Sharing Sunrise (11 page)

She shouted, “Then what is your problem?”

Oh, hell! Rolph wiped his forehead with the back of a hand. How could he tell her what his problem was when he didn’t fully understand it himself? “I want you,” he said in a strangled tone.

She looked young and bewildered and hurt and he hated himself for doing this to her. He saw her throat work as she swallowed before speaking. “I know,” she said quietly. Then, just as quietly, with a slight movement that could have been a shrug, “I want you too.”

Wham! Something slammed into his chest, so that when he said “Marian!” it came out all in pieces, jerky, as if her name had been yanked from him. Hearing her say those words so casually sent a grinding fire through his guts. How could she possibly know what she was saying? If she had the faintest inkling, she wouldn’t have told him that, not in such an off-hand manner, like saying she wanted a hamburger, or a drink of water. Clenching his fists so that he wouldn’t snatch her into his arms and show her what that phrase really meant, he said, “Dammit, you can’t just come right out and say something like that to a guy! It’s dangerous and stupid and not something a woman says just like that. If she says it at all, she does so in the throes of passion.”

“Maybe in the books you read,” she said, with another of those little half-shrugs. “But this isn’t fiction. I said it because I want you to know. I said it because it’s true.” Her voice wobbled and her chin quivered. She firmed both quickly. “I do want you. I want to go to bed with you. I want to make love with you. I want to feel all of you naked against all of me.” She laid one hand on his chest, fingers splayed, palm hot against his burning skin. He felt a tremor in it. She looked straight into his eyes. “I want to know what it’s like to have you inside me.”

Her words, accompanied by that gentle touch, nearly stopped the breath in his chest. He groaned, clenched his fists tighter. “Marian, don’t do this!”

“Why not? Like I said, it’s true. And it’s not as though you’re a stranger I met on a bus five minutes ago.” She let her hand trail off him, her fingertips tracking down toward the waistband of his shorts, and then leaving him, leaving him feeling branded. “It’s been building in me a long time, Rolph. I wasn’t going to tell you. I was just going to show you. But I tried to Friday night, only you weren’t looking.”

“I was … looking.” His words came slow and hoarse.

“Sure. Looking. Not touching. Not … taking.”

“I … no, not taking. I … can’t do that, Marian. I … You …” He broke off, shaking his head, moving a halting step back from her, another, another until he came up against the steep stairs leading to the deck.

Marian smiled at him then, a small, sad smile that got to him in a way even her bright, sassy, sexy smile never had. Was there any end to the ways this girl could affect him? Almost, he said to hell with scruples, to hell with not starting another affair with another completely incompatible woman, to hell with right-and-wrong, and went back to her. But she lifted a hand and spoke. “It’s all right, Rolph. We don’t need to talk about it now. I just wanted you to know, so you could think about it, think about me. About … us. It’s not safe, not having someone on watch here among the islands. Do you want me to take the tiller?”

He stared at her. Did he want her to take the tiller? He almost asked, what tiller, but remembered just in time that they were aboard
Sunrise VII
navigating through the narrow waterways between islands. Damn, but she had him rattled, and so hard he didn’t think he could walk to get the hell out of that cabin, but a glance out a porthole showed him steep green shores close to port. She was right; they were sailing in waters too confined for safely conducting an argument or discussion or a crazy, impossible seduction like this below decks, yet he stared at her for another few moments, wondering if there were words in his vocabulary to explain to her exactly what she made him feel. There were not. There weren’t even words in his vocabulary to explain to himself exactly what he felt, so he turned and went back to the cockpit. There, he sat at the tiller, keeping a watch all around while trying not to let his eyes wander to Marian’s upright, flame-haired figure, seated again at the galley table, turning the pages of a romance novel as if the world weren’t going as nuts for her as it was for him.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
Marian repeated the words to herself like a mantra, staring at the pages of the book, forcing herself to turn them at intervals, to give the appearance of reading. But the tears she fought stung and burned until she knew she couldn’t defeat them. Crawling into the berth in the bow, she rolled to her front and hugged a pillow, letting them ooze out but they brought no relief from the stinging and burning inside her.

She had done it again. She had flung herself at a man, told him how she felt about him, all but begged him for his love, and watched him turn and walk away. At least from Rolph she’d expected the sensitivity and compassion she hadn’t got from her ex-husband, not a blank-eyed, shocked stare, not a slow shaking of his head and those halting, awkward steps back before he turned and left her. Sure, she had told him to go, told him to take the time to think about what she’d said, but she’d seen in his eyes what he already left her, already done what thinking he’d needed to do. He didn’t require any time to consider what amounted to a proposition; he’d made up his mind.

Their dances, their closeness, the undeniable physical response so evident Friday night had been what he’d said, a result of ambiance and wine—at least on his part. Maybe he’d simply been rehearsing in case the real thing came his way.

Only, she hadn’t. The real thing for her was very much present in her life, whether her wanted to know about it or not. He’d been wrong in his assessment of what she felt that night, but that was fair, wasn’t it?

Obviously, she’d been wrong about what he felt.

And today? Those kisses out there where he now sat alone? What had that been about? That hadn’t been any kind of pretence, not on her part, and not on his. It had been real, and wonderful, and left her yearning for more. Yet, he had pushed her away. No. No, that wasn’t right. He had held her, stroked her with a trembling hand, until the freighter made itself known, and then pushed her away, but he’d done it gently, reluctantly, as if it hurt him to let her go.

Then, when he came into the cabin, what had he said? I want you. And it was true. She knew that, just as she knew that he hated the idea of wanting her. What she didn’t understand was why he hated it. And that was what hurt so much, not just that he’d walked away, but that he’d walked away still wanting her. It meant that there was something of far greater importance than what she might mean to him.

She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, and only vaguely aware of the sound of the anchor chain letting out, but when Rolph touched the back of her right knee with his fingertips, she was instantly, totally aware.

She rolled over and sat up. “Are we in Seattle already?”

“No.” His face was drawn and pale. “We aren’t going to Seattle.”

“Why?”

He touched her cheek with a finger, slowly, moving from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth, pausing there. “You’ve been crying.”

She blinked. “We’re not going to Seattle because I’ve been crying?”

He smiled slowly, acknowledging her weak joke. His caressing finger trailed down over her chin to the soft skin of her throat, then followed the loose neck of the T-shirt around to one side. There, he slid all his fingers just inside the ribbing, spreading his hand, curving it over her shoulder. “We aren’t going to Seattle because there’s something happening between us that we have to deal with before we can go anywhere at all. So we’re anchored in a sheltered little cove big enough for only one boat. Why were you crying?”

She wanted to shrug his hand off but it felt so warm and strong on her skin, so sensuously rough and male, she left it there. She thought of making something up about those having been tears of anger, but knew there was no point in trying to lie to Rolph. He knew her too well. He could see right into her soul. Especially now, especially after she’d opened her heart to him. So she told him the truth, as painful as it was, but she tried to sound amused, almost indifferent.

“Because I was stupid.” She smiled crookedly. “I hate being stupid. It makes me feel … stupid.” She glanced out the porthole rather than look at him, at the compassion in his eyes. What if it turned to pity? Dammit, she’d hate that as much as she disliked feeling like an idiot.

She changed the subject. “Judging by the huge Canadian flag flying over the house on that bluff over there, we’re not in Puget Sound.”

His other hand clamped onto her other shoulder, turning her to face him. “My,” he said, shaking her slightly. “How perceptive. I should have had you on deck to navigate.” He frowned. “What do you mean, you were stupid?”

She drew in a deep breath and shrugged. “Like you pointed out, a woman doesn’t just up and say something like that to a guy. Not unless she’s pretty sure he’s interested in more than a few casual kisses. I said it and you weren’t and I feel like a fool.”

He drew her hard against his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and rocked her back and forth for several moments, then thrust her back, still holding her, this time by the upper arms. “Dammit,” he said huskily, “you’re throwing guilt at me like mud! I didn’t say I didn’t want you. I said I did. Do.”

Tears stung her eyes but she refused to allow them out. Tilting her chin up, she said, “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m sorry you do. I don’t want you to. Yes, I know you said you want me, but still, you walked away.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. He closed his eyes briefly as his fingers tightened on her arms. “Right now, Marian,” he said, opening his eyes and staring into her eyes, his chin jutting with a stubborn streak she’d almost forgotten was characteristic of him, “right now, there is nothing I want more than I want you, just the way you said, naked, together, me inside you, you surrounding me, taking what I want to give you, giving what I want to take.” His voice shook with the intensity of his emotions. “I want you so bad I can’t think straight. I’m trying to be sensible, though, trying not to make a big mistake that will hurt not only us, but the people we care about, too, our families, who have been friends for years. What happens if you and I get together for a while and then blow it, baby? It would make their friendship, the joint celebrations we’ve always enjoyed, awkward, to say the least. What happens if this is as wrong as I fear it is? That’s why we have to talk it through, make sure what we both want is right for both of us.”

Her throat ached. She wanted so badly to believe that he really did want her, she didn’t think she could stand anymore of this analysis he seemed so intent on. She wanted him. He wanted her. So what was to talk about? Yet he still had that obdurate expression on his face, the one that told her the discussion would continue for as long as he needed it to.

Locking her hands around his wrists, she said, “Why shouldn’t it be right for both of us? What could possibly be wrong with it?”

“Different … goals, for one thing.” He drew her closer, lifted his hands—and hers, which still clung to his wrists—to her neck, threading his fingers into her curls. She slid her hands to his elbows, loving the feel of the bulky muscles, the rough, masculine hair on his arms. There was something undeniably sexy about Rolph McKenzie’s arms. And his ears. Probably his toes, too, but there was too much else to concentrate on right now. She’d think about all that later.

“I want a woman who is with me all the time, Marian. I want a permanent partnership. I told you that. A commitment, baby. House, yard, rosebushes, kids, the works, things you don’t want.”

She met his sober gaze. “But I do. I want that too. I know I’ve always said I didn’t, but I’ve changed, Rolph. When I said that, it was because I felt so shut out of my parents’ lives. They’ve always been so—connected. Together. I never felt there was room for me. So I learned to be independent. I thought it was best that way. Best for me. I didn’t want to have children who’d grow up the way I did, feeling lost and lonely and outside the magic circle. I thought it would be better not to grow up if that was what it meant I’d have to do.” She tried to smile, but only managed a crooked tilting of her mouth.

“Whether I liked it or not, though, I did grown up. And now I want things I never thought I’d want.”

He pulled her tightly against him, enfolding her in his arms. “Ah, sweetheart, yes, now you say you want that, you might even think it’s true, but what about six months from now? A year from now? Even five years from now? I don’t think that is what you want, not in the long term. Your track record tells me that no matter what you say now, you’re going to change your mind again. And likely again after that.”

She pushed herself free of his embrace. “My track record? In three weeks you expect me to have established a track record?”

“Not three weeks. Your whole life. Remember, I’ve known you, watched you and all your changes since your were three years old. And yes, you’ve grown up, but your basic character hasn’t changed, Marian. You’re still as capricious, as variable as the winds, with mercurial moods, fleeting thoughts and ideas that light your eyes or darken them. Sometimes you’re completely down-to-earth and other times you float like a random cloud. That’s such a large part of your charm, it’s what makes you an interesting, fascinating woman, and I’d hate to have you change. But it does not make you suitable for a guy who wants only to settle down. You’d be bored with a staid, sober businessman. You’d be desperately unhappy because you’re such a warm and sensitive person you wouldn’t want to hurt him—me—by leaving, but your history tells me that you would leave. You’d have to.”

“What? Why would I have to? And assuming you’re right, and I found, several years from now that I still wanted to travel, lots of people do. Couples travel together, they travel with their kids, they—”

“No,” he said, laying two fingers over her lips. “I’m not talking about vacations in Disneyland. Let me finish, okay, because I’m talking about a way of life, your way of life. Look at it, at the way it’s been, full of different scenes, different places and faces, different circumstances. I can’t see you giving up all that and being happy. Not forever. You’ve flitted from school to school, from job to job, from business to business.” He hesitated briefly. “A six-week marriage. Honey, you haven’t exactly proven yourself responsible. In fact, you’ve proven just the opposite, so for the two of us, I have to be the responsible one. I have to try to keep a cool head, to think things through before taking any irreversible—and irrational—steps. There always has to be one person in each relationship who does that.”