words, he almost convinced himself of it.
Susan murmured something that Dan could not make out. He turned his attention back to the TV screen although he had lost whatever interest he had originally had in the drama. His mind was picturing an Aztec priest cutting the heart out of a sacrificial victim. The priest looked like Muncrief.
"Jace seems happy here."
He felt his brows rise. "Yep. Just the same as always. I don't think he's even changed his shirt."
Susan laughed. "That's Jace."
"Yeah." Dan did not crack a smile. He knew that he had not told his wife the exact truth. Jace was different, somehow. The difference was subtle, only one of degree. But it was there. Dan tried to shrug it off. Just the first day; we'll get back to normal in a day or so.
A commercial came on, showing a gleaming silver little convertible hotfooting along a winding mountain road.
"Now that's some car," Dan said.
"Not for us," said Susan. "I'm going to get myself something much more practical."
"I can dream, can't I?"
"I only meant," she said, worming an arm around his waist, "that convertibles don't make sense here. The sun's too hot almost all year long."
"Muncrief doesn't seem to mind the sun," Dan muttered.
"He doesn't have two children to think of. And a wife with fair skin."
He turned toward her. "Fair? your skin's better than fair. I think your skin's terrific." Dan traced a finger along the curve of her jaw, then tapped the end of her pert nose. "Wouldn't want that cute little proboscis to get sunburned."
She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I love it when you talk scientific."
He broke into a grin. Leaning closer he whispered into her ear, "Testosterone. Estrogen. Penis. Coitus."
Susan whispered back, "More! More!"
"Fellatio. Cunnilingus."
"Oh god!"
He scooped her up in his arms and marched off to the bedroom.
The first time they had made love Dan had surprised her with his fiercely single-minded intensity. Susan had known a soft-spoken, reserved, gentle man who had taken her to dinners and movies and picnics. Many nights they had talked for hours, usually in his car, often until the sun came up. Dan had told her all about his childhood in Youngstown, his work at Wright-Patterson, how much he owed to Dr Appleton. Susan had fallen in love with an earnest, shy, hard-working man who was almost a nerd in comparison to some of the men she had dated.
Yet there was something beneath the surface, a smoldering drive that she sensed from the very first. When at last she decided to go to bed with him, Susan found that she had been more right than she had dreamed. In bed Dan turned into a different person altogether. All the inhibitions, all the cautions and modesty and self-effacements disappeared once he had his hands on her naked flesh.
She saw the passion that he hid from everyone else, even from himself. It almost frightened her, at first, but then she realized that Dan was much more than the uptight engineer she had first imagined him to be. What she had taken to be shyness was actually something close to fear; Dan was not bashful so much as wary, always on guard, as if to protect himself against being hurt by the people around him. She began to see him as a coiled panther, every muscle tensed, every nerve straining against the dangers of the world.
Except in bed. There he was a fiery passionate Italian who swept away all her doubts and inhibitions. It was as if the rest of the world disappeared and there were only the two of them with Dan concentrating every facet of his attention, every molecule of his existence on her and her alone. God knew what fantasies might be boiling through his mind; she did not care and did not want to know. It did not matter to her. He never said a word while making love, he did not have to. His hands on her, his tongue on her, his body hot and eager, inflamed her more than any words he could have spoken.
Now, as they thrashed together on their creaking old springs and mattress in their new
Nina Croft
Antony Trew
Patricia Reilly Giff
Lewis Buzbee
Linda Lael Miller
A Daring Dilemma
Jory Strong
L.T. Ryan
Kelly Boyce
Nancy C. Johnson