Still stiff, and slightly trembling, she belted again into the night. “American football is the most amazing sport in the world.” A few of the motors slowed, honking their horns.
“You do not follow directions well at all, do you?” Stephen said, which, truly, he found was one of her most endearing qualities.
She leaned into him. “Go Dawgs. Sic ’em. Woof, woof,woof.”
“Did you justwoofat me?”
“Woof!”
“You’re a welsher. That’s what you are . . . a first-class welsher.”
She exhaled, pushing against him. “Me? A welsher? Look who’s talking. I thinkyoumade a promise to love, honor, and cherish—”
Impulse. The spark of his existence drove him to grip her to him, tightening his hand around her waist.
In the ghostly light of traffic, his lips captured hers, the familiar curves of her body beneath his hands. The heat of her skin soaked into every pore.
Her reaction was stiff and cold upon first touch, but after a long breath, she let the tension go and swooned against him, wrapping her hand about his neck, her lips softening, warming.
He was at oncehome. In the very intimate, enveloping world of her love. And he wondered if he’d be able to escape this time.
What are you doing?
He broke away, the tooting of car horns startling him into reality. Stepping back, he corralled his need to kiss her again with a big gulp of air. He felt buzzed, stunned, encountered by a true force.
“W–why did you do that?” Her breathless question came without guile.
“We best get on, Corina.” He released her and started for the limo. That force? Of a loved woman? Was one he could not combat. He’d tasted it and even the nightmares of hell were not strong enough to resist it. “It’s late.”
But resist he must.
What right had he to enjoy life, make love to his wife, rear children, holiday on the shore, while the families of the men who died for him tottered on, trying to rebuild their lives? Sons and daughters being raised without their fathers. All because of him.
No, he was not worthy of the happiness of her kiss. And that was his burden to bear.
NINETEEN
The butterflies from his kiss lingered with Corina all night, fluttering down to her toes as she dreamed. His kiss was the kiss of a man who had feelings for her. Who perhaps still loved her.
Kicking back her covers with a good Tuesday morning stretch, Corina crawled out of bed and opened the curtains. Perching on the window seat, cradling a small velvet and fringe pillow, she watched a muted dawn gently wake up Cathedral City. Adelaide was right; this was one of the greatest cities on earth.
She exhaled a contented sigh, wrapping her arms around her raised knees.His kiss . . .She’d always havethatkiss.
Their honeymoon month had been filled with such kisses and the passions of young lovers—mind, body, and soul.
Stephen was her one and only. Then and now. There would be no one else for her. He’d pledged the same love and devotion to her when they danced to their own symphony atop the Braithwaite. Did he really change, fall out of love with her those silent weeks toward the end of his tour? Did the explosion hurt him that much?
Corina tossed the pillow to the seat, a slow revelation dawning. But of course . . .
He came to Florida with the annulment papers when he could’ve just mailed them with a note. Perhaps adding a phone call for propriety’s sake.
Wait, she had to think about this, process. She paced from the window to her bed and back again, her pale pink pajama bottoms sagging at her hips.
Why,why, did he refuse her? Deny his feelings? Hide the truth?
Carlos. His name seemed to be at the core of things. No matter what Stephen’s intentions when he arrived in Florida, she had set the conditions. Once she threw down the gauntlet of wanting information, it gave Stephen a way out of the annulment.
He wasn’t forthcoming about Carlos because if he gave her what she wanted, she’d sign the papers. She’d promised. So he’d withhold and they’d remain married. Hemuststill love her. That’s why he flew to Florida. To see her and test his feelings. To test hers.
