gentled. "The memory of that night helped me through many a lonely night
afterward."
"Oh, Ross," Chloe whispered, feeling a great longing inside. "I wish it
hadn't. It's too late to go back."
"I don't want to go back. I want to go ahead. That's why I'm here."
Anguished, she looked down. "It's no good. I can't."
"Can't or won't? We've been through this before. Well," he drew in a
breath, "believe this. I may have been immature eleven years ago,
running away from something that frightened me, but I won't make the
same mistake twice. It was fate that brought us together up at Rye
Beach, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you get away. I've made it
my business to find out every possible thing I could about you during
the past two weeks. And I know what happened to Crystal."
His words hung in the air. Her eyes begged him to say no more. She
bolstered the plea with her low whisper. "Then you can understand why I
can't bear to think back on that time."
"It was an accident, Chloe! It wasn't your fault!"
"But she died."
"And you lived, is that it? You can't forgive yourself for that?"
She jumped to her feet. With her heart pounding a thunderous beat, she
stared at him for an agonized moment before forcing her feet to move.
Her steps were slow at first, then gained speed as the force of habit
took over and she jogged toward safer ground.
With pitiful ease, Ross caught up. He caught her elbow, using her own
momentum to bring her around. When she faced him at a full stop, he held
her by both arms.
"I'm trying to be honest," he said.
"But it hurts. Can't you see that? It hurts!" She was consumed by it, a
hurt that was alive and festering. He had to see it anywhere he looked.
"The only way the hurt will stop," he chided gently, "is for you to put
the past behind you."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Do you think I haven't tried? Do you think
I've spent the past eleven years purposely living with a ghost?"
**skip**"Maybe not, but you've done it. You haven't resolved a thing in the
eleven years, if that hurt in your eyes is for real. It's your
punishment, isn't it? Your punishment for living."
She shook her head and whispered, "No. That's not true!"
"Not true?" he echoed in a voice strangely mellow. "Answer me one thing,
Chloe. Have you been with another man since we were together?"
"That's none of your bus-"
"It is so." He took her face in his hands, correctly anticipating her
attempt to look away. His touch was gentle but firm. "I was the first.
It's my brand that shaped you. How many others were there?"
"That's vulgar!" she cried.
"Maybe. Answer the question."
"I won't. Are you jealous, jealous and guilt-ridden? Well, I don't need
either of those traits in the man in my life. I'm doing just fine
withoutwithout-" Her limbs trembled.
Ross drew her against him, pressing her cheek to his chest, wrapping his
arms around her back. "Without love?" he asked, so softly that she might
not have heard him had the word not been on the tip of her tongue.
Incapable of speech for the moment, she simply breathed in the scent
that was all male, all Ross. His heart beat steadily by her ear,
gradually coaxing her own to slow. His arms enveloped her and lent her
strength.
"I tried." She spoke, unsteadily at first. "I dated. I still do." It was
easier not having to look at him. "I even tried to go to bed with one of
them."
She recalled the horror of the moment. "He decided I was frigid."
A deep laugh broke from Ross's throat, a laugh that was strangely
hoarse. "That's ridiculous," he crooned into the warmth of her hair, but
when he tipped her face up he felt her stiffen. "Oh, no, you don't." His
mouth found hers.
She fought him then. Struggling to free herself from the band of his
arms, she pushed against his chest, all the while trying to evade his
lips, but he was stronger than she was. The more she squirmed, the more
he steadied her. His lips stroked hers, demanding the kind of response
that he alone knew she had in her.
When her physical strength waned, Chloe tried passivity. The last thing
she wanted was a repeat of the night in New Hampshire or, worse, that
fateful night back in New Orleans. She had no right, she told herself,
no right!
"Come on, Chloe," Ross growled against her lips. "Ease up."
"Don't-"
She shouldn't have said anything. The tiny parting of her lips gave him
the opening he needed, and then she didn't have a chance. His tongue
invaded her mouth, spreading its sweetness deep. She told herself that
it was physical, that she could resist if she wanted to enough, but her
body betrayed her. It swayed toward him, weak with wanting.
From an odd defense mechanism, her mind went blank. It was as though the
battle between guilt and desire created a mental void. In that void
there was nothing but Ross and his body, the lips that caressed her,
arms that held her gently, legs that supported her. Out of that void
came her response, slowly, surely, and Ross had won. Her lips moved
against his, tasting, savoring. The corners of his mouth, his firm lips,
his tongue, one small nibble led to another until she returned his kiss
with matching passion.
"Oh, Ross," she breathed raggedly when his lips left hers to trail fire
along the sensitive cord of her neck.
"That's it, princess."
"No." That word. That past.
His breath warmed her ear. "You'll always be my princess, Chloe." He
nibbled at her lobe. "It has nothing to do with the past. Right now
you're my princess." With a groan, he pressed her to him. She felt his
desire as she tried to deny her own, but that same coil of need gnawed
within her. She was on the verge of losing control.
"No!" Her scream echoed back through her with such force that only
Ross's arms kept her standing. As she sagged against him, he eased down
onto the sand, turning her to sit with her back to his chest, her knees
bent and bounded by his. He said nothing, just held her, his arms
wrapped around her middle.
Chloe couldn't have moved if she'd tried. Drained by emotional strain,
she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply of the slow-cooling air.
When Ross spoke long moments later, she was surprised to hear humor in
his voice. "Not bad for a novice."
"What?"
"That scream. For someone who says she doesn't do that kind of thing,
you sure let loose!"
She let out a breath and grinned, feeling oddly calm. "I guess I did.
You have a way of doing the weirdest things to me."
"I certainly hope so," he drawled.
" Ross-"
"Shh. I've heard enough from you for a while. I want you to listen."
"But-"
"Shh! I have something to say."
"You-umph!" The breath was forced from her by a squeeze to her middle.
She didn't try to speak again.
"Better," he said. "Now, listen. I realize that you need time, and I'll
give you that. But I'm not leaving. Not this time. I want to get to know
you, and I want you to get to know me. We blew it on that score last
time. But yesterday was one thing, today's another, and they're
different, Chloe, they're different."
She liked the sound of that. Didn't know if she believed it. But it was
fine for the moment. Same thing with sitting against one another this
way, looking out over the last of the sunset's flaming rays. Ross
provided support. And heat. She was acutely aware of his long legs, his
strong arms, his broad chest, his warm breath. She might not have a
right to do it, but she savored the peace of the moment.
So maybe today was different. Certainly they were eleven years older,
maybe even worlds wiser. But Crystal had been an intrinsic part of her
life. To forget her would be wrong. It was more a matter of acceptance.
Could she accept the past and learn to live with it?
"Well?" Ross's baritone hummed by her ear.
"Well, what?" She had reached her saturation point and couldn't agonize
anymore. He nudged her ribs. "Don't you have anything to say for
yourself.?"
Her long pause was nearly as effective as the sigh that followed it. "I
can speak now?"
"Speak."
"That's a beautiful sunset," she mused aloud. "It's a treat at this time
of year, all warm and golden. Do you have any idea what would happen if
the ozone layer were to be destroyed by the haphazard release of freon
gas?"
"Chlo ... eee."
Before Ross could respond, a call of concern came from far down the
beach.
"It's Lee," Chloe explained as her partner loped toward where she and
Ross sat. Ross made no move to hold her back when she slid from his grip
and jumped to her feet.
The timing couldn't have been better. With those legs framing hers and
the strength of that body a serious temptation, her diversion into
envitonmental quandaries would have been temporary at best. Lee's
appearance was a godsend.
Aware that Ross had risen beside her, Chloe kept her eyes on the
approaching figure. "You met Lee at the house, didn't you?" she asked.
"No," he said with something of a grunt. "Another character let me in
and directed me to you. Is this some kind of commune you live in?"
Lee's booming call spared Chloe from having to answer. "Is everything
all right, Chloe?" He covered the last of the distance at a more
cautious walk, making no effort to disguise his wariness of an equally
wary Ross. "It's getting dark. I was beginning to worry."
Chloe absently clutched her left wrist, a habit dating back to the days
when she wore a watch. Her fingers easily circled the bone. "Oh, my. I'm
sorry. I lost track of the time. We were going to-" Suddenly aware that
the two men were staring at each other, she interrupted the thought and
said, "Lee, this is Ross Stephenson. We knew each other a long time ago.
Ross heads the corporation responsible for the Rye Beach proposal." She
looked at Ross. "This is Lee Haight. Lee and I co-own ESE."
For a brief instant, she pictured the two men squaring off, and there
was that moment's antagonism. She was relieved when Ross extended his
hand. It was met by an equally large one of Lee's.
Chloe was struck by those hands, but they were only the start. The
physical similarities between the two men, each of whom had been
instrumental in shaping her life, was amazing. Both were tall and lean;
both had athletic builds. While Ross's dark hair had faint wisps of gray
at the sideburns, Lee's highlights were more auburn, but both men were
tanned and inordinately good-looking. Only their dress differentiated
their approaches to life. Whereas Ross was the image of the casual male
of the more traditional school, Lee was, in appearance, reminiscent of
that earlier, more nonconformist phase through which the other had
passed. While Ross wore slacks, Lee wore denim. While Ross wore a sports
shirt, Lee wore a T-shirt emblazoned with an apt MAN. Ross wore well kept
loafers, Lee had on a pair of battered running shoes. And then there was
that neatly trimmed beard of Lee's that stretched from ear to ear, much
as Ross's had on the night Chloe had met him.
It had never occurred to her to compare the two men before, but on all
counts the likeness was astounding.
Apparently Ross saw it, too. He grinned slowly, almost slyly. "It looks
like Chloe's taste in men hasn't changed all that much, after all," he
said, with such a lack of malice that Lee relaxed a little.
"I intend to take that statement at its most positive, friend. This
little lady is very near and dear to me." He threw a protective arm
about Chloe's shoulder, drawing her to him with his customary
possessiveness. She had always liked that, and did even more so now. His
presence made her feel less vulnerable. She chuckled when Lee added,
"Are you friend or foe?"
"Friend, by all means," Ross replied.
"Then I take it you're not here on business," Lee concluded. "And you
can't be passing through."
Chloe laughed this time. "I've been through all that with him, Lee. He
knows precisely where he is."
Lee glanced her way. "Sounds ominous." He looked at Ross. "How long are
you in for?"
"I was hoping to spend the weekend here," Ross answered with a calm that
had the opposite effect on Chloe. Her stomach was suddenly filled with
butterflies. They fluttered wildly when those amber eyes turned to her.
"If Chloe is free."
Chloe didn't know whether Lee sensed her internal turmoil, but she was
eternally grateful for the arm that tightened around her shoulders.
"You'll have a fight on your hands," he said. "I have a prior claim on
her. Your big corporation may be able to do without you for the weekend,
but our small one isn't so generous." Looking down at her, he said,
"There were several calls for you. Alabama called again on that toxic
waste burning problem. I told them you'd have an answer for them by
Monday."
Chloe nodded, sighing her uncertainty on the Alabama matter. "And the
other calls?"
"Derry Township called on the lecture series at the community college.
They want to know when the printed material will be ready to be copied.
Jay called from Pittsburgh to say that he should be back on Sunday, and
