by R. Casteel
“I feel the same way myself,” Charles said, accurately reading her blissful expression. “The view’s so beautiful it’s hard to find words to accurately describe it.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” she agreed, turning around to give him a smile.
“Breakfast is ready.” The smile she radiated towards him created a hunger that food wouldn’t satisfy.
His hands were clammy and he found it hard to swallow. He kept thinking about her wearing his robe, and nothing underneath. Although there was no physical impression on his chest, he felt as if he had been branded. Last night it had taken all his will power to cover her and walk away. He had tried to sleep on the couch but gave up. He spent the night sitting on the window ledge staring out into the darkness, fighting the demons of his desire.
They finished breakfast. “Charles that is the best breakfast I have eaten in ages. I was, ah, wondering if I might have my clothes? I feel a little underdressed walking around in your robe all day.”
“Your clothes are dry but I don’t think that’s going to help the situation very much,” he said.
She looked at him with a question in her eyes.
“Do you remember the blouse you had on when you had the accident?” he asked.
All of a sudden, she remembered. Damn him! He would have to have a smile on his face.
“I have a sweater that you can use.” He started to leave the room. “I think your blush is quite alluring.”
Cynthia felt more secure now that she was dressed, more able to deal with the knowledge that Charles knew her body almost as well as her doctor-brother. She tried to forget the way he took care of her, the way he looked at her, not with just mild interest but with a bold blatant look that stripped away the clothes from her body. She didn’t want to be reminded of the desire she had seen in his eyes as they had slowly caressed her, because then, she would have to face her own confused feelings. Last night she had been ready to accept the challenge, ready to explore these new emotions. This morning, well she wasn’t quite as sure.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror and laughed. The sweater was a mile too big. “I look like a corn cob in a gunny sack, nothing sexy about this.”
Charles saw her standing at the head of the stairs and heated desire enveloped him. When he realized that he was visualizing undressing her, he turned away with a guilty look.
“The way I see it, you’ve two options for the day. TV or a book, unless you’re into computer games.”
“What kind of games?” she responded.
“There are the old standbys: Solitaire, Cribbage and Chess. Then there are the arcade type games: Asteroids, Packman, Flight Simulator Two Thousand, and NASCAR. Just to name a few.”
“Well, there is such a wide variety, I’m sure I can find something,” she emphasized with a light voice and a smile teasing the corners of her mouth.
“I leave you to find what you’re looking for.” Charles turned his attention to the bookcase and without looking at titles, took a book down. Opening it to a marked page, he started reading. Easing into a chair, he sat down and started taking notes.
She sat down at the computer and glanced through the other programs on his computer: Designer graphics, Blueprint designer, Advanced Engineering Specifications.
She was itching to see some of the buildings he designed, but he was sitting where he could see the screen. She figured he would be a little peeved if she went snooping through his files. She scanned his game listings and found what she wanted but didn’t see the controller.
This was why Charles didn’t want anyone around. He couldn’t concentrate on the material in front of him. Instead, Charles found himself watching her over the top of his book. “Can I help you find something?” he asked.
So, he wasn’t as engrossed in the book as he had let on. “I was looking for the controller for Flight Simulator.”
Charles put the book on the table and with a surprised look on his face, went over to the cabinet under the bookcase. He brought the controller over and plugged it in.
“Thank you,” she moved the curser and selected the game.
He went back to his book but she could tell he was keeping an eye on her.
She started the game and within minutes, she was oblivious to everything around her.
This ought to be interesting; I figured solitaire or Pacman, maybe chess. But Flight Simulator? Charles had his pilot’s license and there were places in that game where even he crashed and burned.
Damn she’s good! He was drawn out of his seat by the intensity with which she played. He watched as she expertly took the plane through several tight turns and attacked her opponent, quickly and decisively destroying him.
She was instantly aware that Charles had come up behind her. The longer he stayed there the more nervous she became. She made a wrong move and was destroyed.
“Where did you learn to play like that? That was excellent flying.”
“My brother has this game on his computer, although it doesn’t run the game efficiently as yours. I have never seen it look so real before,” she said.
“You’re right. It does bring the game more to life. That’s because the graphics are being run through the Engineering Graphics program and not a regular game package.”
“How much memory does it take to run this graphics program?” Cynthia looked up at his face. It was illuminated with passion and pride.
“It’s got two hundred and fifty six MB Ram, a hundred and twenty GB hard drive with a Pentium III processor,” he replied. “It’s the latest in engineering technology for designing three dimensional structures. Let me show you.”
Charles rapidly selected several keys. The screen went blank and then a skyscraper appeared on the screen.
“This is our latest project. If it is accepted, we will begin construction in about a year.” He selected another set of keys and the outer structure of the building disappeared.
“Say we wanted to change the design on the twentieth floor.” He typed in the floor; the screen cleared leaving only that floor displayed. If we want, we can rotate three hundred and sixty degrees, move walls or doors. Add furniture, pictures, and desks, placing them wherever we want. If we want to move a load-bearing wall, the program will tell us that also, and not allow the change.
“Suppose,” she studied the diagram, “you have to move a wall, and it says you can’t.”
“First off, it will tell us why we can’t. Then it’s my job to design a way so we can. It might mean adding a support column, an extra beam in the floor above or a complete redesign of the remainder of the building,” he chuckled. “Hopefully by the time we get to this stage, those types of major changes will have been completed.”
Time seemed to fly as Charles showed her different design programs and buildings housed within the confines of the computer’s memory. The longer he sat next to her the more she became aware of his leg pressed intimately against hers and the occasional brush of his arm against her breast. It became difficult to concentrate on the computer.
He selected the Landscaping program and she forced her full attention back to the screen.
“This program allows the placement of trees, gardens, walkways, fountains and ornamental lighting.” With a press of a key, the picture changed from day to night. Showing what the building would look like with the lights. Another key was selected and the trees grew right in front of her eyes like a time-lapse photo. “Go ahead and play with it. See what you can do.”
After awhile Charles stopped her, brought up the first building he had shown her, and selected the main lobby. “Let’s see what you can create in here.”
She looked up at him with a puzzled frown, eyebrows pulled together.
“The owners of this building are the members of the Orient Circle Trade Cooperation,” he explained. “This will be the new California office in San Francisco. The challenge is to provide a mix of six nations together in one lobby. Needless to say, a heavy Oriental m
otif blended with a West Coast flavor.”
“You want me to—to do this?” she asked in amazement.
“If you want,” his eyes bore into hers. “I saw what you did with the landscapes and lighting when you were just playing. You showed originality and an eye for contrast and appeal. If it looks good and the owners go with it, it will be very profitable for you,” he laughed.
“Profitable?” she questioned. “In what way?”
“I think we might say as an interior decorating consultant we could pay you ten percent of the decorating cost.”
It was a moment before her mind was able to digest the information. “Ten percent,” she breathed. She looked back at the screen and the huge expanse of floor space. “The whole lobby?” she gulped.
“If they accept it without any changes there will be another five percent bonus.” He eyed her response. “Do you want to try? Cost is not the issue in this.”
Her eyes lit up with wonder and excitement. “If you’re serious, when do I start?”
“It’s an hour ‘til lunch,” he looked at the time indicated on the computer. “Now, if you want.”
* * * * *
“You ready for lunch?” he asked. “Nothing fancy, soup and sandwiches.”
She looked at the time, surprised that the hour had gone by so fast. “Sure, need any help?”
“Not unless you want to throw together a quick salad,” he replied.
“Sounds fine with me.” She saved the work she had done. “Let’s raid the pantry.”
While Charles fixed the soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches Cynthia found the makings for a salad. She only needed Charles’s help a couple of times cutting the veggies.
“How’s the project going?”
“I’m having fun, but” she laughed, “it’s a little slow with one hand.”
Charles carried the food to the table. “You’ve an eye for landscaping. Have you ever done any?”
“Mother says I have a green thumb.” She sat at the table and started eating. “It started in art class at school and that carried over to actually planting flowers around the house. I tried planting flowers around the corral but the horses ate them.”
“I remember Bear mentioning your family raised horses.” That explains the calloused fingers and work-toughened hands.
After lunch, Cynthia went back to the computer. She had an idea for a waterfall against one wall. The computer flashed a warning on the screen. Muttering an unladylike oath under her breath, she caught Charles’s attention.
“Problem?” He raised a surprised and questioning eyebrow.
“I wanted to put a waterfall against a wall and it flashed a warning on the screen,” frustration evident in her tone.
“Let’s see what you got.” Charles got up and looked at the screen. He was impressed with what she had done. He pressed a key to find the reason for the warning. “Okay, behind this wall are the elevators. The waterfall and holding pond will require a large amount of plumbing to handle the volume of water. There isn’t enough room in the wall to handle it.”
He saw the disappointment mount in her face.
“But if we add another wall here…” He moved the curser, right clicked on the mouse, and hit another set of keys. “That gives us enough space between the two walls to handle the plumbing. The pumps can be placed in the basement to reduce the noise.” The warning sign was gone and a twenty-foot waterfall filled the space of the new wall. He looked at what she had done and knew his assessment of her ability was correct.
“Well?” she asked hesitantly. She watched his face for some sort of sign. She saw the muscle at the corner of his mouth twitch. His wide-eyed gleam gave the clue to his satisfaction.
“I think I’ll need to write you out a very sizable check: I love it.” Charles wasn’t looking at the screen. He was staring into the fathomless depths of her eyes. As if drawn by some irresistible force, the mere inches that separated them disappeared. He kissed her. “Beautiful.”
Shaken by the kiss that had been light and feathery against her lips, her hands trembled as she saved her work and turned off the computer. Her mind was in too much turmoil to concentrate on trees, shrubs, the right amount of lighting and its placement.
Walking over to the bookcase, she was conscious of his eyes following her every movement. With a quick sideways glance, she caught his thoughtful, calculating observance.
How many times had she seen the same look on a rider’s face, before he climbed onto the back of a new horse? The thought of comparing herself to a wild horse being ridden for the first time brought heat rising up her neck. Quickly turning her back to Charles, she focused on the books.
Her eyes caught a favorite of hers, Lonely on the Mountain, one of the Sackett series by Louis L’Amour. Taking it downstairs, she curled up on the couch. Forcing her mind away from Charles’s kiss, she was soon lost in the story of a trail ride across the Dakota plains.
Charles watched her from his chair. She looked very comfortable curled up reading a book. He had to hand it to her she hadn’t complained about being stuck here, and the arm was bound to hurt. Several bruises had begun to show the last time he had checked her out.
Maybe I should check her over again to see how she is doing.
He chided himself over the last thought. At best, it was a lame excuse to touch her but any reason that resulted with her in his arms would do.
Cynthia was aware of every trip he made downstairs, and he had made several through out the afternoon. Twice to put wood in the fireplace and once to go outside and tend the furnace that heated the house. Twice he had gone to the kitchen for a drink.
He seemed nervous. Tension radiated from him like a physical force, waiting to be released.
She looked up at him and started to put the book down. Charles shook his head to tell her he could handle supper even before she could ask.
Chapter 4
Charles needed some more time to think. He had been doing a lot of it during the afternoon and still hadn’t found a definitive answer to his dilemma. He was attracted to Cynthia and he thought she was attracted to him. But where did this Jeff person figure in, who was Shannon? He was also having a problem with her being Bear’s baby sister. In college, Bear had been a close friend both on and off the field.
With the meal over, they went back to the living room. “This is David Reinhart for the six o’clock evening news. The top story tonight is the recent storm that has crippled Denver and much of Colorado. Tens of thousands of people are still trying to dig out of what is being called the worst snowstorm in decades. Thousands of homes and businesses are still without power. As reports come in from all across Denver, the number of deaths caused by the storm’s destructive power is rising by the hour. Several of the victims were found by rescue workers as they attempted to reach the hundreds of vehicles stranded on the highways… For an update on the rescue attempt we go to…”
“I don’t think you’ve been quite honest with me Cynthia.”
She looked confused and started to answer.
“You haven’t complained any and I admire you for that but I think you’re more sore from your accident than you’re letting on. You know,” he added, “there’s a hot tub on the deck.”
She smiled, “That sounds wonderful but it’s buried under all that snow.”
“Snow can be removed.” Charles got up and put his coat on. “I’ll only be a few minutes.” He had built the hot tub for himself and hadn’t planned on sharing unless it was with his baby sister. Since her flight route had changed to the Middle East, even those infrequent visits had stopped.
He came back inside and was shaking off the snow when he noticed that look in her eyes.
“You have a question? Let me guess. You were wondering what you were going to do for a suit, right.”
“Yeah.” Surprise was evident in her voice.
The fact that he was starting to connect with her feelings had him worried. Although she had been here only two days, he w
as starting to read the expressions on her face, especially those in her eloquent eyes.
They seemed to change from one moment to the next. What would they reveal in the depths of passion? The heat of that thought went to the core of his soul and stirred smoldering embers into a flame molten desire.
“Just do the same thing as in the bedroom only in reverse. I’ll close my eyes as I help you into the tub.”
She nodded okay, and put his robe back on. Only this time she felt exhilarated, instead of self-conscious. His kiss had awakened something inside her.
Jeff had been a good kisser, but I always felt…used. The word came as a surprise to her. An eye opener revealing the truth of their relationship, she had been an ornament, a decoration.
He wrapped her arm in a plastic bag, grabbed a large bath towel out of the dryer. “You ready?”
She answered with a slight nod, afraid to trust her voice. As he reached down and lifted her in his arms, he watched her face. “Yeah, I know you can walk, but the snow is deep and I don’t want you falling and breaking something else.”
Cynthia put her arms around his neck and whispered, “Thank you.”
With the hot breath of those two little whispered words, the desire that burned within raged out of control. He was grateful he had on clothes. Otherwise, she would have no doubt how affected he was by her being in his arms. He needed to get back inside or else go stand in a snowdrift, anything to take his mind off of Cynthia.
He helped her into the steaming water.
“You can open your eyes.”
Charles started to walk away when she asked, “Will you join me? Please.”
“This is dumb Charles. Don’t do this.”
“I’ll stay on one side and she’ll stay on the other.”
“She’s Bear’s sister.”
“If she hadn’t said, ‘please’.”
“Let me get my trunks on, I’ll be right back.”
