Cross My Heart (13 page)

He set the suitcase down beside her and walked across the
room to disappear through an archway on the south wall.

Elyse sank into the soft, thickly padded chair and curled
her feet under her. She had a fleeting impression of the luxurious
surroundings, but was too upset to really notice.

Trembling with tension, she leaned her head back and
closed her eyes in an effort to calm down as Clint had suggested. She
took deep breaths and forced her muscles to relax one by one while she
tried to clear her turbulent mind.

Clint sprinted to the bedroom and pawed through a drawer
in search of a shirt. His heart was racing and his mind was mired in
confusion. What was Elyse doing standing on his doorstep at nine-thirty
at night? Coming here was the last thing he'd expected from her.

He grabbed a navy polo shirt and pulled it over his head.
Why was she so upset? He'd never known her to lose her composure
before. Of course he hadn't known her long, and every time he'd thought
he had her figured out he'd discovered he was wrong, so he might as
well admit he didn't really know her at all. Still, something was
bothering her. He couldn't have misread the panic he'd seen on her face
and heard in her tone.

He looked in the mirror and grimaced. No wonder she
thought he'd been interrupted in the middle of a hot-and-heavy session
with a woman. He'd been toweling his hair dry when he heard the
doorbell, and it was standing up in ail directions.

He picked up a comb and started to smooth it down. Dammit,
he was almost as unstrung as Elyse. He hadn't believed his eyes when
he'd seen her standing there, holding an overnight bag and looking as
if she expected him to slam the door in her face.

He laid the comb on the dresser.
Drop it,
Sterling
, he mentally castigated himself. He wasn't going to
give her a second chance to manipulate him. He'd known all along this
relationship was going nowhere, so now was the time to put an end to
it. He'd listen to her apology, assure her she was forgiven and send
her away.

He rummaged in the closet for his house slippers and put
them on. He'd remind her that soon they'd probably be related by
marriage since his brother and her sister were lovers, so they'd always
be friends.

He ran his fingers through his newly combed hair.
If
only she hadn't brought along that suitcase. Did it mean she intended
to spend the night? If so, did he have the strength to refuse
?

The carpeting was so thick Elyse didn't hear Clint
returning until he appeared in the archway and headed toward the wet
bar in one corner of the room. "Sorry for the delay," he said. "Is
brandy okay for you, or do you prefer something else?"

"I don't want anything to drink, thank you," she said, and
straightened up in the chair.

He took a bottle from the cabinet and poured its contents
into two snifters. "I think you'd better. This brandy will settle your
nerves."

He picked up the glasses and walked across the room to
hand her one, then took the matching chair on the other side of the
fireplace. "So you had trouble finding the house? It's rather hidden."

Elyse took a swallow of her drink and was grateful for the
smoothness with which it slid down her throat. It was obvious he was
trying to make this easier for her, but his thoughtfulness made things
even harder.

"I don't want to make small talk, Clint. I want to make
you understand I wasn't teasing Sunday night."

She saw his look of skepticism. "I know that's hard for
you to believe after the way I acted, but I really did want to make
love with you. I was just as eager as you were until…"

She paused and took another sip of brandy. She'd played
this scene so often in her mind and had known exactly what she was
going to say, but now her mind was blank and she had no idea how to
proceed. "Maybe it'll help if I tell you about Jerry."

Clint frowned. "Elyse, I don't—"

"Please, let me do this my way," she pleaded. "Jerry and I
were high school sweethearts, and after graduation we enrolled at
Sacramento State. We'd intended to get married after we'd gotten our
degrees, but during our sophomore year we decided we couldn't wait any
longer. Jerry gave me a ring and we announced our engagement. We were
going to be married during the Christmas holidays, but we were both too
impatient to wait that long to… to make love."

Elyse was acutely uncomfortable. She'd never before
discussed the intimate side of her relationship with Jerry, not even
with Liz. It was private and personal, and not to be shared with
anybody.

She lowered her eyes and concentrated on the crystal
snifter she was clasping with both hands. "The first time…"
She paused and cleared her throat. "The first time we were
both… overeager… and it wasn't until afterward
that we remembered we should have been more…careful."

Her voice broke, and for a moment she couldn't go on. She
and Jerry had been so naive, and in their innocence they'd botched the
whole thing. Unfortunately the damage had been done.

"Elyse, don't." Clint set his glass down and leaned
forward. "I'm beginning to get the picture. It's not necessary to
continue."

She swallowed and looked at him. "Yes, it is, Clint. I
don't want any more misunderstandings between us. I've got to say it
all."

He nodded and sat back again while she swallowed more of
the brandy. "After that we always used protection, and in the
excitement of planning the wedding I forgot about that first oversight.
When I finally realized that my… cycle… had been
interrupted I thought it was just the tension from all that was
happening. It wasn't until two weeks after Jerry died that I found out
I was ten weeks pregnant."

Elyse slumped back, exhausted from the effort of
remembering and telling.

Clint gripped the arms of the chair to keep himself from
jumping up and going to her.
Stay away from her
,
a voice in his mind warned.
If you take her in your arms
you'll never be able to send her away
.

"Elyse, I can imagine what you must have gone through," he
said softly. "I'm sorry—"

She gestured for silence. "I'm not finished."

"It's not necessary—"

"I have to." She finished her drink and put the glass on
the floor. "On Sunday I was so afraid you were going to leave again
with just a quick kiss, and then when you took me in your arms and said
you wanted me, I… I just went up in smoke."

She buried her face in her hands, but continued speaking.
"Oh, God, Clint, I was going to make the same mistake again!" Her
anguish was heavy in her tone. "I would have blithely gone to you
without even thinking of contraception. I would have risked the same
situation all over again because I'm too irresponsible to have good
sense."

A sob shook her, and Clint was out of the chair and had
her in his arms before he had time to debate the advisability of his
action. "Sweetheart, oh, sweetheart, no. You're not irresponsible, and you wouldn't have gotten
pregnant. I wouldn't have let that happen."

He picked her up and sat down in the chair with her on his
lap.

She snuggled into his embrace and let the tears come.
"That's no excuse," she said brokenly. "I should be responsible for my
own body, my own actions. When you mentioned precautions and I realized
what I'd almost done, I was so shocked and appalled that I just went
cold all over."

Her arms around his neck tightened, and she rubbed her
tearstained cheek against his throat. "I still wanted to make love with
you, but I couldn't. I…just couldn't."

Clint held her close and rocked gently from side to side.
The depression that had gnawed at him all week lifted, and he felt
light and happy.

He'd been right about Elyse. She wasn't the type to tease
and torment. She'd been going through a hell of self-condemnation
because she wanted him so badly that she'd momentarily forgotten the
consequences.

"My poor little doll," he murmured against her ear. "I'm
surprised you'd want to apologize after the way I behaved, the things I
said. I'm so sorry. I don't know if you can understand, but I was
wanting you so badly, and had been for the whole hour it took us to get
home. When you wrenched yourself away from me and said no after you'd
been so responsive, so apparently willing, I guess I just went a little
berserk." He chuckled mirthlessly. "I spent the rest of the night
pacing the floor and damning you to hell."

She burrowed her face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
Her voice was thick with regret.

"Hush, now," he said. "We've established the fact that
we're both sorry. There's no need to belabor the point. I've forgiven
you and I hope you've forgiven me, so let's forget it."

They sat quietly in the chair, wrapped in each other's
arms for a long time, until finally Elyse worked up enough nerve to
bring up the most important subject of all.

She kissed the side of his neck. "Clint."

He rubbed his cheek in her abundant hair. "Uh-huh?"

"I came prepared to spend the night if you want me to, and
I'm fully protected." There, it was out, and she held her breath as she
waited for his reaction.

It was a while in coming. He just sat there quietly, and
she could feel his heart beating against her breast. Why didn't he say
something? She'd expected him either to pick her up and carry her off
to the bedroom or to dump her on the floor and tell her to go
home—either of which would have been preferable to no
reaction at all!

Her nerves were almost at the screaming point, when he
finally spoke. "Elyse, I'm flattered and sorely tempted, but I think we
should take advantage of the cooling-off period we've been given and
think about where our relationship is going before we get any more
deeply involved."

Her heart sank. What cooling-off period? She'd been in a
hot misery of frustration all week, and there was sure nothing cool
about her feelings right now.

"You're young and exquisitely beautiful," he continued.
"Someday the right man will come along and you'll marry. I'm pushing
forty and I like my life the way it is. I'm not looking for a wife, and
I don't have time for a love affair. Between now and the general
election in November I'll hardly have time to eat and sleep. The life
of a politician is a merry-go-round, but it's what I've chosen. I'd
like to be governor of California by the time I'm fifty, and to achieve
that I'll have to be totally committed to it."

He caressed her back tenderly. "I'm only human, and you're
exceedingly desirable. If you still want to stay I'm not going to send
you away, but you're almost sure to be hurt even though I'd never
deliberately make you unhappy."

Elyse felt as though she'd been kicked. Gently, but kicked
all the same. Clint didn't want her! He'd told her as. politely as
possible, but the message was clear. He wanted her to go home tonight
and to stay the hell out of his life in the future.

Again she felt the familiar despair of humiliation. She'd
thrown herself at him and been firmly rejected! Now what did she do?
How could she face him, let alone talk to him?

Carefully she sat up and slid off his lap. She stood with
her back to him and straightened her clothes. "You're probably right,"
she said, tightening her stomach muscles to make her voice stronger.
"It wasn't a good idea. I guess I got carried away with my apology. I
tend to go overboard at times."

She reached down and picked up her suitcase, then started
toward the foyer. "If you'll just unlock the door so I can get out,
I'll be on my way."

Dammit, she was babbling again. Why couldn't she just shut
up and make a dignified exit?

Clint was right behind her. "Elyse…" He sounded
odd, too.

She quickened her pace, then stopped at the front door.
Clint took a key from his pocket and turned it in the lock, then
reached for the luggage she held. "Here, I'll carry this for you," he
said as he opened the door.

"It's not necessary for you to come to the car with me,"
she protested.

He took her arm and helped her down the stairs and onto
the bridge. "I want to," he said, and continued to hold her arm
protectively.

They crossed the bridge and walked the few feet to where
her car was parked. Clint opened the door and tossed the overnight bag
across the seat to the passenger side.

Elyse stood back and waited for him to get out of the way
so she could slide in. There was a light pole in the parking area, and
she could see the ripple of his back and shoulder muscles as he handled
the luggage. How she loved those muscles, and the man they belonged to.

He backed out of the car and turned to her. His eyes
searched her face and his own looked grim. She hoped he wouldn't touch
her. If he did she'd cry, and she badly wanted to preserve at least a
show of poise.

Her gaze locked with his, and she was surprised to see a
dark shadow of agony in his eyes. She felt herself drawn magnetically
toward him just before his arms went around her and brought her hard
against his long lean body. Her mouth opened, and his covered it in a
kiss that destroyed her will and left her defenseless and vulnerable to
the hurt he'd promised her.

When at last he tore his lips from hers it was with a
shuddering groan. "Oh, my darling," he whispered huskily. "If you leave
I don't think I can stand it."

She didn't try to speak—her relief was too
profound—but she put her hands behind his head and pushed it
down to place slow, moist kisses on either side of his mouth. "I don't
think I could, either," she whispered just before their lips met again.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her back across
the bridge and into the house.

He didn't put her down until they got to the bedroom, a
large masculine room done in earth tones and furnished with dark,
heavy, solid wood furnishings, beautiful and expensive. The outside
wall was covered with woven drapes in shades of sea foam, cinnamon and
camel, and indirect lighting gave a soft dusky glow of intimacy to the
area.