by Nora Roberts
Her eyes widened. “Shrimp?”
“They were in the freezer, along with a fabulous assortment of seafood. I just sautéed them in a little garlic and oil.”
“Do they taste as wonderful as they smell?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” He took the seat beside her and spooned some onto her plate. He watched as she bit into one. “Well?”
“Fantastic.” She tasted several, then looked up in surprise. “Is this one lobster?”
His smile was back. “I told you. My…”
“I know.” She laughed and put a hand over his to stop his words. “Your mother’s exquisite taste again. Remind me to thank her.”
“I will.” He wondered if she knew what her touch was doing to him. Just the merest press of her hand, and he was pleasantly warm again.
He topped off her wine, then his own. “Wait until you taste the fish. There’s nothing better than fish fresh from the bay.”
“You mean you cheated and already ate some?”
“The privilege of being the cook.” He took a bite of shrimp and another of lobster. “I make a fantastic seafood gumbo. You’ll have to taste it sometime.”
“I’d love to. How’d you learn to cook, Ben?”
“Necessity. While I was in law school I shared my first apartment with three buddies. It was always littered with take-out cartons and fast-food wrappers. I think the only thing we made from scratch for three years was peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.”
She laughed. “Sounds a lot like the apartment I shared with my friends in college. But you forgot to mention the mounds of dirty laundry. And music blasting at deafening decibels at all hours of the day and night.”
He joined in the laughter. “Yeah. That, too. I have to admit I don’t miss any of it. Well, not much, anyway. I promised myself that when I had a place of my own, I’d fill it with good books, good music, and good food.”
“Seems to me I promised myself that, too. But somewhere along the line I got too busy to follow through. So how did you learn to cook? By trial and error? Or did you invest in a library of cookbooks?”
“Trial and error mostly. Whenever I tasted something I really liked, I’d ask the cook for the recipe. Then I’d go home and try it out.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be too quick to heap praise. Let’s see if you still say that when you’re finished.” He pushed away from the table and crossed to the grill. Minutes later he set down a platter of sizzling fish surrounded by grilled vegetables on a bed of rice.
Annie tasted and sighed. “All right. I’ve decided you’re in the wrong profession. Forget the law. You really ought to be doing this for a living.”
He couldn’t hide his pleasure at her words of praise. “I’ll admit it’s satisfying. But only when there’s someone to enjoy it with me. It isn’t much fun cooking for one.”
“I know what you mean.” Annie sipped her wine and savored her meal. “Most nights I’m so tired by the time I get back to my apartment that the last thing on my mind is cooking. I just take something out of the freezer and nuke it.”
“How many hours a day do you put in at your business?”
She shrugged. “Who counts? I just squeeze in as many clients as possible. When I run out of hours I start over the next day.”
“Sounds familiar.” He topped off her wine again and thought about his own days and nights of never-ending work. How long had it been since he’d taken a vacation? Or even a day off work? How long since he’d spent this much time with a beautiful, fascinating woman?
She was beautiful, he thought as he watched her finish her meal. And fun to be with. He loved the sound of her voice. That low, breathless quality that never failed to move him. The way her laughter made his heart feel lighter.
“Oh, look.” She touched a hand to his shoulder and pointed to the sky. “A falling star. Quick. Make a wish.”
He turned in time to see her close her eyes.
When she opened them she saw him smiling. “What’s so amusing?”
“I didn’t think anyone still believed in that.”
“You mean you don’t?”
He shook his head. “But you do.”
She shrugged, then gave an embarrassed laugh. “It’s just an old habit from my childhood. I remember my father telling me to always wish on a shooting star. But one night after he and my mother had been lost…” She took a deep breath, amazed that even all these years later, she could still feel the shadow of pain. “I stayed awake all night, hoping I could see a falling star so I could wish on it.”
“And did you?”
She nodded. “I remember wishing with all my might. And crying the next morning, when I told my grandmother that it was silly and stupid, because nothing was ever going to bring my parents back.” She smiled now, remembering. “Gram said that sometimes, even when wishes can’t come true, it’s because there’s something even better just around the corner.”
“Not exactly what a teen wants to hear, is it?” He wondered if she had any idea how inviting she looked in the dark with candlelight weaving its magic around her.
“Maybe not. But it left quite an impression. From that day on, I’ve always believed that it isn’t so important to have what I want. I can always live on the hope that something better is about to happen.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those who believe that out of every lousy thing that happens in our lives, something good will come.”
“Only if we let it. If we close our hearts to the possibilities, how can the good find its way in?”
She saw his eyes narrow as he thought over what she’d said.
A sudden gust of wind ruffled her hair and threatened to extinguish the candles.
Ben touched a hand to hers. “I think we’d better get inside and start a fire.”
He stood and began to gather up the dishes, surprised at how dark it had grown. Where had the time gone? Time. He’d lost all track of it since the power went out. Or maybe just being with this fascinating woman made him forget about the time.
“I’ll carry these candles in so we can find our way.” With a candle in each hand, Annie led the way while Ben stacked the dishes in the sink.
Then she returned to the patio for the carafe of coffee bubbling on the grill. As she poured two cups and set them on a tray, the fragrance perfumed the kitchen.
“I’ll take that.” Ben took the tray from her hands and led the way to the great room, where more candles gleamed on the mantel. After setting the tray on a table, Ben lifted one of the candles and held the flame to kindling in the fireplace. Soon the room was ablaze with warmth and light.
“There now. That’s better.” He turned and found Annie standing beside him, holding out a cup of coffee.
He accepted it and touched it lightly to the rim of hers. “Here’s to our last night at White Pines.”
She wondered at the sudden ache in her heart. After all, this place meant nothing to her. Nothing except a hefty bonus when it was sold. Still, she couldn’t help thinking that the Carrington family would one day regret their decision. But by then it would be too late. Someone new would be living here, creating wonderful new memories.
“Will you be sorry to leave, Ben?”
He studied her a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I never thought I’d say that. But tonight, remembering the good times, I realized just how much of my childhood is wrapped up in this place.”
“Maybe you should urge your mother to reconsider.”
He shook his head. “White Pines has sat empty now for three years. It’s time to sell it to someone who can enjoy all that it has to offer.”
“But why not your family?”
He merely smiled as he stared at her. “You know what, Annie? You ask too many questions.”
“But that’s my job. If I’m going to represent your family in the sale of this place, I need to know everything I can about it. I need to know if there’s some flaw in the design that caused you
r family to stop coming to White Pines.”
He seemed not to hear as he stared into her eyes. Abruptly he took the cup from her hands and set it on the mantel beside his.
Her eyes went wide. “Ben, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do ever since you floated down those stairs.” He drew her close and covered her mouth with his in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it melted every bone in her body. She could feel them, one by one dissolving, disappearing. Just a kiss, and she felt boneless and fluid. And completely undone.
When he looked at her, her eyes were huge with shock. It pleased him more than anything. “I really wanted this instead of shrimp and lobster. Instead of wine.” He ran nibbling kisses across her jaw and heard her sigh of pleasure. His teeth nipped lightly on her lobe. “All wine can do is go to my head. But you, Annie. You go straight to my heart.”
He darted his tongue inside, sending piercing little arrows all the way to her core. She made a sound that might have been pleasure or protest.
“Now I’m through wanting.” He ran his hands lightly down her sides, then closed them over her hips, and dragged her against him. “I’ve decided I have to have you, Annie. If I don’t, I’m not sure my heart will survive.”
She simply stood there, her eyes wide and unblinking. She couldn’t seem to move. Or to speak.
“Need some coaxing, do you?” He framed her face with his hands and kissed her so softly, so gently, it seemed almost no kiss at all. As gentle as a snowflake, as sweet as a single raindrop. But it was the sweetness that was her undoing. With just the mere touch of his lips on hers, she felt her blood heat, her pulse rate begin to climb.
When he raised his head, she could see him watching her, his eyes narrowed on her with a look that was both pleading and puzzled. “It’s your call, Annie. Tell me you want this, too.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to bolt, but she was rooted to the spot. She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried, and though she had at least a dozen good reasons why she ought to refuse his offer, at the moment she couldn’t recall a single one.
Like someone in a dream she wrapped her arms around his neck and offered her lips for another drugging kiss. Her voice sounded husky in her own ears. “Oh, Ben. I thought you’d never ask.”
7
FOR THE SPACE of a heartbeat the only sounds were their shallow breathing and the hiss and snap of the log on the fire. He stared into her eyes and saw the same smoldering need that was driving him slowly mad.
“I hope to hell I’m not dreaming.” He covered her mouth with his and took the kiss deeper. Against her lips he muttered, “If I am, don’t wake me.”
Without warning he lifted her into his arms and headed toward the stairs. Halfway up, he couldn’t wait any longer for another taste of her. As he lowered his mouth to hers, he felt a need that shook him to the core.
He couldn’t recall another time when he’d known such a hunger. To taste. To touch. To possess.
He continued up the stairs and prayed for the strength to make it to the top before he gave in to the unbelievable passion that was nearly blinding him. With all the strength he could muster, he made it. Barely. Then he paused to kiss her again. A mistake, he realized at once. He should have waited until he’d reached his bedroom. Or hers.
“Annie.” Pressing her back against a closed door, he struggled to keep the kiss gentle, as the others had been. But it was impossible. The need for her was humming through him, threatening to break free and rip apart the last shred of his control. “I’m not sure we can make it to a bed.”
“Okay. I guess.” She tried to laugh, but the sound came out on a choking sob.
His kisses were no longer gentle. Nor were the hands that moved over her, setting off sparks wherever they touched. Beneath the thin veneer of control was a violence that excited her even while it frightened her. This wasn’t the urbane, civilized man who’d cooked dinner and served it by candlelight. This was the dangerous sailor she’d seen on the bay. A pirate, pitting his wiles against nature’s storm.
And what a storm. It howled and raged between them, hurling them into a frenzy unlike anything they’d ever felt before.
His mouth demanded, devoured. His hands moved over her, possessing, arousing, until she was trembling with need.
“Wait.” She put a hand on his chest. “I need to catch my breath.”
“I don’t want to wait, Annie.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the palm, then to her wrist, then higher to the bend of her elbow. “I’m beyond waiting.”
“I can’t…” Her sigh was laced with frustration and pleasure. She turned blindly up the hallway, toward her bedroom. “I need…”
“All right.” Sensing her fear, he dropped an arm around her shoulders and moved by her side. But after only a couple of steps he turned her into his arms and brushed his lips over her cheek, her jaw, her lips, loving the way her body reacted with a need that matched his own.
She drew back until she bumped against the closed door of her room. But he kept his hands on her, his lips on hers.
This was a mouth to savor. Full, generous lips. And a taste so sweet he had to keep returning to it, again and again. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her.
He cautioned himself to slow down. When he did he saw the way her eyes glazed as he nipped her lower lip, then dipped his tongue inside. Her eyes fluttered closed.
He could almost feel her skin soften and heat beneath his fingertips. Could feel the way she tensed, then released a breath, filling his mouth with the taste of her. Her heart was pounding almost as much as his.
He’d always felt a need for control, and now that it was slipping away from him, he realized he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was this woman, this moment, this all-consuming passion threatening to devour them both.
“The bed.” With his mouth on hers, he reached behind her and twisted the knob.
As the door opened, the two of them nearly fell into the room. It was only Ben’s arms around her that kept her upright. And then she was hauled against him, while his mouth fed on hers with a hunger that matched hers.
He sighed with frustration. He wanted her naked. He desperately needed to feel her flesh. As he lifted his hands to the buttons of her dress, he felt the way she trembled.
Trembled? It thrilled him as nothing else ever had. Though he wanted more than anything to strip away her clothes, he forced himself to put aside his needs and think about hers.
With a patience he’d never known he possessed, he skimmed his mouth over her face, whispering soft butterfly kisses across her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose.
She sighed. A long, drawn-out sound that went straight to his heart.
Calmer now, he brought his hands to the buttons at her throat. This time he was able to move slowly and deliberately, without fear of tearing the delicate fabric. One by one, as the buttons opened and the bodice parted, he kept his eyes steady on hers. Finally, as he slid the dress from her shoulders, he lowered his gaze.
The sight of her nearly staggered him. “You’re so beautiful, Annie. You take my breath away.”
“And you, Ben.” She tugged his sweater over his head and tossed it aside, needing to feel the warmth of his flesh. “You’re beautiful, too.”
He was—all hard, muscled flesh and skin burnished from the sun. She moved her hands over his hair-roughened chest, the flat planes of his stomach. She loved the way he quivered at her touch. Her hands splayed over his chest, and she could feel his heart thundering in rhythm with her own.
Somehow it steadied her to know that he was as caught up in the passion as she, to know that they were taking this crazy ride together. And it was crazy. Or at least it had seemed so just minutes ago. Now it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be standing here in the dark, the only light in the room coming from the spill of moonlight through the window. The play of light and shadow over his face gave him an added look of danger. And this man, w
ho just a day ago had been a stranger to her, now excited her as no man ever had. He was about to take her to the most intimate of all places.
He lowered his head to run soft, nibbling kisses down her throat and across her shoulder. As he did, she felt her breath catch in her throat. But when his mouth dipped lower, to the swell of her breast, she couldn’t hold back the little moan of pleasure. Instinctively she arched against him, driving them both mad with need.
He tugged on the last button of her dress, allowing it to glide soundlessly over her hips to the floor, where it pooled at her feet. Then he lifted her to the bed and shed the rest of his clothes before lying beside her.
Moonlight turned the ends of her dark hair to flame and gilded her skin. For several seconds he studied her, loving the way she looked. Like a beautiful, beguiling angel.
“You should always wear nothing but moonlight, Annie.”
She gave a husky laugh and reached out a hand to him. He surprised her by lifting it to his lips, where he kissed each finger. Then he leaned over her, allowing his mouth to roam over her torso, her ribs. With each touch of his mouth, she could feel the heat growing, and with it the need. Her breathing became more shallow as she felt herself slipping, slipping, deeper into that dark, demanding tunnel of desire.
“Ben, please.” She reached for him, but he resisted.
“Not yet, Annie. Not yet. Let me pleasure you. Pleasure both of us.” With lips and tongue and fingertips he roamed her body, fueling his own passion even as he drove her ever closer to the edge of madness.
He’d thought he wanted only relief from this blinding, aching need. But now he realized he wanted more. Much more. He wanted to touch, to taste, to savor. He wanted a feast, and here was a banquet of delight. The way she moved in his arms. The way she sighed with each new pleasure. It occurred to him that he wanted to touch not only her body but her heart and soul as well.
She thought she would die from the feel of those clever fingers moving over her. But when he found her, hot and wet, pleasure speared through her until it was close to pain. Sensation after sensation ripped through her, like arrows piercing her heart. She cried out until his mouth covered hers, swallowing the sound.
