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His. fierceness left him, and he turned her back so he could gaze down at that soft beautiful face, cheeks flushed, lips parted. Pulling her tight against him, he squeezed his eyes shut against the surge of an emotion he refused to name.
With a great cry, he flooded her.
Chapter 21
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Dan walked across the bedroom, unself-conscious about his nudity. As she lay in bed and gazed at the many scars on his body, she thought about all the hits he had taken over the years. He pulled a white terry cloth robe from the closet and slipped into it. "We've got to talk, Phoebe."
She had never seen him look so serious, and memories of what had happened the first time they'd made love in that Portland hotel room came rushing back.
He approached the bed and sat on the edge looking down at her. "I'm afraid we both got carried away tonight. I didn't use anything."
She gazed at him blankly.
"I don't know what happened. I've never been this careless, not even when I was a kid."
Understanding dawned, and with it an irrational sense of disappointment that the idea of getting her pregnant was so upsetting to him. "You don't have t
o worry. I'm on the pill." He'd never know how recently she'd gone on it, right after the night in the airplane.
"These are the nineties. I'm worried about a little more than birth control. It's been years since I've been with anyone but Valerie, and my contract with the Stars requires a regular physical. I know I'm healthy." He looked her right in the eye. "But I don't know the same about you."
She stared at him.
"You've led a full life," he said quietly. "I'm not passing judgment; I just want to know how careful you've been, and how much time has passed since you've had a blood test."
She finally understood what he meant. How could she admit to this worldly man that AIDS hadn't been a serious issue the last time she'd slept with another man? Stalling, she propped herself up on the pillow with one elbow and gazed at him through a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. "You sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself."
"This isn't a joke."
"No, it isn't." She slipped her legs over the opposite side of the bed and went to the chair where he'd dropped his tuxedo shirt. She didn't want to have this conversation naked, and she couldn't bear the idea of struggling back into her dress while he watched. "You don't have anything to worry about. I'm clean as a whistle."
"How do you know?"
She slid her arms into the sleeves of his shirt. "I just do."
"I'm afraid that's not good enough."
"There's nothing to worry about. Take my word for it." There weren't any buttons on the shirt, so she wrapped his cummerbund twice around her waist and tied the ends.
"You're not even looking at me. Are you hiding something?"
"No," she lied.
"Then sit down so we can talk this through."
"I don't have anything else to say. Maybe you'd better take me home."
He stood. "Not until we have it out. You're scaring me."
He didn't sound scared. He sounded angry. She slipped into her heels. "I was fine at my last physical."
"When was that?"
"Spring."
"How many men have there been since then?"
