that it’s right in time.” He glanced around. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“ I’ll do the dishes.” Laura leaped to her feet, grabbing the plates. “Owen, you’re wrong. I’m not afraid of…anything. You’re dead wrong. My dad is a geologist; we traveled all over the world. I was never afraid of starting over, making new friends, settling in new places. It took courage to demand a divorce when I was two months pregnant. Moving here, where I knew no one, having the baby alone—no one can accuse me of not having courage!”
Owen rinsed out a cup and set it in the dishwasher, holding Mari at the same time. “You are,” he agreed lightly, “a very courageous lady. Want the margarine in the fridge?”
“No. Yes.” Laura flipped back her hair, feeling thoroughly unnerved. Thoroughly distracted, she rinsed the rest of the dishes and slipped them in the dishwasher. I love you, and I think you’re damn dose to loving me.
Did she? Did she love the man who was busy carrying her baby around, putting the bread in the wrong place and stealing a cookie from the box directly after breakfast? The man who never coated honesty with sugar or champagne? The man she’d trusted enough to tell her story to the night before?
Yes.
And for a time she wanted to just be alone and absorb the reality of loving him. Instead, he was bringing her an egg-caked frying pan to scour and leaning over her while she did it, the baby kicking on his shoulder and his voice as soothing as silk in water. “So we’re just going to spend time together for a while. No-pressure time, okay?”
“No.” She attacked the pan with a vengeance.
“I always leave the egg pan on the counter to soak.”
“You would—being male,” she said teasingly.
His tone changed from casual to gruff and gravelly. “And a male you can kick out any time, Laura. If I’ve misunderstood how you feel…”
His comment seemed to linger in the air. Laura lifted the clean pan out of the sudsy water and rinsed it. Her counters needed wiping; there was a fingerprint on a cupboard, then the stove… She was suddenly very busy. Only a few moments later, there was nothing left to do.
She slipped her hands into the pockets of her sundress and turned to face him. “No. You haven’t misunderstood anything,” she said softly. “But I can’t promise you anything either, Owen. Maybe I am afraid…of a physical relationship.” She took a breath. “I also know it isn’t fair to ask you to wait while I sort out that part of my life.”
“Fair?” he chided. He took two steps forward, close enough to brush her cheek tenderly with his hand. “It takes two to be fair, Laura. You’ve been hurt…and I’ve been pushing you faster than you wanted to go. We’ll wait until you’re ready.”
“And if that’s never?”
He smiled. “Never’s a silly word, sweet.”
She looked at him searchingly. The man said he loved her, and if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, he meant it. He also had all but said he was willing to settle for a platonic relationship for now…but she knew better.
Owen was a virile man, a sensual man, and he wanted her. She wanted him just as much, but expressing that desire—she wasn’t sure if she could, when it meant the risk of failing him as a woman. For now, it wasn’t a problem. For now, she had those convenient stitches she kept teasing him with.
But those would heal. And if she’d learned nothing else from her marriage with Peter, she’d learned that two people have to give and need and want in the same way. Laura couldn’t take love and caring from Owen without offering them equally in return.
Chapter 7
Laura opened the refrigerator and glared at the treasure trove of chocolates. Jaws clamped together, she closed the refrigerator and stalked back to her dining room-cum-office.
Mari was six weeks old today; Laura’s stomach was finally flat again, and there was no way she was going to blow it by bingeing on chocolates. If
“ I’ll do the dishes.” Laura leaped to her feet, grabbing the plates. “Owen, you’re wrong. I’m not afraid of…anything. You’re dead wrong. My dad is a geologist; we traveled all over the world. I was never afraid of starting over, making new friends, settling in new places. It took courage to demand a divorce when I was two months pregnant. Moving here, where I knew no one, having the baby alone—no one can accuse me of not having courage!”
Owen rinsed out a cup and set it in the dishwasher, holding Mari at the same time. “You are,” he agreed lightly, “a very courageous lady. Want the margarine in the fridge?”
“No. Yes.” Laura flipped back her hair, feeling thoroughly unnerved. Thoroughly distracted, she rinsed the rest of the dishes and slipped them in the dishwasher. I love you, and I think you’re damn dose to loving me.
Did she? Did she love the man who was busy carrying her baby around, putting the bread in the wrong place and stealing a cookie from the box directly after breakfast? The man who never coated honesty with sugar or champagne? The man she’d trusted enough to tell her story to the night before?
Yes.
And for a time she wanted to just be alone and absorb the reality of loving him. Instead, he was bringing her an egg-caked frying pan to scour and leaning over her while she did it, the baby kicking on his shoulder and his voice as soothing as silk in water. “So we’re just going to spend time together for a while. No-pressure time, okay?”
“No.” She attacked the pan with a vengeance.
“I always leave the egg pan on the counter to soak.”
“You would—being male,” she said teasingly.
His tone changed from casual to gruff and gravelly. “And a male you can kick out any time, Laura. If I’ve misunderstood how you feel…”
His comment seemed to linger in the air. Laura lifted the clean pan out of the sudsy water and rinsed it. Her counters needed wiping; there was a fingerprint on a cupboard, then the stove… She was suddenly very busy. Only a few moments later, there was nothing left to do.
She slipped her hands into the pockets of her sundress and turned to face him. “No. You haven’t misunderstood anything,” she said softly. “But I can’t promise you anything either, Owen. Maybe I am afraid…of a physical relationship.” She took a breath. “I also know it isn’t fair to ask you to wait while I sort out that part of my life.”
“Fair?” he chided. He took two steps forward, close enough to brush her cheek tenderly with his hand. “It takes two to be fair, Laura. You’ve been hurt…and I’ve been pushing you faster than you wanted to go. We’ll wait until you’re ready.”
“And if that’s never?”
He smiled. “Never’s a silly word, sweet.”
She looked at him searchingly. The man said he loved her, and if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, he meant it. He also had all but said he was willing to settle for a platonic relationship for now…but she knew better.
Owen was a virile man, a sensual man, and he wanted her. She wanted him just as much, but expressing that desire—she wasn’t sure if she could, when it meant the risk of failing him as a woman. For now, it wasn’t a problem. For now, she had those convenient stitches she kept teasing him with.
But those would heal. And if she’d learned nothing else from her marriage with Peter, she’d learned that two people have to give and need and want in the same way. Laura couldn’t take love and caring from Owen without offering them equally in return.
Chapter 7
Laura opened the refrigerator and glared at the treasure trove of chocolates. Jaws clamped together, she closed the refrigerator and stalked back to her dining room-cum-office.
Mari was six weeks old today; Laura’s stomach was finally flat again, and there was no way she was going to blow it by bingeing on chocolates. If
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