When Summer Comes (22 page)

So she was right—it was best that he leave now, before whatever had started here grew any messier.

But his steps slowed as he reached the door. “Just tell me one thing.” She didn’t agree to do that, but he continued, anyway. “How does my name change any of the interaction we’ve had? I’m still the same man, regardless of what you call me.”

“Your
name
isn’t the problem,” she said.

“Then what is?”

“Does it matter?”

“I want to know.”

“Fine. I’m crazy about you, even though I shouldn’t be. And you hate that. Maybe you hate
me.
So move on, Whoever You Are. Be alone and make sure you stay alone. Have it your way.”

When she moved toward the bedroom, he told himself to let her go and walk out. Her words seemed to echo through the house.
Make sure you stay alone.
Was that how he wanted to live? Not really. He just hadn’t seen any other way to cope with the turmoil inside him, any other way to keep from hurting the people he cared about.

Suddenly, he didn’t know why it was so important that he not touch her. Behrukh seemed far away, part of another lifetime. She’d
died
because of him. How could he make what he’d done any worse?

“Callie.”

“Go.” She didn’t look back at him, but he could tell she was crying. Catching her before she could disappear into the bedroom and slam the door, he turned her around and drew her up against him. “I
do
hate you,” he murmured, “but only because I want you so much.”

He saw the confusion in her eyes, but he couldn’t explain something he didn’t understand himself. All he could do was try to forget the past. And losing himself in making love with her seemed to hold the most immediate promise.

* * *

Callie knew she was crossing a line she shouldn’t cross. Levi wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been completely forthcoming. What she’d held back was possibly worse. But she didn’t feel she needed to stop him from touching her long enough to bare her soul. One romantic interlude didn’t mean he’d be sticking around. Chances were he’d be gone by morning.

And she’d let him go, maybe even encourage him to leave sooner rather than later. She didn’t want to drag him through what was about to happen to her. She preferred to hang on to this memory, to treasure the next few minutes like a pretty seashell in her pocket, one she could take out and examine when she needed something to bolster her for the challenges ahead. Then she could smile, knowing he was out there on his motorcycle, driving God knew where, oblivious to her struggle.

“You feel exactly how I imagined you would,” he said as he slid his hands up her shirt. “You’re
so
soft. Everywhere.”

She grinned at him. “Just like you imagined? When did you imagine putting your hands on me?”

He smoothed the hair out of her face. “What do you think I’ve been dreaming about out there in the barn—or here on the couch?”

“It sounds like we’ve been having the same dream. But—” she wiped the rest of her tears away “—don’t worry, okay? About anything. You can leave tomorrow. No guilt.”

He stared at her. “What’d you say?”

“I’m telling you that I understand this doesn’t constitute a—a commitment. It’s not like I think...you know, that you’re falling in love with me...or that you’ll stay.” She laughed as if both of those possibilities would be too far-fetched to even consider. She actually hoped they were, for his sake. “The barn’s burned down. Nothing’s keeping you here.”

He frowned. “Do you mind if we enjoy this before you start saying goodbye?”

“Of course. No goodbyes. Not yet. We can save that for tomorrow. I just...I thought you’d want to be...reassured.”

“I don’t,” he said. “It makes me feel as if...I’m Kyle.”

“Excuse me?”

“A stand-in.”

Maybe she’d been a little
too
zealous in getting her point across. But she felt as if she had to do
something
to protect him, just in case he wasn’t as impervious to their attraction as he seemed. Setting up the right expectations would help. “You’re definitely not a stand-in,” she said. “You’re what I’ve been waiting for—a man who makes me weak in the knees just to look at him. But I’m not taking this seriously, so don’t let that spook you,” she quickly clarified.

“I’d really like you to stop talking,” he said, and that was okay because she’d been having a hard time
thinking
since he’d unfastened her bra.

“Right. No more talking.”

“That solves one problem.”

“We have another?”

“I’m covered in soot. Put on that sexy thing you bought from Victoria’s Secret while I have a shower.”

Was he really going to take time for a shower? “I was going to return that bustier.”

“No way. I’m not missing out. Give me five minutes,” he said, and pulled off his shirt as he headed to her bathroom.

* * *

Callie hadn’t been this nervous in years. She put Rifle in the yard and covered the broken window with cardboard. Then she donned the bustier and panties and covered them with a short, silky robe. She also smoothed lotion over her arms and legs and sprayed on some perfume. But by the time she heard the shower stop, she’d just about talked herself into calling off the whole thing. She was exploiting Levi’s ignorance when it came to her situation, and she had no right.

What do I do?
That question whirled through her head a million times. But when he emerged from the bathroom completely nude, hair wet and uncombed and curling slightly around his ears, she still had no answer—just a rush of hormones to contend with.

“You look a little unsure,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He caught on quickly.

“And you look even better than I expected,” she whispered.

When he grinned at her words, every nerve in her body tingled in anticipation. This was going to be the experience she’d long imagined, where she wanted to make love so badly she could hardly breathe. She had to take advantage of the opportunity, before she got too sick to feel desire, didn’t she? Liver disease could cause impotence in men; she was glad it hadn’t yet affected her libido. At least not on good days like today.

She managed to put up a hand before he could get too close. “Maybe...maybe we’re being foolish. We should think about this. I haven’t been making the best decisions of late.”

Considering his state of arousal, she was no longer worried about his ability to perform. Whatever had been holding him back certainly wasn’t physical. That was apparent.

He didn’t seem to hear her, didn’t acknowledge her halting words. “I admit that robe is pretty, but I’m far more interested in what’s underneath,” he said. “How about you take it off? Let me see you in that...whatever you call it.”

She edged around the foot of the bed. “Bustier.”

“That’s it.”

Tempted in spite of her reservations, she toyed with the ends of the belt. “Wouldn’t you like to...to talk about this first?”

“Haven’t I already made the answer to that question clear? What I’d like is to feel you against me.”

He continued to advance on her, but she backed away an equal number of steps. “You were hesitant,” she pointed out. “You didn’t want me.”

“Not true. It’s complicated. But I’m not holding back anymore.”

She swallowed hard. “You must’ve had a reason for holding back in the first place.”

“I don’t want to think about that.”

“You will later, whether you want to or not.”

“I’ll deal with it in my own time.”

“See? I’d feel terrible if you regretted it later. I prefer to imagine you happy as you drive off into the sunset—and to think that you’ll smile when you remember me.”

“How about you put a smile on my face right now?”

Obviously, he wasn’t picking up on everything she was saying. He could only concentrate on meeting the demands of his body, which made her doubly conscious of how she was misleading him. But maybe she was overthinking it. After all, he couldn’t be taking this too seriously. He hadn’t even told her his real name.

“What do I call you?” she asked.

He reached her and held her against the wall, hands at her waist, eyes on mouth. “What are you saying now?”

“Levi feels silly since I know it’s not your name.”

“It
is
my name.”

The feral gleam in his eyes gave her goose bumps. “Levi what?”

“Who cares?”

See? She had nothing to worry about. He wasn’t even willing to tell her his last name. He’d be gone by morning. “I guess no one,” she admitted.

“Are we done with the nervous jitters?”

“I think so.”

“Great. Let’s get rid of this,” he said, and tugged off her robe.

* * *

Callie’s mouth was hot and wet and parted just when Levi wanted it to. Behrukh hadn’t been able to kiss him with such abandon for months. She’d never kissed anyone else, and she was so frightened of what she was feeling, and of getting caught with him, that she’d resisted learning. He’d never forget how stilted and wooden she’d been when he first touched his lips to hers, how many times he’d had to kiss her before she grew warm and pliable and responsive. But he’d understood. She’d been told Americans were infidels, that he’d drag her down to hell if she even spoke to him. It was remarkable that they’d been able to overcome all that. It’d taken him months of stopping in at the store where she worked, of smiling at her until she’d at least meet his eyes, of flirting with her when her father was gone. And then it took several more months before he could convince her to meet him somewhere else so they could talk, touch. Kiss.

Ironically, now that she was gone, he missed all those early experiences as much as everything else about her.

The fact that Callie was nothing like Behrukh wasn’t as easy to overlook as he’d first thought. She was beautiful and sensuous and as pliable as Behrukh had been stiff and unyielding. But she smelled all wrong and moved all wrong. He didn’t want a substitute—he wanted to make love with the woman who owned his heart, with Behrukh. When he closed his eyes he could almost feel the swell of her belly beneath his hand, feel the excitement of knowing his baby grew in her womb.

But Behrukh was gone. So was their child. And he couldn’t seem to overcome the loss.

Unable to continue, he pulled back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I...can’t. I just...can’t.”

Callie was panting slightly as she looked up at him. “Did I do something that triggered a...a bad memory or—”

“It’s not you.” He closed his eyes as he stepped away from her and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “It’s me. I shouldn’t have started this.”

“Because...”

He met her gaze. “I’m in love with someone else, Callie.”

She flinched as if he’d slapped her, and he cursed his own stupidity. He should’ve told her before, but there’d seemed so little point in talking about a woman who no longer existed. He’d thought he could finally get beyond the past.

Just seconds ago, he’d been determined to do so.

But he couldn’t persuade his heart to betray Behrukh, not even her memory.

“I see.” Callie smiled, but he could tell by the emptiness in her eyes that her pleasant expression was a front. “I understand. To be faithful to someone...that’s an admirable thing.”

She scrambled to reclaim her robe as though she was suddenly embarrassed to let him see her without it, and he regretted that he couldn’t make her feel as attractive as she was.

“I support you one hundred percent,” she added, filling the silence as she jammed her arms through the sleeves and averted her gaze. He was still naked, but he didn’t care about that. He
wanted
to be naked. He wanted to make love. He wanted to find himself again. But it was impossible. He couldn’t overcome the resistance in his heart and his head.

“I didn’t know or...I wouldn’t have...bought this,” she was saying. “I feel silly, of course.”

He couldn’t move. Even now he was torn between touching her and just getting the hell out, before he made matters worse. “Don’t feel silly. It’s me, like I said. And it’s not that I’m cheating. The situation isn’t what you think.”

She chuckled without mirth. “
I
don’t even know what I think! I mean, you’re not gay—”

“No!” He shook his head. “This isn’t history repeating itself. What your intuition’s been telling you—that I’m attracted to you, that I want you—it’s true. If only I’d met you before.”

“You’re really in love.”

“Yes.”

“So...why aren’t you with her? Is she married or—”

He cursed as the memories began to pile up. “She’s dead, Callie.”

It felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of him, but Levi cared enough about this new person in his life to want to offer
some
explanation.

Her jaw dropped. “How?”

“I met her in Afghanistan.”

“She was in the army?”

“No. She was a civilian. Her father pretended to be friendly to Americans because he wanted our business. He owned a little grocery store. I actually thought he liked me.” He grimaced as the bitterness threatened to overwhelm him. “But he was secretly aligned with the insurgents. Someone in her extended family—her brothers wouldn’t tell me who for fear of reprisal—shot her in the head when she admitted that she was carrying my child. They said she’d defiled herself by lying with a filthy American. I wanted to bring her home with me, wanted to marry her, but...her father didn’t care.”

He hadn’t told anyone about Behrukh. He shouldn’t have told Callie, either, because now he couldn’t look her in the eye. It had been a mistake to touch Behrukh. And it had been a mistake to touch Callie. But she was the best thing to happen to him since Afghanistan. For the first time in months, he’d felt human—instead of like some kind of robot, just going through the motions of living.

It was time to get out of her life before he hurt her, too. But he couldn’t leave her vulnerable to Denny. First, he had to know she’d be safe.

“I’ll start cleaning up the mess in the barn.”

He was exhausted after being up all night, but he wanted to get away from her, needed the escape.