Within Reach (27 page)

“Sounds heavenly.” Turning, she slid her arms around his neck. Darkness was quickly falling, cloaking the real world, though not enough. “But too short. I can’t believe where the summer’s gone. It’s been wonderful.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” he asked. His fingers moved along the base of her spine, itching to climb higher. “When do you have to be back?”

“I told Blake I’d be in Boston a week after Labor Day.” Religiously she talked to him on the phone every Sunday, but they had little to say of import. She wasn’t interested in his doings in Washington any more than he was interested in what she was doing in Maine. He made no mention of flying up, and she was grateful. She felt estranged from him, physically and emotionally, and if he felt it, too, he didn’t seem to care. “Thirteen days and counting. Reluctantly. When do you start in Cambridge?”

“The middle of the month. I’ll be going down for orientation before classes actually start.”

“You’ll be staying overnight?”

“Only at the start. I’ve taken a room at the Hyatt. It’s on—”

“Memorial Drive. I know where it is. It’s not far from me.” Hearing her own words, she was stunned. He was going to be so close, so
close
. She tried to picture the room he would have overlooking the Charles, but all she could see was a large, empty bed. When her knees grew weak, she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and pressed her face to his throat. She felt so torn, so torn.

Michael crushed her even closer. His arms crisscrossed her back, fingers reaching the soft side swells of her breasts. “I don’t know if I should tell you to think it or not to think it,” he moaned. “We have to do something, Dani. We have to do
something
.” The torment had been getting worse, the agony of wanting her, needing her, and not having her in every sense.

“I know,” she murmured brokenly. “I wish I knew what to do.”

“Just kiss me, then,” he rasped, lowering his head and taking her mouth with the hunger that boiled from inside. Her hunger matched it, and she held nothing back, offering her lips, her tongue, her breath in the fevered exchange. Her body arched toward him, and when he unwrapped his arms and inched his hands to her breasts, a small, catlike purr slipped from her throat.

He had never touched her there, but she had imagined it many, many times. His hands caressed her and she grew fuller beneath his nurturing.

“So beautiful,” he murmured hoarsely, his forehead against hers. When he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, they grew even more taut. She whimpered softly, unable to draw away because she loved what he was doing, but knowing that he had to stop.

“Thirteen days, Dani. That’s all we have.”

“I know, I know.”

“I want you, sweetheart.”

I want you, too
, she thought. But she also thought of Boston and Blake and all else she would be returning to when those thirteen short days were done.

Michael spread his palms over her breasts, memorizing their very feminine shape for a final moment before slowly lowering his hands to her waist. He was breathing heavily. He knew that his shorts did little to hide his hardness, knew that she had to feel him with their hips pressed together that way. He could feel her warmth, could imagine her moistness. He also knew that she still wasn’t ready in the emotional sense that would make it all okay the morning after.

“I had better get you home,” he whispered. She nodded, though she was loath to move. “I don’t know how much control I’ll have if we stay here much longer. I’ve ached to touch you this way, but it only makes me want more.”

Again she nodded, but this time she moved back. Chin tucked to her chest, hands clasped tightly before her, she was the image of misery. “I don’t know what to do,” she breathed so softly that he wouldn’t have heard it had he not been so close.

He felt her misery, her confusion, tenfold because he wanted answers but had none. “We have time, sweetheart,” he said at last.

Her head flew up, eyes wide. “Thirteen days. That’s all. Thirteen days.”

But he was shaking his head. “We have more. We have weeks, months. The situation isn’t simple. We can’t put a time limit on it.”

“But it could go on forever!” she cried, hugging herself in place of him.

Again he was shaking his head. “It won’t. When the time is right, something will give. You’ll know it when it happens. Either way.”

Later, long after Michael had walked Danica home, he was thinking of what he had said. The summer had brought them even closer. She was so totally a part of his life that he couldn’t bear the thought of it otherwise. Yet, she could, indeed, go either way. She could go back to Boston and realize what he already had, that they were made for each other, that their life together would be unimaginably sweet. She could also go back to Boston and, for reasons beyond his control, decide that she had to stay with Blake.

He couldn’t force the issue mainly because he was afraid of the outcome. He knew that she loved him, knew that she had little left with Blake. He also knew that though the bonds tying her to Blake were fraying, they remained strong.

In the final analysis, he wanted her to be happy. If that meant a reconciliation between Blake and her, he would have to accept it. In the meanwhile, all he could do was to wait and hope and do everything he could to make the time they had together very special.

Wandering out onto the deck late that night, he thought about the last. His eye caught on the horizon, which was dark and without the lights that would mark the passing of a boat. He recalled the handsome cruiser they had seen earlier, recalled her dreams, her wistfulness.

It was then that inspiration hit.

eleven

e
ARLY THE NEXT MORNING MICHAEL RACED into town, where he found that the fates were very definitely on his side. Not only could he rent a cabin cruiser like the one Danica had dreamed on the night before, but the very
one
was a rental, being returned that same morning. Paying the full price in advance, he made the arrangements, then dashed back to Danica’s house.

“Guess what!” he exclaimed, beaming proudly as he presented himself at her door.

She smiled, adoring the boyish way he looked when he couldn’t contain his excitement. There was always something new with him. She knew he would make life exhilarating to say the least. “What?”

“It’s ours.”

“What is?”

“The boat.”

“
What
boat?”

“The one we saw last night.”

Her eyes grew round. “
That
boat? What do you mean, ‘it’s ours’?”

“I’ve just rented it for the weekend.”

“You’re kidding. No, you’re not. Michael, I don’t believe it!”

“Are you pleased?”

“You know I am! For the weekend? It’s
ours
?”

He shrugged, but he was grinning. “Unless you’d rather just go to a movie or something.”

“No way!” She pressed her hands together. “Oh, Lord, this is wild. I’ll have to…have I got…what do I wear on a boat?”

“You’ve never
been
on one before?”

“Different. Very different. High heels and cocktail dress type thing.” She glowed. “This will be so much better!”

Her excitement alone made it all worthwhile. “You can wear whatever you want. The more comfortable, the better.” He paused. “I could have taken it for today and tomorrow, but it was just coming in this morning and the owner wanted to clean it up. Besides, these being weekdays and all, I figured you’d want to work.”

Danica shook her head in continued amazement, both that he had actually rented the boat and that he respected her work enough to plan around it. Not that she wouldn’t have dropped everything to go on that boat with Michael.…

“I can’t wait,” she breathed, then threw her arms around him. “Thank you.”

Not trusting himself, he quickly set her back. “My pleasure. Now…work.”

“No bike ride?”

He shook his head. “I have to take Rusty to the vet, then spend the morning on the phone. Some notes I took in San Francisco aren’t right. I want to straighten them out before I make a mess of this whole book. After that I’d better get to finishing the plan for my class.” He teased her. “You’re not the only one around here who has to work, y’ know.”

She smiled and took the hand he offered, squeezed it, then watched him head back down the drive. Quickly, though, her thoughts turned to the weekend, and she sensed that working her way through the next two days was going to be easier said than done.

By seven o’clock Saturday morning she was up and dressed and packed and waiting. After much deliberation she had chosen to wear jeans and a shirt, putting varied changes of clothing in the small overnight bag that now sat by the door.

Michael had rented the boat from ten that morning to the same time on Monday. He had said he would be by at nine so that they might stop for food before heading for the Yacht Club. He would have been furious had he known she’d spent the entire afternoon before in the kitchen, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate on her work, and she rather fancied the idea of sitting on deck with wine and homemade pâté, stuffed mushrooms and pea pods, and ramaki. She had baked a Black Forest cake, too, dashing out to the store for the freshest of heavy cream, the finest of semisweet chocolate, the richest of kirsch. All of her goodies were packaged and waiting in the refrigerator.

She wandered from room to room, looking out a window here, straightening a throw pillow there. She glanced at her watch, then began to wander again. She was on the deck with her face turned to the late August sun when a thought struck.

Blake would be calling on Sunday and she wouldn’t be here. If he was worried—and she wasn’t sure he would be, though she couldn’t take that chance—he might call Mrs. Hannah, or worse, her father. She didn’t want that.

Running back into the den, she picked up the phone, then hesitated. She had no idea what his Saturday schedule was in Washington. In Boston, he would have been up early and headed for the office, then the club. Deciding to take the course that would prove least embarrassing should she be wrong, she dialed his condominium.

The phone rang five times. She was about to hang up when he answered. Groggily. He’d been sleeping. Unusual.

“Hi, Blake.”

“Danica?”

She could see him peering at the clock that sat so prominently on his nightstand. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No. Uh, yes. I overslept. I should have been up an hour ago.”

“I thought I’d call you now because I’m going out on a boat with some friends and I won’t be here tomorrow.” It was only a tiny half-lie, she reasoned, and if Rusty was coming, no lie at all. She prayed Blake wouldn’t ask more.

He didn’t. “That should be nice for you. How long will you be gone?” His tone was conversational, as if he didn’t deeply care but felt some show of interest was called for.

“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back on Monday.”

“Well, have a good time.”

“How are things there?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Is anything new?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“All’s well at the Department?”

“Very well.”

She didn’t know what else to say. “Okay. I guess I’ll be going then. Talk with you next week?”

“That sounds fine. Bye-bye.”

Only after she hung up the receiver did Danica realize she was gritting her teeth, but then, it wasn’t the first time. Lately, when she talked to Blake, she was tense. He was always perfectly calm, properly composed—even today, after she’d woken him up. She pictured him lying in bed, with his hair barely mussed and his pajamas just so. For the life of her, she couldn’t picture herself beside him. The thought held no appeal whatsoever.

It was a travesty, the stale ritual they were living. She wondered if it bothered him, wondered if he was even aware of anything amiss. He always seemed to complacent. She knew that they couldn’t keep on this way, yet the alternative…

Unable, no, un
willing
to start her weekend by brooding, she left the den in a rush. For lack of anything better to do, she carried her overnight bag to the driveway, then returned to the kitchen to transfer things from the refrigerator to a large box.

Michael was early. “What in the devil have you done?” he exclaimed when she lifted the box from the kitchen table.

“I made a few things to eat.”

He quickly took the box from her. “You didn’t have to do that, Dani. I didn’t mean for this weekend to cause you work.”

The contrast struck her again. Blake would have objected on principle to his wife cooking, while Michael was simply and genuinely concerned that she had put herself out.

“It was fun. And don’t tell me you won’t be hungry all weekend.”

He lowered his chin. “Now, I didn’t say that. But we could have easily made do with store-bought things.”

“We’ll still need plenty. Are we all set?” She glanced toward the Blazer. “Rusty’s coming!”

“We’re dropping him at the Greta and Pat’s. They miss him.”

Danica made a face that said she wondered, but she didn’t argue. She didn’t want to share Michael with anyone, not even man’s best friend.

After making the appropriate stops, they arrived at the Yacht Club shortly before ten, loaded the boat and were off. Michael knew exactly how to handle the craft, and he patiently pointed out levers and buttons and switches for Danica’s benefit. She was content to stay close by his elbow, watching, listening, enjoying his nearness and the sense of release that increased with each nautical mile they put behind them.

Heading north, they cruised slowly and comfortably. At midday, Danica brought sandwiches up and they ate side by side, enjoying the food nearly as much as they did the tangy air and the salty sea. By midafternoon, they had passed seaward of Biddeford and Saco and were well into Bigelow Bight, approaching Casco Bay.

Changing into shorts, Danica stretched out on the forward deck, spreading her arms wide, delighting in the way the wind whipped across her skin.

“Like it?” Michael asked, sliding up beside her. He, too, had changed from his shirt and jeans into a tank top and shorts.