The Long Road Home (19 page)

“No. It’s not like her, is it?” he mused slowly, his lips twisting sardonically. “But I’m beginning see. She never planned on being here tonight. It’s obvious she wants us back together again, don’t you think?”

Her face burned. Why did he have to show up here, ask leading questions and throw her quiet evening into a maelstrom of confusion?

Just then the oven’s buzzer went off, saving her from a reply. “Oh shoot, my pizza! Come in. I need to get my dinner before it burns.”

She hurried into the kitchen, grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out the pizza. She’d just made it. The edges were a golden brown, and the cheese bubbled, its aroma drifting upward, teasing her nostrils and stomach.

“Smells good.”

She turned to find him leaning a hip against the counter next to her. His shoulder brushed her arm as he leaned forward and sniffed in appreciation.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

Politeness forced her to say, “There’s more than enough for two.”

He hesitated, measuring her for a moment. “Sure. I can’t turn down pizza, even the frozen variety.”

Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. If she had known he would accept, she never would have asked. “Then, just give me a second to change.”

Hurrying into her room, she searched the closet and groaned at the lack of selection. Jeans. She was sick of them. Ignoring the mild twinges of pain in her knee, she struggled into a pair. Then she picked a chocolate blouse, a frilly confection with ruffles that cuffed the wrists and neck and made her feel feminine. The color pulled out the white-gold highlights in her hair. Years of being behind the camera had her automatically grabbing her make-up case and hurriedly applying mascara and foundation.

Staring at her reflection, she saw the need in her wide, green eyes. She wanted John to find her attractive. She wanted his eyes to light up with desire. She wanted...

Sighing, she turned away.

When she entered the kitchen, John glanced up from the bottle in his hands. He stilled. The heat in his eyes warmed her cheeks. She could not, would not stymie the thrill his look gave her.

A slow, sensual smile curved his lips. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You don’t look half-bad yourself.”

His lips quirked. “Shall we eat and forget about Laura’s little matching-making attempt?”

“Please.”

“Hope you don’t mind?” He held up the wine bottle. “I found it already opened in the refrigerator.”

“No. Not at all.”

Taking two goblets from the cupboard, she followed him into the dining room. He placed the pizza atop a warming pan to one side of the table.

He had already set the table and somehow managed to find matches. The centerpiece of three candles, all varying sizes, flickered across the polished surface of the walnut table. Seeing the romantic setting, Clarisse paused and glanced at John seated across the table. The lighting played across the bold lines of his face, amplifying his cheekbones and square jaw. He looked sexy, dangerous and somehow untouchable. And Clarisse wondered what she was getting herself into. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

He looked up and caught her staring. He grinned. The smile softened his face, and he looked far more approachable, even sexier—if that were at all possible.

“So, how is Laura holding out?”

She relaxed under the impersonal question. “She’s getting nervous. There are still so many preparations. Marriage is a big step for anyone.”

“Yes it is. But something must be right with it, if people keep on doing it.”

“You haven’t tried it yet.” Oh hell! Where did that come from?

His lips tightened. “And neither have you.”

“I’ve never been asked.” Oh please! She couldn’t control her tongue.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” His brow rose in inquiry, and his expression cooled.

She laughed with difficulty. “Why, nothing. It’s just a comment.”

For the remainder of their meal, they ate in silence. Then John joined her in the kitchen to help with the dishes. His large frame filled the room and seemed to be everywhere—to her left, her right, behind her, pressing in on her from all sides. His nearness frayed her composure, quickened her pulse, and pulled at her heart.

Placing a glass on the counter, John brushed the tip of her breast with his arm. The plate in her hand slipped and crashed to the floor. Mumbling under her breath, she bent down and picked up the broken shards. A piece bit into her finger.

“Ouch!” She pulled back, almost relieved at the pain. It blocked the attraction swelling within her. A small bead of blood formed at the tip of her thumb.

“Let me see.”

“It’s nothing.”

She hurried to the trash bin and tossed in the pieces, but John followed relentlessly. He grasped her wrist and gently but firmly pulled until she yielded.

Frowning, he looked down at her wound. “It’s just a small cut,” she insisted, watching his bent head with fascination. “Little more than a nick.”

Beneath the florescent light his hair shown like the blue-black of a raven’s wing. It would be so tempting to reach down and twine her fingers through those silken strands.

He glanced up and caught her staring. Desire flared in his eyes, darkening them to near black. “I love it when you look at me that way.”

“What way?” she whispered.

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

She inhaled sharply. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure? That’s what you said last time, and I proved you wrong.”

Hypnotized, she watched him slide her thumb between his lips. His teeth grazed her skin, then his mouth closed over her finger, scalding her with its heat. Her heart fluttered wildly.

“Don’t...” she cried in a choked whisper, feeling the erotic caress of his tongue against her wound.

Still holding her gaze, he withdrew her thumb from his mouth. “I’d like to do more than that with my mouth. I want to kiss your lips, your neck, your breasts—”

“Please.” She didn’t know whether she was pleading for him to stop or continue.

He unchained her wrist. But desire froze her in place and stole any protest from her lips. Gripping her upper arm, he urged her closer. Her breasts pressed against his unyielding chest, while his head inched lower, stopping mere centimeters from her lips.

“You do want me to kiss you, don’t you?” With each word, his mouth grazed her own.

“Yes,” she breathed, parting her lips.

The pressure of his mouth eased open her lips. He teased and taunted her with what was to come. Frustrated, Clarisse cupped his jaw with both hands and deepened the kiss. She wanted him, his touch, his mouth, the feel of his skin against her hands.

Groaning deep in his throat, John swept her in his arms and passionately returned her kiss. His hands roamed over her spine and shoulders and up into her hair. Then he opened her blouse with nimble fingers and unhooked the front clasp of her bra. She shuddered with anticipation as he pressed her backward, trapping her against the counter and his hips.

Clarisse freed the top two buttons of his shirt with shaky, almost clumsy hands. Her fingers slipped beneath the material and glided over his muscled shoulders. His skin rippled and warmed beneath her touch.

Grabbing her waist, he picked her up and placed her on the counter. His large hands spread her thighs wide, then cupped her buttocks. He arched over her, molding his hips between her legs. Digging her fingers into his shoulder, she gasped at the image he released. Naked flesh, damp skin, John straining over her.

“You’re so beautiful.” His breath fanned the hair by her temple. “All feminine curves. I want your legs around me. Those beautiful legs of yours. I’ve dreamed of them.”

“My legs?”

“Hmm...” He nibbled along the curve of her neck. “You were famous for those damn legs of yours. So long...incredibly long. And sexy. A man could lose himself with them wrapped around him.”

His words were like sheets of ice cutting into her heart. Desire vanished and her mind cleared. “Are they that important?”

“Of course—” His mouth trailed down her neck and over her collarbone, while his hands caressed her breasts, cupping their weight and grazing their tips with both thumbs.

She shuddered and closed her eyes against the hunger John was rekindling. He wasn’t even listening.

She was a fool. How could he see beyond her disfigurement when his career—most of his adult life—was founded by image?

She dragged in a painful breath as John’s mouth closed over the peak of one breast, scorching her, tearing at her soul. “No!”

When he didn’t draw away immediately, she slammed her palms against his chest. “Get off!”

He stumbled back. “What—”

“Get off me.”

He stared back. “Get off you?”

“Yes,” she hissed, pulling her shirt closed with trembling hands.

“Get off you?” Rage flared in his eyes. “You’re making me sound like some damn animal.”

“I made a mistake.”

“One second you’re hot and ready to rip my clothes off and the next you’re saying it was a mistake? Just like that?” He glared at her with accusing eyes. “Since when did you become a tease?”

Her chin inched upward. “Please leave. I don’t want to start a fight.”

“No, of course not. Then that would mean you cared.” He adjusted his collar with a jerk. “Don’t worry, I’m out of here. He stormed from the room. Burying her head in her hands, she heard the front door open and close. Then silence, thick and profound, encased her. John didn’t know it, but when he left, part of her heart went with him.

****

“You look beautiful,” Clarisse announced proudly, meeting Laura’s eyes in the full-length mirror.

Laura pivoted right then left. The large folds of white satin and lace rustled and swirled about her ankles. Frowning, she plucked at the pleated waist of her wedding gown. “I hope Darren will think so.”

“Of course he will.”

Laura turned from her reflection and smiled. “You don’t look bad yourself. That is, for an obnoxious older sister. That deep emerald gown sets off your complexion and blonde hair. Everyone’s going to be looking at you instead of me.”

“Hardly.” Catching the anxiety in her sister’s smile, Clarisse squeezed her hand. “No need to be nervous. Today’s your wedding day, and everything’s going to be perfect.”

Exhaling loudly, Laura paced the middle of her burgundy and gold, Victorian styled bedroom. “It’s not the wedding, but what comes after that scares me.”

Clarisse’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re not talking about the wedding night, are you?”

“Of course not, you dolt!” Laura snorted in disgust. “I’m talking about after that. The whole thing is such a big commitment. We’re talking forever here. At least that’s the general plan.”

Clarisse didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have the experience to help. So far, she hadn’t gotten as far as an engagement ring.

Laura shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m complaining. I’ve got the man I’ve been wanting since I first set eyes on him—” She groaned and gave Clarisse a sad, little smile. “I’m sorry. This is the happiest day of my life, and I know you must be hurting inside. You and John are still far from getting back together.”

“Here we go again!” She nearly growled in frustration. “There’s nothing between us. There never will be. It’s over. Over. Period. Do you have that? Or would you like to me to spell it out for you?”

Laura snorted. “Don’t give me that! I saw the way you were when you first got into town. All haunted looking. And as for the day I went to the movies, your mouth’s been clamped shut as to what went on. That’s a sure sign
something
happened.” She rolled her eyes. “If you just told him the truth, he’d understand. He might be angry at first, but he’d get over it.”

“He’s got a girlfriend.”

Laura waved a hand in dismissal. “A mild inconvenience.”

“Just drop it!”

The door opened and their mother popped her head around the corner. “Are you both ready?” Sudden tears welled in Glenda’s eyes. “Oh...you both look so beautiful. I can’t believe my little girl is getting married.”

Glenda hugged Laura to her breast, sniffing loudly.

“Oh, Mom.” Laura winked at Clarisse. “It’s not like I’m leaving the country.”

“Well still, it’s the principle.” She drew away and pushed a short, gray curl from her cheek. “The car’s out front if you’re ready.”

Clarisse took one last look in the mirror. A tortoise shell comb with baby’s breath pulled her hair into a tight chignon. The hairstyle emphasized the long sweep of her neck and curve of her shoulder. She didn’t like the large luminous quality to her eyes or the faint circles beneath them. But too many sleepless nights were bound to affect her appearance.

She followed her parents and sister from the house and into the limousine rented for the occasion.

Outside the church door, Glenda paused by Clarisse. “You hardly have any color in your face. Are you sure you shouldn’t have brought a cane?”