Hot Touch

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Hot Touch Page 13

by Deborah Smith


  His tongue stroked hers for a moment, the action meant to soothe but also to excite. Caroline wound her fingers into his shirt and sagged forward, giving herself to his delicious mixture of sweetness and passion.

  He pushed her knees apart and moved within the boundaries of her legs, then slid his hands down to her hips. He sat back and lifted her to his lap.

  Still lost in his intimate, ever-changing kiss, Caroline straddled his thighs, her knees hugging them on either side. She draped her arms around his neck and drew away from his seductive mouth just enough to dab urgent kisses across his lips.

  She saw her own desire reflected in his half-shut eyes and flushed face. Just looking at him made her quiver from restraint; the squeezing pressure of his hands on her rump was an enticement as old as time, and she wanted to surround him, to let her hips arch against him while his hands urged her on.

  “This is why people do crazy, foolish things,” she murmured brokenly. “This feeling. I finally understand how people can claim that nothing else matters.”

  He tilted his head and gave her one of his solemn, endearing looks of bewilderment. “Don’t make it sound so terrible.”

  Caroline rested her forehead against his. For a moment her mind remained in a haze, every nerve ending geared to the scent and feel of him. Her fingers itched to explore the expanse of hard, muscled shoulders under his shirt; her face tingled as she imagined herself rubbing catlike along the hint of beard on his jaw.

  “I don’t want to hurt or disappoint you,” she said plaintively. “I’ll leave this place tonight rather than take that chance.”

  “I’d just come after you. Shhh. I’m a big ol’ tough man with a hide like a ’gator’s, yes? Don’t worry about me.”

  She shook him lightly. “I can’t stay in Louisiana, Blue. There are too many bad memories, and I’d live in dread of running across my mother’s family one day.”

  “Shhh. Why try to answer all the questions before the test starts?”

  He pulled her forward a little, then lay back on the straw and smiled at her wickedly.

  Caroline gasped as his tactic brought her feverish center into direct contact with the rising bulge inside his trousers. He held her hips still and arched gently against her.

  “You’re seducing me against my will,” she whispered, her eyes heavy with desire and her voice husky. “I thought this kind of thing could happen only in my imagination.”

  “If we weren’t lying here where anyone could walk up and catch us, I’d give your imagination an even bigger jolt.”

  “This is … new. I feel new.” She gestured vaguely, then let her hands fall to his chest.

  His breath short, his eyes tender but questioning, he relaxed underneath her. He reached up and cupped her chin. “Chère, what does sex mean to you?”

  Caroline blinked in surprise, and a chill of regret ran through her. She looked at him worriedly. Understanding filled his expression, and he grasped her arms.

  “Come here. Beside me,” he asked, pulling her down.

  With a troubled sigh she snuggled into the harbor of his shoulder and hugged one arm over his chest. He languidly caressed her face, and she was glad that her scar lay hidden against his side.

  “What does it mean for you?” he repeated gently. “A few minutes of physical sensation? A way to show love? Or just something to offer so you’ll get the affection you need?”

  Caroline shut her eyes. “The last one. At least that’s the way it was until I turned seventeen—when I ran away from home. I learned a lot about sex and nothing about love.”

  Paul’s hand never faltered. He touched her hair, stroked it gently, and tightened his arm around her shoulders. “That was your stepparents’ fault.”

  His attitude and gentleness scattered her worries. Caroline exhaled shakily. “I’m just being honest with you. I was nobody’s angel. I wanted to embarrass my stepparents and thumb my nose at all the average, regular, happy kids my age.”

  She shook her head. “So I dated the bad guys, the troublemakers—and I did what I thought I had to do to make them like me.”

  “It’s no crime for a mixed-up teenager to make mistakes. I just wanted to know how it had been with you.”

  “Oh, doc,” she whispered. “Doc.” Her tears dampened his shoulder. Caroline admitted silently that she loved this sweetheart of a man. No matter what distances might separate them, no matter what happened to their mismatched pairing, she loved him.

  She made a soft keening sound of devotion and turned her face toward his chest. “Later, when I was older, it was different with Tom,” she murmured.

  “I figured that, yes.”

  “He taught me how to care. Everything he did was unselfish. There weren’t any fireworks with Tom, but I didn’t mind.”

  Paul twisted his head and kissed her hair. “So you went from one extreme to the other.” His deep voice was a little coy. “How would you like to try a mixture, hmmm? Sex and romance?”

  Caroline’s heart clattered in her chest. “Sounds lovely, but I’m not sure I’d know how to act.”

  “You’ll learn.”

  “I should pack my fanny onto the next plane for California. For your sake as well as mine. Getting involved is not as simple as you want it to be,” she protested.

  He shook his head and chuckled. “ ’Tis too, chère.”

  “You’re forgetting that I can truly be a bitch at times.”

  “And I can truly be a bastard.”

  “No, you’re a hellion. That’s much nicer.”

  “Well then, you’re no worse than a hellion either.”

  Caroline began to smile helplessly. She knew deep down that they were headed for some devastating decisions, but that realization couldn’t overwhelm the sweet sense of happiness growing inside her chest.

  She cuffed one of Paul’s ears playfully. “We’ve never had a good, long conversation about regular stuff. Maybe we can’t do it.”

  “Like what stuff?”

  She thought for a moment, her hand curling and uncurling in his shirt. “Favorite movies, books, foods, etcetera.”

  “The Day the Earth Stood Still, any mystery by Dick Francis, and seafood.”

  Caroline huffed drolly. “Not bad. I like those things too.”

  “Let’s have a date. Right now. We’ll stay here all night and get to know each other.”

  “A date?”

  He tickled her cheek with his fingertips. “It’s one of those romantic things where a man and a woman talk to each other without arguing or making love.”

  She smiled tentatively. “Are you sure we can manage that?”

  “Let’s give it a try, chère.”

  Feeling giddy, Caroline propped herself on one elbow and stuck a piece of straw in her mouth at a jaunty angle. Tenderness and affection coursed through her like a fine wine as she looked at the gentle barbarian sprawled next to her, his expression absurdly prim.

  Caroline smiled at him and was rewarded by a searing look of affection. For the first time in her life, she felt very much at home.

  Angelique left the next morning with great dignity and a handshake that nearly crushed Caroline’s fingers. Her son, unaware of the mood, hugged Caroline good-bye.

  “I will,” he said.

  As soon as Angelique’s zippy red subcompact disappeared at the end of the long oak corridor, Paul turned to Caroline and asked, “Will what?”

  She laughed to hide her awkwardness. “He thinks I can read his mind.”

  Paul grinned widely and shook his head. “Kids live in a great fantasy world.”

  “Yeah.” As Paul took her hand and led her to the house for breakfast, Caroline fought a twinge of guilt over her deception. She’d never told Tom about her gift, so why should she tell Paul?

  Because Tom didn’t inhabit your soul the way Paul does, she told herself.

  “Sleepy?” he asked after they filled up on sugary beignets and pungent cappuccino.

  “I don’t know.” Caroline clas
ped her wrist as if testing her pulse. “Sugar and caffeine level are at maximum, Captain. She’s ready for warp speed.”

  Paul slapped the kitchen table exuberantly. “You’re a Star Trek fan. Me too.”

  Caroline laughed. “That’s probably the only thing we didn’t discuss last night. My voice sounds like a croak.”

  “No, it’s very Lauren Bacall.”

  Caroline sighed. “You adore me. Such good taste.”

  “Then you won’t mind swinging with me.”

  “Eh, Tarzan?”

  “In the hammock. Out back. Big enough for two.”

  “Two what?”

  He stood, jerked a thumb toward the back veranda, and smiled wickedly. “Move your petit cul.”

  “When I find out what a cul is, I hope I’m pleased.”

  “That was a compliment, and yours is great.”

  Holding hands, they strolled out into a pleasant fall morning with air washed clean by a dawn shower. Insects chorused in the honeysuckle and magnolias beyond the backyard; the moss glistened on oaks still silver with moisture.

  Paul took her to a huge hammock strung between two of the trees. “I’ve always intended to see if swinging in a hammock was fun,” she commented.

  “No hammocks in California?”

  “Nah. Just swingers. No hammocks.”

  Chuckling, Paul picked her up and laid her in the soft white web. He went to the other side and settled beside her. He crossed his feet at the ankles; she copied him. He put his hands behind his head; she put hers behind her head.

  The hammock swung gently, and a fragrant morning breeze curled under Caroline’s back. She felt Paul’s body pressing against hers from shoulder to calf, cozy and inviting. “Heaven,” she whispered.

  “See?” he teased. “You do what I do, the world is fine, yes?”

  Caroline looked at him, blinked sleepily and happily, and whispered with wistful hope, “Maybe so.”

  But the world wasn’t fine, not when Wolf failed to come home by dusk. Carolines sat on the floor, the flowing skirt of a yellow shirtwaist dress tucked around her legs, and watched Paul pace the big parlor along the front of the house, his footsteps reverberating on the old hardwood boards.

  Guilt twisted her stomach. “He’ll come back,” she offered.

  “He never disappeared like this before the movie people came. I don’t understand. Maybe he’s stressed out, like Frank kept telling me before he brought you here.”

  “I don’t think it has anything to do with the movie.” She paused. “Doc, how long have you had Wolf, and how did you get him?”

  Lost in thought, Paul distractedly ran his hands over his gray sweatshirt, then sank them into the pockets of his jeans. Caroline watched the languid gathering of shadows around him and the way the fading light caressed his hard-drawn face. Put this man in virtually any environment and he made it hum with sensuality.

  Paul gazed at the floor in thought. “I’ve had Wolf two years last month. Got him from a roadside zoo when he was six weeks old. The bastard who ran it had one of those nasty little tourist traps.”

  Paul spread his hands as if outlining a sign. “ ‘See the alligators. See the wolves. Buy your beer, food, gas.’ This jerk had a pen with a couple of stagnant puddles full of baby ’gators and a wire cage holding little bitty Wolf, lookin’ sick and mean.”

  Caroline thumped her knees. “I hope you raised hell.”

  “Yeah, that guy, I got him shut down the next day. I took the ’gators and turned ’em loose. The first night Wolf spends here at the plantation I put him in a box by my bed—you know, with an old blanket and a chew toy. I woke up in the middle of the night with Wolf snuggled under my chin. He knew right from the start that I was his friend.”

  “He’d die for you.” Caroline rested her chin on her knees and shivered from emotion as she watched Paul come to a halt. I understand why.

  Paul looked at her with troubled, searching eyes. “That stuff Mark said about you talking to the animals. I think you do talk to them some how.”

  Blanching, she fumbled for a reply. The phone rang upstairs in Paul’s bedroom, and Caroline exhaled gratefully as he loped out of the parlor to answer it.

  A minute later he bounded down the stairs at high speed. “Let’s go, Caro,” he yelled. “Neighbor of mine has got Wolf hemmed up in his shed. Says Wolf attacked him.”

  In terms of the secluded bayou land, Paul’s neighbor was close by, but it took twenty minutes to reach Andrew Dulac’s small, well-kept farm.

  Dulac, a paunchy middle-aged man wearing khaki coveralls and rubber boots, came out of a white clapboard house and ambled through the half light as Caroline and Paul climbed out of Paul’s truck.

  Caroline warily eyed the shotgun Dulac carried in the crook of one elbow, but was reassured when Paul went up to the man and clapped him affectionately on the shoulder.

  After Paul introduced her, he and the farmer spoke in animated Cajun French for more than a minute. Dulac repeatedly pointed a hand to his disappearing red hair, then held out one arm to show a jagged tear in the sleeve of his plaid shirt. Caroline seethed with curiosity and vowed to learn some form of French, no matter how rudimentary.

  Finally Paul turned toward her, frowning. “Wolf tore Andrew’s sleeve and tried to catch him by the hair when he fell down. He’s taken a fancy to Andrew’s farm dog.”

  “She’s just a little part-shepherd bitch,” Dulac said in disgust. “Ugly thing, and not real smart. That Wolf, he’s got no taste, tryin’ to bite me ’cause I don’t want her bred.”

  Caroline frowned. She-friend hurts, Wolf had told her right after she arrived at Grande Rivage. “Is she in season?”

  “No, but must be coming in soon,” Dulac said. “Why else would Wolf act so crazy?”

  “Was he here a few weeks ago?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him off and on. Thought he’d get over the hots for her when I took her on vacation with me. Left my brother in charge here while I went to visit my mother’s people up in Canada. Just got back.”

  “And you say you took your dog with you?” Caroline confirmed.

  “Yeah.”

  She-friend gone. Hope she comes back.

  Paul ran his hands through his hair and left it a ruffled black mane. “Guess it’s time I bought him a mate. Been meaning to bring in a female wolf for him.”

  “Don’t be a snob,” Caroline said lightly. “Maybe he’s already found a mate.”

  “Oooh, I can’t give up Sin,” Dulac told her. He grinned. “As in ‘ugly as sin.’ She’s too good at catching rats.”

  “Where is she?” Caroline asked.

  Dulac made a huffing sound. “Hunkered down by the shed where ol’ Wolf is. Come on, Doc Blue. Get your wild stud and haul him back home.”

  Caroline met Paul’s gaze. She suspected that something was fishy about this situation, but she held her tongue. They followed Dulac through the grounds to a small white toolshed with a padlocked door.

  A slender form lay with her back pressed tightly to one side of the shed. Caroline inhaled sharply as she studied the scruffy, medium-sized female dog who bore a passing resemblance to a German shepherd. Caroline smiled at her.

  Sin. Come here, sweetie.

  Caroline heard Wolfs toenails scraping the shed’s inside walls. Help me. Help her. Help us. Her throat tightened at the desperate tone.

  Sin stood up, studied Caroline with pricked ears, then circumvented both Dulac and Paul to come to her. She limped badly. Caroline held out a hand as Sin sat down by her feet with quiet dignity. Sin nuzzled her fingers and looked up at her with intelligent black eyes.

  Mistress. I hear of you. You help.

  Caroline almost staggered. She’d never dreamed of finding another canine with Wolf’s sharp intelligence. Her hand began to shake violently as she peered closer in the failing light and saw the jagged, still-healing wounds running across Sin’s nose.

  Ugly and scarred. Just like me. Sin whined at the fervent emotions
that Caroline exuded. Caroline took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “What happened to her?” she asked.

  “Aw, she got in a fight with an old dog of my uncle’s. Didn’t help her looks much.”

  Caroline stared hard into Sin’s eyes. What hurt you?

  The rush of communication made her head swim. Caroline cupped her hands to her temples and tried to hold back the misery and fury that grew inside her. Lord, this was awful. She wanted to throw up, and fought for breath.

  Strong hands grasped her shoulders. “You okay?” Paul asked. “What’s the matter?”

  She wheeled drunkenly and clutched his shirt with both hands. Looking up at him, Caroline implored, “Buy her for Wolf. Or I’ll buy her.” She swiveled her head toward Dulac and said as calmly as she could, “How much do you want?”

  Dulac gaped at her.

  “Caroline.” Paul squeezed her shoulders gently. He made his voice low and private. “It’s the scars. I know. Shhh.”

  She shook her head. “Please, Talk him into selling her.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t sell m’dog,” Dulac protested.

  Caroline twisted toward the man and was vaguely aware of Paul’s arm circling her shoulders in a tight, somewhat rebuking grip.

  “Quit jerking us around,” she retorted. “Name your price, you bastard. I’ll pay.”

  “Stop it!” Paul’s voice was rough as he pulled her around to face him. “You can’t talk to people that way down here.”

  Dulac’s mouth thinned and he lifted his chin proudly. “I don’t do business with uppity women.” He tossed Paul the key to the shed. “There you go, ami. Take your wolf. Sin! Get back!”

  Caroline looked down into pleading eyes. Sin quivered, got gingerly to her feet, but never stopped looking at her for salvation. You are our only hope. Inside the shed Wolf emitted a blood-freezing howl. It was too much.

  Caroline turned away from Paul and shook both fists at Dulac. Then she called him half a dozen names that made his jaw drop down to his shirt collar.

  Looking stunned, Paul stepped in front of her and grabbed her fists. His gaze could have cut diamonds as he glared into her eyes. “I’ve known this man for years and he’s a good neighbor. You’re embarrassing the hell out of me. Either be quiet or I’ll put you over my shoulder and haul you back to the truck.”

 

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