Uncharted Waters Part 10

"No chance," she said firmly.

Kevin lay back in the pillow and smiled at her. Alison stared down at him and grinned back, loving him so much that her throat tightened with emotion. "Did you thank Drew for fixing your Zoomer 57 Skyeagle, honey?"

Before she could stop him, Kevin scrambled out of bed, crossed the room at a full gallop, jumped two feet into the air and threw his arms and legs around Drew. "Thanks, Drew!"

For an instant Drew looked stunned with the open show of affection. His eyes met hers as he put his arms around Kevin. Alison watched, moved and fascinated as Drew closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the boy's head. "You're welcome, sprout."

She stared at man and boy for several long seconds, aware that her heart was thrumming hard in her chest, that she couldn't speak. When Drew eased Kevin gently to arm's length and Kevin smiled at him, she felt something inside her shift and begin to freefall. The rightness of the moment moved her so profoundly that she couldn't look away. For an instant, she thought she was going to make a fool of herself and burst into tears.

Instead, she crossed to Kevin, took him gently by the shoulders and guided him back to bed. "Don't forget to say your prayers," she said with a firmness she didn't feel.

"'Kay, Mommy."

She kissed him again. "Good night, sweetheart."

"See you in the morning, Drew."

"Seven a.m. sharp," Drew said from the door. "Don't be late."

"I won't."

When she turned and started toward the door, she could hear Kevin praying, and he was praying to his daddy.

Drew knew better than to let that sweet little boy get to him. But every time he thought about Kevin growing up without a father-perhaps because of something Drew had or hadn't done-his heart simply broke. Technically, he knew Rick's death wasn't his fault, and the Navy bra.s.s had cleared him of any negligence. But Drew had always held himself to higher standards. It had been Drew who'd looked into Rick's eyes that night and seen the horror and the terrible knowledge of his impending death. He'd held his best friend's life in his hands. Felt him slip. Watched him fall. Failed him.

Take care...Alison and Kevin...

Keenly aware that his hands were shaking, that his heart was beating a hard tattoo against his ribs, he walked alone into the living room. Two cups of coffee sat neatly on the coffee table. He stood motionless, staring at them, not sure if he wanted to stay or leave, wondering which would cost him more.

"He went out like a light."

He looked up to see Alison walk into the living room. There was a wariness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. He wondered if it was because she'd seen his reaction to Kevin's mention of Rick or maybe she was one of those women who had radar when it came to knowing when a man was having inappropriate thoughts.

Taking in the length of her in that dress, he was definitely having inappropriate thoughts.

As casually as possible, Drew looked at his watch. "I'll hold off until about eight o'clock tomorrow morning, so he doesn't have to get up so early."

She nodded. "Great. I don't like for him to get overtired. You know, because of the asthma."

Several tense seconds pa.s.sed. Drew didn't know what to do with his hands. He didn't know quite where to keep his eyes, but found that they went repeatedly to her legs where the velvet flesh of her calves made him wonder just how soft the flesh of her thighs was. He wondered what it would be like to touch her there. To run his hands over those silky calves, up to her thighs, and finally to the curve of hip and secret places he desperately wanted to know.

The image sent a hot rush of blood to his groin. The power of it disturbed him deeply, made him incredulous because he hadn't even touched her and already he was rock-hard and aching.

He needed to get the h.e.l.l out of there before he did something stupid. One mistake could be forgiven. Two could not.

"I poured you a cup of coffee. Stay for five minutes?" She smiled. "It's decaf."

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other to accommodate jeans that suddenly felt too tight, he looked over at Alison, trying hard to keep his eyes on hers and not that d.a.m.n dress she was wearing. "I'd better go."

"Oh, well, okay," she said just a little too quickly. Then she c.o.c.ked her head and looked at him closely. "I hope Kevin's comment about Rick didn't upset you."

The words jolted him. Not because he was surprised to hear them, but because now he knew she was going to expect him to discuss a subject he had absolutely no desire to broach.

"Alison-"

"He does that occasionally. Just brings up his dad out of the blue."

"How much have you told him?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Not a whole lot. Just that his dad was a Navy search-and-rescue para jumper. That he was a pilot. A good man and a good father and that he was killed in an accident."

Hearing the words spoken aloud made sweat break out on the back of his neck. Drew looked away.

"He's too young for me to get into any of the details."

Drew wondered if those details would include the fact that he'd been the one to let go of him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. It's just..." He sighed. "It's a tough subject, that's all."

"It is for me, too." She paused. "But I'm able to talk about it."

He didn't like the direction the conversation was going, so he said nothing at all.

"It's been four years, Drew."

"I know how long it's been," he snapped.

"You've dealt with his death, haven't you? I mean, you've come to terms with it, right?"

"Of course I have."

"When Kevin mentioned Rick, you looked as if you were about to come apart at the seams."

He hated it that he was so transparent. He hated even more the fact that he suddenly felt very vulnerable. "Just because I don't like to talk about the night my best friend died doesn't mean I haven't come to terms."

"I know. I just...I want to make sure you're not blaming yourself."

"I hate that it happened. There's a difference."

"Sometimes, you seem troubled. It's like when you look at me, I see something in your eyes. Something you try to hide, but don't quite manage. A shadow that shouldn't be there."

"Don't psychoa.n.a.lyze me, Alison. I don't like it."

"I don't like seeing you eaten alive by guilt."

"You're reading something into it that isn't there."

"Am I, Drew? Am I really?"

He wanted to laugh at her, prove to her she was wrong, only he couldn't because her words were hitting too d.a.m.n close to home.

When he didn't answer, she continued. "The Navy cleared you. Everyone who was there and knew what happened that night knows you were not to blame in any way. Everyone except for you."

"You don't know what I think."

"Then why won't you sit down and tell me? It's been four years and yet we've never talked about it. Why do we have to keep dancing around the subject? Why is it that every time I bring it up, you suddenly find a reason to leave?"

"Maybe I just don't feel like being put on the spot about that night," he said sharply.

Pain flashed in her eyes, and he was instantly sorry for his harsh tone. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Alison. He knew she was only trying to help. But d.a.m.n it, she wasn't helping. In fact, she was making everything worse. He didn't need her help. He didn't want it. And he sure as h.e.l.l didn't feel up to having his feelings poured onto a slide and a.n.a.lyzed like some kind of scientific anomaly.

He started for the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Drew."

He didn't stop. "I'll be over at about eight o'clock. I'd appreciate if you'd have Kevin ready to go."

"Drew... d.a.m.n it. Wait."

Shoving open the front door, he stepped out onto the porch and sucked in a deep breath of cool night air, realizing for the first time how badly he needed to breathe.

"Guilt can be a terrible thing," she said from behind him. "It can be a horrible burden for someone to carry inside him for a long period of time."

He didn't turn to face her. "Let it go, Alison."

"I can't. Not when I can plainly see that you're hurting. You're wrong to blame yourself."

"You weren't there. You don't know what went down."

"I know what I see now. And it's killing me to see you this way."

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the way Rick had looked when he'd been holding on for his life. He saw panic and terror jammed into five seconds of pure h.e.l.l. He could still smell the stink of burning fuel oil. He remembered vividly how it had felt when Rick's hand slipped from his grasp.

He turned to her. "This isn't your problem."

"You're my friend. Of course it is."

"Exactly how do you think you can help?"

"I don't know. We could...talk it out. Get counseling."

"Talking doesn't change the way things are. It can't rewrite the past and it sure as h.e.l.l can't bring Rick back."

"Maybe not, but it can help you deal with his death. It can help you put things into perspective."

He thought about the weeks he'd seen the Navy shrink, and shook his head. He wondered how talking to some doctor with a fancy t.i.tle could put the death of a man into perspective. He looked over his shoulder at Alison and wondered if it could help him deal with his l.u.s.t for that man's wife. "Look, if you change your mind about tomorrow, call me, okay?" He started for the porch steps.

"Why won't you talk to me? Why won't you look at me? d.a.m.n it, Drew, what are you afraid of?"

Her words stopped him in midstride. Angry, he turned back to her-and froze. The sight of her standing beneath the porch light made his pulse spike. He could see the silhouette of her thighs through the thin material of the dress. They were slender and long and...incredible. Her hair shone like silk beneath the light, as if each strand were a different shade of blond. Her eyes were concerned and wary and level on his. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but she'd pushed him too far.

"Are you sure you really want to know what I'm afraid of?" he asked.

She stared at him, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. In the back of his mind he wondered why she was breathing hard. Wondered if she was angry or exasperated with him. Or maybe she was as aroused as he was.

The thought sparked a fire that burned a path straight to his groin. Logic faltered and failed. His control left him with an almost audible snap. He started toward her at a brisk clip. Alison stepped back. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came.

He reached her an instant later and looked deeply into her eyes. "You really want to know what I'm afraid of?" he repeated. "Do you?"

Her eyes were luminous beneath the porch light. Within their blue depths he saw his fate, and he knew how this moment was going to end. He'd already lost the battle with his conscience, with his intellect, with his control. All he had to do now was lose the war, and he was well on his way to doing just that.

When she didn't answer his question, he took her lovely face into his hands. "This," he said and crushed his mouth to hers.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Alison knew kissing Drew was a bad idea. An instant before his mouth came down on hers, the intellectual side of her brain sent out a barrage of alarms loud enough to rattle her teeth, warning her to disengage herself, walk back into the house and lock the door behind her. Maybe because she knew what would happen next. Maybe because she knew there was no way this could end any way but disastrously. But even knowing all of those things, she didn't push him away.

His mouth seared hers, his tongue seeking entry. Even as she told herself this was wrong, that it would only lead to heartache for both of them, she opened to him. He tasted her, making a sound low in his throat, and she felt her body go fluid in his arms.

Slipping his hand to her nape, he tilted her mouth to his. His body shifted close. Hers answered involuntarily, falling softly against him. His left hand skimmed down her back to her hip. A low growl emanated from deep in his throat when he cupped her backside and squeezed. He deepened the kiss, his breaths coming hard and fast against her cheek, keeping time with the rapid-fire beat of her heart.

Alison saw stars. Great explosions of white light as the blood rushed from her brain to other parts of her body. Dizziness swooped down on her. To keep herself from sliding to the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He responded, pressing his body full-length against hers. The feel of him stunned her. He was powerfully built, and she had to smother a gasp when she felt his erection against her belly, like a thick steel rod prodding her.

"You feel the way I thought you would," he growled. "Too d.a.m.n good."

She closed her eyes against the power of the sensations pelting her. He feasted on her mouth, plundering like a man deprived. Her control teetered and began to slip away. Vaguely she was aware of the porch light shining down on them, and realized belatedly that this wasn't the best place to do this. Breaking free, she sucked in a breath, realized that she was panting. That her pulse was pounding like a freight train in her ears.

"W-wait," she managed to gasp.

He didn't wait. Before she could take another breath, the heat of his mouth singed her neck. She felt the wetness of his tongue against her throat, and her head lolled back, giving him better access. Another alarm blared when his fingers fumbled at the b.u.t.tons on the front of her dress. But at the same time her b.r.e.a.s.t.s grew heavy in antic.i.p.ation. An involuntary moan escaped her when his knuckles brushed over her nipples. She'd never ached like this. Never needed with such ferocity. Never felt as if her body belonged to somebody else.

"This probably isn't a good place to do this," he whispered.

"Neighbors," she said between breaths.

Somehow he'd managed to get the door open. Never taking his mouth from hers, he guided her inside, then closed the door behind them with his foot. Locked in an awkward dance, he brought his body against hers. A gasp of pleasure escaped her. The next thing she knew she felt the cool wood of the door against her spine as he backed her against it.