Time After Time (23 page)

"It's cereus."

"I smell a cloud formation?"

He chuckled. "Not cirrus. Cereus. Night-blooming cereus. It's a cactus. They're rare and inconspicuous, which makes them almost impossible to find since they only bloom at night, but it's the most beautiful of all cactus flowers. It opens at sundown, then closes again at daybreak. And you can smell the perfume a quarter of a mile downwind."

She slid her feet to the side. "Let's go find it."

"Whoa," he said, pulling her back. "I don't think so."

"Why not? If they're that hard to find, it would be like finding a unicorn."

He leaned his head back, exhaling in a soft gust. "Some things you have to accept as impossible to find. You know it's there—it makes its presence known just enough to tantalize, just enough to torment. But it's always out of reach." With the moonlight on his face, he looked as cold and unreachable as a gray marble statue. "That's when you have to decide to take what you can get. Enjoy the perfume, and don't look for something of more substance."

Standing abruptly, he walked to the railing that ran along the edge of the deck. "We have to go back tomorrow," he said in a voice devoid of emotion.

Why did he have to remind her? she thought restlessly. She had taken great care not to think about it.

He turned around. "Have you enjoyed this week?"

Leah felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but stubbornly blinked them away and smiled. "I've loved every single minute of it." That much she could tell him.

"I'm glad. Leah, I've done a lot of thinking this week. A lot of hard thinking. I've come to the conclusion that since we've been here, we've given each other things we couldn't have gotten from anyone else. With you, I'm not so rigid. It's easy to laugh when you're around. And when we make love—"

He broke off, and his eyes finished the sentence, sending a flash of pure lightning through her veins. "We make magic together," he said softly. "For me, a great deal of the pleasure comes because when we make love, you see
me.
You want
me,
not just a physical release. That's the kind of woman you are. But because that's the kind of woman you are, and although you have a very sensual nature, you've neglected that part of yourself for a long time." He exhaled a long, slow breath. "And that's what I've given you. With me, you can be all that you were meant to be."

He rubbed his temple in an unconscious movement. "I've never believed in fate. The idea goes against the grain with me. But I can't help thinking about that ski trip you were supposed to take. I can't help thinking that we should have met nine years ago."

Leah glanced away from him. That would have been before his marriage, maybe even before he met Diane. Would it really have made a difference?

She sighed. Maybe it really was written in the stars that the two of them should get together. But not forever. She had already accepted that. If this thing between them was meant to be, it was most likely to teach them something about themselves. Leah hadn't

decided yet what she would learn from the experience. Perhaps she was going to find out how much pain she could take before she broke.

She deliberately made her voice light. "Nine years ago I was a silly teenager. You were already a grown man. And even if you had been attracted to me, you aren't the kind of man to propose an affair to a teenager."

For just an instant he stiffened, almost as though she had touched a nerve. "No," he said, his voice barely audible. "No, I wouldn't have done that."

Silence fell around them, growing heavy with tension. What was this all about? she wondered, her fists clenching. Why the postmortem? Whatever it was, she wished he would get it over with. She didn't think she could take much more.

Although it had been her wish, when he spoke, the sound of his voice startled her.

"I have a proposition to make."

His voice was firm and strong now. She had heard this particular tone hundreds of times in the past, in conference rooms and business meetings. Paul had had years of experience at hiding his thoughts. He was a master at it, she thought with resigned wistfulness.

"I don't want you to give me an answer now. Take your time and think about it." He turned away, looking out over the moonlit desert. "I think we should get married."

Her pupils dilated in shock, and she became as still as a statue. For a stunned moment she couldn't think;

she felt dizzy. She heard his next words through the faint buzzing in her ears.

"I know this is coming at you right out of the blue," he continued, "but I think we could make it work. Even if we discount the dreams and the physical side of our relationship, we've still got more going for us than most people have. We're alike, Leah. Our priorities are the same—hell, we even think alike." He paused, letting his argument sink in. "Will you think about it?"

She swallowed heavily. It felt as if hands were squeezing her throat. "Yes—yes, of course I will."

Leah couldn't look at him. Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the deck. She was trying to decide how she felt, and suddenly realized she couldn't feel anything. That almost made her laugh. Her brain felt the way her lips did when she went to the dentist.

Had he just proposed a merger? she wondered in confusion, then shivered violently.

"You're cold. Let's go inside."

When she stood, he took the blanket and walked beside her into the house. Even inside, she still felt chilled. When her teeth began to chatter, she threw him a rueful glance. "Maybe you should light the fire."

His movements full of controlled violence, he threw the blanket onto the couch and jerked her into his arms. "Maybe you should light a fire. Here, in me. Kiss me, Leah," he said, his voice rough and husky. "Kiss me and watch me burn for you."

Then there was only his touch. No pain. No decisions. No confusion. There was only the way he made her feel.

On Monday morning Leah walked into the outer office and paused to look around. This had been her world for so long, but even this world looked different now.

' 'Did you enjoy your vacation?''

She glanced at Charlotte, her eyes widening slightly. Here were more changes. Her secretary had a whole new look. New hairdo. New clothes. The glasses were gone, and her eyes were a brighter shade of blue.

"Yes, I did," Leah said. "Very much. I like your new look. You're very pretty, Charlotte."

The brunette looked pleased. "Thank you." She held out her left hand, displaying a diamond engagement ring. "What do you think?"

Leah felt a tiny, pricking pain in her temples, but she pushed it away. She wanted to be pleased for Charlotte. She lifted one slender brow. "Do I know him?"

"It's Lester."

At last something managed to pierce the fog of confusion that had been with her for the last twenty-four hours. That single word brought her back to life with jolting force.

"Lester?"
she choked out.

Charlotte nodded, a mischievous twinkle in her newly tinted eyes. "When you have time, drop by his office. Lester is a changed man. I think I finally managed to get him straightened out." -

Leah's lips twitched uncontrollably, and seconds later the two of them burst out laughing.

A short time later, when she walked into her office, Leah didn't examine it the way she had done the outer office. Blood was finally flowing in her veins again. She didn't want to know that this, too, was different.

She had laughed with Charlotte. Life continues, she thought with a sigh. She wasn't really going to fade away for lack of love. As she had told Paul, she didn't pine.

The day before, when he had dropped her at her apartment, she had asked him to give her the coming week to think about his proposal. She needed the time away from him so that she could think with some measure of objectivity.

She leaned her head back. What a laugh, she thought, mocking herself. How could she be objective when her very life was on the line? When Paul was near, she couldn't think because of his nearness. When he was away, she missed him too badly to think.

Just then the telephone buzzed, startling her. Shaking her head to clear it, she leaned forward and picked up the receiver.

"Mr. Leighton is on line one," Charlotte said.

The head of personnel? she thought, frowning. She didn't need personnel problems today. "Put him through."

"Hello, Leah," the older man said when he came on the line. "Did you have a nice vacation?"

"Yes." Her voice was brisk and unencouraging. How many times was she going to have to answer that question. "What can I do for you, Ed?"

He laughed. "You're very cool about this. But there's no need for us to beat around the bush. You got it, Leah."

For a moment she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she dropped abruptly into the vinyl chair, a look of blank surprise on her face. She had gotten the San Francisco job.

She wasn't surprised at the promotion. It was her reaction to it that shocked her. A month ago the San Francisco job had been the most important thing in her life. She had worked herself half-crazy for it. But all that seemed to have happened to someone else. Someone Leah no longer knew.

"That—that's wonderful," she said weakly.

"They wanted you out there immediately," he continued. "But I told them you would need at least a month to clear things up here. That should give you time to fly out and find a place to live and get all your work in order."

Leah responded automatically to the rest of the conversation, her mind whirling wildly. When she replaced the receiver, she leaned forward, resting her head on her folded arms.

Life was so contrary, she thought. Her love for Paul had made everything else seem trivial.

Somehow she managed to get through the rest of the day. But the night was another proposition entirely. She barely made it through the night. She ached for

Paul; she needed him desperately. Not only his love-making. She needed the warmth of his body beside hers, the sound of his voice in her ear, the look in his eyes when he laughed.

As she moved through the days, she tried to think. She honestly tried. But at the back of her mind there was always the compelling urge to pick up the telephone and tell him that she would marry him whenever he wanted.

She recalled what he had said about the sweet-smelling, night-blooming flower. Could there be a lesson in that? She told herself that she would be stupid not to settle for what she could get from him. Wasn't a little better than nothing at all? Surely having part of Paul was better than having any other complete man.

At that point in her tangled thought processes she would reach out to call him, but something always stopped her. The same thing went on for three tense days. And three interminable nights.

On Thursday evening she lay on the couch, staring into the darkness, as the deep silence began to close in on her. She had put it off long enough. It was time to think about all the things she had been avoiding.

What scared her most? she wondered. Was it the fact that she loved him too much, or the fact that he didn't love her at all?

Could she enter into a marriage, given either of those two facts? If she did, what would she be like in a few years?

Visions rose in her mind, making her flinch. Visions of an endless, aching need. Visions of the bitter, lonely woman she would become. She would eventually come to hate Paul for being himself. For not being able to love her. And he would lose every ounce of respect he had for her.

She wouldn't do that to herself. She couldn't do it to him.

Yes, she thought, staring at a shadow on the ceiling, that's the answer. She had finally reached a decision. There was no wavering in her now. There was nothing in her now. Everywhere there was only emptiness.

Minutes later a knock on her front door startled her out of her self-absorbed mood. Sitting up, she switched on the lamp at the end of the couch, then walked across the room.

"Hello, Leah," Paul said quietly when she opened the door for him.

"Hi," she said, glancing away as she wiped the palms of her hands on her robe. "I didn't expect you."

"I can tell," he said wryly. "I know you said you wanted time alone to think." He seemed edgy and uncharacteristically restless. "I meant to stay away, but all evening I've had the craziest feeling. I can't explain it. A kind of coldness." He shook his head. "Maybe this is what getting old feels like." He smiled slightly. "I didn't know it would hit before I'm even forty."

He walked away from her, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't even know I was coming here until

I pulled into the parking lot. I thought I was going for a drive, just to get out of the house."

Swinging around abruptly, he met her gaze. Suddenly no more words were necessary. The need was achingly clear in his green eyes. She moved quickly to him, putting her arms around his waist to hold him tightly.

"You don't have to explain," she whispered, her fingers digging into his back as he lifted her to carry her into the bedroom. "I don't think I could have made it through tonight without loving you."

One last time, she told herself. Then she gave herself up to desire.