Kisses From Heaven by Jennifer Greene Page A

foil, and the salad made. Buck prepared the steaks. The dinner took twice as long to prepare because he kept stopping every few minutes to touch her. He had brushed her hair himself, had forced a pair of his socks over her derelict mismatches so her feet wouldn’t be cold on the kitchen floor. She set the dishes on the coffee table in the living room because the kitchen was too cold, and by the time they sat on the carpet across from each other, Loren felt a permanent flush on her face. She had never felt quite so beautiful, so cherished, never so cossetted.
    It had become dark outside, the way night pops down like a curtain in winter, and the lake outside was like ink, still and black. There were no other lights or signs of people around anywhere. They might just have been in a universe of their own making. The steaks steamed fragrantly, and butter was melting on the baked potatoes; she could not remember a dinner that looked or smelled as good. She was ravenous, and Buck served her a ridiculously large portion of steak—almost as large as his own.
    “You are aware I’m half your size,” she said teasingly.
    “I’m aware of every inch of you,” he scolded back wickedly, and then his smile faded, and he poured her a little more wine. “You really haven’t given me much choice but to marry you, Loren.”
    She thought he was teasing. “Are you trying to spoil the first illicit thing I’ve ever done in my life?” Her smile disappeared when she saw his expression. “You can’t possibly be serious!”
    “So we haven’t known each other very long.” He took a bite of steak, his eyes boring straight into hers. “You know the core of the man, Loren. Well enough to have made love with him. Well enough to have said you love him. Have you changed your mind?”
    She set down her knife and fork and curled up her knees, her hands in her lap. “Buck,” she said despairingly.
    “Did you lie, Loren?”
    “No.” She shook her head. “But that has nothing to do with it…” This tough, craggy-featured man had very soft eyes, at least where she was concerned. Or always had. But suddenly, those eyes took on a hard jade fire that seared, and the jaw set in lines that didn’t give. She felt stunned, the world suddenly knocked for six.
    “I know all about your family, and your responsibilities, Loren. We’ll get to that. But we’ll stay with the two of us for another minute or two.” When he saw she wasn’t eating, he speared a piece of steak and held it in front of her lips. He motioned to her twice before she took it. “I knew you weren’t ideal affair material from the moment I set eyes on you. In fact, you’re rotten affair material, Loren.”
    She found another tidbit of steak in front of her mouth before she’d finished swallowing the first. She swallowed, shook her head—but the fork stayed in front of her lips. “Buck…” Her parted lips were force-fed the steak; she glared at him.
    “Apart from your character, half-pint, I’m not going to be satisfied with being squeezed into your busy schedule. It wouldn’t work, Loren, an affair. You said it yourself; you run yourself into the ground until there’s nothing left over. There’s no time for loving in your life. Or did you think you were just going to be able to walk away after today?”
    She swallowed the steak and this time firmly pushed aside his hands. “No,” she said quietly, “but I thought you would, Buck. I knew what I was risking when you came into my life. I knew my responsibilities and that I didn’t have the…right…to a relationship. Love doesn’t really conquer all; I’m not seventeen anymore. I wanted…my minutes with you, whatever we could have. But when I go home tonight, it’s to Gramps and hiding bottles and Angela and the house. Then there’s my job, the four hundred–plus men, Frank, the extra paperwork…I can’t change that, Buck—”
    “I can.” He motioned to her plate. “Eat, Loren.”
    But she no longer