Today he was in slacks and shirt, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He didn't see Dottie at first and she was able to study him, trying to recapture the way he'd seemed the previous evening. But in the morning light she saw only a man whose arms were heavy with muscles, and whose torso beneath the light shirt was lean and hard.
Last night he'd kissed her, but only softly, on the lips. He hadn't put those strong arms around her or drawn her against him. Of course it was better that he hadn't, but for a moment her head spun with the thought. Behind the gentleness of his mouth she'd sensed something else, a tension, an urgency, even an anger, that she'd never known before in a man's kiss.
Her experience was limited: overeager boys whose wishes had exceeded their skill, and whom she'd had to put firmly in their place. And Mike, well-meaning and affectionate, always glad to please her.
But now she'd encountered something different, not a boy but a man, with the power to excite her mysteriously. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again something had changed. The sun struck him at an angle that made him seem enclosed in a golden light, and for a moment it was like seeing an apparition; a benevolent apparition that hinted at a glorious future that might tantalize her for a moment before vanishing.
He looked up to where she stood. But although his eyes were fixed on her she had a feeling that it wasn't herself he was looking at, but someone else. The impression was so strong that she turned to look behind her. But then he smiled, and she knew it was just for her.
Randolph had awoken with a strange sensation, as though the new world he'd glimpsed last night was still there, inviting him to enter again, because she was there. She had the gift of spring, he thought, and was startled at himself, because such a poetic thought had never crossed his mind before. All his training urged him to avoid such ideas, but when he saw her again he smiled despite himself.
“Was your breakfast all right?” she asked, coming closer to him. “You didn't eat it all.”
He nearly said frivolously, “That was because you didn't bring it up to me.” But he pulled himself together. He was here on serious business.
“It was excellent,” he said, “but a little more than I normally eat. The tea was-” he hunted for the word, “very strong,” he said at last.
“Round here we say tea's not tea unless you can stand the spoon up in it.”
“So I gathered,” he said with feeling.
It was better to keep the talk light, and so avoid the swirling undercurrents.
“Are you exploring the neighborhood?” she asked as they fell into step.
“No, I was waiting for you.”
The sudden gravity in his voice made Dottie's heart beat faster, as though she was faced with unknown danger.
“I warned you about that floorboard,” she said quickly. “If you want to complain-”
“I have no complaints,” he said, taking hold of her arm to halt her. “There are things we need to talk about. Last night-”
“Last night was lovely but…” she shrugged helplessly, “it was last night. Today I'm me again.”
“And who were you then?”
“I don't know. Someone I'd never met before. Someone who could fly.” Meeting his eyes she saw an understanding that disconcerted her. It was as though he knew everything she would say before she'd thought of it herself. It made her laugh self-consciously. “Whoever she was, it's time she went her way and let me go mine.”
“Was she the one who kissed me?”
“She didn't,” Dottie said, trying to be firm. “It was you… Oh, I don't know anything anymore.”
“I've been a bit confused myself,” he admitted. “But I think it was something like this.”
He leaned swiftly down and laid his mouth over hers. He knew there was danger in it, because springtime was always dangerous to a man who'd never known it before. But his caution had deserted him. He must kiss this one woman or regret the loss all his life.
He'd moved too swiftly for Dottie to prevent him. She instinctively put her hand up, but it merely fell on his shoulder. He almost seemed to be hypnotizing her so that her will died away, and she could do only what he was telling her. Obeying those silent instructions, she failed to protest when he put his hands gently on either side of her face.
She hadn't known that a man's lips against hers could feel like this, tender and coaxing, yet impossible to deny. She had a strange feeling that she was kissing him with all of her, not just her mouth. Certainly all of her was responding, from the top of her head, down the length of her suddenly tingling body, right to her curling toes.
Her hands had become rebellious. They wanted to rove over his body, across the hard muscles of his arms and chest and discover the flatness of his stomach, the power of his thighs. She knew that these things were true about him because the movements of his mouth against hers were silently telling her.
Somewhere in her consciousness doors and windows opened wide, showing vistas of far horizons, stormy seas, endless blue skies. The world was so much bigger than she'd dreamed, and was full of so many unsuspected things. There was exploring to do, and it would take her far beyond the comfortable little world in which she'd planned to contain herself and Mike-
Mike!
The word was like a thunderclap in Dottie's brain. Shocked at herself, she drew sharply back and stared at him. Then she wrenched herself out of Randolph's arms and ran deeper into the wood.
“Dottie!” he called and ran after her. “Don't go, please. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.”
“No,” she said, turning back to him and managing a shaky laugh. “This is so silly. It's just…just…”
“Spring makes people do silly things,” he said hastily. “I got carried away.”
“You?” she echoed with such naГЇve astonishment that he had no doubt how he looked to her: a man who couldn't let himself be spontaneous. And she was right. When had it last happened? Never before he met her.
“Perhaps it's because I'm a tourist,” he improvised. “People go mad when they travel abroad-”
“And they make other people mad too,” she agreed, frantically rewriting history. She was in love with Mike, so she hadn't kissed this man. At least, she had but she hadn't really enjoyed it-not as much as she thought she had.
“I have to go now,” she said. “It was nice seeing you again but-” suddenly the words came out in a gabble, “I really must go.”
She rushed away without a backward glance, eager to find Mike and the safe, cozy world she knew with him. There was nothing safe or cozy about this stranger. He made her think of lightning and fire, and she needed to get away from him.
Just beyond the trees she found Mike sitting on a wooden bench, munching a sandwich. He was startled out of his contented reverie by Dottie's arms about his neck as she flung herself down beside him.
“Careful, Dot,” he protested. “You'll get peanut butter over me.”
The last words were lost in the most fervent kiss she'd ever given him. He abandoned the sandwich and embraced her back, despite his surprise.
“Have you been taking something?” he demanded when he could breathe.
“Yes, I'm drunk with spring,” she said idiotically. “And I wanted-” she took a deep breath, “the most wonderful kiss in the world.”
“And you reckoned I could give you that?” Mike asked, awed. “Eee, Dot!”
“Of course. Who else? You're the one I love.”
She said this so fiercely that Mike stared at her in alarm. Randolph, a short distance away, behind a tree, couldn't see him clearly, but he could sense the reaction. What did Mike understand of a woman like this? In the few moments it had taken him to brush his mouth against Dottie's he had discovered the banked fires of passion waiting for the one man to bring it forth. And that man wasn't this well meaning oaf, whatever she believed.