“I was a fool to think I could politely shake your hand and let you leave. We’re more than casual friends and I can’t pretend otherwise—to hell with the consequences.”
Tears flooded Rorie’s eyes as she stared up at Clay. Then, from behind him, she saw the cloud of dust that announced Kate’s arrival. She inhaled a deep breath in an effort to compose herself and, wiping her damp cheeks with the back of one hand, forced a smile.
Clay released a ragged sigh as he trailed a callused hand down the side of her face. “Goodbye, Rorie,” he whispered. With that, he turned and walked away.
*
Thick fog swirled around Rorie as she paused to catch her breath on the path in Golden Gate Park. She bent forward and planted her hands on her knees, driving the oxygen into her heaving lungs. Not once in the two weeks she’d been on vacation had she followed her jogging routine, and now she was paying the penalty. The muscles in her calves and thighs protested the strenuous exercise and her heart seemed about to explode. Her biggest problem was trying to keep up with Dan, who’d run ahead, unwilling to slow his pace to match hers.
“Rorie?”
“Over here.” Her voice was barely more than a choked whisper. She meant to raise her hand and signal to him, but even that required more effort than she could manage. Seeing a bench in the distance, she stumbled over and collapsed into it. Leaning back, she stretched out her legs.
“You are out of shape,” Dan teased, handing her a small towel.
Rorie wiped the perspiration from her face and smiled her appreciation. “I can’t believe two weeks would make such a difference.” She’d been back in San Francisco only a couple of days. Other than dropping off the MG at Dan’s place, this was the first time they’d had a chance to get together.
Dan stood next to her, hardly out of breath—even after a three-mile workout.
“Two weeks is a long time,” he said with the hint of a smile. “I suppose you didn’t keep up with your vitamin program, either,” he chastised gently. “Well, Rorie, it’s obvious how much you need me.”
She chose to ignore that comment. “I used to consider myself in top physical condition. Not anymore. Good grief, I thought my heart was going to give out two miles back.”
Dan, blond and debonair, was appealingly handsome in a clean-cut boyish way. He draped the towel around his neck and grasped the ends. Rorie’s eyes were drawn to his hands, with their finely manicured nails and long tapered fingers. Stockbroker fingers. Nice hands. Friendly hands.
Still, Rorie couldn’t help comparing them with another pair of male hands, darkly tanned from hours in the sun and roughly callused. Gentle hands. Working hands.
“I meant what I said about you needing me,” Dan murmured, watching her closely. “It’s time we got serious, Rorie. Time we made some important decisions about our future.”
When she least expected it, he slid closer on the bench beside her. With his so smooth fingers, he cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her flushed cheeks. “I did a lot of thinking while you were away.”
She covered his fingers with her own, praying for an easier way to say what she must. They’d been seeing each other for months and she hated to hurt him, but it would be even crueler to lead him on. When they’d started dating, Dan had been looking for a casual relationship. He’d recently been divorced and wasn’t ready for a new emotional commitment.
“Oh, Dan, I think I know what you’re going to say. Please don’t.”
He paused, searching her face intently. “What do you mean?”
“I did some thinking while I was away, too, and I realized that although I’ll always treasure your friendship, we can’t ever be more than friends.”
His dark eyes ignited with resistance. “What happened to you on this vacation, Rorie? You left, and two weeks later you returned a completely different woman.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Rorie objected weakly. She knew she was different, from the inside out.
“You’ve hardly said a word to me about your trip,” Dan complained, in a tone that suggested he felt hurt by her reticence. “All you’ve said is that the car broke down in the Oregon outback and you were stuck on some farm for days until a part could be delivered. You don’t blame me for that, do you? I had no idea there was anything wrong with the water pump.”
She laughed at his description of Nightingale as the outback.
“You completely missed the writers’ conference, didn’t you?”
“That couldn’t be helped, but I enjoyed the rest of my vacation. Victoria was like stepping into a small piece of England,” she said, in an effort to divert his attention from the time she’d spent on the Franklin farm. Victoria had been lovely, but unfortunately she hadn’t been in the proper mood to appreciate its special beauty.
“You didn’t so much as mail me a postcard.”
“I know,” she said with a twinge of guilt.