over it.”
Her eyes grew misty, yet there were no tears. “I know. But there are still all those What ifs. What if he’d been out drinking with the rest of the guys? What if he’d been on the third floor? What if the department had never authorized the trip in the first place?”
“But it did,” he countered gently, able only to guess that her husband had been on a business trip, perhaps at a convention. “He wasn’t on the third floor. And he wasn’t out drinking. Don’t you see, you can’t agonize over what might have been. What’s done can’t be changed. You can only go on living. You can only look ahead.”
Above and beyond his words, it was the glimmer of hope in his eye that captured Carly’s senses. Very slowly, she returned from that charred hotel room to the present, to the comfort of this man, to the long fingers that moved gently on her neck. With the sound of approaching footsteps, another runner passed them with a salute. Occasional cars sped by on Storrow Drive. A flock of geese winged southward. Ryan’s head shaded her from the rising sun, whose vibrant rays shimmered around the richness of his hair.
“I know you’re right,” she whispered, lost in his gaze. “And I do try.” It was hard to look ahead at times, when so much of the past was a consuming flame. Reason dictated she look ahead, echoing not only Ryan’s, Sam’s and her father’s advice but her own common sense. And though her heart didn’t always cooperate, she tried. She did.
Ryan smiled then, feeling pride in the spunk that had raised her chin a fraction of an inch. “It’ll work, Carly. You’ll see. You’re strong and bright.”
His eyes held hers, melting her to the core. Then, struck by a sudden wave of self-consciousness, she tore her gaze from his and focused on the drying grass by the side of the path. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Blurting all this out. I usually have better control.”
“Maybe that’s why it came out. Maybe it needed to come out.”
“But to you?” She raised her eyes, perplexed. “We’re strangers,” she argued in stark reminder to herself.
“Not really,” he said gently. “There are times when I look into your eyes and feel I’ve known you all my life.”
“But you haven’t.”
“Not yet.” He smiled again. “Speaking of which—” he tipped her face up with his thumbs “—you never did tell me what you teach.”
For a final moment they stood there, looking at each other in silent awareness of something very special that had passed between them. For Carly, it was the sharing of her grief, something she hadn’t done in quite that way to any other human being. She had offered Ryan a bit of Robyn. And in that instant, rather than feeling duplicitous, she felt strangely whole.
For Ryan, it was something else. For a few moments at least, he’d penetrated Carly’s shell, glimpsed a part of her that he sensed few people saw. She’d kissed him back…that was it…their lips had never touched…yet she had kissed him back.
His thumb moved from her jaw to the softness of her mouth. Entranced, he slowly outlined its sensuous curve, feeling her lips part beneath his touch. His eye sought hers then, and he knew that she was, at that moment, as open to him as she’d ever been. His heart-beat sped; the pulse at her neck kept time. If it was the present he advocated, he had a point to make.
Six
w HEN HE LOWERED HIS HEAD THIS TIME, THERE was no hand to block his lips from hers. He kissed her in a whisper, barely touching her lips at first, then very slowly, very carefully deepening the touch. Her warmth was intoxicating, every bit as sweet as he’d imagined it to be when he’d lain in bed last night, frustrated and taut. He took his time; there was no rush. In a rare instance in his life, he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation with total satisfaction. There seemed no goal more precious than this simple tasting of lips, this simple act of
Her eyes grew misty, yet there were no tears. “I know. But there are still all those What ifs. What if he’d been out drinking with the rest of the guys? What if he’d been on the third floor? What if the department had never authorized the trip in the first place?”
“But it did,” he countered gently, able only to guess that her husband had been on a business trip, perhaps at a convention. “He wasn’t on the third floor. And he wasn’t out drinking. Don’t you see, you can’t agonize over what might have been. What’s done can’t be changed. You can only go on living. You can only look ahead.”
Above and beyond his words, it was the glimmer of hope in his eye that captured Carly’s senses. Very slowly, she returned from that charred hotel room to the present, to the comfort of this man, to the long fingers that moved gently on her neck. With the sound of approaching footsteps, another runner passed them with a salute. Occasional cars sped by on Storrow Drive. A flock of geese winged southward. Ryan’s head shaded her from the rising sun, whose vibrant rays shimmered around the richness of his hair.
“I know you’re right,” she whispered, lost in his gaze. “And I do try.” It was hard to look ahead at times, when so much of the past was a consuming flame. Reason dictated she look ahead, echoing not only Ryan’s, Sam’s and her father’s advice but her own common sense. And though her heart didn’t always cooperate, she tried. She did.
Ryan smiled then, feeling pride in the spunk that had raised her chin a fraction of an inch. “It’ll work, Carly. You’ll see. You’re strong and bright.”
His eyes held hers, melting her to the core. Then, struck by a sudden wave of self-consciousness, she tore her gaze from his and focused on the drying grass by the side of the path. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Blurting all this out. I usually have better control.”
“Maybe that’s why it came out. Maybe it needed to come out.”
“But to you?” She raised her eyes, perplexed. “We’re strangers,” she argued in stark reminder to herself.
“Not really,” he said gently. “There are times when I look into your eyes and feel I’ve known you all my life.”
“But you haven’t.”
“Not yet.” He smiled again. “Speaking of which—” he tipped her face up with his thumbs “—you never did tell me what you teach.”
For a final moment they stood there, looking at each other in silent awareness of something very special that had passed between them. For Carly, it was the sharing of her grief, something she hadn’t done in quite that way to any other human being. She had offered Ryan a bit of Robyn. And in that instant, rather than feeling duplicitous, she felt strangely whole.
For Ryan, it was something else. For a few moments at least, he’d penetrated Carly’s shell, glimpsed a part of her that he sensed few people saw. She’d kissed him back…that was it…their lips had never touched…yet she had kissed him back.
His thumb moved from her jaw to the softness of her mouth. Entranced, he slowly outlined its sensuous curve, feeling her lips part beneath his touch. His eye sought hers then, and he knew that she was, at that moment, as open to him as she’d ever been. His heart-beat sped; the pulse at her neck kept time. If it was the present he advocated, he had a point to make.
Six
w HEN HE LOWERED HIS HEAD THIS TIME, THERE was no hand to block his lips from hers. He kissed her in a whisper, barely touching her lips at first, then very slowly, very carefully deepening the touch. Her warmth was intoxicating, every bit as sweet as he’d imagined it to be when he’d lain in bed last night, frustrated and taut. He took his time; there was no rush. In a rare instance in his life, he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation with total satisfaction. There seemed no goal more precious than this simple tasting of lips, this simple act of
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