by Neesa Hart
The thought had anticipatory goose bumps tickling her flesh. She stopped by her upstairs office to retrieve her preliminary work on the Conrad diaries.
She found him seated on the couch with a bottle of soda dangling casually from his fingers and his feet propped on the coffee table. He was barefoot. The realization, oddly, made her heart skip a beat. “I see you made yourself comfortable,” she said.
He looked at her. “I didn’t hear you come down.”
She moved toward the couch slowly. He watched her progress with a renewed surge of hunger. She indicated the papers in her hand. “I thought you might like to look at these tonight,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s some of my preliminary work on Abigail’s diaries.” She set the stack on the coffee table, then seemed to fidget as she looked nervously around the room.
With a soft laugh he reached for her hand and tugged until she tumbled onto the couch next to him. “Sit with me, Cora. We don’t have to unravel the entire story in one night.”
“I know.” She still hadn’t met his gaze.
He twined a tendril of hair on his finger. He was beginning to love the satiny feel of it—and the image of what it would feel like when it touched other parts of his flesh. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?”
That caught her attention. She gave him a sheepish look. “Even if I was boring?”
Smiling softly, he shook his head. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“The girls really like you. I’m glad.”
His fingers settled at her nape. “They really like you, too.”
She shrugged. “I’m trying.”
“It takes time,” he assured her. “From what you’ve told me about your sister, I can understand why they might have trouble trusting you.”
With a heavy sigh Cora leaned back against the couch. He used the opportunity to caress the line of flesh where her sleeveless shirt ended at her shoulder. Her hands clenched in her lap. “Lauren frustrates me to death, and I’m afraid I let it show too much.” She looked at him. “I know Kaitlin realizes it, and I just hope she understands that it’s her mother and not her that gets me so irritated.”
“Where is Lauren, anyway?” he prompted.
“Somewhere in Florida with her married lover.” She rolled her head to the side so she could meet his gaze. “I probably wouldn’t be so annoyed if this weren’t her third true and everlasting love of the year.” Her voice held an unmistakable note of bitterness. “Not to mention the fact that she hasn’t bothered to call and give me a phone number or address.”
“What if something happened to the girls?”
“Good question.”
“Has she always been that way?”
Cora turned so one knee was propped on the sofa cushions. He let his hand drift down her back. “Mostly,” she responded. “Look, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk…”
He shook his head as he applied a gentle pressure to her back, urging her closer. “I don’t mind.”
“Rafael…” The breathless sound of her voice swirled in his head.
“Let me kiss you, Cora,” he said. “I’ve been waiting all day.”
Her hand came to his chest, exerted the slightest pressure, then slid around his neck in surrender. “Me, too,” she admitted.
He claimed her mouth, that sweet, kissable, alluring mouth that tempted and taunted him even in his sleep. His hand caressed her face. Her fingers slid into the weight of his hair. She sighed. He heard it and felt his body temperature spike. Shifting slightly, he levered her against him so her chest was pressed firmly to his. Increasing the pressure of his kiss, he angled his head until hers was against his shoulder and she lay half on top of him.
The feeling was indescribable. He ran his callused fingertips over the satin-soft skin of her cheek, down the arch of her neck, along the neckline of her shirt. Finding the spot at her throat where her pulse beat madly, he pressed his thumb to it, savoring, drowning in the heady feel of her response to him. At last he tore his mouth away and buried his face in her neck. “Ah, Cora,” he said, inhaling great breaths of her scent, “can you imagine how much I want you?”
She shuddered. “Rafael, I—”
He pressed his fingers to her moist, swollen lips. “Don’t say anything.” Rubbing his fingertips along the curve of her mouth, he continued, “Not tonight. When we make love, you’ll want it as much as I do.”
Her eyes widened, and because he couldn’t resist, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I promise.”
Cora eased away from him then and stood. She brushed her hands over her clothes as if she could brush away the imprint of his body. “I, um, have class tomorrow,” she said. “I need to get some rest.”
He nodded, but said nothing. She met his gaze. “Do you think you’ll be all right with the girls tomorrow?”
“We’ll do fine.” He could almost feel the current of energy coming from her. It crackled between them.
She rubbed her hand on her forearm. “Did you have a chance to check your room yet? Is it all right?”
“I went up there while you were getting them ready for bed. It’s fine. Thanks for the sheets.” He couldn’t resist the slight taunt. Her skin blushed a gorgeous shade of peach, and he fell a little deeper under her spell. “I like the color.”
Her lips parted and she wet them with the tip of her pink tongue. He felt the tug all the way to his gut. “Oh, uh, good. I didn’t think you’d have any—” She stopped and shook her head. “This is ridiculous. I’m twittering like a moron.”
Another layer, he mused, of this fascinating woman who had him in her thrall. “Am I making you nervous?”
Her slight smile knocked him off guard. “Of course you’re making me nervous,” she said with a laugh. “You’re stretched out on my sofa looking like every woman’s fantasy lover, and you keep baiting me with—”
He held up a hand. “I’m not baiting.”
“You’re very nonchalant about all this.”
“About the fact that I want to make love to you?”
She fingered the collar of her shirt. “No, it’s…” Her face twisted into an adorable expression as she searched for words. “You’re seducing me,” she finally said.
“I’m sure as hell trying.”
Cora shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you. What’s making me nervous is this…this persona.” She waved a hand at him. “You, international superstar, renowned scientist, sexiest man on the face of the planet—and you’re trying to seduce me. One part of my brain keeps screaming yes, yes, yes, while the other part—which, quite frankly, is the part I listen to most often—keeps telling me this can’t be for real.”
While the idea and sound of her saying yes was quickly working its way through his blood and having a predictable effect on his libido, the sincerity of her doubt rang through. Simultaneously surprised and frustrated, he surged from the sofa and crossed to her. “Why not?”
Her frown deepened. “Are you kidding? My God. You could have any woman in the world.”
“There’s only one I want at the moment.”
Her frustrated sigh ruffled her bangs. “See, there it is. Why would you say something like that?”
“Why do I want you? Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.”
“Cora.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Baby, did some jerk convince you—”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop. I am not a walking cliché. That’s not what I mean. I’m a reasonably attractive, educated woman. I’m not wallowing in a pit of low self-esteem. I’m just saying that I have a very healthy perspective on who I am and what I am, and I can’t quite figure out why ordinary Cora Prescott has got extraordinary Rafael Adriano in hot pursuit.”
His lips curved into a smile. “I’m one of those men,” he said, “who really likes women.” At her raised eyebrows, he laughed and ran his hands along her shoulders. “I mean, likes their company, not just their other, er—”
�
�Move on,” she said.
He rubbed his thumbs in the shallow depressions beneath her ears. The gentle caress made her skin flush. “There was a time in my life when the physical package was the whole deal. I was more selfish then, and I chose lovers who attracted me physically and looked the part.”
Her gaze narrowed. “What’s changed?”
His thumb found the corner of her mouth. He pressed. “I have. My tastes are refined. I’m not satisfied anymore with a woman who doesn’t challenge my mind.”
“I think this is the first time a man’s told me he wants me for my brain.”
He chuckled. “Believe me, I’m not complaining about the packaging. What I’m saying is, there are lots of reasons you have me in your thrall.” Sliding one hand down her arm, he intertwined their fingers. “It’s the sound of your voice when you talk about Abigail. It’s the passion I see in your eyes for your nieces and your students.” He raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “It’s the way you move and the way you smell.” Ducking his head, he pressed a kiss to her throat. “It’s the way your skin flushes when I touch you. Watching you laugh, watching you live.” He shook his head to clear the fog of desire settling on his brain. “It’s like a fire in my blood.”
A fine tremor was traveling through her body. He felt it when she laid her hand on his chest. She raised her eyes to his, and he saw a smoky haze in them that made him wonder what she’d look like when he was inside her. Her lips parted and she said, “No wonder.”
Sweeping his thumb along the swell of her bottom lip, he raised an eyebrow in silent query. Cora used her free hand to gently tug his hand down. “No wonder,” she clarified, “that I can’t seem to think straight around you. My father always said that adolescents can’t be trusted to make wise decisions because their hormones are taking up too much of their brain space.” A smile flitted across her lips. “To be honest, I never really knew what he was talking about. Evidently I’m a bit of a late bloomer.” Her expression turned sheepish. “I get it now.”
Arousal spiraled through him. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he got any hotter, if she made him any harder, he might petrify. “Do you know that you drive me completely crazy?”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
He used the soft confession as an excuse to kiss her again—an easier kiss that still managed to convey a wealth of want. When he raised his head and looked at her, he nearly tossed resolve out the window. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted her to want him just as much as he wanted her. Still, with surrender written in her slightly dazed expression, temptation nearly overcame him. He pushed the thought aside with a vision of what she’d look like when willing desire replaced the bewildered heat he now saw in her eyes. “Then dream of me, Cora,” he said, and eased her away from him. “Tonight, dream of me.”
Her lips parted on a swiftly indrawn breath. He saw the momentary confusion, then the slight frown that crossed her face. “I—” She stopped, shivered, then lowered her gaze. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He stayed rooted for several seconds after she fled up the stairs, taking a moment to subdue his sexual frustration. He could have had her tonight, but not on his terms. She would have surrendered. He’d seen it in the sweet parting of her lips and the sultry droop of her eyelids. But it wasn’t enough, and he wasn’t sure why. Still, he knew that Cora’s surrender wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her unconditional partnership. He wanted her to feel the same gnawing hunger he felt, experience the dizzying heat. He wanted her to pant and demand and beg. To give orders and to cling. To set the pace and follow his lead. When he finally joined his body with hers, he wanted both of them to be so high on passion that they would fly together.
This indescribable craving shocked him somewhat. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt it for anything or anyone—not even the Isabela. This, he realized, is what del Flores must have felt for his Abigail. This is what Rafael had left home at seventeen to find. This is what had driven him for twenty years to find del Flores’s story, to know what drove the restless, independent pirate into the arms of a woman who conquered him.
Shaking his head, he scooped up the papers she’d left him. He’d read them tonight while he lay awake, warring with the clamoring needs of his body. Perhaps Abigail could give him answers.
He made his way quickly to the kitchen, where he dumped the contents of his soda down the sink, checked the lock on the back door, then headed through the creaky house, switching off lights as he went. There was something incredibly gratifying about performing the simple, domestic function, as if he’d settled so thoroughly into Cora’s existence that she’d have trouble rooting him out. He could almost picture del Flores creeping through the house, risking his neck for a few moments of bliss. As he mounted the stairs two at a time, his thoughts wandered to the burgundy sheets on the bed in his third-floor room.
What wonderful delights, he thought, awaited him in the hands of this incredible woman? At the landing he gave a swift glance down the hall. A night-light burned in the hallway outside two cracked doors, which must be the girls’ rooms. Light streamed from beneath a third door. Cora’s bedroom. As he strode down the hall toward the back stairs, he found himself straining for a sound, a whisper, anything coming from behind her door. He was two steps from her room when he heard the soft snick of the lock as she turned it. Abruptly he stopped and stared at the door. He could picture her on the other side, her fingers on the lock, her other hand pressed flat against the door as she waited for him to pass. Was she locking him out, he wondered, or locking herself in? Perhaps a little of both.
Chapter Six
Five days adrift, with the wind so even the gulls refuse to fly. We’ve been taking on water and are badly in need of repairs, yet even if the wind should carry us there, we dare not sail into a hostile port. We are vulnerable here and though I know my thoughts should be of my crew and their safety, my mind is drawn to her. In her courage, I have found the will to press on. I shall not leave her like this. I gave her my word.
Juan Rodriguez del Flores
Captain’s Log, 12 July 1861
“You didn’t tell us,” Kaitlin accused, giving Cora an angry stare, “that he was going to be our baby-sitter.”
Cora took a sip of her coffee. A brief glance at the overhead clock told her she had another fifteen minutes before she had to leave for her Tuesday a.m. seminar class. She had hoped for a continuation of the tentative peace accord they seemed to have struck. Evidently it wasn’t to be. Tired and cranky after another mostly sleepless night—the man was going to be the death of her—she was quickly losing her patience. She had a ten-o’clock class this morning and would have to leave the girls with Rafael whether they acceded gracefully or not.
“Why can’t we go with you?” Molly whined.
“Because she doesn’t want us to,” Kaitlin said.
Cora shook her head. “That’s not true. If I didn’t know you’d be bored sitting in my classroom, I’d be delighted to have you.”
“We could wait in your office,” Liza suggested.
“No,” Cora said patiently. “I’m not going to leave you alone.”
Kaitlin frowned. “I’m not a baby, you know. I look after Molly and Liza all the time at home.”
“She does,” Molly agreed. “Kaitlin even cooks for us sometimes.”
No surprise there, Cora thought as she kept her expression deliberately bland. “The rules are different in my house than they are at your mother’s.” She shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s the way it is, ladies.”
Liza wriggled out of her chair and rounded the table to lay her head on Cora’s lap. She still clutched Benedict Bunny. “I want to go with you, Aunt Cora. I don’t want to stay here.”
Cora stroked Liza’s downy-soft brown curls, still warm and tousled from sleep. “You’ll have fun today,” she promised. “Rafael has promised to take you somewhere.”
“Where?” Molly asked.
Kaitlin shook her head. “I’
m sure it’s someplace boring. Like the library or the grocery store or something.”
Cora shook her head. “No, it’s not.”
“I don’t like the library,” Molly argued. “It’s cold.”
“And scary,” Liza added.
Molly concurred. “And that woman with the glasses is mean.”
“He’s not taking you to the library,” Cora assured them.
“Then where are we going?” Molly pressed.
She opened her mouth to respond when Rafael’s brisk knock sounded at the back door. This time, he’d used the outside stairs, she thought, unlike last night when he’d hesitated at her bedroom door until she’d almost succumbed and yanked it open.
“I’ll get it,” Liza announced, and leaped up to hurry through the kitchen to the mudroom.
Cora made one more attempt with Kaitlin. “Kaitlin,” she said quietly, “it’ll be different this time. He’s not going to be like the other sitters you’ve had.”
The girl gave her a frosty look, then turned her head to stare out the window. Molly looked at Cora anxiously. “Aunt Cora?”
“What, Mol?”
“I like him.”
She wasn’t the only one, Cora thought as she steeled herself to look at him, knowing the same jolt of sexual energy would shake her when she did.
Rafael strode into the kitchen carrying Liza. Still barefoot, Cora noted. She was beginning to think she had some kind of weird fixation with the man’s footwear, or lack of it.
His smile warmed the room. “Good morning.”
Molly gave him a half wave. “Hi.”
He glanced at Kaitlin, then gave Cora an inquiring look. She ducked his gaze and headed for the sink. “They’re all yours,” she told him. “I’ve got class in twenty minutes.”
“Women’s literature?” he asked.
“Nope.” She dumped the contents of her mug into the sink. “History of feminist thought.”
