away from his touch. "You look well." Inane.
"So do you. You're so beautiful it hurts." He raised his face to the ceiling. "I sound like an idiot. But it's true. You don't look any different."
"Yes. No different except for those fifteen years, huh?" Now she sounded angry. She mustn't let him know how she'd counted those years, how she'd pored over photographs of him in business journals, and over articles about his ventures.
"You're angry with me."
"No!" Yes. Yes, she was angry. She was insanely angry. He'd messed up her life.
"I don't blame you. You've got every right to be angry. Vengeful, even."
"I'm not angry. And I'm not vengeful. I'm not. . . anything anymore. I'm happy."
"Are you?"
"Yes. Yes, I am, of course I am. I'm doing things that matter to me. I'm making a difference, even if it's only small."
"Why aren't you married?"
"Not everyone wants to be married."
"You did. And I wanted to be."
"And you are," she reminded him, shifting in the seat, so desperate, so confused she couldn't sit still. "How's your wife? How many children do you have now?"
"Bliss—"
"No." She couldn't stand this, not for another instant. He overwhelmed her. And he shouldn't be here, had no right to walk in here. "I want you to go away. I don't know why you're here at all."
"Don't you?"
"No. Oh, no, no, I don't."
"I had to come."
"You didn't have to come before." She raised her chin. The
burning in her eyes didn't matter anymore, or the wetness on her cheeks. What he saw, what he thought, didn't matter anymore. "You left me without a word—except from your sister. And you never as much as sent me a note."
He came rapidly around the table. "You were hurting, Bliss."
"You're right. I was hurting. How could I not be hurting when I loved—" She massaged her brow—"I loved you. I was going to run away and marry you. God, I hate this. I never wanted you to see how you'd hurt me. How can you come back now? Why have you come back? Drat! It's unbelievable."
"I was trapped. I couldn't get out of it and I didn't want to make things worse by prolonging things for you."
Bliss shook her head. "Forget it. It's all been over forever now. I don't care anymore. I'm just crying out of some maudlin empathy for the person I used to be. It hurt then. It doesn't hurt anymore."
"It never stopped hurting for me."
She dropped her hands into her lap and stared at him. "How can you lie like that?"
"I'm not lying."
"No? Look at you." Didn't he know she could see his sexual reaction to what was happening between them? Passion, even passionate anger, turned him on. She flushed and her heart raced. "Sebastian Plato, success story. You've got it all, old friend. If you'd been upset about walking away from what we had, you'd have tried to let me know. You'd have tried to help me understand. And don't tell me you've lived with a broken heart for fifteen years and just now decided to come and tell me. I don't believe you."
"Of course you don't." He stood over her. His leg touched her knee. She felt him above her. She felt his heat. The sting of her own arousal disgusted and frightened her. He told her, "How do I make you believe I came back to Washington because of you?"
"Don't make me laugh!" She tilted back her head to see his
face. "What would make you think I'm the kind of fool who'd buy that drivel?"
"Oh, I know you're no fool, Dr. Winters."
He'd researched her pretty thoroughly.
"I went along thinking you must have a comfortable life with someone else," he said. "Then . . . Hell, I don't know what made me do it. I guess I got low enough, lonely enough—empty enough. I just started trying to find out what you'd done with yourself. I couldn't find any record of a marriage. I couldn't believe it. A woman like you never married?"
"Women—not all women need a man to make them feel complete."
"You do."
Bliss's vision blurred. She took off her glasses and set them down.
"I remember how you came alive with me. You loved me, Bliss. And I
"So do you. You're so beautiful it hurts." He raised his face to the ceiling. "I sound like an idiot. But it's true. You don't look any different."
"Yes. No different except for those fifteen years, huh?" Now she sounded angry. She mustn't let him know how she'd counted those years, how she'd pored over photographs of him in business journals, and over articles about his ventures.
"You're angry with me."
"No!" Yes. Yes, she was angry. She was insanely angry. He'd messed up her life.
"I don't blame you. You've got every right to be angry. Vengeful, even."
"I'm not angry. And I'm not vengeful. I'm not. . . anything anymore. I'm happy."
"Are you?"
"Yes. Yes, I am, of course I am. I'm doing things that matter to me. I'm making a difference, even if it's only small."
"Why aren't you married?"
"Not everyone wants to be married."
"You did. And I wanted to be."
"And you are," she reminded him, shifting in the seat, so desperate, so confused she couldn't sit still. "How's your wife? How many children do you have now?"
"Bliss—"
"No." She couldn't stand this, not for another instant. He overwhelmed her. And he shouldn't be here, had no right to walk in here. "I want you to go away. I don't know why you're here at all."
"Don't you?"
"No. Oh, no, no, I don't."
"I had to come."
"You didn't have to come before." She raised her chin. The
burning in her eyes didn't matter anymore, or the wetness on her cheeks. What he saw, what he thought, didn't matter anymore. "You left me without a word—except from your sister. And you never as much as sent me a note."
He came rapidly around the table. "You were hurting, Bliss."
"You're right. I was hurting. How could I not be hurting when I loved—" She massaged her brow—"I loved you. I was going to run away and marry you. God, I hate this. I never wanted you to see how you'd hurt me. How can you come back now? Why have you come back? Drat! It's unbelievable."
"I was trapped. I couldn't get out of it and I didn't want to make things worse by prolonging things for you."
Bliss shook her head. "Forget it. It's all been over forever now. I don't care anymore. I'm just crying out of some maudlin empathy for the person I used to be. It hurt then. It doesn't hurt anymore."
"It never stopped hurting for me."
She dropped her hands into her lap and stared at him. "How can you lie like that?"
"I'm not lying."
"No? Look at you." Didn't he know she could see his sexual reaction to what was happening between them? Passion, even passionate anger, turned him on. She flushed and her heart raced. "Sebastian Plato, success story. You've got it all, old friend. If you'd been upset about walking away from what we had, you'd have tried to let me know. You'd have tried to help me understand. And don't tell me you've lived with a broken heart for fifteen years and just now decided to come and tell me. I don't believe you."
"Of course you don't." He stood over her. His leg touched her knee. She felt him above her. She felt his heat. The sting of her own arousal disgusted and frightened her. He told her, "How do I make you believe I came back to Washington because of you?"
"Don't make me laugh!" She tilted back her head to see his
face. "What would make you think I'm the kind of fool who'd buy that drivel?"
"Oh, I know you're no fool, Dr. Winters."
He'd researched her pretty thoroughly.
"I went along thinking you must have a comfortable life with someone else," he said. "Then . . . Hell, I don't know what made me do it. I guess I got low enough, lonely enough—empty enough. I just started trying to find out what you'd done with yourself. I couldn't find any record of a marriage. I couldn't believe it. A woman like you never married?"
"Women—not all women need a man to make them feel complete."
"You do."
Bliss's vision blurred. She took off her glasses and set them down.
"I remember how you came alive with me. You loved me, Bliss. And I
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