Gwynne Forster - Sealed With a Kiss

He ignored the outrage that he saw in her reproachful eyes and went on. “You and I want each other, Naomi. Don’t doubt it for a minute; we want to make love to each other. I confess that making love with you was one of the first thoughts I had when I met you. But I told myself then, and I’m telling you now, that I don’t intend to do one thing about it. You and I would be poison together.”

Naomi was a worthy adversary, he recalled at once. “Of course you aren’t going to do anything about it,” she purred, “because I won’t let you. As for me wanting you, let me tell you how much weight you can put on that. I saw a beautiful pair of green leather slippers in Garfinkel’s not long ago, and I wanted them badly. They were the perfect complement to something I had just bought. I took a taxi all the way back up here to Bethesda at a cost of twenty dollars, got my credit card, taxied back, and would you believe those shoes were gone? You know what I did? I shrugged my shoulders and bought a pair of royal blue ones that didn’t match a thing I owned. When I left the store, I was perfectly happy. Nothing gets the better of me, Rufus. Believe me, nothing!” He disliked her facetious grin. “So you’re right; there’s no need to make a big deal out of it,” she went on, her quivering lips belying her tough words. “You’ll find another one—darker or lighter, taller or shorter, but with the same basic equipment—and you’ll be just as happy.”

He shook his head in amazement. “I don’t believe you said that.” His blood pounded in his ears when she crossed her knees and let her right shoe slip off as she did so, revealing a flawless size nine foot with its perfectly shaped red toenails. His couldn’t take his eyes from her.

He swore softly. “You’d drive me insane if I spent much time around you. Stop acting,” he growled in a velvet soft voice. “You’re as vulnerable to me as I am to you.” He told himself to cool off. “We have to have a meeting Tuesday or Wednesday. Which would you prefer?”

“Neither.” His impatient glance provoked a hesitant explanation. “I tutor at One Last Chance in the afternoon of both days this week, and I can’t disappoint this girl; she has a lot of problems, and she’s known very little caring. The night you saw her with me, she showed me an excellent drawing that she had done with crayons; it was wonderful. She just needs guidance.”

“Then you believe she has talent for art?”

“Yes, but I’m not tutoring her in art. I’m helping her with math and English.”

“What’s the girl’s name?” He wondered if now was the time. Her feelings for this girl aroused his curiosity and his suspicions, too, he realized.

“Linda.”

Rufus hesitated, aware of a primitive protectiveness toward her, fearful of hurting her. “Naomi. If I’m wrong here, tell me. I get the impression that you have a special connection with this girl, that you have deeper feelings for her than for the others at OLC. And my instincts say that your concern for her has a personal basis.” He watched as she readied herself to divert him.

“Really, Rufus, what could have made you think such a thing?”

“I realize that you were tutoring her in English, but I didn’t know that you were qualified to teach math as well. What level?”

“She’s in her last year of junior high. I taught those subjects in high school for four years.”

“Why did you give it up?” Naomi was a complex person, he was beginning to understand, and the more he saw of her, the more he wanted to see. He leaned back against the deeply cushioned brown velvet sofa, watching her intently.

“I never wanted to teach, but Grandpa would pay for my education only if I studied to be a teacher. Teaching is the proper work for girls of my class, he told me a thousand times. I did as he wanted, same as everybody else always does, and I taught until I’d saved enough money to study for a degree in fine art. He hasn’t forgiven me for it, but, well, he’s done some things that I haven’t been able to forgive him for.” He nodded, letting her know that he sympathized with her, then lifted his wrists and glanced at his watch.

“I’ve got to get home; I told Jewel I’d be there by nine.” He hesitated to leave. “How did you get involved with One Last Chance?”

He pondered the reasons she might have for taking so much time to answer. “I saw the need for it. I’m one of its founders. Who’s Jewel?” On to another topic, was she? The tactic neither fooled nor amused him.

From Naomi’s reaction, he realized that his grin had been mocking rather than disarming, as he had intended. “Jewel’s my baby sister. Why? Are you jealous?” He couldn’t resist the taunt; it was the second bit of concrete evidence she’d given him that her interest was more than casual and his attraction for her more than physical. Yet he doubted that she would ever own up to it.

Her studied smirk as she slanted her head, tipped up her nose, and peered at him had all the arrogance that any crowned European could have mustered. It was admirable. What a gal!

“Well?” he baited.

“Put all your money on it,” she bantered, with a brief pause that he knew was for effect, “and then see your lawyer about filing for bankruptcy.” He smiled, enjoying the teasing.

“You’d be fun if you’d just forget about sex,” she told him, referring to his comment about their heated kiss.

He knew she meant to provoke him, but instead of indulging her, he quipped: “Forget about sex? Sweetheart, that is one thing I’ll remember even after I’m buried.”

His seductive wink, a mesmerizing slow sweep of his left eye, was aimed to strip her of any pretense about her feelings. And for the moment, it did. He held his breath when she dusted a speck of lint from the lapel of his jacket, pushed the handkerchief further down in his breast pocket, and rubbed a speck of nothing from his chin. The expression in her eyes nearly unglued him, but he kept his countenance and satisfied himself with a brush of his fingers across her cheek. He was unprepared for the warmth that quickly enveloped them and for the sweet, mutual contentment that they had not previously experienced together. Wordlessly, they walked to her door and stood there looking at each other, comfortable with the tension, with their desire in check. Simultaneously they reached out to each other, but didn’t touch and withdrew as one, as if it had been choreographed. He sucked in his breath and left without a word.

The rooms appeared to have grown larger after he left her, and her beloved apartment seemed cold and unfriendly. Her footsteps echoed along the short, tiled hallway. Strange, but she had never noticed that before. A restlessness suffused her. She reached for the telephone, then dropped her hand. So this was loneliness. This was what it was like to miss a man. She had to stop it now. Maybe it was already too late. She didn’t think she had the strength to face exposure, certainly not his rejection. Rufus already meant too much to her, had too prominent a place in her life, and she couldn’t bear his scorn if he ever knew about her past. One Last Chance was important to her, but if she couldn’t get Rufus out of her life any other way, she would have no choice but to leave it, to walk away from the most satisfying thing in her world other than her work. He was right; she had wanted him desperately. She still did. But if she walked away from him, away from the sweet and terrible hunger that he stirred in her, away from the promise of love in his arms… She went to bed trying not to think about Rufus and fell asleep imagining the ultimate joy that he could give her.

The next morning Naomi got up at six-thirty, unable to sleep longer, and phoned her grandfather.