Bayview Heights Trilogy (86 page)

He drew back. “Oh, baby, no, no, not
yet.”

It was his turn.

She felt as if she were weightless when he
picked her up. Snuggling against him, she steeped herself in the
play of his muscles against her limbs and the erratic tempo of his
breathing.

It was unlike the last time. Then, their
lovemaking had been an explosion. This was more like a smoldering
flame. She tingled with a craving so intense it consumed her.

He placed her on the bed and ran his hand
down her hip, then up to her breast, which he cradled in his palm.
He sat beside her, leaned over, and through the silk, took a nipple
into his mouth. She arced off the mattress and grasped his
shoulders.

Bracing his arms on either side of her
shoulders, he asked, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve
dreamed about this?”

“Yes.” She had, too.

Even his smile was sexy. He tracked little
kisses from her neck down to her chest, nosing the fabric of her
nightgown away. The hot brush of his lips on her skin made her
tense.

“Shh. Easy,” he said as he drew down the
straps. His eyes narrowed on her as he bared another inch. And
kissed what he exposed. He bared another inch. Kissed that, too. He
repeated the ritual all the way down her body until she was
writhing.

“Kurt, I need you.”

“I need you, too, love.”

His caresses became bolder, but no less
gentle. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel what she
had missed more than anything else in her life: the rasp of his
knuckles over her nipple, then the scrape of his teeth; the curving
of his palm over her, then his fingers sliding into her.

“Please,” she whispered when his mouth met
hers with edgy need.

He drew back and stared down at her. Never
unlocking his eyes from hers, he fumbled on the dresser, found a
condom she’d put there, sheathed himself and finally, finally
stretched out on the bed.

She felt the tears come. Her eyes closed as
he slid into her. Then he stopped, leaned over and sipped the
moisture off her cheeks. “Ah, love, he whispered. “Don’t.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said against
his skin.

Burying his face in her neck, he said, “I’ve
missed you, too. He began to move inside her. “I love you, Zoe.
Love you...love you.”

o0o

KURT ROLLED OVER in bed and opened his eyes.
Bright sunlight peeked through the curtains, disorienting him. Then
he remembered and reached for her.

She was gone.

Sighing, he settled back into the pillows and
glanced at the pretty teakwood clock on the wall. Nine. He hadn’t
slept this well or this long in fourteen months. They’d made love
last night, exquisite, tender, all-consuming love.

And she’d cried.

And she hadn’t said she loved him.

He’d brushed aside the disappointment then;
he’d been on fire for her. Now, in the brittle light of day, it
hurt.

Be thankful for what you have.

Things were going to be all right, he told
himself as he got out of bed. Nothing mattered except that they
were working their way back together. He was still chanting that
mantra in his head when he went downstairs a few minutes later,
dressed in the navy terry cloth robe she’d left out on the bed. It
was his; obviously, like the flannel shirt, she hadn’t thrown it
away.

She stood by the kitchen window sipping
coffee. He smiled at the picture she made. She wore a long thermal
yellow one-piece pajama thing, so different from the silk of the
night before.

“Hi,” he said softly.

She turned. “Hi.”

He’d slept deeply, but she obviously hadn’t.
There were circles under her eyes and a weariness about her mouth.
He crossed to her. When he reached her, he cradled her cheek in his
palm. “Didn’t sleep?”

Her eyes wide and sad, she shook her head.
“You did, though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Nothing to talk about.
Just a bad night.” She poured him coffee and added some milk. When
she handed it to him, she smiled. It was a strained smile. “What
time do you have to pick Lauren up at Mitch’s?”

“Eleven.”

“Well,” she said, glancing at the clock, “I
have to be at school by ten.”

“School? The day after Thanksgiving?”

“Uh-huh. We’re setting up for the festival on
Saturday.”

“The festival?”

She busied herself like little Suzie
homemaker, straightening the dish towel, wiping up the counter.
“Yes. We started it last year. The festival’s a whole day of
carnival-like activities. Teachers and kids volunteer to man the
booths. The idea is to raise money for the Good Deeds Christmas
project.”

Cautious, he leaned against the counter and
sipped his coffee. “Will you be able to celebrate Lauren’s birthday
with us tonight?”

“No, I don’t think so. I promised to take the
girls out to dinner afterward, and I told Erica we could see a
movie. You know how worried I am about her.”

“What about tomorrow? Will you be busy all
day at this festival?”

“Yes, I think so. It’s, um, been planned for
a long time.”

“And Sunday? Have you found something to do
so you can’t spend the day with me?”

“You’ll be taking Lauren back to—” She
stopped when she must have realized what she’d admitted. Her eyes
flicked guiltily to his. “I’m not searching for excuses.”

He stared at her intently. “Making love with
me scared you last night.”

She nodded, looking so much like a lost
little girl that his heart broke. The sun slanted in through the
blinds, highlighting some red streaks in her hair and accenting her
luminous eyes.

“Why did you do it, then?”

For several seconds she said nothing. Just
watched him. “I wanted to. I remembered what you said, about not
fighting for you before. When Elizabeth barged in, I decided to
fight.”

His smile was loving. “Thank you for
that.”

“I thought I was ready to break the rules,
Kurt.” She turned to rinse out the perfectly clean sink. “But now
I’m confused. And frightened.”

He came up behind her. “Is that why you
cried?” he asked gently.

She shook her head but didn’t face him.

“Zoe?”

At last she pivoted around. His hands loosely
grasped her hips. “I cried because it hit me how much we’d lost.
How much time had passed and how much damage we’d done to what had
once been so perfect.”

“It can be rebuilt.”

“Can it?”

Stark fear hit him like an emotional
sledgehammer. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Now that
he’d had her again, he didn’t think he could let her go.

Again the delay in answering was long and
disconcerting. “No,” she said at last. “I haven’t changed my mind.
But...”

“You don’t trust me yet.”

She was silent for a moment, then said. “All
I know is I’m afraid. I need to step back a bit.”

“I see.” He strode to the counter and picked
up his coffee.

She said, “Look, I have to go shower. I’ll be
late meeting the girls.” As if she knew she was dismissing him, she
added, “Don’t hurry. You can let yourself out.”

He said nothing.

With a torn look, she studied him for a
minute, then headed for the door. When she reached it, he called
out to her. “Zoe?” She turned. “Would it be all right if I attended
the festival tomorrow?”

The flicker of unease in her eyes told him
she didn’t want him there. “Of course. We’re hoping the whole
community comes.”

That zinged his heart. But he only nodded,
and she left then.

He tried to talk himself out of being hurt,
that he’d made more strides, more quickly, than he had any right
to, that she was just trying to protect herself.

But it didn’t work.

She wasn’t the only one who was terrified of
getting hurt in this relationship. Not by a longshot.

FROM HER PUBLIC-RELATIONS booth in one corner
of the gym, Zoe surveyed the Thanksgiving Festival with pride. The
gym was filled with the mouthwatering smells of the freshly baked
goods being sold at the food concession. Several booths lined the
perimeter, some staffed by her kids. Julia, assisted by Rachel,
operated a tarot-card-reading booth decorated with stars and moons.
Julia looked sad today, and last night, too, when Zoe had seen her.
Zoe guessed it had something to do with Dan Caruso.

A giggle drifted from the roped-off area next
to the tarot-cards booth. Zoe smiled at Shelley Marco, who laughed
as Alex Ransom threw her a basketball; they were running a
free-throw game and were shooting some hoops themselves as they
waited for customers.

Across the gym was the children’s area, a new
addition to the festival aimed at enticing parents with small kids.
Dan was patiently helping Josh Taylor make sand art, but both boys
were getting more colored crystals on themselves than in the
bottle. Ashley and Shondra supervised another activity for
youngsters-face-painting. Currently Shondra worked on Alexandra
Lansing, while Johnny held the little girl on his lap. Shondra
laughed girlishly at something Johnny said. Joe Taylor, who was
covering the festival for the
Herald
, looked on.

As she watched them, Kurt entered her
peripheral vision. Though she tried to stop herself from staring at
him, from
drooling
over him, she couldn’t. He’d arrived
with Mitch, Lauren, Johnny and the Lansing girls shortly after the
festival opened at eleven. Leaning against the wall, he sipped
coffee and talked with his daughter.

He was dressed in tan jeans and a light green
chamois shirt she’d bet made his eyes glow like marbles. Where
yesterday morning, fresh from her bed, he’d been rested and happy,
today his shoulders slumped with fatigue. She hadn’t seen him since
she’d left her place yesterday morning.

I want to be cautious.

By closing yourself off so I can’t hurt
you?

Disgusted with herself, she turned away to
fiddle with some papers. She’d never realized she was such a
coward. She’d been totally unable to contain her fear of getting
close to him again. And he’d been hurt. Damn.

Her gaze drifted over to Erica, who was also
working the PR booth. There was another problem. Zoe knew Erica’s
friends were worried about her, too. Julia, especially, had dropped
some broad hints that Zoe should talk to Erica, but when pressed,
Julia wouldn’t come right out and tell Zoe why.

She and Erica had gone to see an old Robert
Redford film last night, then stopped at Pepper’s where they’d
arranged to meet the other girls for something to eat.

Again Erica hadn’t ordered food...

“All right, something’s got to be done about
your not eating,” Zoe had said. “And not sleeping. You know I’m
worried about you.”

Erica had stared at her with sad blue eyes.
“I’m having a rough first semester, is all.”

“Why?”

“I’m worried about getting into Georgetown.
My dad says it’ll be a disgrace if I don’t, since all the Cases
went there.”

“Well, first off, your chances of getting in
are astronomical. And second, you’ve applied to other good Ivy
League schools that have indicated they’d take you in a
minute.”

Erica had only shrugged.

“Look, I know you’re not telling me
everything. And that’s okay. But I think you should talk to a
professional counselor. Dr. Sheffield, maybe.”

“Maybe.” The other kids had come into
Pepper’s then, and she and Erica hadn’t had a chance to resume the
conversation...

“Ms. C?” Zoe turned to face Erica. Today she
wore the deep-rust T-shirt all the workers had donned; it had been
designed, surprisingly, by Dan Caruso. Zoe had had no idea the boy
had artistic talent. The front read, “Be thankful for what you
have.” On the back it said, “And give some of it back to others.”
Children of various ethnic origins composed a sea of faces under
the sentiment.

“You did a good job with the Down to Earth
display, Erica,” Zoe told her.

“Did I?”

Zoe scowled at the unusual lack of
confidence. “Uh-huh.”

The girl scanned the gym. “A lot of people
are here already. Why’d Dr. Lansing come, do you think?”

To see me
. But she didn’t say it.
Again,
coward
came to mind. “Because of his brother. And
his daughter’s visiting for the weekend.”

“She nice?”

“Very.”

“Did you see them this weekend?”

Zoe sighed. “Erica, I don’t really—”

“—want to talk about this. I know. Hey, I
gotta pee. I’m going to the bathroom.”

As Erica trotted away, Zoe had a fleeting
sense of foreboding, and it shook her. Preoccupied with the
feeling, she set out course descriptions and thought about Erica’s
behavior over the past couple of months. Which was why she didn’t
see Kurt approach her table.

“Hi.” The low baritone of his voice curled
through her. She loved how it sounded in the morning—a little
hoarse, a lot sexy. “Hi.”

“This is great” He waved an arm to encompass
the gym.

“Yeah.”

He nodded to the TV. “Down to Earth?” Up
close, his eyes were bloodshot.

“Uh-huh. Franz videotapes it for us every
year.”

Kurt moved in front of the set. He stared at
it as he sipped his coffee. They were as awkward as two strangers
forced to share the same space on a train. She hated this wall
between them, but didn’t seem able to scale it.

He shook his head. “Oh, Lord, is that what I
looked like?”

Zoe turned to the TV. On the screen was Kurt
dangling from the harness. Her breath caught in her throat, just as
it had that day.

“Better not let Bosco see that,” he
joked.

Zoe didn’t respond.

“Zoe?”

She faced him, knowing the color had drained
out of her cheeks.

“Sweetheart, I was okay.”