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Nina and Tully were in the family room, and through the closed door, she heard their muffled voices raised in argument. Hand raised to knock, she hesitated, debating whether to alert them that she was going to the beach. She heard the word money clearly. Tully was badgering Nina for spending above her household budget. Stormy lowered her hand. Stepping into Nina and Tully’s fray would only add to her own melancholy.
She stopped in front of the hall mirror to study her face. Her earlier bout with tears was no longer evident. Satisfied, she slipped out the kitchen door onto the deck.
Tyler was a shadowy silhouette at the end of the walk. She felt all at once lighter, freer, stronger.
The soft spring night was ripe with the expectation of summer. The moon was full, the sky a panoply of stars. Nature couldn’t have been more compliant had Stormy gone down on bended knee. It was an evening for lovers.
When she reached him, Tyler said nothing, only took her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her heart leapt, and she doubted she could get through the evening without giving away her feelings.
Tyler tightened his grip. “Spectacular night, isn’t it? We don’t get them quite like this inland.”
“We didn’t get them in prison, either. I missed nights like this. And silverware,” she footnoted, so nervously aware of his hand that she had to check a tendency to babble. “Plastic knives and forks and spoons were all we were allowed.”
Astonishingly, for so grand a night, they had the beach to themselves.
They walked a few hundred yards or so along the damp sand before Tyler spoke again. “Prison was hard for you, wasn’t it?”
“It’s hard on everybody. I can’t even watch police shows on television now without shuddering.”
“Then let’s talk about something more pleasant,” Tyler said. He stopped in his tracks, released her hand, and slid his arms about her waist, pulling her against his chest. He held her there, and she was certain he could feel her erratic heartbeat.
“This is talking?” Having his hands on her was oddly, wonderfully comforting. And stimulating. And overwhelming.
“It’s a language of sorts,” he said. Then, as he dipped his head to brush her lips with his, a low moan of pleasure emanated from the back of his throat. “Truce?” he implored, his lips moving to the shell of her ear.
Every nerve ending in Stormy was attuned to his caresses. His lips on her earlobe, his hands slowly moving along her back, the urgency his hips telegraphed against her—it was a sensual bombardment, and she was undefended. She wore shorts, and even the feel of his slacks against her bare legs took her breath away. Her hands made their way up his chest and around his neck.
“I’ve been having dreams,” his voice was audible only because his mouth was at her ear.
“Dreams?” Stormy asked, her own words soft, blending with the sound of the waves washing ashore at their feet. His cologne filled her senses.
“Of waking up mornings…your head on the pillow next to mine, your body fitted into the curve of my arm…”
“Oh.”
He lifted his head and gazed at her, clearly trying to discern her expression in the moon glow. “Just,oh?”
“Tyler,” she said, aching to feel his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth. “If you’re going to kiss me, just do it.”
He stiffened, then abruptly dropped his arms and stepped back. “A kiss?A kiss! You think that’s all this is about?”
Stormy guessed at what he was driving at but couldn’t make herself believe it. It was like having all the luck in the world—wrapped in tissue paper. Tempting, but oh, so fragile. She was afraid to succumb to happiness. Terrified, in fact. Besides, what she felt for him was probably just her hormones acting up.
“Why are you getting angry?” she asked.
He glowered at her. “I’m not angry. Why should I be angry?” His gaze drifted to a nearby dune. Instead of lowering her to the mound of sand and making love to her until the sun came up, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets as if he didn’t dare leave them to their own devices.
Stray wisps of hair had come loose from her braid. She brushed them back behind her ear. “You’re trying to complicate things,” she said nervously, uncertain exactly what was going on but feeling a need to rally her defenses. Then her vulnerability, her need for him, panicked her and swept her beyond a boundary she had not meant to cross. “Is this something you do with every woman you meet on a case? Or, since I’ve been in prison, did you figure that I’ve been so long without a man that I was ripe for the picking?”
The cap flew off Tyler’s frustration at her unjust accusation. “That’s crap, and you know it! You have gall, lady. You really do.” He spun on his heels and stalked off down the beach toward his motel.
A half dozen barbs she could fling at his back came to Stormy, but for once, she held her tongue. She looked at his retreating back, and suddenly she imagined that he was walking out of her life forever.
“Tyler! Wait!” She ran to catch up to him.
In his line of work, Tyler must have learned to be stubborn and tenacious. She saw the hardness in his eyes now as he stared down at her. “What?”
She deserved every bit of his frustration. “You did offer a truce.”
