Winter Affair (15 page)

“It will ruin your life,” he responded. “If I can’t get my act together I’m going to be a mechanic scraping by on the good will of kindhearted old Jim Kendall. And if he ever moves on I have no doubt I’ll be out on my ear the same day.”

“So you’ll be a mechanic,” Leda said. “And there is a world beyond Yardley. We can go anywhere if it doesn’t work out at Phelps. What is going on, Kyle, are you trying to tell me you’ve had second thoughts about last night?”

He dropped his eyes. “Last night was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I didn’t say it then, but I felt it.” He looked up. “I feel it now.”

Leda put her arms around him and leaned into his body. “Then what are you babbling about, man?” she asked him, her voice quavering with relief.

He stroked her hair. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to prove my innocence, and I don’t want you to be tied to a convicted felon,” he said simply.

“You’ll prove it,” she answered. “I’m going to make sure of that.”

He stiffened and pulled away from her. “Wait a minute. No, you’re not.”

“Sure I am. We’re going to get started on it right away.”

“We?” he said, raising his brows. “Oh, no. Leda, this is my problem. I don’t want you getting involved.”

“I love you, I already am involved. Besides, you told me I could help you.” She smiled up at him.

“I told you that you could help me get used to life on the outside again. We’re not talking about the same thing. I don’t want you mixed up in this, it could be dangerous. The guy who stole my formula isn’t going to welcome any interest, and there could be a lot of money involved. That means high stakes, high risks. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” she repeated meekly, careful not to promise anything.

“All right,” he said, mollified. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, which he still wore, and produced a small, brightly wrapped package. “I almost forgot. This is for you.” He put it into her hand.

Leda stared at it. “What is this?”

“It’s a bomb, what do you think it is? Merry Christmas, saddle shoes.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Kyle, everything is closed on Christmas Day,” Leda said. “Where on earth did you get this?”

“Hotels are open,” he answered, winking. “I drove to Princeton and got it in the gift shop at the Hyatt Regency.”

“You drove to Princeton?” she repeated dumbly.

“Yes, Leda. Princeton, not Paris. I had nothing else to do and I wanted to get you something. Now, are you going to stand there all night like a statue, or are you going to open it?”

“The Hyatt Regency,” she said. “That’s such an expensive place. I don’t know, Kyle...”

“That’s it,” he sighed, snatching the box out of her hands. “I’m taking it back.”

Leda lunged for it, and he laughed, holding it out of her reach.

“Are you going to be nice and open this without further commentary?” he asked, waving the box above his head.

“I am,” she answered dutifully, folding her hands and looking at the floor.

He lowered the box and she grabbed it, ripping off the paper greedily. He watched her, smiling slightly.

Leda lifted the cover and looked inside. On a bed of cotton wool lay a delicate necklace of thin gold links. Suspended from it was a miniature mask of comedy, the symbol of the actors’ trade since ancient times, when the Greeks used it to decorate their amphitheaters.

“Turn it over,” he instructed as Leda touched it with a delicate forefinger.

She did. The other side was the mask of tragedy. She lifted the chain from the box and slipped it around her neck. “It’s perfect, Kyle,” she said softly. “I’ll never take it off.”

He chuckled, hugging her and kissing her gently. “You have my permission to take it off,” he said. “But only on special occasions.”

“Don’t tease me,” she whispered. “I’m so happy. I never believed I could be this happy.” She shivered suddenly. “It scares me.”

“Why?” he asked, pulling a strand of hair out of her collar and running it through his fingers. “Isn’t that what everyone wants, to be happy?”

“Yes, but...” She thought about it. “I have ‘that which I fear to lose.’ You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said soberly. “Yes, I do.” They embraced in silence, and then Leda tugged at his hand and led him through the kitchen to the back of the house. “There’s my tree,” she said proudly, pointing through the glass door to the porch.

“What do you think?”

He surveyed it appraisingly. “I don’t know. Couldn’t you have gotten a bigger one?”
 

“Very funny,” Leda replied. “You should join forces with Claire. She said it belonged in Rockefeller Center.”

Reardon nodded, agreeing. “Either there or on the south lawn of the White House.”

“You’re just jealous,” Leda said airily.

He grabbed her and nuzzled her neck, running his hands over the smooth surface of her dress. “Who’s Claire?” he asked, his voice muffled by the soft curve of her exposed shoulder. “And where’s the bedroom?”

“Claire is my friend who lives next door,” Leda answered, her eyes closing. “And the bedroom is right down the hall from the living room.”

“You’d better show me,” he said huskily. “It’s hard to find your way around in a new place.”

Leda turned and they walked hand-in-hand to the door.

“Should I carry you across the threshold?” Reardon asked, half kidding.

“I think you already did that last night,” Leda replied.

“Oh, right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I was wondering how I wrenched my back.”

She threw him a dirty look, and he responded by snatching her off her feet and hoisting her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Leda squealed in protest, laughing as he strode into the room and tumbled her gently to the bed. Before she could move he dropped on top of her, holding himself up on his hands.

“You’re crushing my new dress,” she pointed out, not caring at all.

“I guess I’ll just have to take it off,” he replied solemnly, sitting up and lifting her with him. She raised her arms as he pulled the drop waist shift over her head and threw it in a backward arc. It came to rest on her dresser.

“So much for that,” he said, kissing the valley between her breasts exposed by her skimpy bra. He removed the rest of her underwear, caressing her slowly as he tossed the delicate items on the floor.

“Kyle?” Leda whispered, awash in sensation as he trailed his lips lightly over her belly.

“Mmm?” he grunted, absorbed in his task.

“Don’t you think you’d better take your jacket off?” she asked him, laughing softly. His mouth moved lower and her laughter faded. She moaned and clasped him to her, protesting when he finally stood to take off his clothes. She shifted restlessly, reaching for him.

“I’m always more interested in undressing you,” he said quietly in a belated reply to her question. When he stretched out beside her she melted into him, fitting herself into the curve of his side and sighing with satisfaction. His lean, hard body was the perfect complement to her softer, rounded one, and to rest in his arms was like coming home.

“I thought about this all day,” he said, pulling her tighter against him. “The minute you left I couldn’t wait for you to come back so I could touch you again. Once you were gone I became convinced I’d imagined the whole thing, probably because I had imagined it so many times in the past.”

“Did you?” Leda asked. “So did I.”

He stared at her, surprised.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you think ladies have fantasies like that?” Leda smiled, touching the slight cleft in his chin with the ball of her thumb. “I couldn’t sleep the night after I kissed you at the hangar. The memory of it kept me awake.”

“Oh, I slept all right. I dreamed. Constantly. And you were always the subject.”

“Is the reality a disappointment?” Leda asked, certain of the answer but wanting to hear him say it just the same.

He kissed her deeply, murmuring against her mouth, “The reality is far superior to the dream. Is that what you had in mind?”

“Yes,” she responded, raking her nails lightly down the smooth surface of his spine. He turned her fully, sliding his legs between hers. “You’re carving me up,” he whispered, nipping her ear. “My back looks like a relief map of Bolivia.”

“Does it hurt?” she asked, concerned, trying to sit up.

“Not at all,” he answered, pushing her down firmly. “And don’t stop. I like to see the cool, capable Miss Bradshaw turn into a tigress in bed.” He bent his head and laved her nipples with his tongue, caressing her relaxed limbs with his free hand. His touch became more intimate and Leda writhed in frustration, finally grasping his slim hips and pulling him toward her with surprising strength.

“Kyle,” she moaned, unable to say anything more than his name.

He understood, closing his eyes with pleasure as her hands found him and guided him home. He thrust into her powerfully, and Leda’s head fell back as she enfolded him in the ultimate embrace.

“Sweet Leda,” he said hoarsely, seeking her mouth with his. “I’ll never need to dream again as long as I have you.”

Leda clung to him, falling into his rhythm, inarticulate with a surfeit of feeling she couldn’t express.

We’ll work it out, she thought before she ceased to think at all. We love each other, and nothing that happens now can tear us apart.

At that moment, she believed it.

* * * *

Leda awoke about an hour later to the sound of suspicious noises in the kitchen. She got a robe from her closet and slipped into it, padding barefoot down the hall and pausing in the doorway. Kyle was rooting around in the refrigerator, clinking bottles and jars. His head was completely submerged inside, and he was visible only from the waist down, wearing his faded blue jeans and loafers without socks.

“Hungry?” Leda asked, and his head appeared.

“There are nothing but condiments in here,” he complained, disgusted. “What do you eat for breakfast? Relish?”

“I’m sorry the contents don’t meet with your approval,” Leda answered dryly. “I wasn’t expecting a raid.”

He slammed the door shut and confronted her, folding his arms. “I’m starving,” he announced.

“So I gathered. There’s a care package out in the car, which I thoughtfully assembled after dinner. It’s yours for the taking if you want to brave the cold .”

“I’m gone,” he said, heading for the door. Leda darted into the bedroom and grabbed his jacket, running after him with it.

“Kyle, put this on. You’ll freeze before you hit the street.”

He shrugged into it dutifully, on his way.

“It’s the shopping bag in the back seat,” she called after him, listening to his progress down the steps. He returned quickly, stamping his feet.

“It must be ten degrees out there,” he said, carrying the bag into the kitchen. He deposited it on the table and Leda unloaded its contents, identifying them one by one.

“Turkey sandwiches,” she announced, tossing him a foil-wrapped packet. He caught it with one hand.

“Fruitcake,” she said, sending another sailing his way. He palmed it and set it beside the first one.

“Sliced ham,” she said, “and, the piece de resistance, Uncle Matt’s chocolate nut surprise.” He snared both in midair.

“What’s the surprise?” he asked suspiciously, peeling open the foil on the last bundle.

“That’s just the name, dummy,” Leda said, exasperated. “They’re brownies.”

He nodded, popping one into his mouth. “Good,” he pronounced.

“Uncle Matt will be so pleased,” Leda answered.

“No stuffing?” Reardon asked, disappointed, peering into the empty bag.

“These are the leftovers, Kyle, not the main course.”

He settled for a turkey sandwich and sat at the kitchen table, washing it down with a glass of water from the sink.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked Leda when he realized that she was standing idle, watching him.

“I just ate a couple of hours ago,” she reminded him. She walked over to him and rearranged his hair, mussed from the bed and the wind outside.

“You need a haircut,” she observed.

“I always need a haircut,” he answered. “My hair grows like weeds. In prison the only person who saw the barber more often than I did was his wife.”
 

Leda’s hand fell away and she turned from him. He reached out and caught her wrist, rising to stand beside her, the food forgotten.

“It bothers you when I talk about it, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly.

“Only because you were hurt there,” she replied. “I want to know about it, I want to know everything about you, but sometimes the memory of the pain is so clear in your voice that I can’t bear it.” She put her head against his shoulder and he held her loosely, stroking her hair.

“Let’s go back inside,” he said huskily, and Leda moved with him, unable to deny him anything.

Sometime during the night she woke to find Kyle sleeping beside her, the blanket caught around his waist, his dark hair an inky stain against the pillow. She traced his shoulders lightly with a feathery touch too insubstantial to wake him. He stirred a little, rolling toward her, and when he felt her next to him he sighed and relaxed, his fingers closing around her arm. So much for the bad dreams, Leda thought. He’s already getting used to having me with him. She settled the blanket more carefully around him, resolving that she was going to help him whether he wanted her to or not. And she had an idea just where to begin.