a matter of
determination, she decided. And knowing whether you want it badly enough.
"How
about a walk on the beach before we start back?" she said after they'd
eaten.
"You
two youngsters go do that," Lil said. She sounded like her old self when
she added, "I want to measure some of these windows. It will take forever
to get the curtains made. Warren, you must tell me whether you mean to have the
bedroom next to mine, or the one across the hall."
"You
decide," he said. "It doesn't matter to me." He left to go back
to the barren yard heaped with builder's rubble in which he planned to make a
garden.
Luke
grinned at Amy, and they slipped out the door and headed for the beach.
"Now, tell me what you said up there," he demanded. "When Lil
went upstairs with you she was horrified. When she came down she'd given
in."
"I
told her the truth. That Warren had bought the house and meant to spend his
summers in it. With or without her."
Luke
stopped in his tracks and stared at her. "Little Amy," he said
softly, "you are a very tough lady."
She
shook her head. "No," she said. "But sometimes I understand how
things are."
They
walked the length of the deserted beach. The tide was out, and the ocean was a
lacy froth trembling in the distance. Amy turned and looked back the way they'd
come. "The houses are little dollops of cream on the horizon."
Luke
took her hand. "Don't look back, Amy, look forward. "
She
was not quite sure what he meant. "What does that look like to you?"
She nodded toward the coast guard station. The spit of land that was Atlantic
Beach narrowed at this point, and the building was close behind them. They
could see the boat ramp reaching into the inlet and the tower high above.
"I
don't know," Luke said. "I've no gift for metaphor."
"Cyclops,
the one-eyed giant."
"He
wasn't very nice."
"No,
let's forget about him." She had left her hat at the house and a soft
breeze ruffled her dark hair. December was still pretending to be May.
"It's beautiful here. If I were Lil, I'd never want to go back."
He
smiled and took her upturned face between his hands. "Don't be Lit. Don't
be a spinster, Amy. You're meant for love and marriage and all the happy
things."
Their
eyes caught and held. Amy's lips parted slightly. She felt his fingers lightly
touching her cheeks. Tentatively, she put her hands on his arms.
"Oh,
God," Luke whispered. It was half-prayer and half-curse.
Then
he was holding her tight and his mouth was on hers and it was like that day in
Central Park, only more so. This time they tasted each other avidly, hungrily.
Their tongues probed and their bodies locked so close it was as if there were
no layers of clothes separating their flesh. His hands moved down her spine.
He
was feeling, groping, seeking. She shivered beneath his touch. Her fingers
tangled in his thick blond hair and held his face against hers. The kiss went
on and on. Luke's hands were on her buttocks pressing her even closer. She felt
him move. His hard taut body seemed to imprint itself on the softness of her
belly, her thighs, and her breasts.
Finally
the kiss ended, but neither of them moved out of the embrace. Amy buried her
face in his shoulder. She nuzzled his neck and smelled the warm spicy maleness
of his skin. She heard him moan and sensed the increased urgency of the movement
of his hips. Her tongue licked his flesh. She wanted to bite, to devour the
essence of all that was Luke. He made a sound deep in his throat that ended in
a gasp. It was like nothing she'd ever heard. There was something elementary in
that cry. It frightened her and pleased her at the same time, and Amy could
interpret neither feeling.
Suddenly
he let her go and almost pushed her away. "Oh, God," he said again.
Luke
turned and walked some distance from her. Amy stared after him. His shoes
raised little puffs of sand, then he stood still and stared out at the
determination, she decided. And knowing whether you want it badly enough.
"How
about a walk on the beach before we start back?" she said after they'd
eaten.
"You
two youngsters go do that," Lil said. She sounded like her old self when
she added, "I want to measure some of these windows. It will take forever
to get the curtains made. Warren, you must tell me whether you mean to have the
bedroom next to mine, or the one across the hall."
"You
decide," he said. "It doesn't matter to me." He left to go back
to the barren yard heaped with builder's rubble in which he planned to make a
garden.
Luke
grinned at Amy, and they slipped out the door and headed for the beach.
"Now, tell me what you said up there," he demanded. "When Lil
went upstairs with you she was horrified. When she came down she'd given
in."
"I
told her the truth. That Warren had bought the house and meant to spend his
summers in it. With or without her."
Luke
stopped in his tracks and stared at her. "Little Amy," he said
softly, "you are a very tough lady."
She
shook her head. "No," she said. "But sometimes I understand how
things are."
They
walked the length of the deserted beach. The tide was out, and the ocean was a
lacy froth trembling in the distance. Amy turned and looked back the way they'd
come. "The houses are little dollops of cream on the horizon."
Luke
took her hand. "Don't look back, Amy, look forward. "
She
was not quite sure what he meant. "What does that look like to you?"
She nodded toward the coast guard station. The spit of land that was Atlantic
Beach narrowed at this point, and the building was close behind them. They
could see the boat ramp reaching into the inlet and the tower high above.
"I
don't know," Luke said. "I've no gift for metaphor."
"Cyclops,
the one-eyed giant."
"He
wasn't very nice."
"No,
let's forget about him." She had left her hat at the house and a soft
breeze ruffled her dark hair. December was still pretending to be May.
"It's beautiful here. If I were Lil, I'd never want to go back."
He
smiled and took her upturned face between his hands. "Don't be Lit. Don't
be a spinster, Amy. You're meant for love and marriage and all the happy
things."
Their
eyes caught and held. Amy's lips parted slightly. She felt his fingers lightly
touching her cheeks. Tentatively, she put her hands on his arms.
"Oh,
God," Luke whispered. It was half-prayer and half-curse.
Then
he was holding her tight and his mouth was on hers and it was like that day in
Central Park, only more so. This time they tasted each other avidly, hungrily.
Their tongues probed and their bodies locked so close it was as if there were
no layers of clothes separating their flesh. His hands moved down her spine.
He
was feeling, groping, seeking. She shivered beneath his touch. Her fingers
tangled in his thick blond hair and held his face against hers. The kiss went
on and on. Luke's hands were on her buttocks pressing her even closer. She felt
him move. His hard taut body seemed to imprint itself on the softness of her
belly, her thighs, and her breasts.
Finally
the kiss ended, but neither of them moved out of the embrace. Amy buried her
face in his shoulder. She nuzzled his neck and smelled the warm spicy maleness
of his skin. She heard him moan and sensed the increased urgency of the movement
of his hips. Her tongue licked his flesh. She wanted to bite, to devour the
essence of all that was Luke. He made a sound deep in his throat that ended in
a gasp. It was like nothing she'd ever heard. There was something elementary in
that cry. It frightened her and pleased her at the same time, and Amy could
interpret neither feeling.
Suddenly
he let her go and almost pushed her away. "Oh, God," he said again.
Luke
turned and walked some distance from her. Amy stared after him. His shoes
raised little puffs of sand, then he stood still and stared out at the
Similar Books
