To Have and to Hold Read Online Free Page A

over. She wasn’t asking him for anything anyway. And there was the matter of all the other missing pieces, such as Clara’s giant leap forward developmentally and his mother’s mysterious relationship with the motorcycle-loving Ray. No, there was a year missing from his life, and it was at least remotely plausible that during that year he might have found his way into Trina’s pants.
    After all…
    He tried to assess her without appearing to ogle. He’d always thought of her as Phoebe’s “pretty mom,” without any designs on her. There had always been a good reason not to look too closely or too hungrily. He was married. She was his wife’s friend. She was his daughter’s best friend’s mother. She was a mom in a small community where word got around, a mom who appeared to have enough of a struggle to keep her head above water that she didn’t need anyone tomcatting around.
    And, of course, he’d had very strict rules for himself about casual sex. As in, he didn’t do it. Or, he didn’t do it anymore. You only had to have one incident where K-I-S-S-I-N-G led to marriage and a baby in a baby carriage before you realized that skipping the
love
part of the equation could only lead to trouble.
    So, yeah, if he’d admired the flare of Trina’s ass or the generous curves swelling her clingy T-shirt, he’d kept those thoughts dead and buried.
    But when he looked at her more closely now…
    Her big eyes and delicious mouth gave her a sex-kitten appeal that he’d somehow overlooked.
    Although, of course, he hadn’t overlooked it. He’d apparently sampled it.
    And what else?
    Damn, it was frustrating. Had they been good together? What had she been like?
    He knew so little about her. She’d gotten pregnant young, but he didn’t actually know how young. She’d never married Phoebe’s dad, who was an actor on a well-known TV show (something Phoebe brought up as frequently as possible in conversation). Phoebe’s dad had periodically sent extravagant gifts to her—he knew because Dee had told him—but didn’t pay regular child support. Trina worked long hours, sometimes more than one job, to hang onto their small apartment in the highly ranked district where Phoebe and Clara went to school.
    She had to be a good mom, because Phoebe was a sweet kid. Funny, thoughtful, polite, good in school, an unfailingly loyal friend to Clara.
    But that was about it. That was about all he could say he knew about Trina Levine.
    And yet he’d apparently had sex with her.
    Very
, she’d said, when he’d asked how serious they’d been.
    He wondered what that meant.
    Screaming passion and mutual orgasms? Or just—compatibility?
    Sex that was by turns tender, fun, and wild? Or just—sex?
    Imagining Trina in the throes had brought on a half-mast state of arousal and the beginnings of one of those headaches that had been his intermittent companion since he’d woken up at Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany.
Loss of blood, dehydration, shock
, they’d said.
    Now he wondered what they’d missed.
    “I could show you the letters you sent me,” she said. “They must be somewhere. And emails. We sent each other loads of emails. You could read them…”
    Damn, he’d never answered her question. She’d asked if he believed her.
    “No,” he said. It came out shorter than he meant it to. “I mean, yes. I believe you. But no—not the letters and emails. Not now. Maybe another day.”
    To have to read through a year of correspondence with her watching him with that hopeful, expectant look. He didn’t think he could take it.
    “So—what happens now?”
    With a shock, he realized that mixed in with all the uncertainty, there was invitation in her eyes and voice. Of course. As far as she was concerned, they had a history.
    He could have her if he wanted. That’s what she seemed to be trying to tell him.
    He was human. He was male. The pleasing visuals and the note of willingness, even eagerness—they worked on him. Half-mast