his.
Sweaters and jeans and socks and underthings fell into haphazard piles around the sleeping bag. Firelight bathed their bodies as they explored each other, but they would have been plenty warm even without the fire. The heat they generated between them was enough to bring a fine sheen of perspiration to their bare skin.
Banner disappeared long enough to close his dog in the kitchen, and when he returned, he carried a couple of small foil squares that Lucy recognized as condoms. There would be no unwelcome repercussions of this afternoon-at least, no physical ones. The emotional aftereffects remained to be seen.
Confident that she could handle whatever might happen between them because she wouldn't allow herself to expect too much, she gave herself over to pleasure.
Lucy hadn't expected Banner to talk during lovemaking, and he hadn't. She thought he might say something, at least, afterward. Instead he lay on his back, staring at the living room ceiling, his face absolutely motionless except for the dancing of shadows from the fire. He had been active enough earlier. Had he used all his energy?
Lying on her side, she rose on one elbow to study him. His hair was a mess-her hands had done that. There was a small smudge of lipstick on his throat-she had done that, too. She suspected that if she could see his back, she might detect a faint scratch or two.
She had definitely left her mark on him. Just as he had left his mark on her heart-invisible, but real, nonetheless.
“Banner?”
“Mmm?” he responded without looking at her.
“Have you gone comatose?”
His mouth twitched with what might have been a smile. “Maybe.”
“How long do you think it will take you to recover?”
“I'm not sure that I will.”
She smiled. “I think I'll take that as a compliment.”
He glanced at her then, his dark eyes gleaming. “It was meant as one.”
Resting a hand on his chest, she spread her fingers and admired the contrast between her fair skin and his tan. “I never expected anything like this when I set out on this trip.”
“Kind of took me by surprise, too.”
She walked her fingers up his chest to the very shallow indention in his chin. “You make a very nice Christmas present, Richard Merchant Banner.”
He frowned, and she wondered if it was due to her words or her use of the full name he didn't particularly like. “I, uh…”
Whatever he had intended to say, he apparently changed his mind. Instead he set her hand aside and rolled to his feet. “I think I'll take a shower. I'll use the master bath, so you can have the front one.”
“Okay, thank-”
He was gone before she could complete the sentence. And if Lucy had ever seen a panicky escape, that had been one.
Too much? Too soon?
She knew the feeling. But maybe she was dealing with it a bit better than Banner.
Sighing lightly, she reached for an afghan, pulling it around her as she padded toward the bathroom, her clothes in her hands. She wondered what the odds were that Banner would talk to her about his feelings when he finally reappeared.
For some reason, she wasn't overly optimistic about it.
Chapter Twelve
Banner busied himself cooking as soon as he emerged from the bathroom. He had paused only long enough to ask Lucy if she had to hurry on her way, or if she would be staying the night.
“I'm in no hurry to leave, if you don't mind me staying for a while longer,” she replied, watching his face for a clue to his feelings.
He merely nodded. “Then, I'll start dinner.”
Lucy knew he liked to cook, but it also gave him something to do to avoid having a meaningful, postlovemaking conversation with her. She wouldn't rush him, she promised herself. She could give Banner as much time and space as he needed, since he didn't seem to be in any hurry to send her away.
“What can I do to help with dinner?” she asked.
“I've got it under control,” he replied. “I had already planned to make a pot of gumbo tonight, so the ingredients are already chopped and ready. Uh, you do like gumbo, don't you?”
“I love gumbo or any kind of Cajun food, for that matter. I try to get down to New Orleans at least once a year, mostly for the food.”
“I've been there a couple of times. Lots of fancy restaurants, but the best food I found was in the little dives the locals frequent.”
“I feel the same way. I'd rather have a bowl of red beans and rice from a little mom and pop diner than the fanciest blackened offerings from those five-star restaurants.”
He sent her a look over his shoulder that expressed both approval and mild surprise. “So would I.”
That was certainly no revelation to Lucy. “What were you planning to have for dessert?”
He shrugged. “I haven't really given that any thought.”
“Do you mind if I make something? I'll stay out of your way.”
He motioned toward the pantry. “Knock yourself out.”
Pleased to have come up with an excuse to work side by side with him, she moved to the pantry to take stock of his refurbished supplies.
Lucy felt no real need to fill the companionable silence between them as they cooked. That was a rather new experience for her. Usually when she was with someone, she felt the need to keep a conversation going, to fill the silence if only with trivialities. But she found it enough just to be with Banner, working side by side with only the occasional smiling glance between them. He seemed content, too, and she thought he enjoyed having her there- though, of course, with Banner it was sometimes hard to tell.
She bent to place the chocolate cake she had stirred together into the oven. Banner was standing at the stove stirring the spicy-scented gumbo, and she brushed against him as she straightened. The contact made a shiver of awareness run through her. The look he exchanged with her then made her aware that he felt much the same way.
She smiled at him. “I like being here with you.”
“Why?”
His curious response made her giggle. “I just do. Why does that seem so surprising to you?”
He shrugged, then partially changed the subject. “You pretty much say whatever pops into your head, don't you?”
“If you mean I try to be honest about what I'm feeling, then yes, I do. Trying to guess what other people are thinking or feeling is what leads to so many misunderstandings and uncertainties, don't you think?”
“Maybe.”
“C'mon, Banner, you must feel the same way. You don't say things you don't mean, do you?”
“No,” he admitted, “but I don't necessarily say everything I'm thinking, either.”
“I don't say
The wooden spoon he had been holding hit the floor. Giving her a startled look of reproof that made her laugh again, he bent to retrieve it. “For crying out loud, Lucy.”
She couldn't resist teasing him a bit more. He was so darned cute when he was embarrassed-though she had a feeling
“I can't say they have,” he muttered, rinsing the spoon at the sink.
