Seeing Stars (25 page)

"I've got a lot less control than I thought I had," he managed to say. "You'd better..."

She ducked under the water and emerged with both shoulder straps in place, then she swam the single stroke across the pool and came up right in front of him He bracketed her hips in his hands and growled, "You're a high-voltage woman."

"You, too," she said, her breathing no more steady than his.

"I'm a high voltage woman?"

"Man." Her smile grew from his. "You said you'd tell me about Tim."

"Not if you stay here where I can touch you. You'd think I'd get used to it, used to you, but all you have to do is look at me to drive every rational thought out of my head."

She was too warm from the water for him to know if his words made her flush, but he saw her eyes and growled, "You like that, don't you? Knowing you've turned my mind to mush."

"Yeah," she agreed, with that shy honesty he loved—though how a woman could be shy and blatantly seductive at the same time was more than he could figure out. Somehow, she managed it.

"Do you want me to tell you about Tim?" he asked, drawing her closer, between his parted legs, against his throbbing sex. "Or shall we get out of this pool and go somewhere I can make love to you until you forget... everything but me?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Yes, what?" He knew the answer, but wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes, you and me."

And that said it all, he thought as he took her hand and they stepped out of the hot pool together.
You and me... together. Forever.

Claire unlocked the door to her condo and stepped inside, heard Blake turn the lock. Then she turned back, into his arms, and he growled, "If I kiss you here, really kiss you, we'll end up making love right here, in the foyer."

She laughed breathlessly. She knew it was true and pulled away from him, holding out one hand, leading him up the stairs to the bedroom. She wondered if it was actually possible to become addicted to sex, wondered if that was what had happened to her over the past few days.

At the entrance to the bedroom, two feet from the king-size bed, he touched her and she turned to him, one hand already slipping the strap of her suit off her shoulder.

"I'm all wet," she said. "I should... we left our towels behind. I'll just—"

"Not yet." He frowned as he held her shoulders in his hands and stared down at her. "I want to tell you something."

"What?"

"It's the wrong time, but in a few minutes it'll be even more wrong, and I need you to know before this goes any farther."

Lydia, she thought with a lurch of nausea. Despite what he said, he loves Lydia, and now he's going to tell me.

"You don't need to tell me anything."

"Yes, I do." She saw him swallow, then he said, "I'm in love with you, Claire. I wanted to tell you in the pool, but I was staring at your beautiful breasts and I didn't want you to think it was just... but I don't think I can make love to you again without telling you, so you'd better know. Now."

She knew she should say something, but she stared at him so long, her mind empty of anything but panic, that he said her name, sharply.

"You didn't expect this? Are you in shock?"

"No... yes. I don't know. You can't really... it's only been a few days."

"Five days. I know it's too soon, but yes I can. Really."

She didn't know much about love, but she knew that there was only one right answer to give when a man told a woman he loved her, and she wanted to give it, but she couldn't, because she was terribly afraid he meant more than I love you right now, tonight, this week.

He touched her lips, stopping the words before she knew what they were.

"You don't have to say anything," he said gently. "I just needed you to know." Then he bent his head and kissed her, so gently, so
lovingly,
that she couldn't stop the tears welling up, closing off her throat and filling her eyes.

He lifted her and carried her to the bed, laid her on the spread so carefully, then slowly kissed her shoulders—first one, then the other, so softly there was no sex in the kiss at all. Then he drew the wet suit down and away from her body, his lips warming where the air chilled, softly, so softly, as if he were worshipping her body.

Even as her breath went short and her body arched under his touch, she knew she had to stop this. She'd lied to him, she'd
used
him, although it hadn't exactly seemed like that at the time. She'd had an urge, perhaps a biological urge, to be a mother. It had felt overwhelmingly strong, and he'd been there, loving her, and it had felt...

It had felt
right,
but it wasn't, hadn't been right, not when she'd lied to him. And if she let him make love to her now, knowing he loved her—or at least, that he thought he loved her—if she let him make love to her tonight, without telling him the truth first, she'd be doing the unforgivable.

"Blake..."

If he heard her, he made no sign. Instead, his mouth traced the curve of her elbow, the tender flesh inside her upper arm, then brushed the side of her breast, so gently she wasn't sure if the touch was real, or drawn into her imagination by her own needs.

"Blake," she whispered, so faintly the voice inside her urged her to be silent, to turn in his arms, to draw his mouth to the places that ached for his kiss.

He murmured something, his mouth tracing the indentation of her navel.

"You have to stop, Blake. Please."

His mouth paused in its journey, then he turned his head, resting his cheek against her belly, and she heard a long breath expel from his lungs.

"OK," he said, catching her outflung hand and lacing their fingers together. "What is it?"

She closed her eyes, feeling the pressure of his head on her belly, resting right there, where it was very likely that his child was already growing.

"We need to..." What? she thought wildly. We need to talk? To say exactly what? "That's not... your head on my stomach. It's not stopped enough."

He chuckled and rolled off her, lying on his back, still holding her hand, their fingers threaded together. Lying side by side, she thought, like two children staring up at the night sky, looking for patterns in the stars.

Except they weren't children, although she herself hadn't been behaving with much more forethought than a child.

"OK," he said a teasing rumble in his voice. "I'm listening. Really listening now." He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it as if to seal his assertion with a promise.

She simply didn't know how to say it, even
what
to say.

"Claire..."

He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down into her eyes, which made it even worse, because if she couldn't say whatever words needed saying when he wasn't looking at her, how could she now?

"Look, Claire, I wasn't trying to put pressure on you."

He brushed the damp strands of her hair back from one cheek and said, "Well, maybe I was, in a way, at least trying to make sure you didn't get away from me without knowing this isn't all. This week is only the beginning, Claire."

The beginning, and the end.

"Blake, a relationship is really impossible for me."

In the next room, the telephone rang.

"Ignore it," he said. "Claire, there isn't much that can't be worked out if two people want it enough."

"I have to..." She pushed herself up, away from him. "It's probably Jennifer on the phone. It'll be just a minute."

She fled out of the bedroom, realizing that she was naked, that she should have grabbed something because he'd follow her in a few seconds, and being naked wasn't going to help her stop what had to be stopped.

If he didn't follow her, she'd have to walk back into the bedroom naked, and he'd be waiting. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was wearing a pair of bathing trunks still, but that wasn't enough. The way things happened when they were together, they both needed coats of armor, or maybe a chastity belt would do the trick.

She grabbed the phone on its fourth ring.

"Claire? It is you, isn't it?" A woman's voice, breathless, on the edge of panic.

"Who's this?" It certainly wasn't Jennifer.

"Is Mac there? I've been calling everywhere and I can't find him, and Gary's away and the baby's coming and I can't think of anywhere else to try for Mac, so I phoned Lydia and asked where you were staying, and she got the registration forms and—"

"Blake's here, Grace. I'll get him."

He was already reaching for the receiver and she gave it to him, meaning to step back, away from him, to find clothes to cover her. But he snagged her hand and pulled her into the curve of his arm.

"Grace, what's up?"

She could hear his sister's half-hysterical voice.

"How far apart are your contractions?" The question sounded expert, and she wondered if this was the first time Grace had gone into labor with her husband away.

Blake said quietly, "OK, Gracie, just take a deep breath... Good, now I want you to call the doctor, then call a taxi. I'll be there in twenty... make that fifteen minutes. If you're not at home, I'll meet you at the hospital."

Grace must have protested because he said, "No, don't wait for me. I've got the bike, which isn't the right coach for you tonight, and I'm not going to waste an extra five minutes picking up the truck at my place. Now call the taxi, OK? Then call the doctor, and if there's time, while you're waiting you can try again to get through to Gary. And don't worry, honey, a few hours and you're going to have another beautiful baby."

Grace sounded calmer by the time he hung up.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have to go."

"I know." She touched his bare chest and forced a smile. "You left your clothes in the change room. You'd better get them or you'll catch cold in the wind from the bike."

He cursed, then laughed. "Right. Add another two minutes to my estimated time of arrival. Do you want to come?"

She shook her head. "Call me later, from the hospital."

"It could be late."

"I don't mind."

He gave her a quick hard kiss, then left her.

She continued to stare at the door long after she'd heard his bike engine cut through the quiet of the resort. She should have offered him the use of her Honda. Then he could have picked up Grace and driven her to the hospital, as his sister obviously wanted.

Much later, after she'd showered and pulled on a warm robe, she realized that if she'd given him her car, it would have meant she couldn't pack her bags and drive away in the night.

She was enough of a coward that she had her suitcase out before she realized that if she left, she'd be running out on not only Blake, but Jake and Tim as well. And while running might seem preferable to the alternative of confessing her sins to Blake, she knew she couldn't walk out on Jake, who had a court date next week, and who probably couldn't take one more act of abandonment without screwing up. As for Tim—well, she didn't know Tim's story, but she'd won respect from him and she didn't want to lose it.

So she was stuck here, and sometime between now and tomorrow morning, she'd better figure out what she was going to do about Blake. Before he kissed her again, or she kissed him, and she ended up compounding the lie she should never have told.

Hours later, Claire was sleeping on the sofa when the phone rang. The sound brought her to consciousness with a gasp and she jerked up, the blanket she'd tugged off the bed earlier tangled around her legs.

In the window, the sky showed pale blue with faint pink tinges. Morning, she realized, and she must have finally fallen asleep on the sofa. When she fought free of the blanket, she heard Blake's voice on the phone.

"You sound tired," she said, her own voice softening against her will. She'd meant to be brisk, friendly, to step back a bit because it would be easier to leave on Friday if she put some distance between them first. After all, how could she leave a man when he had his arms around her all the time?

"Yeah, I guess I am tired."

This wouldn't do. She mustn't sit here, perched by the phone, a sappy smile on her face just because it was Blake's voice on the telephone.

"How is she?" 

"She's good. They're good. Claire, have you ever seen a baby born?"

Her hand moved to cover her belly. "Just on television."

"It's amazing. Incredible. I was there."

Silence, as if they were sitting together without the need for words.

"Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever think about it?"

She drew her legs up, staring over her knees at a sunlit spot on the carpet. "Think about what?"

"Having a baby."

She swallowed a laugh, knowing it would be hysteria. She wasn't made for this kind of stress. She wanted to be home, where she could simply... simply
be,
without all these complications.

"Do you, Claire?"

"Jennifer has a baby. She's... I'm her godmother." She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds behind Blake. He'd called from the hospital. A pay phone, people walking by, Grace somewhere in the building, and her newborn infant. "I see Jenn's baby every day... hold her. Yes, I think about it."