“What I mean,” she said, speaking with care, “is that there’s no one here to know what our arrangements are. We wouldn’t have to explain anything...” Her words stuttered to a halt. “Don’t look at me that way,” she whispered.
Chase shut the door, his eyes locked on hers. “Do you want to make love?”
The directness of the question stole her breath away. She shook her head. “No! I didn’t say—”
“I want you, Annie.”
His voice was rough and his face seemed to have taken on an angularity, but she knew what she was really seeing was desire. She knew, because this was how he’d looked, years ago, when their need for each other had been an unquenchable thirst. They’d be talking, or just sitting and reading or watching TV, and suddenly she’d feel a stillness in the air. And she’d look up, and Chase would be watching her, and what she saw in his eyes would make her breasts swell so that she’d feel the scrape of her bra against her nipples, feel the dampness bloom between her thighs...
“Babe,” he said thickly, “I want you so much I can’t think straight.”
It seemed to take forever before she could draw enough strength to answer.
“We can’t,” she said, in a voice that sounded like a stranger’s.
“Why? We’re adults. Who is it going to hurt, if we do what we both want to do?”
Me, she’d thought, me, Chase, because if I go to bed with you, I’ll be forced to admit the truth to myself, that I still—that I still—
“No,” she said, her voice rising in a cry that seemed to tremble in the air between them. “No,” she repeated, and then, because it was the only safe thing she could think of, she took another breath and lied again, the same way she had when they’d been preparing dinner. “It wouldn’t be fair to—to Milton.”
“Milton.” The name was like an obscenity on Chase’s lips.
“That’s right. Milton. I’m engaged, and so are you. What I meant about nobody knowing what we do tonight, nobody asking questions, was that there’s no reason for us to share the bedroom.”
“I see.”
She waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t.
“Surely, in this entire house, there’s another—”
“No.”
“No?”
“Look around you, dammit. There’s no sofa. There’s not even a chair, except for the rocker in the bedroom.”
Annie stared at him, wondering why he sounded so angry.
“Well,” she said, looking up at the ceiling, “what’s on the second—”
“Did you see a staircase?”
“Well—well, no. No, I didn’t. But—”
“That’s because there aren’t any rooms above us. There’s just a storage loft, full of boxes. And bats.”
“Bats?” Annie said, with a faint shudder.
“Bats,” Chase repeated coldly, furious at her, at himself, at Dawn, at Kichiro Tanaka and the city of Seattle and the Fates and whoever, whatever, had put him into this impossible situation. His lips drew back from his teeth. “The bats eat the spiders. The impressive ones, the size of dinner plates.”
“In other words, you’re telling me we’ll have to make the best of things.”
“A brilliant deduction.”
Annie tossed aside the magazine and shot to her feet. “Listen, Cooper, don’t be so high-and-mighty! I’m not the one who got us stuck out here, and don’t you forget it.
“No,” he snarled, “I won’t forget it. If you’d put your foot down in the first place, if you’d told our daughter, flat out, that she couldn’t marry Nick—”
“That’s it,” Annie said, stalking past him.
“Don’t you walk out on me, lady.”
“I’m going to find something else to read,” she snapped, over her shoulder. “Even the label on a can of tuna would be better than trying to have a conversation with you.”
“You’re right,” Chase snapped back, shouldering past her. “I might even take my chances and try swimming to the mainland. Anything would be an improvement over an evening spent in your company!”
* * *
Annie sat on the rocker in the bedroom. She looked at her watch.
Chase had been gone a long time. Surely he hadn’t really meant that. He wouldn’t have really tried to swim the cold, choppy water...
The bedroom door opened. She looked up and saw Chase.
“Sorry,” he said briskly. “I should have knocked.”
“That’s all right. I, uh, I was just sitting here and—and thinking.”