Lost in His Arms (9 page)

As the kiss deepened, he ran his hands up beneath her sweatshirt, wanting, needing to touch her silky skin. And it was silky, and warm and smooth. The skin on her back beckoned him to explore further.

Their breathing became more rapid, he could feel the racing of her heart, matching the speed of his. The intensity nearly stole his breath away.

His hands moved from her back to her sides, where he felt her rib cage beneath his fingertips. Up they swept, until they encountered the elastic band of her bra.

She gasped as his hands moved over her breasts. And through the lace and silk of her bra, he could feel the pebble hardness as her nipples rose in response.

Out of control. Someplace in the back of his mind, he knew he was out of control. For the first
time in his life, he wasn't considering consequences or thinking about tomorrow. He was thinking only of this moment and this woman. Elizabeth. Sweet Elizabeth. Strong Elizabeth.

He wanted to lay her down in the sweet-smelling grass, take her clothes off slowly and reveal the charms of her body. He wanted to make love to her, possess her as no other man ever had.

The thought sent ice through his veins. The icy waters of reality. Disgust roared through him—disgust for his desire, disgust for himself.

He dropped his hands, broke the kiss and stepped back from her. She looked as beautiful as he'd ever seen her, with her lips reddened from his kisses, her hair tousled by his fingers and the wind, and her eyes deepened by a hazy fog of desire.

He drew a breath and raked a hand through his hair. “It's obvious there's some sort of chemistry at work between us,” he said, irritated that his voice sounded slightly unsteady. “I'm not going to lie, Elizabeth. I want you. I want you in my arms…in my bed. I have never in my life wanted a woman as much as I want you.”

Her eyes flared at his words, but she said nothing.

“Don't mistake what I'm saying. I want you, but it's strictly a physical want. And I am not about to jeopardize my relationship with my brother or his mental well-being for a brief fling with you.”

He saw the hurt that his words inflicted, but he
had to make certain this didn't happen again. He knew if he found her in his arms one more time, he wouldn't be able to stop before a dreadful mistake was made.

“It's pure lust, Elizabeth, and I don't trust myself when I'm around you,” he said as he remounted his horse. “After Richard's surgery, I think it's best if we don't see each other again.”

He didn't wait for her reply, but instead, took off at a gallop and didn't look back.

He rode hard and fast, with the cool autumn air slapping him in the face, trying to outrun the desire that still heated his blood, that still coursed through his veins.

Elizabeth. Her name was a curse on his lips, in his heart, as he pushed the horse faster and faster. Two more days, he told himself. He would only have to be around her for two more days, then they would never have to see each other again.

It was nearly noon when Talbot finally returned to the house. He took a quick shower, dressed, then headed out for the offices in Topeka.

He could lose himself in work, had done it a hundred times in the past. As long as he had McCarthy Industries, the legacy from his father, he didn't need anything or anyone else.

He worked through dinner, grabbing a sandwich from a vending machine and eating at his desk. He
continued to work into the evening hours, reluctant to go home.

Darkness had long fallen when he finally left the building and got into his car to head back to Morning View. Instantly, the dark reminded him of Elizabeth.

He thought of her as a five-year-old, torn away from everything she had ever known, without the comfort of family. He wished he could have been there for her. He wished he'd known her when she'd been five, wished he'd known her all her life.

Turning on the radio, he filled the interior of the car with raucous rock and roll, hoping to make thought impossible. He kept the radio blaring until he pulled into the driveway of his home.

There was only one light burning in the house—the light in the living room. The rest of the house was dark, and he hoped everyone was asleep. He didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone.

Quietly, he let himself in the front door and instantly heard the soft murmur of voices coming from the living room. He recognized the voices. Elizabeth and Richard.

He peered into the living room and his heart seemed to stop. They stood together in front of the window, their arms wrapped around each other in an embrace. He couldn't hear the words they spoke to each other; in truth, he didn't want to hear.

As Talbot watched his brother stroke her tawny hair, a horrible knowledge exploded in Talbot's chest.

Talbot realized he was in love with Elizabeth.

“P
romise me,” Richard said to Elizabeth as he broke the embrace.

Elizabeth had been on her way to bed when she'd seen Richard sitting alone in the living room. She'd come in to see if he was all right. He'd apparently just needed to talk. They'd talked briefly about their marriage, spoken in depth about Andrew and touched on the surgery.

“What?” She stepped away from him.

His brown eyes peered intently into hers. “Promise me we'll always be friends. It's important to me, and I think it's important to Andrew.”

“That's a promise that's easy to keep,” she assured him.

“Even if one or both of us remarry, we'll still be
friends.” Elizabeth nodded and he continued. “And promise me one other thing. If something happens during the surgery, tell Andrew I was a great guy. Tell him I was brave and strong and that I loved him more than anything on earth.”

Tears burned at Elizabeth's eyes. She dashed them away. “Nothing is going to happen during the surgery except that the doctor is going to get that tumor out of your head,” she said firmly. “Besides, I don't have to tell Andrew those things. He already knows them.”

Richard flashed her a bright smile. “Thanks, Elizabeth.”

She nodded. “And now I'd better get upstairs and tuck Andrew in. He never goes to sleep until I kiss him good-night.”

Elizabeth found her son just the way she'd expected to find him. In bed, but not asleep. He sat up as she entered the room. “I thought maybe you forgot about me.”

She smiled and sat on the edge of his bed. “Not a chance. You doing okay?” She smoothed a strand of hair away from his forehead.

“Sure.”

“Are you going to be all right here tomorrow when we leave for Kansas City?” Elizabeth and Richard had agreed that the best plan of action was for Andrew to remain here in Morning View with Rose until after the surgery was finished and Richard
was in recovery. The morning after the surgery, Elizabeth would drive back here to retrieve her son.

“Yeah. Rose is gonna teach me how to cook some good stuff. I want to learn how to bake a cake for when Dad gets better.”

“That would be nice.” Elizabeth leaned down and kissed her son's cheek.

“And you'll call me from the hospital as soon as Dad is out of surgery?”

“I promise,” she replied.

His big brown eyes gazed at her soberly. “Will you promise me that he's going to be all right?”

Elizabeth's heart ached at her son's question. She desperately wished she could make this promise to him, but she knew better. She remembered what she'd told Talbot and now repeated the words to her son.

“Honey, there are some things you can't promise. I'm not the one in control of this. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “I said a prayer for Dad.”

“That's all we can do,” Elizabeth replied. Once again she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Now, you get a good night's sleep.”

As she left her son's bedroom, tears once again burned in her eyes. She'd been on the verge of an emotional meltdown all day long, ever since that moment Talbot had jumped on his horse and ridden away from her.

She went into her bedroom and closed the door, fighting the wave of emotion that threatened to consume her.

Between the trauma of Richard's imminent surgery and the shock and confusion of those moments with Talbot in the early-morning sun, she felt ridiculously fragile and overwhelmed at a time when she needed her strength most.

Richard and his needs were now pretty much out of her hands. Tomorrow they would check him into the hospital, and first thing the next morning he would go into surgery. There was nothing more she could do to help him prepare for what was ahead.

And there was nothing she could do to help Talbot. As she undressed and pulled on her cotton nightgown, her body burned with the memory of his touch, the fire in his kiss.

“I have never in my life wanted a woman as much as I want you.”
His words haunted her, fired a flame inside her she feared would never be doused. She crawled into bed, aided by the glow of the night-light he'd bought her.

And she had never in her life wanted a man as much as she wanted Talbot. Had he wished, he could have taken her right there in the grass, with the morning sun beating down on them. She would have eagerly succumbed to the heat of his hands and the magic of his kiss.

Even though he'd told her it was nothing but lust,
she still wanted him. She wanted him because she loved him.

She sat straight up, her heart pounding with the realization. She loved Talbot. She loved him with all her heart and all her soul.

She had no idea when the love had first occurred, how long she'd hidden the truth of her feelings for him from herself. But there was no hiding now. Her love for him was an ache inside her, a torment for which there was no relief.

He'd said he wanted her, lusted for her, but he hadn't mentioned love. And even if he had, what would be the point?

Even though she knew without a doubt that she and Richard would share no future together other than in the raising of their son, how would Richard react if his ex-wife became involved with his brother?

Tomorrow they would take Richard to the hospital, and the next day he would have his surgery. And after that she and Talbot would have no reason to ever see each other again.

It was best that way. Best that she forget the gentle heat of his touch, the fiery flames of his kiss.

She turned onto her side and squeezed her eyes tightly closed, blocking out the glow of the night-light and trying desperately to block out the glow of the newly recognized love in her heart.

At noon the next day, they set off on the drive to
Kansas City. Elizabeth insisted on following the two men in her own car, preferring her isolation and knowing she'd need to drive herself back to Morning View after the surgery to collect Andrew.

She followed them directly to the hospital, where it took only a few minutes to get Richard checked into a room. After seeing that he was settled and comfortable, Elizabeth left, promising to return early the next morning.

She felt no sense of homecoming or welcome when she walked into her apartment. The place felt cold, empty and achingly lonely.

The evening hours crept by. She called Andrew and talked with him until he got bored, then called Richard and spoke with him. They talked of the future, about Andrew growing and Richard being there to share in his adult years.

She was pleased to hear the ring of optimism in Richard's voice and was grateful he seemed to be approaching the surgery in good spirits.

A prayer for Richard's well-being was on her lips as she got into bed that night. As she waited for sleep to claim her, she wondered where Talbot was spending the night.

If things had been different between them, had their relationship been a normal one of ex-brother and sister-in-law, she might have offered him the use of Andrew's room for the night.

But with the situation between them as volatile as
it was, the last thing she could do was actively seek time alone with him. It was bad enough she would be spending the hours of the surgery with him.

She desperately wished she could go to sleep tonight loving him and awake the next morning with all love gone from her heart. No lingering effects, no residual pain, just a quick and easy sleep fix against the addiction of love.

A rueful smile curved her lips. If she could figure out a cure for love, she'd be the heroine of unhappy lovers everywhere and wealthy beyond her wildest imaginings.

Instead, she had to figure out how to forget Talbot. And best to forget that the man she'd fallen in love with was the one man she would never, ever have.

 

Talbot had never known the minutes in an hour could move so slowly. He paced the small confines of the waiting room, trying desperately to ignore Elizabeth, who was the only other occupant at the moment.

He looked at his watch and sighed. Richard had been in surgery less than two hours. And the doctor had told them the surgery would last from five to six hours. It was going to be one hell of a long day.

“I'm going down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee,” he said. “You want to come?”

He half hoped she said no. They had not spoken
more than two words to each other since they'd arrived at the hospital just after six that morning. They'd sat in Richard's room until he'd been wheeled away, then they'd moved to the waiting room.

She stood. “Yes, I'd love a cup of coffee.” Her gaze didn't quite meet his.

Together they left the waiting room and headed for the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria in the basement.

Talbot steeled himself against her invasion of his senses as they stood in the small enclosure of the elevator. The sweet scent of her seemed to call to him, but he fought the temptation she represented. She looked beautiful, cheerful and bright in a royal-blue dress that did amazing things to her eyes.

He frowned. Seeing her and Richard standing together in an embrace the night before had reminded him just how important it was that he stay away from her. Richard obviously needed her. It didn't matter if Richard wanted a second chance at their marriage. He needed her in his life, and Talbot couldn't, wouldn't interfere.

They reached the cafeteria, where she got a cup of coffee and a bagel, and he got coffee and a muffin. They found a table and sat across from each other.

He took a sip of his coffee and eyed her thoughtfully.

Yes, she was beautiful, but he couldn't help but notice the faint shadows beneath her eyes.

“You look tired,” he said.

She smiled wearily. “I am tired. I'm tired in my body and tired in my mind.” She sighed and tore off a tiny piece of bagel. “To say these last few days have been stressful is an understatement. But you must be tired, too.”

“I am,” he said grudgingly. He didn't want to feel the same things she did, didn't want the intimacy of experiencing the same emotions. He was not only tired in his body and mind, he was weary in his soul.

He hadn't realized before now that he believed in true love, in soul mates. He hadn't realized the flicker of hope that had always been with him—the hope that eventually he would find his one true love and live happily ever after.

The knowledge that he'd found that love with the one woman he couldn't have hurt more than he'd ever thought possible. He felt as if he'd lost something—before he'd ever really found it.

“Richard seemed to be in wonderful spirits this morning,” she said, pulling him from his thoughts.

He nodded. “We had a long talk last night, and once this surgery is behind him, apparently he intends to make some big changes.”

“Changes?” She frowned. “What kind of changes?”

“First of all, he no longer intends to work for McCarthy Industries.” She looked as shocked as Talbot had felt the night before when Richard had told him how much he hated what he did for a living.

“Really? What does he want to do?”

Talbot paused and took a sip of the strong coffee. “He isn't sure. He wants to go to college, see what options are available.” He hesitated a moment, unsure if he wanted to confess what else Richard had told him.

“I'm shocked,” she exclaimed. “He's worked for you since we got married. He never breathed a word about being unhappy.”

Talbot sighed. “I think he's been unhappy for a very long time. He told me last night that he's always hated working for me. He figures the only reason he was hired was because he was a McCarthy. He also wants to get his own apartment, is tired of living with me and not having to be responsible for himself. I've carried him for too long, made life too easy for him.”

Elizabeth stared at him. “And now you're carrying a wealth of guilt thinking that maybe Richard's immaturity has been your fault all along.”

Talbot didn't reply, although she'd nailed his feelings square on the head. To his immense surprise, she laughed. “I certainly don't know what you find
amusing,” he said, forcing all the coolness he could into his voice and his expression.

She further surprised him by laughing once again. “You used to be able to intimidate me with that cold, arrogant tone and expression, but you can't anymore. And I find it amusing that I struggled with the same issues last night after going to bed. Worrying that it was all my fault that Richard hadn't grown up while we were married. We're far too much alike, Talbot. We want to take all the credit when things are good, and want all the blame when things are bad. You become selfish when you're used to being alone for so long.”

He straightened, wanting to deny that he was selfish, wanting to deny that they were anything alike. She held up a hand to stop whatever he wanted to say.

“Stop beating yourself up, Talbot. You're a good man, and you did the best you could, just as I did. It's time to let go and allow Richard the freedom to make his own way in life, the freedom to succeed or fail.”

She said all the words he'd told himself but had needed to hear from another. Again he was struck by the knowledge that had the situation been different, they might have melded and become one heart.

He stood abruptly, afraid to spend any more time with her, afraid if he did, he might speak of the love that burned in his heart. And by verbalizing his feel
ings for her, he feared he'd give a piece of himself away—a piece he would never be able to retrieve.

He would ruin things with his brother, who needed all the love and support Talbot could offer.

“I need to go for a walk,” he said. Without waiting for her to reply, he strode away.

 

Elizabeth watched him go, wondering why it seemed that lately she was always left staring at his back.

She took a sip of her coffee, their brief conversation replaying in her mind. What she'd wanted to say to him was that it was impossible to be intimidated by a man who had held her through the long hours of a dark night. It was impossible to feel intimidated by a man who had remembered her fear and bought her a night-light. Finally, it was impossible to be intimidated by the man she loved.