Sunburst

kitchen.

The friction had disappeared. They talked the way they had always talked, man to man, with a firm respect for each other and a wary sharing of perspective. Wary, because the two men were competitive as all hell, a fact that continually amused Erica. She could not imagine having a female friend with whom competition was the basis of the friendship; yet between the men it was fundamental.

She leaned over the counter when the chores were done, idly watching the scene below. Morgan was stretched out with his arms behind his head and one knee crossed over the other, a foot tapping rhythmically in the air. Morgan didn’t know how to be still. When he talked, some part of his body talked as well. He was openly irritated when Kyle was right; Kyle was often right, and then Morgan’s foot went back and forth like a hand fan on a hot day.

Kyle gave nothing away by such body language. His legs were stretched out, bare feet crossed at the ankles, the sleeves of his dark sweatshirt pushed up above his elbows revealing the thick dark hair that curled on his arms under the glow of the lamp. His face was in shadow; his jeans were stretched tight across his thighs. He was absolutely still except for his eyes, in which Erica saw a razor-sharp perception. He missed nothing. Kyle inhaled life, took everything in. Morgan picked up a single emotion at a time and lived it until the next one came along.

The differences between the two men had always intrigued her, yet Erica sighed, feeling a wave of fatigue as the hour grew late. She and Kyle had both been up since six. She moved down the three steps to settle on the couch with a cup of coffee, doubting that it would effectively keep her awake. Morgan smiled at her, immediately changing the conversation as he rose to offer her a glass of kirsch.

“I still haven’t figured out what you two are up to,” Morgan said to Kyle. “I knew you were coming back here after your father died and that it was going to take some time to take care of everything. I guess I just assumed that you meant to sell the place. Not…dig in here.”

A moment passed before Kyle answered. For the first time, it occurred to Erica that Morgan had always been the one who was quick to confide, that Kyle had always been the one to bolster his friend in a crisis instead of the other way around. “I always did swear I’d never come back here,” he admitted finally, leaning his head back. “But before my father died, I promised him… Hell, Shane, it doesn’t matter.” He hesitated, masking a sudden brooding look as he stood up and turned away to pour himself a drink. “We’re back here, indefinitely. That’s all.”

“But neither one of you can possibly want to settle in a town this small. I can’t imagine what Erica finds to do here. And, Kyle, I thought you never got on with your father. You used to talk about this woodworking business as if you thought it was the pits.”

“I used to think that way,” Kyle agreed.

“You wanted money even more than I did. To get on top where no one could ever touch you. Success…”

“And I played that game for more than ten years.” Kyle suddenly smiled wryly. “You and I always thought exactly alike, Shane. Get out of our way, world, because we’re going up! You were in competition with your father, I was running from the life my father led. It doesn’t matter. Maybe everyone has to get out of the race at some point.”

Morgan stared at him. “So you’re saying you just want a break, then. That I can understand. I thought you were talking about living here permanently.”

Kyle said very quietly, “I don’t know.” Leave it, his tone of voice urged. Now.

Erica sipped her kirsch, unsettled by Morgan’s probing. She knew nothing of a promise Kyle had made to his father, but she was acutely conscious that he had said nothing to Morgan about the debts Joel had left for them to pay off. More than that, she could see in Kyle the almost imperceptible change that seemed to come over him whenever someone mentioned his father. A slight stiffening of his shoulders, a chill replacing the warm and vibrant expression in his eyes… As though he were haunted by guilt, she thought, when that just couldn’t be. Kyle had been a wonderful son to Joel, generous and concerned. They had lived some distance apart, of course…

“…covered with stain and her hands full of paint thinner!” Morgan was laughing.

“I can’t keep her out of it.” Kyle’s brooding blue eyes flickered to hers. “You should see some of the projects she’s taken on.”

“Now I’m beginning to get the picture,” Morgan said, grinning. “The lady’s the monkey wrench you hadn’t expected to find in the works, Kyle? Maybe it’s the image of raising kids in the country-”

“I’m here,” Erica reminded them pleasantly.

“The lady’s loyal. But then, in the first throes of idealism people are always filled with enthusiasm,” Kyle continued to Morgan.

“I beg your pardon-”

But Morgan was staring deliberately at Kyle. “That will last until she misses her spring trip to Paris to buy clothes. The swimming pool in the backyard, the country club. Everything she grew up to expect. You can’t give it to her here, can you, Kyle?”

Kyle finished his drink, looking at Morgan, not bothering to answer. Erica felt a knot twist in the pit of her stomach. Morgan’s tone was light; he couldn’t possibly know what a knife wound he had just inflicted on Kyle.

“Morgan,” she said flatly, “I have never in my life gone to Paris to buy clothes.”

“No,” Kyle agreed quietly, “it was New York you and your mother went to for your shopping sprees. Twice a year.” He stood up and stretched. “Maybe it’s time we all called it a night. Morgan, you’re going to be here through the morning?”

Morgan shook his head, standing, too. “I’ve got to get back pretty early. This stopover was stolen time as it was.”

The two men talked a few minutes longer, while Erica got up to take the glasses to the kitchen, then fetched linens to make the couch up as a bed for Morgan. Her stomach was still tied up in knots. The two of them always played the old men-against-the-women war when the trio was together; usually it amused her. It didn’t tonight. They both made it sound as though she valued material things above all else. In the past, she knew they had been very important to her, and yes, occasionally she missed the freedom to buy a steak instead of hamburger or to have fresh strawberries out of season. She was no saint. But she didn’t miss those biannual shopping expeditions, or the swank house in Florida, or Beluga caviar. And her new life offered certain riches she had never had before-the thrill of building something together, a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in her own work, the pleasure of being an active participant in their marriage, in their…life. It was an opportunity to share a life as they never had before.

If Kyle wanted her there. But ever since they moved, he had fought every single thing she tried to do to help him. For Erica, it was like discovering a rainbow that disappeared every time she came close. She saw the chance to achieve a real depth that had been missing in their marriage before; yet each time she went in search of it, Kyle-her Kyle-disappeared, walled up inside himself.

She finished making up the couch. The two men had collapsed in their chairs again, and were once more discussing solar energy. Wearily, she sat on the carpet beside Kyle, leaning her head back against his knee. She was frankly dead on her feet, but she was not going to bed without him. No way. The stiff posture of pride he’d erected as a barrier between them made her ache with the desire to bridge the gap.

She heard none of their conversation. Absently, Kyle’s fingers were playing with her silky hair as he continued talking, lifting and smoothing the tresses with gentle fingertips. His touch was so soft it brought a quiver inside, a sensual desire to lean her head back even farther and bare her throat for him. Was she perhaps too sensitive to his every mood, making a mountain out of the molehill of his recent indifference? But that sensitivity was a gift as well, when Kyle’s slightest touch could evoke such an incredible languid sensuality from deep within her.

“If nothing else, you could generate power for a hot-water system that way. I was reading…”

“Your wife always did have eyes too big for her face when she was tired, Kyle,” Morgan interrupted abruptly. “I think Erica’s about to fall asleep against your leg. Maybe it is time we called it a night.”

Erica raised her head, startled at the tone of his voice. Morgan was staring at her with a strange expression- displeasure, something tight and controlled in the set of his jaw. She felt an odd kind of embarrassment, as if she were a teenager caught by a parent in some intimacy, when of course there was nothing like that. She glanced back at Kyle, who was viewing Morgan with narrowed eyes, his face too much in shadow for her to discern his exact expression. Kyle’s hand suddenly tightened possessively on her shoulder, and then he urged her to her feet with a