Reflections Page 7

  Lindsay laughed, at ease again, and buttered a roll.

  ***

  The sky was a deep, dark blue. The stars were low and bright, glimmering through a cloudy sky. Lindsay could feel the autumn wind shiver against the car as Seth drove along the coast. It added excitement to the romance of moonlight and wine.

  The evening, she decided, had been much more pleasant than she had anticipated. From the first moment, she had enjoyed being with him. It surprised her that he could make her laugh. Lindsay knew there were times between dealing with her work and her mother that she became too serious, too intense. It was good to have someone to laugh with.

  By unspoken agreement, they had steered away from controversial topics, keeping the conversation as light and palatable as the meal. She knew they would lock horns again over Ruth; there was no escaping it. Their desires for her were so totally diverse that no solution could be reached without a battle. Or two. But for the moment, Lindsay felt calm. Even as she wondered about the eye of the storm, she accepted it.

  “I love nights like this,” she said on a sigh. “Nights when the stars hang low and the wind talks in the trees. You’d hear the water from the east side of your house.” She turned to him as she spoke. “Did you take the bedroom with the balcony that hangs over the Sound? The one that has an adjoining dressing room?”

  Seth turned to her briefly. “You seem to know the house well.”

  Lindsay laughed. “You could hardly expect me to resist exploring the place when it was just sitting there waiting.”

  Ahead, a few twinkling lights outlined Cliffside against the darkness. “Is that the room you’ve taken?”

  “The huge stone fireplace and lofty old ceiling would have been enough by themselves, but the balcony . . . Have you stood on it during a storm?” she demanded. “It must be incredible with the waves crashing and the wind and lightning so close.” Her eyes were trained on him so that she saw the tilt of his smile when it began.

  “You like to live dangerously.”

  She wondered how his hair would feel between her fingers. Her eyes widened at the route her thoughts had taken. Carefully, she laced her fingers in her lap. “I suppose,” she began, going back to his comment. “Perhaps I never have, except vicariously. Cliffside isn’t exactly fraught with danger.”

  “Tell that to your ghost.”

  Lindsay chuckled. “Your ghost,” she corrected as he pulled up in front of her house. “You’ve absolute claim on her now.” While she spoke, Lindsay stepped from the car. The wind fluttered over her face. “It’s truly fall now,” she mused, looking about her at the quiet house. “We’ll have a bonfire in the square. Marshall Woods will bring his fiddle, and there’ll be music until midnight.” She smiled. “It’s a big event in town. I suppose it must seem very tame to someone who’s traveled as much as you have.”

  “I grew up in a dot on the map in Iowa,” he told her as they passed through the gate.

  “Did you really?” Lindsay mulled over the information. “Somehow I pictured you growing up in a city, very urbane, very sophisticated. Why didn’t you go back?” She stood on the first step of the porch and turned to him again.

  “Too many memories.”

  With the height of the step and her evening shoes, Lindsay stood nearly level with him. There was a jolt of surprise in finding her eyes and mouth lined up with his. In his irises were tiny amber flecks. Without thinking, she counted them.

  “There are thirteen,” she murmured. “Six in one and seven in the other. I wonder if it’s bad luck.”

  “If what’s bad luck?” Her eyes were direct on his, but he could see her mind drift off, then snap back at his question.

  “Oh, nothing.” Lindsay brushed off the question, embarrassed by her lapse. “I have a tendency to daydream.” Amusement moved over Seth’s face. “Why are you smiling?”

  “I was thinking back on the last time I walked my girl to her door with the front porch light shining behind her and her mother inside. I think I was eighteen.”

  Lindsay’s eyes brightened with mischief. “It’s a comfort to know you were eighteen once. Did you kiss her good-night?”

  “Naturally. While her mother peeked through the living room drapes.”

  Slowly, Lindsay twisted her head and studied the dark, empty windows. With an arching brow, she turned back. “Mine’s probably gone to bed by now,” she decided. Laying her hands on his shoulders, Lindsay leaned forward to touch her lips lightly, quickly, to his.

  In an instant of contact, everything changed. The bare brushing of lips was cataclysmic. Its effect rocketed through her with such velocity that she gasped. Carefully she drew away, still keeping her hands on his shoulders as they studied each other.

  Her heart was knocking against her ribs as it had when she had stood in the wings before a difficult pas de deux. Anticipation soared through her. But this duet was unrehearsed and older than time. She dropped her eyes to his mouth and felt a hunger that was essentially physical.

  They came together slowly, as if time would stop for them. There was a certainty as they slipped into each other’s arms, as of old lovers reacquainting rather than meeting for the first time. Their lips touched and parted, touched and parted, as they experimented with angles. His hands slid inside her coat, hers inside his jacket. Warmth grew as the wind swirled a few autumn leaves around them.

  Seth caught her bottom lip between his teeth to halt her roaming mouth. The tiny nick of pain shot trembles of desire through her. Passion flared. The slow, experimental kisses became one desperate demand. Her tongue moved with his. The hunger intensified, promising only to increase with each taste. Lindsay curved her arms up his back until she gripped his shoulders. She pressed hard against him as he took his mouth from hers to move it to the slender arch of her throat. His hair feathered against her cheek. It was soft and cool, unlike the heat of his mouth, and it seemed to draw her fingers into it.

  She felt him tug the zipper of her dress down until his hands touched the naked skin of her back. They roamed, trailing down to her waist and up to the nape of her neck, flashing flames along the journey. The longing for him swelled so urgently that Lindsay trembled with it before his mouth at last returned to hers.

  Her emotions began to swirl, rising to compete with the physical need. The onslaught made her dizzy, the intensity frightening her. She was discovering frailties she had not known she possessed. Struggling back to the surface, Lindsay brought her hands to his chest to push herself away. Seth freed her lips, though he kept her close in his arms.

  “No, I . . .” Lindsay closed her eyes briefly, drawing back the strength she had always taken for granted. “It was a lovely evening, Seth. I appreciate it.”

  He watched her in silence a moment. “Don’t you think that little speech is a bit out of place now?” Barely moving, he rubbed her lips with his.

  “Yes, yes, you’re right, but . . .” Lindsay turned her head and breathed deep of the cool, evening air. “I have to go in. I’m out of practice.”

  Seth took her chin in his hand, turning her face back to his. “Practice?”

  Lindsay swallowed, knowing she had allowed the situation to get out of hand and having little idea how to regain control. “Please, I’ve never been any good at handling this sort of thing, and . . .”

  “What sort of thing is that?” he asked her. There was no lessening of his grip on her, no weakening in the strength of his eyes.

  “Seth.” Her pulse was beginning to beat wildly again. “Please, let me go in before I make a total fool of myself.”

  All the uncertainty of her emotions beamed from her eyes. She saw anger flash in his before he crushed her mouth in a swift, powerful kiss.

  “Tomorrow,” he said and released her.

  Breathless, Lindsay ran her hand through her hair. “I think I’d better not. . . .”

  “Tomorrow,”
he said again before he turned and walked back to his car.

  Lindsay watched its taillights disappear. Tomorrow, she thought and trembled once in the chill of the night air.

  Chapter Six

  Because she arose late, it was past noon before Lindsay finished her barre and changed. She was determined to keep her afternoon at the Cliff House casual and dressed accordingly in a rust-colored jogging suit. Tossing the matching jacket over her arm, Lindsay bounded down the stairs just as Carol Moorefield let herself in.

  Mrs. Moorefield was as unlike her son as night and day. She was petite and slender, with sleek brunette hair and sophisticated looks that never seemed to age. Andy’s looks came straight from his father, a man Lindsay had seen only in photographs, as Carol had been a widow for twenty years.

  When her husband had died, she had taken over his florist business and had run it with style and a keen business sense. She was a woman whose opinion Lindsay valued and whose kindness she had grown to depend on.

  “Looks like you’re geared up to do some running,” Carol commented as she closed the front door behind her. “I’d think you’d want to rest up after your date last night.”

  Lindsay kissed the lightly powdered cheek. “How’d you know I’d had a date? Did Mother call you?”

  Carol laughed, running a hand down the length of Lindsay’s hair. “Naturally, but I could have told her. Hattie MacDonald,” she supplied with a jerk of her head to indicate the house across the street. “She saw him pick you up and gave me the early bulletin.”

  “How nice that I made the Saturday evening information exchange,” Lindsay said dryly.

  Carol turned into the living room to drop her purse and jacket on the sofa. “Did you have a nice time?”

  “Yes, I . . . yes.” Lindsay suddenly found it necessary to retie her tennis shoes. Carol studied the top of her head but said nothing. “We had dinner up the coast.”

  “What sort of man is he?”

  Lindsay looked up, then slowly began to tie her other shoe. “I’m not completely sure,” she murmured. “Interesting, certainly. Rather forceful and sure of himself, and just a little formal now and again, and yet . . .” She recalled his attitude toward Ruth. “And yet, I think he can be very patient, very sensitive.”

  Hearing the tone, Carol sighed. Though she, too, knew Lindsay was not for Andy, a tiny part of her heart still hoped. “You seem to like him.”

  “Yes . . .” The word came out in a long, thoughtful stretch. Laughing, Lindsay straightened. “At least, I think I do. Did you know he’s S. N. Bannion, the architect?”

  At the rate Carol’s brows rose, Lindsay knew this was news. “Is he really? I thought he was going to marry some Frenchwoman, a race car driver.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Well, this is interesting,” Carol decided. She placed her hands on her hips as she did when she was truly impressed. “Does your mother know?”

  “No, she . . .” Lindsay glanced back over her shoulder toward her mother’s rooms. “No,” she repeated, turning back. “I’m afraid I upset her last night. We haven’t really spoken yet this morning.”

  “Lindsay.” Carol touched her cheek, seeing the distress. “You mustn’t let this sort of thing worry you.”

  Lindsay’s eyes were suddenly wide and vulnerable. “I never seem to be able to do the right thing,” she blurted out. “I owe her . . .”

  “Stop it.” Carol took her by the shoulders and gave them a brisk, no-nonsense shake. “It’s ridiculous for children to go through life trying to pay back their parents. The only thing you owe Mae is love and respect. If you live your life trying to please someone else, you’ll make two people unhappy. Now,” she stroked Lindsay’s hair again and smiled, “that’s all the advice I have for today. I’m going to go talk Mae into a drive.”

  Lindsay threw her arms around Carol’s neck and gave one desperate squeeze. “You’re so good for us.”

  Pleased, Carol squeezed back. “Want to come?” she invited. “We can drive for awhile and have a fussy little lunch somewhere.”

  “No, I can’t.” She drew away. “Seth is picking me up soon to take me through his house.”

  “Ah, your Cliff House.” Carol gave a knowledgeable nod. “This time you’ll be able to wander about in broad daylight.”

  Lindsay grinned. “Do you think it’ll lose some of its charm?”

  “I doubt it.” Carol turned to start down the hall. “Have fun, and don’t worry about getting home to fix supper. Your mother and I will eat out.” Before Lindsay could speak, the doorbell rang. “There’s your young man,” Carol announced and disappeared around the corner.

  Lindsay turned to the door in a flurry of nerves. She had told herself that her response to Seth the night before had been abetted by the mood of the evening. It had been aided by her own lack of male companionship and his well-reported experience. It had been a moment only, nothing more. She told herself that now it was important to remember who he was and how easily he drew women. And how easily he left them.

  It was important to channel their association into a careful friendship right from the outset. There was Ruth to think of. Lindsay knew that if she wanted what was right for Ruth, she had to keep her involvement with Ruth’s uncle amicable. Like a business relationship, she decided, placing a hand on her stomach to quiet jarred nerves. Lightly friendly, no strings, nothing personal. Feeling herself settle, Lindsay opened the door.

  He wore dark brown chinos and a bone-colored, crew-neck sweater. His raw physicality hit Lindsay instantly. She had known one or two other men who possessed this elemental sexual pull. Nick Davidov was one, and a choreographer she had worked with in the company was another. She recalled, too, that for them there had been women—never a woman—in their lives. Be careful, her brain flashed. Be very careful.

  “Hi.” Her smile was friendly, but the wariness was in her eyes. She slipped a small, canvas purse over her shoulder as she pulled the door shut behind her. Habitually, she offered her hand. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” With a slight pressure on her fingers, he stopped her from continuing down the porch steps. They stood almost precisely where they had stood the night before. Lindsay could all but feel the lingering energy in the air. Looking at him, she met one of his long, searching gazes. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” she managed, feeling foolish.

  “Are you?” He was watching her carefully, deeply.

  Lindsay felt her skin warm. “Yes, yes, of course I am.” Annoyance replaced the guardedness in her eyes. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  As if satisfied by her answer, Seth turned. Together they walked to his car. A strange man, Lindsay decided, unwittingly more intrigued than ever. Smiling, she shook her head. A very strange man.

  As she started to slip into the car, she spotted three small birds chasing a crow across the sky. Amused, she followed their progress, listening to the taunting chatter. The crow arched toward the east and so did the trio of birds. Laughing, she turned, only to find herself in Seth’s arms.

  For a moment Lindsay lost everything but his face. Her being seemed to center on it. Her mouth warmed as his eyes lingered on hers. In invitation, her lips parted, her lids grew heavy. Abruptly she remembered what she had promised herself. Clearing her throat, she drew away. She settled herself in the car, then waited until she heard Seth shut the door before she let out a long, shaky breath.

  She watched him move around the car to the driver’s side. I’ll have to start out in control of the situation and stay that way, she decided. She turned to him as he slid in beside her, and opted for bright conversation.

  “Have you any idea how many eyes are trained on us at this moment?” she asked him.

  Seth started the car but left it idling. “No, are there many?”

  “Dozens.” Though the car doors were closed, she lowered her voice conspirator
ially. “Behind every curtain on the block. As you can see, I’m totally unaffected by the attention, but then, I’m a trained performer and used to center stage.” Mischief was in her eyes. “I hope it doesn’t make you nervous.”

  “Not a bit,” Seth returned. In a quick move, he pinned her back against the seat, taking her mouth in a rapid, thrilling kiss. Though quick, it was thorough, leaving no portion of her mouth unexplored, no part of her system unaffected. When he drew away, Lindsay was breathing jerkily and staring. No one, she was certain, had ever felt what she was feeling at that moment.

  “I hate to put on a dull show, don’t you?” The words were low and intimate, stirring Lindsay’s blood.

  “Mmm,” she answered noncommittally and slid cautiously away from him. This was not the way to stay in control.

  The Cliff House was less than three miles from Lindsay’s, but it stood high above the town, high above the rocks and water of the Sound. It was built of granite. To Lindsay’s fascinated imagination, it seemed hewn from the cliff itself, carved out by a giant’s hand. It was unrefined and fierce, a wicked castle perched at the very edge of the land. There were many chimneys, doors and windows, as the size of the place demanded them. But now, for the first time in more than a dozen years, Lindsay saw the house live. The windows sparkled, catching the sun, then holding it or tossing it back. There were no flowers yet to brighten the serious face of the house, but the lawn was neatly tended. And to her pleasure, there was smoke curling and drifting from the several chimneys. The driveway was steep and long, starting out from the main road, curving along the way and ending at the front of the house.

  “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Lindsay murmured. “I love the way it has its back turned to the sea, as if it isn’t concerned with any power but its own.”

  Seth stopped the car at the end of the drive, then turned to her. “That’s a rather fanciful thought.”

  “I’m a rather fanciful person.”

  “Yes, I know,” Seth observed, and leaning across her, unlatched her door. He stayed close a moment so that the slightest move would have brought their mouths together. “Strangely, on you it’s attractive. I’ve always preferred practical women.”