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“I wouldn’t believe you. You’ve backed away every time we—” She stopped, appalled.
“I was only being circumspect.”
Stormy lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Very inventive.”
“Suppose I told you I was scared?”
Stormy lowered her gaze. “Of what?”
“Well, hell…” He ran his hands through his hair. “Any number of things… You. Me. What’s happening…”
“Oh.”
“Rejection. I’d like to get through this with my ego intact.”
“Your ego,” Stormy flared. “What about mine?”
“Hold on a second,” he said, suddenly twisting around to yank open a dresser drawer behind him. When he turned back, in his hand was a handkerchief. He unfolded it and waved it in front of her face. “I’m willing to negotiate a peace settlement.”
“So am I.”
“Terrific. I’ll just put this toothbrush in the bathroom where it belongs.”
This he did so nimbly that Stormy’s protest was little more than a strangled utterance from the back of her throat.
Tyler switched off the lights, leaving only a small lamp by the bed.
“You call this negotiating?” she said, but she was rooted to the chair in a cocoon of expectancy.
Tyler sat down on the foot of the bed, the space they were in so small that his knees touched hers. He put a hand on her thigh, its imprint burning into her flesh beneath her cotton skirt. She kept her eyes on his hand, watching for any perceptible movement. If it moved, she knew something cataclysmic was going to follow.
“Do we have a cease-fire or not?” Tyler asked softly.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Are we positive this is something we want to do?” She traced his hand with her fingertips, giving him her own answer.How odd, she thought. On the outside, her body felt chilled; internally, she was a furnace.
Now both his hands were on her, his long, strong fingers gently kneading her. “We can stop anywhere along the way…” He reached for the sash of her wrap-around skirt and untied it. “Well… we might not want to,” he murmured throatily at his first glimpse of the beige silk teddy she wore.
From somewhere deep in her soul, Stormy recognized that, regardless of what might come later, this moment was theirs. It was good and right and healing. She lifted her arms toward him.
12
While the last dregs of night were slipping away, Stormy moved quietly so as not to awaken the sleeping household.
She was overflowing with a gamut of emotions that went with making love. Not that she and Tyler had actually spoken the words.
She had her hand on the banister when Nina emerged from the kitchen into the foyer. “I thought I heard you sneaking in,” she said, voice and expression exhibiting how strongly she disapproved of Stormy’s behavior.
Stormy answered her sister with a smile. No way was she going to allow Nina to undo the happiness she felt at this moment. “You’re up early. Did you see the eggs Liane dyed for the boys?”
“Don’t talk to me about Easter eggs,” Nina snapped. She waved the note Stormy had posted on the refrigerator. “I’ll bet I can guess the name of the friend you spent the night with.”
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from you, Nina. Had you been home last night when I left, I would have told you.”
“What about your parole officer?” Nina smirked. “Suppose someone told her that you spent the night in a man’s motel room?”
Anger flared so quickly in Stormy that it made her tremble. She grabbed Nina’s arm, propelled her into the kitchen, and shoved her into a chair. Then, knowing she needed to keep some distance, she stepped back and leaned against the sink. Strewed across the counter were dyed eggs, chocolate bunnies, jellybeans, and colored grasses. Seen through her irritation, the array of bright colors blurred. “All right, Nina. That sounded like a threat? What do you propose to do?”
“Nothing.”
