They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. She’d said what she’d come to say. She should go. But her feet wouldn’t move.
“Why did you come here, Charlotte?” Joe asked again.
She gazed into his dark eyes and gave in to the recklessness that had driven her across town. “I want you, Joe.”
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to think logically or act reasonably or worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow.” She closed the distance between them, putting her hands on his face, her thumbs tracing over the dark stubble on his cheeks. She looked into his eyes. “I want to jump.”
His hands slipped around her waist, and he pulled her against him with rough impatience. “Then jump.”
She put her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his, giving in to the need that had been building inside her for weeks. Relief, exhilaration, anticipation took her from one kiss to the next.
Joe slid his tongue into her mouth, taking over with a cocky possessiveness that made her shiver. He would have her tonight, and she would have him. The thought sent another wave of desire to every nerve ending in her body. Her senses were filled with Joe, his taste, his scent, the strength of his hands, the power of his kiss, the hardness of his body against hers.
She slipped her hands under his shirt, delighting in the warm, hard planes of his abs and chest. A moment later, she was helping him pull the shirt over his head. He tossed it onto the ground and groaned as she ran her fingers through the dark hair on his chest. And then his hands were stripping off her coat, her sweater, her camisole, his fingers finally finding the front clasp of her bra.
She was awash with sensation, his mouth on hers, his fingers sliding along the edges of her bra in a teasing way that tightened her nipples and sent a shock wave of heat down her body. Finally, he opened the clasp, his palm cupping her breast. And then, his mouth was sliding down the curve of her neck, leaving a trail of heat.
“So beautiful,” he whispered as his mouth took her breast.
She ran her fingers through his hair, drawing in a deep breath as he ran his tongue around her nipple. Her legs felt weak. “God, Joe,” she murmured.
He lifted his head and smiled. “Let’s take this into the bedroom.”
He led her down the dark hallway into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. Moonlight streamed through the parted curtains, illuminating the king-size bed. Then Joe was kissing her again, his fingers pulling at the zipper on her jeans.
His hand slipped inside her panties, making her even hotter. She kicked off her jeans, impatient to be rid of her clothes and his. She pushed his jeans down over his hips and caught her breath at the sight of his beautifully rugged body. Then she was falling backward onto the bed, onto a soft, pillowy comforter that contrasted with the hard male body that came down over her.
Joe kissed her again, his hands roaming over her naked curves with impatience. “God, Charlotte, I want to go slow, but . . .”
“Next time,” she said, needing him now.
He grabbed a condom out of the drawer in the bedside table and quickly rolled it on. Then they reached for each other again, mouth to mouth, hip to hip, toe to toe. They moved in perfect unison, as if their bodies had been made for each other, as if they’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment, this intense, incredible connection. She loved his weight on top of her, the hairs of his chest rubbing against her breasts, his mouth seeking hers over and over again as he filled her body and her heart. She ran her hands down his back, his buttocks, her nails digging into his skin as the tension built between them. Her world was him. There was nothing else, no one else. A flash of fear that she was giving away too much was chased away by the way he said her name—with tenderness and with need and finally with fulfillment.
Loving his weight on her, she tightened her arms around him, her eyes closed as she just breathed in and out.
When he finally rolled over onto his back, he pulled her next to him. She rested her cheek on his chest, hearing the rapid beat of his heart. He stroked her back with a tenderness that made her feel cherished and protected. It felt so good—maybe too good. Nothing this amazing had ever lasted for her.
“You’re tensing up on me, Charlotte.”
He was right. She was letting her thoughts get too far ahead of the moment. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. She wanted to say something light, like what she usually said after sex, but this didn’t feel like sex. It felt like more.
Joe played with her hair. “So silky,” he murmured. “Like sunlight. That’s the way I think of you.”
Her eyes grew moist. “Joe—”
“Shh,” he said, putting a finger to her lips as he gazed into her eyes. “It’s okay. It doesn’t have to mean any more than you want it to.”
What if I want it to mean everything?
She drew in a deep breath and put her head back down on his chest. Closing her eyes, she told herself to enjoy being close to him and worry about meanings tomorrow.
Joe woke up naked and alone in the early dawn. It was six-thirty, and Charlotte was gone. Rolling over, he pulled her pillow close. It smelled like her—like warm, flowering sunlight. His body tightened as memories of their night together flashed through his head.
His only regret was that he’d fallen asleep. He’d wanted to make love to her again, to take his time, to taste her, tease her, torment her. But that would have to wait for another time.
And there would be another time. He shoved away a niggling doubt. What they had together was fantastic, and Charlotte had been right there with him. God, he loved seeing her so passionate, so caught up in the moment, caught up in him. She hadn’t held back, and neither had he.
Rufus meandered into the room and nuzzled his hand. “You could have barked when she left,” he said.
Rufus woofed in response.
“A little late. Some watchdog you are.”
Rufus hung his head, and Joe scratched him behind the ears. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get her back.”
He just had to get to her before she had too much time to think. He threw on running clothes and shoes, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.
At Charlotte’s house, her car was there, but all was quiet. She could be inside . . . in which case, he was about to get a lot of exercise for nothing. But he had to take the chance, so he headed down the same route they’d run the day before.
Charlotte’s legs were aching by the time she hit the bluff. She’d pushed the last mile as hard as she could, needing to burn off the worry that had hit as soon as she’d woken up in Joe’s bed. She’d wanted to stay curled up next to his warm body, his arm around her shoulders, but she wasn’t ready for a morning-after conversation. So she’d run—literally.
Slowing down, she walked the last few yards to the beautiful wild garden by the sea. Looking at the colorful flowers sparkling in the dawn light, she felt the same peace that the garden always brought her. She sank onto the ground and stretched out her legs, gazing at the sea. The nearby cliffs were steep and rocky, jutting in and out along the coastline. Fifty yards below, the ocean surged against large boulders, only a narrow strip of beach visible a few hours of the day.
About half a mile down the coast was a much wider beach, with gentler waves. Her generation had called it Bonfire Beach because they went there in the spring and summer to build bonfires and drink and swim. It was far enough out of town and a little hard to reach by foot, making it a great place to get into trouble. She wondered if the kids still went there, or if they’d found some other place to call their own.
With a sigh, she stretched forward, touching her toes with her fingers, feeling the stretch in her hamstrings. Her muscles ached, but she felt invigorated, too. Not just from the run but from Joe. Making love to him had changed her in a way she couldn’t define, but she felt different—more alive, more in tune with her senses.
But she wasn’t falling in love, she told herself firmly.
Sex was about lust, not love. They were two separate things and she had to keep them apart.
As she looked at the garden again, a flash of white caught her gaze. “Mary Katherine,” she breathed.
The figure seemed to take a more solid shape the longer she looked at her. Mary Katherine was blond, with freckles and wide-set brown eyes. Her dress was old-fashioned and rather dirty, especially where it touched the ground.
“I hoped you’d come back here.”
“You’re not real,” Charlotte said, still trying to convince herself.
“And you’re not a kid like me anymore. But you still remember me, don’t you?”
“I made you up. You were my imaginary friend.”
“I was sad the day you came here and cried about your baby.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Because I was here. Only you couldn’t see me anymore, because you stopped believing in love.”
“Are you really an angel?” She couldn’t believe she was asking the question.
Mary Katherine nodded. “My mom and I died when our ship got caught in a horrible storm. It was so frightening. The waves were like huge monsters.”
“Your father and brother didn’t die. Why did you? The women and children were supposed to go first.”
“I didn’t want to leave without my dad, so I ran to find him. My mother came after me. She should have gotten on the boat, but she loved me too much to leave without me.” A shadow crossed her eyes. “I couldn’t find my father or my brother. My mother grabbed my hand when the ship broke apart. The water was so cold.” She shivered with the memory. “And then there was nothing. My father found my mother’s body on the beach right there,” she said, pointing below. “He carried her up here and laid her down, and he cried over her body, saying he was so sorry. Later he buried her in the cemetery with the others. But he came back here and planted flowers for her. I make sure they never die.”
“Your mother died here, but what happened to you?”
“They never found my body.”
“So are you a ghost or something?”
Mary Katherine smiled. “I’m not haunting anyone. I help people.”
“How do you do that?”
“If they can believe in me, they can believe in magic, and magic is love. Do you love him, the man you were with yesterday?”
“I’m afraid to,” she admitted.
“So you still need me,” Mary Katherine said.
“I guess I do.”
“Some things you have to do yourself, Charlie. He’s coming now. Don’t run away from him.”
“Charlotte!” Joe’s voice drew her head around, he was running toward her.
Glancing back at Mary Katherine, she saw that her angelic friend was gone . . . if she’d been there at all.
She got to her feet as Joe drew closer.
“I had a feeling you’d be out here,” he said.
“You seem to know me pretty well.” Her heart took a tumble as she gazed into his eyes and remembered everything they’d done together.
“I wish you’d woken me up before you left.”
“You were sleeping so peacefully. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I would have made you breakfast.” He paused, searching her face. “Regrets, Charlotte?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just not very good at the morning-after stuff, so I try to avoid it. No one quite knows what to say or do. Kind of like now.”
“I know what to do.” He took her hands and pulled her close to him. He gave her plenty of time to move away, but she stayed and watched the slow descent of his mouth with complete and utter delight. And when his lips touched hers tenderly, all she wanted to do was kiss him back hard and deep, long and slow. And when they parted, she let out a long sigh.
“You do know what to do,” she said, tightening her arms around his neck.
He smiled. “That was the easy part.”
She nodded. “Words are harder.”
“We don’t need any words right now.” He turned her around to face the sea. “Look at this view. We live in one of the best places on earth. We should appreciate it.”
“I do,” she said, soaking in the sight. But it wasn’t the view that was making her so happy; it was Joe. She stayed in his arms a few minutes more, then finally glanced at her watch. “I hate to say it . . .”
“But you need to get back. So do I, unfortunately.” He took a breath. “Charlotte, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did last night when I saw you and Andrew together. I acted like an ass. It was uncalled for.”
She put her hands on his face. “Joe, I came to you last night. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”
“I’m afraid to guess.”
“I told Andrew that I was interested in you.” Surprise flared in his eyes. “You did?”
“Yes.”
He let out a breath. “Okay, then.”
“Okay.” She dropped her hands and stepped back. “Let’s go.” She took off at a medium pace, with Joe alongside her. She’d spent most of her life as a solo jogger, but it was nice to have company. They didn’t talk, but there was no tension, just a mutual enjoyment of the quiet morning.
When they reached city streets again, she slowed down as a For Sale sign on an old car caught her attention. She crossed the street. “Isn’t this a Mustang?” she asked Joe.
“Looks like it’s from the seventies.”
“It’s for sale.”
“I can see that.”
“Well . . .” she prodded.
“What? You want to buy it?”
“I was thinking you should buy it and fix it up, like you used to do with your dad. Maybe you could even invite him up to work on it together.”
“I haven’t worked on a car in years,” he protested.
But she could see the interest growing in his eyes as he walked around the car, checking it out, and she wished she had a pen to write down the telephone number.
“This car would take a lot of work, a lot of time,” he said.
“And you don’t have time? You don’t like work? Why are you hesitating?”
“I let this hobby go. It got in the way of my life.”
“Your old life,” she said.
He met her gaze. “In my experience, women don’t like to come in second to an old car. I saw it with Rachel and with my mother.”
“Well, if I was with a guy who wanted to work on a car, maybe I’d work on it with him.”
He grinned. “You’d be bored in two minutes.”
“Quite possibly, but it might be fun. However, this car is for you—not me. Everyone should have something they like to do besides work. Think about it, Joe. You don’t have to answer to anyone but yourself.”
“That’s a strange thought.”
“And while you’re thinking about buying this car, you might want to consider looking into some furniture for your house that doesn’t look like it belongs to an eighty-year-old man.”
“Now you want to redecorate my home?”
“You moved here, but you didn’t really move in. A few things in your house are yours, but most of them were your uncle’s, right? It’s time to make the place your own.”
“Look who’s talking. You live with your mother.” He tilted his head, and his gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “Where’s your furniture? You must have had an apartment.”
“It’s in storage,” she said. “And I am not planning to live with my mother for very much longer.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“Still to be decided.”
“Tomorrow,” he said with a laugh. “Your favorite phrase.”
Joe gave the car’s hood a loving pat as they jogged past it down the street. Charlotte hoped he’d call and find out the price. She had a feeling he needed that car as much as it needed a new owner.
“I assume you parked at my house,” she said as they turned the corner.
“I did.”
“
So much for not adding to the gossip about us.”
“Yeah, I should have thought about that,” he said with an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“Maybe no one will be up yet.”
Her hope went by the wayside as they turned the corner. In fact, there was a small crowd gathered in front of her house—Annie, her mother, and a couple of neighbors.
“What’s going on?” she wondered. As she drew closer, the pack of people shifted, revealing two men in uniform, one on crutches. “Oh, my God—it’s Jamie! My brother—he’s home!” She sprinted the rest of the way. “Jamie!” she called out.
Her brother turned his head and gave her a big grin.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, coming to a breathless halt in front of him. She wanted to hug him, but he was leaning on his crutches, a cast on one leg, and there were bruises and cuts on his face. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing, Charlie.”
He was lying. She could see the pain in his eyes and the weary lines of his face. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Let’s get you into the house, Jamie,” her mother said quickly. “Everyone can come by later,” she told the neighbors. “He needs to rest.”
As the crowd dispersed, Charlotte’s gaze moved to the man standing next to her brother. He was well over six feet tall, with a strong, powerful build and light brown hair that was longer than the usual military cut. He was older than Jamie, maybe early thirties, with green eyes that looked as weary as her brother’s.
“Lieutenant Gabe Ryder,” her brother said, catching her curious look. “My sister Charlotte.”
“Nice to meet you,” Gabe said.
“You, too.”
“The lieutenant saved my life,” Jamie added.
Gabe shrugged. “You’re delirious, Adams. Must be the painkillers.”
“And you hate to be the hero,” Jamie said.
“I’ll feel more like a hero if you let me help you into the house,” Gabe said.
Jamie nodded, his lips drawing tight as he handed one crutch to Charlotte, then put his arm around Gabe’s shoulders. Gabe took the brunt of his weight as they made their way to the house, Annie and her mother following close behind.
Garden of Secrets Page 21
