A Gift from the Past by Carla Cassidy

since he’d returned to Mayfield.
    The room had looked different when they had been together years ago. At that time the color scheme had been blue, Joshua’s favorite color. Items from his pockets had been scattered across the top of the dresser, and more often than not a pair of his pants were slung across the back of the chair in the corner.
    The week after he’d left, she’d packed up everything that had belonged to him. She’d bought new curtains and a bedspread, then transformed the room from theirs to hers. It was the only way she was able to sleep in the room alone.
    She watched as he returned from the bathroom wielding the blow-dryer and a hairbrush. He plugged the dryer into a nearby socket, then unwound the towel from her head.
    He got behind her on the bed and began to brush out the tangles in her hair. He was gentle, apparently remembering that she was tender-headed, and as he worked he was so close behind her she could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck.
    â€œAm I hurting you?” he asked softly, the hairbrush paused in the air.
    Yes. You’re hurting me with your nearness. You’re making me ache inside. These thoughts whirled around inside her. “No, you aren’t hurting me,” she said aloud.
    Once again she closed her eyes as he turned onthe blow-dryer and pointed the warm stream of air at her head. With the brush working through the strands of wet hair and the blow-dryer warming her shoulders, she once again felt a delicious languor sweep over her.
    However, the languor didn’t last long. As he dried her hair, he abandoned the brush and instead used his hands to rake through her hair. Time and time again, she felt the tips of his fingers on her neck, around her ears, touching her cheek. And each touch filled her with tension and heat.
    He continued to stroke her hair long after she knew it was dry. She knew she should call a halt, tell him to shut off the blow-dryer and get them both off the bed and out of the bedroom, but she didn’t.
    When he finally shut off the blow-dryer, the silence in the room was startling. Get up, her brain commanded. But before she could follow through on her brain’s command, he moved her hair aside and his lips pressed hotly against her neck.
    â€œJoshua.” She meant it as a protest, but instead, to her horror, it sounded like a breathless plea.
    His hands caressed her shoulders as his mouth continued to roam along her neckline. “What?” he murmured, not stopping his sweet, heated kisses.
    â€œI think the beauty session is over.” Her voice trembled and her pulse raced.
    â€œYou’re right. It is.” Abruptly he got off thebed and moved to stand before her. He held out a hand to help her up, his eyes lit with an internal flame that stirred the embers that smoldered inside her.
    She took his hand, her heart thudding wildly and he pulled her up off the bed and against his body in an embrace. She raised her face, thought to protest, but instantly his lips claimed hers in a deep, soul-wrenching kiss.
    Time not only stood still, but seemed to regress, and she felt as though she were fifteen years old again, experiencing her very first kiss with Joshua.
    As it had that first time, his kiss overwhelmed her, swept all thoughts out of her mind and filled her with a hunger she couldn’t fight.
    Despite their painful past, in spite of the lingering bitterness she felt about him walking out on her so many years ago, it took only minutes of his lips against hers, his arms around her, for her to get lost in him.
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    Joshua hadn’t intended to make love to Claire when he’d made plans to wash her hair. His sole intention had been to do something nice for her, to provide her some enjoyment.
    But with her warm, lithe body in his arms and her mouth opened eagerly beneath his, he had every intention of making love to her. Stroking the silk of her hair had stirred him to distraction, evoking