Sharing Sunrise Read online

  He stared at her. Did he want her to take the tiller? He almost asked, what tiller, but remembered just in time that they were aboard Sunrise VII navigating through the narrow waterways between islands. Damn, but she had him rattled, and so hard he didn’t think he could walk to get the hell out of that cabin, but a glance out a porthole showed him steep green shores close to port. She was right; they were sailing in waters too confined for safely conducting an argument or discussion or a crazy, impossible seduction like this below decks, yet he stared at her for another few moments, wondering if there were words in his vocabulary to explain to her exactly what she made him feel. There were not. There weren’t even words in his vocabulary to explain to himself exactly what he felt, so he turned and went back to the cockpit. There, he sat at the tiller, keeping a watch all around while trying not to let his eyes wander to Marian’s upright, flame-haired figure, seated again at the galley table, turning the pages of a romance novel as if the world weren’t going as nuts for her as it was for him.

  I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. Marian repeated the words to herself like a mantra, staring at the pages of the book, forcing herself to turn them at intervals, to give the appearance of reading. But the tears she fought stung and burned until she knew she couldn’t defeat them. Crawling into the berth in the bow, she rolled to her front and hugged a pillow, letting them ooze out but they brought no relief from the stinging and burning inside her.

  She had done it again. She had flung herself at a man, told him how she felt about him, all but begged him for his love, and watched him turn and walk away. At least from Rolph she’d expected the sensitivity and compassion she hadn’t got from her ex-husband, not a blank-eyed, shocked stare, not a slow shaking of his head and those halting, awkward steps back before he turned and left her. Sure, she had told him to go, told him to take the time to think about what she’d said, but she’d seen in his eyes what he already left her, already done what thinking he’d needed to do. He didn’t require any time to consider what amounted to a proposition; he’d made up his mind.

  Their dances, their closeness, the undeniable physical response so evident Friday night had been what he’d said, a result of ambiance and wine—at least on his part. Maybe he’d simply been rehearsing in case the real thing came his way.

  Only, she hadn’t. The real thing for her was very much present in her life, whether her wanted to know about it or not. He’d been wrong in his assessment of what she felt that night, but that was fair, wasn’t it?

  Obviously, she’d been wrong about what he felt.

  And today? Those kisses out there where he now sat alone? What had that been about? That hadn’t been any kind of pretence, not on her part, and not on his. It had been real, and wonderful, and left her yearning for more. Yet, he had pushed her away. No. No, that wasn’t right. He had held her, stroked her with a trembling hand, until the freighter made itself known, and then pushed her away, but he’d done it gently, reluctantly, as if it hurt him to let her go.

  Then, when he came into the cabin, what had he said? I want you. And it was true. She knew that, just as she knew that he hated the idea of wanting her. What she didn’t understand was why he hated it. And that was what hurt so much, not just that he’d walked away, but that he’d walked away still wanting her. It meant that there was something of far greater importance than what she might mean to him.

  She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, and only vaguely aware of the sound of the anchor chain letting out, but when Rolph touched the back of her right knee with his fingertips, she was instantly, totally aware.

  She rolled over and sat up. “Are we in Seattle already?”

  “No.” His face was drawn and pale. “We aren’t going to Seattle.”

  “Why?”

  He touched her cheek with a finger, slowly, moving from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth, pausing there. “You’ve been crying.”

  She blinked. “We’re not going to Seattle because I’ve been crying?”

  He smiled slowly, acknowledging her weak joke. His caressing finger trailed down over her chin to the soft skin of her throat, then followed the loose neck of the T-shirt around to one side. There, he slid all his fingers just inside the ribbing, spreading his hand, curving it over her shoulder. “We aren’t going to Seattle because there’s something happening between us that we have to deal with before we can go anywhere at all. So we’re anchored in a sheltered little cove big enough for only one boat. Why were you crying?”

  She wanted to shrug his hand off but it felt so warm and strong on her skin, so sensuously rough and male, she left it there. She thought of making something up about those having been tears of anger, but knew there was no point in trying to lie to Rolph. He knew her too well. He could see right into her soul. Especially now, especially after she’d opened her heart to him. So she told him the truth, as painful as it was, but she tried to sound amused, almost indifferent.

  “Because I was stupid.” She smiled crookedly. “I hate being stupid. It makes me feel … stupid.” She glanced out the porthole rather than look at him, at the compassion in his eyes. What if it turned to pity? Dammit, she’d hate that as much as she disliked feeling like an idiot.

  She changed the subject. “Judging by the huge Canadian flag flying over the house on that bluff over there, we’re not in Puget Sound.”

  His other hand clamped onto her other shoulder, turning her to face him. “My,” he said, shaking her slightly. “How perceptive. I should have had you on deck to navigate.” He frowned. “What do you mean, you were stupid?”

  She drew in a deep breath and shrugged. “Like you pointed out, a woman doesn’t just up and say something like that to a guy. Not unless she’s pretty sure he’s interested in more than a few casual kisses. I said it and you weren’t and I feel like a fool.”

  He drew her hard against his chest, wrapping his arms around her, and rocked her back and forth for several moments, then thrust her back, still holding her, this time by the upper arms. “Dammit,” he said huskily, “you’re throwing guilt at me like mud! I didn’t say I didn’t want you. I said I did. Do.”

  Tears stung her eyes but she refused to allow them out. Tilting her chin up, she said, “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m sorry you do. I don’t want you to. Yes, I know you said you want me, but still, you walked away.”

  His throat worked as he swallowed. He closed his eyes briefly as his fingers tightened on her arms. “Right now, Marian,” he said, opening his eyes and staring into her eyes, his chin jutting with a stubborn streak she’d almost forgotten was characteristic of him, “right now, there is nothing I want more than I want you, just the way you said, naked, together, me inside you, you surrounding me, taking what I want to give you, giving what I want to take.” His voice shook with the intensity of his emotions. “I want you so bad I can’t think straight. I’m trying to be sensible, though, trying not to make a big mistake that will hurt not only us, but the people we care about, too, our families, who have been friends for years. What happens if you and I get together for a while and then blow it, baby? It would make their friendship, the joint celebrations we’ve always enjoyed, awkward, to say the least. What happens if this is as wrong as I fear it is? That’s why we have to talk it through, make sure what we both want is right for both of us.”

  Her throat ached. She wanted so badly to believe that he really did want her, she didn’t think she could stand anymore of this analysis he seemed so intent on. She wanted him. He wanted her. So what was to talk about? Yet he still had that obdurate expression on his face, the one that told her the discussion would continue for as long as he needed it to.

  Locking her hands around his wrists, she said, “Why shouldn’t it be right for both of us? What could possibly be wrong with it?”

  “Different … goals, for one thing.” He drew her closer, lifted his hands—and hers, which still clung to his wrists—to her neck, threading his fingers into her curls. She sli
d her hands to his elbows, loving the feel of the bulky muscles, the rough, masculine hair on his arms. There was something undeniably sexy about Rolph McKenzie’s arms. And his ears. Probably his toes, too, but there was too much else to concentrate on right now. She’d think about all that later.

  “I want a woman who is with me all the time, Marian. I want a permanent partnership. I told you that. A commitment, baby. House, yard, rosebushes, kids, the works, things you don’t want.”

  She met his sober gaze. “But I do. I want that too. I know I’ve always said I didn’t, but I’ve changed, Rolph. When I said that, it was because I felt so shut out of my parents’ lives. They’ve always been so—connected. Together. I never felt there was room for me. So I learned to be independent. I thought it was best that way. Best for me. I didn’t want to have children who’d grow up the way I did, feeling lost and lonely and outside the magic circle. I thought it would be better not to grow up if that was what it meant I’d have to do.” She tried to smile, but only managed a crooked tilting of her mouth.

  “Whether I liked it or not, though, I did grown up. And now I want things I never thought I’d want.”

  He pulled her tightly against him, enfolding her in his arms. “Ah, sweetheart, yes, now you say you want that, you might even think it’s true, but what about six months from now? A year from now? Even five years from now? I don’t think that is what you want, not in the long term. Your track record tells me that no matter what you say now, you’re going to change your mind again. And likely again after that.”

  She pushed herself free of his embrace. “My track record? In three weeks you expect me to have established a track record?”

  “Not three weeks. Your whole life. Remember, I’ve known you, watched you and all your changes since your were three years old. And yes, you’ve grown up, but your basic character hasn’t changed, Marian. You’re still as capricious, as variable as the winds, with mercurial moods, fleeting thoughts and ideas that light your eyes or darken them. Sometimes you’re completely down-to-earth and other times you float like a random cloud. That’s such a large part of your charm, it’s what makes you an interesting, fascinating woman, and I’d hate to have you change. But it does not make you suitable for a guy who wants only to settle down. You’d be bored with a staid, sober businessman. You’d be desperately unhappy because you’re such a warm and sensitive person you wouldn’t want to hurt him—me—by leaving, but your history tells me that you would leave. You’d have to.”

  “What? Why would I have to? And assuming you’re right, and I found, several years from now that I still wanted to travel, lots of people do. Couples travel together, they travel with their kids, they—”

  “No,” he said, laying two fingers over her lips. “I’m not talking about vacations in Disneyland. Let me finish, okay, because I’m talking about a way of life, your way of life. Look at it, at the way it’s been, full of different scenes, different places and faces, different circumstances. I can’t see you giving up all that and being happy. Not forever. You’ve flitted from school to school, from job to job, from business to business.” He hesitated briefly. “A six-week marriage. Honey, you haven’t exactly proven yourself responsible. In fact, you’ve proven just the opposite, so for the two of us, I have to be the responsible one. I have to try to keep a cool head, to think things through before taking any irreversible—and irrational—steps. There always has to be one person in each relationship who does that.”

  She jumped to her feet, planted her hands on the overhead coaming to balance herself against the gentle bobbing of the boat and said, “Excuse me, but when it came to my marriage, I was the responsible one! I was the one who tried to make it work! I was the one who went through hell when it was breaking up.” Her voice broke.

  “Marian, don’t. Don’t talk about it. I’m sure you tried as hard as you could, but what depth can there have been to your commitment if you only tried for a few weeks?”

  “You don’t know a damned thing about it, Rolph McKenzie! Well, maybe that’s my fault because I’ve refused to talk about it. So fine, listen then, and I’ll give you the gory details!”

  “No.” Her marriage, as brief as it had been, was the last thing he wanted her to talk about. It made his insides crawl even to think of it. “I don’t need to know about it,” he said harshly. “I don’t want to know about it. A marriage that lasted a month and a half doesn’t even merit discussion!”

  “Oh yes it does! And you’re the one who brought it up. You’re the one who called me irresponsible because of its short duration. What you don’t know is that I did work at it! I tried to save it! I would have done anything to save it. I did everything. Even after I knew Wendell didn’t love me, didn’t even want me once he knew I wasn’t a good meal ticket, I tried to work things out, because that was what was right. I begged him to go to a marriage counselor with me and when he refused, I went on my own, searching for ways I could change to make myself right for him.”

  A spasm of pain crossed her face as she looked into a past that held frustration and anguish Rolph was only beginning to suspect. “Meal ticket?” he asked hollowly.

  “Yes. That was what I was to him, but I didn’t know it. I was stupidly, naively convinced a man couldn’t fake those kinds of feelings. I believed that since he wanted me physically, he must also love me and when he asked me to marry him, it never occurred to me that he wanted me for something other than my so-called beautiful body and the love I thought we shared. Then, when mom and dad cut off my allowance, Wendell told me the rules. A guy could get just as horny over a fat bankbook as he could over a cute tush, and it was my bankbook he’d really loved.”

  She pulled a wry face. “I didn’t believe him. I stripped naked, both physically and … emotionally. I spread my innermost feelings, my hopes and dreams, all over the place along with my clothes. The only thing I bared that stirred him in the least was my body; that, he couldn’t hide, but he still managed to walk away leaving me feeling humiliated and cheap and unworthy.” She fixed him with a straight gaze. “And stupid. The way I felt when you rejected me. I know you want me, but I know, too, that there’s something else you want more. With him, it was money. With you, I don’t know what it is.”

  Guilt was a physical pain in him. “I wasn’t rejecting you. If you’re equating that scene with Wendell with what just happened between us, then stop. There is no comparison.”

  “No? I think there is. I threw myself at a man who was forced to decline, just as I did with Wendell, but then I could be excused due to lack of experience and extreme youth. So I was pretty stupid, setting myself up for that again, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Marian—” he began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

  “I may be stupid. I may still lack judgment, but I am not irresponsible when it comes to my relationships. I never have been, so you have no right to call me capricious and irresponsible and inconstant because my marriage failed after only six weeks. You weren’t there, Rolph. You have no way of knowing what it was like for me and it’s grossly unfair of you to judge me.”

  “You’re right, and I apologize.”

  She stared. “What?”

  “I said, you’re right and I apologize. But I still think that in our relationship, I’m going to have to be the one to take responsibility, to make … sensible decisions.” He looked into her questioning eyes. “To cool things when they get overheated because it would be wrong for us to go ahead with it until we’re certain it’s going to work. For all time.”

  “You’re asking for promises.”

  He looked at her. “Yes. I guess I am. And you can’t make promises, can you?”

  She thought about it, bit her lip. “What I can promise is that I will never, ever, set out to hurt you. I can promise that I believe right now, with all my heart, that you are what I want. I can promise that if I ever do, as you believe I will, want to go away again, I’ll come back to you. That is,” she added in a rough whisper, “if you r
efuse to come with me when I go.”

  He was silent for a long time. When he spoke, there was grief in his voice. “I don’t know if that’s good enough, Marian.”

  She turned from him, from the pain in his face. Hot tears squeezed past her tightly shut lids. “And so you won’t take a chance on me because I might, someday, want to do something else, be somewhere else, even temporarily?”

  He caught her hand and pulled her back, seating her on the berth beside him. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying I think we should exercise a little … caution here, Marian. Lord knows I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t want you to hurt me, either, and I don’t want our relationship to give our families any pain. The potential for any of that is so great it scares me to death.”

  She glared, tension radiating from her body, her chin high, color staining her face, her eyes filled with anger. She’d have flown had he not held her with both hands on her arms. “Rolph, dammit, life doesn’t come with guarantees!”

  He stared at her, knowing she was right, but knowing, too, that from her he wanted guarantees, promises, assurances. That she wasn’t giving them only showed him how right he was to be wary of this building desire between them. He’d known all along that she didn’t give him the promises he wanted because she couldn’t. She truly did not know what the future held.

  Yet, a small part of him kept asking, what if she had changed? What if she could be as constant and faithful as he needed a woman to be? What if her feelings for him were as strong as his for her, or could become so? She claimed to want a commitment. God, but he wanted to believe that! Why was it so hard to believe?

  Was this the love he’d been searching for? Had he found it in Marian? If he didn’t reach out now and take it, was he at risk of throwing away everything he’d ever dreamed of? Merely because he had doubts? Didn’t every lover have doubts?

  “How sure of this are you?” he asked finally, searching her eyes for the truth. “About what you feel for me.”