you? I said, I can’t talk about it. ”
Stunned by the rage and pain raw in his voice, Fiona
turned and blindly reached for the door latch.
“God. I’m sorry.” He reached her before she could
lift the latch, turning her.
Without thinking of the illogic, the foolishness, she
clumsily wrapped her arms around him as he did the
same to her. They stood in the dark, John absorbing her
shivers, doing nothing but holding her and saying, over
and over again, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled against his chest. “You
were right, I didn’t listen.”
“You’re the only person who has.”
“I knew you wanted to be alone.”
He made an odd sound, almost a groan. “No. I think
I wanted you to follow me. Then when you did… God,”
he said again.
“You’re not one of my students. I should mind my own
business.” But she didn’t want to. And she sensed that
John Fallon needed someone to intrude on his isolation.
“You’re freezing.” He tightened his arms.
“No,” she whispered. “You’re warm.”
“Fiona?”
She tilted her head back. “Yes?”
He kissed her, the mouth so often compressed in
pain gentle on hers, asking, not demanding. His lips
were cold for the first moment, then warmed. She
sighed and parted hers.
This sound was definitely a groan. Between one
instant and the next, the kiss changed from tentative to
wild, hungry, frantic. One of his hands gripped her
buttock and lifted her against him as his mouth ravaged
hers. Her thoughts blurred, only one having definition:
this was why she’d followed him out onto the porch.
She’d kept pushing so that he would kiss her.
He was the one to break it off. When he lifted his
mouth from hers, Fiona sucked in a breath that she’d
forgotten she needed.
John sounded hoarse. “The kids’ll come looking for
us.”
The kids. She’d forgotten them. Oh Lord, she
thought, stunned. If John had ripped off her clothes, she
would have let him despite the cold, despite the teenagers just inside. What if Willow had opened the door and seen them fall apart in confusion and guilt?
“Yes.” She tried to pull herself together. “I’d better
go back in.”
Did she look as if she’d just been passionately
kissed? Or would the teenagers assume her cheeks were
red from the cold?
What made her think they’d even look at her?
His hands fell away from her. “We’ll both go in.”
“Yes. Okay.” Somehow her arms had come to be
hanging at her sides. She sounded shell-shocked, then
scrambled in her mind for another word. The irony was
too great. She had no real idea what it was like to be
shell-shocked. What she was, was overwhelmed, caught
off guard. Jolted.
While he, she couldn’t help noticing, now sounded
remarkably calm.
Reaching around her, he lifted the latch and opened
the massive door. His other hand on her back, he urged
her inside.
Without pausing in the hacky-sack game, Hopper
asked, “What were you guys doing outside? It’s cold out
there. Or didn’t you notice?”
“We noticed,” Fiona heard herself say. “But how else
can we get away from all of you?”
Hopper laughed, as if she were a comic.
“Hey, Kelli was looking for you.” Troy headed the
hacky-sack, forcing Hopper to lunge to catch it with his
foot before it hit the floor.
Wasn’t soccer popular in Iraq? Had something
happened at a game there that John had seen?
She started to turn to him, but he was walking away
toward the kitchen, his limp noticeable. Fiona felt inexplicably chilled.
For the kids’ benefit, she forced a smile. “I’ll go find
her.”
But she wouldn’t follow John to the kitchen.
Fortunately Kelli was upstairs with Tabitha and had
forgotten what she wanted.
“No, I remember. I was hoping my jeans are in the
dryer.”
“Uh…” Fiona was blank. “I don’t know. I was just
throwing wet stuff in. I’ll bet the load is dry by now.
Would you two mind folding it? And putting the stuff