Remember the Dreams Page 18

  Her confusion over what was going on didn't allow her to focus on the problem that still existed between her and Kyle. Her normally analytical, practical mind was much too muddled to deal with logic.

  And it was very illogical to be standing there sinking her nails into her arms and admiring the snug fit of his jeans and the way his charcoal turtleneck sweater so perfectly molded his long back and broad shoulders. The motion of his hand as he drew it through his black hair brought her attention to the wealth of silver threading it. Even dressed as he was, as alternately agitated and controlled as she seemed, he still managed to exude a brand of distinguished masculinity that few men could ever hope to perfect.

  What woman in her right mind would give him up? some devilish voice inquired from within. An equally illusive voice responded. A woman who is nothing without the courage of her convictions. The first voice responded. Fool!

  "That all depends on her," Kyle was saying, and Toni quashed both mental advocates as she jerked her eyes to his face. He was watching her guardedly. "Don't worry," he assured Greg, turning away again, "I'll let you know, and I don't think your calling here hurt anything. I would have been here sooner, but I needed some time to reevaluate my position, so to speak."

  Whatever Greg's response was must have been amusing. Kyle chuckled quietly. Then, mumbling his thanks, he hung up.

  For a moment, he just stood there with his back to her and his hand resting on the phone. For that same moment, Toni thought about retrieving her blanket from the loveseat and wrapping it around her shivering body—even as a hundred questions skittered through her mind. She didn't know if she wanted to get that close to him, or which question he'd be most likely to answer.

  "My God," he muttered, eyeing the blanket and then the way she was running her hands over her arms. "Didn't he rent you any heat with this place?"

  "The furnace is broken."

  "Do you have any brandy?"

  "Are you that cold?"

  "I'm not. But you are. You're shaking like a leaf."

  She was. And as much as she hated to admit it, it was more from nerves than anything else. When was he going to get to the point? Whatever it was.

  The brandy suddenly sounded like a good idea. "It's in the kitchen."

  "Then let's go get you some. I could use it myself."

  A minute later, she understood why.

  Kyle stayed in the doorway of the compact kitchen while she filled her only coffee cup with Grand Marnier. When she handed it to him, she couldn't help but notice the tremor in his hand.

  "We'll have to share it," she said, trying to imagine what could affect someone as strong as Kyle like that. She turned to put the bottle away. "I don't have any glasses." All of her things were in transit from New York.

  "I love you, Toni."

  If the bottom of the bottle hadn't just hit the shelf, it would have been a hundred brown fragments on the floor. As it was, her numb fingers fell limply to her side and she turned to lean against the counter. "What did you say?"

  Kyle had put the cup down, and two strides placed him in front of her. She saw his chest expand with his deeply drawn breath and felt its quiet expulsion on the top of her head. It was almost as if he were trying to gather the courage to repeat the words she couldn't believe she'd just heard.

  "I said, I love you." He spoke more quietly this time, and the touch of his fingers on her cheek was tentative and light.

  Bewildered, afraid to acknowledge the voice that was telling her everything would be all right for fear that the hurt would only be compounded when she discovered that it wasn't, she could only stare up into those velvety gray eyes. The love she couldn't deny found its counterpart there, and the unwanted intrusion of reason was forgotten.

  For once, her heart was beating in its proper place. "I love you, too, Kyle," she whispered, touching the hard line of his jaw as timorously as he was her more delicate one. "I always have."

  He took her cold fingers from his cheek and brought them to his lips. His mouth felt firm and warm against the pads of her fingers. Warmer still when he pressed them to her forehead.

  An instant later, she was in his arms. A fevered sense of desperation telegraphed itself from one to the other. For now, this was all they needed. To allow themselves the simple security of just being held by the person they loved.

  "Oh, princess," he finally breathed. "There's so much I have to say to you."

  The heat of his body had brought a reactive shudder. Another darted through her when he moved back, withholding the kiss she now wanted so badly. He must have wanted it, too.

  His eyes had fallen to her mouth, and she could see his need wrestling with control.

  Control won. "Come on." He slipped his arm back around her shoulder and picked up the cup from the counter. "We need to talk."

  The seriousness in his tone, and the way he gulped down a swallow of the brandy, abruptly shadowed Toni's euphoria. Tucking her legs back under the blanket, she took a healthy sip herself.

  "I suppose you're wondering what that conversation with Greg was all about." He sat down several inches away and leaned forward to clasp his hands between his knees. Her response was unnecessary, and he continued without waiting for one. "I went to see him to get your address and"—he made a sound that was somewhere between a disbelieving sigh and an incredulous laugh—"and walked out with that, and him as my doctor."

  Toni's eyebrows shot together. "Your doctor? He's a gynecologist!" She took another swallow of brandy, a bigger one this time. Why would a man go to a gynecologist?

  Kyle must have thought her expression amusing. His lips tightened as if he were trying to suppress a smile, but in the next instant his jaw had tensed. "He's also a reproductive endocrinologist," he supplied quietly.

  Toni knew that. "So?"

  "Which is medical jargon for . . . ?"

  She shrugged. Apparently he wanted her to fill in the blank. "Infertility specialist," she responded—and met Kyle's steady, knowing gaze.

  Every nerve in her body went numb.

  Infertility. Children. He had said he didn't want them. Had he meant that he couldn't have them?

  A wave of understanding washed over her before he even began to speak.

  "That's why Lynn left me." His gaze returned to his hands. "She said there was no point in staying with someone who was only half a man."

  It had cost him a lot to say that, and he didn't have to explain the devastation that that unfeeling label must have wreaked on a man with as much pride as he had.

  "After a while," he continued, "I managed to convince myself that kids weren't important . . . that I never really wanted a family anyway, I had my work and ..."

  As he spoke, Toni was beginning to see how he had turned inward his desire for something he thought he could never have. How he had forced himself to make up for his "inadequacy" by determining to be the best at everything else. It didn't take a degree in psychology to see that the compulsion that had driven him so long ago— the need to get the accounts, the deals, even the women he wanted—had only been a need to prove to himself that he was as much of a man as the next guy.

  "I guess what it boiled down to"—he was gripping his hands so hard that his knuckles were white—"was that I was so afraid of having whatever you felt for me turn into the same bitterness Lynn felt, that I just couldn't face the fact that it was something you had every right to know. When I said I didn't see any point in our getting married, all I was doing was avoiding the issue . . . and you meant too much to me to let you walk away without thinking that I don't love you."

  He took a deep breath, and when he turned his head toward her she could see a strange excitement flickering in his eyes. It was there in his voice, too. "Before I went to see Greg, that was all I was going to say, but now ... I do want to marry you, Toni. And maybe I have a chance to give you what you want. He told me about this new procedure. ..."

  Toni was feeling a lot of things. An almost uncontainable happiness. Sympathy. Aff
ection. Love. And woven through it all, exasperation.

  Kyle was not a man who responded to sympathy. That would be the last thing he'd want. Knowing that whatever she said would have to be put delicately though, she set the cup of brandy next to the phone and searched for the proper words.

  "For cripe sake, Donovan," she muttered, leaning across him to grab his hands and make him face her. She'd been aching to touch him. "Stop talking like you're some steer that isn't marketable unless you can produce a calf!" So much for delicate. They'd always communi cated better when they didn't mince words anyway. "I love you, not your reproductive capabilities." She wanted to hear what else he had to say, but first she wanted him to know for certain that he mattered more than anything else.

  Her last remark was loaded with possibilities.

  And when she saw that wonderful, teasing smile lightening his features, she knew she was in for it.

  He shook his head slowly. "You could have fooled me." His dark eyes caressed her from the top of her head to her knees, and back up again. "I was under the impression that there were certain aspects of those capabilities that you . . ."

  "Be serious!"

  His smile deepened. "I am."

  "You're getting off the subject," she reminded him, not wanting to move from where she was pressed against his side. She wanted him to get back to this marriage thing, then tell her what Greg had said.

  Kyle shifted toward her, his motion making her release his hands. Taking her by the arms, he pushed her down onto the cushions, settling his weight on his elbows and covering her body with his. "I thought it was very much a part of the subject," he returned. He propped his chin in his hand and pushed the hair back from her forehead with the other. He could feel her small breasts crushed to his chest and the friction of her hips as she shifted beneath him. Suddenly, it was a little difficult to remember what else needed to be said. "Maybe we should ..."

  Toni's finger stilled his words.

  "You told me the other night that I was better at denying myself what I want than you are." Her voice was soft, filled with wonder at how instantly her body had responded to the feel of his. "But you were wrong. I want to kiss you, and I don't want to deny myself a minute longer."

  "Oh, Toni." The tight groan of longing rumbled in his chest, and his lips met hers.

  The tenderness of their kiss, the way his mouth barely touched hers when her tongue traced a tantalizing path along the firm line of his bottom lip, then dipped inward to tangle with the touch of his own, quickly turned to a hunger that threatened to consume them both.

  She clung to him, feeling the lean muscles in his back tensing as he molded her hips into more intimate alignment, delighting in the solid feel of his body and pulling his weight fully upon her. There were still words that needed to be said, matters to be discussed. But what they were communicating to each other now was just as important.

  His hands were working under her sweater, their warmth melting the pervading chill that had been shuddering through her only moments before. The tremors coursing through her now had nothing to do with the cold. And the answering tremble rippling his length spoke in answering need. She felt her arms being pulled from her sleeves and he lifted his head only long enough to pull the soft wool over hers and toss it and her scant pink bra to the floor. Then he was pressing her back down and murmuring her name over and over as he rained tormenting kisses from her ear to her throat and down to capture the turgid bud of her breast. Toni gasped at the shock of pleasure his tongue, his lips, his teeth, elicited. His caress was so loving, and so gentle.

  She drew her fingertips through the crispness of his hair, moving them slowly over the back of his head to dip below the collar of his sweater. His flesh was warm and hard—and that small contact wasn't enough.

  A tiny whimper caught in her throat when he slid his hand behind her back and moved to her other breast. His touch was like velvet fire, her own an impatient plea to rid him of the fabric that kept the feel of his skin from her. Kyle understood the urgent motions of her hands. They had followed the line of his back downward toward his belt.

  Seconds later, his sweater joined hers. The hair on his chest tantalized her sensitive breasts. The motion of his hand as he pushed the weight of one upward when he fastened his lips over hers once more brought a stab of exquisite heat to shimmer inward, then down.

  "I love you, princess," he rasped, tumbling them both to the floor and pulling the blanket over them. "I want to make love with you knowing what it's like to say and really mean those words." He moved his hand between them and caught the snap of her jeans. "And to have you mean them."

  Over and over she whispered those words. The confining garments were gone. There was nothing to separate the silkiness of her skin from the coarse smoothness of his. His hands drifted over her body. His sensual, provocative words urging her with their erotic poetry. Everywhere his tongue touched her, she burned. And she knew her own caresses, the subtle and seductive motions he had taught her, were provoking that same honeyed heat in him.

  "Please, Kyle," she pleaded, needing the release only he could give her—wanting the fervid tension to last forever. "Please. I need you."

  She arched against him, feeling his rigidity pressing against her. And then he was pulling back, poised above her.

  "Look at me." His voice was thick and laced with desire.

  Her lids felt heavy. But she met the intensity in his eyes and saw the passion tightening his features as he tucked his hand beneath her hips and slowly entered her waiting warmth.

  It was the tenderest of possessions. And then the fiercest. A culmination filled with so much need and love that the physical explosion of release that followed was only the final melding of two souls already irrevocably fused. And when the world righted itself long minutes later, the universe had expanded to accommodate the larger oneness they had created.

  The blanket lay in a tangled heap beside them, and Toni curled against the warmth of Kyle's chest. His leg was draped over hers, his fingers wending lazily over her arm.

  "Your skin feels like satin," he whispered, nuzzling her temple with his lips. "And sandpaper."

  A quizzical little laugh threaded her husky voice. "Sandpaper?" That wasn't very romantic!

  "Mmmm," he mumbled, groping above his head for something. "All those goosebumps."

  She hadn't even noticed. But now that he had mentioned it. . . "What are you"—he had put his hand on top of her head to get better leverage, and she felt the scratch of her sweater brush her neck when he pulled her upright— "doing?"

  Her last word was muffled by the turquoise wool being jerked over her head.

  "Dressing you. The last thing I want is for you to catch pneumonia. And there's still a couple of things we need to talk about." Her head popped out of the tight collar, and she met his wide grin. "We did get a little sidetracked, you know."

  "I guess we did." Was the smile on her face as silly as she thought it was?

  That smile relaxed as she reached for Kyle's sweater and she traded him that for her socks. It was probably better to concentrate on getting dressed rather than allow herself the distracting pleasure of watching him dress himself—so she turned and stood up to pullj)n her jeans. Though she had been thoroughly satisfied by their love-making, her need for him seemed insatiable. The sight of his naked perfection did nothing to alleviate that need.

  Clothed now, she ran her fingers through her tousled hair and glanced over to see Kyle frowning at her while he tucked his sweater into his waistband.

  She matched her expression to his and picked up the blanket. "What's the matter?"

  "Why'd you cut it?"

  Her hand flew back to her hair. Then, she shrugged. "For a couple of reasons." She resumed her former place on the loveseat. "It was a hassle to take care of. . . and every time I took it down, it reminded me of someone I was trying to forget."

  The muscle in his jaw bunched, which didn't agree at all with the smile he was trying to manage. He
said nothing else about it though. Apparently, her honest answer had left no room for comment.

  His odd mix of reactions brought a reminder of what she had been thinking about while lying peacefully in his arms. She understood now why Kyle had been so driven when she first met him. What she didn't understand was what had happened during those intervening years that had tempered that outward aggression. So she asked him—and that question brought his familiar grin when he sat down beside her.

  "I once knew this very opinionated, rather irritating young woman who had the audacity to tell me . . . her boss . . . that if I didn't get rid of the chip on my shoulder, I'd probably run myself right into an early grave, and that she'd be the only friend I had who'd attend my funeral." He reached for her hand and curved his fingers through hers. "If I remember right, I think I told her where she could go with her advice."

  That was the day Toni had fallen in love with him the first time. He'd told her where to go all right, but he'd done it with that beautifully sexy grin of his that had left her almost paralyzed.

  "It took a long time for that advice to sink in. . . ."His eyes caressed her face as he brought her fingers to his lips. "... And even longer for me to admit to you why that chip was there."

  She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. He'd had no reason to tell her then, and they both knew it.

  Kyle's expression sobered. "This procedure Greg told me about ..."

  The time for less significant questions was over. Kyle wanted to deal in realities now, and Toni quietly accepted what he presented as the cold, hard facts. She hated the thought of him having to undergo surgery. It was obvious enough that he was nervous about it, but at the same time she had never seen him so absorbed or excited about anything. The only thing that saved his graphic description of both the male anatomy and how the correction was supposed to work from being embarrassing was his fascination with the whole process. He talked about it like Greg was an auto mechanic who was going to fix a broken fuel pump.

  When Kyle had finished-his explanation, he uncoiled their hands and drew his finger down her cheek. "So how about it, princess?" he asked quietly. "Will you marry me and take the risk? He said there's only a fifty-fifty chance that it will work, but..."