Susannah's hands stilled on the cork as Yank's mouth curved in a slow sleepy smile that was almost mesmerizing. Paige was right. Yank had turned into an incredibly attractive man, and she had barely been aware of it.
Paige wove her fingers through his and pulled him toward the doorway. "Don't wait up for us," she called over her shoulder. "I'm not letting him back until I've had my way with him."
For all her bravado, Paige felt awkward the moment the cottage was behind them and they were alone. There was something spooky about him-as if he knew all sorts of things other people didn't. She didn't like being put at a disadvantage with Yank, but she wasn't quite certain how to take control.
The moon lit their way, shining silver on the harsh rocks as they headed down the path to the beach. The night was warm and still, and the waves lapped softly at the shore. She walked to the edge, pretending to be mesmerized by the water, while she tried to ignore the fact that Yank was studying her quite openly.
His scrutiny made her increasingly uncomfortable. She fell back on her old tricks. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're incredibly sexy?"
"Yes."
"Susannah thinks you're a nerd."
"I know."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"Do you think it should?"
"How would I know? If you want to go through life having everyone think you're weird, I guess that's your problem."
He laughed softly.
His amusement irritated her. It suggested that he understood something she could not even begin to perceive. In retaliation, she reached for the tail of her T-shirt and began to pull it up over her bare breasts. "Let's go in for a swim."
He caught her hands, stilling her movement in a surprisingly firm grip. "No, I don't want you to take off your clothes in front of me."
"God, not another one. First Mitch and now you. What are you? A couple of Buddhists or something?"
"Maybe Mitch understands, too. Seducing either one of us isn't the right thing for you to do. Not now."
"Who made you God? How do you know what's right and wrong for me?"
"I just know, that's all. It occurred to me at dinner exactly how all this might turn out. If we're very, very lucky, of course."
"How what will turn out? What are you talking about?"
He brushed the side of her cheek with his hand in the gentlest gesture she could ever remember receiving from a man, and she looked into eyes that were as wise and compassionate as the eyes of a dime-store Jesus. "You mustn't give yourself to anyone for a while, Paige. Not sexually. It's quite important."
She slapped away his gentle touch with the flat of her hand. "I'll 'give myself to anybody I like! God, you really are a nerd! From now on, you mind your own goddamn business, do you hear me? Fuck you, mister. Just… fuck you."
He gave her a sweet sad smile and turned away to watch the waves.
Susannah made certain she was in bed before Yank and Paige returned from the beach. She couldn't bear the thought of another discussion about leaving. As she plumped her pillow, she remembered Paige's astonishing reaction to Yank's appearance. Her sister's sexual sparring with Mitch hadn't been at all surprising-Mitch was an incredibly attractive man-but Paige had seemed just as captivated with Yank.
She shut her eyes and tried to relax so she could sleep, but her eyelids kept jumping open. To distract herself, she began to imagine what it would be like to make love with Yank. Try as she might, ail she could picture was Yank getting distracted at the crucial moment.
And then, to her utter shame, she felt a flash of desire. For the first time it occurred to her that sexual frustration was something she would have to learn to live with. She was a sensual woman, and that part of her wouldn't go away just because she no longer had a husband to satisfy her. At the same time, she was so bruised that she couldn't imagine ever again making the deep emotional commitment that she needed before she could go to bed with someone.
A picture of Sam hovering over her as they made love took shape in her mind. The pain that accompanied it was so sharp she bit down on her lip. Don't think about it, she told herself. Think about someone else.
She pondered the bleak sexless years ahead. Once again she tried to envision herself with Yank, but the picture wouldn't take hold. Another picture took its place, one of herself and Mitch. Fantasy was a harmless pursuit, so she gave herself permission to strip off the black trunks that he had worn on the beach. She imagined his shape and size, and her limbs began to feel pleasantly lax. She let him pick her up and lay her down on a blue silk sheet. She conjured up the scent that he carried with him of starched shirt and clean skin. Her body felt heavy and languid.
She groaned and buried her face into the pillow. As her eyelids squeezed shut, Sam's mouth took shape in her mind. Sam's mouth-hard and determined-whispering a lifelong litany of traitorous love words.
She got up very early the next morning, still groggy from her awful night. Holding her sandals in her hand so she wouldn't make any noise, she slipped across the front room toward the door so she could get away before Yank awakened. Later she would be ready to face him, but not yet.
"Susannah?"
She moaned with frustration as Yank slipped out of his bedroom. His hair was tousled and he had pulled on the wrinkled chinos he had been wearing the night before. The rest of him was uncovered. She didn't realize until that moment that she had never seen Yank without a shirt. His chest was lean almost to the point of boniness, but there was a tautness about his flesh that made his thinness appealing.
"I'm going into town," she said, anxious to get away before he stopped her. "I thought I'd get some pastries for breakfast."
"We don't actually need any pastries." He walked over to the kitchen table, where he picked up a ripe peach from a bowl of fruit and bit into it. He chewed slowly, then looked down at the peach as if he had never seen one before. "It would be easiest on you, Susannah, if you simply resigned yourself to going back with me this afternoon."
"This afternoon? That's impossible."
"Would you prefer to wait until tomorrow morning?"
"No, I-"
"This afternoon, then." He made the statement with ominous finality.
"Yank, I don't want to go back. Not yet. Don't press me on this."
"Someone has to press you. I was very disappointed with Mitch. He should have brought you back last week."
"I'm not a piece of cargo! Listen to me, Yank. The thought of facing Sam-I just can't do it yet."
"Of course you can. You're quite strong, Susannah. You need to remind yourself of that."
She didn't feel at all strong. She felt like a little girl with a string of broken balloons woven through her fingers. "Being forced to face Sam a dozen times a day is a little more than I can handle right now."
"The company depends on you."
She threw down her sandals. They skidded across the floor and banged into the leg of a chair. "Forget about the company! I'm sick of hearing about it. If we believe the Gospel according to Gamble, SysVal is just as important as Christianity. I don't buy that anymore. We're making a computer, for God's sake. A machine. That's all." She waved her hand toward the ceiling. "See! The sky didn't fall. I spoke blasphemy and nothing happened."
Yank looked strained, as if being near such an outpouring of emotion had exhausted him. He dropped the peach pit into the waste basket. "SysVal isn't three kids in a garage anymore. It's a company filled with people who have to pay their mortgages and support their families."
"I'm not responsible for that. All those people aren't my responsibility."
"Yes, they are. You're essential to SysVal."
"I'm the most replaceable of the partners, and you know it."
"You're the least replaceable. I'm surprised you don't realize that. From the very beginning, you're the only one of us who has always been able to see the whole picture. The rest of us only see parts."