John raised the bottle of beer to his lips and took a long pull. She’d wanted him to find her, and he had. A year later, he could still remember the exact color her blood had turned the bath water. He could see her chalky white face and damp blond hair. He could smell the shampoo she’d used and see the cuts she’d made up her wrists almost to her elbows. He could still feel that awful kick in the gut.
Every day he lived with the awful guilt. Every day he sought diversion from his memories and the part he’d played in them.
John walked into his bedroom and looked down at the sultry girl wrapped up in his sheet. The light from the hall shined on the bed and the dark curls fanning her head. One arm rested across her stomach while the other lay out to one side.
He figured he should feel bad for usurping Virgil’s wedding night. But he didn’t. He didn’t regret what he’d done. He’d had too good a time, and if anyone found out she’d spent the night in his house, they would assume he’d had sex with her anyway. So what the hell?
She had a body made for sex, but as he’d found out, she wasn’t as experienced as her teasing had suggested. He’d had to show her how to give and receive pleasure. He’d kissed and caressed her body with his tongue, and in turn he’d taught her what to do with that pouty mouth of hers. She was sensual and naive, and he found her incredibly erotic.
John moved to the side of the bed and slid the white sheet to her waist. She looked like she’d been dropped naked into a huge dollop of whipped cream. He felt himself grow hard again and covered her with his body. Moving his hands to the sides of her breasts, he lowered his face to her cleavage and tenderly kissed her there. Here, with soft, warm flesh beneath him, he didn’t have to think of anything. All he had to do was feel pleasure. Hearing Georgeanne’s deep moan, he looked up into her face. Her slumberous green eyes stared back at him.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked.
Georgeanne watched his dimple crease his right cheek and felt her heart swell. “Wasn’t that your intention?” she asked, caring about him so much she felt it deeply in her soul, and while he hadn’t said he cared for her, she knew he must feel something. He’d risked Virgil’s anger by being with her. He’d jeopardized his career, and Georgeanne found the gamble he’d taken for her exciting and terribly romantic.
“I could control my hands and let you go back to sleep. But it won’t be easy,” he said as he moved his palm to the outside of her bare thigh.
“Do I have another option?” she asked, and ran her fingers through the short hair at his temples.
He slid upward until his face was above hers. “I could make you scream again with pleasure.”
“Hmm.” She pretended to consider her choices. “How long do I have to make up my mind?”
“Time just ran out.”
John was young and handsome, and in his arms, she felt secure and protected. He was a wonderful lover and could take care of her. And most important, she was falling madly in love with him.
He placed his lips on hers and kissed her with sweet passion, and she felt like singing that old country and western song. She was “the happiest girl in the whole U.S.A.”
She wanted to make John happy, too. Ever since her first relationship at the age of fifteen, Georgeanne had always changed like a chameleon to become whatever her current boyfriend wanted. In the past, she’d done everything from dying her hair an ungodly shade of red to bruising her body on a mechanical bull. Georgeanne had always gone out of her way to please the men in her life, and in return, they loved her for it.
John might not love her now, but he would.
Chapter Five
Georgeanne raised a hand to the ache in her chest. Her fingers grasped the white satin bow sown to her bodice, while within her breast, love and hatred collided like a wrecking ball and shattered her heart. Bound in her pink wedding dress and flimsy high-heeled mules, she fought against the stinging in the backs of eyes. But as she watched John’s red Corvette pull back out into traffic, she felt herself losing the fight. Her vision blurred, but the release of her tears brought no comfort.
Even as she watched John disappear, she couldn’t believe that he had actually dumped her on the sidewalk in front of the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Not only had he abandoned her, but he’d left without looking back.
All around her people dressed for business, or in light summer clothes, hurried by. Taxi drivers unloaded luggage while the exhaust from the cabs choked the hot air. Skycaps joked with customers while an expressionless male voice warned that the marked area in front of the airport was for loading and unloading only. The jumbled sounds around Georgeanne matched the confused hum in her head. Last night John had behaved so unlike the indifferent man who’d awakened her this morning with a Bloody Mary in his hand. Last night he’d made love to her repeatedly, and she’d never felt closer to a man. She’d been so sure John had felt close to her, too. Surely he wouldn’t have taken such a risk unless he cared. If he’d felt nothing for her, he wouldn’t have jeopardized his career with the Chinooks. But this morning he’d behaved as if they’d spent the night watching reruns on television instead of making love. When he’d announced that he’d booked her a flight to Dallas, he’d sounded as if he were doing her a big favor. When he’d helped her into the corset and pink wedding dress, his touch had been impersonal. So unlike the hot caresses of her lover the night before. While he’d helped her dress, Georgeanne had struggled with her confused feelings. She’d struggled to find the right words to convince him to let her stay with him. She’d hinted at her willingness to do and be anything he wanted, but he’d ignored her subtle suggestions.
On the way to the airport, he’d played his music so loud that conversation had been impossible. During the hour she’d spent in his car, she’d tortured herself with questions. She’d wondered what she’d done and what had happened to change everything. Only her pride kept her from switching off the cassette player and demanding an answer. Only pride had held back her tears when he’d helped her out of his car.
“Your plane leaves in just under an hour. You have plenty of time to pick up your ticket at the counter and still make the flight,” John had informed her as he’d handed her overnight case to her.
A tight fist of panic seized her stomach. Fright pushed her beyond pride, and she opened her mouth to plead with him to take her back to the beach house, where she felt safe. His next words stopped her. “In that dress, you’re sure to get at least two marriage proposals before you reach Dallas. I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, God knows I’ve messed up mine, but maybe you should put a little more thought into your next fiancй.”
She loved him so much she ached, and he didn’t care if she married another man. The night they’d shared hadn’t meant anything to him.
“It’s been great knowing you, Georgie,” he’d said, then turned away.
“John!” His name burst from her lips, past her pride.
He’d turned, and the look on her face must have revealed everything she felt inside. He’d sighed with resignation. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I told you from the beginning, I wouldn’t risk my position with the Chinooks for you.” He’d paused, then added, “It’s nothing personal.” Then he’d walked away, down the sidewalk, and out of her life.
Georgeanne’s hand began to ache, and she looked down at the overnight case she held in her tight grasp. Her knuckles were white and she loosened her grip.
The thick exhaust fumes made her nauseous, and she finally turned and walked into the airport. She had to get out of here. She had to go away, but she didn’t know where to go. She felt all of her circuits overloading and tried to push everything from her mind. She found the Delta ticket counter, and no, she told the agent, she didn’t have any luggage to check. With her ticket in one hand and her overnight case in the other, she turned away.