She nearly stumbled, and caught the back of a kitchen chair to steady herself. Her knuckles went white on the wood as she stared at him, dragging air into her lungs. She knew nothing about him, yet she had given him more than she had ever given anyone. Her mind was trained to ask questions, but at the moment it was her heart, fragile and irrational, that held sway.
“If you’re going to stay here, in this house, I don’t want you to touch me again.”
It was fear he saw in her eyes now. He understood it, as he felt a trace of it himself. “I didn’t expect that any more than you did. I’m not sure I like it any more than you do.”
“Then we shouldn’t have any trouble avoiding anything like this in the future.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, not bothering to analyze why he was suddenly so angry. “Listen, babe, that was just as much your doing as mine.”
“You grabbed me.”
“No, I kissed you. You did the grabbing.” It gave him little satisfaction to see her color rise. “I didn’t force myself on you, Libby, and we both know it. But if you want to pretend you’ve got ice in your veins, that’s fine with me.”
The embarrassed flush fled from her face, leaving it very white and very still. In contrast, her eyes went dark and wide. The stunned hurt that glazed them had him cursing himself and stepping forward.
“I’m sorry.”
She shifted behind the chair and managed to speak calmly. “I don’t want or expect an apology from you, but I do expect cooperation.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ll get both.”
“I have a lot of work to do. You’re welcome to take the television into your room, and there are books on the shelf by the fireplace. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of my way for the rest of the day.”
He dug his hands into his pockets. If she wanted to be stubborn, he could match her. “Fine.”
She waited, her arms crossed over her chest, until he strode out of the room. She wanted to throw something, preferably something breakable. He had no right to say that to her after what he’d made her feel.
Ice in her veins? No, her problem had always been that she felt too much, wanted too much. Except when it came to personal, physical, one-to-one relationships with men. Miserable, she yanked out the chair and dropped onto it. She was a devoted daughter, a loving sister, a faithful friend. But no one’s lover. She’d never experienced the driving need for intimacy. At times she’d been certain there was something lacking in her.
With one kiss, Cal had made her want things she’d almost convinced herself weren’t important. At least not for her. She had her work, she was ambitious, and she knew she would make her mark. She had her family, her friends, her associates. Damn it, she was happy. She didn’t need some hotshot pilot who couldn’t keep his plane in the air to come along and make her feel restless—and alive, she mused, running a fingertip over her bottom lip. She hadn’t known just how alive she could feel until he’d kissed her.
It was ridiculous. More unnerved than annoyed, she sprang up to pour another cup of coffee. He’d simply reminded her of something she forgot from time to time. She was a young, normal, healthy woman. A woman, she remembered, who had just spent several months on a remote island in the South Pacific. What she needed was to finish her dissertation and get back to Portland. Socialize, take in some movies, go to a few parties. What she needed, she decided with a nod, was to get Caleb Hornblower on his way, back to wherever the devil he came from.
Taking the coffee, she started upstairs. For all she knew, he might have dropped down from the moon.
She passed his room and couldn’t prevent a quick snicker when she heard the frantic sounds of a television game show. The man, she thought as she slipped behind her own door, was easily entertained.
Chapter 4
It was an education. Cal spent several hours engrossed in a sea of daytime television. Every ten or fifteen minutes he switched channels, moving from game show to soap opera, from talk show to commercial. He found the commercials particularly entertaining, with their bright, often startling, intensity.
He preferred the musical ones, with their jumpy tunes and contagious cheer. But others made him wonder about the people who lived in this time, in this place.
Some selections showcased frazzled women fighting things like grease stains and dull wax buildup. He couldn’t imagine his mother—or any other woman, for that matter—worrying about which detergent made whites whiter. But the commercials were delightful entertainment.
There were others that had attractive men and women solving their problems by drinking carbonated beverages or coffee. It seemed everyone worked, many outside, in sweaty jobs, so that they could go to a bar with friends at the end of the day and drink beer. He thought their costumes were wonderful.
On a daytime drama he watched a woman have a brief, intense conversation with a man about the possibility of her being pregnant. Either a woman was pregnant or she wasn’t, Cal mused, switching over to see a paunchy man in a checked jacket win a week’s vacation in Hawaii. From the winner’s reaction, Cal figured that must be a pretty big deal in the twentieth century.
He wondered, as he caught snippets ofThe News At Noon, how humanity had ever made it to the twenty-first century and beyond. Murder was obviously a popular sport. As were discussions on arms limitations and treaties. Politicians apparently hadn’t changed much, he thought as he snacked on a box of cookies he’d found in Libby’s kitchen, his legs folded under him. They were still long-winded, they still danced around the truth, and they still smiled a great deal. But to imagine that world leaders had actually negotiated over how many nuclear weapons each would build and maintain was ludicrous. How many had they thought they needed?
No matter, he decided, and switched back to a soap. They had come to their senses eventually.
He liked the soaps the best. Though the picture was wavy and the sound occasionally jumped, he enjoyed watching the people react, agonizing about their problems, contemplating marriages, divorces and love affairs. Relationships had apparently been among the top ten problems of this century.
As he watched, a curvy blonde with tears in her eyes and a tough-looking bare-chested man fell into each other’s arms for a long, deep, passionate kiss. The music swelled until fade-out. Kissing was obviously an accepted habit of the time, Cal reflected. So why had Libby been so upset by one?
Restless, he rose and walked to the window. He hadn’t exactly reacted in an expected fashion himself. The kiss had left him feeling angry, uneasy and vulnerable. None of those reactions had ever occurred before. And none of them, he admitted now, had lessened his desire for her in the least.