Man From Tennessee Read Online Free Page B

set up in the apartment. She was so shocked—as if she thought I’d just forget her once I left. Apart from my being an indifferent cook at best in those days, I don’t think anyone had had the nerve to serve Julia spaghetti in years. Much less invite her to a place decorated in early attic,” Trisha said dryly. “I remembered that she was fussy about salad dressings so I made a Jell-O molded salad. No one can mess up one of those. Only…”
    The corner of his mouth was twitching. She felt an odd stirring inside to see that slash of a smile. “Go on.”
    “I had molded it beautifully,” Trisha said frankly. “Only I seemed to have molded in the spoon I’d stirred it with. She never said a word. When she offered to serve the salad I just said yes, and it was only after she was gone and I was cleaning up that I saw she had carved very carefully around the spoon…”
    He had such a delicious chuckle, throaty and vibrant. Trisha smiled back, an unexpected warmth curling all through her at the sound of him. His eyes softened in laughter, the corners crinkling in little fan lines, and when he stopped smiling the sensual softness was still there when he looked at her.
    “Anyway, she took care of me for a time, and I found myself reversing the role, taking care of Julia from time to time. I didn’t think you’d mind, Kern. Julia never even brought up the two of us. And when she was determined to come down here and see you, I couldn’t say no to her.”
    Kern stood up to take his empty coffee cup to the sink. She’d deliberately tried to provoke his laughter with the silly little story, and she had. Five years ago there was none, and suddenly his laughter was a reminder of how they might have related to each other. She stood up, too, and took a breath.
    “Well, I’d better get this tray to your mother,” she said briskly. “I may just stay here tonight, Kern, if you really don’t mind. Then by morning if Julia’s better I can have us both out of your hair quickly—”
    The vise of his fingers suddenly grasped her wrist. Her shocked face stared up in amazement at his instant change in mood. Hawk eyes seared hers. “So we managed fifteen minutes of casual conversation. We almost sound like old friends, Tish,” he said sarcastically. “Very cool, very relaxed, very poised, Trisha. Not at all the way you used to be!”
    His work-roughened hand did odd things to the soft skin of her own. “It’s still there, I see. I saw it the minute you came in.”
    The slim gold band seemed to wink at both of them. For a moment she looked up at Kern, her eyes like two blue ink drops on snow. Her face had whitened, not because of the sudden rough contact, but because her senses were unexpectedly assaulted by the closeness of him. He was such a sexual man. The piratelike beard enclosing a mouth that was incredibly smooth-textured. The outdoor scent that was uniquely a part of him. The careless array of thick black hair around a face whose expression was never careless, always alert, always perceptive…
    He released his hold. “I waited for you to apply for a divorce.”
    “I thought you would, Kern. In the beginning I didn’t have the money for it, and…it never really mattered, not when we both knew it was over. I—” Her voice was barely audible. The longer she stared at him, the more she felt mesmerized by the gray light of his eyes, strangely soft for an instant and sad. Bitterly sad for what they both wanted from each other once, and Trisha ached to be closer suddenly, to reach out and just hold him, and be held.
    There was a sharp rap on the door behind her, and Kern stepped around her to answer it.
    “Sorry I’m late, honey. I—oh!”
    The woman had her arms extended with the obvious intention of giving Kern a hug of greeting, until she caught sight of Trisha standing there. It did not take thirty seconds for the scene to gel in Trisha’s mind. If Kern had broken every limb there would still have been no need