Window on Yesterday by Joan Hohl Page A

especially American history, the one subject dearest to both their hearts.
    Alycia was too interested, too involved, and much too enthralled with her companion to be surprised or even to notice how very similar their preferences were. All she was really aware of was a sense of contentment and how very right it felt just being with him.
    As they were walking to the car after leaving the motel, Sean leaned over her to whisper in her ear.
    “I absolutely adore pizza, too.”
----
Chapter 5
    It was immature and perhaps even silly, yet Sean’s admission warmed Alycia throughout the short drive to the apartment and during her preparation for bed.
    Sean adored pizza.
    Alycia smiled dreamily and snuggled under the down comforter on her twin-size bed. Sean Halloran, sophisticated, world-traveler historian and author, adored pizza as much as Alycia Matlock, twenty-seven-year-old college student. The thought was infinitely more warming than the lightweight cover.
    Sleep was tiptoeing around the edges of Alycia’s consciousness when the phone rang, jarring her awake. Bolting up, she sat staring at the door, her eyebrows pinched in a frown.
    Who could be calling at midnight? she wondered, tossing back the comforter. Both Karla and Andrea were sound asleep, Alycia knew, because she had carefully peeked into their rooms before going to her own. Her movements slow and unsure, she slipped from the bed, toes creeping along the carpet until they made contact with her furry mules.
    Alycia’s hesitation was revealing; she didn’t like late-night calls. Positive it was a wrong number or, worse, a drunk having some sick fun, she left her room and walked slowly to the kitchen, hoping the caller would tire of waiting and hang up.
    Her step quickened when the insistent trill rang for the sixth time. Whoever was at the other end of the line was determined to reach someone.
    Suppose it was an emergency! What if something had happened to one of her parents or to a member of Karla’s or Andrea’s family? Having effectively frightened herself, Alycia grasped the receiver and snatched it from the wall cradle.
    “Hello?” She held her breath after whispering the word.
    “I woke you. I’m sorry.”
    Alycia slumped against the wall, the pent-up breath whoosing from her body. “No, Sean, you didn’t wake me.” She laughed shakily. “You merely scared me half to death. I was imagining all kinds of unthinkable disasters.”
    “I am sorry but”—he sighed—”I couldn’t sleep.”
    “Too much rich food?” Alycia asked sympathetically.
    “Too many rich emotions,” Sean replied softly. “I feel as churned up as an ocean being pounded by a hurricane.”
    Alycia laughed, she couldn’t help herself. It was late and she was tired, but she was tickled by his turn of phrase. “You’re crazy” she chided him tenderly.
    “I’m crazy about you,” Sean returned somberly.
    “Sean.” His name whispered achingly through her slightly parted lips.
    Sean groaned. “Oh, God, Alycia, I want to hold you ... just hold you.”
    Alycia stopped breathing, stopped thinking. Feeling boneless, she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold tile floor. She didn’t notice the chill. Closing her eyes, she imagined the thrilling wonder of Sean’s embrace, the excitement, the heat. Suddenly she ached with the longing to have him there, right there on the floor, with her, a part of her. Yearning, yearning, she drew her legs up close to her body and rested her head back against the wall, releasing her need in a long, heartfelt sigh.
    “Alycia?”
    “Yes, Sean.”
    “What are you doing? What are you thinking?”
    “I’m sitting on the floor and I’m thinking about you.”
    “Isn’t the floor cold?” he asked with immediate concern.
    Alycia smiled. “I don’t know.” She felt his sigh to her fur-encased toes. “My imagination’s keeping me warm.”
    “What are you imagining?” Sean’s voice was deep, laced with anticipation and