River’s End

of Sam as two men, the one he’d been, the one he was now, Noah decided. Pieces of both had always been there, he imagined, but this was very much a story of what had been and what was. So he could sit here, try to picture how the man he knew now would deal with a perfectly cooked steak and a glass of fine wine. And he could imagine the man who’d been able to command much, much more at the flick of a finger.
    The man who’d taken Julie MacBride to bed the first time.
    I want to tell you how it was when Julie and I became lovers. It hadn’t been an angle Noah had expected Sam to take, not so soon, and not so intimately. But none of his surprise came through in his voice as he’d told Sam to go ahead.
    Listening now, Noah let himself slide into Sam’s place, into the warm southern California night. Into a past that wasn’t his. The words on the recording became images, and the images more of a memory than a dream.
    There was a full moon. It sailed the sky and shot beams of light, like silver swords, over the dark glint of the ocean. The sound of the surf as it rose, crested, crashed on shore was like the constant beat of an eager heart. They’d taken a drive down the coast, stopped for a ridiculous meal of fried shrimp served in red plastic baskets at a smudgy little diner where they’d hoped to go unnoticed.
    She’d worn a long flowered dress and a foolish straw hat to hide that waterfall of rich blond hair. She hadn’t bothered with makeup and her youth, her beauty, her outrageous freshness hadn’t been any sort of disguise.
    She’d laughed, licked cocktail sauce from her fingers. And heads had turned.
    They wanted to keep their relationship private, though so far it consisted of drives like this one, a few more-elegant meals, conversations and their work. Shooting had begun the month before, drastically cutting into any personal time they could steal.
    Tonight, they’d stolen a few hours to walk along that foaming surf, their fingers linked, their steps meandering.
    “I love doing this.” Her voice was low and smooth, with just a hint of huskiness. She looked like an ingenue and sounded like a siren. It was part of the mystique that made her. “Just walking, smelling the night.”
    ‘So do I.” Though he never had before her. Before Julie he’d craved the lights, the noise, the crowds and the attention centered on him. Now, being with her filled all those needy corners. “I love doing this even more.”
    He turned her, and she circled fluidly into his arms. Her lips curved as his met them, and they parted, inviting him in. She flowed into him, with tastes both sweet and sharp, scents both innocent and aware. The quiet sound of pleasure she made echoed in his blood like the crash of the surf.
    “You do it so well, too,” she murmured, and instead of easing away as she most often did, she pressed her cheek to his. let her body sway in tune to the sea. “Sam.” His name sighed out of her. “I want to be sensible, I want to listen to the people who tell me to be sensible.”
    Desire for her was an ache in his belly, a burning in the blood. It took every ounce of control to keep his hands gentle. “Who tells you to be sensible?”
    “People who love me.” She leaned back, her deep amber eyes steady on his. “I thought I could be, then I thought, Well, if I’m not, I’ll enjoy myself. I’m not a child, why shouldn’t I be one of Sam Tanner’s women if I want?”
    “Julie—”
    “No, wait.” She stepped back, lifted a hand palm out to stop him. “I’m not a child, Sam, and I can deal with reality. I only want you to be honest with me. Is that where we’re heading? To me becoming one of Sam Tanner’s women?”
    She’d accept that. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. The knowledge both thrilled and terrified him. He had only to say yes, take her hand, and she would go with him.
    She stood, her back to the dark sea with its white edges, the moonlight spearing down to cast their shadows on the sand. And waited.
    For the truth, he thought, and realized the truth was what he wanted for both of them.
    “Lydia and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. Haven’t been for weeks now.”
    “I know.” Julie smiled a little. “I read the gossip columns like anyone else. And I wouldn’t be here with you tonight if you were still involved with someone else.”
    “It’s over between us,” he said carefully. “It was over the first minute I saw you. Because the first