Forever Spring by Joan Hohl Read Free Book Online Page A

Karen whipped around to look at him. “No!” she shouted. “No, I don’t want you to go!” Gripping the dishes in her hands, she spun on her heel and dashed into the kitchen, wincing at the harsh sound of his voice as Paul cursed fluently.
    Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Feeling about to explode, Paul stormed into the living room. A fire leaped merrily in the fireplace, sending forth a rosy light to enhance the welcoming comfort of the room. Paul wasn’t soothed by the warmth of the fire or the appeal of the deeply cushioned chintz-covered chairs and sofa, the brightly colored braided oval rug or the glow from the softly burnished copper lamps set on the solid wood tables. If anything, the tranquil ambience of the room merely added irritation to his already abraded sensibilities. Flinging his body into a chair, he stared broodingly into the crackling flames.
    Why had it happened, here and now? Paul asked himself agitatedly. More to the point, how had it happened? A burst of dry, humorless laughter eased the tension in his throat. Had he genuinely believed that his sex life was a thing of the past? Yes, he had convinced himself that the drive was gone forever.
    “Fool!”
    The ridicule wrapped up in the sound of his own voice brought a self-mocking smile to Paul’s lips. Impotence. Merely allowing the word to form instilled a sense of sick dread in him. But he had believed it to be true. For six years, Paul had lived with the feeling of dread. Six long years. Sighing softly, tiredly, he rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.
    More than six years earlier, in the classic last-to-know fashion, he had learned of his wife’s infidelities and her proclivity for younger men—compliments of a well-meaning friend. At the time, something had seemed to die inside Paul. His body had not responded to either his wife or any other member of the opposite sex since then. At first, his lack of response had terrified him, yet pride had kept him from seeking medical advice. Then, as time passed and his interest waned, Paul had resigned himself to never again experiencing the sensual thrill of his blood running hot and wild and his body tautening in anticipation. And now, after six years, to have his body awaken to urgent, pulsating life, not once but repeatedly within a matter of some twenty-four hours, was stupefying, to say the least.
    Not repeatedly, incessantly, Paul thought wryly, feeling his muscles tense and the sweet flame of desire sear his loins as a vision of Karen came into his mind.
    What was it about her? Shaking his head, Paul dismissed the question as unimportant. The why of it didn’t matter—not now. What did matter was the life and passion quickening his body and teasing his mind. He wanted her. His desire was strong and hot, and he wanted her so much it actually caused him pain. God, it was wonderful!
    “Where is your wife?”
    His sensual reverie shattered by Karen’s quiet voice, Paul shot up in the chair. His mind still clouded by a haze of passion, he stared at her uncomprehendingly.
    “My wife?” he repeated blankly.
    Karen’s lips tightened. “Yes,” she said distinctly. “Your wife.” Her steps light, her walk graceful, she crossed the room to stand before him. Her gaze was cool and direct. “Where is she now?”
    A flash of understanding removed the frown creasing Paul’s brow. He had told her he was both a father and a grandfather, but that was all he’d told her. And after the trauma of her revelations the night before, they had both carefully avoided any subject even bordering on the personal all day. They had talked of many things, all of them impersonal. But now, Paul realized that Karen needed answers—she believed him married and looking for some extramarital action. And considering her own experience with Charles, she was probably somewhat militant, and rightfully so. A slight smile teased Paul’s lips. No wonder she was looking at him in that insulted, accusatory