Sweet Anger(46)

“Your nose is sunburned,” he observed. Laughing lightly, she touched the tip of her nose self-consciously. “Have you been lying in the sun?”

“Some, not much. I get cold easily and it’s usually too cool up here in the mountains for me to sunbathe. But I’ve been taking long walks.”

They lapsed into another silence. He thought about how cute that sunburn looked on her nose. She wondered if the dark springy hair showing through the opening of his shirt covered all his chest.

“The wine, sir,” the waiter said hesitantly after he’d stood unnoticed beside the table for long moments.

Hunter went through the tasting ritual. Kari was given another glass and it was filled with a golden wine that she could have sworn was already flowing through her veins. She sampled it and smiled appreciatively, but she hadn’t really tasted it. She would taste nothing. The hunger that had compelled her to order a huge dinner had vanished.

They sipped at their wine and stared fixedly at the candle on the table as though it contained the answers to all the secrets of the universe.

“How did you know—Never mind. I know who told you I was here.” Then, thinking she might have been too presumptuous, she said, “This wasn’t an accidental meeting, was it?”

He shook his head. “This was no accident.”

Her eyes returned to the candle. “You asked Pinkie where I was.” There was little inquiry in her voice. It was a quietly spoken statement.

“Yes.”

“I only called him last week. He was sworn to secrecy.”

“I made a pest of myself and wore him down.” He’d made it a daily habit to stop by the television station on his way home from the office to ask if Pinkie had heard from her. And just as habitually, Pinkie and Bonnie refrained from leaving until they had seen him. Finally last Wednesday Pinkie had had something to report.

“Breckenridge!” Hunter recalled exclaiming. He had expected Tahiti, or Tibet, not someplace as close as Breckenridge. He’d been a basket case for almost three months and she had been only seventy miles away.

“Please don’t be angry that I tracked you down,” he said.

She looked at him directly, staring straight into the gray-green depths of his eyes. “I’m not angry.” Her lips barely moved and the words were whispered. “Not anymore.”

He had been accused of many things, but being dense wasn’t one of them. She didn’t have to spell it out for him to get the message. He’d been forgiven.

A tightness inside his chest gave way and he began to breathe normally for the first time in a long while. He’d had a knot in his chest ever since the day he knew what destruction his actions were going to bring into her world, a world that had already fallen apart. He felt like laughing.

Instead he raised his glass. When she did the same, he clinked them together, toasting the truce they had tacitly made. They watched each other over the rims of their glasses as they drank.

It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to lean over and kiss her wine-glossed lips. He longed to bury his fingers in the wealth of her hair. His mouth wanted to chart the satin smoothness of her throat and beyond, into the V of her sweater.

She was noticing what beautiful hands he had. They were tapered and lean and strong, with a sprinkling of dark hair on the knuckles. His wrist wasn’t too thick. It was encircled by a gold watch. Suddenly she wanted to pick up his hand and study it in minute detail.

They ate each course of their meal unhurriedly. The restaurant wasn’t crowded. The staff was attentive, but they were content to let their diners set a lingering pace.

The lettuce salads were cold and crisp. The baked potatoes were hot and fluffy and dripping with high-caloric garnishings. The trout was aromatic with herbs and grilled to perfection.

But Kari nearly choked on a succulent mouthful when Hunter asked, “How long have Pinkie and Bonnie been living together?”

The bite of food finally went down the right tube. She chased it with a swallow of wine and blotted her watering eyes with her napkin. “The Pinkie and Bonnie I know are living together?”

He shrugged. “I assume they are. They leave the parking lot of the television station together. The other day I heard her reminding him that ‘they’ were out of milk and should stop and get some on the way home. That sounds rather domestic, doesn’t it?”

“Milk?” Kari squeaked. Flopping back against the padded booth, she laughed. “That low-down sneak! He didn’t tell me when I talked to him. He didn’t want to hear me say ‘I told you so.’ ”

Hunter pushed his plate aside and relaxed with her against the back of the booth. “I take it their affair is a project you’ve been working on for some time.”