If she kept looking at him like that he was going to fall apart. Or rip that excuse for nightgear off her back. 'Look, I don't know why this is happening, but it has to stop. I'm not hypocrite enough to say I don't want you, but I'm not crazy enough to start something that's going to make us both miserable.'
'Why should making love make either of us miserable?'
'Because it could never go beyond that.' Because she swayed toward him, he put his hands on her shoulders. Damn it, she was trembling. Or he was. 'I don't have room for you, for anyone, in my life, Jack. I don't want to make room. I don't think you understand that.'
'No, I don't.' She leaned forward to brush her lips over his chin. 'If I believed it, I'd think it was very sad.'
'Believe it.' But he was no longer certain he did. 'My work comes first. It takes all my time, my energy and my concentration. That's the way I want it. A blistering affair with you has its appeal, but… for some reason I care about you, and I don't think that's all you want or need.'
'It doesn't have to be all.'
'But it does, and that's something for you to think about.' He had to stay calm now, calm enough to make her listen. 'In six weeks I go to Denver. When I've finished there, it's Sydney. After that I don't know where I'll be or for how long. I travel light, and that doesn't include a lover, or the worry about someone waiting for me back home.'
She shook her head as she took a small step back. 'I wonder what happened to make you so unwilling to share yourself, so determined to keep to some straight-and-narrow path. No curves, no detours, Nathan?' She tilted her head to study him. There was no anger in her eyes, just a sympathy he didn't want. 'It's more than sad, it's sinful, really, to turn away someone who loves you because you don't want to spoil your routine.'
He opened his mouth so that the words nearly tumbled out. Reasons, explanations, an anger he barely remembered or thought he'd forgotten. Years of control snapped into place.
'Maybe it is, but that's the way I live. The way I've chosen to live.' He'd hurt her again, badly this time. The shiver of pain sliced back at him, and he knew he was hurting himself, as well. 'I can tell you that if you were another woman it would be a lot easier to turn away. I don't want to feel what I'm feeling for you. Do you understand?'
'Yes. I wish I didn't.' She looked down at the floor. When her eyes lifted again, the hurt was still there, but it had been joined by a flash of something stronger. 'What you don't understand is that I don't give up. Blame it on the Irish. A stubborn breed. I want you, Nathan, and no matter how far you run or how fast, I'll catch up. When I do, all your neat little plans are going to tumble like a stack of dominoes.' Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him hard. 'And you'll thank me for it, because no one's ever going to love you the way I do.'
She kissed him again, more gently this time, then turned away. 'I made some fresh lemonade, if you still want a drink. Night.'
He watched her go with the sinking feeling that he could already hear the clatter of dominoes.
Chapter Seven
One should have hated him. Sarah wanted to, wished the strong, destructive emotions would come, filling all the cracks in her feelings, blocking out everything else. With hate, a coolheaded, sharply honed hate, she would have felt in control again. She needed badly to feel in control again. But she didn't hate him. Couldn't.
Even knowing Jake had spent the night with another woman, kissing another woman's lips, touching another woman's skin, she couldn't hate him. But she could grieve for the loss, for the death of a beauty that had never had the chance to bloom fully.
She had come to understand what they might have had together. She had nearly come to accept that they belonged together, whatever their differences, whatever the risks. He would always live by his gun and by his own set of rules, but with her, briefly, perhaps reluctantly, he had shown such kindness, such tenderness.
There was a place for her in his heart. Sarah knew it. Beneath the rough-hewn exterior was a man who believed in justice, who was capable of small, endearing kindnesses. He'd allowed her to see that part of him, a part she knew he'd shared with few others.
Then why, the moment she had begun to soften toward him, to accept him for what and who he was, had he turned to another woman, a woman of easy virtue?
It hadn't been one of her better days. Nathan had been up and gone before she'd started breakfast. He'd left her a note-she couldn't even say a scribbled note, because his handwriting was as disciplined as the rest of him- telling her he'd be out most of the day.
She'd munched on a candy bar and the last of the ginger ale as she'd mulled over the current situation. As far as she could see, it stank.
She was in love with a man who was determined to hold her, and his own feelings, at arm's length. A man who insisted on rationalizing those feelings away-not because he was committed to another woman, not because he was suffering from a fatal disease, not because he was hiding a criminal past, but because they were inconvenient.
He was too honorable to take advantage of the situation, and too stubborn to admit that he and she belonged together.
No room in his life for her? Jackie thought as she pushed away from the typewriter and began to pace. Did he really believe she would take a ridiculous statement like that and back off? Of course she wouldn't, but what bothered her more was that he would make a statement like that in the first place.
What made him so determined not to accept love when it was given, so determined not to acknowledge his own emotions? Her own family could sometimes be annoyingly proper, but there had always been a wealth of love generously given. She'd grown up unafraid of feelings. If you didn't feel, you weren't alive, so what was the purpose? She knew Nathan felt, and felt deeply, but whenever his emotions took control he stepped back and put up those walls.
He did love her, Jackie thought as she flopped down on the bed. She couldn't be mistaken about that. But he was going to fight her every inch of the way. So she'd handle it. It wasn't that she objected to a good fight, it was just that this one hurt. Every time he drew back, every time he denied what they had together, it hurt a little more.
She'd been honest with him, and that hadn't worked. She'd been deliberately provocative, and that hadn't done so well, either. She'd been annoying, and she'd been cooperative. She wasn't sure what step to take next.
Rolling onto her stomach, she debated the idea of taking a nap. It was midafternoon, she'd worked nonstop since breakfast, and she couldn't drum up any enthusiasm for the pool. Perhaps if she went to sleep with Nathan on her mind she would wake up with a solution. Deciding to trust the Fates-after all, they'd gotten her this far-she closed her eyes. She'd nearly dozed off when the doorbell rang.
Someone selling encyclopedias, she thought groggily, with the idea of ignoring them. Or it was three men in white suits passing out pamphlets for a tent revival-which actually might be fairly interesting. With a yawn, she snuggled into the pillow. She'd nearly shut off her mind when a last thought intruded. It was a telegram from home, and someone had been in a horrible accident.
Springing up, she sprinted downstairs.
'Yes, I'm coming!' As she pushed the hair out of her eyes, she yanked the door open.
It wasn't a telegram or a door-to-door salesman. It was Justine Chesterfield. Jackie decided it really wasn't one of her better days. She leaned on the door and offered a chilly smile.
'Hello.'
'Hello. I wonder if Nathan might be around.'
'Sorry, he's out.' Her fingers on the knob itched to close the door quietly and completely. That would be rude. Jackie could almost hear her mother upbraiding her. She took a long breath before moderating her tone. 'He didn't say where he was going or when he'd be back, but you're welcome to wait if you'd like.'
