hands sliding up and down his back, restless
and wanting. He was taller, broader, than she remembered.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” she murmured, her voice muffled.
“Dreamed of it and yearned for it.”
She felt his lips move in her hair, felt his arms tighten
around her, and then he was lifting her chin, gazing down into her eyes, and
she knew he was going to kiss her.
Her eyelids fluttered down as his mouth closed over hers. As
if by magic, the years fell away, and she was thirteen again, being kissed for
the first time. It was as wonderful, as magical, as she recalled. At thirteen,
she had been confused by the yearnings of her body, by the heat that had flowed
through every particle of her being, by feelings she had not understood. At
twenty-three, she knew what desire was, knew that one kiss would surely lead to
another, and another. And feared that she was no more capable of denying him,
of denying herself, now than she had been at seventeen.
She pressed against him, reveling in the feel of his arms
around her—arms that were stronger and more muscled than she remembered. She
breathed in his scent, ran her fingers through the thick hair at his nape. How
had she lived all these years without this, without him?
She closed her eyes, imprinting this memory in her mind
And then, summoning every ounce of willpower she possessed,
she drew away, her hands clenched at her sides. “That shouldn’t have happened,”
she said. “It can’t happen again.”
“Tell me you didn’t like it.” His gaze bored into hers,
demanding the truth. “Tell me you don’t want me to do it again.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m promised to Roger. And I
keep my promises.”
“Is that right?” he asked, and there was no mistaking the
barely suppressed anger in his voice. “What about the promise you made to me?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Dammit, ‘Lisha, I told you I would have come back for you,
but I thought you were married.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m engaged to Roger, and I won’t
hurt him. He’s been good to me.” She knew about hurt, about the pain of broken
promises and broken hearts. She wrapped her arms around her body to keep from
reaching for him. “Please, Mitch, just go away and leave me alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, “but if you mean what
you say, I won’t bother you anymore.”
“I do mean it.”
Mitch nodded slowly. “All right, ‘Lisha, if that’s the way
you want it. I hope you won’t regret it.”
“I won’t,” she said, but it was a lie, the worst lie she had
ever told. She watched him turn and walk away, and it felt as though he was
taking her heart and soul with him.
When he was out of sight, she hurried home, trying to
convince herself she had done the right thing in sending Mitch away. For a
moment, she stood on the porch, staring down at the creek. He was crazy to
think they could just pick up where they had left off five years ago, and she had
been crazy to consider it even for a moment. She had promised to marry Roger,
and she meant to keep that promise.
What about the promise you made me? Mitch’s voice
rang in her mind, his voice angry and hurt-filled.
With a sigh, she opened the door and stepped into the foyer.
“I’m home, Papa.”
“In here, Alisha.”
She followed the sound of her father’s voice into the den.
Her father looked up from the letter he was writing. “Roger
came by a little while ago.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. He said he was sorry he missed you. So,” Russell said,
dipping his pen in the ink well on the corner of his desk. “How did it go? Did
you get everything straightened out with Will and his folks?”
“What?”
Russell frowned. “Are you feeling well? You look a little
pale.”
“Papa, why did you write to Mitch and tell him I married
Roger?”
There was a taut silence. The pen dropped from her father’s
hand. Drops of ink spread over the neatly written
and wanting. He was taller, broader, than she remembered.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” she murmured, her voice muffled.
“Dreamed of it and yearned for it.”
She felt his lips move in her hair, felt his arms tighten
around her, and then he was lifting her chin, gazing down into her eyes, and
she knew he was going to kiss her.
Her eyelids fluttered down as his mouth closed over hers. As
if by magic, the years fell away, and she was thirteen again, being kissed for
the first time. It was as wonderful, as magical, as she recalled. At thirteen,
she had been confused by the yearnings of her body, by the heat that had flowed
through every particle of her being, by feelings she had not understood. At
twenty-three, she knew what desire was, knew that one kiss would surely lead to
another, and another. And feared that she was no more capable of denying him,
of denying herself, now than she had been at seventeen.
She pressed against him, reveling in the feel of his arms
around her—arms that were stronger and more muscled than she remembered. She
breathed in his scent, ran her fingers through the thick hair at his nape. How
had she lived all these years without this, without him?
She closed her eyes, imprinting this memory in her mind
And then, summoning every ounce of willpower she possessed,
she drew away, her hands clenched at her sides. “That shouldn’t have happened,”
she said. “It can’t happen again.”
“Tell me you didn’t like it.” His gaze bored into hers,
demanding the truth. “Tell me you don’t want me to do it again.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m promised to Roger. And I
keep my promises.”
“Is that right?” he asked, and there was no mistaking the
barely suppressed anger in his voice. “What about the promise you made to me?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Dammit, ‘Lisha, I told you I would have come back for you,
but I thought you were married.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m engaged to Roger, and I won’t
hurt him. He’s been good to me.” She knew about hurt, about the pain of broken
promises and broken hearts. She wrapped her arms around her body to keep from
reaching for him. “Please, Mitch, just go away and leave me alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, “but if you mean what
you say, I won’t bother you anymore.”
“I do mean it.”
Mitch nodded slowly. “All right, ‘Lisha, if that’s the way
you want it. I hope you won’t regret it.”
“I won’t,” she said, but it was a lie, the worst lie she had
ever told. She watched him turn and walk away, and it felt as though he was
taking her heart and soul with him.
When he was out of sight, she hurried home, trying to
convince herself she had done the right thing in sending Mitch away. For a
moment, she stood on the porch, staring down at the creek. He was crazy to
think they could just pick up where they had left off five years ago, and she had
been crazy to consider it even for a moment. She had promised to marry Roger,
and she meant to keep that promise.
What about the promise you made me? Mitch’s voice
rang in her mind, his voice angry and hurt-filled.
With a sigh, she opened the door and stepped into the foyer.
“I’m home, Papa.”
“In here, Alisha.”
She followed the sound of her father’s voice into the den.
Her father looked up from the letter he was writing. “Roger
came by a little while ago.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. He said he was sorry he missed you. So,” Russell said,
dipping his pen in the ink well on the corner of his desk. “How did it go? Did
you get everything straightened out with Will and his folks?”
“What?”
Russell frowned. “Are you feeling well? You look a little
pale.”
“Papa, why did you write to Mitch and tell him I married
Roger?”
There was a taut silence. The pen dropped from her father’s
hand. Drops of ink spread over the neatly written
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