“I love you,” she cried over and over again. His presence had become part and parcel of her being. Without fear, she raised her hips to his rhythm, and rather than discomfort she felt an excitement that grew and grew until she was sure she’d simply explode.
“Ahhh, sunshine … so good … that’s it … oh, God!”
His body was slick above hers, their flesh slapping together in time with the waves on the shore. Then that sound too fell aside, and all awareness was suspended as first Marni, then Web, strained and cried out, one body, then the next, breaking into fierce orgasmic shudders.
It was a long time before either of them spoke, a long time before the spasms slowed and their gasps quieted to a more controlled breathing. Web slid to her side and drew her tightly into his arms. “You are something, Marni Lange,” he whispered against her damp forehead.
“Web … Web … unbelievable!”
He gave a deep, satisfied, purely male laugh. “I think I’d have to agree with you.”
She nestled her head more snugly against his breast. “Then I … I did okay?”
“You did more than okay. You didsuper.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” She raised her head so that she could see those blue, blue eyes she adored. At night, in the moonlight, they were a beacon. “Thank you, Web,” she said more softly. “I wanted you to be the first. It was very special … very, very special.” She wanted to say again that she loved him, but he hadn’t returned the words, and she didn’t want to put him on the spot. She was grateful for what she felt, for what he’d made her feel, for what he’d given her. For the time being it was more than enough.
They rested in each other’s arms for a while, listening to the sounds of the sea until those became too tempting to resist. So they raced into the water, laughing, playing, finally making love again there in the waves, wrapped up enough in each other not to care whether the rest of the world saw or heard or knew.
In the two weeks that followed, they were slightly more cautious. Unable to stay away from each other, they timed their rendezvous with care, meeting at odd hours and in odd places where they could forget the rest of the world existed and could live those brief times solely for each other and themselves. Marni was wildly happy and passionately in love; that justified her actions. She found Web to be intelligent and worldly, exquisitely sensitive and tender when she was in his arms. Web only knew that there was something special about her, something bright and luminous. She was a free spirit, forthright and fresh. She was a ray of sunshine in his life.
Marni’s parents suspected that something was going on, but Marni always had a ready excuse to give them when they asked where she was going or where she’d been, and she was careful never to mention Web’s name. Ethan knew what was happening and, though he worried, he adored Marni and was fond enough of Web to trust that he was in control of things. Tanya was jealous, plainly and simply. She’d been stringing along another of Ethan’s friends for most of the summer, but when—inevitably, through one of Marni’s friends—she got wind of Marni’s involvement with Web, she suddenly realized what she’d overlooked and sought to remedy the situation. Web wasn’t interested, which only irked her all the more, and at the time Marni made no attempt to reason with her sister.
It was shortsighted on her part, but then none of them ever dreamed that the summer would end prematurely and tragically.
With a week left before Labor Day, Web and Ethan set out in search of an evening’s adventure in the university town of Orono. Marni had wanted to come along, but Ethan had been adamant. He claimed that their parents had been questioning him about her relationship with Web, and that the best way to mollify them would be for him to take off with Web while she spent the evening home for a change. She’d still protested, whereupon Ethan had conned Web into taking the motorcycle. It only sat two; there was no room for her.
For months and months after that, Marni would go over the what ifs again and again. What if she hadn’t pestered and the two had taken Ethan’s car as they’d originally planned? What if she’d made noise enough to make them cancel the trip? What if her parents hadn’t been suspicious of her relationship with Web? What if there hadn’t been anything to be suspicious of? But all the what ifs in the world—and there were even more she grappled with—couldn’t change the facts.
It had begun to rain shortly after eleven. The road had been dark. Two cars had collided at a blind intersection. The motorcycle had skidded wildly in their wake. Ethan had been thrown, had hit a tree and had been killed instantly.
Chapter 3
“Okay,” Web sighed, straightening. “That’s it for today.”
Anne rushed to him, her eyes on Marni’s hunched form. “But you haven’t got what you want,” she argued in quiet concern.
“I know that and you know that, but Marni’s in no shape to give us anything else right now.” He handed his camera to an assistant, then raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I am either,” he said. In truth he was disgusted with himself. Sunshine. How could he have slipped that way? He hadn’t planned to do it; the endearment had just come out. But then, it appeared he’d handled Marni wrong from the start.
Dismayed murmurs filtered through the room, but Web ignored them to approach the stool where Marni sat. He put an arm around her shoulder and bent his head close, using his body as a shield between her and any onlookers. “I’m sorry, Marni. That was my fault. It wasn’t intentional, believe me.”
She was crying silently, whitened fingers pressed to her downcast face.
“Why don’t you go on in and change. We’ll make a stab at this another day.”
She shook her head, but said nothing. Web crooked his finger at Anne, then, when she neared, tossed his head in the direction of the dressing room and left the two women alone.
“Come on, Marni,” Anne said softly. It was her arm around Marni’s shoulders now, and she was gently urging her to her feet.
“I’ve spoiled everything,” Marni whispered, “and made a fool of myself in the process.”
“You certainly have not,” Anne insisted as they started slowly toward the dressing room. “We all knew you weren’t wild about doing this. So you’ve shown us that you’re human, and that there are some kinds of pressure you just can’t take.”
“We’ll have to get someone else for the cover.”
“Let’s talk about that when you’ve calmed down.”
Anne stayed with her while she changed into her own clothes. She was blotting at the moistness below her eyes when a knock came at the door. Anne answered it, then stepped outside, and Web came in, closing the door behind him.
