As If You Never Left Me Part 5

"Leave the dishes," he said. "Come sit down."

She turned off the tap. Bubbles had risen in the sink. "You're going to do the dishes later?"

"I just might. It seems fair, doesn't it?"

She almost smiled. He saw it form at the corner of her mouth, then watched regretfully as she caught it and forced it back where it had come from. But she left the dishes, and sat down beside him on the couch. Stiffly, though, and as far away from him as she could manage.

"Thanks for dinner," he said.

"Dinner's not much."

"It was plenty."

She softened a little, her stiff spine relaxing. She seemed closer to him suddenly, though she hadn't changed position on the couch. She started to speak, then looked away. Finally she said, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." He paused, watching her profile as her mouth, too, released much of its tension. "Once I got my head out of my a.s.s and realized what I'd done."

She laughed lightly, the sound almost hiding the pain he knew lay behind it. "Took you long enough."

He edged toward her, his arm along the back of the couch. "Why didn't you answer any of my letters?"

"Because I never read them."

That stung. "Why not?"

She took a moment to answer. He thought he saw a crystalline glint in her eye, a tear poised on the edge of her lower lashes. "Because I knew how much it would hurt."

He could say nothing to that. He'd caused that hurt, and in that moment, he realized how monumental a thing it was for him to ask her to forgive him. How could he have believed it might be possible? Was he really that arrogant, to think she could let go of all that pain, just to have him back?

But he leaned closer, because he also realized how empty he'd become over the last two years, how much he needed her. In the background, the music had become more strident, the female vocalist singing harsh words against a former lover. Appropriate, he thought, though he'd hoped for something sweeter. Joely seemed not to notice.

His eyes drank in her face, the porcelain skin flushed with emotion, the distant, ice-blue eyes. "I love you," he said. He hadn't meant to.

She turned toward him and the glitter of tears overflowed onto her face. "Oh, Rey, don't hit me with that. It's not-"

He didn't give her a chance to explain what it wasn't, because his body, moving apparently of its own volition, closed the distance between them. His mouth caught hers, molded itself to her familiar shapes. A small sound rose in her throat and he pressed closer. His hands curved against her waist.

She didn't pull back. She didn't know why she didn't pull back-G.o.d knew she should have. But the taste and the movement of his mouth against hers were too good, too beautiful. Her mouth opened under his as it had so carefully refused to before, at the lodge. She let him inside.

She moaned as his tongue tangled with hers, soft but insistent, stoking a flame that burned all through her body. It had been a long time since she'd felt that kind of heat. She'd never felt it with anyone but Rey.

Stop. Stop now before it gets any worse.

Or should that be any better ...She was utterly confused by now. So confused that she did nothing when Rey's hands slid up along her sides, then forward to cup her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He pressed against her, thumbs finding her nipples. So familiar, the heat and the shape of his hands on her, caressing and arousing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The smell of his hair as he shifted, burying his face in her neck. His tongue traced her neck from her shoulder up to the curve of bone behind her ear, as desire moved hot and liquid through her body, pooling between her legs in familiar, wet arousal.

A voice intruded. Raspy and feminine, it sang, "You were wrong wrong wrong, then you were gone gone gone," with a background of darkly strumming guitars.

Joely pushed herself back, her heart beating so hard it made her dizzy. "That's enough, Rey." Her words didn't sound as forceful as she'd intended. In fact, they sounded almost plaintive, as if she'd said, "Please don't stop," instead.

But he let go of her and leaned back as she rose from the couch to walk back into the kitchen. "I'll just do the dishes," she said. "You can turn on the TV or something, if you like."

The CD was still playing, though. Rey made no move to turn it off, in spite of the imprecations the singer was hurling at her ex. She dared a glance over her shoulder. He just sat there, staring at her.

"Maybe you should go," she said.

"I can't." He grinned sheepishly. "The lady at the lodge says I'm not welcome back. I'm not sure what I did, but it must have been bad."

Thin-lipped, Joely stared down at the dirty dishes. You engaged Virginia's imagination. "I'll call her. I'm sure I can change her mind."

There was a long pause, almost long enough to make Joely look up, but she stared resolutely at the sink. Finally Rey said, "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

She stirred the soapy water with her hand, watching the detergent bubbles cling to her skin. "No. You can sleep on the couch."

Behind them, the jilted lover sang, "And when you came back, I just kissed you and said h.e.l.lo again."

Chapter Four.

Rey offered to help Joely with the dishes, but she told him no. She had no desire to have him that close to her for more than two or three seconds at a time, for fear she might do something she would regret. Like pull off all his clothes and rub herself all over his naked body. So she told him to relax and not worry about the dishes. He stayed on the couch, and when the CD had run its course, he turned on the TV.

Listening to him flip channels, Joely had a thought. "Where's your luggage?"

"In the trunk of my car."

She wiped the last plate dry. "You should probably go get it, then, if you're staying."

He twisted sideways, looking at her over the top of the couch. His gaze scanned her face, searching. She wasn't sure what he wanted to see. Schooling her features-except for an eyebrow that insisted on quirking upward-she met his scrutiny evenly.

"You at least want a toothbrush or something," she said finally.

Whatever he'd been looking for on her face, he must not have found it, because now he looked disappointed. "Yeah. Probably."

He rolled off the couch and walked toward the door. She yanked the plug out of the bottom of the sink and stood for a moment watching the water drain. When it had finally emptied, she dried her hands and went back into the living room.

The couch was still warm where he'd been lying. She laid her hand on the warm s.p.a.ce and sat still for a moment. His smell lingered. Reluctantly, she drew her hand away and moved to the other end of the couch. She'd just settled into a spot when he came back in, lugging a large suitcase and a smaller computer bag. He set them down next to the couch.

"So this is my room?" The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Yes."

He sat next to her. She stood up, to get away from his warmth, his smell, all the temptation they sparked

in her. "I'm going to bed."

"It's eight o'clock," he said, dubious.

Joely got the feeling Rey knew exactly why she was trying to leave. "I'm tired," she protested weakly.

He pointed at the TV. "I thought you liked this show."

Joely hesitated, surprised he remembered. "Well, I-"

"Just sit down and watch it. I won't bite."

"I'm not worried about getting bitten." Although biting wasn't necessarily a bad thing...

He shrugged, his smile not quite smug. "Okay, I won't touch you, then."

That hit closer to the root of the problem. She waffled again, then gave in and sat at the far end of the

couch. Which still didn't leave much room between them. She could still smell him, could feel his warmth

if she concentrated a little. She really needed a bigger couch.

He kept his promise, though, and gradually her unease faded. Fifteen minutes later, they were laughing companionably over the antics of the familiar characters. They'd always enjoyed watching TV together, though usually they'd sat much closer together, close enough she could feel his laughter before it started. Even now, with the distance between them, she felt some of the same camaraderie. Especially since they both still laughed at the same jokes. Maybe there was a chance, after all.

She forced her thoughts away from maybes, and made herself concentrate on the television. Finally, about halfway through the late news, she found herself yawning.

"Tired?" Rey asked.

"Yeah. And I have to get up in the morning to go to work." She headed for the hall closet. "Let's get that bed made up."

"Just toss me some blankets. I'll take care of it."

That worked. If he made up the couch himself, she wouldn't have to help him. Wouldn't have to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him thinking about the two of them together in bed, under sheets, over sheets, tangled in them.

No, much better if he did it himself. So she tossed him sheets, a blanket, a quilt and a pillow from the hallway. He caught them, looking bemused.

"I don't need this many blankets."

"That's what you think, city boy." She tossed him another blanket. "Weren't you watching the weather?"

"Yeah. Do you really think it'll snow tonight? It's only October."

"Snow in October is par for the course in Colorado." She closed the linen closet. "There are more blankets in here if you need them." With that, she turned and left him standing there alone, arms full of blankets.

Alone in her room, she changed into her purple flannel pajamas. Not exactly s.e.xy, but certainly warm.

Now why in the world would you need s.e.xy pajamas? It's not as if he's going to come in here and take them off you. She rolled her eyes at her own wandering thoughts and crawled into bed.

But, in spite of nearly drifting off during the news, now she couldn't sleep at all. She lay awake looking at the ceiling, thinking about Rey in the other room. He'd never slept in more than a pair of boxers; she doubted he had on anything more right now. Maybe he was asleep already, hair tousled, drooling on the pillow.

How had he managed to get past her barriers so quickly? She'd been determined to protect herself, and now here he was in her house, sleeping in his underwear on her couch only a room away. All this after fourteen months, during which he'd barely tried to contact her...

She sat up suddenly, tossing back the covers. On the shelf in her closet was a white s...o...b..x she could barely reach. Straining upwards on her toes, she caught hold of it and managed to maneuver it down into her hands.

She carried it back to the bed and covered herself back up, tucking the blankets around her lap. She let the house get quite cool at night, to keep her electric bill down and to prevent having to keep more than a small fire burning in the stove. So, before she opened the box, she made sure she was cozy.

Even then, she stared at the box's lid for a time before she finally pushed it open. Inside were twelve letters. Unopened, addressed to her, in Rey's handwriting.

He'd tried. He'd called her several times, as well. He'd even called her mother to track down her phone number, and Joely knew he'd rather have dental work done than talk to his mother-in-law. She'd never opened his letters, and had used Caller ID to avoid his calls.

What had she been afraid of? Had she thought maybe he would say something that would change her mind? Why hadn't she given him a chance, back then?

She picked up the top letter and slid her index finger under the envelope's flap. There was a small tearing sound. She stopped. For a moment, she sat frozen like that, the tip of her finger ready to tear the envelope open. Then she put the letter back, closed the box, and stuffed it under the bed.

Whatever she'd been afraid of then, she was afraid of the same thing now. Afraid of opening herself up again, of getting hurt.

Or maybe she was just afraid it was too late.

She lay there, curled up in the blankets, curled around her heart, remembering what it had been like to have him next to her in bed, just sleeping, his warmth suffusing the blankets. A man in bed could come in handy on those cold mountain nights. The alt.i.tude sucked the heat out of the air even in the depths of the summer. And he was just down the tiny hallway, wasting all that glorious male heat on her couch cushions.

Resolutely, she grabbed her spare pillow, wrapped her arm around it and closed her eyes. She'd slept alone in this bed for fourteen months, and she'd stayed plenty warm enough. She would be fine.

The couch was too short. Way too short. Rey b.u.t.ted his feet up against the armrest, but his head was still squished against the other one. He could put his head on top of the armrest, but it was uncomfortable, digging into his neck and squishing his ear. The pillow helped, but not enough.

He was never going to get to sleep at this rate. Adding to his frustration was the thought that Joely was only a room away in a perfectly comfortable bed that undoubtedly had more room for him in it than this stupid couch did. He'd even promise not to touch her, if he could just get enough room to stretch out flat on his back.