no effort to help him or stop him when he slid it from her shoulders to fall around her ankles. Next, he lifted up her slip and drew it over her head.

Her mind drifted back in time, to forgotten memories of her childhood when she had fallen asleep in the car and been carried to her room by her father. So long ago, she had stood motionless like this while her father undressed her to put her to bed. This familiar pattern was being repeted now, with Hawk in place of her
father, and she was soothed by it. Her brassiere was unfastened and removed. Then her pantyhose were rolled down and slipped from her feet.

“Where is your nightgown?” Hawk asked, standing impassively in front of her.

Lanna blankly returned his look. She wore pajamas. Didn’t he remember they were under her pillow? His mouth thinned out into a long, straight line. He turned away to pull down the covers of the bed. Then he was back to lift her into his arms and carry her to the sheeted mattress. He laid her down and drew the covers over her before moving away from the bed.

The click of the light switch threw the room into darkness. The door to the past slammed shut in her mind. Lanna was vividly aware of all that had happened that night as she was engulfed by a wave of panic.

“Hawk!” She called for the one unshakable force she knew, sitting up on her elbows to see his silhouette framed in the doorway to the living room.

“Yes?” He paused there.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” The words rushed from her in an urgent whisper.

He came back to stand beside the bed and look down at her pale face. His gaze took in her semi-prone figure and the sheet stretched across the thrusting round points of her breasts.

“Go to sleep,” he told her.

“I’m afraid,” Lanna admitted. And she defended her apprehensions with: “You don’t know what it’s like not to have anyone. I don’t want to be here alone.”

Her words seemed to freeze him into immobility for a split-second. Then the mattress sagged beneath the weight of his knee. “Move over,” Hawk ordered.

Lanna slid away from the edge of the bed as Hawk filled the space she vacated with his long, lean frame. His arm slipped under her to draw her to his side. She
shuddered in relief to have his solidness supporting her again. Her hand found his shirtfront, reassured by the steady rise and fall of his chest. She let her forehead rest against his cheek.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Lanna whispered, “but I feel so empty inside, and it’s frightening.” Her mouth formed the soft, trembling words against his skin.

His head moved on the pillow and his face turned to her. Her lips felt the firm outline of his mouth, the warmth of his breath flowing into hers. His hand made an experimental circle on her spine, sensitizing her flesh to his touch.

His free hand weaved its fingers into her hair and slowly applied pressure to make the contact with his mouth more exact. For long seconds, the kiss was no more than that, one pair of lips firmly pressed to another. Yet it carried a vital flame that melted Lanna’s stiffness. When his mouth moved in a slow exploration of her softening lips, she could respond.

From his hard vitality, she drew strength. His hands began to slowly caress her, awakening her flesh wherever they touched. Senses that had been used only to register the depth of her pain and grief became aroused to the life force beside her. They registered the brutish fragrance that clung to his hard jaw and the taste of his mouth, the salty tang of her tears coating it. Beneath fingers curling into his shirt was the increased tempo of his heartbeat. More slowly Lanna was becoming aware of his leanly muscled length, the sinewed columns of his long legs beneath the rough material of his pants, the hard, unyielding contours of his hips, the smoothly muscled brawn of his chest and shoulders—masculinity in its pure state, virilely powerful and arrogantly raw.

Bit by bit, she began to be filled by the force of his existence. It was easy to lose herself to the feelings he was creating within her. The shadows of fear were
chased away by the fires now being kindled. Sensation after sensation spilled through her: the touch of his hand on her hip, her stomach, cupping her breast while his mouth and teeth played with its point.

Then he was leaving her. She was alone in the bed, confused and adrift, aching with a fresh pain. Incomprehensible sounds came from nearby, drowned out by the erratic pounding in her ears. Despairing that it had all been a dream, Lanna felt herself sinking again into that empty black pit of pain.

“No.” Her cry was little more than a protesting moan.

But it brought results. The mattress shifted under the weight of another body. A second later, Lanna was feeling the same solidness and her hands reached for it. A hard, male form fitted itself to her shape. The searing passion of a man’s kiss lifted her from the depths and sent her soaring to dizzying heights. The act of procreation was, in itself, a promise of life’s cycle being renewed. For Lanna, it was a glimpse of horizons never before seen—glorious, golden raptures yet to be attained.

Their beauty carried her away on golden wings. When they set her down gently, she was too exhausted by the flight to know where she had been taken. She wanted to rest—only for a moment—and curled into the arms of sleep, without fear or dread for the dreams it might hold.

It was nearly dawn when Hawk untangled the sleeping female form from his arms and slipped out of bed. In the gray light filtering through the window, he studied the face etched with contentment and framed by a brown cascade of shining hair. He was tempted to reach out and touch the generous curve of her soft lips
while his body sought out the delights of her pliant flesh. Desire flickered to feel again the sensation of a wild wind lifting him high. Instead, Hawk drew the covers over her nakedness and gently tucked them around her shoulders. Then he reached for the clothes lying on the floor.

Lanna made the transition from sleep to wakefulness in slow stages. She was encased in such a warm, gentle glow that she was reluctant to throw aside the sensation, because she sensed there was something unpleasant waiting for her when she opened her eyes.

Bright sunlight had forced its way into the bedroom and was now glaring through her eyelids. She rolled away from it, wanting to go back to sleep and drift into the dream that had left her feeling so good. But the movement awakened a hammering in her head, a savage ache striking at her temples.

“Why did I have to drink so much champagne?” Lanna groaned and tossed aside the covers.

Like a body blow, it hit her. John was dead. She sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the sides as the painful memory of last night came flooding back in disjointed pieces, out of sequence, some of them hazy.

The haziest of all was just before she fell asleep. Turning her throbbing head carefully, Lanna glanced over her shoulder at the empty bed. Had she dreamed it? Had Hawk made love to her last night? She vaguely remembered asking him not to leave her alone. She was
most certain he had stayed, but had he actually gone to bed with her?

Why was her memory so sketchy, the happenings in the latter part of the night so obscure? She had consumed more than her share of champagne, but—Lanna remembered the aspirin, and later the whiskey Hawk had forced down her throat.

A chill crawled over her skin and made her shiver. Lanna suddenly realized she was nude. Why hadn’t her father put her pajamas on her last night when he’d undressed her for bed? No, that wasn’t her father. It was Hawk. Lanna remembered she had mixed them up last night, too. Maybe Hawk had made love to her. Why would she dream such a thing?

Why would she have let him? She wasn’t the type to sleep around. Or, maybe, had she been too drugged to resist him? Yet the thought was associated with pleasure, so obviously there hadn’t been any force involved. If she could only get rid of this dull throbbing in her head, she would be able to remember everything more clearly.

A knock echoed through her apartment. It took Lanna a second to realize that it wasn’t the pounding in her head growing worse. Someone was at the door. Probably Mrs. Morgan, she thought, and she cradled her forehead in the palm of her hand, willing her neighbor to go away. But the pounding grew more insistent.

Sliding a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, Lanna saw that it was nearly noon. Mrs. Morgan had probably gotten worried about her and wanted to be certain she was all right. If Lanna didn’t answer the door, her neighbor would probably summon the apartment manager to let her in.

Her chenille robe was at the foot of the bed, its
cranberry color a glaring contrast to the silver satinquilted bedspread. Lanna picked it up as she rose unsteadily to her feet. She had trouble finding the armholes, but she finally slipped the robe on. There was more knocking on the door.

“I’m coming,” she called wearily and tied the corded sash as she hurried from the bedroom. The knocking stopped. When she opened the door, it wasn’t Mrs. Morgan who was standing outside. Lanna stared at Chad Faulkner in startled recognition. His light brown eyes ran over her, lingering on the gaping front of her robe, then sweeping over the tousled disarray of her gleaming, dark brown hair. “Hello,” she managed to say finally. Self-consciously, she tried to push her hair into some kind of order. “I … I just woke up.”

“I was beginning to worry when you didn’t answer the door.” He was dressed in a dark suit, its somberness a marked change from the light sophistication of the vested suit he’d been wearing at the hospital. Lanna was moved again by his stunning looks. His half-smile was gently prompting. “May I come in?”

“Yes … yes, of course.” She stepped away from the door to admit him. Her hands moved to adjust her robe and try to look more presentable. “I … I’m sorry about your father.” She remembered to express her sympathy for his loss.

“Thank you.” His eyes were gentle with concern as they studied her pale features. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Probably as awful as I look.” Lanna tried to laugh, but the effort made her head pound.

“You are an unusually attractive woman, Lanna, even now,” Chad said. “But I expect you know that.”

Lanna felt a little too vulnerable to handle his compliments. Sexual desire had been absent from her life since she had broken up with her lover. After last
night when Hawk had made love to her—if he had made love to her—
it
was back. Chad Faulkner was just the type who could arouse it. Her gaze strayed to his left hand, bare of any kind of ring.

“Thank you for calling last night,” she offered, instead.

“May I fix you some coffee?” She took a backward step toward the kitchen.

“None for me, but fix yourself a cup, by all means. I must apologize for waking you up.” Chad smiled. “It didn’t occur to me that you might still be sleeping.”

“It was rather late last night.” As she entered the kitchen alcove, Lanna saw the bottle of whiskey and the empty glass sitting on the counter. Chad had followed her and noticed her gaze pause on the two.

“You had a rough time of it last night, didn’t you? I hope that made it easier,” he said, referring to the whiskey.

“It helped me forget,” she admitted, and made a lot of things that happened fuzzy in her mind, she thought to herself. “I guess Hawk knew that, which was probably why he poured it down my throat.” She lifted a brown tangle of hair away from an ear, then let it fall. “I was pretty well out of it when he left. I never did thank him for staying with me,” she realized, then remembered his action hadn’t been motivated by kindness. “Oh, I know why he stayed,” Lanna assured Chad as she added more water to the kettle. “And I understand why you didn’t want me calling the hospital, in case someone got the wrong idea.”

“That was only a very small part of it. I didn’t want you to be alone.” He stood close beside her, his expression earnest. His concern was vastly different from Hawk’s impersonal manner the night before. “I hope you accept that.”

The provocative fragrance of an expensive male
cologne wove its spell on Lanna’s senses. The intensity of his look made Lanna believe she was the only woman he cared about, a very heady thought. She couldn’t cope with so much charm and good looks all in one package.

“You are very kind to be so concerned about me, Mr. Faulkner.” There was a lump in her throat. She set the kettle on the burner, then forgot to turn the gas on beneath it. “At a time like this, I’m sure you have family, business, and half a dozen more important things demanding your attention.”

“I classify you as important, Lanna. And I’d like you to call me Chad. You were very close to my father these last few months. I hope that later on, you and I will become better acquainted.”

A stab of sweet pleasure shot through her. Maybe she wouldn’t be so lonely, after all. “I’d like that,” she agreed simply. Chad didn’t seem the type to make idle talk. She certainly hoped he meant it, and she was very relieved to know that he was single.