A Distant Summer by Karen Toller Whittenburg Page A

rested her head in her hands. Ruth had probably eavesdropped on the entire conversation and would have plenty to say later on the subject of good sense.
    With a sigh, Kristina reached for her notebook and began to leaf through the pages.
     

Chapter Six
     
    Tucker heard the sound of her car on the graveled drive. It seemed as if he’d been listening for hours, but it couldn’t have been much more than thirty minutes since he’d returned from Ruth’s house. It had been barely nine o’clock then, and the sky had been a dusky rose twilight.
    It was dark now. The night had come while he wandered aimlessly through the rooms of Kristina’s home. His self-directed tour hadn’t taken long—a stop in the doorway of each room, a glance to note color and furnishings, and a closer look at the personal touches that told him a little something about Kris.
    But there was nothing to explain her less than encouraging welcome that afternoon or the way she’d left him on his own for the entire evening. If it hadn’t been for Ruth, he might have been on his way back to Denver by now.
    Tucker folded his hand around the chain that anchored the porch swing and waited for the hum of the car engine to stop. Kristina would be with him in a few minutes, and the thought made him oddly nervous. She didn’t want him to stay. She was afraid that if he did, she’d be hurt. That much he understood, but her reasons for being afraid? He was at a loss to explain those. He’d given her no cause to believe he would love her and then leave her the moment his life settled into perspective.
    All right, he would admit her observations about his career were astute. His disillusionment with the medical profession would undoubtedly fade with time, but he knew he had reached a crossroads. Maybe the lawsuit had only precipitated the restless feeling that there was something missing in his life. Regardless of what had brought him here, he was at a turning point. And Kristina had a part in his eventual decision, whatever that might be.
    The slam of the car door carried clearly in the July night, and he tensed, setting the swing in motion and then halting it with a push of his feet. What would he say? Why had he decided to stay when she’d made it clear he was only a guest? A temporary guest. Fewer than two months ago he’d been more than that, much more. And today in her office he’d have sworn the look in her gray eyes, the subtle trembling of her hand in his, the controlled yearning in her kiss were those of a woman greeting her lover.
    He heard her footsteps and the sound of the back door opening, then closing again. He listened to the rustle of noise, vague but audible, as she moved through the house, pausing at intervals—to look for him perhaps? The night seemed suddenly, inexplicably filled with maybes and possibilities. He might be risking a rejection of devastating proportions, but he couldn’t leave without trying to discover why Kristina was afraid of him or of making a commitment ... or possibly both.
    She opened the front door and hesitated behind the screen. The light from the living room cast her silhouette in a golden shadow, and Tucker felt his throat tighten with her nearness. Never in his life had he wanted so badly simply to be with another person.
    “Hi,” she said softly. “It’s still very warm outside, isn’t it? Would you like something cool to drink?”
    “No, thank you. I had something very cool at Ruth’s just a short while ago.” Tucker slowly released his grip on the chain and tried to lessen the tension in his voice. “She told me I was drinking home brew, but I have a feeling it came straight from Kentucky.”
    Kris pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the shadowed porch. “You went to Ruth’s house?”
    Was he imagining a nervous edge in her tone? Did she think he and Ruth had spent their time discussing her? Tucker frowned at the thought of how little information he’d actually gleaned during the