bit, and nothing would ever change, and walked out.”
The same way he had ten years ago.
He heaved a sigh, aimlessly drawing circles in the sand with the tip of his finger. “Now it just seems … childish. I allowed wounded pride to get in the way. If I don’t make amends now, I may never get another chance.”
Yet another regret to add to the pile already heaped on his soul. He couldn’t do it anymore.
“I’m sorry.” She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “Does he have much time left?”
The touch surprised him. The warmth of her hand on his skin soothed a ragged nerve within him that he found comforting and disturbing at the same time. Ease settled around him like a warm fire on a cold night.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Nobody really knows. From what I hear, he’s as well as can be expected. My father’s very goal-oriented. A retired Marine. He hates not being able to do anything and hates being treated like an invalid even more. From what my brother tells me, he’s driving the nurses at the hospital crazy.”
The soft concern in her eyes wrapped around him and settled deep in his core. The emotion made Michael long for things he knew he shouldn’t, things he’d long ago given up on ever having. Their gazes caught and held; that fine, sweet tension settled between them again.
He lifted a hand, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, remembering the silky feel of it sifting through his fingers when he kissed her earlier. “Tell me something. What exactly are you doing out here with me?”
It was a bold question, one that put her on the spot, but he had to know where he stood.
A soft pink flush suffused her cheeks. “Caught red-handed. Truth is, I don’t really know. I’m kind of making it up as I go along.” She turned to face the water. Her voice softened, became almost pensive. “Have you ever wanted to step outside yourself, stop giving a damn what everyone thinks or what they’ll say, and just be who you’ve always wanted to be?”
Another something in common. “I had to go all the way to L.A. to find that.”
She glanced at him. “The town gets to me sometimes. I’ve spent my entire life playing the part of the wallflower, always keeping to myself, praying I’d blend in, that no one would notice me. Trying not to give anyone a reason to look too closely.”
That she felt comfortable enough to tell him that touched a soft spot deep inside of him. A place he’d walled off so long ago he’d forgotten it existed.
“The busybodies.” He nodded. He understood that more than she knew, more than he could or wanted to tell her. “I used to do exactly the opposite.”
“Somehow I’m not surprised.” Amusement flitted through her eyes, fading as quickly as it came. Something softer, more intense, slipped between them, calling to him like a Siren’s song. “Why’d you kiss me?”
Her soft question surprised him, and for a moment, he fumbled for an answer. It didn’t escape his notice, either, that her gaze drifted to his mouth again. This time it stopped there. Her tongue darted out and swept over her bottom lip in a distracted fashion. It was all he could do not to lean over and claim those lips again. The supple feel of them against his own shuddered through the recesses of his memory.
In the end, he decided on honesty. “Because you turned around on that stool and gave me a look I’d seen before.”
Her gaze shifted to his. “Which was?”
“Like you weren’t sure if you should be afraid of me or not.”
A soft flush slid into her cheeks. “You’re not a small man. You must be what, six two? Six three?”
He grinned. “Six three.”
“And you were standing there all dressed in black and leather with this mischievous glint in your eye that dared anybody to judge you.” She paused, glanced at the sand between them, then peeked at him through lowered lashes. “It was very sexy.”
Heat slid through him. A raw, aching need curled in his gut, to peel away her
John B. Garvey, Mary Lou Widmer