True Bliss (11 page)

It was all a jumble. Teenagers, adults, the old warm yearning and certainty they'd one day have it all, and now his longing that was a poignant thing wrapped up in heated desire.

Sebastian took in a big breath and got into the cab. He didn't trust himself to look at her. Neither of them spoke until he'd waited for a break in traffic on NE 8th and headed toward the lake.

"What happened that night? That day? When you left me? Just the day before everything was okay."

He barely stopped himself from braking. Of course she wanted to know. He'd been ready for her to ask, had thought about what he'd say.

"It's a fair question, isn't it?" she said.

"Maryan—"

"Your sister came and told me to go home. She told me . . . She told me you'd left Seattle with Crystal Moore."

"That was true."

"Yes. It was weeks before I could bring myself to believe it,

but I had to. Everyone I saw made a point of telling me how sorry they were."

"Shit."

"Mm. I didn't realize they knew about us, but they did."

He hadn't realized either. "How did they know?"

"You didn't tell them?"

Sebastian glanced at her. "Why would I, anymore than you?"

"Because it was all a joke."

He yanked the wheel and screeched to a halt at the side of the road. "A joke? You're going to have to spell that one out for me."

"We can't stop here."

"I can stop anywhere I damn well please."

Her hands went to her cheeks. "Don't shout. I will not talk to anyone who shouts at me."

Sebastian made fists on his thighs and said, "I'm sorry. I don't like shouting, either. But, Bliss? What do you mean, a joke?"

"I don't know. I thought. . . When other kids started laughing at me I decided you'd made a fool of me for some reason."

"Let me get this straight." Swiveling in his seat, Sebastian inclined his head to see her more clearly. "What we had was a joke. Is that what you're saying? I strung you along so I could make a fool of you with other people? Bliss, I'm the guy they hated, remember?"

"Maybe that's how you thought you'd get them to stop hating you. They hated me more, so you . . . Oh, drop it. We're too old for this now. I'd appreciate the ride home."

"What we had was as real to me as it was to you. I never doubted it was real to you. If I hadn't ... If things had gone right for once, we'd have been married. And we'd still be married. I'm more sure of that than anything else in my life."

"Please take me home."

"Not until you admit your theory's a load of crap."

"I hate it when you—"

"All right!" He held up his hands. "I'm sorry I swore, okay?

I went through hell after that night. It was no joke. Take it from me.

"I went through hell, too."

"And I'm sorry for that, my love."

"I'm not your love."

He dropped his head forward and crossed his arms tightly.

"I'm going to get out and walk," Bliss said.

Sebastian said, "Don't do that. 1*11 only follow you." He'd been naive to think she wouldn't want to know every little detail.

"You didn't just lead me on because someone else thought it would be funny?"

"No." The next breath pained him. "Maryan told you I had to leave."

"She told me you sent her to say you*d had to take Crystal away."

He had to be so careful what he said. It had to be the truth, but not too much of it. "That's what I told her to say."

"You'd been seeing me in the daytime, but we couldn't meet at night because of my parents."

"There's no way to change what happened."

"You were a red-blooded boy. Man. I was the daytime diversion. You got restless at night. That's more or less what Maryan told me."

Nice touch, Sis. "Did she?"

"I really want to go home."

"Okay." He faced the road again and schooled himself to drive off at a steady pace. "It wasn't the way Maryan made it sound. I wasn't running around at night."

"Crystal was pregnant."

Why had he thought, even for a second, that Bliss would somehow, by some miraculous means, not have heard that part of the story?

"Her father's a religious fanatic," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. "She seemed one way to all of us when she was in school. Sure of herself—snippy. She was a scared kid really.

At home she was threatened every day. If she ever brought what old man Moore called 'shame' on his household, she'd die."

Bliss made a small, distressed sound.

"They didn't know she was a cheerleader. Someone bought the uniform for her—don't ask me how that worked. But she used to keep her stuff at school and tell her folks she was working late on the newspaper. When the squad practiced—or there was a game."

"It's tough trying to live up to parents' rules and expectations," Bliss said, almost as if she didn't know she'd spoken at all. "Why is it so tough?"

Sebastian cut through quiet residential streets on his way to Hole Point, but he drove more slowly than necessary. "I don't think it has to be that way," he said. "If people didn't become parents accidentally, or just because they think it's what's expected of them, or for a load of other lousy reasons, then kids would have at least one certainty to build on."

Bliss turned toward him. "What would it be?"

"That they were wanted. Simply that. That they were wanted for themselves, and as extensions of their parents' love for each other."

When Bliss didn't answer he glanced at her. "What? What are you thinking?"

She'd leaned the side of her head against the rest and was staring at him. "We know a lot about each other, don't we?"

His grin was bitter in the gloom. "You could say that. We know a lot about where we came from. The type of people. What they expected of us. What we were supposed to provide for them."

"I didn't live up to my parents' expectations," Bliss said.

He laughed. "How can you say that? You're a fantastic woman. Fantastically accomplished and a wonderful person."

It was Bliss's turn to laugh—with no humor in that laugh. "Thank you. Isn't life weird? If we'd ended up together, I probably wouldn't have pursued an academic career and I guess I wouldn't have regretted it. Who knows what I'd have done. I do know it wouldn't have pleased my folks.

"But what I have done doesn't please them, either. I've never been what they wanted. Oh, forgive me, I'm sounding maudlin, and I hate that."

"You've got a right."

"No, I don't. I've got a good life. And your folks should be thrilled with you. Your dad wanted a son who would do all the things he thought he should have done himself and you've accomplished that."

"He's dead. They both are."

"Oh, I'm—"

"Don't say you're sorry. I wish I was, and that makes me feel as bad as I probably am. I made him pay for not being proud of me when I was growing up."

They reached the driveway to Hole Point sooner than he would have liked. "Just about there," he said.

"Thanks. I'll hop out here."

"Please don't, Bliss."

Lights showed in the kitchen windows of the lodge and, a little beyond the building, a lantern glowed on the wall outside the door of the closest cabin. Sebastian let out a slow breath and waited.

She cleared her throat. "What do you want? From me?"

How could she do anything else but wonder. "A chance. I want a chance with you." He killed the engine and turned to face her. "Another chance."

"Didn't you marry Crystal?"

"You really haven't made any attempt to find out about me, have you?"

The soft pressure of her fingers on his jaw shocked him. "Of course I have. I've read articles about you. I know all about Raptor and its ingenious founder. I've checked for any mention of you over the years. Do you believe me?"

He covered her hand on his face. "I don't know."

"I've got copies of them all."

Sebastian drew her palm over his mouth.

"There was never any mention of your private life—except

for the fact that you wouldn't discuss it and didn't grant personal interviews."

He closed his eyes and kissed her palm.

With her free hand, she touched his closed eyes. "Did you marry Crystal?"

"Yes," he murmured. "But we're divorced."

"And the baby?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"The poor child's one of those accidents you were talking about, right?"

"Past tense."

In the darkness, he felt her apprehension. Then she reached for him, framed his face and brought his brow to rest on hers. "Dead," she whispered. "I never even gave such a thing a thought. I'm sorry. We can be so selfish when we're unhappy."

His instant flare of joy was wrong, but he caught at it gladly. If she was unhappy it had to be because of him and she wouldn't be unhappy because of him if he didn't mean anything to her.

"You did the right thing," she told him. "You married Crystal because she was carrying your child. And because you wouldn't allow her to face whatever her father might do to her if you didn't."

"Bliss." Cautious, braced for her to flee at any second, he stroked her bare arms. "I don't expect everything to be perfect. Not immediately. Not ever, really. Perfect isn't something I've ever aspired too, just whatever success is. This time it's success with you."

"I don't understand. Success with me? You make me sound like a business venture."

He laughed shortly. "That's probably because business ventures are the only kind I've had any experience with lately. I mean I want to be successful with you. Not—no, not the way that sounds. I don't mean I'm trying to get you into bed." Oh, happy day—but one step at a time, and for all the right reasons.

When she didn't say anything, he looked at her. "What are you thinking?"

"I can't put it into words." In the almost-darkness her eyes were huge. "I... Dealing with this sort of thing is pretty much outside my experience now."

Her lips glistened a little, and her teeth. The risen moon sketched the curve of a high cheekbone and the line of her pointed chin.

"Now? Does that mean you've had a lurid past?"

"Oh, yes, very lurid. I was always a fast female."

He laughed, and she joined him. The slackened tension was a relief. The relief didn't last. "There isn't anything we can accomplish, Sebastian. Even if we really wanted something together, it's too late. You agree with that, don't you?"

"No."

She caught at one side of his collar and tugged lightly. "I'm not going to lead some vendetta against you. It's not my style."

"That's not why I'm here. I've told you the truth, Bliss. I want a chance for us to start over." But he hadn't said it, not that bluntly, until now.

Bliss's eyes met his slowly. "You've got to be joking. How could such a thing possibly happen. We don't know each other anymore."

"Don't we?"

"I ... I don't know you."

"Yes, you do. I'm the same person I was when you were ready to run away and marry me."

"How can you be?"

Not caring about the console that separated them, Sebastian leaned toward her. He pulled her closer, wrapped her in his arms, caught her hair in one hand and drew it together behind her neck. "Try me out. See if I'm not the same."

If he could see her more clearly, he knew she'd be blushing. She swallowed and he heard her throat click.

"Go on. Kiss me, my old friend. Take your time with this one. Remember where we were with kisses by the time we'd decided they weren't going to keep on being a whole meal for very long?"

"Sebastian," she said, a note of awkwardness in her voice. But she lowered her eyes and brought her lips to his. "This feels so strange. How can something feel strange and familiar at the same time?"

"Because it's familiar but you didn't expect it to happen, so it's strange."

"You always did have an explanation for everything." Her breath was sweet and warm on his lips.

Not the whole meal for very long. Well, they'd been the hors d'oevres of his experimental love, the entree of his blossoming love, and they'd ended up being a phantom dessert when he should have been having the real, whole enchilada.

Bliss kissed him. He let her set the pace, held himself in check when his drive blasted to full, pressing need. He could so easily let his mouth signal the message of his desire, his hands make the nature of his quest clear.

She kissed him gently, her lips barely parted. Gradually her arms encircled his neck and she absorbed his weight. And her mouth opened. As if she thought he might not be sure, she coaxed him with her tongue, pausing a second here, a second there, gathering purpose as he responded. The balance was delicate. He gauged her need to build confidence, to build trust. Push her, even the tiniest bit now, and he might frighten her into retreat.

Her breasts were an inflaming pressure against his chest. Still he kept his arms around her. This was not a wedding night, only a reprisal of their first passionate kisses. What had happened earlier that day didn't count—reflex action, nothing more, at least as far as Bliss was concerned.

The passage of her long, cool fingers from his face, to his neck, to his shoulders—inside his shirt, all but stopped his heart. His erection surged against his fly.

Sebastian centered his concentration on her mouth. This was her show. She must let him know when she was ready for him to respond in other ways.

The hair on his chest, the skin over his collarbones, the rock-

hard muscle of his shoulders beneath his shirt—she fingered each inch with tentative curiosity.

At last she drew a breath's distance away from him, her eyes still lowered.

"You're a great kisser," he murmured.

They both laughed.

"You were a very able student." And he was more than ready to turn her into a graduate student—with him. He'd already steeled himself not to think about the other men who must have gone past the kissing stage with her, the first man to make love to her.

That man should have been him. "I'd like to start over. I know you've said that's ridiculous, but you can't say the feelings aren't there."

"I can't say that, no."

He dared to hope. "I don't care how long it takes to get back what we had." Now he was lying. "Yes, I do care. I'd love to take you home to bed right now."

"Sebastian, don't."

"No. I'm just being honest." Brushing his fingers from her arm to the soft rise of her breast was the most natural move in the world.

She didn't stop him.

Sebastian flattened his hand over her breast, surrounded it through the dress.

Bliss breathed in sharply and her back arched. She felt it too, the pent-up sexual need. Her nipple hardened beneath his palm.

The pressure inside his jeans took his breath away. Almost savagely, he buried his face in her neck and hugged her again. This time there would be no wrong moves.

"You're going to give us another chance, aren't you?" he said against her soft, sweet-smelling skin.

He held his breath in the silence.

"What will that mean?" she asked.

So careful. And he couldn't blame her. "It'll mean we decide to go forward together. As slowly as you want."

"You mean we start all over."

He couldn't make himself laugh. "I don't think it'll be quite like that. We're not exactly the same people we were the first time. But I mean we decide we have something together that we want. And we go after it. And this time no one gets in the way."

She made circles on his chest, on top of his shirt. With each circle, she passed over a nipple. He resisted the urge to start undressing her. Clearly she was preoccupied and didn't know how aroused he was. "I need to think about it," she said.

God. "I won't rush you." But I'm dying right now.

Inclining her head, she studied him, or what little she must be able to see of him. And the circling finger descended over his ribs, his hip, to his leg. She looked down and watched the languid smoothing of her own fingertips on his thigh.

Control. Control was everything now.

"You are too ... too everything, Sebastian. You were so stunning when we first met. I couldn't believe you'd want to even look at me. Now you're ... Well"—she shook her head—"you just are, that's all." Spreading her fingers, she gripped the heavy muscle on top of his thigh. "Your legs always fascinated me."

If she'd kicked his gut it wouldn't have contracted with more force. "Your legs always fascinated me," he told her. But if he actually touched them it would be all over.

"I'd better get inside. The twins and Bobby will be in their bungalow by now, but I need to sleep." She chuckled a little. "Or to try to sleep."

With supreme effort, Sebastian drew himself up. He straightened in his seat and turned on the dome light. "I'm going to write down my phone numbers for you."

"Why?"

"Just because"—he looked at her, at her swollen mouth and glittering eyes—"because I want to know you can reach me if the urge moves you. And I want you to set the pace, my love. You call me, okay? Call me anytime—day or night—and I'll come for you."

He took out his wallet and pulled out a card with his Bellevue

business number on it. He turned the card over and found a pen to write down his Medina number. Snapping the wallet shut, he handed her the card.

When he offered it to her, she hesitated, grew rigid.

Sebastian frowned. "What is it?" She didn't take the card, so he put it into her hand and closed her fingers. "Bliss? What's the matter?"

"Nothing." With a sudden flurry, she threw open the door and jumped out.

"Bliss!" He shot from his seat and started to follow her. "Bliss, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her voice broke and she coughed. "Nothing. I don't know what came over me. Forget it, okay? Just forget it."

She ran toward the gate, opened it and immediately closed it behind her.

Sebastian walked rapidly after her.

Bliss swung back. "Good night. Thanks for the lift home."

"Bliss?"

"Don't follow me. Forget me. I'm no threat to you."

Stunned, he watched her hurry away in the direction of the lodge. Something had happened. In that instant when he'd given her his card, something had changed.

He took another step toward the gate. Forget her? She was no threat to him?

"Fine," he said through his teeth. "Oh, just absolutely, goddamn terrific. I give up. Have it your way."

Seven

In full flight, with the sound of Sebastian's roaring engine at her back, Bliss fell, panting, against the front door to the lodge. She felt for the crack between logs in the wall, found the key, and let herself in.