City Girl (19 page)

She trembled in his arms; then she stepped away and he knew he’d lost.

“Please don’t rush me on this, Kirk,” she begged, and hope rose again within him. It wasn’t total defeat, merely a postponement of victory. He studied her for several moments, hoping to discern what was inside her that made her hesitate, but it was as if she had pulled a shield down over her soul.

Finally, he nodded. “I’ll wait, sweetheart. For as long as you need me to. Just don’t stop loving me.”

“That,” she said, “I can promise.”

They exchanged a hard and desperate kiss, then Liss looked up at him. “I want you, Kirk. I want to make love with you tonight.”

“I know,” he said. “I want that, too, but . . . No, Liss. If I can wait for your answer, then I can wait for that. I love you, sweetheart. Good night.”

* * * *

She lay very still in her bed, listening to the house settling, to the wind rising to blow the clouds east over the mountains, to her own heart beating. Feeling it beat faster, she slipped out of bed and put on an impractical gossamer robe over her sheer, equally impractical nightgown, and admitted to herself why she had dug those particular garments out of the back of a drawer when she’d come upstairs. She’d hoped against all hope that Kirk would come to her, but he hadn’t.

There was only one thing to do. Mouth dry and palms wet, she quietly opened her door and stepped into the darkened corridor. No one person, she told herself, had the right to make all the decisions that affected two. And besides, maybe this would help allay her doubts. . . .

Silently she opened Kirk’s door and slipped inside. She closed it behind her without a sound, but he turned from the window, a dark figure  outlined against moonlight that created a halo of gold in his dark blond hair and glistened on his bare shoulders. Without speaking, she went to him, sliding one arm around his middle and resting her head on him. She touched his chest with her fingertips, stroking through the curly hair there, felt him tremble. His arms closed around her convulsively, crushing her to him, straining her closer as he drew in a long, harsh breath. “Ah, Liss,” he murmured, running his hand over her hair. “Why, love?”

She tilted her head back, wishing she could see him, but he was still nothing more than a dark shape with the moonlight slanting in over his shoulder. “Because I am sure about this,” she said. “I wish I could be as sure about the rest of it, but I know I need you, Kirk. I love you, and I’ll leave if you ask me to. I’m praying you won’t.”      

He cupped her face in his hands. “I could no more ask that of you than ask you to give up your children for me. That’s all I was concerned with—your fear that somehow, they could take your children from you, if you and I don’t play by all the rules.”

“Don’t be.” She ran her hands over his shoulders, marveling at how smooth his skin was in contrast to the hardness of his muscles. “My in-laws can’t see behind closed doors. And you-know-who can’t hear with her hearing aids out.”

He tangled his hand in her hair and turned her so the moonlight bathed her face. She stood on tiptoe, placed her lips against his throat, kissed him, and Kirk shuddered at the softness of her lips against him, the silken touch of her nightclothes on his body. “I want you naked,” he said.       

She touched his face with a gentle hand, loving  him so much, she hurt inside from the force of it. “I want to be naked.”

He turned his head quickly and kissed her fingers. “You taste good. Do you taste that good all over? I’m going to—” He didn’t finish, but groaned softly as he shoved her robe off her shoulders. He undid the three small buttons at the top of her nightgown and slid the narrow straps over her shoulders. It slithered over her breasts and glided down her arms, her belly, her hips, falling to the floor so slowly, the fabric was a sensuous caress that elicited a tremulous intake of breath from her. Turning her fully to the moonlight, he looked at her, his gaze sweeping over her, his fingers touching everywhere—outlining a cheekbone, teasing a nipple into rigidity, stroking over skin, touching, making stomach muscles flutter wildly. Her legs could scarcely support her by the time he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. “Ah, Liss, Liss, I need you now!”

“Yes,” she breathed, and accepted the weight of him on her, loved it, met it with a savage need of her own. Her nails raked his back gently, down over his waist and hips, then her palms shaped themselves to his buttocks as she strained to get nearer to him. “Hurry,” she pleaded. “Kirk, hurry . . .”

But he continued to excite her, tease her, evoking responses he’d known would be there, responses he sensed surprised her, even embarrassed her at times, especially when he switched on his reading light to see her better. She turned to hide her face from him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me. Show me what you feel.”

“I’ve never felt anything like this,” she said, keeping her face turned away. When he refrained from touching her until she complied, though, she opened her eyes. He exulted at their incandescent glow and smiled at their yearning shyness.

“I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” he whispered, continuing his gentle exploration of her body, worshiping her with his hands, his gaze, his mouth.

“Oh, please,” she cried softly. “I can’t take any more, Kirk.”

“Ah, you ask so sweetly,” he said, and moved over her as she writhed beneath him in wanton, voluptuous pleasure. He took her mouth even as she swung her legs around him, laced her hands over his back, and pulled him to her, joining their bodies at last in a wild and desperate surge of passion.

Completion carne almost at once in a thundering rush of blood and a quivering arching of muscle and spine, as two bodies blended in the ancient harmony of love. When it had spent itself, Kirk lay on his side, Liss cradled half on top of him, and he stroked his hand up and down the length of her torso. Slowly, their breathing became less labored, their heartbeats returned to normal, and they smiled into each other’s eyes. They kissed softly, nuzzled and cuddled, enjoying each other in the shining afterglow of their love.

When she felt she could lift a hand, Liss outlined his eyebrows with one finger and laughed softly. He kissed the tip of her nose. “What’s funny?”

“I feel as if we’ve just invented sex.”

He grinned and stretched. “Didn’t we?”

She nodded, looking up at him and shading her eyes against the glare of his bedside lamp. “I think so. We made a miracle.”

He shut the light off and made a mental note to put in a smaller bulb, a softer, more romantic one. He thought that from here on in, he’d be doing a lot less reading after he went to bed. “You’re the miracle,” he said. “Don’t go away, Liss. Oh, love, don’t ever go away!”

He pulled her close to him under the covers, then leaned up over her and looked at her fine profile outlined by moonlight. “I forgot to do it,” he said, tracing the curves of her cheekbone and chin. “After all that wondering, all that dreaming and anticipating, when it happened, I was too busy to look.”

“Look at what?”

“At what happens to your eyes when you climax.”

He saw her teeth gleam as she smiled. “I think I go blind.”

“No kidding?” He slowly drew his hand from her neck all the way down to her hip. “Shall we find out?”

Liss’s sigh was tremulous. “Why not?” she whispered. “We have so many things to find out about each other. . . .”

Chapter Nine

Two days before Christmas, in a flurry of snow and bags and laughter, Kirk’s mother arrived. She hugged him exuberantly, shed her outdoor clothing, heaping it into his arms, then turned to assess Liss. She was smiling, and her gray eyes, so like Kirk’s, were sharp and searching.

“How do you do?” Liss said, suddenly shy and afraid of what those searching eyes would see. She fought down a big dose of irrational panic, telling herself that Kirk’s mother could not tell simply by looking at her what she and Kirk did together while the household slept. After showing the older woman to her room and helping Kirk carry up the multitude of bags, she forced herself to make Betty, as Kirk’s mother insisted she be called, comfortable and at home in the living room. Then she tried to escape, murmuring something about dinner and Kirk wanting time alone with his mother.

“Hey, relax,” he said, laughing as he jumped to his feet and pinned her to his side. “You don’t need to run away.”

“I’m not, but—”

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t look so scared. Mom likes you, don’t you, Mom?”

“Of course I do. “ Betty winked at Liss, then lifted her son’s arm from around the younger woman and said sternly, “Behave. You’re embarrassing the girl.” She shoved him across the hall toward the kitchen. “Go play with your horse or something, and give us a chance to get to know each other.”

Liss cast an appealing glance at Kirk, who shrugged, grinned, and sauntered out.

When they were alone, Betty said, “I’m really delighted to meet you, you know. Any girl who can make my son beam the way you do has to be important to him. I never thought I’d see the day he’d succumb,” she added with a laugh. “I bet there are a dozen women in two provinces who’d kill to know how you did it.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “What is your secret?”

“I . . .       uh . . .”

“Oh, rats, now I’m embarrassing you,” Betty said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I tend to speak and then think. It’s a pretty new love affair, isn’t it?”

While Liss sought words with which to reply, Betty let her off the hook. “How about showing me around? Ambrose bought this place long after I was out of the picture, and I must confess to a certain amount of curiosity about what he provided for my successor. I understand he was married to your aunt?” She looked wistful for a moment. “I hope he was happy with her, though it was for a very short time, wasn’t it?”

Liss nodded, beginning to relax, and led the way into the playroom. “A little over a year. I was a young child at the time, so I don’t remember either of them. Ambrose kept no contact with my family after Aunt Cynthia died. I don’t think he liked my dad very much.”

Betty smiled as she turned in a circle, admiring the comfortable room, the decorated tree, the child-made garlands. “Ambrose liker few people,” she said. “He found it difficult to trust. I loved him, you know, and I felt very sorry for the things he missed in life.” She sat on the sofa and looked up at Liss. “That’s why I sent him my son. I think sons are important to men, maybe more than they are to us, though I love Kirk as much as I’m sure you love your sons.” She looked wistful again. “I never got over wanting a daughter. How about you? Wouldn’t a little girl-child be a total delight?”

Betty Allbright was a total delight, Liss decided. Before the afternoon was over, she had captivated Ryan and Jason by teaching them how to navigate on the tiny bear-paw snowshoes she’d brought as “pre-Christmas” presents. The next day, while the boys napped, she sent Kirk and Liss “outside to play” and baked gingerbread men for the tree, enlisting Mrs. Healey’s “experienced” hand at decorating them.

Liss stared in disbelief as Betty and Mrs. Healey hung the cookies from the tree, laughing and chatting like old friends, then nearly fainted when Mrs. Healey brushed Jason’s hair out of his eyes and asked if he was excited about hanging his stocking that night.

* * * *

It was, Liss thought, feeling limp and exhausted after it was all over, the most wonderful Christmas she’d ever experienced. She remembered especially the moment she opened her gift from Mrs. Healey and found a pair of bright pink knitted slippers with a small, handwritten note pinned to them. Her jaw had dropped, she knew, as her eyes instinctively sought Kirk’s. He sat stunned at her side, staring down at his enormous purple slippers, with drawstrings and tassels. Silently they exchanged notes, which were duplicates, word for word: For those cold trips across the hall at night.

They collapsed in laughter together, but refused to share the joke, though Betty threatened them with no turkey dinner. Finally, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Liss managed to look at Mrs. Healey.

The old lady sat staring coldly at her; then, so quickly it might never have been, she winked.

“I do love Christmas!” Liss whispered to Kirk. He smiled. “And I do love you!” He lifted his coffee mug and touched hers. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. The first of many we’ll share.”

* * * *

“What are you doing in here all alone?” Kirk asked the afternoon of the twenty-seventh as he entered the playroom. Liss sat curled on the couch, not reading, merely staring into the fire. Brooding, he thought as he shut the door. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You got the blues because the boys’ grandparents are coming tonight?”

She smiled faintly. “I guess so. Two weeks is a long time. I don’t want the kids to go, but I have no valid reason to stop them. Besides, they want to go. I’m being selfish. It’s only because I’ll miss them so much.”

He sat beside her and picked her up, cuddling her on his lap and nuzzling his face into the curve of her neck. “What if I promise you won’t have time to miss them?”

She smiled, her blues beginning to ease. “What do you have in mind?”

Without words, he showed her, kissing her until she was dizzy. She leaned back against the arm of the sofa, gazing up at him, her eyes warm with the luminous glow he loved to see.

“Kids asleep?” he asked, his breath ragged. She nodded, running a finger around his left ear. “And Mom and Mrs. H. won’t be back till four-thirty?” She nodded again, then put a hand behind his head and pulled him down to her. His desire escalated with such rapidity, Kirk was out of control before he knew it.

With a swift, economical motion, he stripped off her sweater, then his own. He undid her bra and bent to kiss her nipples, to draw them into his mouth.

“Oh, Lord, how I want you!” he moaned. “I’ve understood your reluctance to come to me while my mother’s here, Liss, but she’s not here now. We’re alone. Love me, baby. Love me now. . . .”

Liss spread her palms over his chest, feeling the heavy pounding of his heart. It had been too long for her too. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.” And she stretched out on the sofa, welcoming his weight as he lay half on top of her. He caressed her breasts and kissed her mouth, lifting his head only to whisper in her ear how much he had missed her and what he planned to do about it.