truth was he’d been thinking about kissing her for some time now, and once she was there pressed against him …
Her lips were full and moist with rain, and in spite of the difference in their heights, his first thought was that they fit together as if they had been made to complete one another. The thought was stunning. Never in his life had he had such a sense of belonging with a woman as he did holding Anja in his arms. He told himself it was the situation—the danger, the uncertainty of their lives. But deep inside he knew better.
He was aware of the two soldiers passing by. They were young, judging by their snickers and snorts. One of them muttered something in German that Peter was pretty sure he didn’t need or want a translation for. Their leather-heeled boots echoed on the pavement as they moved on down the street. Still Peter held Anja close, and he realized that she seemed in no hurry to move away from him. Her shoulders were shaking, and he tried to soothe her sobs. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “They’ve gone.”
“I’m not crying,” she said through her giggles as she snaked her hands up to his face and cupped his cheeks. “You are very quick thinking, Peter Trent. I will give you that.” She pushed away from him and straightened her hat before starting once again to walk toward the café.
Had the kiss meant nothing to her?
He had been rocked to his core. She had laughed.
The only thing Anja could think to do was to laugh. Peter’s kiss had ignited a fire in her that she’d believed had died with Benjamin. Up to now she had been able to rationalize any hint of attraction she felt for Peter as the result of being overtired or as something that arose out of her concern for his safe return to England and eventually to his family in America. Up to now she had shrugged off Lisbeth’s none-too-subtle hints that perhaps the time had come for Anja to consider a new future for herself and Daniel—one that included the possibility of marriage and even more children. As if such a thing could simply be wished for and it would happen.
But with one kiss, he had made a lie of everything she had tried to tell herself about her emotions when it came to this American flyboy. To have feelings for Peter Trent was ridiculous, impossible, insane. And she simply would not permit such feelings to cloud the serious work ahead of them both.
“That was close,” she said as she glanced down the street to where the two soldiers were turning a corner.
“I doubt they would have questioned us anyway,” Peter replied. “They’re young and—”
“Sometimes it’s the younger ones you need to watch out for. They can be instilled with a false sense of power—well, in reality not so false. They have the power to question, to arrest, to shoot you in the street if they decide that’s what is called for.”
She was instructing him now, and she felt the tension of annoyance tighten the muscles in his arm as they walked back to the café. “Okay, I get it,” he muttered, speaking in English.
“I just wouldn’t want—”
“Just drop it.”
“I don’t see why you are so annoyed. I am just trying to—”
“Knock off the lectures, Anja. Maybe kissing you wasn’t the best choice, but give me credit at least for thinking fast, okay?”
Aside from the topic under discussion, it was a strange exchange because she had continued speaking to him in German while he had reverted to English, and she wasn’t sure he was aware he had made the switch.
“You do know that you are speaking to me in your native tongue,” she said as they stepped inside the café and stopped to place the umbrella in its stand and shake off the rain from their outer garments.
“I … I mean
Ich …
”
“Too late,” she said. “If this had been a real test, you would be on your way to Gestapo headquarters by now.
“I’ll just go say goodnight to Josef and Lisbeth,” she added. And she trudged up the stairs without
Her lips were full and moist with rain, and in spite of the difference in their heights, his first thought was that they fit together as if they had been made to complete one another. The thought was stunning. Never in his life had he had such a sense of belonging with a woman as he did holding Anja in his arms. He told himself it was the situation—the danger, the uncertainty of their lives. But deep inside he knew better.
He was aware of the two soldiers passing by. They were young, judging by their snickers and snorts. One of them muttered something in German that Peter was pretty sure he didn’t need or want a translation for. Their leather-heeled boots echoed on the pavement as they moved on down the street. Still Peter held Anja close, and he realized that she seemed in no hurry to move away from him. Her shoulders were shaking, and he tried to soothe her sobs. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “They’ve gone.”
“I’m not crying,” she said through her giggles as she snaked her hands up to his face and cupped his cheeks. “You are very quick thinking, Peter Trent. I will give you that.” She pushed away from him and straightened her hat before starting once again to walk toward the café.
Had the kiss meant nothing to her?
He had been rocked to his core. She had laughed.
The only thing Anja could think to do was to laugh. Peter’s kiss had ignited a fire in her that she’d believed had died with Benjamin. Up to now she had been able to rationalize any hint of attraction she felt for Peter as the result of being overtired or as something that arose out of her concern for his safe return to England and eventually to his family in America. Up to now she had shrugged off Lisbeth’s none-too-subtle hints that perhaps the time had come for Anja to consider a new future for herself and Daniel—one that included the possibility of marriage and even more children. As if such a thing could simply be wished for and it would happen.
But with one kiss, he had made a lie of everything she had tried to tell herself about her emotions when it came to this American flyboy. To have feelings for Peter Trent was ridiculous, impossible, insane. And she simply would not permit such feelings to cloud the serious work ahead of them both.
“That was close,” she said as she glanced down the street to where the two soldiers were turning a corner.
“I doubt they would have questioned us anyway,” Peter replied. “They’re young and—”
“Sometimes it’s the younger ones you need to watch out for. They can be instilled with a false sense of power—well, in reality not so false. They have the power to question, to arrest, to shoot you in the street if they decide that’s what is called for.”
She was instructing him now, and she felt the tension of annoyance tighten the muscles in his arm as they walked back to the café. “Okay, I get it,” he muttered, speaking in English.
“I just wouldn’t want—”
“Just drop it.”
“I don’t see why you are so annoyed. I am just trying to—”
“Knock off the lectures, Anja. Maybe kissing you wasn’t the best choice, but give me credit at least for thinking fast, okay?”
Aside from the topic under discussion, it was a strange exchange because she had continued speaking to him in German while he had reverted to English, and she wasn’t sure he was aware he had made the switch.
“You do know that you are speaking to me in your native tongue,” she said as they stepped inside the café and stopped to place the umbrella in its stand and shake off the rain from their outer garments.
“I … I mean
Ich …
”
“Too late,” she said. “If this had been a real test, you would be on your way to Gestapo headquarters by now.
“I’ll just go say goodnight to Josef and Lisbeth,” she added. And she trudged up the stairs without
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