A Kiss Too Late

“This place is where I first kissed you,” he murmured. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I do,” she said reluctantly. “But I never thought you remembered.”

“You were, what, seventeen? I considered you much too young for me, but you seemed determined to show me otherwise.”

Poignant memories drifted over her, but she resisted them as best she could. “What’s the point, Adam? It was all so long ago.”

Sunlight glimmered down through the leaves, and a breeze from the ocean stirred the branches. Adam crossed to Jen, a look of purpose in his eyes. She pressed back against the tree trunk, feeling the scratch of bark through the thin material of her blouse. Adam was standing very close to her now. He raised his hand and gently, experimentally, ran his thumb over the tender surface of her lips. Jen caught her breath at his touch. She felt herself trembling, and she couldn’t move away from him.

“Do you remember when I first made love to you?” he asked, his voice husky.

Her eyelids drifted downward as he continued his light, seductive caress. But he was seducing her most of all with words and with those memories. Oh, she’d been crazy for him. Nineteen years old, and it had seemed to her she’d been saving herself all her life for Adam. She’d been so impatient to have him, and he’d taught her well the secrets of her own body. Too well….

“When I made love to you in New York, it was like the first time, wasn’t it, Jen?”

It had been better than the first time, that was the worst of it. In New York, she’d brought to Adam all the experience he himself had given her. Their passion had been all the more intense for its familiarity. But she needed more from a man than physical passion. Far more.

She slipped away from him, furious at the tears pricking her eyelids. “Don’t do this, Adam,” she said, her voice shaking. She glanced away from him. They stood together among the trees, and Jen realized she would never find any neutral territory here. Her “no-man’s land” was an illusion. In Newport she would always be haunted by all the poignant memories of her time with Adam–the man she had once loved so desperately.

“Leave it alone, Adam,” she said tautly, wishing she could return to New York this very instant.

Instead, all she could do was retreat to the house where she’d never truly felt at home.

* * *

THERE WERE MANSIONS in Newport far grander even than the house where Jen had grown up. Tonight, for instance, she found herself wandering reluctantly about the spectacular edifice known as Hampton Court. Light from the chandeliers glittered on the marble fireplaces and gilded mirrors of the ballroom, and the ceiling frescoes and the carved wall panels only added to the atmosphere of exuberant Victorian excess. A hundred years ago, a wealthy society matron named Alda Hampton had thrown lavish parties here in her efforts to outdo other wealthy society matrons. This evening’s gathering was an echo of those splendid affairs. The house now belonged to friends of Jen’s mother, and they’d spared no expense in celebrating her impending marriage. At one end of the room, a chamber orchestra played on a dais. At the other end, tables had been laden with every variety of seafood: lobster, crab cakes, shrimp bisque, stuffed clams.

Jen continued to wander on the outskirts of the party, sipping a glass of champagne. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize. She preferred smaller, more intimate gatherings, not large groups like this. But she knew that her uneasy mood couldn’t entirely be blamed on the noise and chatter that surrounded her. The way Adam kept getting under her skin was what really vexed her.

At this very moment Adam was nearby, sharing a conversation with a group of people. As if sensing her gaze, he turned and glanced at her. It seemed to her that even from this distance, she could see a hint of mockery in his dark eyes. She couldn’t look away. One glance, and he had captured her. Her fingers tightened around the glass of champagne. But the fizz of warmth through her body had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Having a good time, dear?” Beth Hillard appeared at Jen’s elbow, her gaze assessing.

Jen finally dragged her eyes away from Adam’s. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mother. This is your celebration. Have fun.”

“Yes, it’s so pleasant to have an unexpected party like this.” Beth was her usual immaculate self, hair perfectly waved, makeup expertly applied. Now she glanced about the crowded room with an air of contentment. “Ah, there’s Adam,” she said in a too-innocent voice. “He looks particularly dashing tonight.”

Unfortunately Jen found that she agreed. Adam’s masculine, broad-shouldered frame looked especially attractive in the slate gray jacket he wore. And no matter how restrained his outward demeanor, he conveyed a sense of energy coiled underneath. His vitality seemed to draw Jen even from here. She turned so that she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Mother, I wish you and I could talk about something besides Adam.”

Beth gave her daughter a disapproving glare. “You’re not giving him a chance. I’m quite certain he wishes a reconciliation with you–whether or not he realizes it.”

Trust Beth to disregard reality completely. Still, Jen couldn’t help glancing at Adam again. By now a few couples were dancing, and Adam was among them. He was executing a waltz with a striking blonde Jenna didn’t know. She tried to ignore her immediate, instinctive discomfort at the sight. Let Adam Prescott dance with all the blondes he liked!

Jen’s mother became distracted by the approach of several friends, and Jen was able to slip out onto the terrace. Leaning against the balustrade, she gazed at the ocean. The evening had deepened into night, and the line between water and sky was barely perceptible. The noise of the party was subdued out here, and Jen tried to lose herself in the sweet, humid fragrance of the air.

“You have a habit of running away, Jenny.”

She stiffened at the sound of Adam’s voice and went on staring at the ocean. The stone balustrade was cool against her hand, and she tried to focus on that sensation rather than Adam’s nearness. “I’m not running away. I just don’t like this type of party. So many people…”

“So many of the wrong people, you mean,” he said, coming to lean next to her.

In some ways, Adam knew her very well. Too well. “I’ve never really belonged in this world,” she said, gesturing to include the ornate mansion and the expansive grounds that swept down to the bluff. “Everything’s on such a grandiose scale. I prefer things small and manageable. I’d rather look at one single wild rose than acres of garden flowers. But you belong in this world, Adam. You’re very comfortable in it.”

“And that gives you one more reason to despise me,” he said. The light spilling from the ballroom revealed the hard lines of his face.

“I don’t despise you,” she answered. “Believe it or not, I’ve gone on with my life. I haven’t spent every minute thinking about you.” That wasn’t entirely the truth. Jen had spent a lot of time over the past year thinking about Adam.

He studied her intently. “Tell me about this life of yours in New York City.”

She stiffened again. She’d never told Adam about her secret dreams, knowing instinctively he would dismiss them as absurd and farfetched. She knew how farfetched they were. She didn’t need a dose of Adam’s cynical realism.

“I’m happy,” she said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“From what I can tell, you’ve carved out a lonely place for yourself. Is that how you want it? No family around, no kids…”

She set her glass down on the balustrade, the champagne no longer enticing her. “I can see where this is headed. But I had good reasons for not wanting children while we were married. Dammit, Adam, you were never around. You didn’t have any time for me, let alone a baby.”

“We could have worked it out. I would have made adjustments–”

“No. You wouldn’t have. You refused to change for me. Would a child really have made the difference?” She took a deep breath, struggling to calm herself. It dismayed her that Adam could still provoke her emotions so easily.

“Be straight, Jen,” he muttered. “It wasn’t just about my working too much. You always behaved as if you’d be jealous of any child we’d have–as if you’d resent my giving attention to someone else.”

Turmoil churned inside Jen as she gazed at him. “Maybe if you’d really been in love with me, maybe then I wouldn’t have been afraid children would come between us.”

“Your idea of love is completely unrealistic.” Adam sounded impatient. “You expected us to be enthralled with each other twenty-four hours a day. But marriage should be a partnership, not a ticket on an emotional merry-go-round.”

“Well put,” she said caustically. “Except that I’m no longer asking you to be enthralled. You’re off the merry-go-round. You’re free.”

“It’s not as simple as that.” Adam stepped closer and drew her into his arms. Startled, she placed her hands against his chest and frowned at him in the glimmering light from the ballroom.

“Don’t do this…”

“We’ve proved that at least one thing is right between us. Very right, Jenny.”

His touch was dangerous, sparking memories of all their secret, impassioned hours together throughout the years. “It’s not enough,” she said, her voice unsteady.

Adam didn’t answer. He and Jen stood clasped together in the shadows. As the music drifted out from the ballroom, he moved her into a dance. They swayed together, and she found her cheek nestled against his chest, certainly a deterrent to rational thought. They had always danced well together, moving so naturally in each other’s arms, and tonight was no different. She trailed her hands up over his shoulders, raising her face toward his as if she possessed no will of her own.

She trembled in his arms, alive to his touch, and knew she had to do anything she could to break the spell between them. “Adam…there’s something you should realize,” she said. “My mother wants to get us back together. Let’s not make her think she’s succeeding.”

He drew Jen even closer. “Your mother has nothing to do with this,” he said.

“She’s up to something, I tell you.”

Adam wouldn’t listen, and against her own will, Jen relaxed deeper into his arms. The pounding of the ocean against the shore seemed to grow louder, until she could almost feel the rhythmic throbbing of the waves–or was that simply Adam’s heartbeat next to hers? It was difficult to tell where one sound began and the other left off. And then she realized that the music had ceased entirely. In fact, an expectant sort of silence seemed to weight the air. From the direction of the ballroom, someone gave a discreet cough.