by Kara Lennox
All of the guest rooms were full, so Sara and Reece headed directly to her room on the third floor. Belatedly she realized she hadn’t prepared for company, but she didn’t figure Reece would notice. He seemed pretty single-minded at the moment.
Just the same, she didn’t turn on the lights or open the shades. She closed her bedroom door, turned the lock and, still holding Reece’s hand, headed directly for the bed.
Reece stopped before she reached it, tugged her to him and wrapped her in his arms. His kiss was so steamy they could have boiled lobsters without a stove. Feeling his hot mouth on hers, his hands roving anywhere and everywhere at once, she thought she might burst into flame.
He made quick work of the zipper on the back of her dress. The garment fell in a heap at her feet, and she stepped out of it and kicked it aside. In no time he had her stripped of her bra and panties. He was so efficient, in fact, that he was half undressed himself before she even realized it. She helped him with the studs on his tux shirt, her hands trembling with anticipation as heat pooled between her legs.
They fell onto the unmade bed, and for once she was glad she was a slapdash housekeeper when it came to her own space, because it would have taken too much time to pull back the covers.
She felt no need for excessive foreplay; she was so ready. She’d been ready for him for hours. She pulled him on top of her and wrapped her legs around him, and he entered her with one swift, deep thrust.
She gasped with the indescribable pleasure of joining with Reece again.
“Sara,” he said on a groan. “You make me insane.”
“Insane is good,” she shot back, but he cut her off with another of his masterful kisses.
They rocked together in her big four-poster bed, which serenaded them with a gentle squeaking. With each of Reece’s thrusts, Sara felt herself moving closer to that exquisite place that was so fine and so rare, a special place she’d never been with anyone but Reece, like their own private universe. Then the stars exploded and Sara soared through them, buoyed by wave after wave of stardust.
She was so far gone, she only vaguely registered Reece’s low groan of pleasure as he joined her on their private psychic plane.
Minutes or hours later, the dimly lit room around them reappeared. Reece rolled over and cradled her against his shoulder, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say nothing. No words are necessary.”
“Can we just stay in bed the rest of the weekend?”
“We can, but we’ll get hungry.”
“We’ll order room service.”
“Unfortunately I’m the cook. I’ll just have to go downstairs and fix something.”
“We’ll order pizza delivery.”
“I like the way you think.”
THEY DOZED INTO the evening. Reece woke to find Sara nuzzling his ear, and the simple act had him hard again in a matter of seconds.
“If you don’t want me all over you again, you’d better stop that,” he warned her.
She didn’t stop, but chuckled low in her throat. “You think there’s even a remote possibility I don’t want you all over me?”
Apparently her appetite was no more diminished than his. He was determined, though, to make love to her, cherish her in the way she deserved, which of course he couldn’t, because any man who properly cherished Sara wouldn’t run out on her. But she was right, he didn’t want to think about that and ruin what time they had left.
He kissed every part of her, from the inside of her elbow to the inside of her thigh and the back of her neck. With each soft pressure of his lips she sighed, until the sighs became whimpers and the whimpers grew more insistent. Still, even when he entered her he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts, building the tension until she tossed beneath him like a stormy sea.
When he could hold himself back not another second, he gave in to the most unbelievable climax he’d ever experienced. Sara, fine-tuned to him as she was, cried out at the exact instant he did. Waves of pleasure washed over them both, gradually weakening to mere ripples.
The rumble of the air-conditioning turning on made Reece realize he was cold. He grabbed the sheet and pulled it over both of them, scooping Sara against him.
“Wow. I’m speechless.”
“Mmm,” Reece agreed. Words would only diminish something that was so beyond what the English language could encompass.
Apparently Sara thought so, too, because she said nothing more. She just snuggled up against him, sighing contentedly. Amazingly they slept again and didn’t wake up until after ten at night.
“Hey, you, wake up.” Sara hit Reece with a pillow.
He grabbed the pillow and whacked her back. “Is that any way to wake up the man who wore himself out making you happy? What happened to nuzzling me awake?”
“I was afraid if I did we’d just end up wearing ourselves out again, and this woman needs sustenance.”
“I’ll take you out anywhere you want to go,” Reece said, because he was starving himself.
“Ah, but sadly, this late nothing is open except the bars.”
Truthfully, a burger from Old Salt’s Bar and Grill, which was his favorite watering hole in Port C, sounded like heaven. But Sara had other ideas.
“I’ll fix us something.”
“Are you sure Miss Greer won’t mind? I’m not even an official guest here anymore.”
“I have my own stash of goodies. You can stay up here if you’d be embarrassed for Miss Greer to know we’ve been in my room together all these hours, making whoopie.”
“Now how would she know that? We could have been up here watching TV.”
“I don’t own a TV.”
“Reading poetry to each other, then.”
“Would you really read poetry to me?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “That’s so romantic.”
“You’re right, Miss Greer is no dummy. She would know exactly what we’ve been up to.” And was he embarrassed about it? “Maybe I’ll wait here for you.”
“Okay,” she said cheerfully as she slid out of bed and hunted for some clothes. “But don’t you get dressed. I’ll be comforted knowing you’re naked in my bed, waiting for me.”
“I always wanted to be a kept man.”
After she left, he turned on the bedside lamp, thinking he would find something to read while he waited for Sara to bring him dinner in bed. But as the lamp illuminated the room, he got a good look at it for the first time, free from the haze of overwhelming passion that earlier had caused him to see only Sara.
Oh. Dear. God.
Sara might do a good job keeping house for the Sunsetter, but her domestic skills clearly didn’t extend to her own space. Her stuff was everywhere. Several sets of clothes hung from the bedposts and were draped over the backs of chairs and on doorknobs. Her windowsills were lined with all kinds of plants, from cacti to trailing ivy. At least they all looked healthy. She had a tiny antique desk tucked into an alcove, but the papers on it were stacked so high they defied the laws of physics.
The box of dishes they’d bought at the antique store was shoved half under the bed; they’d taken out only the ones they needed to replace, washed them and tucked them back into Miss Greer’s china cabinet.
Reece thought about his old girlfriend, Elaine, and the mild infringements her things had made at his place-the clothes she’d left in his closet, a few toiletries she’d left in the medicine cabinet, her cartons of yogurt in his fridge. He could only imagine what his apartment would look like after Sara invaded, if she ever came to visit.
He waited for a shudder of distaste to wash over him. But strangely, as he pictured her clothes strewn about his bedroom, every pot and dish in his kitchen dirty as she enthusiastically tried some new recipe, he felt nothing but mild amusement. Maybe he was loosening up. Maybe he needed loosening up.
Maybe Elaine had been right calling him an uptight, controlling neat freak.
But people did change. And if he could change, ma
ybe Sara could, too. Not drastically, because then she wouldn’t be Sara. But a little-just enough that they could meet in the middle.
A couple of weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought their lives could be meshed. But now? Now he was invested. Now his mind was stretching to include intriguing possibilities.
SARA HEARD the TV coming from Miss Greer’s room, so she knocked lightly.
“Come in,” Miss Greer called out, sounding happier than Sara could ever remember.
When she entered, Sara found her employer and Valerie in the sitting area of the large bedroom watching TV. Sara felt only a slight pang of jealousy; Miss Greer had invited Sara to relax in her private room only a handful of times in eleven years. But Valerie was a blood relative and here only temporarily. Of course Miss Greer would want to spend as much time as possible with her.
“Sorry I haven’t checked in since this morning,” Sara said. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, dear,” Miss Greer said. “The guests are quiet.”
“Good.” The TV screen caught Sara’s eye. “What’s going on with the storm?”
“You haven’t heard?” Valerie said. “It’s now Hurricane Chelsea.”
“And it’s headed this way,” Miss Greer added. “If it doesn’t change course, it’s supposed to make landfall early Monday morning. Maybe tomorrow you could get out the ladder and close the shutters.”
She didn’t sound too worried, so Sara decided she shouldn’t be, either. This brick house had withstood storms for over a century, and the worst that had happened was an occasional brick or shingle coming loose.
“I’ll take care of it,” Sara promised. She wondered if she should mention the storm’s status to Reece, then decided not to. He would only worry about it, and his flight was scheduled before the storm would hit, so it shouldn’t concern him. “I’m going to fix myself some dinner and go to bed,” she announced.
“Good night, dear,” Miss Greer said. “Oh,” she added just as Sara was about to close the door, “tell Reece good-night, too.”
Sara felt her face heating as she escaped into the kitchen. She hadn’t been as discreet as she’d thought. Then again, Miss Greer had a sixth sense when it came to the goings-on under her roof.
The refrigerator was stuffed full with wedding leftovers, which Valerie had generously carted back here. Sara had been too busy during the wedding to actually eat anything, but now she warmed up two big plates of the Mexican food, including Reece’s special enchilada.
She was disappointed to find Reece dressed when she returned to her room with their feast. She had thought maybe they would eat naked on her bed. But Reece voted for her small table and chairs, which was suitably cozy and intimate after she cleared all the junk off it and stuck a candle in her tarnished silver candelabra.
“I’m sorry I skipped all this at the wedding,” he said after inhaling the enchilada, several taquitos and some refried beans and chips. “I don’t even like Mexican food, but this is wonderful.”
She warmed under his praise. “Thanks. Not all Mexican food is superspicy.”
“You should do more catering. I heard a lot of the wedding guests raving about how great the food was.”
“I would do more, if people asked. But you have to remember, the kitchen isn’t mine. I’m sure Miss Greer wouldn’t mind my taking an occasional job, but I couldn’t disrupt the B and B with large-scale cooking on a regular basis.”
“I guess not. But it’s a shame, because you could make a fortune. And you love to cook.”
She’d thought about trying to make a go of catering, to really push it instead of just taking a job here or there when they fell into her lap. But that would require capital investment…a business plan…employees and taxes…advertising and marketing. All those things gave her hives.
“I like doing it whenever,” Sara said, hearing herself through Reece’s ears and knowing she sounded like a flake. “If I actually turned it into a business, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be fun anymore.”
He shrugged. “It was just a thought.”
But Sara got the distinct impression she hadn’t said what Reece wanted to hear. What possible difference could it make to him? He was leaving in less than twenty-four hours and he would never see her again.
She felt an almost overwhelming urge to tell him of her suspicion that she was pregnant. But she squelched it. She wouldn’t manipulate him that way. At the very least, she ought to be certain before she said anything.
Following her own advice, she pushed thoughts of the future out of her mind and concentrated on the here and now. “Did you leave room for dessert? I brought up sopaipillas, but they’re never very good unless they’re fresh. Still, if we drown them in enough honey…What?” He was looking at her in a slightly predatory way, almost smiling but not quite.
“I was just thinking about what I really want for dessert.”
“Oh.” She smiled and reached for the hem of her T-shirt.
“Wait. I really need to go to Cooper’s. My aunt and uncle will wonder what happened to me.”
Sara sagged with disappointment. “You’re leaving? Can’t you just call and tell them you’re…engaged elsewhere?”
Reece removed his glasses and absently cleaned them with his ever-present handkerchief. “It would get back to my father in two seconds.”
“So? Does he think you’re a monk? Why does he care what you do on the weekend?”
She could see he was thinking about it. “I at least need to get my things. Toothbrush, razor…unless you like the caveman look.”
“I like just about any look on you. Hurry back.”
AS HE SLID behind the wheel of his car, Reece turned his cell phone on and it immediately began to ring. He didn’t answer, didn’t even look at the caller ID. He knew it was someone from the family, someone who thought he ought to be on a shorter leash.
He was too content to let the Remington clan bug him. He’d never felt more relaxed, more at peace. Although he knew it wouldn’t last, he wanted to hold on to the feeling a while longer, to bask in the glow of Sara’s lovemaking. Monday morning they could have him back, but for now he was determined to relax and enjoy the moment.
Several cars were parked at Cooper’s house and the windows were all lit up. Apparently the party lived on. That suited Reece just fine. Hopefully he could slip in and slip out without getting interrogated.
But when he entered through the front door, he didn’t find a party atmosphere. A group of cousins were gathered in front of the big-screen TV watching the Weather Channel.
“Reece, there you are. About time.” It was Uncle Jonathan. He had on a suit and a cell phone in each hand. “Why weren’t you answering your phone?”
“I turned it off.” And that was all the explanation he was going to provide. “Is something wrong?”
“Have you been living under a rock? We have a category three hurricane headed straight for us. If it stays on course, it’ll make landfall at Port Clara in the early hours of Monday morning. I’ve rescheduled my flight for tonight and you better do the same. The airport is sure to be a madhouse.”
“Hurricane? When did that happen? I thought it was just a little tropical storm way out in the gulf.”
But Jonathan wasn’t listening. He was talking to an airline agent, making sure he had a first-class seat.
Reece wandered toward the TV. Sure enough, that worrisome little tropical depression had organized itself into Hurricane Chelsea in record time and was gaining strength. News video clips showed people standing in line to buy gas, water and plywood for boarding up windows.
Alarm bells went off in Reece’s head. If an evacuation was ordered, the roads would be clogged, the airport jammed. He had to get out of here. He had to beat the rush or he might never get home. If he missed that Monday meeting…
But then sanity prevailed. It was a hurricane. His father was just going to have to understand. He could postpone the meeting or hold it without Reece, but the world wouldn’t
come to an end.
At least, he didn’t think so.
He thought uneasily about the phone calls he hadn’t answered, and finally he couldn’t resist the impulse to check. He pulled his phone out of his tux pocket. Four messages, all from his father.
“Are you going to try to get on a plane tonight?” It was Max, who was chowing down on a piece of pizza and looking perfectly relaxed. And why shouldn’t he be? He didn’t have to travel during a hurricane.
“I thought I would wait it out,” Reece replied.
“That’s what I would do. No sense making yourself crazy just to get back one day earlier.” Max lowered his voice. “You don’t want to travel anywhere near Uncle Jonathan. He’s gone into his Tasmanian devil routine. Apparently some stupid meeting on Monday means millions of dollars one way or another.”
Ugh, the meeting. Reece found a quiet corner and listened to his messages. The first was merely cautionary, pointing out that he’d better confirm his plans because travel was going to get dicey. The next call was slightly more insistent, instructing Reece to try to get an earlier flight, maybe book with a couple of different airlines so he’d be sure to make it home in time. The third call, Archie sounded angry, and the fourth, he was threatening to fire Reece if he didn’t return his call.
The sharp pain in Reece’s chest returned, and he rubbed his sternum absently. He shouldn’t let his father get to him. The man threatened to fire Reece at least once a month. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to relax with Sara unless he confronted Archie and reassured him everything was fine.
After all, he had a confirmed reservation for tomorrow evening, several hours before the hurricane was supposed to hit.
“Where the hell have you been?” were the first words out of Archie’s mouth.
“With a beautiful woman,” Reece answered, not in the mood to placate his father.
“Oh, yes. The maid. Well, you’ve had your fun and games. You better get yourself on a plane and get back here. In another couple of hours, every seat on every plane will be double-booked and you’ll be stranded for days. Make no mistake, Reece, if you’re not at that meeting Monday, don’t bother to come back at all.”
