Authors: Kay Hooper
"Of course not.
And you didn't look at me with bedroom eyes all day. Or call me darling and distract me all to hell."
"Well, if you don't like it-"
"I like it too much, witch, and you know it! But if you don't help me tie down these sails, I may not be a nice guy and let you out of galley duty tonight the way I'd planned."
Robyn promptly went to help him. "I don't have to cook? What did you have in mind? No, don't answer that. I
know
what you have in mind!" She dodged his playfully threatening hand and continued teasingly, "But neither man nor woman lives by shocking the fishes alone. We have to eat."
"We'll shock the fishes
after
we eat. If you ask me nicely, I just might let you watch the master chef at work."
"Doing what?"
"What master chefs do
best.
Grab that line, will you?"
"I will if you'll stop grabbing me!"
"I like grabbing you."
"Really?
I never would have guessed if you hadn't told me.
Now
look what you've done! I only have three buttons left on this shirt,
dammit
."
"Your vamping abilities are coming along nicely."
"Shane!"
The night passed in a dreamy haze as far as Robyn was concerned. Making love under the stars was an experience she would treasure for the rest of her life, and Shane's tenderness seemed to deepen and grow with every passing hour. He made no attempt to hide the awe he felt at the incredible feelings between them, and his openness sparked
an openness
in Robyn that she hadn't known she possessed.
But "tomorrow" inevitably came, and all too soon they were beginning the last leg of their trip only miles out of Miami. The morning slipped past quickly, filled with the laughter and teasing that made Robyn feel as if she'd known Shane for years.
"I feel like the sultan's favorite girl," she grumbled once. "Will you
stop
looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" He was smiling.
"Like you're the sultan!"
"Your lord and master, in fact."
"Gloria Steinem freed the slaves."
"Well, she missed one." He ducked hastily.
"Witch!
You just threw a perfectly good shoe overboard, and I'm not going back for it!"
"That's all right. It was your shoe."
After Shane had wreaked awful vengeance on his unrepentant crew, they got back underway and, since the wind held, rapidly made up for lost time. By the middle of the afternoon, they were almost within shouting distance of Miami.
Robyn fell silent as they neared their destination, feeling fear take hold of her and this time refuse to be shaken loose or pushed away. Shane would race in exactly one week, and she didn't know if she would have the strength to face it.
She had to tell him about Brian's death and her fear of racing. Knowing Shane as she did now, she had no doubts that he would instantly offer to stop racing. And, though that was exactly what Robyn wanted him to do, she couldn't allow it. She had to conquer her unreasonable terror before it spread to other areas of her life and destroyed her. She would not be a coward.
"Robyn."
She looked up quickly from her seat on the bench and saw that Shane was watching her steadily. He held out a hand, and she went to him immediately, sliding her arms around his waist as he drew her close to his side.
"You're nerving yourself up to tell me, aren't you?" he asked quietly, rubbing his chin slowly against her forehead.
Robyn nodded once, listening to the comforting beat of his heart and wishing they could just sail away somewhere and abandon the world.
"We'll work it out, honey." His voice was steady, firm. "We'll take all the time you need and work it out.
Whatever it is."
"I know." She held on to the solidness of his body as if it were a life line. "I know we will." But time, Robyn knew, had nearly run out. If she could face this upcoming race, she could face the rest. And if she couldn't... then no amount of time would help her.
Some time later, they worked together silently tying up the boat in the marina. Then they spent two hours cleaning and leaving everything just as they'd found it. Shane took care of getting rid of the perishable foodstuffs while Robyn neatened the galley and the bathroom. Finally, they gathered their things together and left the boat, Robyn carrying George securely in her arms.
The black Porsche was waiting where they'd left it, and within moments they were on their way to Robyn's house.
She had been aware for some time of the anxiety in Shane's eyes when he looked at her, but she could find no way to reassure him. Thinking of a sunrise and of new beginnings, she watched the sun as it began to lower itself in the western sky.
By the time Shane stopped the Porsche in front of the house, Robyn was strangely calm, ready to rid herself of her last burden of truth. It was time to take the next step.
Shane got her duffel bag out of the car and followed her up the walkway, not pressing for the answers he must have sensed were soon to come.
Marty opened the door just as they reached it, her eyes lighting up when she saw Robyn. The intent glance swept from top to toe, taking in Robyn's golden tan, the neat shorts and knit top, and the quiet glow in her eyes. Then she looked thoughtfully at Shane, standing just behind Robyn with one hand resting almost protectively on her shoulder.
Apparently Marty drew her own conclusions from what she saw. "Welcome back," she said, including Shane in her smile and stepping back to let them come in.
"Hi, Marty."
Robyn kissed her lightly on the cheek as she passed. "Back all safe and sound."
"So I see." Marty lifted a pointed eyebrow at the cat as she shut me door behind them.
"And one more than when you left."
Robyn smiled down at the cat, and then at Marty. "This is our mascot, King George."
"The third," Shane added, setting the duffel bag down by the door.
"The third," Robyn affirmed. "Marty, would you please take him into the kitchen and find him something to eat? Shane and I have to talk for a while."
Marty didn't ask the obvious question of why they hadn't talked on their trip. She simply looked at Robyn for a moment and then calmly accepted the cat and headed for the kitchen.
Robyn turned and reached to grasp Shane's hand.
"There's something I want to show you," she said, managing a smile to ease the anxiety in his eyes.
"I love you, Robyn," he said huskily.
Staring up at him, she realized suddenly that his anxiety was mixed with real fear.
A fear of
her
fear.
He knew only that whatever it was, it was standing between them. And Robyn knew that he was worried about losing her.
She hadn't meant to build this moment of confession into what it had become: something tense and frightening to them both. Somehow, in that moment, his vulnerability sparked a strength and determination in her greater than she had ever known before.
"Shane," she said very quietly, "I've been looking for you all my life. There was a place in me that nobody
saw,
nobody touched-not even me. And then you came, and I was whole, alive, for the very first time. I won't give that up. I won't give you up."
He reached up to touch her cheek lightly with his free hand, and a sigh seemed to come from deep inside him. The emerald eyes flared with that fierce glow. "Show me what it is you're afraid of, love."
Silently, she led him to a closed door across from the den, opened it, and led him inside, closing the door behind them and flipping a switch to light several lamps in the room.
It was a large room, furnished as a formal living room. But the closed draperies and curiously empty scent marked it as a room seldom if ever used. It was a room for guests, for displaying one's pride away from the clutter of everyday life.
Robyn leaned back against the door and watched Shane, vaguely surprised that the room caused her no pain this time, no heartache. It was almost as if someone else's memories were stored here.
Shane stared slowly around the room, his green eyes taking in the trophies, plaques, and medals. He stepped over to a low table, heavy with photographs, and picked
up one framed in silver
. It was of a man, smiling, triumphant, holding a huge silver cup.
A dark-haired man, lean, handsome, with a devil-light of recklessness in his blue eyes.
In a low voice, Robyn said, "Brian's father comes here sometimes. I thought he might be hurt if all this stuff were packed away. So I've kept it in here. And kept the door closed."
Shane looked up to meet Robyn's steady gaze. "
McAllaster
," he murmured. "Brian
McAllaster
. He was your husband."
"Yes. And he was killed in one of those damned cars."
There was a dawning understanding in Shane's eyes as he replaced the photo and stepped toward her. "That's why you didn't want to get involved with me," he said slowly.
She nodded. "I swore to myself after Brian was killed that I'd never again get involved with a man who raced. And then I met you." She stared down at her clasped hands. "Kris told me the next day that you raced. So I... convinced myself that I had pretended you were Brian."
"You lied about that?"
The hope in his voice brought her head up again, and she smiled at him a little sadly. "I lied.
First to myself, and then to you.
I was terrified of loving another reckless man."
"Reckless? Honey-"
Robyn held up a hand to stop him. "Let me explain everything first, all right?" She waited for his nod and then moved over to the couch and sat down. When Shane had taken his place beside her, she half turned to face him and began at the beginning.
"I knew Brian for months before we were married. I knew that he was... obsessed with racing. He didn't have to race to make a living, but he loved the excitement and the danger. He told me it was in his blood, and I believe it was."
She smiled suddenly. "Remember the 'groupies' on Key Largo?"
Shane
nodded,
eyes intent.
"Brian would have eaten that up. He was never happier than when he was surrounded by adoring racing fans."
"But you didn't like it?"
"I wasn't jealous, if that's what you mean. Jealousy over Brian was about as useful as wings on a pig. He just got a kick out of it." Her brief spurt of humor faded, and she frowned slightly. "I told you that there were problems in my marriage; that was one of them. For me to try and tie Brian down was like roping the wind-useless."
"I'm not like that, love," Shane said quietly, reaching out to take one of her hands and hold it firmly.
"You don't have to tell me that." She smiled at him mistily. Then the smile died, and her fingers closed convulsively over his.
"What is it? Tell me what you're afraid of," he begged softly.
Robyn swallowed hard and answered in a low monotone. "I'm afraid of racing, Shane. When I married Brian I was afraid. I thought that I'd learn to deal with it. But the fear grew into terror."
"Did he know?"
"He knew, but he didn't understand. He thought I was exaggerating, that I just wanted him away from the track. So I learned to keep it inside-and died a little every time he raced."
She took a deep breath and went on before Shane could interrupt. "I thought that not knowing what was going on would help, so I stayed away from the track. Hotel rooms in different cities. I didn't watch television; I didn't listen to the radio; I just had nightmares.
Wide-awake nightmares.
So I tried-once- being at the track during a race. But that was worse. I felt sick, shaken. I just couldn't understand what drove Brian to risk death every time he got behind the wheel of that car.
"And it got worse. It reached a point where I couldn't even function when he raced. I just stared at the walls and waited for the phone to ring. And then- that day-something drove me to turn on the television. I saw him crash."
"Robyn-"
"I couldn't look away. The car was rolling over and over, and there was fire... and I knew he was dead. And do you know what the worst part was?" She stared up at Shane with blind eyes. "The worst part was that I was... almost... relieved. It was finished. What I'd been dreading had finally happened, and it was over. I didn't have to be afraid anymore-"
"Robyn!" Shane gripped her shoulders tightly. "Honey, please, stop torturing yourself!"
She blinked at him, and suddenly her eyes were clear again.
"Yesterday morning... when we watched the sunrise?"
Her voice was calm. "I'd had a nightmare. That's why I was up on deck. I dreamed that it was happening again. I was watching it happen. But this time it was you. They pulled you out of that twisted death trap. You were dead."
Robyn drew a long, shuddering breath. "Oh, God, it hurt. It's not possible to hurt that much and go on living..."
"Robyn." Shane's hands lifted to frame her face gently. Unsteadily, he told her, "Honey, I wouldn't hurt you or frighten you for anything in the world. I'll stop racing. I don't need it!"
When he drew her fiercely into his arms, Robyn didn't resist. She clung to him for a long while, listening to his heart hammering beneath her cheek and realizing that he had been as disturbed by the past few minutes as she had.
Oddly, she could feel the remembered pain ebbing away. It might have been because Shane had said he wouldn't race anymore. But she didn't think so. He would race again-at least once more. He would race in the Firecracker 400 at Daytona Beach on July fourth, exactly one week from today.
"Give up something you enjoy just because I'm afraid?" Astonished at how calm her voice was, Robyn gently eased from his loosened embrace and rose to her feet, pacing over to the window before turning to face him. "I can't let you do that."
He got to his feet slowly, staring at her with frowning eyes. "You're more important to me than anything. Racing is just a hobby. I won't miss it."
She folded her arms beneath her breasts and returned his steady look. "And what else will I find to be afraid of?"