Waking Up (6 page)

“I don’t care. As dirty as you and I have been on occasion, this is nothing.” His hands were at her naked back, and she felt his fingers slip down her ribs to her waist. Something tightened in her, an unfathomable response. She leaned back as he lifted his head, and she realized that he, too, was tense for some reason.

His light gray eyes flickered. Her own large brown orbs were plainly bewildered. He bent his head and pressed his well-shaped lips against hers briefly. It was a light kiss, full of affection and practically nothing else. She couldn’t think why a shiver ran down her spine, to weaken the backs of her knees. He was firm and controlled, very controlled, as he lifted his head and smiled easily down into her eyes. His arms loosened casually and she stepped back. Then he half-turned to take up his tea again, so easy, so utterly natural.

But when she turned back for her own glass, she was shaking, in a state of incomprehension, wondering what had been touched to life inside her at the feel of those cool, masculine lips. Wondering what he had felt, and why the tiny, betraying muscle in his jaw was ticking spasmodically under that calm façade.

She drank her tea and then winced. She’d taken far too big a gulp, and it hurt all the way down, exploding coolly into her stomach. “Would you like to come back over for supper, after you’ve changed?” she threw over her shoulder. Then she turned to look at him, trying to read his expression. There was nothing unusual in his countenance. “It isn’t much,” she felt bound to continue. “Just salad and sandwiches.”

“Anything would be great, if I didn’t have to make it,” he told her drily. Startled, she threw back her head and laughed at him. “Yes, I would, thanks. When should I be back? Will I have time for a quick shower?”

“Sure, we can start whenever you get over here. I have to take one, too, anyway,” she assured him.

With that, he left, after putting his glass in the sink. Though she knew she should get moving also, needing not only to shower but to prepare the supper she’d offered him, she didn’t stir for several long, thought-filled moments. She was trying to establish just what she had felt during those brief moments when Jason had held her. It was a great pity that she could come to no real conclusion.

When Robbie finally ducked into the shower cubicle, she had been indoors long enough to have cooled sufficiently to prevent her being unduly shocked by using lukewarm water. She washed her hair quickly and afterwards put it into a toweled turban while she dressed in a sleeveless white blouse with cherry-red dress shorts. The vibrancy of the colors brought out her tan nicely, attractive hues for the browns in her hair and eyes. Then she emphasized her facial features with makeup, though why she bothered when she was only going to be with Jason and her father, she didn’t know. Only then did she let her hair fall, already partially dry, and after brushing it vigorously so that it fell in soft bouncy waves to her shoulders, she ran down the stairs again, barefoot, and briskly set to work.

Herb had come home while she had been busy dressing in her room, and he had rapped on her door lightly to let her know of his arrival. He was soon downstairs in a casual change of clothes and looked over her shoulder enquiringly. “I’m starved,” he said, giving her a pat for a greeting. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, why don’t you set the table?” she told him, shifting her foot away as the toe of his shoe had caught her on the heel. “Jason’s coming over, so there’ll be three of us.”

Soon everything was ready, the chicken sandwiches made and nicely arranged on a central serving platter, with the lush, crispy salad nearby, drinks poured, and dressings set handily on the table. Jason rapped on the sliding glass door, and Herb let him in, while Robbie peered into the freezer to see if they still had any ice cream. The half-gallon box, present just the day before, was gone.

“Good grief!” she exclaimed in astonishment, as she slammed the small upper door closed. She turned to stare at her father, while Jason, unknown to her, eyed her legs with a somewhat secretive smile. “Have you eaten that entire box already?”

Herb looked sheepish. He was a tolerant man when it came to food and could eat with equanimity just about any dish she made, good or bad, but his two abiding passions were beer and ice cream. He could polish off a gallon box within a few days, though he was a bit more strict with his love for beer. He kept his figure trim only by vigorous walking during the week and long golf sessions on the weekends.

Robbie relented and flashed a quick smile to Jason, who was now clad in jeans and a short-sleeved, rugby-style shirt which matched the gray of his eyes. Her gaze bounced off his masculine figure self-consciously, as she mused that lately whenever she saw him, the solidity of his body struck her anew.

As the meal was already set out, they were sitting down to eat quickly enough, and while Robbie concentrated on listening and eating, the other two fell into a discussion about work.

“Well, it certainly looks as though you’re doing extremely well for yourself, my boy,” said Herb at last, as he leaned back and prepared to nurse his drink idly, his plate neatly clean. He repeated sagely. “Extremely well for yourself.”

Jason shrugged, broad shoulders rolling under his shirt. Robbie knew what those shoulders looked like, naked. Unseen by either man, her cheeks suddenly reddened vividly. She studied the scene outside the glass doors intently until the flush died away. “I’ve got a long way to go, yet,” Jason was saying easily.

“Mark my words, son. Some men get by, while others stand out,” her father told him, nodding at his own observation. Robbie almost smiled until she looked over to Jason and saw his serious, polite attentiveness. “Me, now, I just get by. Very well, though, I might add. This house is paid for, and my retirement is taken care of, but I just get by. You have what it takes to stand out.”

She agreed silently, but Jason was shaking his head with a slight frown. “I don’t know, Herb. What you are seeing in me right now might only be my youth and the energy that comes with it. I’ve been lucky so far, I haven’t had any accidents, haven’t had anything go wrong at all. But many potentially great people have something go wrong in their lives.”

He glanced at Robbie sitting quietly at her end of the table, and the look was nearly a caress. It warmed her to a tingling all over. She couldn’t remember how she used to feel about him anymore, but if she had felt this good by his positive regard, then it wasn’t surprising that she had missed it.

“Yes, but that shouldn’t keep one from trying,” her father was saying.

“No, of course not. But as someone has been teaching me lately, I find that if I can live just being the man I want to be, then I will be content with my life. As for any material or worldly success, I’ll accept what comes my way.”

“Sounds like you know a wise person,” commented Herb with a smile.

Jason grinned quickly and flicked Robbie a sideways, laughing glance. “You should know, since you’ve been living with her for the past twenty-two years.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her father looked at her in somewhat pleased appraisal, while she blinked several times rapidly.

“What are you talking about, I’ve never said any such thing to you!” she exclaimed with some heat, as she stood and began to clear away the dishes energetically.

Jason rose to help. “Sure you have. You just haven’t put it into those exact words,” he replied quietly. She felt odd, surprised, taken aback. “I went to college, and immediately got wrapped up in my career goals, the competition, grade point averages, yearly incomes. I got ambitious, Rob, and I studied hard for four years to get a good start on my working life. Then I came back here, plunged into the rat race, and found you, living serenely and taking your own sweet time about deciding what to do with yourself. It brought me back down to earth again, and showed me the things that really do matter.”

She scowled fiercely as she carried a load of dishes to the waiting machine. Neither of them realized when Herb quietly slipped away to find his evening newspaper. “Don’t make me out to be some kind of paragon,” she said, ostensibly irritable. “I don’t need that kind of pressure on me.”

“I’m not making you out to be a paragon,” he said quietly, putting his own handful down on the counter. He leaned his elbows on it, back curved, head turned to her as she squatted on her heels to stack things into the dishwasher. When she glanced up, she saw how the slanting evening sun lit the back of his head to gold and brown, while in shadow, his eyes gleamed palely. “What you’re doing isn’t even profound, though at times it can be. What you’re doing, Rob, is being sane while the world rushes crazily around you. You’ve taught me something, sweetheart. When I find myself going too fast, all I need to do is slow down.”

She ducked her head, and her hair, now quite dry, swung against her cheeks. “Sometimes I think I should have done differently,” she confessed quietly. “Here I am, twenty-two years old, I don’t know what I want in my near future, I don’t know where to go from here. Do you know, the people who went to college from my senior class have already graduated? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I should have been one of them, too.”

“You shouldn’t have been if you didn’t want to be in college,” he replied, touching her hair and tucking it behind her ear. With a great effort she managed not to flinch away in surprise. “Above all else, you should do what you want to do. Now, who was it who told me that?”

Despite herself, she began to smile. “I need somewhere to go from here,” she sighed. “I need some kind of goal.”

“Why don’t you take some classes?” he suggested, shifting his weight from one leg to another. “You were always excellent in math, weren’t you? And what of those drafting courses you took in high school?”

“1 thought about studying to become an architect once,” she told him dreamily, her fingers curving gently around the door of the dishwasher. She had finished stacking dishes for several minutes now and had only just realized it.

“Why don’t you?” he asked softly, his eyes running over her face time and time again.

Her expression abruptly closed, her eyes flashing downward, and she shut the machine door, then started the cycle. She stepped towards the sink quickly, wetted the dishcloth and went to the dining table to wipe it energetically.

“Rob. Roberta.” Her swiping motions stilled completely, and she turned her head to one side. Had she ever heard him call her anything but Rob before this? She doubted it. “Please don’t run away from this.” She didn’t move. “I’m not pressuring you.” That last was said with some defensiveness.

It softened her into turning back around to face him. She could hear what he was asking. He was asking her to confide in him, the way she used to. She put out her tongue, moistened her lips nervously, and found it easy to say after all. “I’m scared. I’ve never been to college. It’s been years since I’ve studied. I’ve fallen out of the habit. Maybe I wouldn’t do well, maybe I’m too old…”

“Good God!” he expostulated. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard you give about anything, and let me tell you, I’ve heard some bad ones.” Her expression was briefly stricken, and she bowed her head, abashed. He thrust away from the counter, which he had been leaning against after turning to watch her movements. Three quick, easy strides brought him right beside her, and he said gently, “I understand being scared, Rob. But you shouldn’t let it cripple you.”

Her forehead wrinkled in distress. It sounded easy from him, when his university days were behind him. “What if I didn’t do well?” she asked in a burst of uncertainty.

“You’re not alone in the world, you know,” said Jason wryly. Then as she stared at him, he offered with studied nonchalance, “I could always help you study.”

Her astonishment showed plainly in her face. “You wouldn’t want to do that,” she replied, in immediate rejection. Then, “Would you?”

He was gazing at her patiently, amusedly, affectionately. “Have you ever known me to offer something when I didn’t mean it?” he retorted laughingly, and she shook her head. “Well, then, what do you think?”

“I think,” she said slowly, with some wickedness through her appreciation, ‘that it’s one of the nicest propositions I’ve had in a long time.”

He winced at that. “I don’t think I’ll pry into that statement. Just think about it,” he advised. “Don’t close doors on yourself needlessly, do you hear?”

She threaded her arm through his to squeeze it against her side briefly. His brows rose quizzically as he looked down at her, though his eyes were warm and smiling. “You’re very good to me,” she told him quietly.

His face subtly lit with pleasure. “What else are friends for?” he replied lightly. She smiled as she withdrew to finish wiping the table, and then she carried the cloth to the sink to rinse it and spread it out to dry. She couldn’t have said why exactly, but his response left her feeling a bit flat. It was the strangest thing in the world. She should have been feeling great.

She didn’t see him for any length of time throughout the rest of the week. As soon as Thursday rolled around, the pace of her days picked up pleasantly so that Sunday arrived quickly and she had nothing to do for the whole day until she had to prepare herself for her date with Ian.

He had called yesterday morning to finalize plans, and they were going to a show, then out for coffee and dessert. It was a film she had already seen, but as it was very good and also quite hilarious, she didn’t bother telling him so. It would be fun to see the film again, and she always enjoyed Ian’s company.