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vanished, his pose lost its indolence, and his voice dropped into a
chasm of pain. "Then came the war. Once I took that hit, I wasn't
thinking of sex. I was thinking of surviving. And when I realized
that I would, I began thinking about life itself and the gift that it
was. I began thinking that I owed it to someone upstairs to do
something more than take a cheerleader under the stands during
halftime." He took a deep breath. "Just about then I met Joanna at
the VA hospital. Maybe because of where and why we met, sex was never
one of our big priorities."
Though he'd intimated as much before. Faith had trouble reconciling
the potently masculine man before her with a relationship weak in
sex.
"Did you ever cheat on her?"
"No."
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"Did you ever want to?" "No. Even after I was well, I had other
things on my mind besides sex. I guess that's how it's been ever
since. I have a comfortable life. My work is exciting. I convinced
myself that if there was a right woman for me, she'd come along and I'd
want her, and until that happened, I wasn't going to spend the goods
just for the sake of the spending." He thought back to all he'd
said.
"So yes, I've been without, but no, that's not why it's so strong
between us."
Faith wanted to find a reason. She wanted to put a label on the need
she felt so that it wouldn't be quite so frightening.
"Maybe it's because of last Friday night. We'd been drinking. Our
inhibitions were down. Maybe that set off the need for sex, and maybe
it's the memory of that that's turning us on now."
He doubted that. "If it was so, why would I get horny just thinking
about what's under your sweater?"
"Because you remember Friday night. You remember feeling
satisfaction.
It's the memory that gets you horny. "
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He shook his dark head slowly.
She tried again.
"If it hadn't been for last Friday night, we'd still just be friends.
We'd be laughing and joking the way we always have.
We wouldn't be seeing each other in any kind of sexual way. "
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, irritated that he wasn't
grasping onto her suggestions.
His gaze was direct. He wasn't any more eager to see something
negative in her eyes now than he'd been a little while ago, but he felt
strongly that she should know how serious he was.
"I think last Friday night was the catalyst for something that's very
right."
"You're saying that it was inevitable? Come on, Sawyer."
That wasn't what he'd been saying at all, but the fact that she'd come
up with it was telling. It made a statement as to the direction of her
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own thoughts, and she could deny them until she was blue in the face,
but he wouldn't believe her.
"I think that if last Friday night hadn't happened, we might well have
gone on forever and ever not knowing any better about what could be
between us. But it did happen, and I think it happened because there's
something between us. We could have stopped. Faith. We weren't that
far gone that we couldn't have stopped if there'd been something so
wrong with what we were doing. If we hadn't wanted it, we would have
stopped. If the potential wasn't there, if we weren't attracted to
each other, if we didn't like each other, we'd never have made love, no
matter how much wine we'd had."
She was listening. She didn't rush to argue with what he'd said. That
gave him the courage to go a step further.
"It's not just sex. It's a lot more than that. We share a profession.
We know each other, respect each other. We have fun together--we said
that a whole lot on Friday night, and it's true. We've always had fun
together. So now we desire each other, too, and that takes the
relationship to a different level.
It's the next step in the progression. " He took a slightly shaky
breath.
"I think we have the potential for a really deep thing here."
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Faith sat very still for several minutes. With a swallow, she tore her
eyes from his and focused on the fire, but that didn't seem enough of a
diversion. So she took the sleeping bag from around her shoulders,
unzipped the top and shimmied inside. Moments later she was sitting
cross-legged inside the thing, enveloped by it, looking at the fire
again.
"Faith?"
"I'm a little cold."
That wasn't what he wanted to know.
"Talk to me, Faith."
But it was a minute before she did, and during that time she cursed
herself as a fool for not running to the nearest motel, locking the
door and burrowing in a large, lonesome bed. Then again, she wasn't a
runner--at least she'd never been before--and she didn't like the way
she was doing it now. She wondered if it was time she faced some of
the things that had been hovering at the edges of her mind since Sawyer
had made her his.
Her voice was small, muffled by the sleeping bag she hugged to her
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throat.
"I don't want to be involved in a really deep thing."
He caught both her words and a thread of timidity so uncharacteristic
that his insides clenched. Faith was a woman of strength. He couldn't
fathom the cause of her timidity, didn't like it, resented it.
"Why not?"
"I'm not ready for it."
"You're thirty-three."
"I'm not ready." "Because of what you went through with Jack?"
She didn't answer.
"Faith?"
"I don't know."
"Talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling. Did your marriage to Jack
leave a bad taste in your mouth?"
She thought for a minute.
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"Not really."
The pause worried him. He wondered whether there was more to the story
of her marriage than anyone knew. "Did he hurt you?"
"Hurt me? As in beat? Of course not."
Still her voice lacked its normal zing. She sounded distant, confused,
as though something had indeed happened and she was just now trying to
figure it out.
"What is it?" he coaxed, letting his voice tell her that he wanted to
help. He was still a friend. No matter what else ever happened, he
was still a friend.
Her eyes flicked from the fire to his, and the concern she found there
tore at her.
"Nothing. Really. My marriage was innocuous." But she paused,
disturbed, and focused blindly on the floor. "It was disappointing.
I've told you that. It was just a big fat zero."
"Better a zero than hell, I'd say."
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She didn't smile.
"I'm not sure. It's healthier sometimes to fight than to do nothing at
all. At least that shows some kind of feeling.
But there wasn't any between Jack and me. Not for a long time. "
"And that bothered you."
"Yes, it bothered me. It wasn't the way marriage was supposed to be.
It wasn't the way / wanted marriage to be. "
"How was that?"
"Close. Warm. Fun. Satisfying. Supportive. I wanted my husband to
be my best friend, but he wasn't. We were roommates. Period."
Sawyer was watching her closely, but he couldn't read anything more on
her face than she was saying.
"So you were wrong for each other. We all make mistakes. God only
knows I did. And our clients? Mistakes all the time. So your
marriage didn't work out. That's no reason to punish yourself by
spending the rest of your life alone."
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"I'm not punishing myself."
"What would you call it?"
"Making sure I don't make the same mistake twice."
"That's crazy. Faith. I'm not like Jack."
Abundantly aware of that as she looked at him, she caught in a
breath.
"That's the problem."
He didn't make the connection.
"What do you mean?"
"You're more vibrant than Jack. You're more fun, handsome, ambitious,
interesting, sexy. You're more of just about everything. But I'm
still the same."
He stared at her in confusion before muttering, "I still don't get
it." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]