Nathan's Vow (8 page)

Gillian's body relaxed somewhat and
she attempted to pedal.  "Just keep pedaling.  Feel the way the water
holds up your body.  As long as you keep your legs moving, you can stay near
the top."  He slowly worked his way into deeper water.  "Now, I'm
going to let go--just use your arms to push the water away in front of you. 
I'll be right here to catch you if it doesn't work."

"Let go?"  Without
thinking, she stopped the leg movements and began to go under.

Nathan immediately grabbed her
around the waist and held tight.  "You're fine.  Hold onto me."

Gillian's arms linked around his
neck and she held on as if her life were in danger.  She might be in more
danger in his arms than in the water.  The press of her against him created a
swirl of desire that almost made his arms weak.  But they couldn't be weak
because they were holding Gillian.  He wouldn't drop her.  He wouldn't give her
a reason not to trust him.

Her knee brushed him, and he sucked
in a breath.  Working his way through the water to the shallow end, he gently
set her on the steps.  She clung for a moment then took her arms from around
his neck.

Nathan hadn't let anything happen
to her.  Her own fear had made her sink.  As he sat beside her, she scanned his
long arms, his powerful legs.  The sight of him in black, shiny trunks was
plenty of incentive for her heart to triple its rhythm, let alone holding onto
him as if he were a life preserver.  When dressed, he was handsome.  With next
to nothing covering him, Nathan's sex appeal was overwhelming.

Holding his hands was one thing,
holding onto him when they could both feel every curve and plane beneath their
suits was another.  She was trembling and she wasn't sure it was from almost
sinking under the water.

"Gillian?  Are you all right?"

She stared at his chest, the line
of hair down the middle.  "I'm fine.  I just feel a little foolish."

"There's nothing to feel
foolish about.  Fear is very real.  But so is the buoyancy of water.  If you're
in it long enough, you'll get comfortable.  Give it some time."

Taking a deep breath, she stared up
at the black velvet sky.

Following her gaze, he said,
"When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut.  I guess I thought if I
could fly past the stars, all my problems would go away."

The night all around them, the
shimmering glow of the underwater lights, seemed to make sharing confidences
possible.  "The sky has always held a fascination for me," she
confessed softly.  "The clouds, the moon in all its phases, but especially
the stars.  As a child, I remember looking out my bedroom window and thinking
if I could just reach up and grab a star, somehow capture the light and keep it
with me, I'd understand why I was different from everyone else, why I saw
pictures no one else saw.  It was a silly thought, but it made sense at the
time."

"And now?"

His voice drew her as the starlight
once had.  "Now, I know I'll never understand the stars, the moon, the
universe, why I'm different."

"Not different. 
Special."

When she looked at Nathan, fire
leapt in his eyes and she caught her breath.  The moment held too much intimacy
for her to bear.  In such a short time, he had come to mean too much.  She
forced herself to remember his daughters, his ex-wife.  Breaking eye contact,
she wrapped her arms around herself.  "I'm getting chilled.  I think I'll
go in."

He watched her hands on her arms. 
"Maybe we can try again tomorrow."

"Maybe.  But you don't have to
devote your time to me.  If there are things you want to do--"

"Some work, but mostly I try
to unwind on Sundays."

"I usually go to church."

He studied her then offered,
"I can take you if you'd like."

"I don't know the churches in
your area very well.  It might be better if I stay here and see what I can pick
up about the girls."  Standing, she made her way up the steps and dried
off with one of the towels on the table.  "Thank you for the lesson."

He didn't follow her out of the
water.  "If you'd like a snack before turning in--"

Quickly, she shrugged into her
cover-up.  "No.  I'm fine.  I'll see you in the morning."

Nathan nodded.

Gillian let herself inside the
sliding doors.  When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Nathan swimming
vigorously.

His long strokes took him across
the pool in no time.  He turned and swam back.  She was so tempted to stay and
watch.  But this time she knew better than to give in to temptation.

#

While Nathan showered the next
morning, he thought of Gillian.  It was becoming a habit.  The laps he'd swum
last night hadn't helped a bit--the rush of desire he'd felt when she'd walked onto
the patio had lingered even in his dreams.  His heightened awareness of her was
unsettling.  And he didn't think it was all one-sided.  Now and then, he'd
catch a glimpse of the same desire he felt in her huge brown eyes.  She'd turn
away or change the subject, but it was there, mounting, growing stronger and
stronger.

Toweling off, he wondered if she
was up yet, if she felt uncomfortable being under the same roof with him when
the attraction between them was so strong.  He couldn't shake the picture of
her standing at the edge of the pool, towel in hand, her suit wet, clinging to
her.  You've been without a woman for too long, he told himself.  When he found
Maddie and Dana, he'd forget Gillian Moore had even been in his house, let
alone his pool.

He pulled on a worn green T-shirt
and a pair of black shorts.  Maybe it would help Gillian to go through the
stack of memorabilia he'd collected over the years--cards the girls had given
him, drawings, Dana's reports from pre-school.  While Gillian did that, he
could work on evaluating a client's security needs.

Nathan peeked in the door to the
girls' room.  No Gillian.  She wasn't anywhere on the first floor, either.  He
opened the  door onto the patio and stepped outside.  Seeing a flash of violet
along the west line, he walked toward it.

He stopped when he saw exactly
where Gillian was sitting.  If he'd had any doubt about her intuition before,
it vanished completely as he walked toward her.  She was sitting in the low V
of a sycamore, facing the valley of rock formations behind his property.

"Gillian?"

She twisted around, then stood in
the tree, bracing herself on a branch.  "I came out for a walk and
felt...drawn here.  Dana's very angry with you."

"Why?"

"Because you haven't come to
see her."

Gillian's words tightened his
chest.  "I wish she knew I was trying.  Do you know what Leona's telling
her?"

"No.  Was Dana angry with you
after the divorce?"

"Not that I know of.  She and
Maddie saw me more after Leona and I separated than before."

Gillian stared above his head into
the distance.  "The feelings are strong.  Too strong to be very old."

"But no place?"

She met his gaze.  "No
place."

As Gillian stepped to the ground,
Nathan propped against the tree trunk.  "This was Dana's special spot. 
She came out here when she was unhappy, if Leona or I scolded her, when she
wanted to get away from Maddie hanging onto her."

Gillian brushed the bark from her
hands.  "You lived here with Leona and the girls?"

"Yes.  Leona moved out when we
separated.  She bought a home in Beverly Hills.  Arthur had set up a trust fund
that kicked in when she was eighteen.  Money will never be one of her
concerns."

"But it was one of
yours."

He felt invaded again.  Gillian
could read him too well.  Or was she using her "gift?" 
"Intuition or clairvoyance?"

She shrugged.  "They're not
much different."

To him they were.  "I forgot. 
You said you can't read people's minds."

"I just got the sense that
Leona's lack of dependence on you troubled you," Gillian responded softly.

She was right on the mark.  After a
stretch of silence, he admitted, "I wouldn't let her use her money for us,
for the girls.  I wanted to provide.  She agreed to live that way when we were
engaged.  Ultimately, my need to make us independent from Arthur is what broke up
our marriage.  Yet I couldn't have done it any other way."

As Gillian passed no judgment on
him, his mind slipped from old history to the present moment.  Her violet
blouse and shorts enhanced the fairness of her skin and the blond in her hair. 
She wore no makeup.  Her hair was fluffy as if just washed, and he could
vaguely smell a delicate shampoo.

The sun shining on the grass still
sparkling with dew released the earthy smell of near-summer.  But all his
senses focused on Gillian.  She was as immobile as he was, caught up in the
energy zipping between them.

Breaking the spell, he asked,
"Would you like bacon and eggs or pancakes for breakfast?"

A small sigh of either
disappointment or relief escaped.  "What about pancakes and bacon?"

"That's not a problem if you
watch one or the other."

"I'll take the bacon. 
Flipping pancakes isn't my forte."

He pushed himself away from the
tree trunk and tried to keep his thoughts on breakfast.  "The girls and I
always tried to break the record on how high we could flip them."

"Did you ever drop any?"

Remembering breakfasts with Dana
and Maddie, he chuckled.  "Often."  By mutual consent he and Gillian
walked toward the pool.  "Gillian, I have a box of items the girls sent
me, gifts they made and things they accomplished.  Would you like to go through
it?"

"It would probably be a good
idea.  But I'd like to do it by myself, if you don't mind."

He could feel the distance she was
trying to put between them, but whether it was to maximize her psychic
abilities or for personal reasons, he didn't know.  "I have work to
finish."

She glanced at him.  "IT
security sounds complicated."

"I've been working on security
for two clients who are planning to merge their companies. They want me to go
ahead with the proposal before it happens."

"You like the work you
do."

She'd read him correctly once
more.  "Most of the time."  When they reached the gate leading to the
pool, Nathan stopped.  "Is there anything you're not telling me about the
girls...or Leona?  Anything you think I might not want to know?"

Gillian looked more puzzled than
offended.  "No.  Why do you ask?"

"Because you haven't mentioned
Leona.  You've picked up something from Maddie, Dana and Arthur.  It seems a
little strange you haven't mentioned her."

"There's nothing to mention. 
I'm telling you what I receive, when I receive it."  His expression must
have shown his frustration because she laid her hand on his arm.  "I know
this is difficult, Nathan.  But we've only been at it a few days."

A few days.  It seemed impossible
he hadn't known Gillian longer than that.  Because on some level, he felt
closer to her than he'd ever felt to Leona.  Life was strange.

#

Sitting on the patio, Gillian
opened the Father's Day card hand-made by Maddie and Dana.  Turning over the
envelope, she read the postmark.  Last year.  Leona must have mailed the card
for the girls.  Had she been planning to spirit them away even then?  Nathan
had said his desire for joint custody had spooked her.  Was he right?

Thoughts of Leona, pictures of her,
brought only static.  Gillian couldn't get a good sense of the woman.  She
could feel that Maddie was a vivacious, happy child.  Dana emanated a more
thoughtful nature.  With Arthur Carrero, Gillian had felt a distant coldness
surrounding him.  But Leona...Gillian felt, sensed, and saw nothing.

The glass doors behind her opened. 
She'd been sorting through the small carton of drawings, Maddie's handprint in
fingerpaint, Dana's progress reports from pre-school.  As she sat up straighter
in her chair, the pile of memorabilia on her lap tilted.  Before she could
anchor the stack, it toppled.

Nathan reached the papers the same
time Gillian did.  Their hands touched, and the energy she'd tried to ignore
swirled around her until she was almost dizzy from its potency.  She couldn't
pull away this time and didn't want to.  Nathan's physical appeal, his nature,
his love for his daughters called out to everything womanly inside her.  She
yearned to answer that call.

The remaining memorabilia fell from
her lap as he drew her out of the chair and into his arms.

"I'm tired of fighting
this," he murmured.  His lips caught hers and their eager passion was too
tempting, too magnetic, too necessary to refuse.  Their first kiss had been
deep and intense.  This one exploded into want and heat and demand that defied
time and place and reason.

His tongue dashed between her lips,
sweeping, stroking, searching for her response.  Tightening his arms around
her, he caressed her back in ever-widening circles.  Gillian linked her arms
around his neck and slid her fingers into his hair. He groaned, tore his mouth
away and said, "Kiss me back."

Simply the words excited her.  The
hunger in his blue eyes before he bent his head again drove away everything but
his scent, his texture, and his need.  His need became hers as she nibbled his
lower lip and tentatively tasted him with her tongue.  He drew her deeper,
leading her into his desire, coaxing her to give as well as take.  She brushed
her tongue against his and when he shuddered, she did it again.

His hands lowered to her waist and
cupped her bottom, drawing her even closer.  His arousal was hard against her. 
Instinctively, she moved, and his low growl made her tremble.  Brian had never
encouraged her to take the initiative.  He'd never encouraged her to...

Brian.  His reconciliation with his
ex-wife.  Loss.  Heartache.

Gillian tore away from Nathan,
gulping in a deep breath.  She couldn't do this.  She couldn't let this
happen.  Not again.