"I know what I felt last night. You couldn't have faked your reactions.
Sorry, Chloe, but you responded out of love. That's all there is to it."
"No. Not all." She needed time. She knew what she had to say.
"'responded to you out of need. Call it lust or physical desire, but
don't call it love."
"You're afraid," he announced.
There was a deathly silence. The air pulsed between them.
"You're afraid to let go of the past," he went on. "It's so much a part
of you that you're terrified to live without it."
"That's not true," she cried.
"Then why don't you try? You did it for a night-why not for a week?
A month? A year?" He softened. "I'm not asking you to renounce your
past, just to accept it and move on." He paused, suddenly a shade
unsure. "You did enjoy last night, didn't you?"
"Oh, yes," she breathed so quickly that her words stopped dead for lack
of a follow-up.
His smile filled the gap. It was a full, warm curve of the firm lips
that had given her such pleasure through the night. His gaze dropped to
her breasts, then her bare middle. When he bent to kiss her navel, she
clutched his hair. But to push him away? Or to hold him there? Lord, she
didn't know.
After a night of beauty, the morning was dreary and dark. After a night
of clear-cut emotions, the new day's emotions were muddy and dense. She
needed time, needed space. Turning her face into the pillow, she let her
hands slowly slide from his hair.
"I want you to work for me, Chloe."
Her eyes shot back to his. "Work for you? How can I do that? I have my
own business."
He brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. "I mean, I want to retain
your firm."
She was startled. She hadn't considered this twist. "For what?"
"They cater our board meetings," he drawled facetiously. "Come on, you
know what you do. I'd like to hire ESE as a geological consultant,
starting with a set of revised plans for the Rye Beach Complex."
Business, then? Suddenly self-conscious, Chloe drew the sheet to her
armpits and sat up. She forced a feeble smile. "So it's bribery now?
You'd try to hook my business, then slowly reel me in?"
"If necessary." His grin came and went. "I've toyed with the idea all
week. It was what I wanted to discuss when I arrived Friday. What do you
think? Will you do it?"
"No.
"Why not? It's a good business move."
"Actually," she thought aloud, "you're right. It is a good business
move. I'll do it, but only if Lee handle the work."
"I don't want Lee."
She had never doubted it. "That's why I can't do this. Can you imagine
us trying to work together? After last night? I'm not sure how much work
we'd get done."
He sighed. "At least you don't deny that."
"I never did. I just don't know how much more there is to it than that."
But she lied. Making love with Ross was as close, as deep, as merged as
she had ever been with another person, and that included Crystal, which
was saying a lot. She would always be attracted to Ross, would always
feel that special connection.
Sadly, she slipped out of bed and stood at the window. She felt as
lonely, as dismal as the day. Was the pain of separating from Ross worth
the joy of being with him? Was the pain her punishment for
self-indulgence?
She heard his footsteps behind her and sighed when he circled her waist
and drew her back against him. For another minute, no more, she would
savor it. Another minute, that was all. "I have to leave this morning,"
he said softly. "This morning?"
"I have a date in New York."
"A date." That stopped her. "Business or pleasure?"
"Pleasure."
She turned. "You just told me you loved me."
"I love her, too."
The mischief in his eyes tipped her off. "Your mom."
"Smart girl," he said with a smile. Chloe was inordinately pleased. "I
didn't realize she lived in New York."
"She doesn't. She's visiting."
"And you left her for the weekend?"
"With pleasure." And he showed no sign of guilt. "My mother has never
been the easiest woman to get along with. And the fact that I loaned her
my place pleased her more than my company would have. But I promised to
take her to an opening at an art gallery she sponsors." He cleared his
throat. "She's on another of her infamous culture kicks."
Chloe couldn't help but grin. "Like the violin lessons?"
"Like the violin lessons."
Their eyes shared amusement, but it faded fast. In its place was raw
desire, back with a vengeance.
"Ahhh, Chloe," Ross murmured and caught her lips.
She tried to turn away. "It's too late." She turned back again, needy.
She kissed him, then breathed, "We have to stop. Really, we do."
But she wanted him too much for that. He backed her to the bed and
followed her down, and she met him willingly. When he was gone, there
would be soul-searching aplenty. But not now. Not yet.
Her soul-searching began the instant the brown BMW pulled from her drive
and disappeared from sight.
"I'll be in touch, princess," he had said when he kissed her good-bye.
"You shouldn't, Ross," she had said, though her throat was tight with
emotion. "It's better this way."
He hadn't said anything more, had simply turned on his heel and walked
off.
The sense of loss she had felt then should have eased as the day wore
on, but it didn't. It grew sharper, forcing her to a deeper level of
soulsearching. On this level she felt great guilt. Twice, now, she had
been with Ross. Had it not been for the first time, Crystal might still
be alive.
The pain of her memory of that time was so great that she rarely went
there. Now she did. She and Crystal had double-dated that rainy Saturday
night and had returned home on a sour note, largely from Chloe's
distraction. When Crystal confronted her, Chloe told her about Ross. She
hadn't meant to gloat, only to share the excitement.
But Crystal was furious. Hurt, jealousy, anger-Chloe had never been able
to sort through her twin's rage. Crystal had run from the house, taken
her small sports car, and sped away. Within an hour the police were at
the door to report that the small car had skidded on the wet road and
slammed into a tree. Crystal had died instantly.
Chloe twitched. Her forehead was bathed in sweat. Throwing an arm over
her eyes, she sank more deeply into the sofa. For years she had lived
with the guilt of causing Crystal's death.
But there was new guilt now. Ross had fallen in love with her and she
had allowed it to happen. Since she couldn't marry him, he would be
hurt, which was the last thing she wanted. He deserved the best, the
finest. He deserved a wife and children and all those things she might
have wanted herself, had life been different. Causing him pain increased
her own pain ten-fold. Because, when all was said and done, she loved
him, too.
That was the deepest layer unearthed in her soul-search. She did love
Ross, but it had no future. There would always be yesterday and the
ghosts she lived with. Ross had stolen her heart, but only a part. The
rest had either died with Crystal, or died a little more each time she
saw the grief on her parents' faces. Ross deserved a wholehearted woman.
She wanted that for him.
After developing a throbbing migraine, Chloe was in bed by eight, and
there was pain beyond her head. Ross's scent clung to her sheets, the
remembered feel of his body scared her skin. She burned inside, with no
outlet.
In time she fell asleep. After two nights without, it was deep and
mercifully uninterrupted. She woke up only when Lee hollered from the
foot of the stairs, "Chloe? Rise and shine!"
She yawned, stretched, remembered and felt pain, then relief. Lee often
woke her with a yell. This wouldn't be the last time. Life would go on
without Ross. Yes, it would. Climbing from bed, she showered, dressed,
neatened the room and joined Lee for breakfast. "Good weekend, kid?" he
asked around a mouthful of toast. "Not bad."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing."
"He didn't sleep at my place Saturday night, Chloe."
She helped herself to coffee. "How do you know he stayed over Saturday
night? How do you know he didn't go back to New York?"
"His car was here Sunday morning."
She couldn't begrudge him the gentle teasing. He was a dear friend.
"You're getting snoopy in your old age."
"I live right next door. How could I miss it?"
"You could have looked the other way."
"And pass up the pleasure of seeing you blush? You don't do it very
often, you know."
With determined steadiness she sipped her coffee. "I'm not doing it now.
What you see is the freshness of morning-" ,,-made fresher by a
stimulating weekend."
"Stimulating," she said with a grunt. "That's one word for it."
"He's a good man, Chloe. I liked him."
"He liked you, too. The two of you aren't all that different."
"Maybe because we care about you."
Chloe smiled. "You're sweet." She changed the subject. "When do you
leave for Washington?"
"Hold on, pretty lady. I'm still curious. You and that guy had a thing
going once. Is it on again?" Quietly, she said, "I never talked about 'a
thing' with Ross. I said I knew him and that whatever might have been
between us was over. Don't read something into it that isn't there."
"You make a nice pair."
"It's not your affair."
Lee backed off. "You're right. It's not. If I had any sense I'd marry
you myself."
Chloe was suddenly cross. "I wouldn't say yes to you, either!"
"So he did ask you." Her partner smiled. "Fast worker, that one."
Unable to come up with a suitably indignant retort, she stood up with
her mug and made to flee to her office.
"What about breakfast?" Lee's voice trailed after her.
"I'm not hungry!"
"You shouldn't work on an empty stomach." Ross had said the same thing
Saturday.
"I'll live!" she shouted over her shoulder and closed the office door.
The telephone jangled, a merciful reminder of the workday ahead. It was
Alabama. Had she made a decision on handling the study for the citizens'
group in Mobile? No. She hadn't even thought about it once during the
weekend. It would mean a week on location taking samples of Gulf water
and testing the ocean floor composition. It was a potentially
fascinating project, since the toxic waste burning plan was so new.
"Yes, Ms. Farwell. I'll take the job. What's the exact status of the
waste burning now?"
A gentle voice responded with concern. "The tanker will be leaving
Mobile two weeks from tomorrow loaded with oil contaminated with PCBS.
Those PCBS are cancer-causing. The company that owns the freighter
claims that by the time the oil is completely burned, any toxic acid
emitted in the smoke will have been neutralized by the seawater. We
doubt that."
Chloe made notes as the woman talked. "Where do they plan to do the
burning?"
The woman knew her facts and offered them up, along with a detailed list
of the equipment Chloe would need. She also advised Chloe on making
arrangements with the local university for the use of their lab.
Hanging up the phone, Chloe was pleased. With the use of a lab, she
would be able to spend evenings analyzing the samples she collected.
Four or five days out, and the job would be done.
The project was exciting. More than that, the escape from Little Compton
was just what she needed. It would give her a head start at putting Ross
out of her mind.
Her pencil moved over the paper, making further notes on the Alabama
project. She would fly down in three weeks, by which time the tanker
would have reached its proposed burn site and started to work. Three
weeks would take her into the second week in November. After a week in
Mobile, Thanksgiving would be at hand.
Thanksgiving. She felt a soft, distant shudder. Should she go home?
Alabama was in the vicinity of Louisiana. Mobile was a hop, skip, and
jump from New Orleans. She hadn't seen her parents in a long time. She
missed them a lot. Same with her brothers. One of them might be there,
too.
But there would be memories of another Thanksgiving, not only in Chloe's
mind but in those of her parents and brothers. Could she face those? In
eleven years she had never made it home for Thanksgiving. They must have
guessed why. No doubt they were relieved. Looking at Chloe was seeing
Crystal, too. She hated to impose that on a family Thanksgiving.
The phone rang again. "Chloe? Howard Wolschinski here. I just got a call
from Stephenson. He's ready to talk." He paused. Chloe didn't know what
to say. "Are you still there?" he asked.
"I'm here, Howard." She sighed, resigned. She should have known. "That's
good news," she said with forced enthusiasm. "Has he given on all of our
points?"
"He hasn't given on anything yet. But he says that he hears what you're
saying and is willing to have you work with his people to revise the
plans."
"That's fine. My studies and findings are all clearly outlined in the
report I did for you. I'll have one of my assistants give him a call."
