Again and again he kissed her … throat, cheeks, eyelids, and back to her soft, puffy-lipped mouth. He dropped to his knees and tongued her navel, wetting the fabric and gripping her hips so tightly he feared bruising her.
Her hands fisted in his hair. But she was holding him close, not pushing him away.
The tsunami crashed over him, an unimagined, unexpected wave of yearning so endless, his eyes stung.
But the aftermath was devastation.
He stumbled to his feet when Hattie tore herself from his embrace, her hair wild, her eyes dark and wide.
She held out a hand when he would have taken her in his arms again. "You've got to give me time," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "It's not just me anymore. I have the baby to think about. I can't afford to make another mistake."
"A mistake." He repeated it dumbly, his control in shreds. His soul froze with a whoosh of unbearable coldness. He shrugged, the studied nonchalance taking every ounce of acting skill he possessed. "You'll have to forgive me. I got carried away by the ambience. But you're right. We're both adults. We should be using our heads, not succumbing to moonlight madness. Let's chalk this up to a long day and leave it at that."
Her arms wrapped around her waist. For a moment he could swear she was going to say something of import.
But she didn't. And for the second time that day, she left him.
If Hattie slept at all, it was only in bits and snatches. Her eyes were gritty when the alarm went off at eight-thirty. And the fact that she had set an alarm for the first morning of her honeymoon made her want to laugh hysterically. She bit down on the macabre humor, afraid that if she let loose of the tight hold she had on her emotions that she would dissolve into a total mess.
She was dressed, packed and sitting on the bed by nine-fifteen. There was plenty of food in the kitchen, but the prospect of eating made her nauseous. Her stomach was tightly knotted, her mouth dry with despair.
When Luc knocked on her door just before ten, she opened it with pseudo calm. "Good morning."
He didn't return her greeting, but merely held out a cup of coffee. It was black and lightly sweet, just the way she liked it. Luc's expression was shuttered, dark smudges beneath his eyes emphasizing his lack of sleep.
As he picked up two of her bags, he spoke quietly. "I can hear the chopper. The pilot and I will load the luggage. Why don't you wait on the porch until we're ready?"
It was all accomplished in minutes. The man flying the helicopter was polite and deferential as he handed Hattie up into the large doorway. Luc followed. They buckled in, the rotors roared to life and moments later they were airborne.
Hattie gazed down at the island and had to blink back tears. It had been a fairy-tale wedding. Too bad she knew that fairy tales were nothing more than pleasant fiction.
The noise in the chopper made conversation impossible. Which was fine by Hattie. She kept her nose glued to the glass and watched the shoreline recede as they cruised across central Georgia. Ignoring Luc at the moment equaled self-preservation.
Landing at Atlanta's enormous airport was frantic. Chaos reigned in controlled waves. Luc gave her a sardonic look as they made their way into the terminal followed by their luggage. "We're flying commercial today," he said, scanning the departure board for their gate. "I know your Puritan soul would have balked if I had chartered a jet for just the two of us."
The security lines were long and slow. But finally, they were able to board. Hattie had never flown first-class. The width of the seat was generous, but still dangerously close to Luc's. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep as the jet gathered speed and took off.
Pretense became reality. She woke up only when they touched down in Miami. Luc must have slept, as well, because his usual sartorial perfection was definitely rumpled.
Their connecting flight to Key West was a small plane with only two seats on either side of a narrow aisle. Now she and Luc were wedged hip to hip. After her long nap, it was hard to fake sleep again. So she pretended an intense interest in watching the commotion outside her window.
When they were airborne for the short flight, Luc pulled out a business magazine and buried his head in it.
Hattie and her new groom had barely spoken the entire day.
She was travel-weary, depressed and missing Deedee.
The Key West airport was as tiny as Atlanta's was huge. Nothing more than a handful of plastic chairs and a few car rental counters. Luc had taken care of every detail. Their leased vehicle, a bright, cherry-red convertible, was waiting for them.
The first humorous moment of the day arrived when they struggled to fit their luggage into the car's small trunk. A disgruntled Luc finally conceded defeat and went inside to swap the car for a roomier sedan.
While he was gone, Hattie made a decision. They couldn't ignore each other forever. Last night was a bad mistake. He knew it, and she knew it. So it was best to start over and go from here.
She managed a smile when he returned with the new set of keys. "Sorry that didn't work out. I liked the convertible."
He thrust the last bag into the backseat and motioned for her to get in. "I'd buy you one, but it's not a great car for a mom."
His casual generosity was one thing, but hearing herself called a "mom" shocked her. It was true. She was a mother. The knowledge still had a hard time sinking into her befuddled brain.
Luc had apparently been here before or had at least memorized the route, because he drove with confidence, not bothering to consult the navigation system. When they pulled up in front of a charming two-story structure that looked like a sea captain's home from the nineteenth century, Hattie was surprised and delighted. This was so much better than an impersonal hotel.
The wooden building was painted mint-green with white trim. Neatly trimmed bougainvillea, and other flowers Hattie couldn't name, bloomed in profusion, emphasizing the tropical ambience.
Luc and Hattie had barely stepped from the car when a distinguished gentleman, perhaps in his early sixties, came out to meet them. He extended a hand to each of them. "Welcome to Flamingo's Rest. I'm the innkeeper, Marcel. We have the honeymoon suite all ready for you."
Marcel opened the weathered oak door and ushered them inside.
He grinned at Hattie, clearly happy to be welcoming guests. "You've come at a beautiful time of year."
Marcel led them up carpeted stairs and flung open the door to an apartment that took up half of the second floor. Before Hattie could do more than glance inside, their host smiled broadly. "Key West is the perfect spot for a romantic getaway. Let me know if you need anything at all."
Ten
In the wake of the innkeeper's departure, Hattie watched as Luc prowled the elegant quarters. The bedroom boasted an enormous four-poster king-size bed. Just looking at it through the doorway made Hattie tremble.
At the moment, she was ensconced in less volatile territory. The living area was furnished luxuriously, including a sofa and several chairs, a flat-screen TV, a wet bar and plush carpet underfoot.
Hattie curled up in one of the leather chairs. "This is very nice," she said, her words carefully neutral.
A brief knock at the door heralded the arrival of their luggage. Marcel and a younger employee stowed everything in the generous closets, accepted Luc's tip with pleased smiles and exited quietly.
In the subsequent silence, awkwardness grew.
Hattie waved a hand, doing her best to seem unconcerned. "I'll sleep out here. The couch is big and comfortable. I'll be fine." She tried changing the subject. "I'm going to call Ana now and see if I can talk to Deedee." She stopped and grinned wryly. "Well, you know what I mean. Do you want to say anything?"
Luc grabbed a beer from the fridge, his movements jerky. "Not right now. I have some business calls I need to make. I'll be in the bedroom if you need me."
Hattie choked on a sound that wasn't quite a giggle. She couldn't help it. After last night, his careless comment struck her as darkly funny.