Part 22 (1/2)

”On the contrary.”

”I mean as an herbalist.”

”I don't know anything about that sort of thing, but I don't discount it.”

He wasn't about to let her dose him, either. ”Why'd you get into it?”

”It's always been an interest. There have been healers in my family for generations.”

”Doctors?”

”Not exactly.”

Boone picked up the wine and two gla.s.ses as they walked through the kitchen and out onto the deck. ”You didn't want to be a doctor.”

”I didn't feel qualified to go into medicine.”

”Now that's a very odd thing for a modern, independent woman to say.”

”One has nothing to do with the other.” She accepted the gla.s.s he offered. ”It's not possible to heal everyone. And I- have difficulty being around suffering. What I do is my way of satisfying my needs and protecting myself.” It was the most she felt she could give him. ”And I like working alone.”

”I know the feeling. Both my parents thought I was crazy. The writing was okay, but they figured I'd write the great American novel, at the very least. Fairy tales were hard for them to swallow at first.”

”They must be proud of you.”

”In their way. They're nice people,” he said slowly, realizing he'd never discussed them with anyone but Alice. ”They've always loved me. G.o.d knows they dote on Jessie. But they have a hard time understanding that I might not want what they want.

A house in the suburbs, a decent golf game, and a spouse who's devoted to me.”

”None of those things are bad.”

”No, and I had it once-except for the golf game. I'd rather not spend the rest of my life convincing them that I'm content with the way things are now.” He twined a lock of her hair around his fingers. ”Don't you get the same sort of business from yours? Anastasia, when are you going to settle down with some nice young man and raise a family?”

”No.” She laughed into her wine. ”Absolutely not.” The very idea of her mother or father saying, even thinking, such a thing made her laugh again. ”I suppose you could say my parents are- eccentric.” Comfortable, she laid her head back and looked at the stars. ”I think they'd both be appalled if I settled for nice. You didn't tell me you had one of Aunt Bryna's ill.u.s.trations.”

”When you made the family connection, you were ready to chew me up and spit me out. It didn't seem appropriate. Then, I guess, it slipped my mind.”

”Obviously she thinks highly of you. She only gave one to Nash after the wedding, and he'd been coveting one for years.”

”That so? I'll be sure to rub his nose in it the next time I see him.”

Tipping up her chin with a finger, he turned her face toward his. ”It's been a long time since I sat on a porch and necked. I'm wondering if I still have the hang of it.”

He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, a third time, until hers trembled open in invitation. He took the gla.s.s from her fingers, set it aside with his as his mouth moved to accept what was offered.

Sweet, so sweet, the taste of her, warming him, soothing him, exciting him. Soft, so soft, the feel of her, tempting him, luring him, charming him. And quiet, so quiet, that quick, catching sigh that sent a streak of lightning zipping up his spine.

But he was no sweaty, fumbling boy groping in the dark. The volcano of needs simmering inside him could be controlled. If he couldn't give her the fullness of his pa.s.sion, then he could give her the benefit of his experience.

While he filled himself with her, slowly, degree by painful degree, he gave back a care and a tenderness that had her teetering helplessly on that final brink before love.

To be held like this, she thought dimly, with such compa.s.sion mixed with the hunger. In all of her imaginings, she had never reached for this.