Part 40 (1/2)

”Agreed. And please don't say anything to Shane . . . about what I a.s.sumed. He'll think I'm a real busybody.”

”Of course I won't say anything,” Paula rea.s.sured her. She rose. ”Let's go and sit by the fire.”

As the two of them walked across the floor, Paula slipped her arm through Elaine's companionably, said in a low voice, ”Try not to look so upset, so worried. Shane'll spot that straightaway. He's very intuitive. It's the Celt in him, I suppose. When I was little I actually believed he could read my mind ... he was always second-guessing me in the most maddening way.”

Elaine merely smiled at this remark as she lowered herself into a chair. Although she had recovered some of her composure, she was cursing herself under her breath. How stupid she had been to presume they were having an affair. But who wouldn't think that. . . there was an intimacy between them, a kind of bonding, and Shane devoured Paula with his eyes, hung on to her every word. It was transparent that he was in love with her, no matter what Paula believed. And who's she kidding? Only herself. Well, self-delusion is a very human trait, Elaine thought, and stole a look at Paula, who sat in the chair opposite. Whether she knows it or not, she adores him. And not just as an old friend would . . . it's much more than that, more complex, and it runs deeper. Still, perhaps she hasn't realized the extent of her feelings for him. And I ought not to have said anything. Elaine chastised herself again.

But a few seconds later, when Shane brought the tray of coffee to the fireplace, Elaine saw Paula's eyes instantly fly to his face, detected curiosity and a new and avid interest glittering in them. Elaine thought: Who knows, maybe I wasn't so foolish-maybe I've done them both a big favor by speaking out of turn.

Shane served the coffee. Sonny poured cognac, and ten minutes later he fetched his guitar and began to play. He was a cla.s.sical guitarist and immensely talented, and the others sat back, captivated by his playing and his music, entranced by the magic he created for them.

Paula was only half-listening. She was thankful not to have to make conversation. Her mind was in a turmoil. Elaine had stunned her, and much more than she had permitted the other woman to see. But the shock was receding and she tried to sort out her troubled thoughts.

She was positive that Elaine had simply misunderstood Shane's att.i.tude, his behavior toward her. On the other hand, what if Elaine was correct? Elaine had a.s.serted that her .marriage explained everything-meaning, of course, that it explained Shane's unhappiness, which they had apparently detected. Paula suddenly remembered the incomplete thought she had had that afternoon when she had been dozing on the sofa. She had been dwelling on the past few days, thinking that Shane was his old self, the way he was before her marriage. Something had clicked in her head, but then she had fallen asleep. Now that thought became whole, fully formed. Shane had changed, had dropped her, the moment her engagement to Jim had been announced. Why? Because he was jealous. That was the obvious explanation. How stupid she had been not to recognize this before tonight. But why hadn't Shane made it clear to her that he cared for her, when she was still free? Perhaps he had not understood that, until it was too late. It all made sense suddenly.

Paula leaned back in the chair, shattered by her conclusions. She closed her eyes, letting the music lap over her. She thought of Shane. He sat only a few feet away from her. What were his thoughts and emotions at this moment? Was he really in love with her? Crazy about her, so Elaine had said. Paula's heart clenched. And what about me? How do I feel about Shane? Am I unconsciously responding to vibrations emanating from him? Or am I in love with him? . . . Have I always been in love with him without knowing it? She tried to examine her innermost emotions, take stock of her feelings. She floundered.

They left at eleven forty-five.

Shane saw them out.

She knew what she was going to do.

Rising, she walked over to the chest, retrieved the bottle of cognac, carried it back to the fireside. She refilled their brandy balloons, placed the bottle in the center of the coffee table, threw a couple of logs onto the fire.

Then she sat down on the sofa to wait for him.

A few minutes later she heard his step, glanced around as he came in. She smiled across the room at him.

Shane faltered, surprised to see her sitting there, holding another drink. He frowned. ”Are you planning to stay up all night? I would've thought you'd be half dead by now. It's been a long day, you worked so hard in the kitchen, shouldn't we go-”

”I just got a second wind!” she cried, cutting him off before he suggested they go to sleep. ”I'm having a nightcap. I've poured one for you. Aren't you going to join me?” When he did not reply, she laughed gaily. ”Oh, don't be such an old spoilsport, Shane.”

He hesitated fractionally. He was afraid of being alone with her. He had been much too aware of her this evening. His desire for her had flared time and time again. His emotions were near the surface. He had sunk a lot of booze. He suddenly wasn't sure whether he could trust himself with her. This thought instantly annoyed him. He wasn't a callow youth, out on his first date, itching to make a conquest. He was a grown man. And he was with the girl he had known all his life. Yes, he loved her. But she trusted him. He was a gentleman. And he could handle himself. Still, I ought to put an end to the evening now, he thought. He said, ”Well, just one for the road. I'd planned for us to go riding tomorrow morning-bright and early.”

He strolled over to the fireplace, striving to appear offhand. He reached for the drink she had poured, stepped away from the coffee table, planning to sit in the chair next to the hearth.

Paula patted the sofa. ”No, sit here, Shane, next to me. I want to talk to you.”

He tensed, looked at her alertly, searching her face. Her expression was neutral, placid even. It baffled him. She was usually much more animated. ”Okay.” He sat as far away from her as -possible, squashed himself into the opposite corner of the sofa. , ”Cheers,” Paula said, leaning closer, knocking her gla.s.s against his.

”Cheers.” Their hands accidentally touched as they lifted their gla.s.ses. He felt a spark of electricity shoot up his arm. He pushed himself even farther into the corner, crossed his legs. ”What do you want to talk to me about?”

”I'd like to ask you a question.”

”Go on, then ...”

”Will you tell me the truth?”

He eyed her, suddenly wary. ”It depends on the question. If I don't like it, I might be evasive in my answer.”

She gave him an odd look. ”You and I always told each other the truth when we were children. We never dealt in lies then ... I'd like it to be like that between us again.”

”But it is!”

”Not really, Shane.” She saw the surprise registering in his eyes. ”Oh yes,” she said, ”it's been like old times this week, I admit, but there has been an estrangement between us for almost two years. Please don't even try to deny that.” There, it was out at last. ”In fact,” she went on quickly, ”you've been cold and distant with me for the longest time. When I asked you about your remoteness, your absence from my life, oh, ages ago now, you brushed me off with silly excuses. Pressure of work, travel, you said.” Paula placed her drink on the coffee table and stared hard at him. ”I never really believed you in my heart of hearts. And that brings me to my question”-she paused, her eyes stayed on his face-and it's this: What awful thing did I do to you, to drive you out of my life? You-my oldest and dearest friend.”

He stared back at her, unable to make any kind of response. If he told her the truth he would reveal himself, his real feelings. If he lied, he would hate himself for doing so. Anyway, she was clever. She would spot the lie immediately. He swallowed, put his drink down, looked ahead at the fire, his face reflective. Better to be silent.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Paula, her eyes fixed on him, knew suddenly what his terrible dilemma was. Oh my darling, she thought, open your heart to me, tell me everything. Her love for Shane flowed through her, sweeping all else aside. She caught her breath in astonishment as she finally acknowledged her feelings. She longed to put her arms around him, to expunge the sadness on his face with her kisses.

The silence lengthened.

Paula said softly, ”I realize how difficult it is for you to answer my question.” There was only the merest hesitation before she finished, ”And so I will do it for you. You dropped me because I became engaged to Jim and then married him shortly afterward.”

Still he did not dare open his mouth, afraid of giving himself away. So she had guessed. But exactly how much had she guessed. He blinked, continuing to focus on the dancing flames. He knew he could not let her see his face until he had wiped it clean of all emotion.

Eventually he half-turned to her, said slowly, in ,a voice that was strangely hoa.r.s.e, ”Yes, that's the reason I put distance between us, Paula. Perhaps I was wrong to do that. But . . . you see ... I thought. . . that Jim wuld resent me, yes, and that you would too. After all, why would either of you want an old chum like me loitering on your doorstep . . .” He left the sentence unfinished.

”Shane . . . you're not telling me the truth . . . you know you're not, and so do I.”

It was the inflection of her voice that caught his attention, prompted him to swing his head. In the bright glow of the firelight the pallor of her face had acquired a curious luminosity, a pearly sheen. The violet eyes had darkened, burned with an unfamiliar look he could not fathom. He noticed a vein pulsing rapidly in her neck. She parted her lips as if to say something, but remained silent. That expression in her eyes. Again it struck him with unusual force. His desire for her raged through him. His heart thudded, an internal shaking gripped him. It took all of his self-control to remain seated, to stay away from her. Then he knew what he must do-he must get up, walk out, leave her. But he found he could not move.

They gazed at each other.

Paula saw his love, no longer concealed, leaping out from his brilliantly black eyes. Instantaneously Shane saw her love fully revealed, saw the yearning on her face, the longing and desire that hitherto had been only his to disguise, to withhold.

The shock of recognition transfixed him.

And then with sureness, absolute certainty, they moved at precisely the same moment.

They were in each other's arms. Their mouths met. Her lips were warm and soft and they parted slightly, welcomed him. Their tongues grazed, caressed, lay still. He pushed her down onto the mound of pillows, his left hand holding the nape of her neck, his right smoothing her hair away from her face, stroking her cheek, her long neck. Her hands pressed into his shoulder blades, then moved up into his hair, strong and firm on his scalp. He began to kiss her as he had wanted to kiss her for so long, with pa.s.sion and force, his mouth hard and demanding on hers, his tongue thrusting, their breath, their saliva, mingling. But unexpectedly his kisses became gentle, tender, as he moved his hand onto her breast. He held it firmly, then slowly stroked it until the nipple sprang up hard under his fingers. His heart was slamming against hers.

They pulled apart at last, their breathing labored. He looked down into her face. His eyes impaled hers. She reached up, touched his face, traced one finger across the line of his long upper lip under the mustache.

Shane stood up, undressed rapidly, flung his clothes onto the chair. Paula did the same, and they came together on the sofa with extreme urgency, their hands clutching at each other. He took her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest, kissing her face, her hair, her shoulders. Then he pushed himself up on one elbow, bent over her. How well he knew this body. He had watched it grow from infant to child to young woman. But he had never seen it like this-entirely naked, every inch of it exposed to him, waiting for him. He let his hand slide down over her high, firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s, onto her flat stomach, along the edge of her outer thigh, then her inner thigh, smoothing, caressing, touching every part of her until they came to rest on that soft black vee of hair that concealed the core of her womanhood. He covered it with his entire hand, moved his body so that he could rest his face against her thigh. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord, gently seeking, probing, learning her. And finally he brought his mouth down to join with his fingers in their tender exploration.