Touch the Stars (17 page)

Julie walked slowly to his door and stood gazing down at him. She tried not to look at the clothes spread out on the back of the couch–red shirt, pants, shoes.

Stephen drank in Julie's beauty like one too long deprived. It seemed that he never saw her away from the others these days. He'd missed her.

"Come in," he invited, patting the couch beside him. "We haven't talked in a long time."

She sat down beside him and pulled one of the couch's small pillows into her lap, holding it in front of her like a shield. She played with a loose piece of fringe, feeling oddly out of place. She'd never visited Stephen alone in his room before.

"Soon the crossing will be over," he said with satisfaction. "Then I will have more free time."

"I doubt it. You'll go back to training the others every day, won't you?"

"We have a lot to learn before September."

"You're not going to attempt a pyramid when you all go back on the wire, are you?" She hadn't wanted to ask, but she felt compelled to.

"We will do a five-person pyramid. But to do the wonderful nine-person Andrassy pyramid—it will be years before we can attempt it. We don't have enough people."

"But you will someday, is that it?"

"If Sam keeps up his work with us, and if Eric joins in, and if later Mickey and Tonia want to be a part of the act, then we will do the nine-person pyramid." His expression was calm.

"So Sam is hooked on the high wire," murmured Julie.

"He shows much talent, yes."

Julie sighed. "Really, Stephen, I must go to bed now. I'm very tired."

"I knew you would not approve of my plans," Stephen said slowly. "But I don't want to keep them from you."

"What difference does it make whether I know your plans or not?"

"It is important for you to know everything about me," he said in a low tone. "Everything."

Julie stiffened, not knowing how to take this.

"Just as important," he went on, "as it is for me to know everything about you. Don't you know why, Juliana? Haven't you guessed?"

She stared at him dumbly, afraid for both of them. Some words were best left unspoken.

"Juliana, I leave tomorrow to undertake a very dangerous mission. I'm confident that I will make a successful crossing of the Gorge, but I am never unaware of the dangers. It is best for you to know what is in my mind and in my heart."

"Not here—not now," she whispered.

"Ah, do you think my little room is not quite the romantic place?" His mouth quirked upward in a brief flash of humor.

"Well, I—"

"Believe me, Juliana, I would much prefer that we sit on the banks of the creek in the moonlight, as we did one other time. Or that we were dining by candlelight, just you and me. But there has been no opportunity for such frivolous things, and somehow I think it doesn't matter. We are both very practical in some ways, and romantic trappings would not make much difference."

Julie didn't know what to say. Stephen's talk of moonlit creek banks and candlelight dinners was unexpected, and at the moment those situations didn't seem at all romantic. What seemed romantic right now was that the two of them were entirely alone, face-to-face, that they were able to speak what was in their minds and in their hearts without preliminaries, and that, somehow, despite Stephen's obsession with the wire and her own aversion to it, they understood each other on a deeply human level.

"Many times I have thought of your face glowing up at me in the moonlight, or of making love to you—no, let me finish!"

Julie stirred restlessly, hugging the couch pillow even closer. His words seemed inappropriate, but were they? They were surely no more unseemly than her body's swift response to the yearning expression in his eyes. She longed to touch his face, to kiss his lips. Not touching him seemed like exquisite torture; she remembered so well that night in her car when they had stopped short of unchecked passion. She felt her cheeks grow hot with the memory.

"I
have
dreamed of making love to you, Juliana. Many, many times. But knowing how you feel about what I do for a living, I have been afraid to care for you too deeply. Yet I think you have stronger feelings for me than you let on."

He paused, wishing she would speak. Her luminous dark eyes refused to leave his face, and her lips were moist and slightly parted. She looked fearful and yet somehow relieved, and so he plunged on, groping for the right words. English was not his native language, but it was the only language Julie understood. He must say this right.

"You need not tell me your emotions, Juliana, if you don't wish. But I must tell you mine. Please believe me when I tell you that I love you."

Her rapid intake of breath interrupted him, and he gently took the couch pillow from her and let it fall to the floor. Then he reached out and pushed the door quietly shut and clasped her hands in his.

"I must add that loving is not something I do often," he said.

"I don't know why you're telling me this," breathed Julie.

"Because if anything happens to me, I would want you to know that Stephen Andrassy truly loved you. That is why."

In her mind's eye, Julie pictured Stephen setting out on the wire over the great Tallulah Gorge, sliding one foot forward, then the other, his balancing pole shifting carefully from side to side. He was concentrating mightily on the wire, an expression of intensity on his face, and it was so far until he would reach the other side, so very far.

"I can't bear it," she blurted out. "I can't stand to think about it!"

"About my love?" Stephen said, holding her hands fast. "So now I have made my great declaration and you cannot stand to think about it. Dearest Juliana, do you have any idea how that makes me feel?" He was teasing her.

"No, no, the Gorge! You treat it so lightly, as though it's nothing, but how do you think I'll feel when I know you're out there, suspended in space? Stephen, how can you put me through this?"

"It is the way I live. I'm made to walk the wire. It is all in a day's work, as you Americans would say." He grinned at her, but then he became serious once more. He remembered how he had felt in the aftermath of the tornado. He couldn't have borne it if anything had happened to Julie, and thus he could identify with the fear she felt right now.

"Don't do it, Stephen! Please! Call it off. Please?"

"There is no way I can do that," he said quietly. When she didn't reply, he drew a deep breath and continued.

"Juliana, I would like to think that someday there might be a chance for us to have a life together. This is why I have told you how I feel about you. Do you—do you think it would ever be possible for you to love me?" He held his breath, watching her face. Many expressions flitted across it in rapid succession—longing, sorrow, hope, affection. But he didn't find acceptance there.

"I don't think I could have a future with a man who walks the wire," murmured Julie, looking down at the floor.

He tipped a finger beneath her chin and forced her eyes to meet his.

"But you care, don't you? Admit it, Juliana! You love me as I love you, do you not?" His eyes cut into her like chips of blue glass.

Slowly she slipped her hands from his fierce grasp, and slowly she slid them up his chest, over his solid pectoral muscles, to his shoulders and the nape of his neck. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Stephen's expressive face was only inches from hers.

He stroked her hair reverently; his arms pulled her close until her body touched his. All her senses seemed enhanced, and a quiet exhilaration made her heart leap with happiness. He bent his head until their lips touched, and then she was clasping him to her as though she would never, ever let him go. Awareness of him flowed through her, awareness of his lean, strong muscles urging her closer and closer, of his lips, so warm and passionate, evoking a long-denied greed.

His kisses carried her to a place where she had never been before. Her pulse became the only sound, and the intensity of this moment pushed all other considerations from her mind. Repressed instincts flared, and long-forgotten responses surged through her. His arms tightened, crushing her to his chest. She heard his heartbeat and mistook it for her own.

Her body seemed inhabited by someone else, and yet it was more hers than ever because it had never been so sensitive to sensation before. And now that this body of hers seemed so real, so alive, she wanted nothing more than to give it away—to him.

His hands fumbled with the band holding her hair until it cascaded in all its splendor to make a flowing curtain over her face. Slowly he caressed it and drew it back as he wove his fingers through its sumptuous length.

"When I think of making love to you, it is with your hair down, like this," he whispered, his breath burning her cheek.

She took his other hand in hers and lifted it slowly until that hand, too, threaded through the heavy fall of her hair. He slowly wound the lustrous tresses in his hands, finally cupping his hands on either side of her head. He steadied her head for a moment and then, with delectable slowness, he brought his lips to hers.

Her mouth blossomed beneath his. One of his hands slowly came up to cup her breast. His lips slipped down and down, leaving her gasping, until his cheek rested against the gentle curve. An aching tightness curled in her abdomen as he pressed his lips to the soft peak, and she heard herself moan deep in her throat.

He unbuttoned her shirt until she was bare to his gaze, and his soft intake of breath at the sight of her made her weak with pleasure. She was small, too small to bother wearing a bra, but she saw in his eyes that he found her beautiful.

His fingertips traced the shape of her breasts, touching them gently, wonderingly. "You are so lovely," he said, and his voice was hoarse. "You are perfect, do you know that?" He lifted his eyes and raised one hand to touch her hair. "Your hair, dark as midnight, and your beautiful skin, and your lips, so full and well-fitted to mine. And your breasts, they are the perfect shape. I have never admired big-breasted women, Juliana. I like a woman to be softly rounded there, like you."

His dark lashes drifted closed as he touched his lips to one dark peak, and as his warm mouth engulfed her, she felt an intoxicating sense of power. Overwhelmed, she let her head fall forward and buried her face in his hair, inhaling the scent of him until she was nearly drunk with it.

She fell gracefully backward until she lay against the couch cushions, drawing him with her. His breathing came faster, grew more rapid, and she was gasping, too, arching under him, wanting to be free of her clothes. But he was too heavy, she couldn't reach the buttons, and she frantically tried to lift the shirt he wore over his head. She longed for him; she needed him. When he inserted space between their bodies, it came as a complete surprise.

In one fierce motion, his arms went around her and pressed her to him, and his breathing slowed against her neck.

"Stephen?" she murmured, not believing that he was calling a halt.

He drew her head down and kissed her lips. "This time we came so close," he whispered. "So very close."

Her breathing slowed, and she struggled with her emotions. Neither of them spoke, but they remained wrapped in each other's arms, letting the rhythm of their bodies slowly return to normal.

"Why did you want to stop?" she asked after a time, blinking back sudden stinging tears.

"I didn't," he said. "But I am not willing to put you through an emotional crisis for which you are not ready."

Julie struggled upright.

"I love you very much," he said, his eyes darkening. Now he watched her steadily, and his voice held a note of authority.

"Then why—?"

"I know you care for me. I see it in your eyes. No, do not turn away, look at me."

Julie forced herself to raise her eyelids. Stephen's expression was one of fervent hope.

"Someday you will be able to tell me that you love me. I love you enough to offer you a life with me. I want to marry you, Juliana."

The joy she had felt evaporated, leaving only a bitter residue of sadness.

"You know how I feel about what you do for a living," she said unhappily.

"Yes, I know. And I cannot spend my life making you unhappy. All I want to do is to make you happy, Juliana. If I cannot do that, I will not marry you."

"Dear God," she said helplessly. "What are you saying, Stephen?"

"That I can only marry you if you accept my life on the wire. It is the only life I know and the only one I want. I would like to share it with you."

"And tonight?"

"Tonight I wanted to make love to you, but it is harder to say goodbye to a lover than to a friend. I don't want to make it harder for you, Juliana, if your answer must be no." He smiled and raised a finger to brush a tear from her cheek, and then he kissed the place where it had been.

"Nonna always says a kiss makes it better," he said lightly.

"It would take a lot of kisses to fix this," Julie said, smiling wryly in spite of the ache in her heart. She didn't see how their love could be resolved satisfactorily for either of them.