“Can you see the Eiffel Tower?” Cassie asked, repeating her standard question when he was in Paris, rather than voicing her disappointment.
“No. But I did see the Champs Élysées.”
Cassie’s eyelids fluttered shut. Missing him desperately, she wished she was there with him. How would it be to walk with him down the Champs Élysées? Hand in hand with the handsome man who was no longer a stranger?
“Cassie? Are you there?”
“Yes...yes. I was just thinking about you...about Paris.”
“That sounds like a good combination to me. You, me, Paris.”
Cassie tightened her grip on the phone. “Uh, the boys really miss you.”
“Just the boys?”
She gulped. “We all do. Katherine Ann asked about you again today.”
“She already packing for Russia?”
“Several times so far. Then she decides it’s all wrong and starts over again.”
“Maybe she needs a new wardrobe for the trip.”
“Blake—”
“Put that one on hold. I didn’t call to argue.”
Cassie clutched the receiver. “You didn’t?”
“You know—”
Crackling static drowned out the rest of his words. He repeated her name several times, and then the line went dead. Cassie caressed the receiver, unconsciously trying to reestablish the contact, then reluctantly dropped the phone back in place. He would be home in a few days, and she suspected she would know then what he did intend. And despite the herd of butterflies in her stomach, she wanted to know...needed to know.
BLAKE CURSED LONG AND LOW at the phone, knowing the weather was playing havoc with the phone lines. But a logical explanation didn’t relieve his frustration.
Although he hadn’t wanted to leave L.A. while he felt so unsettled about Cassie, he’d had no choice. And once in Paris, he’d found himself reaching for the phone as often as his briefcase. It was difficult to devote the singleminded attention to his work that had always been second nature to him. Instead, he found himself thinking of Cassie, wondering at the secrets she still kept hidden...and wondering why she didn’t trust him enough to confide those secrets. And whether she felt even a fraction of the unsettling emotions he did.
He’d tried to tell himself that it was nothing more than a physical attraction. But he knew better. He’d also tried to tell himself that with distance he could put things into perspective. But the distance just made him long to see her more.
The only thing he didn’t tell himself was that he could shut off the feelings. He didn’t even try.
But there was an alternative. For the first time since Elizabeth’s death, Blake called on an assistant to handle the crisis in the Paris office. For the first time since he’d been single again, he felt there was something... someone...besides his children, more important than his work.
Chapter Sixteen
Disappointment filled her, yet Cassie resolutely flicked off the light switch in the living room. She’d been so sure Blake would make it home that night. It wasn’t like him—at least it wasn’t anymore—not to show up without a call.
She left the hall light on, knowing the three oldest kids were still out. Katherine Ann and Jim had gone to Kevin’s soccer game to support him, since Cassie had taken D.J. and the twins to the Scout spaghetti dinner. She suspected the three older kids had stopped for something to eat afterward. Kevin still acted tough, but she knew he appreciated having someone root for him at the games.
Heading upstairs, she turned on one lamp in her bedroom, dousing the bright overhead light. Trailing into the bathroom, she filled the tub for a warm bath. As she reentered the sitting room that opened into the bedroom, her gaze skipped to the fireplace, and she saw that Pedro had laid fresh kindling.
Turning on the gas jet, she quickly lit the fire, then extinguished the gas. Impulsively she also lit a row of candles, soothed by their gentle glow and the scents of gardenia and magnolia. It was as though she’d opened a window to a night-blooming garden. With that thought, she opened one of the French windows just a bit to let in some breeze.
After soaking for a long time in luxury, Cassie climbed into an oversized robe, still searching for patience, finding only emptiness in its place. It was one thing to tell herself that she must keep a distance...and keep their roles strictly business. It was another to fall asleep each night dreaming about Blake, then wake to find herself missing him desperately. She could no longer deny her feelings.
A quiet knock on the door surprised her. But then, Jim and Katherine Ann often liked to talk to her at the end of the evening. “Come in.”
Blake eased inside. “You sure?”
She blinked her eyes, unsure whether she’d conjured him up out of her thoughts. “Is that you?”
“Last time I checked my passport.”
Although she wanted to rush across the room, she hesitated. “I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.”
“I got in earlier, but Kevin had a game.”
She blinked again. “You remembered?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. It’s a bad habit, I know, but you’re the one who got me hooked.”
Her smile slipped out on its own. “That’s great. Did you see Katherine Ann and Jim?”
“Sure, we all had pizza after the game.”
Cassie thought of the gourmet dinner she’d prepared, and pushed away the brief regret. It was far more rewarding to think of Blake with his son...and her children. “I bet they loved it.”
He patted his stomach ruefully. “Yeah. They weren’t on the edge of jet lag.”
“Oh, you haven’t slept. You must be tired and ready for...” Her words trailed away as she met Blake’s gaze.
“The kids went to bed about half an hour ago. I had to make a few calls.”
“Oh?” Despite her best efforts, she still sounded weak and breathy.
“It’s all quiet on the home front now.”
And their suites were in another wing, an entire hallway away from the kids. Private...isolated.
Cassie lifted her hands in a nervous gesture, then lowered them, unable to reply.
Blake shifted in the doorway. “Why don’t I just say good-night?”
Her feet moved awkwardly of their own accord, taking her closer to him. “If that’s what you want.”
Cassie knew she wasn’t imagining his low groan. “You’re killing me, you know.”
“I am?”
“It’s like your fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits. I know the cholesterol will kill me, but I’ll die one happy man.”
“You think I’m like fried chicken?”
“Well...now that you mention it...all crispy and hard to get through on the outside, tender and juicy inside. I don’t think it’s an unfair comparison.”
“Tender?”
He groaned louder this time. “I’m going to be waterlogged, I know it.”
“Maybe you should stay out of those cold showers.”
His eyes narrowed. “I should?”
Cassie thought of their tentative future, then the need, the want, the spiraling feelings, the risk she was taking. It was a choice she had to make, not one she could place on Blake. She closed her eyes briefly, then met his. “You should.”
Blake’s briefcase thudded on the floor, unnoticed, as he kicked the door shut. But he didn’t grab her and kiss her senseless, as she expected. Instead, he grasped her shoulders, giving them a gentle shake. “Maybe you’re not thinking straight.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Maybe I’m misinterpreting what you’re saying.”
“You’re not.”
Blake stared at her. “You wanted to forget everything that passed between us.”
She reached out a hesitant hand to his chest, fingering the fine merino wool of his European-tailored suit. “Do you want to forget?”
He answered her with a kiss, the one she’d expected when he walked into her room. The one she’d dreamed of since he le
ft the country. Then she met his unguarded eyes, seeing the love that neither of them had yet voiced.
Even as she told herself it couldn’t happen, Cassie had imagined this moment countless times while he was gone, but she’d seen herself gowned in a beautiful peignoir, rather than the shapeless terry robe she now wore. She made an ineffectual gesture toward the worn, oversize robe, but Blake stilled her hands. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Cassie?”
Her heart melted a bit more. “I wanted to look pretty for you. Instead, I’m wearing this...this...”
He sucked in his breath. “Ah, Cassie.” One hand slipped beneath the weight of her hair, caressing her neck, then twining through the length of her tresses. Gently he massaged the tense knot between her shoulder blades, knowing he was creating as much tension as he was relieving.
She swayed toward him, and every nuance of her body that he’d imagined now tantalized him. Breathing in her alluring scent, he had to remind himself that this moment was one to savor, since he wanted nothing more than to rip away their clothes, to end the frustration they’d been living with. The want was hot, feverish, barely controlled. And the need equaled the want.
When her hands tugged impatiently at his jacket, both feelings escalated. It took only a moment to snap off the lamp, leaving only candleglow, moonlight and the growing flames from the fire to illuminate the room.
Then Blake’s hands joined hers, pulling off his clothing. When only one garment, Cassie’s robe, stood between them, he reached for her belt, untying it. But, to his surprise, Cassie grasped the lapels, pushing the robe back to slide down her shoulders, over her back, to land in a pool at her feet.
Blake sucked in his breath. She was magnificent. While he’d expected her to be, the reality outshone his most vivid imaginings. Every trite expression of male approval, from babe to goddess, tripped through his brain, but they still fell short of expressing the awe he felt.
Emboldened by her move, Cassie reached out to stroke his muscular chest, warm velvet over steel. Not certain where her courage was coming from, she knew only that she wanted it to continue. She’d dreamed of this moment, feared it might happen, despaired that it might not.
And now nothing stood between them. Absolutely nothing.
Savoring the sensation of bare flesh that hungered for his touch, she knew Blake read her mind, as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Somewhere she registered the press of the mattress against her back, but it was overpowered by the meeting of flesh against flesh. Every fantasy she’d played out about him paled in comparison.
Then his hands began a masterful pursuit, blotting out any rational thought process. Each touch, each stroke, assaulted her overloaded senses. He was taking heat to an edge she hadn’t known existed, creating a flame she feared would sear her soul. When his thumbs skimmed over her breasts, traced a line over her rib cage, then danced across her hips, she could only quiver in response, feeling the temperature unbelievably, impossibly, continue to rise.
Then, just as unexpectedly, he turned the heat into tenderness.
Tenderness that was her complete undoing.
Whisper strokes caressed fragile collarbones, teased the valley of her waist, traced a line up her inner thigh until she was pliant as wax. And the tenderness melted her bones to a degree that eclipsed the heat.
Meeting his eyes, she found their dark sapphire depths held the tenderness he was playing out over her body. There was so much emotion there, she wished she could reach out and capture it, freezing the moment to savor always.
Blake marveled at her silky, sun-kissed skin, the sheen of each long limb, already anticipating the feel of her legs wrapped around his back. Each perfect breast filled a hand, and their dusky tips lured him to taste, but first he wanted his fill of looking, touching, absorbing the unbelievable delicacy that defined her lean, limber arms and legs.
In response to his exquisite tenderness, she trailed her lips down his throat, over the curvature of his chest, lingering at his nipples. The taste of him seeped inside her, jolting her, searing itself in her memory.
His hand glided down, cupping her, finding her moist and hot. When she arched against his palm, Blake reached out to taste in return, taking one perfect breast to suckle, rewarded by her sudden bowing, her whimper of pure pleasure. With his lips, he followed the path his fingers had just taken. At each curve, she trembled more. Pausing at the golden juncture of her thighs, he pleasured her until her trembling turned into a helpless quiver.
She could scarcely breathe as his tongue laved over her, eliciting a response from each tender spot. She felt herself drifting, floating, on the waves he created. The sensations were so intense, she wavered between uncertain borders of exquisite pain and pleasure. Then the boundaries were destroyed as Blake took away his mouth, fitting their bodies together, plunging inside with strokes that made her cling to his shoulders, then dig into his back in ferocious response. Embraced by strength, she could only grip him more tautly, reveling in his fullness.
Blake couldn’t believe she was so snug and delicious... so responsive. Her hips rose to meet each stroke, pushing them both faster, more furiously, her long legs wrapped tightly around his back as he’d imagined they would. She was a fulfillment of fantasies he had yet to dream. It took all his will to not rush, to hold back until he was certain she’d reached another ultimate peak.
The window, propped slightly ajar, allowed the tang of orange blossoms to spice the air, while woodsmoke drifted from the fire, surrounding and blending with their unique scent of love. Forgotten, the nearly gutted candles flickered, casting minuscule shadows.
Then her orgasm rippled around them both, sharp and ecstatic, fluid and joyous. Caught in the exquisite fist of her pleasure, Blake took them over the edge. And into the star-kissed sky, their hearts caged together for the ride.
Chapter Seventeen
Blake still rested inside her, and Cassie wished she could keep him there forever. Their bond seemed to strengthen in the tender aftermath. A bond she also wanted to keep forever.
Cautiously she kissed the ridge of muscle on his shoulder, rewarded when she elicited yet another shudder. When she moved ever so slightly, tightening her internal grip on him, he groaned.
“You’re going to kill me one way or the other, aren’t you?” He nuzzled the tender curve of her neck, lingering at the delicate shadows of her collarbones.
He started to ease himself away, but she reached for him in the same moment. “Stay.” Her silver eyes gleamed. “Please.”
As if he could deny her anything. As if he wanted to.
Staring into her eyes, he found them unguarded, shining with a promise he could only hope was real. When her eyelids fluttered shut in an unexpectedly shy motion, he kissed each one. When they opened again, he traced the contours of her face, his thumb lingering over the imprint of her lips, then reaching up to follow the line of her high cheekbones and the gentle curve of her neck.
Simply looking at her melted any bit of reserve he had left. She had completely and incredibly snared him. Not through design. No, her arsenal was far stronger than that. Far more lethal. Because she’d killed his doubt, freed his soul, letting him glimpse a glorious future. Dusting off his buried emotions, he felt a resurgence of hope.
Her hands were weaving whisper-soft caresses over his body, searching for sensitive spots and, when finding them, lingering, anointing each area. When she began nibbling a similar path, he felt himself harden. And saw the satisfied look of feminine power cross her face.
“I think you’re trapped,” he warned.
“I hope so,” she managed to answer, swamped by his slow, insidious movements.
He’d expected a protest about propriety, a reminder about the children in the other wing, the need to return to their own rooms. “There’s no reprieve in sight.”
She wound her arms around his neck, pulling his head down so that their lips grazed. “I hope that’s a promise.”
Unexpectedly, he rolled her o
ver, deftly placing her on top. “I never break my promises.”
Throwing her long neck back, she reveled in the new-found sense of control, her face a mask of pure passion.
Moonlight spilled through the parted curtains, bathing her in an otherworldly glow as she sat atop him, her long, glorious hair streaming over her shoulders, tempting him with occasional glimpses of her breasts through the golden tangle. When he thought he couldn’t take more of her sweet torture, she threw her head back triumphantly, swinging her hair to glide over her back, allowing him full access.
Greedily he reached for those dusky peaks, then skimmed his hands over her rib cage to her sloping hips, reveling in each purely feminine curve. As his magnificent goddess sprinkled him with moondust, the stars swayed with the impact, seeming to topple in the midnight sky.
CASSIE TESTED her new capacity for hope and trust and found that they both held. It had been a week of new heights, new hope, new belief. It was as though the past that dogged her had finally let go its death grip. Relaxation penetrated a newer, deeper layer, one that had never before completely lost its wariness.
Cassie allowed herself to look at Kevin and the twins as more than just her charges, allowing them an even larger place in her heart. Although she’d secretly thought of them as her own for some time, now it was as though she’d been given permission to let that attachment show. She was tempted to pinch herself black and blue, yet it was still real, better than any dream.
The phone rang, interrupting her reverie. When she heard Blake’s voice, warmth infused her voice. “It’s the middle of the day. I’m surprised you found time to call.”
“I have to catch a plane tonight—to Paris.”
She fought the disappointment, trying to sound supportive. “Business beckons.”
“Come with me, Cassie.”
Excitement leaped for a brief moment, then faded. “D.J. and the twins have their play—the one they’ve been rehearsing for weeks. And Kevin’s big game is this Thursday.”
A muffled curse crackled through the lines. “Those would be this week. I had it all planned out—the Eiffel Tower, of course. The Left Bank, and the...”
His-And-Hers Family Page 20
