Time and Again

daylight. Much odder was the fact that he was here at all, that he had found her, despite the centuries.
    When he lived, she couldn't go. When she lived, he couldn't stay. And yet, in this small space of time, they were together.
    Time was passing.
    "I don't know what we're going to do about this," he murmured. There had to be a way, some equation, some theory. But what computer could analyze data that was so purely emotional?
    "One day at a time, remember?" She drew back, smiling. "We've got plenty of time." She hugged him close, and she didn't see the trouble come into his eyes. "Speaking of which, we've got almost two hours before Portland."
    "Too long."
    She chuckled, then squirmed back into her seat. "I was thinking the same thing."
    She zoomed out of the lot, keeping her eyes peeled. With a grin of satisfaction, she pulled into the first motel she spotted. "I think we can use a break." After snatching up her bag, she strolled into the office to register.
    This time she used a plastic card-something much less foreign to him. With little trouble and less conversation, she secured a key from the clerk.
    "How long have we got?" Jacob asked as he swung an arm over her shoulder.
    She shot him a look. "It may be a motel," she said, steering them toward a door marked '9', "but I don't think this particular chain rents rooms by the hour. So-" She turned the key in the lock. "We've got the rest of the day-and all night-if we want."
    "We want." He caught her the moment she stepped inside. Then, wheeling her around, he used their joined bodies to slam the door closed. Because his hands were already occupied, Sunny reached behind her to secure the chain.
    "J.T., wait."
    "Why?"
    "I'd really prefer it if we drew the drapes first."
    He ran the palm of one hand over the wall, searching for a button while he tugged at her coat with the other.
    "What are you doing?"
    "Looking for the switch."
    She chuckled into his throat. "At thirty-five a night you have to close the curtains by hand." She wiggled away to deal with it. "I'd love to see the kind of motels you're used to."
    The light became dim and soft, with a thin, bright slit in the center, where the drapes met. She was standing just there, with the light like a spear behind her. And she enchanted him.
    "There's this place on an island off Maine." He shrugged out of the borrowed coat, then sat down to pry off his boots. "The rooms are built on a promontory so that they hang over the sea. Waves crash up beneath, beside, in front. The windows are-" How to explain it? "They're made out of a special material so that you can see out as far as the horizon but no one can see in-so that beyond one entire wall there's nothing but rock and ocean. The tubs are huge and sunken, and the water steams with perfume."
    He rose slowly, picturing it. Picturing her there, with him. "You can have music, just by wishing for it. If you want moonlight, or the sound of rain, you've only to touch a switch. The beds are big and soft, so that when a man reaches for his woman she all but floats to him over it. While you're there, time stops for as long as you believe it."
    Aroused, she let out a shaky breath. "You're making this up."
    He shook his head. "I'd take you there, if I could."
    "I have a good imagination," she said as he pushed the coat from her shoulders. She shuddered when he ran his hands down her. "We'll pretend we're there. But I don't think there's moonlight."
    Smiling, he eased her down and pulled off her boots one by one. "What then?"
    "Thunder." Her breath shivered out when he trailed his fingers up her calf. "And lightning. That's what I feel when you touch me."
    There was a storm in him. He saw the power of it reflected in her eyes. She rose so that her body skimmed up his, inch by tormenting inch. Before he could take her lips, she was pressing them, already hot, to his throat. The pulse that hammered there excited her, the taste inflamed her. Wanting more freedom, she pushed his sweater up and up, then let it fall to the floor in a heap.
    With a lingering sound of pleasure, she traced her lips over his chest, absorbing the texture, the intimate flavor, of his skin. It was soft, dreamily soft, over the hard ridges of muscles. His scent, earthy and male, delighted her.
    There was thunder. She could feel it when she let her mouth loiter over his heart. It beat for her. There was lightning. She saw the flash of power when she looked into his eyes.
    He was surprised he could still stand.