by Alison Tyler
She laughed, reaching out her arms to encircle his neck. Her eyes grew serious as he met her gaze. "I'm not a goddess, Luke."
He touched her cheek.
"We know nothing about each other, you know." She started to drop her hands to her side, but he caught her wrists, holding her fast.
"I know all I need to know."
She kept her eyes on him. "This is a little crazy."
"As a friend of mine once said, there's nothing wrong with being a bit crazy. In fact, since yesterday, it's a feeling I'm adjusting to surprisingly well."
Another foghorn blasted as the boat pulled into the pier. Cat leaned way over the railing to watch it dock.
Luke grabbed her elbow. "Watch it. I like you wet, but I prefer you dry."
"Did you ever see the movie Message from the Deep?" she asked.
Luke shook his head.
"It wasn't one of the top ten last year, but I did do some fabulous stunts in it. One in particular— where I had to hang over the side of a sinking ship while a hideous sea creature set off huge tidal waves." She leaned back over. "Want me to give you a brief preview?" she teased.
"No," he said gruffly, the light mood of the evening taking a sharp detour. Luke preferred his fantasy without a reminder of reality. That was exactly how he saw this night—magical, romantic, utterly removed from his real world and Cat's madcap life.
By the time they'd walked from Pier 39's west marina to Ghirardelli Square, Luke had recaptured the fantasy. Cat caught hold of his hand, leading him toward the chocolate factory off the main plaza. Like two little kids they watched chocolate being made, and then Luke bought giant silver-wrapped bars to snack on as they wound their way around the terraces, browsing in the shops, peering in the restaurant windows, and watching the central fountain spew foamy sprays of water.
The dreary, overcast day had given way to a cool, starlit night.
"I love San Francisco," Cat said, stretching sinuously.
She's always feline, Luke thought with a smile.
"Paris and San Francisco are the two places I always leave my heart," she added. Now especially San Francisco, she added to herself.
Luke put his arm around her, his fingers sinking luxuriously into the fur. "Paris is a lovely place to visit. San Francisco is a lovely place to live."
"Good point. You're very smart."
"Thanks."
"And very perceptive," she said. "You look good, too, sick or healthy."
He smiled, then studied her thoughtfully.
"Are you analyzing me after all, Doc? Still wondering what makes me tick?"
"I'm beginning to figure that out."
"You sound—disappointed."
"No." He smiled wistfully. "Just resigned." He slipped his hand in hers. He had almost asked her when she was leaving the city, but at that moment he didn't really want to know. He hugged her against him, glad for this night.
They wandered back down to the pier, stopping to listen to some Dixieland jazz at Earthquake McGoon's. They both liked New Orleans blues, but neither of them could concentrate. A crowded, smoky room was the wrong setting for their mood. They had one drink and left after Luke checked in with his answering service.
"You probably have to get up early for filming. Shall we head back to your hotel?" Luke asked as they stepped outside.
"Even stunt women get a day off," Cat said. "But let's go back to the hotel, anyway. We could have a nightcap or some coffee."
Back at the Ambassador they walked by a small cocktail lounge near the elevator. Neither of them suggested going in for that nightcap.
At the door to her hotel room Cat handed Luke her key. He opened the door and followed her inside.
She turned to face him. "I don't want you to go."
He came toward her. "You couldn't get me out of here"—he paused as he undid the clasp of her jacket and slid the fur off her shoulders—"even if you threatened to jump out of your window."
Her soft, sensuous laughter became muffled as his lips captured the sound.
CHAPTER SIX
"No stunts now," Luke whispered.
Cat smiled and shook her head. She moved with a liquid grace over to the window and pulled open the curtains. A bright San Francisco moon lit the room like a stage setting before dawn. Etched in the light, Cat returned to Luke.
"That's better," she murmured breathily against his ear. "I want to see you clearly."
He undid the ribbon-thin belt of her dress, then slid his hand around back, reaching for the zipper.
"Did I tell you that you look exquisite tonight?" He unzipped the dress, pushing it off one shoulder. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips briefly against the swell of her breast. "You looked mighty good yesterday, too, in that cowgirl getup." He slipped the dress off her other shoulder. It crinkled as it fell to the floor. His hands moved from her shoulders, grazing her slender arms.
"What about now?" she asked seductively as she moved back a step and undid the front clasp of her bra, letting the flimsy black lace slip off.
All that remained was a pair of matching bikini panties that Luke removed before he answered her.
"Now," he whispered, his eyes wandering slowly down her body, "you are at your most beautiful."
Cat reached out and stroked his cheek. He had already taken off his jacket and shirt. She helped him remove the rest of his clothes.
She moved into his arms, fitting perfectly against him. Everything was perfect about this night.
So why did she feel a sudden wave of sadness? Luke must have sensed the change in her mood because he cupped his hand under her chin, tilting her head up so that their eyes met. "Cat, what is it?" he asked.
She shook her head, attempting a smile that didn't quite make it.
He stroked her back. "Listen to me. All my life I've carefully analyzed and weighed every step I took. Each goal was laid out, planned down to the minute. I'm thirty-six years old, Cat. So far, everything has gone according to my careful plans. Then yesterday I saw you, and I haven't been able to think clearly since." He bent and touched her lips. It was a sweet, tender kiss. "I don't think I've ever wanted any woman with the crazy intensity I feel for you. In case you haven't guessed, I am not usually this impulsive." He grinned. "I don't go around rescuing maidens and seducing them." He gently traced his hand over her breasts, feeling her taut nipples against his palms. "I want to seduce you. God, how I want to."
Cat pressed her body against him with a fierceness that took Luke's breath away. "This night is going to end." There was a catch in her throat. "I always used to like endings. It meant the excitement of starting something new, different. Now"— she kissed his neck, his chest, his lips—"we haven't even begun and I'm falling to pieces over it ending. I need help, Doc."
He lifted her up and carried her over to the kingsize bed, sitting down with her on his lap. He cradled her against him, stroking her hair. "We can grab the moment, Cat." He held her away from him as he spoke. "Or we can be sensible, rational…"
"Organized. Planning every step," she finished for him. "In case you haven't figured it out already, that isn't my style." She laughed softly as Luke brushed his lips against her throat. "I was raised on backlots of movie sets. Sometimes I'm not altogether certain where and when the fantasy ends and reality begins. So much is make-believe in my world."
He tumbled back on the bed with her, holding her tightly as she clung to him. "This may be fantasy," he murmured, "but it isn't make-believe. My feelings aren't make-believe. Neither are yours. And the fantasy—it's one we share together, one we can always keep, despite endings."
Her lips curved in a half-smile. "Maybe it's only in the movies that the two of us could come together. We're an odd match, Luke. The producer would most likely turn down the script, saying it's too improbable, far too unrealistic."
"I thought we were talking about fantasy, not realism," Luke insisted. "And in my fantasy, you aren't supposed to talk about plausibility." He placed his palm against the small of
her back, arching her to him.
She moaned softly. "Let's not talk at all." Pulling him closer, she whispered in a low, throaty voice, "Didn't someone just call 'Action'?"
Luke grinned. "Definitely."
He rolled her over on her back, feasting on her with his eyes, his hands, his lips. He did not want to miss a spot, needing to make every inch of her his own. For tonight. That thought brought a flash of private sadness, but he shrugged it off with determination. Tonight is all there is, and for once he was going to grab the moment without hesitation.
Her slightest touch aroused him to distraction. She delighted in his husky moans of pleasure as she explored his hard, firm body. Letting her hair trail down his chest, she slid her lips down to his stomach. His rippling muscles quivered at the feel of her tongue against his flesh. She ran her hands up his thighs, trailing her fingernails lightly along his flesh.
He kissed her, his tongue slipping deep into the recesses of her mouth. His hands caressed her full breasts, his palms skimming back and forth across her hardened nipples.
She whispered his name over and over, her passion skyrocketing, her body melting with a longing that made her think she might go truly mad with wanting him.
They had been ready for each other from the first moment. Now their kisses, their embraces became more demanding, the struggle to hold back any longer growing almost painful. When at last he filled her with exquisite joy, she surrendered fully to the magical fantasy of their night.
Afterward she snuggled against him, watching his fingers trace light lines down her arm. She sighed. "If you include tonight in your research, Dr. Eliot, that book of yours has got to be a smash hit."
She lifted herself on an elbow, studying his smile. Bending lower, she kissed the upturned edges of his lips, then slid her tongue from one corner to the other.
Luke grabbed for her. She lost her balance, tumbling over him. "I can never do enough research. And I'm learning so much. We really need to do further study, don't you think?"
"For science, Doc—anytime." She kissed him hard on the lips, then swung up one long leg almost to his shoulder. "Did I ever tell you I was double-jointed?"
"There may be ways to sexual fulfillment that I never even guessed at." He grinned, stroking her inner thigh. She arched her back, moving her body toward him in a way that clearly further proved her point—and drove him wild with hungry lust.
Cat made love without restraint. She was also the most inventive, agile lover Luke had ever known. He had seen her as a kitten, and now she was pure tiger—strong, insistent, powerful in her desire to meet all of their wants and needs. He responded with the same openness, discovering the special places that made her gasp for breath, cry out in husky sighs. He loved watching the expression of pleasure on her face as he made love to her.
A while later, his arms still around her, she fell asleep. Luke looked down at her hair feathered across his chest. He lifted a strand and coiled it lightly around his finger. She stirred a little and he drew her nearer. Cat sighed contentedly, a kitten once again.
Luke closed his eyes but he couldn't sleep. His mind slowly drifted in and out of reality. A picture of Cat sailing in space kept coming into focus. He still could not fathom how she could do some of the stunts her profession required. He had silenced Teri when she'd said the stunts could be dangerous, but he couldn't silence his own thoughts. Why couldn't she have been… what? A regular, everyday person with a nine-to-five career? Someone who didn't crash up cars, hang from precipices, run out of burning houses?
He started going over movies he had seen, imagining Cat as one of the stunt people in some of the more horrific scenes. She probably had actually stunted in a few of them. He found himself thinking that he was glad he didn't go to movies more often. And he doubted now that he would ever choose to go see the disaster films that were so popular nowadays. The stunts for those movies had to be especially dangerous.
"Are you asleep?" Cats voice broke through his thoughts.
He hugged her. "No."
"What are you doing?" She tilted her head up to see him, pushing her hair away from her eyes.
He lay still, looking at her. When he spoke, his voice was very low. "Do you ever get frightened?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"I mean, when you start to do a stunt, do you ever think it's too dangerous, too risky? Do you get scared?"
"Luke," she said, sitting up, "most stunts look scary to an outsider, but to those of us in the business, much of what we do is very routine, uncomplicated—and no riskier than crossing a city street at rush hour. If you wait for the right signal and don't dawdle, there's no reason in the world you won't make it to the other side in good shape."
"Uhm hmm." He nodded doubtfully.
"Okay. Some stunts can be tricky and a little dangerous," she admitted.
"The ones you particularly like—right?"
"I thought tonight was fantasy. Outside this room we both move in our own directions, doing the things that make sense to us. I love what I do, Luke. It's as much a part of me as—as breathing. There is nothing like the thrill and excitement of accomplishing a wild, daring feat. I could never live any other kind of life. Anything that even hints of routine makes me wilt. You don't want me to shrivel up, do you?" She pursed her lips in a teasing grimace.
"Never." He smiled, believing what she said was true, and knowing, as he held her against him, that all he could ever capture of her was this night of fantasy.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"Interested in more research?"
"No, food. Though afterward I might have some more energy for scientific pursuits."
He laughed, reaching over to the nightstand for his watch. The moonlit room provided enough light for him to see that it was three o'clock in the morning.
"It's kind of early for breakfast."
"Let's call room service," she suggested. "It's available twenty-four hours."
Cat wanted chocolate cake and champagne. Luke opted for the champagne.
"Tell them to put a scoop of ice cream on the side—pistachio, if they have it."
When he hung up the phone, he told her she would have to settle for plain vanilla. That was all they had.
"How dull." She sighed.
"You even demand excitement in your ice cream?" he teased.
"In everything," she said seriously. "Tonight fits that need of mine exquisitely."
He kissed her, drawing her to him. She reached her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She forgot about her ice cream and everything else as they started to make love again.
There was a light rap on the door a few minutes later. Cat groaned and started to lift herself off Luke. He pulled her back down.
"My ice cream is going to melt." She laughed as she struggled out of his grasp. Grabbing hold of the top sheet, she slipped off the bed.
"Hey! You cant leave me here naked like this."
She'd wrapped the sheet around her body, leaving him fully exposed on the bed. She giggled, looking back over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. "You look good to me."
He rolled across the bed onto the floor as Cat opened the door to the bellhop.
"Just wheel it inside for me," she said casually. "Oh, darling," she called in Luke's direction, "do you have any change on you?"
He mumbled something incoherent from his hiding place. Cat grinned. "That's okay. I've got some money in my purse."
The bellhop shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. What the hell was that guy doing under the bed? "Do you want me to—uh—open the champagne for you?" he asked timidly, stifling a yawn. He had been hoping to get some shut-eye down in the kitchen. Not too many people wanted chocolate cake and champagne at three in the morning.
"Darling," Cat called again in that lilting falsetto, "should the boy open the bottle?"
"No!" he yelled.
"No thanks, then," she said cheerily, walking over to where Luke was squatting down beside the bed, hiding
from the bellhop's view. "Just getting my purse, dear," she explained, reaching across his back. When she straightened up, she pinched his buttock, making him jump in surprise. She giggled. "Did you find that shoe yet?"
Cat tipped the bellhop generously and showed him out. She looked back at the bed, waiting for Luke to get up. There was no movement.
"Did you see the look on that boy's face? No, I guess you didn't." She took a few steps toward the bed. "Are you mad?" No answer. "It was only a joke." She moved to Luke's side of the bed. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the mattress, legs outstretched, arms stolidly crossed at his chest.
"You are crazy."
She tilted her head slightly with a contrite expression on her face.
"Come over here."
She hesitated. "My ice cream is melting."
"You don't like vanilla, anyway. Come here."
She walked over to him. When she was within reach, he grabbed for her leg. She fell down half on top of him, the draped sheet around her coming undone.
"I am going to have to do something about these audacious impulses of yours, young woman," he scolded lightly. "This is the second time you've put me in a very embarrassing situation."
"He didn't even see you," she countered, putting her fingers through his unruly hair.
"Mighty good thing he didn't." He reached under her knees and brought her fully onto his lap. "That bellhop happens to be the patient I saw in my office at seven o'clock this morning."
"Oh, Luke," she said, and broke out into a peal of giggling.
"It isn't all that funny," he said, feigning consternation. He couldn't suppress a broad grin. "Talk about compromising positions. Can you imagine that poor kid's reaction if he saw his psychiatrist hiding stark-naked under a hotel bed?"
They fell against each other laughing. When the laughter died down, Luke's expression became thoughtful.
"I'm sorry I put you in that position." She tried to apologize with a straight face, but her double entendre pleased her too much. She ended up laughing again.
