Shadow Chasing, page 11
Melting against him, she explored his earlobe with her tongue as her fingertips caressed his clenched jaw. “I think I’m going crazy,” she murmured at last. “I want you so much my heart’s ready to pound right out of me.”
“Then why?” he groaned against her ear. “Why are you running from me so hard I can barely keep up with you?”
“I’m so scared.” Her low voice wavered. “I don’t want to be like my mother.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” He continued to nibble the side of her neck, making it impossible for her to think clearly.
“Everything,” she cried desperately. “I’m not the right person for you.”
“But I won’t want anyone else.”
“Philip, be reasonable.”
“You’re in my arms. I can’t think straight.” He bit gently at the edge of her lips. “Carla, I’m going crazy without you. I want you to marry me. I want to share my life with you, because heaven knows I can’t take much more of this.”
Carla’s eyes shot open. “How can you talk about marriage?” she asked, struggling to break free of his hold.
“It’s the normal process when two people feel as strongly about one another as we do.”
“But I don’t want to love you,” she cried. “When my husband leaves for work in the morning, I don’t want to worry about him risking his life on the streets of the city.”
“Carla—”
“And when he comes home at night, I don’t want him to drag his job with him. I want a husband, not a hero—”
His mouth intercepted her words, muffling them until she surrendered to his kisses, arousing her until she clung to him, seeking a deeper fulfillment. “Kissing me won’t settle a thing,” she murmured, breaking free with her last reserves of strength.
“I know, but it keeps you from arguing.”
“When you’re holding me like this,” she admitted shyly, “there’s not much fight in me.”
“Good. All I need to do for the next seventy years is keep you at my side. Agree, and I’ll whisk you to a preacher so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m in love.” His hands were linked at the small of her back and slipped over her buttocks, arching her backside, lifting her up to meet his descending mouth. The kiss was shattering.
“Can we talk now?” Every minute in his arms made it more difficult to think clearly.
“Okay, explain what happened yesterday,” he said, as they sat in the living room. “Why wouldn’t you talk to me last night?”
“I already told you why,” she said, and exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to be like my mother.”
“Carla.” Philip captured both her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re who you are, and I’m me. Together, we’ll never be like anyone else.”
Carla bowed her head, and her lashes fluttered until they closed completely. “Mom and I are a lot alike. You’ll understand that when you meet her later. But she’s weak and afraid and never says what she’s really thinking. And, Philip, I’m trying so hard to be different.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you wouldn’t talk to me.”
Carla swallowed uncomfortably. “Mom called just before you did, and everything she said reminded me how unhappy she’s been all these years.”
“Ah,” Philip said, and nodded thoughtfully. “And the note to Nancy?”
“I…I was thinking that if you assumed I was still dating Cliff, you’d give up on me.”
He tucked his index finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “I think there’s something you’d better understand. I’m not giving up on you. Never. I love you, Carla.”
“But loving someone doesn’t make everything right,” she argued. “We’re different in so many ways.”
“I don’t see it like that. We complement each other. And although it seems like I’m the one who’s asking you to make all the changes, I’m not. When we’re married, I promise that you and our family will be my first priority. Nothing will ever mean more to me than you.”
“Oh Philip.” She felt herself weakening. “But it’s more than that.”
“I know, love.” Slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers, he pulled her toward him. His mouth sought her lips, exploring their softness as if he would never get enough of the feel of her.
“Philip,” she groaned, her voice ragged. “We have to leave now for my mother’s.”
“Your mother’s,” he repeated, as if he needed something to bring him back from the brink.
“You’ll be meeting my dad,” she said softly, teasing his neck and ear with small, biting kisses.
* * *
—
“Mom and Dad, I’d like to introduce Philip Garrison.” Carla stood just inside her parents’ living room. “Philip, my mom and dad, Joe and Rachel Walker.”
Joe stepped forward and shook Philip’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Philip.”
Carla felt the faint stirrings of pride. Her father, although graying, was in top physical condition. Over the years he hadn’t lost the lean, military look of his younger days. Intuitively, Carla knew that in twenty years Philip wouldn’t, either.
“It’s a pleasure to have you join us,” Rachel added warmly. “Carla said you live in Spokane.”
“Yes, I flew in this afternoon.”
The four of them sat in the large living room, and Philip immediately took Carla’s hand in his. The action didn’t go unnoticed by either of her parents. Rachel’s blue eyes sought Carla’s, and she gave her daughter a small wink, indicating that she approved of this young man. Maybe Carla should have been pleased, but she wasn’t. Having her family like Philip would only complicate her feelings.
“And when will you be leaving?”
Carla was as interested in his answer to her parents. “Tonight. I’d like to stay longer, but I’m on duty tomorrow morning.”
“Carla said that you two met in Mazatlán.”
“Yes, the first day she arrived.” Philip looked at Carla, and his dark eyes flickered with barely concealed amusement.
Her eyes widened, silently warning him not to mention how they’d met. Then, flustered, she cleared her throat and said, “Philip helped me out with my Spanish.”
“You speak Spanish?” Joe asked, but his narrowed gaze studied Carla. Her father was too observant not to recognize that there was a lot going unsaid about her meeting with Philip. Fortunately, he decided not to pursue the subject.
Rachel glanced at her gold wristwatch. “Excuse me a minute.”
“Can I help, Mom?” Carla asked, and uncrossed her long legs.
“No, everything’s ready, I just want to check the corn. Your father’s barbecuing chicken tonight.”
“You’re in for a treat,” Carla told Philip proudly. “I’ve been telling Dad for years that when he retires he should open a restaurant. He makes a barbecue sauce that’s out of this world.”
“It’s an old family recipe that’s been handed down for generations.”
“He got it out of a Betty Crocker cookbook,” Carla whispered, grinning. Then, before her father could open his mouth, she stood. “I’ll see what I can do to give Mom a hand.” Although her mother had refused her offer, there was undoubtedly something she could do to help.
Rachel was taking a large bowl of potato salad from the refrigerator when Carla came through the swinging kitchen doors. “I like your young man,” she announced without preamble.
Carla couldn’t hold her mother’s gaze. She should have been surprised; Rachel had disapproved of most of the men Carla dated. Her excuses were usually lame ones—this boy was careless; another boy was lazy. By the time Carla moved out, she had stopped introducing her dates to her parents. Somehow, though, she’d known her mother would approve of Philip.
“He’s clean-cut, polite, and he has a nice smile.”
Carla bit into a sweet pickle from the relish tray. “And his eyes are the most incredible gray. Did you notice that?” Naturally, they wouldn’t discuss any of the important aspects of her relationship with Philip.
“You two make a nice couple.”
“Thank you,” Carla answered with a hint of impatience. She opened the silverware drawer and counted out forks and spoons. “I’ll set the table.”
Philip was holding a beer, watching her father baste the chicken with a thick coating of pungent sauce, when Carla joined them on the sunny patio. He slipped an arm over her shoulders. His thumb made lazy, sensuous forays at the base of her neck.
Annoyed, she shrugged, and Philip dropped his hand to her waist. She didn’t want him to make this kind of blanket statement to her family about their relationship. He was serious about her, but she had yet to deal with her feelings about him. When she stepped free of his hold, Philip firmly but gently cupped her shoulder.
“Philip,” she said in an irritated whisper. “Please don’t.”
His eyes sparkled as he leaned toward her. “I told your father outright that I’m going to marry you.”
“You didn’t!” she cried in angry frustration.
Joe turned aside from the barbecue. “Hand me a spoon, would you, Carla?” he requested, and his gaze followed her as she moved to the picnic table and brought back a spoon. “Problems, Princess?”
“No.” She shook her head, the red curls bouncing with the action. “I’m just sorry that Philip made it look like we’re more serious than we are.”
“He was rather forthright in his feelings.”
Carla swallowed. “I know.”
“But aren’t you sure?”
“I won’t marry a cop.” Years of self-discipline masked any physical reaction from her father.
“I can’t say I blame you for that,” he said after a long moment. Some of the brightness faded from his eyes as he concentrated on his task.
“I love you, Dad, you know that. But I won’t live the life Mom has.”
With practiced skill, he turned the chicken over with a pair of tongs. “She’s never complained.”
“Oh Dad,” Carla said with a rush of inner sadness. She respected and admired her father and had never thought of him as oblivious of the stress his career had placed on their family. “Are you really so blind?”
His mouth tightened, and the look he gave her was piercing. “I said she’s never complained. It takes a special kind of woman to love a man like me.”
Carla lifted her gaze to Philip, who was examining the meticulously kept flowerbeds, and her father’s words echoed in her mind. Carla didn’t know if she could ever be that special kind of woman.
Rachel appeared at the sliding glass door. “Carla, would you help me carry out the salads?”
“Sure, Mom.” Carla followed her mother into the kitchen.
Rachel stuck a serving spoon in the potato salad, handed it to Carla, and turned away. “Philip mentioned that he had to be back tomorrow because he’s on duty. You did say he was a doctor, didn’t you?” Her voice was unnaturally high, and her hands were busily working around the sink.
“No, Mom.” She’d wondered how long it would take for her mother to pick up on that. “Philip’s a police officer.”
A glass fell against the aluminum sink and shattered into little pieces. Rachel ignored it as she turned, her face suddenly waxen. “Oh Carla, no.”
Chapter 8
“Your flight will be boarding in a minute.” Carla stood stiffly in the area outside of airport security. The lump in her throat was making it hard for her to talk. The crazy part was that she didn’t want Philip to leave, and at the same time she couldn’t bear to have him stay.
The meal with her parents had been an ordeal. As she had suspected, Philip and her father had gotten on like soul mates. They were alike in more ways than Carla had first suspected. Their personalities, ideas, and thoughts meshed as if they were father and son.
Rachel had remained subdued during most of the meal. Later, when Carla had helped clear the picnic table and load the dishwasher, a strained tension had existed between them. Her mother had asked a few polite questions about Philip, which Carla had answered in the same cordial tone.
“I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to become too serious with this young man,” Rachel said as they were finishing. Her casual attitude didn’t fool Carla.
Fleetingly, Carla wondered what reason her mother would give. Philip wasn’t the careless type, and even the most casual observer could see he wasn’t lazy. She was bound to say everything but what was really on her mind.
“Why not?” Carla implored. “I thought you said you liked him.”
“I do,” Rachel replied quickly, in a defensive tone. “But he’s too much like your father, and I’ll love that man to my death.” The poignant softness of Rachel’s voice cracked the thin wall that stood between mother and daughter.
“And you,” Rachel continued with a wry grin, “are too much like me: vulnerable, sensitive, tenderhearted. Our emotions run high, and when we love, we love with a fervor. Philip could hurt you, Princess.”
Her mother so rarely called her by that affectionate term that Carla lifted her head in surprise.
“There are plenty of men in this world who will make life a thousand times easier for you than someone involved in law enforcement.”
“But you married Dad,” Carla argued, studying her mother intently. This was as close as they had ever come to an open conversation.
“Your father joined the force after we were married.”
“I…I didn’t know that.”
“Something else you may not know is that Joe and I separated for a time before you were born.”
Shocked, Carla’s mouth dropped open. “You and Dad?”
Rachel busily wiped off the kitchen counter, then rinsed out the rag under the running faucet. “There are certain qualities a policeman’s wife should have. I…I’ve never been the right woman—” She stopped in mid-sentence as Philip and Joe sauntered into the kitchen.
Mother and daughter had been unable to finish the conversation, but Carla had felt a closeness with her mother she had never experienced. She realized now that they had always been too much alike to appreciate each other.
* * *
—
“Carla?”
Philip’s voice brought her back to the present, and to the reality of his leaving.
“You’re looking thoughtful.” His fingers caressed the gentle slope of her neck, trailing down her shoulder. “I expect a kiss good-bye, one that will hold me until I see you again.”
A smile briefly touched Carla’s eyes. “I don’t think that kind of kissing is allowed in public places.”
“I don’t care.” His voice was low and husky as he ran his hands up and down the length of her silken arms. “Seeing each other again has only made things worse, hasn’t it?”
“No,” she denied instantly. “I think it’s been good for us both.”
“Good and bad,” he growled, and the frustration and longing in his eyes deepened. “Good, because holding you lessens the ache I feel when we’re apart.” His hands gripped the back of her collar, bringing her closer into his embrace. “And bad, because I don’t know how much longer it’ll be before I hold you again.”
Their gazes met and held, and Carla felt as if she were suffocating. His eyes, steel-gray and narrowed, slowed the torment within him, and Carla realized hers were filled with doubt. Her lips started quivering, and she pressed them tightly together.
Philip’s hands tightened on Carla’s blouse, and he dipped his head forward so that their foreheads touched. “I hate this.”
Her arms slid around his waist, and she pressed her face to his shirt. “I do, too.” Her voice was scratchy and unnaturally high as she swallowed hard, determined to be strong. “You should go,” she said, and gave him a brave smile.
“Not until the last minute. Not until I have to.” His voice wasn’t any more controlled than her own. “Carla”—he breathed in deeply—“I want to do everything right for you. You need me to be patient and wait; then I’ll do that.”
“Oh…Ph…Philip. How can you love me? I’m so wrong for you.”
“No one has ever been more right,” he insisted, his words muffled against her hair. “I love you, and someday we’ll have beautiful redheaded children.”
“With warm gray eyes.”
“Tall,” he added.
“Naturally,” she said, and offered him a shaky smile.
“Does this mean that you’ve reconsidered and will marry me? Because let me warn you: If it does, I’ll make the arrangements tomorrow.”
She couldn’t answer him. Something deep and dark in her soul wouldn’t allow her to speak. Instead, she blinked her eyes in an effort to hold back the emotion that threatened to overtake her.
Disappointment, regret, pain, and several other emotions Carla couldn’t name played across Philip’s face.
“Soon?” he asked in a whisper.
Carla forced a smile. “Maybe.”
“That’s good enough for now. Just make it soon, my love. Make it very soon.”
Philip waited until the very last minute before going through security. Carla waited, and once he was through, he tossed an impatient glare over his shoulder and disappeared down the corridor, rushing to make his flight. His kiss had been short but ardent. As she watched him go, Carla pressed four fingers to her lips and closed her eyes.
She didn’t leave the terminal until the plane was out of sight and her tears had dried. Her spirits were at an all-time low as she headed to the airport parking lot, fighting back questions that tormented her from all sides.
