"Oh, yeah," he said, his lips pulling back from his teeth, "yeah, you sure taught me that lesson. 'Not now, Chase. I'm not in the mood, Chase."'
"And whose fault was that, do you think?"
"You didn't see me rolling over and turning my back to you, did you, babe?"
"Don't 'babe' me," Annie said furiously. "And if I rolled away from you, it was for a dam good reason. I didn't feel anything anymore. Did you expect me to pretend?"
"Is that what you do when you're with Hoffman? Do you pretend he turns you on?"
Annie's hand shot through the air, but Chase caught her wrist before she could connect with his jaw.
"You know damn well you didn't have to pretend when I made love to you," he growled, "even at the end. You were just too proud to admit it."
"Poor Chase. Can't your ego take the truth?"
"I'll show you 'truth'!"
"No," Annie said, but it was too late, Chase had already pulled her into his arms, and brought his mouth to hers.
His kiss was filled with anger and Annie struggled against it, pounding her fists against his shoulders, trying desperately to tear her mouth from his.
And then, deep within her, something seemed to let go.
Maybe it was the stillness of the night, curling just outside the window. Maybe it was the unyielding tension of the endless day. Suddenly anger gave way to a far more dangerous emotion. Hunger. The hunger that had been between them in the past and that she'd believed dead.
Chase felt it, too.
"Annie," he whispered, against her mouth. His hands swept into her hair, lifting her face to his. With a sigh of surrender, her arms went around his neck, her lips parted beneath his, and she gave herself up to him and to the kiss.
It was like a dance once learned and never forgotten. Their bodies shifted, moving against each other with an ease that came of passion long-ago shared. Their heads tilted, their lips met, their tongues sought and tasted. Annie clasped her hands behind Chase's neck; he slid his slowly down her body, cupped her bottom and lifted her into him. She whimpered when she felt the hardness of him against her; he groaned when he felt her tilt her hips to his.
For long moments, they were lost to everything but each other. Then, breathing hard, they stepped apart.
Annie's skin felt hot when Chase cupped her face in his hands and brushed a light kiss on her lips. He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her into the darkness.
"Annie?" he whispered, and she smiled and clasped his wrists with her hands.
"Yes." She sighed...
Suddenly the kitchen blazed with light.
"Mom? Dad? What on earth are you doing?"
Annie and Chase spun around. Dawn and Nick stood in the doorway, openmouthed with shock.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS, Annie thought, the question of the decade.
What were they doing, she and her former husband?
Her cheeks, already scarlet, grew even hotter.
Making out as if they were a pair of oversexed kids, that was what. She and Chase had been wrapped around each other as if it were years and years ago, when he'd just brought her home from a date. In those days, not even an hour spent parked on that little knoll half an hour's drive north of the city, steaming up the windows of Chase's old Chevy, had been enough to keep them from wanting just one more kiss, one more caress.
"Mother?"
Dawn was still staring at them both. She looked as if finding her parents kissing was only slightly less shocking than it would be if she'd found the kitchen populated with little green men saying, "Take me to your leader."
And, Annie thought grimly, it was all Chase's fault
He'd taken advantage of her distress, capitalized on her already-confused emotions. And for what possible reason?
To shut her up.
It was the same old ploy he'd used during the years that their marriage had been falling apart. She'd try to talk about what was wrong and Chase, who was perfectly happy with their marriage as it was, would say there was nothing to discuss. And if she persisted, he'd shut her up by taking her in his arms and starting to make love.
It had worked, but only for a very little while, when she'd still been foolish enough to think those kisses meant he loved her. Eventually she'd figured out that they meant nothing of the sort. Chase was just silencing her, in the most direct way possible, using what had always worked best between them.
Sex. Raw, basic, you-Jane, me-Tarzan sex.
But sex, no matter how electric, just wasn't enough when the rest of the relationship had gone wrong. It had taken her a while to realize that, but realize it she had.
He was playing the same ugly game tonight. And she'd made it easy. Responding to him, when she knew better. Kissing him back, when she didn't feel anything for him. Whatever had seemed to happen, in his arms just now, was a lie. She didn't feel anything for Chase, except anger.
"Mother? Are you all right?"
Annie took a deep, deep breath.
"Fine," she said, and cleared her throat. "I'm perfectly fine, Dawn."
A puzzled smile broke across Dawn's mouth. She looked from Annie to Chase.
"What were you guys doing?"
Annie waited for Chase to respond, but he remained silent. That's right, she thought furiously. Let me be the one to figure out something to say. He knew, the rat, that she wouldn't tell Dawn the truth, wouldn't say, "Well, Dawn, your no-account old man was on the losing end of an argument so he did what he always used to do whenever that happened..."
"Well," Annie said, "well, your father and I were, ah, we were talking about you. And Nick. And-and-"
"And your mother began to cry, so I put my arms around her to comfort her."
Annie swung toward Chase. He was standing straight and tall, the portrait of honor, decency and paternalism in his chinos, open-collared shirt and long-sleeved, forest-green cashmere sweater. His hair was a little ruffled and he had end-of-day stubble on his jaw, but on him-she hated to admit-it looked good.
She, on the other hand, was a mess. Old jeans. Old sweatshirt. Hair that had been allowed to dry without benefit of a dryer or a brush, and a face that was painfully free of even the most basic makeup.
"Your poor mother is very upset." Chase said, putting his arm around Annie's shoulders and giving her his best "chin-up" smile. "She needed a shoulder to cry on. Isn't that right. Annie?"
"Right," Annie said, through a smile that was all clenched teeth. What else could she do? Blurt out that Chase was lying? That the two of them had been standing in the dark, locked in a kiss that had left her knees buckling, because he was a manipulative bastard and she was too long without a man? That was the truth, wasn't it? The real truth. She'd never have responded to him if she hadn't been living like a nun.
"Really?" Dawn looked at them both again, and then the faint smile that had been lifting her lips trembled and fell. "I understand. It was foolish of me to think... I mean, when I saw you guys kissing, I thought... I almost thought... Oh, never mind."
"Kissing?" Annie said, with a slightly wild laugh. She stepped carefully out of Chase's encircling arm, went to the stove and began making what had to be the hundredth pot of tea she'd made this evening. "Kissing, your father and me?"
"Uh-huh." Dawn slouched to the table, pulled out a chair and dropped into it. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her cupped hands. "Kissing. Just goes to show how utterly dumb I can be."
"No," Nick said quickly. Everyone looked at him. It was the first word to come out of his mouth since he and Dawn had switched on the light. His fuzz-free cheeks pinkened under the scrutiny of his bride and her parents. "You aren't."
"I am. Getting married when anybody with half a brain could see it was a mistake, because marriage doesn't last. We all know that."
"We don't know any such thing," Nick said, hurrying to her. He squatted beside her chair and reached for her hands, taking them gently in his.
"Just look around you, Nicky. Your guardian, your uncle Damian? Divorced. My parents? Divorced. Even Reverend Craighill-"
"The guy who performed the ceremony?" Chase said.
Dawn nodded.
"How do you know that?"
"I asked him. The poor man's been divorced twice. Twice, can you imagine?"
Chase shot a look at Annie. "No," he said tightly, "I certainly can't."
"Don't look at me that way," Annie snapped. The teakettle let out a piercing whistle and she snatched it from the stove. "What has the man's marital history to do with anything?"