You couldn’t discuss politics with them without their eyes glazing over. You couldn’t brawl with them the way you could with your mates on a football field. You couldn’t talk about sex or Verdi or high-caliber weapons in their presence without generating scowls from other adults in the room. Children didn’t seem of much use to him.
Yet Thomas had grown surprisingly fond of Jacob and Allison’s babies. Cray was now three years old and called him Toms. The child just couldn’t seem to get his mouth around that second syllable. Kristina was a delicate, squirming creature of six months. Thomas had been terrified of her at first. He was convinced that touching her with his big, awkward hands would instantly crush the child. But one day Allison simply plopped the baby in his arms as she took off across the garden after a runaway Cray. And there they’d been—the two of them. Thomas and Kristina. Staring at each other.
Thomas had instantly lost his heart to the blue-eyed mistress of the nursery.
Now he found excuses to hold her, to spend a few minutes of every day in the nursery soaking up the smell of talc and baby sweetness. He was convinced that little Kristina saved one special gurgle that sounded like ta-ta just for him. And she did something special for him whenever he held her. She relieved some of the torment he felt every time he looked in a mirror and saw his mother’s face looking back at him. His mother, who had deserted him. He had always been convinced they were alike in ways other than physical, that he was as incapable of strong attachments as his mother had proved to be. But when he held little Kristina, he believed he might be a gentler, kinder, better person. For just those few minutes…the doubts and agonizing guilt went away.
But surely, these two royal children were different from all others. Diane’s boisterous threesome were small strangers to him and likely to remain so. He told himself he was just doing what was necessary to help the prince’s sister-in-law out of a jam. That was all.
No, he thought with sudden, grim clarity as he walked beside Diane through the terminal. There’s more to it than that.
There was this maddening attraction that even now plagued him with prickly urgency to touch her as they walked through the terminal crowded with travelers. He remembered their kiss. He ached to repeat it. The thought of his lips on hers brought a sudden rush of heat to the nether regions of his body, and now a needy groan escaped his lips before he could stop it.
“Anything wrong?” Diane asked placidly, looking around at the busy airport shops with interest. Her eyes were a vivid, excited emerald today, full of anticipation of the adventure ahead. She seemed totally unaware of his torment.
“No. Nothing,” he grumbled. He wistfully eyed a crowded bar to their right called Port of Call. A double scotch would take the edge off. But he was driving and couldn’t indulge himself.
“It’s too bad the flights couldn’t have been closer together,” she mused, stopping to finger a pretty Irish wool shawl at an import shop. “We might have been able to leave directly after putting the children on their plane instead of having to drive back to Nanticoke.”
“I had thought about that,” he admitted. “But there was a delay in completing the maintenance check, then new flight plans had to be filed. Your passport won’t be delivered until later this afternoon. Seven hours’ wait in an airport would be a bore.” On the other hand, even an hour alone with Diane at the little Cape Cod wasn’t likely to be relaxing. He felt wound tighter than Big Ben’s spring.
“I suppose.” She sighed. “It’s just as well. I still have some cleaning to do before I can lock up the house for the summer.” She fell silent for the remainder of the hike to the short-term parking garage.
He wished he knew what she was thinking. Could she possibly guess how alert his body was to every move she made? The subtle sway of her full hips was enough to send sweat trickling down his spine under his clean white dress shirt. The purposeful tilt of her chin made his heart hammer. She seemed driven by a fresh supply of energy today—and he could think of dozens of ways to help her expend it.
Until now the children’s presence and obstreperous enthusiasm for the trip had made it impossible for any real sense of intimacy to develop between them. Diane had been busy with laundry and packing, and he’d needed to verify the children’s travel arrangements, then secure a car and driver to whisk the foursome directly from the arrival gate in Orlando to the grandparents’ home.
The night before they were all to leave, ten o’clock had rolled around before Diane had been able to get all three children settled in their beds. This admittedly had been an awkward time for him. Thomas had felt a restlessness growing inside as he’d contemplated their being alone at last. He hadn’t realized how much he’d longed for a chance to have Diane to himself.
But before he’d been able to decide how best to handle the situation, Diane had announced she was “totally done in” and would be calling it a night. She’d handed Thomas a pillow and blanket, then nodded toward the couch. Disappointed, he’d stretched out on the lumpy cushions. Minutes passed. He’d thought about Diane lying in her bed in the other room. Tried to ignore the insistent cravings of his body. It had seemed impossible to find a comfortable position for his long body on the too-short sofa. He’d listened to the softly seductive sounds of Diane turning restlessly between her sheets, to her sighs as she drifted off to sleep…to his own heart racing in his chest. He hadn’t slept at all.
But now an empty house awaited them. Thomas didn’t know how he was going to keep his hands off Diane. If he’d been a religious man, he’d have prayed all the way from Long Island to Nanticoke. Instead, he concentrated on driving.
The traffic on I-95 was relatively heavy for a Sunday morning. He expected that was due to the season. During the summer, vacationers would be on the road and locals on their way to the beaches. Whatever the reason, he felt deeply grateful for the distraction the weaving cars and speeding RVs provided. He didn’t have time to dwell on the hunger building inside his body.
As soon as he pulled the sedan into her driveway, before his hands even left the steering wheel, Diane threw open the passenger door and bounded toward the house like an Olympic sprinter. He followed her inside, wondering why she was in such a rush. When he walked through the kitchen door, she was already on the telephone, speaking in regretful tones to the only child’s mother she hadn’t been able to reach the day before.
Thomas pressed the heels of his hands down on the back of a kitchen chair and waited until she finished giving the woman the name of two other day-care providers in town and hung up. “Was she giving you a hard time about leaving for the summer?”
Diane jumped as if she hadn’t realized he was in the room. “Oh…not really. It’s unsettling for a parent to have to alter child-care arrangements on short notice. The problem is, she may be so happy with one of the women I’ve recommended, I might not get her back in the fall.”
“Perhaps you’ll decide to choose another kind of job by the time you return.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking a lot about alternatives.”
Thomas couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from that expressive mouth of hers as she bubbled on about careers she’d once dreamed of having—a translator for the U.N., liaison for a diplomatic mission, member of a negotiating team on assignment in a foreign country. He didn’t for a moment doubt she’d be good at any of them. But since she’d never had a job outside of her home, he feared she would need some time to work herself up the governmental ladder. Her lips twitched with emotion when she spoke, settled into a firm line of determination, pouted, trembled subtly, then lifted on a strand of hope. They were constantly moving. He longed to press his mouth over them, quiet them. Force them to respond to his own lips.
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