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"Hey, the night is just beginning," he told me, and turned onto the road that would take us to our beach-house rendezvous.
His pager rang as we entered. He looked at it and nodded. "Your mother?" I asked.
"I'm surprised it took this long. Must have been a jam up on the phone lines or something."
"Are you going to call her?"
"No, not tonight. We're closing the door on all that out there. In here, it's just you and me," he said, and pulled me to him to kiss me. "I couldn't think of anything else if I tried, Not with you in my arms looking like you do." He kissed me again, then scooped me up and carried me, laughing, to the bedroom.
"What's left for the honeymoon?" I asked as he began to undress.
He paused and smiled.
"Wait until we're there on that mountain looking down at the sea. Then you'll know that every day we're together will be better than the day before. This," he said, kneeling beside the bed, just the coming attractions."
"Sounds more like a movie than a marriage."
"Our marriage will always be a romance. Willow," he promised, and kissed me on the tip of my nose as he rose slowly to lie down beside me and make love to me.
I once overheard my adoptive mother tell one of her closer friends that when you made love with your eyes closed all the time, you were trying to forget the man you were with and replace him with either some fantasy or someone you wished you were with. Her friend said if that was true, she hadn't made love with her husband for years. They both laughed, and then my adoptive mother shocked me by saying she'd never made love to her husband: "Even on our honeymoon. I replaced him behind my eyelids."
Their laughter felt like bee stings.
If my adoptive mother was right and was at least to be trusted when it came to something like making love. I had nothing to fear about my feelings for Thatcher.
Yes, his kisses and his caresses closed my eyes, and his hot breath on my neck made me tingle with pleasure and anticipation. but I loved looking at him. He was truly a handsome man, and when I watched him soaking in pleasure, he would open his eyes, too, and look into mine and smile and say, "You're so beautiful. Willow. You're so fresh and special."
If something were to happen and we were not together forever and ever, and if I was with someone else. I thought, I would most likely close my eyes all the time and behind my lids see Thatcher Eaton.
Such was the magic that jolted between us. We were like two sticks rubbed together to spark a flame that grew so hot and bright, it threatened to consume us in ourselves. Afterward, both of us needed a few minutes to catch our breath, to cool down our bodies and come back to earth. Still embracing me, he held me against his body and breathed normally. I had my back to him.
"Tell me about Kirby Scott now, Thatcher. What was he like? What did he say about my mother and Linden?"
Thatcher slipped his arm out from under me and turned onto his back to look up at the ceiling. I spun around to face him and propped myself up on my elbow.
"I will say this," he began, "there is something to be said for the life of a rake. Never really warningabout anything, living the free life without
responsibility or conscience, has kept him looking remarkably young. What aging there is in his face just distinguishes him, When I first set eyes on him. I thought this must be a different Kirby Scott, The man I was looking to meet had to be in his early sixties at least. I mean, he was married to your grandmother.
"Then I remembered he was about five years younger. Maybe he was even younger than that, but lied about his age. Who knows? The reality was, I could understand how he continues to charm and beguile women years and years younger than he is.
He is presently the escort of Jill Littleton, Hunter Littleton's widow. Hunter was CEO of Mars Industries, the company that specializes in
constructing airport malls. I did some work for her two years ago, and that's how I arranged to have the face-to-face with Kirby."
"But what was he like?" I pursued, impatient.
He was a cocky, confident son of a bitch. He had some idea about why I wanted to see him, but that didn't shake him a bit, at least so I could see. He wore a blue sports jacket, white pants, and Italian loafers without socks. He flaunts his gold in a thick necklace and a gold bracelet that looks like it could be used as the anchor of a battleship. He had a pinky ring with an emerald the size of a Ping-Pong ball."
"I'm happy you noticed all of his jewelry, Thatcher, but what was he like?"
Thatcher laughed.
"Hey, I can't help being impressed with all that, especially on a thief. That's all he really is, a glamorized thief.
He was crafty and oh, so polite and refined. He tried to show his concern about Grace. How was she? He wished he could visit her and see Linden, but he didn't think it would do either of them any good. The way he spoke about those days, he has either convinced himself or perfected the fabrication that he was young and innocent and impressionable. According to him. Jackie Lee took advantage of him, used him, and then, as if he were something d
isposable, threw him aside to have extramarital flings.
