rekindled(英文版)-第18章

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It　wasn't　an　easy　task。　Ross　seemed　to　be　everywhere　she　turned。　He　used
her　office　to　make　his　calls；　lounging　back　in　her　chair；　legs　long　and
straight；　crossed　lazily　at　the　ankles；　propped　on　the　corner　of　her
desk。

His　presence　filled　the　room　so　that　it　took　a　conscious　effort　on
Chloe's　part　to　quietly　creep　in　and　steal　her　own　work。　He　followed　her
every　move　with　interest；　though　he　was　at　the　same　time　maddeningly
capable　of　carrying　on　his　end　of　what　was　obviously　a　business
discussion。

After　retreating　to　the　back　porch　to　bask　in　the　rays　of　the　westward
sun；　she　put　her　best　effort　into　organizing　the　papers　on　her　lap。　But
her　best　effort　was　sadly　lacking。　Her　mind　wandered。　Then　Ross　appeared
in　the　flesh　to　ask　about　a　bucket；　a　sponge；　and　some　old　towels。　He
was　right　on　schedule；　his　self…satisfied　air　announced。　He　vanished；
then　reappeared　and　deposited　the　car…wash　gear　on　the　sandy　grass
beside　the　very　same　porch　on　which　she　sat。

Would　he　do　it　here？　she　wondered。　The　smooth　hum　of　his　car's　engine　as
he　pulled　the　vehicle　close　by　the　side　of　the　house　was　her　answer。

He　wanted　an　audience；　the　rat。

She　should　have　gotten　up　and　left；　but　she　sat　right　there　in　the　large
wood…slatted　porch　chair；　watching　while　he　put　his　best　effort　into
washing；　drying；　and　polishing　his　sporty　brown　BMW　As　he　stretched　to
soap　the　roof；　the　muscles　of　his　shoulders　bunched。　When　he　squatted　to
scrub　the　whitewalls；　the　muscles　of　his　thighs　swelled。　When　he　reached
across　the　front　windshield；　his　shirt　separated　from　his　jeans；　giving
fleeting；　devastating　glimpses　of　a　flat；　hard　belly。　And　through　it　all
was　the　sight　of　hands　and　forearms　at　work；　lightly　tanned；　softly
haired。

When　Chloe　had　taken　as　much　as　she　could；　she　stacked　her　papers　into　a
pie；　left　the　chair；　and；　without　a　word　to　explain　her　sudden
departure；　went　into　the　house。　To　clean？　She　hated　to　clean！　How　else；
though；　to　expend　some　of　the　nervous　energy　that　had　gathered　inside？

She　swept　the　floors　and　vacuumed　the　carpets；　all　at　doublespeed；　all
with　every　bit　of　elbow　grease　she　could　muster。　Tables；　chairs；
countertops；　and　shelves　met　similar　fates　beneath　her　dustcloth。
Perspiration　beaded　on　her　upper　lip。　She　barely　noticed。

The　football　game　offered　a　different　torment；　but　one　that　was　no　less
agonizing。　She　was　polishing　the　aged　oak　banister　halfway　to　the　second
floor　when　the　familiar　sound　waited　up；　and　she　sank　down　on　the　homey
wool　runner　in　defeat。　The　football　game…what　memories　it　brought。　That
sound…the　excited　roar　of　the　crowd；　the　babble　of　color　mentators；
the　endless　streams　of　kickoffs　and　passes；　punts　and　first　downs；
fumbles；　tumbles；　and　pileups…brought　back　the　days　in　New　Orleans　when
the　men　of　the　family　gathered　for　their　weekly　fix。　Her　brother　sit　had
been　so　long　since　she'd　seen　them。　Were　they　watching　this　same　game？
And　how　was　her　father　feeling？　He　wasn't　young　anymore。　Should　she　make
the　effort　to　go　back　before　。。。　？

〃Chloe？　Are　you　all　right？〃

It　wasn't　until　Ross　spoke　that　she　realized　he'd　even　approached。　Nor
had　she　been　aware　of　the　tears　in　her　eyes。　With　a　hard　swallow　and　a
feeble　smile；　she　willed　the　sadness　away。　〃I'm　fine。　I　think　I'll　go
for　a　run。〃

Leaving　Ross　where　he　stood；　she　pensively　covered　the　last　of　the　steps
to　the　top　landing；　disappeared　into　her　room　to　change　into　running
wear；　then　went　back　down　the　stairs　and　outside。　Her　sneakers　beat
rhythmically　down　the　beach　toward　the　far　end　of　the　bay；　much　as　they
had　done　at　roughly　the　same　time　the　day　before。　Had　it　only　been
twenty…four　hours　since　Ross　had　shown　up？　Already　he　seemed　so　at　home
here。　Worse；　at　odd　times　it　seemed　natural　to　have　him　here。

The　questions　kept　pace　with　her　jog。　Was　it　only　that　Ross　was　a　face
from　her　past？　Was　he　a　link　to　those　people　who　had　once　meant　so　much
to　her？　Did　she　crave　the　warmth　of　her　family？　Was　Ross；　by
association；　an　extension　of　them？

Without　answers；　she　paced　herself　for　another　ten　minutes　before
turning　around。　When　she　reached　the　house　she　didn't　bother　to　stop　at
the　door。　An　easy　lope　carried　her　into　the　kitchen；　through　to　the
living　room；　and　up　the　stairs。　No　sign　of　Ross…so　much　the　better。
Jogging　in　place　with　the　last　of　her　precious　energy；　she　piled　her
arms　with　fresh　towels　from　a　surprisingly　low　stack　in　the　linen　closet
and　went　to　her　room　for　a　robe。　There　she　stopped　dead　in　her　tracks。

Where　an　open　expanse　of　pale　lavender　quilt　had　been　when　she　had　left；
was　a　landscape　of　mate　artifacts。　And　clothes。　His　clothes。　He　had　made
himself　perfectly　at　home。　This　was　the　limit。

A　fit　of　fury　took　her　to　the　bathroom　door。　Better　judgment　stopped　her
on　the　threshold。　The　sink　taps　were　running。　If　she　barged　in；　what
would　she　find？　The　tremble　that　snaked　through　her　had　nothing　to　do
with　fear。　Rather；　she　conjured　up　the　image　of　Ross　shaving；　a　coat　of
white　lather　covering　his　jaw；　a　towel…her　towel　over　his　loins；　and
nothing；　nothing　else；　covering　or　covered。

As　she　stood　rooted　there；　the　shower　went　on；　the　curtain　clattered
back　on　its　hooks；　and　。。。　her　mind's　eye　saw　it　all。　The　towel　fell
away。　With　total　nonchalance；　he　stepped　into　the　shower。

Mercifully；　he　couldn't　hear　her　low　cry　as　she　whirled　back　toward　her
bedroom；　cursing　both　Ross　and　her　imagination　all　the　way。　But　she
couldn't　curb　her　curiosity　entirely。　Approaching　the　bed　with　an　odd
shyness；　she　studied　his　things。　There　was　the　leather　duffel　she　had
seen　earlier；　plus　a　larger；　flatter　suit　bag；　unzipped　to　reveal　a　pair
of　gray…blue　tweed　lapels。　There　was　the　smaller　canvas　case　that　had
contained　his　shaving　gear；　if　the　travel…sized　bottle　of　cologne　left
behind　was　any　indication。　There　was　a　shirt…white；　freshly　laundered；
lightly　starched。　There　were　a　tie；　clean　socks；　shorts　〃Oh；　Lord！〃　she
exclaimed　softly。　If　every　stitch　of　the　clothing　he　intended　to　put　on
was　here　on　her　bed；　exactly　what　did　he　plan　to　wear　for　the　trip　from
the　bathroom？

Anticipation　constricted　her　throat；　making　breathing　harder。　The
aftereffects　of　her　jog　had　faded；　this　quickening　was　due　to　desire。
Ross　turned　her　on。　Part　of　her　wanted　nothing　more　than　to　give　herself
to　him。　Give　herself？　She　would　take　as　well；　take　as　she　had　been　too
the　I've　to　do　eleven　years　before。　She　felt　suddenly　greedy；　possessed
with　a　need　to　satisfy　the　gnawing　inside。

〃You're　back！〃

Chloe　whirled　around。

Undaunted　by　her　alarm；　he　grinned。　〃I'd　hoped　to　be　out　of　your　way。〃
He　gestured　in　token　apology　toward　her　bed。　〃Guess　I　misjudged　the
time。〃　He　shot　a　look　at　the　hall。　〃I　helped　myself　to　your　supplies。
That　okay？〃

That　okay？　The　towel　was　draped　around　his　hips　with　as　much　panache…and
as　little　ceremony…as　she　had　earlier　imagined。　It　hung　low　on　his
stomach　and　left　little　to　the　imagination。　She　dragged　her　eyes　upward；
following　a　narrow　line　of　hair　past　his　navel　to　his　waist　and　slowly
higher。

〃Chloe；〃　Ross　began　in　husky　chiding；　〃do　you　have　any　idea　what　it　does
to　a　man　when　a　woman　looks　at　him　that　way？〃

It　took　every　ounce　of　her　willpower　to　keep　from　lowering　her　gaze　in
curiosity。　〃I'm　sorry…〃

〃Oh；　don't　be　sorry。〃　He　came　closer。　Though　he　didn't　touch　her；　his
body　was　no　more　than　a　breath　away。

And　she　felt　it；　felt　the　need。　She　put　a　hand　to　his　chest　to　ward　it
off；　but　it　was　a　sorry　miscalculation。　Her　fingers　found　a　mat　of　soft；
dark　hair　that　sprang；　warm　and　still　moist；　from　the　freshness　of
lightly　bronzed　skin。

The　pounding　of　her　pulse　frightened　her　so　that　she　tore　her　hand　from
his　chest　and　thrust　it　behind　her　back。　She　felt　a　huge　measure　of
guilt。　If　he　did　also；　it　was　hidden　behind　desire。　His　amber　eyes
smoldered；　heating　her　all　the　more。　The　need；　ahhhh；　the　need。　The　ache
to　be　held　and　loved　　。。。　Ever　so　slowly；　Ross　lowered　his　head　until
his　lips　shadowed　hers。　She　felt　them；　wanted　them。　Her　own　parted　in
silent　invitation。　She　closed　her　eyes　to　savor　the　sensation。　But　he
never　kissed　her。　Rather；　there　was　a　soft　exchange　of　breath；