Swept Away (42 page)

“I never saw baby birds in a nest, either,” she said softly. She’d never thought about that
before, but “I was sort of a rich kid. We weren’t really the outdoorsy types, other than
boating and the beach.”

“When I look at these guys, it makes me think about life.” He let out another rich laugh,
adding, “I don’t mean to sound like such a dork, by the way.”

“You don’t.” And upon realizing he still held her hand, after all this time, she squeezed it.

He met her gaze and she felt his look reach out inside her, like stretching fingers, touching her
breasts, her belly, lower. “What I think about is how each living thing has its own life, its own
unique experiences, and how short life is for some creatures and how long for others. But that
it’s all relative. And that no matter how you slice it, life is short. I think I’ve been worrying

about having regrets,” he said, finally releasing her hand, then turning to walk the few steps to the bench around the oak.

She followed, sitting next to him, but didn’t reply. God knew, she’d been thinking about
regrets, too, about wasted time, a wasted life—but she was somehow afraid to share that, afraid it might somehow make whatever might happen between them inevitable. Because she wanted
to kiss him so badly she could taste it on her lips. And at the same time, she feared she was
misreading him, the only one feeling this way.

“Being alone the last few months has made me think I’ve been too careful in life, if that
makes any sense. Like maybe if I’d been less cautious, I might have ended up in a better place.
I’ve wondered about opportunities missed, times I wanted to go for something but didn’t,
moments that will never come back to me.” He chuckled lowly again. “I sound ridiculously
morose, don’t I? How the hell did that happen?”

For some reason, Debra couldn’t quite meet his eyes, so her gaze stayed focused on a button
on his shirt. “I wonder about things like that, too, Michael.”

He took her hand again, and it surprised her enough that she raised her eyes to his without
quite planning it. “I’m really glad you came today, Debra. I enjoy being with you a lot.”

She just nodded. She enjoyed being with him, too. So much that it was almost painful.

So she was glad when he lightened the mood slightly. “I suppose I would be dreaming to think
you’d had a chance to start the book yet,” he said with a grin. Although he still held her hand.

“Actually, yes, you would be.” She laughed gently, reminding him, “Kat’s wedding. But you
have no idea how many times I’ve had to struggle to keep myself from picking up the
manuscript when I walk past it. It’s going to be my treat to myself once the wedding is over
and Kat’s off on her honeymoon. Bright and early Monday morning, I’m pouring a cup of
coffee and settling down in my favorite reading chair.”

“Ah, so that’s when I need to get nervous.”

She gave him a chiding glance. “Why on earth would you get nervous? You know I’m going to love it.”

“No, I don’t. A writer never knows.”

“Well, I know. I love everything you’ve written. I love everything...” She stopped herself—
but then, in a split-second decision, gave herself permission to just say it, even if it came out a
bit softer than she’d started. “Everything about you.”

She released a heavy, whooshing what-the-hell-did-I-just-do breath, her eyes dropping to the
wooden slats between them. Then let her eyes fall shut, wishing herself away from the
situation.

But then warm hands cupped her cheeks, raising her face. She opened her eyes to see the
yearning in his gaze just before his mouth covered hers.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been shocked, but she was. Utterly stunned. That it was really happening. She’d fantasized about it, even wanted it, even come here hoping for it—but
somehow, deep inside, she’d not really, truly expected it.

It was a large, engulfing kiss—nothing small or tentative—and for a split second, she tried to
kiss him back. She thought to herself—This is what you wished for, this is living, this is the opportunity you don’t want to pass up. But then the utter wrongness of it swept down through her like a black flood. She was married, for God’s sake.

She pressed her palms against his chest to push him away.

But he didn’t go, misread her touch perhaps, kept kissing her even though she wasn’t returning it. She pushed again, harder, and finally he backed off.

“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t.”

He simply looked at her for a long, slow, disappointed moment. “I thought you wanted...”

His hands had somehow come to rest on her shoulders, but she pushed to her feet and turned
her back to him. “I thought so, too. But I don’t.”

His arms came warm around her from behind, his voice low in her ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to...” He let out a sigh. “I just like you so much, Debra. You’re everything I could want
in a woman.”

The words sifted down through her, dreamlike. He was everything she could want in a man.

But one thing had just become startlingly clear. She could lecture herself all day on wanting to grab life and experience it, on wanting a man who appreciated and stimulated her—she could
promise herself she wasn’t going to miss any more opportunities. And this was probably the
most exciting, promising opportunity that would ever present itself to her. But if it felt wrong,
nothing else mattered.

And Michael’s lips on hers had felt like the most wrong thing she’d ever experienced, like
being kissed by a dark immorality she never wanted to flirt with again.

“I have to go,” she said, breaking free from his loose embrace and starting toward the deck.
“Debra, wait.”

He followed, but she walked faster.

“Let me apologize. Let me make it better somehow. I don’t want you to leave.”

Reaching the French doors that led inside, she stopped just long enough to look over her
shoulder. “No, Michael, I really have to go.” And she hoped he could see in her eyes all she
felt, including the wish that everything here was different, that it would somehow be easy to be together—but that, in reality, it would just be a whole new kind of torture.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. Then rushed inside, found her purse on the kitchen counter, and left through the front door as fast as her feet would carry her.

Hurrying to the car, she backed out of his driveway, then sped up the street and out of his
neighborhood. Only when she’d reached the main, retail-laden thoroughfare did she find
someplace to pull over, a car parts store.

Sliding the car into a parking space that faced the street, she threw it into park and watched the
traffic rushing past. All those people, hurrying someplace. How many were happy with their
lives, their decisions? How many had secrets? How many wanted more than they had? How
many cheated, betrayed?

She sucked in her breath, sad to think the answer would probably be a lot, more than she’d
want to believe.

But she wasn’t one of them.

She had a husband, she’d taken vows. And he was so hurtful, so neglectful, that sometimes
she wanted to kill him. But he was hers, and she knew he loved her. And she loved him, too—
a lot. And even if she spent every night from now until forever sitting in their big, luxurious
house all by herself, at least she wouldn’t feel any shame, have to keep any secrets. At least she’d still like herself.

Reaching to pull her cell phone from her purse, she dialed the gallery. Clark answered on the
second ring.

“Hey, I was just thinking about calling you.” “Really?”

“Kat’s plane is due around three, right?”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, still numb from what had just happened. “Um,
yeah. Three-ten.”

“I know Nina’s supposed to bring her home, but I was thinking about closing early and going
to pick her up at the airport. I thought maybe you’d want to come.”

“Uh, yeah, I’d like that.” Going with her husband to pick up her daughter. Being with her
family. Life as it was supposed to be. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Everything’s packed and ready to go, right?” Brock asked.

Kat lay in his arms in the hammock, trying to enjoy their last afternoon together, but he was
making it difficult. “For the fourth time, yes.”

“Nothing left in the house you need to take?” They’d hauled down a cooler, her weekend bag, and a sack of trash that needed to be carried back. The only thing to do before leaving was put the radio inside—which now sat perched in the sand nearby, still spewing out seventies hits—
and lock up the house.

“Yes, for God’s sake.”

She was trying not to feel miffed at him, especially given what he’d told her yesterday about
his family. She was still attempting to grasp what his childhood must have been like. She’d always assumed it was less than desirable, but she couldn’t have imagined the things he’d
shared with her.

Nor could she quite believe she’d told him the rest of the story about Ian and her dad, about the whole money thing. Maybe, just like loving Ian, she’d never quite let herself think through the situation clearly because she’d known she wouldn’t like what she saw. It shamed her to think
Brock thought she’d planned to marry for money—that so wasn’t her. Yet somehow she’d
made it sound like that was exactly what she’d been doing. She couldn’t help wondering if that
had anything to do with why he was suddenly acting so gruff.

“When do you think they’ll get here?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, wondering why they were even lying there together. He’d invited her to— or commanded it, actually, with a “Let’s go rest in the hammock”—but he didn’t exactly seem in a cuddling mood.

“Well, the flight from Vegas is due around threeish. Nina drove to the airport, so they’ll expect
her to drive me home, probably by four or five. When they don’t hear from me, they’ll call her.
Or actually, Nina might call them because she’s probably worried by now, since my cell’s been dead all week. At any rate, I’m sure Nina will come clean at this point and tell them where I am.” She let out a sigh. “I dread this.”

For the first time in a while, his voice softened a bit as he gazed down at her. “Dread what,
kitten?”

“All I have to deal with. All the explaining I have to do about why I’m here. And breaking
Ian’s heart. And canceling a colossal wedding.” She shook her head at her despair, well aware
she’d left out the thing she dreaded most. Leaving Brock. Leaving this time with him behind.

She knew in her heart they’d shared way more than sex—she’d slowly started to trust him,
she’d confided in him things she’d confided in no one else, and she honestly thought he felt
just as close to her. And the truth was, she’d sensed that bond growing so much the last day or so that she’d continued being tempted to tell him how she felt and to ask if he’d still be in her life after they left the island.