Page 99 of Distant Shores

"Im a little drunk," he said. He thought maybe hed whispered the confession.

She moved in close to him.

He felt her small, lithe body pressing against his, and he groaned, realizing suddenly how lonely hed been in the last few weeks.

"Sally . . . " He didnt know what to say, what to ask for. All he knew was that his head was swimming and his dick was rock-hard. He could feel the blood draining out of his brain.

But he tried. Excuses and reasons staggered through his quickly shrinking brain. He had stumbled onto Wait, Sally when she kissed him.

That was the end of even pseudo-rational thought. When her lips touched his, he was lost. Time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time.

He gave in; it was that simple. In some distant, hazy part of his mind, he knew he was doing a swan dive out of a high-rise building, but he couldnt make himself care. For months--years, really--hed been holding himself in check, keeping steady to the vows hed made to Elizabeth.

But now she was living in Oregon and shed made it very clear that she didnt want him. Nothing had ever hurt like admitting that.

Sally gazed up at him, her eyes dark with the same runaway passion that was making his dick ache. "Well?"

His mouth was dry--it only made him think of places that were wet. "You know Im still married," he said, feeling that sentence was a personal triumph of self-control.

"Of course I know. I dont want your ring. " Smiling slowly, she reached down into his pants. "Ill take this instead. "

Jack couldnt help himself. He moved into her hand. He felt the top button on his pants pop free, felt the warm pressure of her fingers against his flesh.

He started to speak--although what he would say he couldnt imagine--

"Take me to bed," she whispered.

Four little words that were his undoing.

TWENTY-THREE

Elizabeth finished the day on autopilot. As shed defrosted the chicken and started the casserole, shed thought, Exhibit. My work.

Shed already browned the chicken and chopped the onions when she realized she was cooking for her old life. It was a chicken casserole that would easily feed eight people.

Once the meal was in the oven, she went into the pantry and pulled out the seascape. She would finish by tomorrow morning, and then start something else.

Maybe shed try a watercolor next. In the old days, shed loved oils, but she was older now. The smeary softness of watercolor appealed to her. And more important, she had a limited amount of time. Shed be more likely to make her five-works-by-the-festival deadline if she didnt work in oil.

She thought she heard a car drive up. Then a door slam.

Maybe Meghann had cleared her schedule and headed south for a girls weekend.

Elizabeth hurried to the door and flung it open.

Anita stood there, wearing a flowing white dress and pink ballet slippers. A floppy purple hat covered much of her face. Beside her was a huge suitcase and a long, narrow cardboard box. A lime green taxi drove away. "Hey, Birdie," she said, smiling uncertainly, "this is the beach I picked. "

Elizabeth didnt quite know how to react. First, there was Anitas appearance: she looked like something out of a Grimms fairy tale, nothing like the Texas golddigger that was her usual style. Gone were the bright, garish colors and peroxided, high-rise hair. Now a simple white braid hung over one shoulder. There was something almost otherworldly about her, a fragility that bespoke great sadness.

And--even more disconcerting--was the fact that she was here, invading the solitude that had cost Elizabeth so dearly.

She remembered their last phone conversation. Elizabeth had been triumphant after painting class--and yes, tipsy. Had she invited Anita here?

No.

No invitation had been issued, drunken or otherwise. But shed written that despairing were family letter right after the break up. All of this flashed through her mind in an instant.

"I hope you dont mind me just showin up. My mama would be spinnin in her grave at such a breach of etiquette, but I was lookin through travel magazines for a place to go, and I saw an ad for Oregon beaches. And I thought, hells bells it must be a sign. "

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