deep sincerity of his words.
“I know you’re not Terry, or not like him,” she said softly. The right answer was important now she knew; every man—or woman, for that matter—wanted to be loved for what he or she was. “Terry was part of another lifetime. I loved him, but I’d never look to replace him.” A slight beading of perspiration broke out across her forehead, and her hands went clammy. She needed to say more...“I love you, Wes.” There. It hadn’t been hard, it had been incredibly easy.
And it was out...it was said. He intended to have her, he had told her, so she waited with anxious anticipation for his response. Surely he would take her into a passionate embrace...or make a new declaration in return.
Wes responded neither way, yet the intensity of his voice and the tender reverence with which he lightly lifted her chin to meet his eyes left her trembling, her mouth dry, her senses paralyzed.
“I can’t tell you what hearing that means, Sloan. I think I’ve waited half my life to hear those words from you, and I would have waited another eternity.”
Sloan tried to smile but found that she couldn’t. His eyes burned into hers, deeply green, deeply charged with electric emotion. She was unable to look away, unable to release herself even as she wondered once again if he was seeing through her, reading all the thoughts and sins that existed within her soul. No, he couldn’t be, because if he could read her soul, he would not be sitting there, he would be racing out the door.
He did stand, breaking the moment’s spell. “I’d better run,” he said, his hand settling gently on the top of her head and lightly massaging her hair against her temple. “Tomorrow is a workday for you, and I have an eight A.M. meeting a few miles out of town.” He reached to grasp her hands and pull her to her feet. “Come on, walk me to the door.”
Rising and slipping into the easy shelter of his arm, Sloan allowed her worry to cease. Her mind turned to the comfort and pleasure she found with his touch and easy camaraderie.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked at her with a rueful grin. “I guess this is it until Saturday night,” he murmured softly.
“Oh?” Sloan queried, somewhat surprised that he wouldn’t be with her the next night—and startlingly disappointed. Had she come to depend on him so much that a night away seemed like endless time?
“I have another meeting tomorrow night,” he explained. “One that might not end till midnight.”
“You’re welcome to stop by.” Sloan murmured, hearing herself say the words without thought.
“No.” He smiled broadly, his eyes very gentle, as if the thought on her part had meant very much. “Your dance is on Saturday—I’m sure it’s quite a rush with the children and then the students. I don’t want to be the one to keep you from a peak performance, and”—he brushed a kiss against her temple—“I also have selfish reasons for wanting you well rested. I want to keep you out till all hours on Saturday night!”
“Oh,” Sloan repeated, aware that her pulse was racing madly and she was anticipating his mind-numbing good-night kiss.
But again, he did the unexpected. Instead of pulling her into the tight embrace of his arms, he brushed her forehead again with the briefest of feather-light caresses. And yet, the passion was there, barely hooded by sensuously lazy lids over the ocean-deep eyes as he pulled away. “Till Saturday night,” he said huskily.
Sloan watched as his tall form disappeared down the path and into his car. She was dismayed to realize that she was hopelessly frustrated. Her anticipation had taunted her senses unbearably. It was with a raw, physical pain that she watched him leave, a fervent prayer on her lips; let it be soon...please, let it be soon.
But could she force a wedding soon enough while still pretending to be the one to fall heedlessly under the spell of a relentless pursuer?
Sloan would
“I know you’re not Terry, or not like him,” she said softly. The right answer was important now she knew; every man—or woman, for that matter—wanted to be loved for what he or she was. “Terry was part of another lifetime. I loved him, but I’d never look to replace him.” A slight beading of perspiration broke out across her forehead, and her hands went clammy. She needed to say more...“I love you, Wes.” There. It hadn’t been hard, it had been incredibly easy.
And it was out...it was said. He intended to have her, he had told her, so she waited with anxious anticipation for his response. Surely he would take her into a passionate embrace...or make a new declaration in return.
Wes responded neither way, yet the intensity of his voice and the tender reverence with which he lightly lifted her chin to meet his eyes left her trembling, her mouth dry, her senses paralyzed.
“I can’t tell you what hearing that means, Sloan. I think I’ve waited half my life to hear those words from you, and I would have waited another eternity.”
Sloan tried to smile but found that she couldn’t. His eyes burned into hers, deeply green, deeply charged with electric emotion. She was unable to look away, unable to release herself even as she wondered once again if he was seeing through her, reading all the thoughts and sins that existed within her soul. No, he couldn’t be, because if he could read her soul, he would not be sitting there, he would be racing out the door.
He did stand, breaking the moment’s spell. “I’d better run,” he said, his hand settling gently on the top of her head and lightly massaging her hair against her temple. “Tomorrow is a workday for you, and I have an eight A.M. meeting a few miles out of town.” He reached to grasp her hands and pull her to her feet. “Come on, walk me to the door.”
Rising and slipping into the easy shelter of his arm, Sloan allowed her worry to cease. Her mind turned to the comfort and pleasure she found with his touch and easy camaraderie.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked at her with a rueful grin. “I guess this is it until Saturday night,” he murmured softly.
“Oh?” Sloan queried, somewhat surprised that he wouldn’t be with her the next night—and startlingly disappointed. Had she come to depend on him so much that a night away seemed like endless time?
“I have another meeting tomorrow night,” he explained. “One that might not end till midnight.”
“You’re welcome to stop by.” Sloan murmured, hearing herself say the words without thought.
“No.” He smiled broadly, his eyes very gentle, as if the thought on her part had meant very much. “Your dance is on Saturday—I’m sure it’s quite a rush with the children and then the students. I don’t want to be the one to keep you from a peak performance, and”—he brushed a kiss against her temple—“I also have selfish reasons for wanting you well rested. I want to keep you out till all hours on Saturday night!”
“Oh,” Sloan repeated, aware that her pulse was racing madly and she was anticipating his mind-numbing good-night kiss.
But again, he did the unexpected. Instead of pulling her into the tight embrace of his arms, he brushed her forehead again with the briefest of feather-light caresses. And yet, the passion was there, barely hooded by sensuously lazy lids over the ocean-deep eyes as he pulled away. “Till Saturday night,” he said huskily.
Sloan watched as his tall form disappeared down the path and into his car. She was dismayed to realize that she was hopelessly frustrated. Her anticipation had taunted her senses unbearably. It was with a raw, physical pain that she watched him leave, a fervent prayer on her lips; let it be soon...please, let it be soon.
But could she force a wedding soon enough while still pretending to be the one to fall heedlessly under the spell of a relentless pursuer?
Sloan would
Similar Books
