Time and Again

love and marry. What games do the children play?" She leaned over to pour another inch of brandy in her glass. "Are hot dogs still the best bet at a baseball game? Are Mondays still the hardest day of the week?"
    "You'll have to make a list," he told her. He wanted to keep her talking, moving, laughing. Watching her now, animated, bursting with enthusiasm and humor, was as arousing as being in her arms. "What I can't answer, the computer can."
    "A list. Of course. I make terrific lists." Her eyes glowed as she laughed at him. "I know there are more important things for me to ask. Nuclear disarmament, world peace, a cure for cancer and the common cold. But I want to know it all, from the inconsequential to the shattering." Impatiently she pushed her hair back from her face. Her words couldn't seem to keep up with her thoughts. "Every second I think of something new. Do people still have Sunday picnics? Have we beaten world hunger and homelessness?
    Do all men in your time kiss the way you do?"
    The snifter paused halfway to his lips. Very slowly, very deliberately, he set it down. "I can't answer that, because I've only practiced on women."
    "I don't know where that came from." She, too, set the snifter aside, then rubbed her suddenly damp palms on the thighs of her jeans. "I suppose I'm a bit wired."
    "Excuse me?"
    "Nervous, excited. Confused." She pushed her hands through her hair. "Oh, God, Caleb, you confuse me. Even before- before all this."
    "We're even there, Libby."
    She stared at him. He hadn't moved, but she saw that he had tensed. "That's odd," she murmured. "I don't usually confuse anyone. Nothing seems to be exactly the way I expect it to be with you. I guess I'm a coward, because every time you come near me I want to run." She closed her eyes. "That's not true.
    You asked me once if I was afraid of you, and I said I wasn't. That's not true, either. I am afraid. Of you, of me, and most of all of thinking I might never feel this way again with anyone else." She began to roam the room again, picking up a pillow, tossing it aside, shifting a lamp. "I wish I knew what to do, what to say. I don't have any experience with this kind of thing. And, damn it, I wish you'd kiss me again and shut me up."
    He thought he could feel each separate nerve in his body stretch. "Libby, you know I want you. I haven't kept it to myself. But under the circumstances- the fact that I'll be gone in a few days-"
    "That's just it." Suddenly she wanted to weep. "You will be gone. I don't want to wonder what it might have been like. I want to know, I feel- oh, I don't know how I feel. The only thing I'm sure of is that I want you to make love with me tonight."
    She stopped, shocked that she had said it aloud, stunned that it was perhaps the truest thing she'd ever said. Then the nerves were gone, and the shock with them. She was absolutely calm, and absolutely certain.
    "Caleb, I want to be with you tonight."
    He rose. The hands he tucked in his pockets were two tense fists. "A few days ago it would have been easy. Things have changed, Libby. I care about you."
    "You care, so you don't want to love me?"
    "I want to so badly I can taste it." When his gaze whipped to hers, she could see that he spoke nothing less than the truth. "I also know that you've had a little too much to drink and more than too much to deal with tonight." He didn't dare touch her, but his voice was like a caress. "There are rules, Libby."
    She took what she knew might be the biggest step in her life when she moved to him and held out both hands.
    "Break them."

CHAPTER 7
    He could hear his own heart beating, could feel the blood pumping to and from it. In the shadowy light she looked mysterious, impossibly erotic in a baggy sweater and worn corduroy. Her hair was mussed, from the drive and from her own restless fingers. He could imagine, all too clearly, what it would be like to smooth it himself. How it would be to slip off all those layers of oversize clothing and find her slim and warm underneath. He took a long, careful breath and tried to think clearly.
    "Libby-" He ran a hand over his roughened chin. "I'm trying to think like a man you'd understand, one from your time. I don't seem to be doing a good job of it."
    "I'd rather you'd think like yourself." She wanted to be calm and confident. This was a decision she'd waited years to make. She was sure. But still there were nerves, brought on by excitement, anticipation and deep-rooted doubts about her own