Jennifer Greene: Sunburst

Morgan hesitated, swirling the wine in his glass. “The business is going terrific, if you can believe that in these economic times. We’ve been checking out markets in Milwaukee, Chicago, any number of-”

“You know darn well I don’t mean that,” she chided. “What about Marissa?”

“My God, I haven’t seen you in a long time,” he said dryly as he took a long drink of the wine.

“So you’ve taken up the hunt again?” Erica shook her head, feeling a mixture of sympathy and exasperation with him. “I thought you were almost talking rings a few months ago.”

Morgan shifted to a standing position and poured them both a second glass of wine. When he turned back to Erica the teasing was gone from his eyes and he looked tired, the crow’s-feet prominent at the corners of his eyes. “There’s not much point in getting married when the chances of divorce are edging toward fifty percent, now, is there?” he asked idly. “My married friends aren’t exactly advertisements for wedded bliss-you two are the only exception. At times I don’t know what I’d do without the pair of you. Since you moved, I’ve felt as if my oasis has been ripped out from under me; your home was the only place I could go to get out of the rat race.” He laughed shortly. “Sometimes I’ve wondered, Erica, if you offer everyone the chance to pour out their troubles to you, or is it just me?”

“Trouble, Morgan?” she asked gently. The brooding quality in his voice immediately aroused her maternal instinct. She had no doubt that across a boardroom Morgan was a solid and ruthless adversary, but when he came to stay with them he always had a stray-cat quality. His life was one long howl at night, with lonely silences in between. He always picked women who were takers, as he was, but Erica had the unaccountable notion that a single long stroke down his back would soothe the ruffled fur that seemed a by-product of his frantic lifestyle.

“I look at you and Kyle,” he said frankly, “and I’m jealous. I’ve always been jealous. The way Kyle just picked up and moved, chucked everything on a whim. I wouldn’t choose this lifestyle, but that’s not the point. It’s the inner freedom, the courage to just get out and do it. Change. Even if it’s only short term.”

Erica half frowned. Neither freedom nor choice had motivated their move to Wisconsin. Nor were they engaged in a “hobby.” It had never occurred to her before that Kyle hadn’t told his closest friend the real circumstances following Joel’s death. But before she could say anything, Morgan was rambling on. “I’ve been tied to the business ever since I got out of school, and there are times I’d just like to say to hell with it.”

“Morgan,” Erica said gently, “you have so much to be proud of. You’re a lot younger than your father was when he-”

“Yes. I’m a huge success, money-wise,” he said dryly. “And money buys a lot of toys. In the short run, it buys a lot of women as well.”

She was silent, not so much shocked as saddened by his attitude-for his sake.

“Who’s kidding whom? That’s the life I lead,” he admitted quietly, and looked at her, his features impassive. “But women like you aren’t just walking around, love.”

“Sweetie,” she said affectionately. His compliment, so out of the blue, had warmed her. More than that, she simply wanted to help Morgan if he needed help. But she also felt a strange sort of unease. Where was Kyle? She stood up and teasingly ordered Morgan ahead of her toward the kitchen. “What kind of lady do you expect to pick up in a singles bar anyway?”

If Kyle had been there, she wouldn’t have hesitated to remain sitting with Morgan, to reach over and hug him, to urge him to talk and get his troubles off his chest. But Kyle wasn’t there, and Morgan’s eyes on her had been just a little more than friendly, more than just superficially appreciative. She felt a touch of guilt. It felt good to be wanted, to feel needed-and perhaps she needed that a bit too much right now, when Kyle seemed to be going out of his way to tell her he didn’t need her, when in her heart she was afraid he didn’t want her as he once had.

When Kyle walked in, Morgan was putting foil on the broiler for the steaks. Fresh mushrooms were simmering in soy sauce; the table had been set with china Erica hadn’t used in months, and the second bottle of wine was on the table ready for pouring. In the past hour, Erica had turned all her attention toward urging Morgan out of his depression, and in the process had cheered herself. Candles on the table and a chance to dress up were part of that; for weeks she and Kyle had only snatched a bite in work clothes.

Her laughter was low and musical as she teased Morgan about his fastidious efforts in the kitchen, the effect of his elegant suit spoiled by the towel she’d given him to wear as an apron. When the front door opened, they were both hovering over the stove, with the bright lights of the kitchen haloing them in a little island of light.

Kyle stopped short, for a moment saying nothing, his eyes riveted on the two of them. There was a bag labeled McDonald’s in his hand.

He was in shadow with the sunset behind him, his black hair disheveled. Erica set down her fork with a clatter as she hurried down the three steps to the darkened living room and gave him a brilliant smile. There was only Kyle for that moment, as she went to him anticipating the change of mood that he, too, needed; anticipating his pleasure at seeing Morgan after so long; anticipating, in the most feminine ways, being with him again. It wasn’t that Morgan suddenly didn’t exist, that he shriveled in some imaginary way, that he was any less pleasant company, less good-looking, less fun to be with…but he was lesser, somehow. It was the weary man standing in the doorway, unmoving as she approached, for whom she felt an automatic, unstoppable surge of love.

She bounced up on tiptoe and curled her arms around his neck…yet the greeting kiss somehow ended differently than she had intended. Kyle’s lips were cool and his eyes unreadable above hers, though for one instant his grip on her shoulders was so possessively tight that it hurt. He was looking past her, toward Morgan… Her smile suddenly froze on her face. She didn’t try to understand his reaction; she was too busy handling her own. Not long ago he had welcomed her touch, openly courted her affectionate nature…

She buried the flicker of hurt. Two glasses of wine had muted that unnameable fear that he was tiring of her, that he no longer loved her. Pride insisted that she play it as normal. As she wanted it to be. She kept an arm around Kyle’s narrow waist as they walked back up to the kitchen, reminding herself that he’d told her once she could not have looked sexier in that dress, and he had always loved her barefoot…

“Looks as if we won’t be needing this,” Kyle said dryly as he extricated himself from her embrace and set the McDonald’s bag on the counter. “And it looks as if you two have been entertaining yourselves while I’ve been gone. Morgan-” The handshake was quick and automatic, Kyle’s blue eyes bearing down on Morgan’s brown ones with a strange deliberateness. “I’ve been expecting you, for some unknown reason. Actually, long before this. How’ve you been?”

“In trouble, regularly. You?”

“Morgan brought the steaks,” Erica explained, feeling a sudden niggling worry that Kyle might have seen the fancy dinner and her dressy attire as efforts on her part to please Morgan. She appreciated the gesture of the McDonald’s takeout supper more than she would have caviar; it was an acknowledgment that they were both sharing twelve-hour workdays. The worry passed. Morgan was Kyle’s closest friend; Kyle could not possibly misunderstand. “You’re just in time,” she said brightly.