From the Heart

When she fell silent, Slade dropped down beside her. For the space of a full minute, there was nothing but the sound of crashing waves and calling gulls.
    “Jess, why are you telling me this?”
    “Maybe because I don’t know you. Maybe because it seems I’ve known you for years.” A bit shakily, she laughed and dragged her hands through her hair. “I don’t know.” Taking a deep breath, she stared straight ahead. “Michael asked me to marry him.”
    It hit him hard—like a stunning blow to the back of the neck that leaves you disoriented just for an instant before unconsciousness. Very deliberately Slade gathered a handful of sand, then let it sift through his fingers. “And?”
    “And I don’t know what to do!” She turned to him then, all turbulent eyes and frustration. “I hate not knowing what to do.”
    Stop it now, he ordered himself. Tell her you’re not interested in hearing about her problems. But the words were already slipping out. “How do you feel about him?”
    “I depend on Michael,” she began, talking fast. “He’s part of my life. He’s important to me, very important—”
    “But you don’t love him,” Slade finished calmly. “Then you should know what to do.”
    “It’s not that simple,” she tossed back. With a sound of exasperation, she started to rise, then made herself sit still. “He’s in love with me. I don’t want to hurt him, and maybe . . .”
    “Maybe you should marry him so he won’t be hurt?” Slade gave a mirthless laugh. “Don’t be such an idiot.”
    Anger rose quickly and was as quickly suppressed. It was difficult to argue with logic. More miserable than offended, she watched a gull swoop low over the water. “I know marrying him would only hurt both of us in the long run, especially if his feelings for me are as deep as he thinks they are.”
    “You’re not sure he’s in love with you,” Slade murmured, considering the other reasons Michael might want her to marry him.
    “I’m sure he thinks he is,” Jessica returned. “I thought maybe if we became lovers, then—”
    “Good God!” He caught her by the shoulder roughly. “Are you considering offering your body as some sort of consolation prize?”
    “Don’t!” She shut her eyes so she couldn’t see the derision in his. “You make it sound so dirty.”
    “What the hell are you thinking of?” he demanded.
    In an uncharacteristic gesture of futility she lifted her hands. “My track record with men has been so poor, I thought . . . well, given a little time he’d change his mind.”
    “Imbecile,” Slade said shortly. “Just tell him no.”
    “Now you make it sound so easy.”
    “You’re making it complicated, Jess.”
    “Am I?” For a moment she lowered her forehead to her knees again. His hand was halfway to her hair before he stopped himself. “You’re so sure of yourself, Slade. Nothing makes a coward of me more than people I care about. The idea of facing him again, knowing what I have to do, makes me want to run.”
    He was responding to the fragility she so rarely showed. Deep inside him, something struggled to be free to comfort her. He banked it down an instant before it was too late. “He won’t be the first man who’s had a proposal turned down.”
    She sighed. Nothing she’d said had made sense once it had been spoken aloud—everything he said had. Some of the burden lifted. With a half smile, she turned to him. “Have you?”
    “Have I what?”
    “Had a proposal turned down.”
    He grinned, pleased that the lost look had left her eyes. “No . . . but then, marriage didn’t figure in any of them.”
    She gave her quick gurgle of laughter. “What did?”
    Reaching over, he grabbed a handful of her hair. “Is this color real?”
    “That’s an abominably rude question.”
    “One deserves another,” he countered.
    “If I answer yours will you answer mine?”
    “No.”
    “Then I suppose we’ll both have to use our imagination.” Jessica laughed again and started to rise, but the hand on her hair stopped her.
    The quizzical smile she gave him faded quickly. His eyes were fixed on hers, dark, intense, and for once readable. Desire. Hot, electric, restless desire. And she was drawn to him, already aroused by a look. For the first time she was afraid. He was going to take something from her she wouldn’t easily get back, if she managed to get it back at all. He pulled her closer, and she resisted. In an instinctive defense against a