Time and Again Read Online Free PDF Page B

paperback novel sent him into a panic? Why had he kissed her?
    Libby pulled herself up short there. That particular question wasn't important-it wasn't even relevant. He hadn't really kissed her, she reminded herself. And whether he had or hadn't wasn't the issue. It was gratitude, she decided, and began to nibble on her thumbnail. He'd only been trying to show her that he was grateful to her. Libby certainly understood that a kiss was-could be-a very casual gesture. It was part of Western culture. Over the centuries it had become as unimportant as a smile or a handshake. It was a sign of friendship, affection, sympathy, gratitude. And desire. She bit down harder on her nail.
    Not all societies used the kiss, of course. Many tribal cultures- She was lecturing again, Libby thought in disgust. She looked down at her hands. And she was biting her nails. That was a bad sign.
    What she needed was to get her mind off Hornblower for a while and fill her stomach. Pressing a hand to it, Libby rose. She wasn't going to get any work done this way, so she might as well eat.
    Since Caleb's room was dark, she passed it by, telling herself she'd check on him when she came back up. Sleep was undoubtedly more essential to his recovery than another meal.
    There was a low rumble of thunder as she descended the stairs. Another bad sign, she thought. At this rate it would be days before she could get him down the mountain.
    Perhaps someone was already looking for him. Friends, family, business associates. A wife or a lover.
    Everyone had someone.
    She groped for the kitchen light as the sky cracked with the first bolt of lightning. It was going to be another boomer, she decided as she opened the refrigerator door. Finding nothing that appealed to her, she rummaged through the cupboards. A night like this called for a nice bowl of soup and a seat by the fire.
    Alone.
    She sighed a little as she opened the can. Recently she'd begun to think about being alone. As a scientist she knew the reason. She lived in a culture of couples. Single-unmatched, she remembered with a quick smile-single men and women often found themselves dissatisfied and depressed in their own company.
    The entertainment media subtly-and not so subtly-drilled into them the pleasures of relationships. Families added pressure for the single to marry and continue the family line. Good-natured friends offered help and advice, generally unwanted, on finding a mate. The human being was programmed, almost from birth, to search for and find a companion of the opposite sex.
    Maybe that was why she'd resisted. An interesting analysis, Libby mused as she stirred the soup. The desire for individuality and self-sufficiency had been ingrained in her from birth. It would take a very special person to tempt her to share. She had dated only rarely in high school. The same pattern had held true in college. She'd had no interest.
    That wasn't precisely true, she thought. She had had interest-the trouble was, it had usually been scientific. She'd never met a man who dazzled her enough to stop her from making lists and forming hypotheses. Professor Stone, they'd called her in high school. And it still rankled. In college she'd been considered a professional virgin. She'd detested that, had struggled to ignore it, pouring her energy into her studies. The appeal of her personality had made her friends, both male and female. But intimate relationships were another matter.
    When all the data had been analyzed, there had never been one who had made her- well, yearn, Libby decided. That was the appropriate term.
    She supposed there wasn't a man on the planet who could make her yearn.
    Wooden spoon in hand, she turned to take out a bowl. For the second time she saw Cal framed in the doorway. She gave a muffled shriek, and the spoon went flying. A flash of lightning lit up the room. Then it was plunged into darkness.
    "Libby?"
    "Damn it, Hornblower, I wish you wouldn't do that." Her voice was breathless as