Sunburst

Chapter 12

Erica sat at the small dressing table in the loft where she usually put on her makeup. For an hour, she had been waiting to hear Kyle enter the house. She’d all but thrown off the clothes she’d been wearing, listening. She’d showered, listening. She put on a simple white shift and sat down, still listening.

It seemed unbearably warm and she threw her head forward, lacing her fingers behind her neck to lift off the heavy weight of hair. She ought to get it cut. When she’d first met Kyle it had been cap-curl short; he had coaxed her into letting it grow until haircuts had become trims, and finally only Kyle took the scissors to even it. Her mane, he called it on occasion. Hair! she shrieked silently. The last thing on her mind was hair…

She kept waiting, ready to spring up the moment she heard his footsteps downstairs. She had a dozen speeches prepared…

Kyle, I don’t care what it looked like. Please listen…

Kyle, your best friend attacked me…

Kyle, I wrecked that yellow blouse on a nail; the thing just ripped. Wasn’t that stupid?

Kyle, I love you.

Where was he? What was he thinking? Another half hour passed, and still he didn’t come. Restlessly, Erica got up and walked to the window. Dusk had already fallen. She couldn’t see Morgan’s trailer, but the truck was no longer parked in its customary spot, nor was Morgan’s car. She stood and stared until it was too dark to see, and then moved aimlessly to the bed. She didn’t often have headaches, but at the moment her temples were pounding so badly it hurt to move. She lay down and stared at the ceiling. Her whole body felt like a massive electrical system on overload. Anxiety overload. Only gradually did that emotion shift to anger.

She’d be damned if she was going to lose Kyle because of Morgan. Problems between herself and Kyle… perhaps. But not Morgan. That man… She’d scrubbed and scrubbed in the shower, trying to get rid of the sensation of being forced, the humiliating horror of being helpless. Over and over, she’d relived her own guilt in the ugly morass. Could her own actions have led him to believe she was interested? The hugs she’d thought meant to be only affectionate… She played all of it over and over in her brain. Perhaps he had misinterpreted her actions, but she had intended only friendship. It mattered.

But nothing mattered now except her own relationship with Kyle. She closed her eyes. Anger was soothing the terrible anxiety. Anger had always been missing before; she hated the emotion and gave it a wide berth. She shook at the first shouted word, would a thousand times prefer to turn the other cheek. Assertiveness was a nice buzzword, easier said than done.

For more than six months, she’d tiptoed around Kyle, believing he needed her understanding, forcing no issues because she was afraid of the answers. Those tactics hadn’t worked, and she wanted her mate back. She’d remained passive, being gentle and careful and tentative. Softness was just a little too much of a luxury now. She was no child. She knew what she wanted.

She remembered the look on Kyle’s face in the truck as he caught sight of her standing in the yard, her blouse ripped… Were they together at the moment? Was Morgan telling him…?

She and Kyle had gained ground in a thousand ways, she thought fleetingly. When they’d made love; the dozen little incidents when they’d found themselves happy together; she’d learned of his background from Martha, and several times she’d thought he was trying to open up, tell her his feelings… She wasn’t going to lose him because of Morgan, and she didn’t care what Morgan told him.

Of course she did. Because if Kyle thought she had been unfaithful…

Heartsick, she thought about fighting and felt like crying. Her eyes stayed closed.

Bright sunlight streamed in onto the bed. Erica’s eyes fluttered open, and she came to immediate wakefulness when she found herself staring at Kyle’s sleeping face, as she felt the weight of his arm around her. She didn’t breathe for a moment. Deep shadows were etched beneath his eyes; his clothes were strewn all over the floor. The sheet barely covered his hips as if he’d hardly cared the night before if he was covered or not. So he had come to bed in exhaustion. But he had come…

Silently, she edged out from under his arm and got out of bed. Padding to the bathroom, she ran a comb through her hair and brushed her teeth, then drew on panties and a pair of crisp white jeans. Her heart was doing triple time as she walked back to the bed and sat down gingerly next to Kyle’s hip. She took a breath before running her fingertips up his chest. He didn’t stir. But his blue eyes opened promptly enough when her bare breasts brushed his chest and her lips found the hollow between his bristly chin and his neck.

“Good morning,” she murmured. “It’s seven o’clock, Kyle. Thursday. We have a date with a Cessna at ten, and neither of us has packed item one.”

He said nothing, just stared at her with sleep-laden eyes. There was no smile to match her own, just an effort to waken, to reach out from the disorientation of sleep. She pressed a kiss in the hollow of his throat again and then stood up, stretching with all the lazy sensuality of an accomplished stripper. Well…amateur stripper.

The instant flare of turquoise in his eyes said she wasn’t doing too badly. Before he really woke, before he remembered…anything, she went on talking as she opened and closed drawers. “I thought I’d just pack a few clothes in duffel bags. We won’t need much. I have to take the cat to Martha’s. Don’t say anything; I’m not leaving Nuisance out if it rains. I know you’ve got a tent somewhere; I aired out the sleeping bags yesterday morning. I never thought to go to the bank. Did you get money?”

She turned, still smiling. He was no longer impressed with her bare breasts gleaming in golden sunlight, with her hair like fire brushing against her shoulders, with the snug jeans she had chosen for exactly what they did for her thighs and bottom. Betrayal was in his eyes, a chill so cold, an accusation, a silence… She turned back to the drawers, neatly folding the few things she needed on top of the dresser. Her heart had plummeted to the lower depths…

“Are we going to be able to get fishing equipment into the plane? I thought I’d put together a box of staples. Drinks and peanut butter…the kind of stuff we’d need to eat outside. Paper plates. Where we’re going doesn’t exactly sound like restaurant country. Did you hear the weather report yesterday? It’s supposed to be hot-”

“Erica…”

She lifted her chin stubbornly, as she turned one more time from putting the last of her clothes in the small bag. She lifted it. “Would you believe this is all I need? I figured a change of jeans and a couple of tops.” Her voice was faltering in spite of herself. “I’ll wear tennis shoes and take along a pair of sandals. I’ll put your stuff together as soon as I’ve made us both some breakfast…”

“What the hell are you playing at?” He had lurched up to a sitting position in bed, his bare chest soaking in the morning sun, his black hair tousled and boyish. But there was nothing boyish about his face, his eyes. His look was grim, and his shoulders were tense, and his blue eyes pierced hers, trying to make sense of her magpie chatter. “You seem to be under the impression we’re going somewhere together this morning,” he interrupted harshly.

Her stomach promptly made three somersaults. She turned away quickly, absently running a hand through her hair. “I think that’s really all I have to remember, Kyle. There shouldn’t be any trouble getting it all together in a couple of hours. I’ll make bacon and eggs-”

“Erica-”

She beamed a radiant smile at him from the doorway. “Obviously, though, I’ll have to get on the stick if we’re going to be ready on time-”

“You are not going anywhere.”

“We are, dammit!”

Her furious tone seemed to come out of nowhere, startling Kyle. That cold-blooded stare of his seemed to die as he became aware of exactly what her cheerfulness cost her. No matter what he believed she had done, she knew he was reacting to her, to Erica, to years of shielding his lady from trouble she couldn’t handle. Mixed emotions seemed to run through his head, and then he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at her. “All right, we are,” he agreed grimly. “God knows we’re not going to solve anything at this particular moment. Here. Now.” Almost reluctantly, a faint hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “But, no, Erica, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I-”