No Place Like Home Read online

“Lovely,” he said.

  She waited for him to go on—surely he would have a comment about the neighborhood or the schools or the tax rates? But he said nothing, and when she looked up at him she realized that he wasn’t looking at the book at all.

  “You haven’t even seen it,” she accused.

  “No,” he said. He sounded almost sad. “All I can see when I’m in the same room is you, Kaye.”

  Her heart was tap-dancing to an awkward, amateur rhythm, and her throat was so tight, she thought it would be a miracle if she ever breathed again. His hand brushed her hair with infinite gentleness, almost with reverence, and something deep inside Kaye seemed to shatter like an iridescent soap bubble. It was a bursting so quiet, so infinitesimal, that it seemingly had no meaning at all— except that afterwards, nothing could ever be quite the same again.

  She didn’t remember moving at all, but she must have, for she was in his arms, pressing herself against him with a mindless abandon, as if she was trying to drown her own identity in his. “Please,” she whispered, not even knowing what she was saying. “Please…”

  She seemed to be melting, she thought, and felt a sort of vague wonder, but no panic. Brendan guided her towards the blanket in the center of the floor, and she sank down on to it with relief, sighing with contentment deep in her throat when she was safe in this haven, with him beside her. Suddenly, it seemed, there was no hurry. They were alone, as if they were the only two souls in existence, with the entire universe to be their playground and all of time stretching out before them as the world spun lazily to a standstill...

  Brendan seemed to know it, too. He nibbled at her throat, dropping kisses gently on the tender skin. His hand crept up under her loosely knit sweater, over the sensitive skin that stretched taut across her ribs, to the delicate swell of her breast. His touch sent shards of pleasure shivering through her.

  Her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as she unbuttoned his shirt, eager to be rid of the barrier it represented. Her hands wandered over his warm skin, caressing his strong shoulders and pulling him down to her. She was no longer content to wait.

  As her hands locked together, the huge emerald on her ring finger cut viciously into her right palm, and she cried out. The pain of the scratch seemed to jolt some sense back into her head, and she stared up at him, horrified.

  My God, she thought, have I gone completely insane? A woman who is engaged to one man does not make love on her living-room floor with another one!

  “Stop,” she said. Her breath was coming in painful gasps. “We can’t do this.”

  “It seems to me that we already are.” He sounded completely out of breath himself. “I’m not taking the blame for this one. You got yourself into this position, Kaye.”

  “I’m not asking you to take the blame,” she whispered. She couldn’t look at him. He hadn’t moved. His hand was still cupping her breast, and the warmth of his fingers was soaking into her skin.

  “You could be called a tease, you know, or worse— for acting like this.”

  It was almost accusing, and she shivered a little. She was in real danger, she knew; a wise woman did not lead a man into this sort of excitement and then tell him to stop. If Brendan chose not to listen to her, there would be nothing she could do to resist him. Rape, she told herself, was not a pleasant word, but she knew she had never been closer to it in her life. “I wouldn’t blame you,” she whispered, painfully honest, “if—”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t?” he said. “Thank you for giving me permission to ravish you. You tempt me, Kaye, you really do. But I’m not quite that far gone, and I don’t think I’d enjoy having Graham come looking for me with a horsewhip, after you’ve told him about the nasty things I forced you to do.”

  “I have no intention of telling him about any of this.”

  “I daresay. But then, you’ve been known to change your mind before.” He rolled away from her, his fingers lingering against her breast for a long moment. “You’re a damned frustrating woman, Kaye Reardon.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “I need time to think.”

  “Well, when you’ve thought, let me know what you decide, will you? By telephone, please—we’ll both be a lot safer that way.” He rose in one graceful motion and reached for his necktie.

  Kaye scrambled to her feet. She felt as if she’d been thoroughly mauled, and she was glad there wasn’t a mirror handy. “I don’t blame you for being angry,” she said. It was such a horribly inadequate thing to say that she was heartily ashamed of herself. Yet what else could she tell him? She could hardly say, I’m sorry I didn’t let you make love to me.

  But I am, she thought, and the harsh realization caught at her throat.

  He saw the shock of it in her eyes, and he sighed. “I’m sorry I sounded so crude,” he said. “I—well, you did give me a jolt, you know. Far more than Omar could have, if he’d chosen to throw a fit. Which he didn’t, in case you didn’t notice. Goodnight, Kaye.”

  She followed him to the door. She wanted to remove a loose thread that lay on the lapel of his jacket, but she stopped herself in time. “Your books,” she said, finally.

  He looked at them, spread haphazardly across the couch and the coffee table. “I think I’d better get out of here, before I change my mind and make myself at home,” he said. “I’ll pick the books up at the travel agency tomorrow.”

  “I won’t be there. I’m going out of town.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Kaye—” He put out a gentle hand, and drew his fingers down through her hair. It was a tentative gesture, as if he half-expected to be slapped. Then he was gone, leaving her standing in the cold breeze.

  She stood there for a long time, welcoming the numbing cold because at least it made her feel alive. Finally, however, she closed the door when Omar protested at the draft, and sat down to think. It was past time to be asleep, if she was going to be at the airport at five in the morning. She should unfold the couch and crawl between the sheets right now. But she knew, if she tried to go to bed, that she would not rest.

  What was happening to her? She was engaged to a man she was fond of, a man she respected. Though she wasn’t altogether certain that she loved Graham, she was convinced that blind, head-over-heels love was not always the most important ingredient in a marriage.

  And yet, if she was content with her engagement, how could she possibly account for what had happened tonight?

  “There is no accounting for it,” she told herself. “It was temporary insanity.”

  But it wasn’t the first time it had happened, honesty forced her to admit. Could she promise—as she must, when she married Graham—that it would be the last?

  Certainly, she would never again let herself be caught up in that particular form of madness with Brendan McKenna. She would return his books to him as soon as she was back from the Bahamas, and that would be the last time she would ever see him. Graham could do the looking for houses from now on, she told herself. Kaye was disillusioned with the job.

  And, since she would never see Brendan again, it followed logically that she would never have to worry about kissing him in the empty, tattered hallway of some old house, or making love with him on a blanket in her own living-room.

  But was it really possible, in a town the size of Henderson, to know that she would never run into him again? And even if that could be guaranteed, would her mind be at peace? Or would she walk every day of her life, looking for him in the crowds, searching for him on the city’s streets, and swallowing hard each time a black-haired man turned out not to be the one she sought?

  She bit her lip as the truth hit her in the face. He had crept into her heart, as Emily had said. Emily had thought Brendan was a passing fancy that, once indulged, would disappear. Kaye wasn’t sure it would be so easy to exorcize him from her life.

  But she knew one thing. She could not marry Graham. Not now—not while she was carrying this longing for Brendan in her heart.

  She put
her head down beside Omar on his favorite pillow, and tumbled into sleep.

  *****

  She almost didn’t make it to the airport; if Omar hadn’t discovered that his water dish was empty, and let her know about it with a determined and off-key yowl, she would have slept through departure time. In fact, she considered doing that anyway; her bed, after a night spent curled up awkwardly in her clothes, seemed very appealing.

  But the pale darkness that was early morning brought with it doubt. Had she really followed it through logically, step by step, last night? Or had she let the emotions of the moment persuade her that she must break her engagement?

  “I need some time to think,” she told Omar. And she might as well do that thinking in Nassau, where no telephones, jobs, or visitors could interfere. It would be foolish to do anything else.

  She showered and dressed faster than she had ever done before, throwing things into a beach bag almost at random. Then she filled the cat’s dishes, kissed him goodbye, and rushed out to her car.

  She was fifteen minutes late, but the group of tourists, most carrying tote-bags, others already wearing umbrella hats as if attempting to exert their will over the Midwest’s weather, were still milling about the terminal. Kaye rushed up to the gray-haired woman in the purple jacket who seemed to be in charge.

  “I’m traveling on Miranda Lilly’s ticket,” she explained breathlessly, and handed it over.

  The woman looked at her suspiciously over half-glasses and admitted that she had discussed the matter with Mrs. Lilly. “You’re late,” she said.

  “Yes, and I’m sorry I overslept. I certainly won’t be late the rest of the day, I promise.”

  “If you are, you’ll be left behind.”

  Left behind, Kaye thought. In the Bahamas. She couldn’t think of a nicer fate. She snapped back to attention as the woman spoke again.

  “I said, do you have your passport? You’ll need it to get back into the country.”

  Kaye waved her little blue passport folder under the woman’s nose. Marilyn had insisted that she get it when she took the job at Gulliver’s, but this was the first time she had ever used it.

  “Humph,” the woman said. Her tone seemed to indicate doubt that anyone so unreliable as Kaye could qualify for a legitimate passport. But she couldn’t question the official seals, so she put Kaye’s name on her list, next to the crossed-off entry for Edward and Miranda Lilly.

  That’s odd, Kaye thought.

  But the woman pushed a purple folder into her hands and cleared her throat to get the attention of the group. As she started to give boarding instructions, Kaye began to flip through the information in her folder. Timetable, guide book—it was very thoughtful of them to include that, she thought.

  “Hi,” said a husky voice beside her. “I believe we’re seat mates.”

  My God, she thought, I’m even hearing his voice, now.

  Brendan bent and picked up her beach bag. “I’ll carry your things on board for you, if you like.”

  He was really there, not just a figment of her imagination. Suddenly, Kaye was fiercely, illogically angry, as she saw her vision of a peaceful day on the beach waver and fade. “Do I have a choice?” she said icily. “Why in the hell are you here?”

  “Because I don’t believe in playing fair, when there’s something important at stake.”

  “Well, you can just go hang.” She grabbed her bag out of his hand. “I’ve got one solitary day of vacation time, and you are not going to ruin it for me!”

  He looked for an instant as if he’d been slapped. “I didn’t intend to ruin anything,” he said somberly. “I thought perhaps we could have a little fun together. We did have fun, you know—at first.”

  She felt just a bit ashamed of herself. We had fun, she thought hollowly, until I began to wonder if I wanted more than just fun...

  “How did you manage this, anyway?” she asked, a little more calmly. “You can’t expect me to believe you were surprised to see me turn up. But this tour has been sold out for weeks, and I only knew I was coming yesterday.”

  “Poor Mr. Lilly,” he said mildly, as he followed her up the ramp to the plane. “Having to stay home and nurse his wife.”

  “Emily,” she muttered. “Damn you, Emily, you set me up! I wouldn’t put it past her to have pushed that poor woman down the stairs.”

  “Apparently,” Brendan said, “she set us both up. She seemed to think you’d be glad to see me. Obviously she was wrong.” He took her bag and put it in the overhead compartment. “Window seat? Or do you prefer the aisle?”

  “I prefer solitude,” Kaye said nastily.

  “Since it’s a little late to get off the plane, I suppose you’re stuck with me on the trip, but I promise to be very quiet.” He fastened his seatbelt with an emphatic snap. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

  Impossible, Kaye thought. How could she not know he was beside her, when every cell tingled at the memory of the way he had kissed her last night? She could still feel the stark demands of her own body, and her longing to let the world be swept away in a rising tide of desire...

  “I’m a champion chump, you know,” he said. “Last night when you said you wanted to think, I actually believed you meant it. But it was really only an excuse to get yourself out of a tight corner, wasn’t it, Kaye?”

  “I did mean it,” she protested faintly. She had never before heard quite that note of harsh self-deprecation in his voice, and it frightened her.

  “One day of fun,” he mused. “Nothing serious, no discussions, no questions. Just a few hours of adventuring together—that was all I wanted from today. But I promised to be quiet, didn’t I? Sorry.”

  Why am I so angry? she asked herself. Simply because he had the nerve to intrude on her holiday? But he had every right to be there. It wasn’t her own private plane, and he could have bought a ticket, just as all these other people had.

  Was she angry at Emily, for the manipulation she had pulled? Yes, she admitted. But that was no reason to be angry with Brendan. Emily hadn’t told him the whole story, either.

  You’re scared, Kaye, she told herself. You’re afraid to commit yourself to anything, for fear you’ll regret it. Well, he isn’t asking for a commitment. He’s made it plain that he’s only asking for a day to enjoy, together. And you will enjoy it; you do have fun when you’re with him.

  A whole day to play, with no one to intrude—

  “Have a fling,” Emily had said. “Get him out of your system.” Perhaps that was all the day would mean.

  But what if this day did not end the madness? What if she wanted more?

  No matter what, you will always have today, she told herself firmly. What was it he had said? Something about how memories could never be taken away...

  She looked down at her hands clenched in her lap, and realized that she was still wearing Graham’s emerald. Brendan knew it, too, she reflected; no one could overlook that ring.

  At least have the courage of your convictions, she told herself. You decided last night that no matter what else happened, you couldn’t marry Graham. And that hasn’t changed.

  The jet was taxiing for take-off. It was too late to back out; they were going to Nassau.

  You can have a day to remember, she told herself, or a day to regret. It’s entirely your choice, Kaye. Which is it to be?

  She tugged the ring off. “Brendan,” she whispered, “will you take care of this for me today?”

  He looked down at the dark green stone, and then into her eyes. “It’s not quite the right thing to wear on the beach.”

  “There have been a couple of burglaries in my neighborhood lately,” she said. “I could scarcely leave it in the apartment.” Her eyes must have said much more.

  He took the ring, then picked up her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. The tension had melted out of his face.

  “My goodness,” said a professionally cheerful voice beside them. “What a beautiful ring.”

  Kaye looked up
in surprise at the flight hostess. The young woman smiled and said, “And what a setting for a proposal. Lucky girl!” She had moved on before Kaye could correct her.

  Brendan saw the confusion in her face. “It isn’t important,” he said softly. He wrapped her ring gently in a handkerchief and put it in his pocket. “Just for today,” he said, “let’s forget about the world.”

  You are my world, she wanted to say. But she didn’t dare.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE jet broke through the clouds just then and sunshine poured in, greeted by applause from the passengers. Kaye turned away from Brendan to stare out the window, and when at last she looked up at him again, her last doubts had vanished.

  The only thing that mattered was today, she thought; the future would take care of itself. Let’s forget about the world, he had said. Very well, she thought. “No discussions, no quarrels, no questions,” she agreed. “Just a stolen day of summer.”