She opened her door, but paused on the threshold. John’s large hand cupped the small of Vivian’s back, guiding her down the walkway to their room. Such a protective and possessive gesture didn’t disturb Clarisse. Not in the least. It couldn’t, because that would mean she cared.
She shut the door behind her and looked around. Landscape prints hung on the beige walls. The carpet, threadbare by the front door and bathroom entrance was a darker hue of beige, while the table and chairs in the corner involved yet another shade. The only relief from the pallid color was a brown bedspread covering the queen-sized bed in the center of the room. Not exactly premier accommodations, but it would do. Especially when the room had a ceiling fan.
She turned the fan on and basked under the whirling blades, pulling her hair back from her shoulders so the cool air could reach her damp skin. Absolute heaven. All she needed now was a drink with heaps of ice.
After using the restroom and quickly running a damp cloth over her face, she left her room with an ice bucket. The vending machines were tucked away in an alcove. To the right of the machines, three walls painted with palms and vibrant flowers enclosed a rectangular pool. She spied John and Vivian swimming and stiffened. There was no getting rid of them!
Amid the laughter and splashing from the pool, someone called her name. She hesitated, loathing the idea of socializing with the couple, then continued across the cool deck.
“Hey, Clarisse!”
“Oh hell,” she muttered, veering over to the pool. She might as well go over and talk to them and get it over with. Then she could enjoy her company for the rest of the evening.
Vivian hung on the side of the pool, a relaxed smile on her face. “The water is absolutely gorgeous. You’ve got to try it.”
Clarisse returned the smile with a guarded one of her own. “I don’t think so.”
John’s strong-limbed body speared through the water and came up beside Vivian. Shaking his head, he splashed droplets by Clarisse’s feet. His teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. He looked too damned handsome and virile. Why couldn’t he look like a troll or something equally repugnant? A gargoyle would be fitting or what about something even more hideous? It would be so much easier for her piece of mind. That way she wouldn’t be constantly reminded of this physical attraction she had for him.
“Clarisse, grab a suit and jump in.” Pleasure gleamed in his eyes and deepened the corners around his eyes.
“Maybe another time.” She shifted.
“It’ll clear the cobwebs from your mind.”
Not pleased where the conversation was headed, Clarisse’s smile froze. “I don’t have a suit.” She’d thrown all of them out in a temper when she had come home from the hospital. Granted a childish act, but at the time she hadn’t been feeling like a rational adult. Months after the crash she had been under a huge tidal wave of self-pity. No matter how hard she had tried to swim afloat, it had engulfed her, almost drowning her with its power.
“Vivian’s got an extra, isn’t that right, Viv?”
The redhead didn’t look pleased with the question, though she answered pleasantly enough. “Sure. It might be a little tight in places.”
“I don’t think so.” Conscious of their eyes sliding over her body, she brushed her hip absently, searching for an excuse, anything to change the topic. “I need an early night. I’ve got a headache.”
“I think John’s got a bottle of aspirin somewhere.” Vivian glided up the steps to the pool deck. The emerald French cut bikini enhanced the redhead’s stunning figure. A group of teen-aged boys ogled her. Two middle-aged men on the other side of the pool stopped talking and stared as she walked over to a lounge and grabbed her towel.
Clarisse watched Vivian recline on the chaise and stretch her long, elegant legs out. Clarisse couldn’t begin to compete with a woman like that. Of course there had been a time, but not now with this damn leg of hers. The pressure biting into her skull intensified. Why did society put so much emphasis on beauty?
Two aspirin were beginning to appeal more than ever. She was running low on her own pills and didn’t want to use those unless it was absolutely necessary. “John, would you mind getting those aspirin?”
“Not at all.”
John hauled himself out of the pool. Water glistened off his broad chest and streamed down the length of his lean muscled legs. Black trunks clung to his narrow hips, buttocks and the contours of his male form. She swallowed down what felt like a ball of lint stuffed in her throat. His swimsuit was lethal. Or maybe it was what was in the suit? Very little was left to the imagination. Yet to her chagrin, her memory managed to fill in the remaining details.
Her gaze collided with John’s amused expression. Heat raced into her cheeks. She had to stop gawking at the man. She was beginning to look obvious to John and anyone else who chanced to glance her way.
“I-I—” Clarisse’s teeth clapped shut. She didn’t have a clue to what she was trying to say. Though, she did know she wanted to slap herself silly. Maybe then she’d make some sense.
She retreated to the vending machines for a soda and ice. When she turned back, John was rubbing his hair dry with a towel. A healthy glow radiated from his high cheekbones and torso.
“Come on, I’ll get that aspirin for you.” Barefoot, he padded over to the wrought iron fence.
She followed him down the walkway to his room, her gaze on the wide sweep of his back that tapered down to his black trunks. Brushing past his near naked body as he held the screen door open, she walked into a room that looked similar to her own, except in hues of faded green.
He shut the screen, but left the inner door open. He rummaged through his bags on one of two queen-sized beds, while Clarisse ventured into the room, feeling as if she were intruding into his and Vivian’s territory. Involuntarily, she watched the play of muscles along his back, shoulders and arms with an avid interest she didn’t like acknowledging.
“Will ibuprofen do?”
Placing the bucket and soda on a nightstand, she took the proffered bottle and looked at the label. The words blurred and melded into one large blob of meaningless gibberish. All she could think about was John a foot away. Memories of how it used to be between them washed over her, of the texture of his skin and the silken locks against her fingers.
She glanced over his naked chest. Not an ounce of fat, only rippling muscle beneath tanned skin. From his navel a V of dark hair disappeared into his swimsuit. She glanced lower...and swallowed. Looking up, she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. Her face felt hot to the touch. “Ibuprofen is fine.”
His face tightened with some indefinable emotion she could only begin to guess at. “Clarisse, don’t look at me that way.”
She swallowed. “Like what?”
His gaze roamed over her frame, lingering on her breasts and the gentle slope of her hips, then halting on her lips. He stepped toward her. “Like you want me to kiss you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Clarisse shook her head. The rhythm of her heart accelerated. Oh, hell! He looked like he intended to kiss her.
“I think you do,” John insisted in a deep, rumbling voice. The silver flecks in his eyes darkened to charcoal.
His large hands slipped around her waist and up along her back. Fingers splayed, he nudged her gently toward him, until her breasts flattened against the unyielding wall of his chest. Clarisse raked in a lungful of air. She didn’t do a thing to stop him. She didn’t want to. Desire swirled in the depths of her stomach.
His head dipped, blocking her view of the room. Tentatively, his lips brushed hers, tasting and touching. The kiss deepened. His tongue traced the fullness of her lips, parting her mouth and delving inside. Legs suddenly weak, she clutched his shoulders and kissed him back, letting sensual yearning take over all coherent thought. His arms wrapped around her, tightened and pulled her deeper into his embrace.
He broke the kiss, and trailed a fiery path over her throat to her ear. “Y
ou taste as good as I remembered.” He nipped gently on her lobe, shooting shivers down her spine.
“All day you’ve wanted me to kiss you,” he murmured into her hair. His lips grazed along the arch of her jaw and up to her mouth.
“No, I haven’t,” she whispered against his lips, his words unraveling the dormant hunger deep inside of her which had been waiting to spring free since she left him.
“Don’t lie.”
He took her mouth, slanting his lips over her own and smothering any protest she might have made.
The bottle slipped from her uncaring fingers and fell to the floor. Her hands, shaky and a little unsure, left his shoulders and swept up into the thick pelt of his hair. His hands roamed, trailing random patterns over her back, and massaging her shoulders and neck. Then they swept up to frame her face as his kiss hardened. She opened her mouth and met him hungrily, arching into his chest. His arousal pressed into her stomach. She whimpered deep in her throat. He still wanted her.
Need, stark and painful, twisted into a heavy knot in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t control the hunger. It had been too long since John had touched her, caressed her, kissed her like this. The taste and feel of him felt right. She’d been kissed since John, but those men had never left her hungry for more.
She pushed into him, wanting his naked flesh against her own, thrusting into her, filling her, and slaking her sexual hunger.
With trembling hands, he tugged the shirt from the waistband of her jeans and slid a palm up over her ribs to cup one breast. Her breath stilled, then hissed into his mouth when his thumb traced over the hard peak of her breast.
Suddenly, he pulled away, leaving her disoriented and aching. If it hadn’t been for his hand on her elbow, she might have fallen. Through dazed eyes, Clarisse met John’s flushed face in confusion.
Footsteps, dangerously close, echoed along the walkway outside. They paused by John’s screen door. Oh hell! It couldn’t be Vivian!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Clarisse dragged in an uneven breath and stuffed her shirt frantically into her pants. How stupid could she get? Pawing a man already involved with another woman was ludicrous. And messing with a woman like Vivian was equally crazy. She’d met her type before: high-strung, aggressive and dangerous when thwarted.
Vivian walked in and stopped. The screen door banged shut, crashing in the thick silence. Her eyes narrowed.
Unable to look at the redhead with a guilt free conscience, Clarisse hid her hot face by dropping down and retrieving the pills. The silence was unbearable.
“I didn’t realize getting a couple of aspirin took so long.”
A nervous laugh spluttered from Clarisse’s mouth, sounding fake and hollow. She palmed the bottle, rattling the pills, while she searched for words to ease the tension.
John remained silent. Other than a slight flush to his cheeks, he looked cool and casual. Clarisse wanted to hit him. How could he turn on and off so easily? Unlike him, her heart was racing wildly and her mind lay scattered into shards of fragile glass.
Clarisse cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll see you at three then. Thanks, John.”
“It was nothing.”
For a second, she thought he meant their kiss. Struggling for calm, she closed her eyes and reopened them to find Vivian glaring at her from the doorway.
She’d need a little more than a couple of aspirin to get through the remainder of the evening. More like a tranquilizer large enough to down an elephant.
“See you in the morning,” she muttered and hurried past Vivian. The screen snapped shut behind her. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know Vivian’s daggered gaze sliced into her back.
Hurrying to her room, she locked the door and sank into the nearest chair. She’d forgotten her soda, but there was no way in hell she would go back for it.
“I’m a fool,” she told the empty room. “A stupid fool for letting myself get near him. He must think it funny at how he can turn me on with the slightest touch. But that’s going to change. Today’s the last time I’ll let him within arm’s reach.”
She swallowed the pills, then went to bed for the evening. She stared at the darkened ceiling, tired but unable to sleep. Thoughts of what Vivian and John were doing in their room intruded into her mind. Swallowing a sob, she hugged a pillow.
Jealousy. It seeped through her skin and ate at her insides.
****
The shrill ring of the telephone blasted into her head. She fumbled about and managed to find the receiver to answer the motel’s wake-up service. Two-thirty already. Hanging up, she groaned and pulled the covers over her head, not looking forward to the coming day, but after a deep sigh, she struggled out of bed. She couldn’t laze around. John would be at her door. And the sooner they were on the road the better. It would make the trip that much quicker.
She pulled clothing randomly from her suitcase. At this point anything would do. Her wardrobe consisted of pants, pants and more pants. Very little variety. She shrugged, looking on the bright side. At least she never had a problem with what to wear.
She showered and slipped on underwear and a bra. Droplets still clung to her skin as she walked from the bathroom into the living area. Absently, she rubbed her dripping hair with a towel.
The doorknob rattled. Stunned, Clarisse stared with open-mouthed amazement. Somehow, the door she thought she had locked last night, swung open, astonishing Clarisse from her frozen position. Heart in her throat, she lurched across the room and grabbed her robe draped across the bed. Pain sliced into her leg. She fumbled with the sleeves. She couldn’t find the damn holes. Oh hell! Where had they disappeared to? John couldn’t see her like this!
Vivian stepped into the room, her lips spreading into a flat line.
Clarisse’s heart rate surged in anger at the sight of the redhead. How rude. She had no right barging into her room without knocking.
“Excuse me?” Clarisse pivoted, shielding her scarred leg. Arms flapping wildly, she shrugged frantically into the satin sleeves. She envisioned Vivian’s reaction if the other woman caught sight of her scars. She would gloat over Clarisse’s misshapen leg. “Doesn’t a person usually knock before coming in?”
“You must not have heard.” The redhead’s lips curved into a semblance of a smile, but her eyes regarded her with icy dislike.
Cinching the belt around her waist, Clarisse folded her arms in front of her. Her heart rate lowered to a more natural pace but didn’t calm completely. She didn’t like how Vivian’s speculative gaze skimmed her body.
“What’s wrong? You’re acting strange.”
Clarisse tensed, hoping her expression didn’t give her away. “Wrong? Why, nothing’s wrong.”
Vivian’s face tightened. Malice flared in her eyes. “Whatever you say, darling.”
“What do you want?”
Vivian looked around and sauntered further into the room. “John was wondering if you were ready.”
“I just need a couple more minutes.”
Vivian didn’t move.
Clarisse sighed. “What do you want?”
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”
Clarisse stiffened at something in the other woman’s cold, rigid expression. “What are you talking about?”
“You might have John confused at the moment, but not for long. He’ll soon come around and realize how good he has it with me. He’s not going to forget how your relationship ended.”
“He told you!”
Vivian threw her a satisfied smile. “But of course. He tells me everything.”
“I don’t believe you.” But deep down she knew John could have confided to Vivian. After all, why wouldn’t he? The two were lovers.
“Personally, I don’t care what you believe. I want you to leave him alone!” She advanced, stopping a foot away. She poked Clarisse in the chest with a red tipped finger. “I’m the one he’s going to be with. You better get that through your head or else.”
&n
bsp; Clarisse slapped her hand away. Chin rising, she stared back. “Or else what?”
“If you think that door against your leg was painful, then think again. I’ll make sure something worse happens to you!”
Clarisse clenched her hands into fists, suppressing the urge to throttle the woman. She’d suspected Vivian had slammed the door on her intentionally, but to be told so blatantly and without remorse stunned and infuriated her.
“Get out!”
Vivian’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Don’t worry. I’m out of here. Just remember, keep away from John. He’s mine.”
The screen swung shut behind Vivian. Breathing heavily, Clarisse slammed the inner door. She’d never! The nerve! Why—why—
Vibrating with rage, she grabbed the plastic bottle of aspirin off the table and heaved it across the room. It hit the window. The lid flew open, and pills spewed from the bottle, clicking against the glass and spraying the drapes and floor.
“This isn’t happening!”
She opened and closed her hands, then swiped impatiently at a tear. No! That woman wasn’t going to turn the next couple of days into one hellish experience after another. She wouldn’t allow it. She took a couple fortifying breaths and found her purse. She needed to calm down. John was out there, and his threat of taking her to a doctor chilled her to the marrow. She couldn’t handle that type of emotional confrontation.
Her leg throbbed with renewed vigor, forcing her to take two painkillers. So much for a speedy recovery. Earlier, the short night’s rest had eased the pressure, but flying across the room after her robe had worsened the injury. If she weren’t careful, she would damage her knee beyond repair.
John and Vivian were waiting by the car by the time she paid for her room. She nodded a greeting. Pain cut into her knee as she heaved her luggage into the back. Anymore walking and carrying would kill her if the pills didn’t soon take effect.
“Glad to see your leg’s better.”
She forced a smile at John’s concern. If only he knew, he’d have her at the doctor’s office before she could draw a breath. “Couldn’t be better. I guess a good night’s sleep can do wonders.” She ignored Vivian’s raised brow and mocking glance.
The Long Road Home Page 7
