Part 11 (1/2)
”You heard me.”
Yes, she'd heard him, and before she could give him a mature, sane response, her stomach knotted and she went allover cold at the sudden, painful memories his question evoked.
”Now, don't go taking that the wrong way,” he said when she stiffened in his arms.
”How should I take it?” she asked on a brittle note.
”Plain and simple. A point of fact.” Locking her to him with one unyielding arm, his other hand lifted her face upward until she was forced to meet his gaze. ”I wasn't insulting the way you kiss. You know d.a.m.ned well what that kiss did to me, and if it makes you feel any better, I haven't been that close to coming with my clothes on since I was, maybe, fourteen.”
Well, if she hadn't been pink with embarra.s.sment before, she surely was now. Trying to look away, she murmured, ”I'm sorry. I'm not reacting very well.”
”Honey, if you were reacting any better, I'd be the one apologizing and feeling embarra.s.sed as h.e.l.l.” His hand smoothed down the length of her hair to rest at the small of her back. ”Katie, it's all right. I'd say we're both pretty strung out. But I would like an answer to my question”-his arm tightened when she started to pull away-”because I think the chances of my kissing you again are about a hundred percent.”
She hesitated.
”And I think the chances are good,” he continued, ”that, sooner or later, we're going to finish what we just started. And I've got to tell you, my experience with virgins is pretty limited. Like zero. So I guess you' d better tell me what I've got to know, so I don't get my signals crossed again.”
Her voice was barely audible. ”You didn't get any signals crossed.”
”You said I was going too fast for you.”
”I was going to fast for me, too.” And because he'd been honest with her, she added, ”You weren't the only one who . . . came close.”
”I guessed that,” he murmured, his lips buried in her hair. ”But you acted like it was an awful big surprise. So, are you or aren't you?”
She shook her head, and her eyes closed briefly as she steeled herself to say, ”No, Sam, I'm not a virgin. But it's been . . . a long time and . . . and it didn't end very well.”
”How long is 'a long time'?”
”Six years.”
A moment pa.s.sed, then he growled, ”He must have been a real sonofab.i.t.c.h if you still can't talk about him without s.h.i.+vering.”
It wasn't so much that, she thought, as it was that, in six years, she'd never talked about Rick Sommers, not to anyone. Not because she wouldn't have liked to but because there was no one to tell who wouldn't have been horrified or deeply disappointed in her. And so, rather than disillusion any of those she loved, she'd allowed the feelings to become frozen inside her, along with the story of how they'd gotten there. For every day she'd had to live with the devastating consequences of her one disastrous attempt to find love and intimacy with a man, a new layer of pain had been added to the wall encasing her heart.
Yet the knowing look in Sam's eyes told her that he'd found the crack in her armor.
”I'm sorry he hurt you, Katie.”
She lowered her gaze, and this time when she pulled away, he let her go. She didn't go far, though- only a couple of steps.
With her back to him, she managed to say, ”He didn't hurt me so much as I let myself be hurt. But for pity's sake, it happened years ago, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who cry over split milk. I think you're right. I'm just a little strung out.”
When she turned to look at him, it was immediately obvious that he didn't believe her. She didn't blame him. Still, he let her get away with the act, even if it was woefully frayed around the edges.
In careful tones, he asked, ”So, is this b.a.s.t.a.r.d the reason you're nervous about starting something with me?”
Yes, she thought. Because you know even less about commitment than he did. And because I'm afraid to trust a man who might leave me when I need him most-like you left me last night. Like you' ll probably leave me to go back to flying planes like the one that . . . killed you.
”Maybe,” she replied. Then, gathering her wits a little, she added, ”But, Sam, it's not just that. I meant it when I said it's happening too fast for me. I can't . . . have an affair with someone I just met a week ago. I know it seems like much longer, and so much has happened, but-”
”But it has only been a week.”
”Not even a whole one. And I know you're probably used to things happening fast that way, but I'm not. My friends in college all thought I was just about the most unliberated, prudish female-”
”Prudis.h.!.+”
”-ever to come down out of the woods, but I can't help it. That's the way I was raised, and we aren't in a city where n.o.body gives a hoot what you do with your life. I've already had three neighbors ask me who that man was who carried me into my house, then stayed until ten o'clock Tuesday night, and if I-”
”If you sleep with me, everybody's going to know it.”
”Yes, and I'd better be darned sure I'm ready to take what the grapevine dishes out. Because after you're gone, I'll have to live with it, and-”
”And that's the problem, isn't it?”
His question stopped her.
”You're scared of getting into something with me, then having me take off next week.”
”Well, Sam,” she began in sensible tones, ”I understand that you-”
”I told you, I can't make you any promises, Katie. And by now, you ought to see why.”
”I do. I'm not asking you to. It's just that . . .” She trailed off, half turning away and wrapping an arm around her waist as a stab of antic.i.p.ated pain shot through her.
”It's just that you need a little more rea.s.surance than I've given you,” he finished.
Pressing her lips together, she nodded. ”Something like that. I guess.”
Sam let out a sigh. ”I started to tell you the other day, since the crash, I haven't been involved with anyone. And I didn't come up here looking for a woman. I ought to tell you to get the h.e.l.l out of here, because getting involved with me can't do you a bit of good, but . . . dammit, Katie-”
When he didn't continue, she turned her head to see him struggling for control. Their gazes met, and a moment later, he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, ”I don't want you to go.”
The admission cost him as much, or more, she thought, than anything else he'd said that morning.
She searched his features, torn between the need to protect herself and the almost overwhelming desire to give him what he wanted-what he needed-which, she was beginning to believe, was more than he'd ever allowed any woman to give him. His next words only strengthened the belief.
Dropping his gaze from hers, he muttered, ”I'm not good at this-talking about relations.h.i.+ps. I'm used to things being casual and loose-ended. No pressure, no strings. But that's not going to work for you . . . and, to tell you the truth”-he pa.s.sed a hand over his face, then back through his hair-”I'm not sure it'll work for me anymore, either.”
With a soft, disparaging noise, he admitted, ”Dying has a way of making you think about what's important, or if all you've been doing wasting time.”
Cautiously, Kate asked, ”Is that what you think you were doing before you . . . died? Wasting time?”
He waited a long time before he answered. ”In some ways, yes. In others . . .” He trailed off with a one-shouldered shrug.
Then, with a frustrated sound, he began pacing as he said, ”I do know one thing, though. Friends are in d.a.m.ned short supply these days. Most of the people I know were totally freaked out that their old buddy Sam, of all unlikely people, woke up one day and discovered he could cure the sick and dying. Even Sid doesn't know what to say to me anymore. And I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going to find a woman who can watch me do what I did last night without getting freaked out, then make her run away because she's afraid that all I want is to get laid.”
He came to a halt five feet away and met her gaze as he finished, ”It's not true, Katie. That's not how I think of you. And it sure as h.e.l.l isn't all I want from you.”