“No,” she whispered.
“But you do feel guilty now. Why, sunshine? Why guilty?”
“Maybe it was too fast. And your hand …”
“My hand wasn’t hurting just then. Loving you blotted everything out. I wasn’t complaining, or moaning. Come on, Marni. Why guilty?”
Her gaze darted blindly about the room. She frowned, swallowed hard, then began to breathe raggedly. “I guess … I guess that … maybe I felt that … well, we’d made love so much during that summer, and it was so good and right, and then … and then …” Her eyes were wide when she raised them to his. Fresh tears pooled on her lower lids but refused to overflow. “And then the accident happened and Ethan was killed and you were in the hospital and my parents … forbade me to … see you …”
Web closed his eyes. An intense inner pain brought a soft moan to his lips, and he slipped both arms around her. “Lord, what they’ve done … what they’ve done …”
He held her for a long time without saying a word, because only then did he realize the enormity of the hurdle he faced.
Chapter 5
Web had much to consider. He understood now that there was a link in Marni’s mind between their lovemaking of fourteen years ago and Ethan’s death. He understood that, though she may not have been aware of it at the time, some small part of her had felt guilty about their affair, and Ethan’s death must have seemed to her a form of punishment. And he understood that her parents had done nothing to convince her it wasn’t so.
Much to consider … so much to consider. He held Marni tightly, wanting desperately to protect her, to take away the pain. She was such a strong woman, yet still fragile. He tried to decide what to do, what to say. In the end he wasn’t any more ready to discuss this newly revealed legacy of that summer in Maine than she was.
“Marni?” he murmured against her hair. He ran his hand soothingly over her naked back, then kissed her forehead. “Sweetheart?”
Marni, too, had been stunned by what she’d said. But rather than think of it, she’d closed her eyes and let the solid warmth of Web’s body calm her. She took a last, faintly erratic breath. “Hmmm?”
“Are you any good at brewing coffee?”
She knew what he was doing and was grateful. A faint smile formed against his chest, and she opened her eyes. “Not bad.”
“Think you could do it while I use the bathroom? I’m feeling a little muzzy right about now.”
His voice did sound muzzy, so she took pity on him. Reaching for her discarded blouse, she dragged it over her breasts as she sat up. “I think I could handle that.”
He was looking at the blouse, then at the hands that clutched it to her. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked very softly, gently. When he met her gaze, his blue eyes were infinitely tender. “You never used to cover up with me.”
Embarrassed, she looked away. “That was fourteen years ago,” she whispered.
“And you don’t think that what we have now is as close?”
“It isn’t that …”
He lightly curled his fingers over her slender shoulders. “What is it, sunshine? Please, tell me.”
Her eyes remained downcast. “I … I’m older … I look different now.”
“But I saw you a few minutes ago. I touched you and tasted you, and you were beautiful.”
“That was in the heat of passion.”
“And you’re afraid I’ll look at you now and see a thirty-one-year-old body and not be turned on?”
She shrugged. “Time does things.”
“To me, too. Don’t you think I’m aware that my body is older? I’m forty, not twenty-six. Do you think I’m not that little bit nervous that you’ll see all the changes?”
Her gaze shot to him. “But I saw you last night, and not in passion, and you’re body’s better than ever!”
“So is yours, Marni,” he whispered. Very slowly he eased the knit fabric from her hands and drew it away. His eyes took on a special light as they gently caressed her bare curves. “Your skin is beautiful. Your breasts are perfect.”
“They’re not as high as they used to be.”
