"No." He cleared his throat. "Thank you, but . . ."

"Time for a pill?"

"Took one an hour ago."

"Are you . . . okay?" she asked. "Is it time for me to call the doctor for a stronger-"

He took one hand off his walker to wave away her suggestion impatiently. "No, I'm fine. Relatively speaking."

Had she done something to disrupt his carefully ordered world? Kelly couldn't think of a single thing except for . . . oops. Seducing Tom up in her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon. Had Charles somehow found out about that?

He seemed exasperated and annoyed, but more at himself than at her.

"Do you need me to change your sheets?" she tried.

Maybe he'd soiled them during a nap. He hadn't had that problem before, but she was well aware loss of control could happen at any time to someone with his deteriorating physical condition. She'd bought some Depends, and, like the walker, she'd simply put the box in her father's room. They were there if he needed them-he wouldn't have to ask.

But changing the sheets on his bed-that was something he wouldn't be able to do by himself. And she could understand his not wanting to ask Joe for help.

"No," he told her crossly. "I just wanted-"

She waited.

"I wanted to sit and talk for a minute. But if you're feeling . . . Well, later will be fine." He turned away, started back down the hall.

Her father wanted to talk to her.

Kelly couldn't move, couldn't think. Why did her father want to talk to her? And then she couldn't do anything but think of reasons. Maybe to tell her he'd come to terms with dying, with the fact that he was running out of time, the fact that everything he'd left unsaid had better be said, and soon. Maybe he wanted to tell her more about that French woman he'd mentioned just last night. Had that really been only last night? It seemed like a million years ago.

Or maybe he had found out about her and Tom.

"Wait! Dad!" She hurried after her father. "Dad."

As he stopped and turned toward her, she saw that just that little movement required a great deal of effort and her heart sank. He was looking more and more fragile every day.

"Talk to me." She pulled him back into the living room, practically pushed him down into a chair. She pulled up a footstool right next to him. "I'm here. What do you want to tell me? I'm dying to listen."

"It's not that important. I just . . ." He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Just say it," she whispered. "It's amazing how easy it is once you open your mouth and start talking. It's amazing the things that come out."

He finally looked at her. He even briefly reached out to touch her hair. "You always were a pretty child. I used to be afraid of Tom Paoletti, when he was living with Joe down at the end of the driveway. I saw the way he looked at you."

Oh, my God. This was about Tom.

"You know, Dad, I'm a big girl now. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

"You've always been good at taking care of yourself. It's . . . um, it's occurred to me that because of that, you might miss out on an opportunity to let someone else take care of you, if you know what I mean."

Kelly didn't. She shook her head.

"Tom," Charles said with a spark of impatience. "We're talking about Tom here."

"Ah," she said. "We are?"

"He's a good man, Kelly."

Oh, my God. Did her father think . . . ? "He is," she agreed.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew I thought that," he said awkwardly. "I've never come out and said that before."

"Dad, it's obvious you think very highly of him."

"I've been thinking about it a lot lately," Charles said. "Since you told me, well . . . You know, you could do far worse."

Oh, God. Her father thought she and Tom . . . "I'm not going to marry him. We're not . . . He's not . . ." She shook her head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you." Again.

"Oh," he said. "I thought . . . I'd hoped . . ." He searched her face, then sighed. "It was too perfect. I just thought that if Tom could take care of you, then the two of you together could look out for Joe."

This was about Joe. Her father was worried about what would happen to his dear friend Joe when he was gone.

Heart in her throat, Kelly took his hand. "I'll make sure Joe's okay," she told him huskily. "I'll take care of him for you, Daddy. I promise."

He touched her hair again and his eyes were sad. "But who'll take care of you?"

Tom sat at Kelly's computer, suddenly completely uncertain.

He'd heard Kelly's car pull into the driveway nearly an hour ago. It was hard to believe she hadn't noticed that the light was on in her room, that the French doors were wide open.

She'd come into the house, but she hadn't come upstairs.

She hadn't called him from Boston, hadn't called from her car, either.

It was probably no big deal. She'd probably just misplaced his cell phone number. And maybe she'd grabbed something to eat, gone in to check on her father. Those things took time.

He'd showered and shaved before coming back over here tonight, brushed his teeth, run his fingers through his hair.

He'd even practiced bringing up that goddamned unpleasant subject a few times. "Hey, Kel, you know in three and a half weeks when I go back to California? What do you say we do that crazy-assed long-distance thing? We could give it a try. You know, email, phone calls, I could visit every few months or so? . . ."

Of course, there was the variation on the theme that went something like "Hey, Kel, you know in three and a half weeks when I go back to California? Maybe you could go with me. . . ."

Or, best yet, "Hey, Kel, you know in three and a half weeks when I fail my psych evals and I'm kicked out of the Navy, when I'm homeless and jobless and certifiably insane, when I'm at my most pathetically, depressingly lowest-and oh, did you happen to notice it's definite that I'm going bald?-what do you say we get married?"

It was crazy. He was nuts-this proved it.

But oh, God, he wanted her. He truly did. Tonight and forever. All evening, he'd been waiting, half-aroused, wishing she'd come home, dreaming of the stupidest things. The most efficient ways to get their crazy schedules to line up. A plan for bicoastal living. A simple, quiet wedding with Joe and Jazz standing up for him. Names for their children.

Holy shit, he was in serious trouble here. He was naming their frigging children after one naked afternoon. Yes, the sex was beyond incredible. Yes, she made him feel things he'd never felt before. But that didn't automatically make what he was feeling love. That didn't mean it was going to last forever.

Jesus, how do you know? Did the uncertainty ever fall away? Maybe if she looked into his eyes and whispered that she loved him. The thought of her doing that was enough to make him dizzy. God, he wanted her to love him.

He wanted her up here. Now.

If it had been him pulling into the driveway, he'd've taken the stairs to her room three at a time.

Finally, finally the door opened, and Kelly stepped inside.

She closed it behind her, leaning against it. She seemed to brace herself before looking over at him.

"Hi." She forced a smile.

She'd been crying. She'd dried her face, but Tom could tell she was still extremely upset. He stood, suddenly even more uncertain. "I hope you don't mind that I-"

"Of course not." She was brisk as she came into the room, setting her bag down next to her dresser. "I said you could use my computer whenever you wanted."

He wasn't here to use her computer. Surely she knew that. "Is everything . . . Are you . . . ?"

She sat on the edge of her bed and untied her shoes. "I'm fine. I'm . . . My father's dying. It gets to me sometimes. That and the fact that an eighty percent survival rate for childhood leukemia means that twenty percent of the children who get it die." She fired first one and then the other of her shoes into the closet with about ten times the necessary force.

Tom sat down next to her. Oh, damn. "It doesn't look good for Betsy, huh?"

She shook her head tensely, tightly. "No, it doesn't."

He took her hand, massaging her fingers gently. "I'm really sorry."

She gazed down at their hands. "God, Tom, I'm so tired. It's been an intense couple of days, and . . ."

"You look like you need a back rub." He wanted to help erase the strain he could hear in her voice. "Joe's got a pretty nice collection of French wine. I could go grab a bottle and-"

She pulled her hand free and stood up. Her voice shook. "Look, I know I promised we'd get together again when I got home, but I'm sorry, I'm just . . . I'm so not in the mood."

Tom didn't know what to do. But leaving her alone and upset was the last thing he wanted. He tried to keep things light. "For a back rub?"

Kelly turned to face him. "For sex."

"I didn't say you look like you need sex, I said you look like you need a back rub."

"Isn't it the same thing? I don't think I've ever been given a glass of wine and a back rub that hasn't ended with sex."

She was very tired and very upset. And Tom was guilty. A little wine, a little soothing massage, and a little full-body, sensual comfort usually followed. His motives hadn't been entirely pure. But he could make them pure. "There's a first time for everything. And I can tell you right now, I've never had sex with a woman who didn't absolutely want it, so . . ."

"And I have no doubt that after one of your famous back rubs," she countered sharply, "I'll be on that list with all the other women you've made to want it. And I just don't goddamn feel like wanting it tonight, all right?"

Whoa. She was actually pissed off. "Kelly-"

Her voice shook. "I know I'm being awful. Tom, I loved our afternoon together, I really did. But I don't want to mislead you into thinking I'm ready to do anything right now besides crawl miserably into bed and sleep. So maybe you should just go."

Tom stood up. He was trying hard to be understanding because she'd clearly had a tough night with that sick little girl, but it was getting harder not to raise his voice. "Are you implying that the only thing I want from you is sex-that I wouldn't want to spend time with you unless we're going at it?"

She did. Oh, Jesus, she did. She didn't need to say a word, he could see it in her eyes.

"You don't think that when you come into your room-" His voice was definitely getting louder. "-after you've been crying, that I might want to put my arms around you and talk to you, stay with you for a while, find out what the hell's made you so upset?"

"And you don't think that if you put your arms around me," she countered, "we'll be going at it, as you so accurately put it, in a matter of minutes?"

"Not unless you want to," he said tightly.

She was exasperated. "But that's my point. I don't want to want to, but we both know that I will if you touch me." She all but threw up her hands. "You know, this is all really new to me. I've never had a relationship that's based purely on sex before, and the truth is, all I have to do is look at you, and a part of me forgets that I don't want sex tonight. I know it's completely my problem, but please, just give me a break, Tom. Just go."

Tom stared at her. A relationship based purely on sex. Jesus. Had he missed something here? Is that what she truly thought they had going? He laughed in disbelief. She had no fucking clue. If their relationship were based purely on sex, they wouldn't have spent all those hours talking. Caring what the other said and thought and felt and . . .

This so wasn't some fuck-me-tonight, pure sex deal in which they'd have only exchanged names and maybe a sentence or two of small talk. "I grew up in Albuquerque." "Yeah? I have a friend whose sister lives there. Let's screw."

What he had with Kelly was a love affair. At least that's what he'd thought it was. Obviously, he'd been wrong. What he had was a one-sided love affair with a talkative woman who wanted only to fuck him. Come to think of it, she'd used that very word from the start.

His stomach hurt and his throat felt tight. "Well," he said. "Great. Why don't you give me a call when you want to have sex? I'll be, just, you know, standing by."

He went out the French doors and over the side of the balcony without looking back.

Chapter 16.

"TOM!"

He was halfway across the driveway, heading toward Joe's cottage, and he didn't break stride.

"Tom, wait!"

He stopped and slowly turned around. Kelly could see both anger and impatience in the way he was standing.

"I'm sorry," she called down to him. "I've done this all wrong, and . . ."

His face was just a blur in the dimness outside the circle of light thrown by the floodlight on the garage. He moved closer, taking his time, moving slowly, deliberately, until he was directly beneath her balcony. "So this is just sex," he said tightly. "What we've got going here?"

"Isn't it? I mean, you're leaving in a few weeks. I thought . . ."

He looked over at Joe's roses. "Have you ever had a relationship before that was just sex? Only sex?" He turned his focus on her, and his eyes were devoid of the warmth she loved. He was indeed very, very angry. It didn't make sense.

Silently, she shook her head.

"So I win the prize. Why's that, Kelly? Why am I the guy who wins the no-strings sex, huh?"