Instead, she got . . . Nothing.
She clenched her hands together in her lap. Maybe he didn’t care. No sex, no problem. No magic.
The lovemaking that had rocked her world had barely caused a ripple in his.
She cast a resentful glance at his sunlit profile. He drove with one muscled forearm propped on the steering wheel, the wind ruffling his gold-tipped hair. Only a slight squint between his eyebrows betrayed that this was anything 174
V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
other than a vacation to him. As if the future didn’t exist.
As if last night had never happened.
Miles rol ed by. Trucks roared past. They rattled on in silence, the distance between them growing as the sun climbed the sky.
He reached behind his seat, rummaging with one hand until he turned up a battered bal cap. He tossed the hat into her lap. “Put that on. You don’t want to burn.”
His casual thoughtfulness left her yearning and confused.
She fingered the winged P of the Philadelphia Flyers on the front of the cap. There was a certain irony in the logo she wasn’t in a mood to appreciate. “What about you?”
“I’m used to the sun. You’re not.”
She adjusted the visor, shading her eyes so he wouldn’t see the vulnerability in them. “Nice of you to make al owances for my lack of experience.”
She wasn’t referring only to sun exposure. Maybe if she were more practiced, more skil ed, better in bed, Iestyn would actual y care whether or not they ever had sex again.
Or maybe, she thought drearily, she wouldn’t care so much.
Either way, the bite in her voice only made him grin. He returned his attention to the road.
He was so attuned to her physical y. So capable of supplying what she needed in the present moment. So absolutely clueless that she was in danger of fal ing in love with him.
Frustrated, she stared at the passing landscape, low bridges and highway signs, long green medians and endless guard rails. Hamden. Hartford. Worcester.
If she weren’t such a coward, she would confront him with her feelings. But that could place them both in an untenable position. More was at stake here than her bruised heart and pathetic pride. She had found him. She had F o r g o t t e n s e a 175
helped him find himself, his true nature, and now she was bringing him home. He
She blinked fiercely. She had to believe it, or everything she’d risked up to this moment was for nothing.
But she wasn’t like him. He lived in the moment, carefree, confident, so sure of himself, while she planned and she worried and she . . .
Slept.
*
*
*
She was sleeping. Good.
Iestyn figured Lara deserved a rest. She wasn’t the type to take things easy. Even riding beside him in the passenger seat, she was revved. He could practical y hear her mind turning over, her body coiled tight as an overwound spring.
She needed to learn to relax.
The tangle of traffic smoothed out after Boston. New Hampshire passed in a blur of lottery bil boards and liquor warehouses set against a background of pines. In the sunlit fields, flocks of birds gathered and rose as if it were already fal .
As they approached the Maine border, the road curved in a gentle sweeping turn to the right. The thick green girders of a bridge arched against the blue sky and over a broad river. The scent of the tidal inlet rose and smacked him.
The smel of the sea.
His throat clenched. His soul soared. Against the basin of rock, the water shone, deep blue-green and impossibly clear.
Lara whimpered in her sleep. He glanced over. The shadow of the bridge flickered across her face.
Nightmares, he thought. No surprise, after the past twenty-four hours.
He wondered if last night had stirred some old, bad 176
V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
memories to life. The thought twisted his gut. He’d been as gentle as he knew how to be. But despite her unfeigned physical response, she’d been quick to dismiss the possibility of a replay.
Because of demons, she said.
Or did she regret making love with him?
