Pictures of You (9 page)

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Authors: Barbara Delinsky

BOOK: Pictures of You
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Paul and Tom were quick to help her, and the three of them had everything cleaned in no time. Meanwhile, Roberto and the two Frenchmen sorted out bedrolls from the rest of the supplies.
Eva was still bristling from Roberto's put-down when the last of the utensils had been stowed away for the night. Paul, particularly aware of her annoyance, tried to coax her into a better mood.
“Come and sit with us awhile, Eva. It's still early. I'd like to hear more about your work.”
But Eva doubted she would be fit company for anyone in her agitated state, overreaction that she knew it was. “Thanks, Paul. You're a sweetheart. But I think I'd like a little time to myself,” she gently refused, needing time to cool off.
Turning, she slowly wandered toward the edge of the clearing, padding carefully, barefooted as she was. She paused at a secluded corner, hidden from the rest by low shrubbery and the rocky bulge of the mountainside, where she sat down cross-legged to stare out at the skyline. The moon had risen and cast its silvery glow over the landscape. From the vantage point of her private niche, she could see for miles, the craggy mountains and furrowed valleys below her such a contrasting sight to the view from her New York town house. Funny, she thought, there's not a soul out there
in the mountains, yet I don't feel any of the loneliness I feel in New York looking out over millions of people! There was a certain peacefulness, a oneness with nature which now eased her muscles as no Jacuzzi could. She felt the tension gradually flowing from her body out over the valleys, to be swallowed up forever beyond the farthest mountain top.
Entranced by the vista, Eva was oblivious to all sounds around her. She jumped in surprise at the hand that lay on her shoulder, reflexively jerking her body away from its grasp. Instantly she recognized her companion, no longer needing to see his face to know of his presence. Her senses had memorized his very smell, so fresh and masculine and heady. There was a moment's hesitation before Roberto's voice, low and gruff, shattered the silence.
“Let me see your finger,” he ordered, grabbing the forefinger of her right hand before she understood what he was doing.
“Ouch … watch it!” she exclaimed, his hand having grazed the very spot she had burned earlier. He had taken a small tube from his shirt pocket and was proceeding to spread, none too gently for Eva's comfort, a salve on the burn which, though small, had begun to blister.
“I didn't think you'd noticed,” Eva shot at him sarcastically, even as the soothing effect of the salve had begun to ease the sting.
“I don't miss too much.” His eyes didn't stray from hers, the implication of his tone notwithstanding. “Here … you'll need these for tomorrow. You can't very well hike barefoot over the hills. And, as I said once before, I won't have any lame animals along.” Reaching again into the pocket of his shirt, he drew out several Band-Aids, obviously intended for her raw heels.
By this time Eva's humiliation had nowhere to go.
Once again he was right. As much as she would have liked to turn down his smug gesture of help, she knew she would need the bandages if she ever hoped to put her sneakers on. Betrayed by her feet, she burst out in a spontaneous eruption of laughter at the ludicrous predicament.
“I'm glad to see your humor has returned. I thought for a while, there, that we'd seen the last of it! It becomes you.” He stated it as a fact, but there was a gentleness in his voice.
“If you like it so much, why do you constantly provoke me? You do, you know.” She stated her own fact, calmly.
“I didn't say I like it. I merely said it becomes you. There is a difference. And if I provoke you it's because you are oversensitive. I enjoy your outbursts of anger. They also become you, in their own way.” Roberto's gentle tone was causing flutters within her, even as his words angered her.
“So you enjoy annoying me!” she retorted. “What kind of perverted mind can do that? You must be a sadist. You humiliate me, hurt me, tease me, infuriate me … and love every minute of it! What does make you tick? I'm at a total loss to figure you out!”
His expression softened, pleased to hear her admit to a weakness. “Well, I'm glad to see there's something you're at a loss to do. You are pretty self-sufficient, I have to admit. What makes
you
tick, Mrs. Jordenson?”
“Uh-uh. I asked you first.” Eva was not about to be put off when she was so close to a real discovery. “You must have a very low opinion of women.”
“To the contrary. I have the utmost respect for some women.”
“Then you must despise American women.” She pursued the point, eager to pin him down somehow.
“Not at all. My mother is an American woman.” He
was evading her questions, and Eva knew she would have to be more specific.
“Your mother doesn't count. Are you married?” She dove in headfirst, not sure whether she would hit bottom or rise to the surface.
“No,” he replied bluntly. “Do I seem like the marrying type?”
“No. Ah, yes! I would have guessed that you weren't married but that you would like to be and to have a family.” Eva was talking freely now, saying things which at another time she might not have ventured to say. But Roberto's seemingly relaxed mood gave her courage.
An enigmatic smile curled at the corners of his mouth, a mixture of sadness and frustration. “You know all the answers, don't you? How did you reach that conclusion?”
“The way you look at Paul and talk about him. It's something special, isn't it? I don't have any brothers or sisters, but I would have liked to feel about one the way you seem to feel about Paul And I imagine that feeling would be magnified with your own children. I know …” she broke off, having unconsciously broached a subject she didn't want to discuss.
Roberto, as was becoming his way, immediately picked up on it. “You know, what?” He paused, his eyes registering surprise at a completely new thought. “Do you have any children, Eva?”
Eva's gaze had returned to the distant mountains, though her mind's eye saw the skyscrapers of the city. She answered softly, sadness overhanging her words. “No. I don't have any children. I was … pregnant once … but I lost the baby.”
There was silence for several moments until Roberto genuinely touched by her sadness, broke it. “It must have been very painful for you?” he asked, urging
her to talk of the experience for the cathartic value of airing it.
“It was. Very painful. I never talk of it. I never think of it.” The factuality in Eva's voice wouldn't hide completely the suffering she felt at the reminder of this very personal tragedy. Why it flowed to the surface now, after months and months of total denial, Eva didn't know. Some force, powerful and intimate, though silent, gently coaxed her on.
“Soon after Stu and I married, I discovered I was pregnant. Stu didn't want the baby; it wouldn't fit in with his life-style. I did want the child. I had no family and desperately wanted some blood tie.” Her eyes hadn't strayed from the mountains. Quickly she continued. “I loved being pregnant. Such a beautiful, natural feeling, as though I was doing what my body was meant to do, pure and simple.” Here she did venture to smile at Roberto, shyly, suddenly embarrassed by her confession but knowing she was helpless to halt it. His expression was somber, frightening her into a hasty summing up.
“At any rate, I lost the baby at four months. Not very long. But I'll always remember that feeling …” Her voice trailed off toward the mountains she faced. Taking a deep breath, she added, “I can imagine the intensity of love you'll feel for your children someday.”
Again, a silence. Then his soothing voice probed further. “Certainly you'll have other children someday?”
Bitterness tinged her brief laugh as she scolded, “I'm a widow, remember? You keep reminding me of that fact. And as such it would be difficult for me to have any children. Am I right? Contrary to your belief, I am neither in the market for a husband nor a father for any potential children.”
Roberto seemed momentarily lost in his own reveries. “You'd make a good mother … although I pity
the poor husband you snag someday,” he teased once more.
“Fortunately that's none of your affair. Anyway, marriage is the last thing that is on my mind. My husband is not yet dead a month! You must think me some flighty fortune hunter!” Eva exploded, half in reaction to his words and half in regret at the loss of the moment of tenderness he had shown.
“Take it easy! Take it easy!” he crooned softly. “You're very touchy tonight. It must be the hard day you've had,” he added, smirking in the moonlight.
Eva would not be placated. “If I've had a hard day, it's mostly your fault. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll turn in.” She had let him provoke her again, she realized, as she stood up in a huff and whirled around to return to the fire.
“Acch …” a groan escaped, involuntarily, as Eva felt a muscle spasm at the sudden movement.
“Here, let me help you,” Roberto ordered, firmly grabbing her arm and returning her to her position overlooking the outstretched valley. Before she could protest, his hands had begun a gentle massage of her aching shoulders, the instantaneous comfort silencing any argument she might have made.
“Relax,” he commanded softly, his hands continuing to knead her battered muscles. Whether it was the stroking motion of his hands or the mere physical closeness of him, Eva let herself unwind, dropping her chin onto her chest with a sigh of pleasure. Gently his hands moved to her arms, caressing her smooth skin below the sleeve of her T-shirt. She couldn't even object when they slipped inside the neckline of her shirt to rub the bare skin of her lower neck and shoulders. She stood, eyes closed, head down, hypnotized by his touch, tingling under his fingertips. She was not aware when the fine line was crossed between physical therapy and
seduction, but she didn't fight him when he raised his hand to her long curls, lifting them enough to allow his lips to play on the back of her neck. She swayed, then moaned aloud, this time of a more erotic pleasure, as he drew her slim body back against the masculine contours of his. Her head fell back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her midriff. It was as though she floated in a never-never land of ecstasy, losing all touch with reality. Her own compelling need made her turn around to face him, her arms slowly creeping up his chest, reveling in the firmness of his taut muscles.
Her eyes were frozen on his lips, as his were on hers. It was a sensuous exchange, so near yet not touching. His hands explored the hollows of her back, the line of her spine, the curve of her hips, as he pressed her arching body firmly against his. Eva felt his male need, in turn igniting a treacherous sensation in the pit of her stomach. No longer able to keep any distance, she parted her lips and raised herself to meet his in a kiss of frenzied passion and overwhelming need. His demanding lips caressed hers, his tongue probing the recesses of her mouth.
Her trembling limbs clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, locking herself into his embrace. It was a short distance for him to reach to her knees and sweep her, weightless, into his arms, without the slightest disruption of their passion-devouring kiss.
Eva moaned softly as he lay her down on a grassy spot against the rocky wall nearby. “Your muscles?” he asked, fearing that he had hurt her.
“No, yours,” she murmured breathlessly. “What is it you do to me?” she pleaded, burying her hands in his thick hair and drawing his face down to hers in renewed embrace. His body moved to partially cover hers, his hands beginning a lust-arousing exploration
of her flesh. Her T-shirt was no barrier as his fingers delved beneath to touch the bare skin of her midriff, sending flames of excitement through her as a prelude to the greater ardor as they moved up to circle the swell of her breast.
Eva had never known the height of passion to which his spell now drew her, rising higher and higher with each caress, each soul-reaching kiss, Her nostrils gloried in his smell, her hands in the feel of his strong flesh beneath her searching palms. She savored the taste of his lips, smoldering against hers, his tongue seeking out hers. Desire consumed her as her fingers, in trembling haste, unbuttoned his shirt to romp amid the luxuriant blanket on his chest.
His lips left hers to nibble at her ear lobe, her chin, then sear a path down her neck and shoulders to the graceful cleavage between her breasts. Any second thoughts she might have had vanished as he gently eased the scooped neck of her T-shirt aside, followed by the lacy cup of her bra, to expose her cream-colored breast. Explosive currents raced through her as his tongue explored their rosy peaks, firming instantly under his touch. Mercifully, at the moment when she would have cried out in delight, his lips recaptured hers, becoming more demanding as was his own need.
“Oh, my God, I want you so much.” The soft whisper had escaped Eva's lips, even as Roberto kissed them into silence.
“Eva? … Eva?” Her name filtered through the aura of passion. Roberto's body stiffened as she realized that the lips so close to hers had made no sound. Paul! Looking for her! She tensed in turn, totally immobilized by the shock of the interruption.

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