A Lasting Love (4 page)

She paused at the top. "How do you know so
much
about me?"

"I made it my business to find out. I told you,
Loren
Randolph, I'm terribly attracted to you." He
smiled and
touched her nose with his index finger, and
Loren had the
feeling—perhaps the private wish—that if
they hadn't
been in such a public place, he would have
kissed her
again.

The ancient heavily wooded shadowed interior
prob
ably enhanced the romantic mood of the evening.
But they
didn't notice. Loren and Reid were
indifferent to the mys
terious and dark waters of the
Potomac, the symmetrical designs of city lights glittering across
the river, an occa
sional foghorn. They had eyes and
ears only for each
other.

She leaned toward him as the waiter removed
their soup
bowls. "How could you waste it,
Reid?"

His dark eyes flickered at her. "I, and the
children in
Arizona, would starve before we'd eat
those floating
things in our soup."

Loren feigned shock. "Oyster stew? Why, that's
an East
Coast mainstay."

"Maybe for you. But not this unrefined oaf." He
paused
while the waiter served their dinner. "How can
a lovely
señorita
like yourself eat . . . that
thing?"

Her blue eyes widened. "Don't you like lobster
either?"

He plunged his knife into the juicy steak
before him. "Only if it's disguised. Definitely not staring at me
with
those little beady eyes and its pincers
poised."

Thus they spent the evening teasing, cajoling,
and learn
ing that in many ways they were not very much
alike at
all. But it simply endeared Reid to Loren all
the more. She
adored every minute. Reid was funny,
interesting, and
extremely western. And she loved
being with him. They
lingered over coffee, not saying
very much, just enjoy
ing the evening.

So it was no surprise to either of them when,
at her front
door, she asked him in. And he accepted.
In the bluish
shadows cast by the colored shade of the
old Tiffany lamp
Loren and Reid stood close, entranced
with each other.
Slowly his hands eased up her lacy
sleeves, cupping her
face, tilting it upward to his.
Eagerly Loren complied, for
she wanted to feel his
kiss again, absorb his masculine
heat, touch his
beguiling face, search for that hidden dimple. Loren sank against
Reid, and his kiss was as bewitching as she remembered, only
stronger, more powerful, more wonderful. His gentle caress changed
to a forceful, desire-filled entreaty as Reid's hands slid around
her shoulders and down the length of her back, molding her ever
closer to his lean muscled form. The softness of his lips was gone
as he engulfed her mouth with his.

Lost in his virile demands, Loren felt the first
tentative tickling of his tongue over her sensitive lips. His
probing was a trial, seeking surety of her response. To his
delight, Loren opened to meet his quest, accepting the rhythmic
force he offered.

Although young, and somewhat innocent, Loren was
certainly aware of her own feminine responses to Reid's sensuous
masculinity. And she wasn't ashamed to let him know. She met his
probing with her own warm tongue, matching his motions with bold
actions of her own.

Instinctively his hands clasped her hips, thrusting
her hips to his, revealing his male strength and passion. The
sensation was too much for Loren and, although she had responded
quite eagerly until now, the raw male form propelled against her so
boldly was more than she could bear.

"Oh, Reid, no," she breathed, her blue eyes wide and
full of a million expressions.

His hands edged up her back, caressing, stroking,
persuading her in a nonthreatening way. Reid wanted her desperately
tonight and knew by her responses that she wanted him too. However,
he sensed her inexperience. One minute she was a wild temptress
eliciting his excitement, the next she was a wide-eyed lamb,
wanting him, yet not quite trusting.

"Loren
. ..
Loren,
you're so tempting ... so beautiful," he groaned.

In response, Loren's hands slid inside his jacket to
stroke his firm chest, then around his ribs to clutch the taut
muscles of his back. "Reid, you are the most exciting man I've ever
met. I can't believe what's happening to me . . ." she breathed.
His hand slid around to cup her breasts, sending new, uninhibited
sensations coursing through her.

"Loren,
mi querida,
you know you want me.
Don't
deny it. Say yes
...
I
must have you," he pleaded hoarsely,
his thumb amusing
her nipple.

Say yes?
Suddenly Loren was
hesitant. "I ... I don't know . . . it's too soon, Reid. It's
crazy." Her voice was a whisper, for inside herself, Loren knew
what she was leading him to . . . agreeing to. And she couldn't
believe her own sounds.

Reid had never shifted away from her, and Loren could
still feel the swell of his masculinity against her. "Loren,
darling . . ." His voice was ragged. "I can make it special for
you. For both of us. You are everything I need in a
woman—beautiful, smart, responsive to me and only me . . ."

She tried to move away. "And . . . inexperienced . .
."

He nibbled at her ear. "At least you're honest about
it."

"I want our relationship to be honest. And I don't
want it to begin too quickly and end after tonight."

"Oh, God, no," he murmured against her neck, assured
that he would have her tonight.

"Do you promise? Reid . . ." She was serious.

He looked deep into her blue eyes and answered
fervently, "I promise, Loren. It won't end . . . ever. I love
you."

His bold claim took her by surprise. "This is insane,
Reid. Too soon for you, for us to feel anything like love. I think
I'm in a whirlwind."

He reached down and picked her up in his strong arms
and walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom. "We're in a
whirlwind together, Loren. And that's what makes this attraction
between us so very special. It was immediate. We're drawn together,
Loren. We can't deny it, so why try to fight it? Let's enjoy it . .
. and each other."

Her bedroom was dark, but outlines of furniture were
visible as their eyes became accustomed to the dimness. He stood
her in the middle of the room, awkwardly fumbling with the million
unwieldy pearl buttons that divided the front of her antique dress.
When they were finally undone, he peeled the fabric back from her
bodice and over her shoulders as if he were unwrapping a package.
She wore a lacy pink-and-beige-silk teddy, and his fingers clutched
at it, scooting it down over her curves.

Loren stood before him unashamed and proud of
her body. Her breasts were two creamy mounds, naturally well-formed
and uplifted, peaked with strawberry tips, firm and ready for the
picking. Her hips flared ever so slightly from her slim waist. They
blended into straight, compact thighs. It was those thighs he
touched, unable to keep his hands
off
her
any longer. He scanned her entire body length with his hands, aware
of the ripple of desire that shivered over her. As his hands cupped
her enticing breasts, she reached for him.

"Now you," she ordered in a hoarse whisper.

Eager to comply, to have her, Reid dropped his
jacket beside her heirloom dress. While his hands tore at the
stubbornly knotted tie, Loren began on the row of shirt buttons. By
the time she had finished, he had unzipped his
slacks,
which also joined the growing heap of clothes at their feet.
Another quick movement and he stood before
her
completely nude, aroused, and impatient to take her
in
his arms.

Almost shyly she touched him, running curious
hands
over his rocklike muscles, combing through the
sprinkling of
hair that curled on his chest and
trailed to
his flat belly. When he could stand no
more, he wrapped
her in his arms, burying his face
against her soft breasts.

He lowered her gently to the bed, murmuring
promises of love forever. His skill at lovemaking convinced
Loren
that Reid was no novice. The thought reassured
her, and
she relinquished herself to his care. She
believed his pas
sionate promises because she wanted
to, and trusted his
erotic leadership because it
worked. She found her tightly
coiled body relaxing . .
. and enjoying.

"My sweet, beautiful Loren," he murmured as
his
hands stroked and excited her, teaching her. His
lips encir
cled each rosy tip, finally bringing her
urgently to arch
against him, begging for fulfillment.
He paused briefly for the safety of a condom.

Their coming together was as passion-filled
as
their brief, magnetic acquaintance had been. The
flash of
lightning that consumed them both feverishly
brought
forth a sudden feminine cry, then soft moans
of pleasure. And, in the
darkness, low masculine
rumblings.

Reid comforted her, repeating gentle words of
love and
cuddling her against his chest. She had given
herself to him completely and
trustingly, with no
regrets.
She had been fulfilled as a woman, by the man
she
loved. And hadn't he said he loved her
too?

She ran her
fingernails over his
chest. "Did you know that a sea cap
tain once owned
this house?"

He nuzzled her neck. "Wonder if he and his wife
made
love in this room."

She laughed. "I'm sure somebody did. Whether it
was
the captain . . . who knows?"

"What happened to him?"

"Well, foreign soldiers who were taken
prisoner
were forced to lay these brick sidewalks that
we have. And one of them escaped and hid out in the attic of this
house while
the captain was off to sea. When the
soldier was discov
ered by the captain's wife, she just
couldn't turn him in.
Eventually they were caught in
the captive/captor syn
drome. And she gave in to his
wicked ways. . . ."

"Wicked? The poor fellow was starved for
affection and
a woman's gentle touch." His laughter
rumbled in the
darkness.

"Like this?" Loren giggled and ran her hand
tauntingly
over him. "I always wondered how they
communicated, though, if she spoke only English and he spoke only
Ger
man."

Reid's leg draped over hers. "Oh, that's easy.
They
spoke the universal language of
passion!"

"Passion?" She laughed, her voice tinkling in the
quiet. “You mean love?”

"Um-hum, love, passion, like this .. . and this . . .
and this. Soon she got his message. And they were conversing like
crazy."

"Brilliant." she mused, then cuddled against
him like a kitten. "I think they fell madly in love, and when the
war
was over, they escaped together."

"What a romantic you are, Loren." His hands
caressed her
tenderly.

She nibbled lightly on his neck. "Incurable."

"Then you like my universal language of passion?"

"Of course," she murmured low. "But
the universal language is love."

"Love leads to passion,
mi amor,
and we have a tradition
to
follow. Hold me close. ..."

They conversed in their own special language,
and, as
Reid promised, their love didn't end that
night. Nor in a
week or a month. It continued long
enough for them to
make love in the Texas bluebonnets,
delight in Washing
ton's cherry blossoms, walk along
the sandy beach off the
coast of South Carolina, and
embrace the spectacular au
tumn at Valley
Forge.

Yet, when the winter winds whipped across the
Poto
mac, they nipped mercilessly at Loren's solitary
figure. She was alone and Reid was gone from her life.

Chapter Three

Loren gazed around the ancient room filled with
heavy
wooden furniture as they made their way to a
table for two
near a window. She could never enter the
Seaport Inn
without thinking of
him.
They had spent many happy
hours
here. . . years ago.

"Ah, this is perfect. Excellent view of the
Potomac, isn't
it, darling?" He helped her with her
chair. "See what
you've missed by refusing to come
here?"

"Yes, it's lovely, Mark." How could she tell
him that
whenever she returned to this place her
feelings
were so strong, so overwhelmingly awful, she
could almost
reach out and touch them. And tonight was
no exception.
There was an eerie, almost tangible
feeling in the air.
Loren shivered and looked out over
the Potomac River to
the array of lights from
Washington.