"I'm three stories up … besides, I'll be gone in a couple of months, it's not worth it." She smiled at her mother. "But thanks for the offer."
"Oh, of course, you're leaving before winter … the older I get, the more I dread the winters. I miss you so much when you're overseas, dear."
I won't move back to Portland, I won't, Julie thought frantically, and felt guilt curdle her stomach. She should be a better daughter: closer to home, more involved. But she'd lived with her parents until she was nearly eighteen, and her presence hadn't made either of them any happier. In fact, the opposite had been true: their daughter had given them one more thing to argue about.
The cheesecake caused Thomas to complain that Pearl never made desserts, and Pearl to calculate how many calories he'd just devoured. Julie poured coffee, listening to the rain beat against the windows. What would Travis have thought of her parents? Had he met them, would he have understood why she'd sent him away?
"You're spilling the coffee," Pearl said sharply.
"Oh … sorry, I'll get a cloth."
"You don't seem yourself," Thomas said. "Is there anything you're not telling us?"
Oh, yes, Julie thought wildly. There's plenty. Starting with this afternoon, when I just about attacked a man I scarcely know and behaved like a wanton hussy in the bed just down the hall. Wanton hussy was a phrase she'd heard her father use about a woman in a television play. Which, as Pearl had pointed out, he'd watched right to the end. Julie said carefully, "I'm a little tired, that's all."
"I don't know why you had to take that job all summer," her mother said. "You could have spent more time with us."
"I can use the money," Julie said mildly. "More coffee, Dad?"
After dinner Pearl insisted on washing the dishes, they all watched a nature show, and then her parents left. Julie closed the door behind them and wandered back into the living room. Maybe she should have let Travis stay for dinner, she thought wretchedly. Wouldn't that have been the easiest way to show him why she was so dead-set against commitment? She'd once suggested to her mother that if Pearl was so unhappy, maybe she should get a divorce; affronted, Pearl had lectured her about the sanctity of marriage vows, the tribulations of a woman's lot and the lifelong duties of motherhood. Julie had never mentioned divorce again.
Restlessly she roamed the apartment. She couldn't go for a walk, it was still pouring rain. She couldn't vacuum the apartment, it was already clean. And she couldn't sleep on the couch, the cushions were too thin. She forced herself to walk into her bedroom, get undressed and get into bed. But when she turned her head to the pillow, she caught, elusively, the clean male scent of Travis's body. Her fists clenched, Julie fought back tears that if they once started might never stop. She'd made the right choice, the only possible choice, by sending Travis away.
Hold that thought, Julie.
Closing her eyes, she started counting parakeets, which she'd long ago decided was a more colorful way of getting to sleep than counting sheep.
But it was a long time before her strategy worked.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The evenings home alone in her apartment were the worst. By Tuesday evening, Julie had it figured out: subconsciously, and despite the fact that she was the one who'd sent Travis packing, she was expecting him to get in touch with her.
Her mother phoned. So did Kathy, one of the nurses from the clinic, and her hairdresser. Travis didn't phone.
Why would he? She'd told him, unequivocally, to get lost. But to her horror, she realized she was furious with him for not phoning; for giving up so easily. Compounding her problems, Julie was sleeping very badly. While her mind might be saying she mustn't see Travis again, her body was giving her a very different message. Her body craved him, unrelentingly.
On Thursday evening, about nine-thirty, the telephone rang. Her mother, Julie thought glumly. No doubt Pearl was wondering why Julie hadn't dropped by all week. She picked up the receiver, trying to inject some energy into her voice. "Hello?"
"It's Travis."
His voice penetrated every pore, filling her with a tumult of helpless desire. She sank down on the nearest chair, clutching the receiver. "I told you to leave me alone," she said, surprised how forceful she sounded.
"I don't always do what I'm told-I thought you knew me well enough by now to realize that. What are your plans for the weekend?"
"I don't have any. With you or anyone else."
"Who else have you gone to bed with since last Sunday?"
"Five different men every night. Six on Tuesday."
"So you don't have time to go out for dinner with me Saturday evening?"
"No, I don't."
"Your loss," Travis said cheerfully, and cut the connection.
Puzzled and vastly disappointed, Julie listened to the hum on the line. He'd given up much too easily; nor had he sounded particularly upset. Nothing like Sunday.
He was getting over her. Already.
This thought should have made her happy. Instead, in a vile mood, she hauled on her Reeboks, went to the park and ran hard for over thirty minutes. Then she went to her fitness club, worked out and lifted weights. Her body was no doubt in better shape after all this activity. But it had done nothing to improve her mood.
She didn't want to be in the same room with Travis ever again. But she didn't want him getting over her too soon. How illogical was that?
Travis got in his car and headed for the clinic, glancing at his watch as he pulled out on the street. Perfect timing. He was being both deceitful and manipulative; but it was all in a good cause. At least, he hoped so.
Julie, as he well knew, had a mind of her own. Maybe she wouldn't even get in the car. Let alone agree to be driven anywhere by him.
It was up to him to persuade her. He'd never been one to back down from a challenge. And Julie was certainly a challenge. He shoved to the back of his mind the thought that he might just be banging his head against a brick wall, that Julie would once again give him the cold shoulder.
That she'd meant it when she'd said she didn't want to see him again.
It couldn't be true. How could he equate that with the woman he'd made love to in her apartment? Her innocence, that told him more clearly than words that her sexual experience had indeed been limited. The bemusement in her face when he'd touched her and she'd been seized by desire. Her generosity, her wholehearted abandonment, her heart-stopping beauty. His hands clenched on the wheel, Travis pulled up at a traffic light. He'd swear on a whole stack of Bibles that he was the first man to bring that woman into existence. So now was he supposed to sit back and allow her to be buried again? All because of her parents?
Or was he simply being an egotistical idiot who couldn't accept the word no? Who was acting out of wounded male pride?
He'd left the stately brick buildings of Old Port for the suburbs. The one word he was trying very hard to keep out of his calculations was that awkward word love. Bryce had asked him if he was in love with Julie, and he'd denied it instantly. This maelstrom of lust, frustration and longing that had him in its coils had nothing to do with love.
Although how would he know? He wasn't exactly an expert on the subject. And Julie, he suspected, was even less so.
He'd handled finding out she had no plans for the weekend rather well. He only hoped that hadn't changed since last night.
The grounds of the clinic boasted close-clipped lawns and flowerbeds filled with frilly petunias. Travis drove around to the side entrance, the one nearest the physiotherapy department. By some judicious questioning, he'd found out when Julie's shift ended; he'd already known, from conversations he'd had with her, that she took the bus to work, renting a car only when she had an expedition in mind.
He was fifteen minutes early.
It was a very long fifteen minutes, during which he had time to relive every detail of the time he'd spent with Julie, ending with their cataclysmic lovemaking and her obdurate refusal to see him again. For the tenth time, he looked at his watch. She was now five minutes late.
The side door swung open. A dark-haired woman in a crisp white uniform was running down the steps.
Travis got out of the car. Julie saw him instantly and stopped dead on the bottom step. Her face was a study of conflicting emotions; but surely there'd been, elusively, a flash of joy? "Hi, Julie," Travis said. "I was out this way and wondered if you wanted a drive home?"