by Kathryn Shay
She resisted, albeit weakly. “Don’t.”
“Shh, let me help.”
He had her snuggled up against his chest, when she mumbled, “I might get sick all over you.” Even ill, she was sharp as a tack. It made him smile.
The blanket lay in the shade provided by the helicopter. Sinking onto it, he leaned against the ship with her in his arms, on his lap. Again, she tried to pull away.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He tried to sooth her. To make her more comfortable, he tugged her hair out of the knot, and let it fall in silken waves onto his arm. Awkwardly, he fished out a cloth and water from the bag. Easing her back onto his arm, he bathed her face. Her eyes closed, and her dark lashes fluttered against her cheek. “Better?”
She nodded.
He rested his hand on her stomach. “Still sick?”
“No, it feels okay.”
“Just lay back,” he whispered. “Keep your eyes shut.” He picked up the cloth once more. “Let me take care of you.”
“Not a good idea,” she mumbled, but kept her eyes closed.
He kissed her nose. “I know, sweetheart, I know.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SEARING PAIN permeated her consciousness and caused Alexis to curl into a ball in bed. She gasped, grabbed her stomach and tried to breathe deeply. It was déjà vu to the few days before she collapsed the last time.
If you feel this way again, the doctors had told her, you need to get to the hospital right away.
She searched for the clock. Two in the morning. Sinking back into the pillows, she hugged her stomach and struggled to think clearly. She hadn’t taken care of herself and that was stupid. Somehow, she’d let personal problems derail her healing. Time to get back on track. She’d go to the hospital.
Alone.
The thought came to her, like a specter in the dark night. Outside, the moon cast its beam through the curtains, illuminating one big truth for her. She was completely alone. She had been for a long time.
Oh, sure there were people she could call. She could spoil Jamie and Portia’s weekend at the festival. She could awaken her father and make him drive all the way down here—if he was even in town. Not a lot of choices for a woman of thirty-five.
All the big decisions are made in empty rooms. Someone in business had told her that once, then she’d run across a similar sentiment in a poem by Carl Sandburg. And tonight, as she scanned her empty bedroom, she realized the meaning had never been clearer. The poem was right.
Poem. Spence. Her mind made the connection eagerly.
Promise me you’ll call Keag if you need him.
Not a chance—not after the spectacle she’d made of herself today. Not after he’d been so tender, so gentle, she’d had to battle back the tears, she’d wanted him so much. Pity wasn’t on her top list of emotions to elicit from a man, and that’s why she couldn’t finish the flight and why she wouldn’t call him.
She wouldn’t.
She almost relented when she crept out of bed, and a pain shot through her that was sharp enough to double her over, like a sucker punch to the gut. But the pain eased, as it always did after she drank some liquid antacid, and she was able to dress in loose shorts and a sweatshirt. Steadying herself, she made her way gingerly out to the kitchen.
The taunt from Lexy came as quickly as the pain. You’re all alone, girl. There’s no one here for you. How does it feel?
It felt rotten.
No time for self-pity now, though. Just concentrate on getting to the hospital. She rested at the kitchen table until the pain subsided. Then she grabbed her purse and car keys and headed out the back door.
It was foolish of her to glance down the road. The back of Spence’s big green Cherokee visible next to his cottage. If she called him, he’d take her. She wouldn’t have to be alone.
Frozen, she stared at his car for a long time before she slid into her BMW and started the motor.
o0o
THIRTY HOURS LATER, Alexis was dressed in the same shorts and sweatshirt she’d put on the day before and sitting on the hospital bed she’d spent the night in.
A dark-haired resident checked her chart. He was cute, and so young, she felt like Methuselah. “The endoscopy shows that everything seems to be all right, Ms. Castle. We did a biopsy during the procedure just to be sure. The tests show no bleeding this time. But your ulcer is raw again.”
She nodded.
“You need to take better care of yourself.”
“I know.”
“There’s no reason you can’t go home. Pick up the prescription for your stomach medicine at the front desk, and try to rest.”
Again, she nodded.
The resident scanned the small room. “Will your family be coming to take you home?”
“Um, no. I can drive, can’t I?”
He looked surprised, then sympathetic. “Yes, of course. I just thought...”
You just thought I was normal, and had somebody who cared enough to be with me when I got sick.
That she didn’t had haunted her during the entire time she’d lain in this bed and stared at the cracked plaster ceiling. She hadn’t ordered a TV or a phone, purposely cloistering herself because she had a lot of thinking to do. What she’d uncovered had not been pleasant.
Now the resident’s blue eyes were kind. “Can I help? Call somebody, maybe?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you, doctor.”
A half-hour later, she pulled into the driveway of Clare’s cottage. It was eight o’clock, Sunday morning. The lake was still quiet. Deliberately, she checked down the road. Spence’s Cherokee was there. She circled to the front of the cottage and caught sight of his boat, too.
Staring at the cedar two-storey house he’d built with his own hands, she sighed. It was closed up tight. Hmm. Sometimes he left the door unlocked—foolishly, she’d told him—but he swore lake living was safe. In minutes, she was on the deck, at the side door. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Doubt claimed her. She smoothed down her simple, pink, checked shorts and fleece top. She should have changed. No, no, just try the door. Summoning Lexy, she reached out.
The handle turned easily.
Alexis was giddy with relief as she entered the dim kitchen. No coffee brewing—so he wasn’t up. Swallowing hard, she took the same path she’d taken that day, less than two weeks ago, when she’d refused to sleep with him. She was on the first step at the bottom of the oak staircase before the thought struck her—what if he was with someone? Like Nancy, Jenna’s clone, who he’d taken to the movies. Fear paralyzed her. She turned around to leave.
Yeah, sure, go, coward. Just like you’ve done your whole life.
Alexis halted. Straightened her shoulders. Well, she was a grown woman. If he wasn’t alone, she’d deal with it.
Determined, she climbed the steps. They creaked--the sound sharp in the silent morning. At the top of the staircase, as she neared his room, she could hear the sea gulls squawking outside. He slept with the doors and windows open. Tentatively, her heart pounding like a thousand drums, she approached his bedroom.
He was there, in bed.
Alone.
Silently, she breathed a prayer of thanks.
He was lying on his stomach in a tangle of dark blue pillows and striped sheets, a faint beam of sun sneaking in through the window blinds over the bed. His arm clutched one pillow, and the muscles bunched even in sleep. His sandy-blond hair was mussed. His back was deeply tanned. The top sheet twisted around his hips, and his legs jutted out from the bottom. He barely fit on the king-size bed. For a minute, she watched him, drinking in the masculine sight. His cologne, or aftershave or maybe even soap, lingered like incense in the room. She breathed it in.
Good luck, Lexy, she wished herself as she stepped toward the bed.
o0o
IN THAT TWILIGHT between sleep and wakefulness, Spence knew he was dreaming about her. He buried his face in the pillow to prolong the fantasy. Like in all the others, she’d com
e to tell him that she wanted him no matter what the consequences. Only this time, she was dressed—usually his very macho id had her naked and hot—in shorts and a sweatshirt. And this dream was so real he could inhale her subtle scent, almost feel her hand lightly stroking his back. He arched into it, moaning. Her voice filtered in—sounded amused. “Spence, wake up.”
Shaking his head, he dug his cheek deeper into the pillow. He fought against consciousness, knowing she’d be gone when he awoke. And he’d be sweating and hard and wanting her so bad he’d vault moving trains to get her. Some part of his brain knew he was dumb-ass close to caving in to her demands, anyway. Butterfly soft lips feathered against his ear. Oh, God.
Then she kissed his cheek; his hand shot out to the spot and connected with—flesh. He came fully awake and jerked up his head. Was he hallucinating? He could actually see her.
“Hi.” She whispered it shyly. Softly. Sexily.
He swallowed hard once, before his mind cleared and he saw she was real. “Lexy.” Abruptly, he flipped over onto his back, unbalancing her from where she sat on the edge of his bed. He grasped her arms to steady her. His hands connected with the soft fleece of a sweatshirt. “Lexy, oh, God.”
Dragging her close, he clasped her to his chest and buried his hand in the soft silk of her hair, while the other anchored her against him. He’d stand naked in a snowstorm before he let her go. “Sweetheart, I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been?”
Half sitting, she mumbled something against his skin that he couldn’t hear. Probably because he was holding her so tight she couldn’t breathe, and because she was burrowing into him like a kitten. He luxuriated in their embrace for a moment, then urged her to sit upright so he could look at her. Propping himself on pillows, he studied her face. It was pale, and drawn as if she hadn’t slept much. But her eyes were sea-green, and shining with an emotion he was gut-sick afraid to believe in. “Tell me.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I was wrong. I want to risk this now. I shouldn’t have asked you to wait.”
The words he’d ached to hear washed over him like cool water on a sweltering day. He swallowed hard, moved by unfamiliar emotions. But he needed to be honest, too. Locking his hand on her neck, he massaged her there and said, “No, I’ve been an ass. I should’ve let you have space. I should’ve been more understanding of you.” He kissed her briefly on the lips. “I was wrong to push you.”
It was as if he’d given her a gift. Her face shone with gratitude and something else—validation. But she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now, Spence. I don’t want to wait any longer. Make love to me. Right—” she bent over and kissed his breastbone, causing his body to arch off the mattress “—now.”
Again, he drew her up. “No, I think we should talk about this. I need to know—” She cut off his words, and his breath for God’s sake, when she stood and whipped off the sweatshirt. Underneath was the laciest little bra he’d ever seen, cupping her like a man’s hands. “Oh, Lord, Lex, wait no—” He grabbed for her fingers as they found the zipper of her shorts. “Where have you been? I checked the cottage every hour all day yesterday. I was worried si—”
Grinning, she batted his hands away. She was gunslinger-fast with the button, then the zipper of those cute pink shorts. What was underneath was dynamite and set off quick little explosions all through his body. The matching panties were lace too, just a scrap covering almost nothing. He closed his eyes. “Oh, baby, please, don’t torture me. Tell me what happened first.”
She chuckled. “I will, after. Open your eyes, big guy.”
The teasing swayed him. He pried his lids up. Slowly, she reached behind her and unsnapped the bra. It fell to the floor and Spence knew that never in his life had he encountered a lovelier sight. She was so full and feminine she made him ache. His entire body hardened, reached toward her.
She let him tug off her panties—they were soft as a duck’s down. Inch by inch, he lowered them and gazed at what he’d bared. His mouth went dry as he brushed his knuckles against her dark curls. She smiled and moaned, at the same time she stepped out of the lace. He pulled playfully on her hand and she tumbled on top of him, stretching over his full length. He cursed the sheet between them, but couldn’t bring himself to move her.
Threading his hands in her hair, locking his eyes with hers, he drew her face to his. He kissed her lids shut, her freckled nose, each cheekbone, as he worked his way down, real slow and easy, to her mouth. Then took it. Colorful fireworks exploded inside his head when she sank into him, kissing him with unbridled passion, but also with a deep sense of...possession. That clawed at him, a man who had avoided, like napalm, commitment and what it had stood for all his life. Now, he greedily devoured it, and her, until their kiss was no longer enough.
Gently running his hands down the feminine curve of her hip, over her sexy bottom, he massaged her there then rolled them both over until she was on her back and his body covered hers. The sun slanted in through the blinds, bathing her in a natural glow. She was earthy and whole and totally female against his pillows, his sheets, his body. “I want you so much,” he told her.
“You feel so good.” She mumbled the words as she nibbled hungrily on his chin, his jaw and his lips.
He kissed her again, thoroughly, reeling with the depth of his passion. He knew in his soul he’d never felt like this before. His mouth settled on the graceful curve of her shoulder, then on the breasts that had drawn him like a lodestone for what seemed like a lifetime. He spent moments there, tasting her, suckling her until she gripped his shoulders and begged, “Please, Spence.”
Grinning, he took love bites out of her chest, moving down to her abdomen to let his tongue play with her navel. When he slid even lower, to give her that most intimate caress, she startled as if she’d been struck by an electric current. He wondered briefly at her experience, but was soon lost in the sweet scent and taste of her.
When he’d reached his own limit, he drew away reluctantly and licked his way back up her body. She was writhing now from his sensual odyssey; the primitive satisfaction he got from her pleasure was so at odds with the tenderness he felt for her, he was poleaxed by the contradiction.
Alexis opened her eyes and found him leaning over her with an expression so tender, so...loving...on his face, it momentarily soothed the wild desire racing through her body. She raised her hands to his face. “Spence.”
He smiled. “You know how much this means to me, don’t you?”
She nodded. “To me, too.” Running her hands down his back, she felt the muscles stiffen under them. “I want to touch you.” His lower body arched into her. He pulsed big and hard against her. Her hands cupped his bottom—massaged—but he lowered his forehead to hers to stop her. “No more, sweetheart. I’m too close. I’ve wanted you for too long.”
“But I want to touch you,” she repeated, “more.”
He gave her a kiss that clouded her mind and jellied her body. “Next time,” he promised. Fumbling in the drawer, he pulled out a condom and sheathed himself quickly. Then, taking a pillow from the bed, he placed it under her hips. Large masculine hands parted her legs, slowly ran down her inner thighs, then his hand pressed against her. She pressed back in response and he gave her Adam’s grin. Then he entered her, slowly at first, letting her get used to the size of him. Her eyes locked with his when he was fully inside. “Oh, my God,” he said simply.
She sighed, until he moved. Again, maddeningly slow at first. She gripped his shoulders as his thrusts increased.
“Spence...Spe-nce...” she called out as he quickened the pace, drove hard...harder into her.
“Lexy...Lex...love,” she heard him say, then heard no more. Instead, she was enveloped by the feel of him, the weight and fullness of his body on top and inside hers.
It wasn’t long before they came together, in one long, loving burst of pleasure that shattered them both.
o0o
SHE WAS A BEAUTY, that was for sure. All sleek lin
es and smooth curves sparkling in the sun. Like the Lotus Eaters in Homer’s poem, she lured a man to lose himself in her, to forget responsibilities and the real world. From his deck, Spence watched the yacht that cruised the lake as cool as a satisfied woman. She was a fifty-footer, he’d guess. Huge deck space that could hold a good-size party.
A movement to his left caught his attention. His heart bumped in his chest, making him feel like a fifteen-year-old kid. From a distance, he devoured the sight of Alexis walking through Portia’s yard; as she stepped onto his property, he could see she’d showered and changed into a pink and yellow flowery one-piece wrap that was tied with a draw string at the waist. When she raised her arm to grasp the rail of his deck stairs, the strap of a dark pink bathing suit peeked out from underneath. Her damp hair fell around her shoulders, but was clipped back off her face at the top.
“Something wrong?” she asked, tugging self-consciously at the dress’s tie.
“Not a thing, sweetheart. You look prettier than a sunrise.”
“It’s because I had some sleep at last.”
Three hours of dead-to-the-world napping had claimed them both after lovemaking that had knocked his socks off. And stolen his heart, he suspected.
“Uh-huh. The sleep did it.” His tone was teasingly dry.
A delicate blush crept up her cheeks. “Well, maybe that and the lovin’ before and after.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear, ma’am. Sit. I’ll get you some milk.”
“Please! I never even liked it as a kid. Some ice water will do fine.”
As he rose, she sank onto the padded lounger next to him. Stooping, he kissed her thoroughly. His head buzzed and his mind blanked from just the brief contact. They’d decided not to flaunt their newfound intimacy, but nobody was around right now and Spence was having trouble controlling himself. Something else that worried him. “Be right back.”
