Page 545 of Summer Heat
She freed one hand and put it on his head, in his hair. He sighed, feeling relief course through him. Maybe she wasn’t using the whole thing to put a wedge between them, he thought. And then he was frightened because he wanted so much to come back tonight, and the next night, and the next.
He really tried not to want things. Anything. It was a lesson he’d learned at his father’s knee. Olan had showed up when he felt like it. He didn’t remember promises to take his child fishing, or out on a hike, or for a drive to see the aspens. Lance had learned after too many bitter disappointments to accept whatever came.
Lance had finally learned not to make plans, not to worry about the future—not expect anything. That way, he was never disappointed. When his father would appear with an open Saturday morning to take Lance fishing, Lance had been free to go with him, and enjoy it.
Sitting now in Tamara’s kitchen, smelling the lingering scent of golden waffles, he didn’t want to think about coming back. He didn’t want his heart all caught up in her dreams and wishes. He didn’t want to disappoint her. And he didn’t want to want her—
He straightened. “I’ll talk to my accountants and work something out, so you don’t have to live like this.”
“No, Lance, that’s not necessary. I’ve done—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tamara. I’ve got money enough for ten people, and I don’t want Cody to have to go without. Or his mother.” He raised a warning hand as she opened her mouth. “I know you’ve done the best you could, and I’m amazed you’ve built the kind of life you have on the shoestring I know you’re living on.”
She was blushing, deeply. “It’s not that bad
,” she said, and he heard the humiliation in her voice. “I didn’t tell you so you could throw money at us.”
“I know that.” He sighed in impatience. “One thing you need to get over is feeling like you have to scale the walls of the world all by yourself. It’s okay to have a little help. It would make me happy to do that much anyway.”
She nodded, reluctantly.
Silence fell and grew. Tamara broke it by taking his hand. “There’s one more thing, Lance.”
His gut clenched. Here it came.
“What we had last night was precious and rare.” She paused. “But it can’t happen again. I like you too much to let myself fall in love with you.”
If she had said anything else, anything, he would have argued or cajoled, or even run away. But put like that, there was so much respect and honesty that he had no recourse. She was right to make this call—she saw him as he was, and he liked her for that.
Still, something in him ached. He reached out and touched her cheek. “You’re right,” he said. “I like you, too. Too much to do you wrong—and I would, eventually.” A small bitterness twisted his mouth. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all.”
He thought he glimpsed the faintest trace of tears shining against the brilliance of her irises, then it was gone. She simply nodded.
Lance stood. “It’s been quite a morning,” he said. “I think I need a long walk to sort through everything. I’ll call you when I’ve talked to the accountant.” He cleared his throat and looked out to the churned snow in the backyard, where a roly-poly figure rolled. “I’d like to start getting to know him as soon as I can. I hope you won’t mind working something out so I can be a part of his life.” He looked at her. “My own father wasn’t there for me, and I always vowed I’d be there for my own children. Not—” he grinned ruefully “—that I really thought I’d have any.”
She smiled. “That’s fine. It will be wonderful for Cody. I think for your mother, too.”
“Yeah.”
As if sensing his need to flee, Tamara stood up and carefully pushed in her chair. “Well, I’m glad we can be civilized about it. If you like, I’ll let you decide when you tell him.”
Civilized?
For a moment, Lance could only look at her. At the sleek line of her hair and her lovely shoulders, and the sweet line of breasts. He was seized with a vision of her last night, lying like a sleek cat in the pool of yellow lamplight, her face awash with a rosy flush of passion.
His body responded with a furious, instantaneous reaction, and he found himself clenching his fists. She turned back and caught him staring. An answering flare lit her eyes for an instant, and was gone. She crossed her arms. “Lance, I mean it.”
He licked his lips. “I know,” he said. “Nobody said it was going to be easy.” He moved closer, and trapped her with his body against the side of the refrigerator. He pressed close, feeling her soft breasts nudge his chest, her thighs so long and lean against his, her quick, excited breath against his neck. “Just one kiss goodbye.”
“Lance,” she whispered, dropping her head away from him. “It only makes it more difficult.”
“Maybe.” He brushed a lock of hair from her temple, and touched the thin skin there with his fingers, absorbed in the beauty of the place, amazed at the tiny blue shading of veins. “But maybe it will just be a very, very sweet goodbye.”
He kissed her temple and heard her breath catch, even as she moved a little, almost unconsciously, against him. He caught her face in his hands and she did not resist when he lift her chin toward him, didn’t move away when he put his mouth on hers.
She parted her lips and invited him in, and with a small groan, Lance pressed it all into memory. The slide of her tongue, the smell of her shampoo, the soft cotton sweater she wore and the way her arms felt below it. He memorized the soft, tiny sound she made, both protest and yearning, and it was, at last, the reason he let her go.
Because he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her. And if he let her go now, he never would. With a halfhearted smile, he touched her cheek. “I wish I were another kind of man, Tamara. You’re a hell of a woman.”
