“I was just curious about whom I was making love to.” He leaned over to press a kiss, first on her forehead, then on her nose. Blue-grave-blue-eyes focused on her startled brown ones, though there was a faint, even gentle, smile on his lips. “You worked very hard to cheat yourself,” he whispered. “I’ve been trying to figure out why for an hour, and I can’t. You’re going to have to give me a clue.”
“I don’t-what are you talking about?”
He said nothing, just continued to press another series of kisses down the side of her face, into her neck. When she stiffened, his arm tightened. Except for that, his touch was petal soft.
“You weren’t…pleased?” she whispered hesitantly. “Ryan, it’s been a long time since I-”
“I know that.” He raised himself up on one elbow and started stroking her hair back from her forehead, over and over. “Would you look at me?” he whispered.
Her lashes fluttered open.
“You’re my Greer again,” he murmured. “Now you’re my Greer again. A little shy, though you don’t like anyone to know that. Sensual as a kitten who wants to curl up in the sun. And certain things…certain things were you, weren’t they, Brown Eyes? Your breasts are extremely sensitive. You like the lightest touch. And you’re a born hedonist, my lady. You like to be rubbed; you like the feel of skin against skin. No. Open your eyes.”
His tone was light, but she obeyed him because there was something else in his voice as well.
“I failed you, Brown Eyes. Not the other way around,” he said quietly. “Pretending isn’t the way, though, honey. What bothers me is that you felt you needed to.”
She suddenly couldn’t possibly meet his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said lightly, slipping out of his arms, trying not to hurry, trying to ease away from him as if the only thought in her head was to take a languid stretch after lying still so long. “I’m starving,” she announced. “Do you realize what time it must be? And it’s getting cold.”
She crossed the room to push the balcony doors closed. Her heart was trying to trip over itself. Ryan was silent behind her, at least for a moment.
“I’ll order up a meal,” he said finally. “Since you’re suddenly that hungry.”
“No.” She turned to him with a brilliant smile and then reached rapidly for her swimsuit. “I have to go home.”
“No, you don’t. Tomorrow’s Sunday. We can stay all of tonight and tomorrow as well.”
“The cat,” Greer said regretfully. “I can’t leave him, Ryan. There’s no one to feed him. Really, I have to go home.”
She slipped on the bottom of her swimsuit, then turned away as she put on the halter, her fingers all thumbs, slippery, clumsy. Only when she was covered again did she steal another look at Ryan.
He was still lying there on the bed. One of his legs was bent at the knee, he’d pushed both pillows behind his head and he appeared as unaware of his nakedness as she was of how naked she suddenly felt. His eyes were on hers, spears of blue that pierced her skin, her mind, her heart. He was trying to guess…things. Things she didn’t want him to know.
Had he found her wanting? Did he find her wanting? And if he did, that was nothing less than what she should have expected. Greer felt a sudden disastrous urge to cry. Not a tear here and there, but a burst of them.
Slowly, Ryan sat up, and then stood, still watching her. She was acting as if this were a one-night stand, for which he would have shaken her…if she’d been anyone but Greer. Greer was an irrational, damnably incomprehensible, totally illogical woman, but he could sense that she was ready to burst into tears and that to push her was to risk losing her.
He considered slamming his fist into the wall, and put on his swimming trunks instead. He didn’t have the least idea what had gone wrong for her. Maybe it was the motel. Maybe it was too soon. Her ex-husband?
It was there, between them. Wanting. Love. Caring. All of the things that mattered. Ryan would have slain dragons for her, but Greer didn’t let anyone slay her dragons for her.
They drove home in silence, stopping for hamburgers along the way. Greer curled up on the seat next to him, wrapped in a towel as if she were cold, even though the night air was muggy and he was waiting-needing-to reach out and hold her. Halfway home, he gave in to the blasted impulse, reached an arm around her shoulder, and tugged.
She settled willingly with her head on his shoulder for the rest of the ride. Whatever her emotional state of mind, the tension in her body gradually dissolved. He flicked on a bluesey CD e, because she’d clearly liked R &B… He played it low, and over the miles felt her body ultimately relax in sheer exhausted sleep.
At home, he switched off the ignition and sat in the car holding her. His arm was stiff, folded around her. He wanted to leave it there. The night was pitch-dark except for the apartment’s floodlight. A ray zigzagged across Greer’s cheek, her shoulder, one bare white breast that her swimming top couldn’t hide, not in that position. Desire stirred in him, a deep, powerful desire to make love to her again.
And a second time she wouldn’t get away with pretending. A second time he would send her over the edge, whether she wanted it or not. A second time he’d listen to his own instincts, not to the messages she sent him. He wasn’t a psychologist and didn’t want to be. He cared less why Greer had behaved the way she had than that he’d been blind enough to let it happen, when he’d wanted to ensure that their lovemaking was good for her. There would be a second time. Earthquakes and hurricanes wouldn’t stop there being a second time.
But not, unfortunately, this evening. He opened the car door. She murmured. He got out first, still leaning over to hold her so she wouldn’t fall, and then lifted her legs out, snaking his arms around her waist.
“Did I fall asleep?” she murmured groggily.
“No.” For the first time in hours, he smiled. Greer was limp lettuce, draped over his shoulders, her bare toes grazing the ground and her eyes still closed. Ryan slammed the car door. “Where’s your key, love?”
“Flowerpot.”
“Pardon?”
She waved an arm in the general direction of the moon. “Flowerpot.”
He gathered she kept an apartment key in that wrought-iron urn in the hall. He’d figured out a while back that it was her urn and geraniums anyway. And if he’d known she’d pick such an obvious place to put a spare apartment key, he would probably have throttled her.
It didn’t seem the time. She kissed his neck as he walked in. Both of her arms stayed loosely draped around him. Her feet marginally obeyed the learned impulse to walk. He simply lifted her up the steps.
“I’m awake,” she announced again at the door.
“Good,” he murmured as he opened it, keeping her propped up with his other arm. “Because we’re about to have a small discussion, Greer.”
The cat leaped at them in the dark, meowing furiously. Ryan switched on a light, nearly dropped his leggy bundle in the process and with a sigh, picked Greer up in his arms.
“Truce,” she murmured. “Hungry.”
“And since we’re having this complicated intellectual discussion,” Ryan whispered, making his way with her through the dark hallway, “I thought I’d mention that I’ve taken over your crank caller, sweet. All arguments are worthless. Don’t bother.”
“Mmm.”
He meant to place her gently on the bed. It ended up as more of a flop than a gentle laying down, but Greer didn’t seem to mind. The faint light from the living room was enough, once his pupils adjusted to the dark. “I thought you’d see it my way,” he whispered soothingly, as he tenderly peeled off her swimsuit. “You’ve been afraid too long, Greer. And you’ve had reason to know fear in these last months. But I’ll be damned if you’re going to be afraid of me. And I’ll be doubly damned before I sit still and watch you take on the entire world alone again. And don’t argue.”