His expression turned serious. "I'll be honest, Lynn. Sarah is one of the reasons I want you with me. She needs a woman guiding her. But more than that, I want you in my life, in my house and in my bed. What I feel for you is so intense; it goes way beyond my concern for Sarah. Is this love? I don't know. Whatever it is, I've never felt it before."
She gazed at him, searching the soul in his eyes, afraid to believe him. He was willing to trust her with his daughter.
"I need time to think. Let's swim a little, have lunch, and then return to the part where we get to know each other."
He winked at her. "Deal. I'll let you finish the sunscreen on your legs. If I do it, we'll never eat." He walked to the edge of the boat and jumped in the water, deliberately trying to get her wet with the splash.
"You're asking for it, buddy," she yelled, and jumped in after him.
She surfaced, crying, "Wow. I didn't expect the water to be this warm," and swimming over to David, where he floated, relaxed and lazy.
"Give me your hand," he said, reaching for her. They floated together, listening to the waterfall behind them, feeling at peace with the world.
Lynn's mind drifted to the last half hour, finding it hard to believe what she felt; it happened so miraculously. Was it possible, in the space of a few hours, to forget all the fear she had lived with for so long, and actually want sex with a man—to yearn for his arms around her, for him to join with her without feeling dominated and helpless?
Not with any man,
she reminded herself.
With David.
In his arms she felt so safe, so protected and cherished.
Take it easy, girl. You still don't know much about him. You've never seen him angry, or how he handles children. Does he even want children? Go slowly.
"There's some serious thinking going on here," David said. "I can feel the tension in your hand."
"I'm thinking about how fast this attraction between us happened. I'm not the impulsive sort. I need time to think."
He didn't seem upset or impatient. "I suggest we return to our original plan. Get wet, eat, and get to know each other. I'm going to go to the boat and get lunch set up. The ladder is on the other side, when you're ready." He swam away, leaving her with her thoughts.
When she came on board, she was moved by the care he had taken with the preparations. A low table, with cushions for sitting, was readied with a cloth, china luncheon plates, and crystal glasses filled with something bubbly.
"Champagne?"
"No. This is non-alcoholic, so we can keep our wits about us." He winked. She smiled. He had guessed how suspicious she would have been had there been wine.
Teasing, she said, "You do me an injustice, sir. I may not have suspected a hidden agenda."
He merely raised an eyebrow. "Sit. We have my very special chicken salad, toasted bread rounds with goat cheese spread, and for dessert, chocolate strawberries."
"Wonderful. How come you're so enthusiastic about cooking? Was it something your parents encouraged?"
"Afraid not. My parent's ambitions for their only son consisted of a handful of degrees from prestigious universities, a high-paying respectable job that could lead to a Nobel Prize and a political career, and a proper marriage to a well-bred woman whose only career ambition was that of being a female."
The distaste in his voice couldn't be ignored. "I gather you didn't share their vision for your future."
"Exactly. When I made that clear, they disowned responsibility for the whole parent/son thing and took off for Europe. We exchange Christmas Cards."
There was so much bitterness there. She searched for another subject. "How can being female be a career?"
He shrugged. "It's their job. They work ceaselessly to perfect female skills; their time is taken up entirely with concerns about hair, nails, wardrobe, personal trainers, attending the right parties, knowing the right people and sleeping only with men whose portfolios are at least in the eight figures range."
She laughed. "Oh, come on. You can't be that cynical."
He fixed a very serious gaze on her. "Oh, my darling Lynn, one of your most appealing traits is that you have no idea of life in the fast lane, nor do you want to.
"Have another strawberry. We're fast approaching the 'getting to know you' part of the day. I'm going to clean off the table, pack up the stuff and we're going to spend the rest of the time lazing around on the cushions and talking."
She did as he suggested, piling cushions so they could each recline, face one another, and talk. It took all of five minutes before he was back, stretched out, head propped on one hand, facing her.
"You never told me how you got so interested, and, I might add, so skilled, in cooking."
He thought a minute, lips pursed. "A fifteen-year-old boy, attending senior college level classes doesn't get much opportunity to make friends—a skill I never acquired. I still don't have friends, merely a few acquaintances. I lived at home, alone except for servants. My parents fulfilled their duties by hiring a never-ending parade of tutors. I spent time with our French-trained chef who enjoyed mentoring. Cooking became my way of expressing myself. If I like you, I feed you. Ask Sarah about the cookies." He shrugged, looking a little disconcerted for telling her that.
She laughed. "I know about the cookies." Her expression sobered. "There's more, isn't there? You look like you need to confess something. Please don't tell me you're gay—not after the way you kissed me."
He shouted with laughter and pulled her against him.
"No, my burgeoning sex-kitten. I'm not gay." He frowned. "Although, at times, in my twenties, I wondered, because sex wasn't that important to me. I wasn't obsessed with looking for my next lay. That made me unlike most of the men around me.
"I've had a lot of women. It was almost too easy, but the major attraction wasn't me; it was the money. I've always had more than I needed, and that made me wary, and the sexual performance mechanical."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, not letting him get away with that. "You just want me to tell you how handsome you are, and how smooth your moves are. I'm aware of your attitude regarding mercenary women."
"Ouch. I did suspect you of that at one time, and I'm sorry about that." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.
"What I'm trying to say, ineptly as it may sound, is that what I feel for you is entirely new to me. I don't recognize myself. My marriage wasn't a grand passion, but it was okay. Now, I find I'm in a constant state of arousal because you're always on my mind. I don't remember this happening even when I was a teenager."
Lynn was dumbstruck. She suspected—incredible as it may be—that David had doubts about his prowess as a lover.
To her eyes, he was perfect—stunningly handsome in a rugged, masculine way, his body a powerful turn-on for her. His hands had a gentle strength that made her long to be touched, and he smelled delicious.
"I think," she said, after a moment's thought, "we both want love, and passion, but we're not sure we can have it."
He looked at her with such tender affection it brought tears to her eyes. An impulse grabbed her. "Hold still," she said, "I'm going to kiss you."
The idea came out of nowhere—a fanciful thought from some other person inside her. The person who'd been there all along, but had been kept firmly hidden from even herself? Possibly, because at this moment she knew she had to feel David's lips on hers, feel his body pressed to hers, and feel his yearning match hers in its intensity. She pushed him to his back and leaned over him, reveling in the freedom to be reckless.
"Close your eyes." When he did, she gently nibbled his lower lip, and then licked the spot she bit. Her lips brushed his cheeks, kissed his closed eyelids gently, playfully, and then returned to his mouth, where she kissed him deeply.
He shuddered, returning the kiss, his tongue demanding entry. It felt so good. Her hands tangled with the hair on his chest and brushed his nipples. He groaned. Satisfaction surged through her, making her cling to his shoulders, trying to get closer, finding joy in freedom from fear.
"God, Lynn." He pulled the straps of her suit down, exposing her breasts. "Beautiful, so beautiful," he murmured, his lips following the curve to her nipple, which he took into his mouth, sucking gently.
"David," she cried out, feeling a rush of moist heat between her legs. The sensation of his arousal, hot, hard, and excitingly large, pressed against her pubic bone, brought with it a flash of reality. He was over the edge—way beyond it.
"What, my beautiful girl? What do you want?"
"My suit. Take it off. I want to feel you."
He made quick work of hers and his own.
"Oh, David," she cried, afraid to say it aloud. "Make love to me." It was brazen. Sinful. Respectable women didn't lose control this way.
"I know what you want. Me inside you. Us, together as close as two people can be."
She should be panicked—calling a halt—but all she could think of was taking his manhood in her hand, exploring its feel and texture.
Ohmigod.
How she wanted him. Her hands reached for him.
This was David. He wasn't going to hurt her. She could have the intimacy she realized she had been craving for years and not had the courage to pursue—until this man. It could only happen with this man. He was the one she'd waited for.
"Yes, please. I want you now. Make love to me. I don't want to wait." Her insides were clenching. Something that felt incredibly good was happening.
He grew still. Frozen. Her breath caught. "Love me," she pleaded, grasping his hips with her hands, pulling him closer, her arousal out of control.
"Wait," he said.
Dimly at first, then with increasing awareness, she realized something was wrong. He was backing away from her, rising to his feet, his hands on his head.
"Oh, God, Lynn. I'm sorry. We have to stop."
"You don't want me?" she asked, her voice a whisper
"Honey, you don't understand. I didn't think we'd go this far, and I don't have any protection. You could get pregnant and that isn't fair."
"Oh." It was worse than she imagined. He didn't want her, and he didn't want any complications.
"Lynn, sweetheart, I want to make love to you as badly as you want it. Simply put, I didn't bring any condoms."
"Oh," she said. She had never even given pregnancy a thought. Although she wouldn't have minded, really. The struggle to get a grip on her emotions cost her. She stood on one foot, struggling to get into her shorts. He had thought enough of her to stop.
"I think we'd better get back," she said. It was an emotionally charged situation for the both of them.
"I'm sorry again, Lynn." He ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture fraught with frustration. He didn't speak and she had nothing more to say.
Quietly, they gathered up the rest of the picnic gear and headed for the dock.
~ * ~
On the drive back to town, David tried to get her to talk to him, but she huddled against the passenger door, as far away as she could get, ignoring his concerned looks, not answering his plea to tell him if she was all right. She couldn't trust herself to answer without tears. She'd led him on by wanting him so much. When he thought about it, she'd never see him again.
When he dropped her off, she gave him a watery smile as he said, "Lynn, we can't leave things like this. It's not what you think. You have to give me a chance to explain. I'll call you tonight."
"David, it isn't necessary, really." He hated the tears in her voice, blaming himself. "It's been a learning experience for me, and I'm embarrassed enough as it is."
He drove off. This wasn't over, by god.
She is the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with, whatever it takes.
David pulled into a parking space several blocks from his house, seeking some privacy to think before he arrived home and had to confront Sarah's curiosity.
He could only pray it wasn't as bad as he suspected. Lynn's devastated expression, after he'd called a halt to their passionate interlude by pulling away from her, haunted his mind. All the life went out of her. The way she drew into herself, shivering and hugging her arms, indicated her vulnerability. He realized that now and she wouldn't let him near her.
Fear, dread, and despair clouded his mind.
She had been so close to completion, reaching for it. In another minute she would have soared, in my arms, for the first time in her life.
But he had pulled away—left her hanging. What must she have felt? He was not even sure if she understood what had almost happened. What a frustrating mess for them both!
She didn't believe that business about getting her pregnant. You were scared, too. You'd never lost it like that with a woman and it scared the shit out of you. You've always been the one running the show. She had lost herself in the moment, giving you more than she had ever given any man, laying her soul bare, and
you
had stopped.
The devastated expression on her face told him the exact moment she had felt out of control and vulnerable to him. Guilt overwhelmed him. That was not how he had planned for their first intimate time together to be.
I should have known. She'd not been touched by a man in ten years, and was plagued with nightmare memories of the last time. I knew that. Truth is, I panicked when I lost control. That had never happened to me before. I have to find a way to fix this. I have to explain what happened to me.
Despondent, he started the truck and headed home, trying to convince himself that he could make be okay.
For once in your life you're going to have to find the words, when you call her tonight, to ask for her forgiveness.
Sarah, Logan and the three kids who had been with her at school yesterday, were sitting on the porch, each with a Pepsi and cookies when he arrived. Sarah looked happier than he'd seen her since the move here. She was laughing at something the girl—Karen?—was saying, while Logan watched her with such joy on his face; even with a shiner, his validation of devotion. Lynn had the right of it. The connection between the two was evident.