He caught hold of her hands. Kissed them.
“I want to undress you,” he said.
He did. Slowly. Raising her sweatshirt as she raised her arms. Pulling it over her head, then tossing it aside.
She felt the kiss of night air on her breasts, then the heat of his mouth, and she cried out in shocked wonder at the feel of it.
She grabbed his shirt. He shook his head.
“Not yet,” he whispered, knowing that he had to see all of her before this went any further, that his control was slipping away like honey from a spoon.
“Not yet,” he said again, and he hooked his thumbs into her sweatpants and drew them down her hips, down her long legs.
Ah, lord, she was exquisite.
High, rounded breasts. Slender waist. A woman’s hips, lush and lovely. Those long, elegant legs. And at the juncture of her thighs, a mass of gold curls, waiting for his caress.
“Sage. You’re so beautiful....”
She reached for him again. His shirt was half-unbuttoned and now she undid the rest, her eyes never leaving his, their hot glitter burning him like flame.
He shrugged off the shirt. She gave a little hum of delight and skimmed her hands over his muscled shoulders and chest, his six-pack abs.
He’d always taken care of his body, playing sports, training for the Agency, riding his horses. He’d done it because he believed in keeping strong and, yes, he’d done it for vanity, too.
Now, in some inexplicable way, he knew he’d done it for her, for a woman he’d never expected to meet, to know, to have.
Her hands were at his belt. His fly.
All at once, it was too much. He pushed her hands aside, gently, but there was nothing gentle in the way he undid his zipper, stepped out of his trousers and black shorts, and drew her back into his arms.
He groaned at the feel of her skin against his. At the scent of her. Woman. Soap. Arousal.
He kissed her. She dug her hands into hair, lifted herself to him. Cried out at the feel of his erection against her.
They tumbled onto the bed.
White sheets. White pillowslips. White duvet. The perfect setting for her golden skin, her golden hair....
Her innocence.
Innocence that had nothing to do with virginity but was, instead, a part of her, a sweetness of soul like the petals of a flower.
Caleb kissed her breasts. Suckled at her nipples. Heard her soft cries of pleasure as he kissed his way down the length of her, nuzzled her thighs apart, sought and found the ineffable sweetness that awaited him.
Her cries came faster.
Her hands dug into his hair.
He kissed. Nipped. Licked.
She screamed and came against his mouth.
He gave himself the exquisite pleasure of savoring the taste of her orgasm. Then he rose, moved up her body, took her mouth with his and let her taste their mingled passion on his tongue.
She moaned.
Raised her hips.
Arched against him.
He kissed her again. Then he knelt between her thighs...
And went still as stone.
No, he thought, no...
“What is it?” she whispered.
He wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe just do whichever came first.
“I don’t have anything with me,” he said. She shook her head. “Condoms, Sage. I don’t have—”
She reached out her hand, lay her index finger lightly over his mouth.
“It’s okay.”
“No. It isn’t. I—”
“It’s fine, Caleb. I’m on the pill.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. She’d just spoken the sweetest words he’d ever heard.
“Good,” he said softly. “Perfect. Absolutely per—”
She arched toward him.
He eased inside her.
She was hot. Wet. She was a miracle, just waiting for him to claim.
“Sage,” he whispered.
She made a tiny, incoherent sound.
He watched as her eyes lost their focus. Watched her head toss from side to side.
He went deeper. Moved faster. Harder. Set a rhythm that transcended any he’d ever known.
He was a man who’d known lots of women. Who’d had lots of sex. Who knew the pleasure, the joy, the wonder of it...
But never like this. Never like—
Caleb’s thoughts blurred.
She was trembling. Sobbing. She said his name, said it again, and then she gave a cry of such ecstasy that it drove him straight to the edge.
“Sage,” he said.
Her muscles contracted around him.
She screamed, he threw back his head and they tumbled off the edge of the universe together.
* * *
Locked in each other’s arms, they slept deeply and dreamlessly until something woke him.
A sound. A noise.
For a couple of seconds, he didn’t know where he was.
Then the woman beside him sighed and it all came back. Meeting her. Bringing her here. Staying the night...
Making love with her.
He smiled. Bent over her sleeping form and pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
Light was coming in through the window. He could hear sounds from the street. That must have been what had wakened him.
He was accustomed to the silence of his Dallas penthouse condo, the Wilde ranch.
Could Sage grow accustomed to those same things?
The thought stunned him.
Why would he even think along those lines? Yes, he wanted to see her again, whenever he was in New York....
Unless he could see her in Dallas.
Crazy idea. Absolutely nuts.
What he needed was some coffee.
He rolled carefully from the bed, tugged on his trousers and padded, barefoot, into the kitchen.
The spill was as it had been the night before. No problem. He’d clean it up but first...
He’d said he’d find her a place to live. A job. Did it matter if he did it here or in Dallas?
“Hell, man,” he whispered, “of course it matters...”
But it wouldn’t hurt to make, what, an exploratory phone call. Check things out...
Caleb padded into the living room. His cell phone was on the coffee table, where he’d left it. He picked it up, went back into the kitchen, hit the button that dialed his brother, Travis.
Travis answered on the eighth ring.
“This better be good, man,” he grumbled, “because it might be six in the morning in New York but here, in the real world, it’s—”
“What do you know about the theater in Dallas?”
There was a few seconds of numbing silence.
“I said—”
“I heard you. What’d you do, hit your head? What the hell would I know about the theater? And why would you give a damn?”
“You’re dating that redhead. The actress. Did she ever say anything about, you know, acting jobs?”
“I was dating her. She’s not an actress, she’s a singer. And what in hell are you talking about?”
What, indeed?
Caleb turned his back to the kitchen door. The last thing he wanted was for Sage to catch him making plans. Or not making them. This was just what he’d called it: an exploratory conversation. He had exploratory conversations all the time....
Legal ones.
Never one that involved asking a woman he’d only just met to move to the town where he lived.
Hell.
What was he doing? Great sex and not enough sleep. A bad combination.
“Caleb?”
Travi
s sounded worried. Caleb snorted. Why wouldn’t he?
“Yeah. I’m here. Look, forget what I—”
He heard the sound of the toilet flushing through the thin walls. Sage was awake. Dammit, he had to end this call—
“Who the crap are you?”
Caleb swung around. A man was standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at him. The guy was a couple of years younger than he was, smaller, but trim.
“Caleb?” Travis said.
“Later,” Caleb said, and disconnected.
Great. Somebody had broken into Sage’s apartment while he’d been playing pie-in-the-sky, and now he was going to have to take him on half-dressed—and, apparently, with only half his brain functioning.
“Take it easy,” he said as calmly as he could. “Do the smart thing. Turn around, walk out the door—”
The intruder took a step forward.
“I asked you a question. Who are you? And what are you doing in my apartment?”
Caleb blinked. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, your apartment?”
“I mean exactly what I said, pal.” The man’s gaze swept over Caleb, taking in his naked chest and bare feet. “Where’s Sage? What have you done to her?”
“You know Sage? And you live—you live—”
“I’m calling the cops.”
“No. Wait a minute—”
“David?”
It was Sage. She stepped around the intruder, her eyes locked on Caleb.
“Caleb. Don’t hurt him.”
“You know this guy?”
“I told you, pal, I live here.”
Caleb’s gaze went to Sage. “Is that true?”
“Yes. It’s true. But—”
“Sage,” the intruder said, sliding his arm around her shoulders, “you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She paused. “Caleb. This is—”
“David,” Caleb said, his voice flat and cold. “I heard you the first time.”
“No! It isn’t what you’re thinking—”
Caleb gave an ugly laugh. “You don’t know the half of what I’m thinking.”
“Sage,” David said, “what’s going on? I go away overnight, I come back and I find a—a naked guy in our kitchen.”
“Caleb,” Sage said urgently, “there’s a simple explanation for—”
“I’ll bet there is,” Caleb said through a tight smile. “You and lover boy here, you have an arrangement.”
“No!”
“Yes.” David gave an embarrassed laugh, let go of Sage and moved toward Caleb. “Hey, dude, I’m sorry. You just caught me by surprise. Arrangement or not, I probably should have phoned before I barged in.” Smiling, he held out his hand. “We okay now?”
Caleb narrowed his eyes.
Hatred pumped through his veins. For this smiling SOB. For Sage. For himself, most of all, for having been such a fool.
“We’re just fine,” he growled, and for the second time in fewer than twelve hours, he put everything he had into a hard right hook.
Sage shrieked. Her boyfriend went down like a stone, eyes rolled up, feet in a mess of milk and glass. She dropped to her knees beside him.
“David! David, talk to me!” She looked up at Caleb, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You—you hit him. How could you do that?”
Caleb’s lips drew back from his teeth.
“Hell,” he said, “how could I not?”
He strode past her, got his shoes and shirt from the bedroom, his jacket and his sanity from the living room, and went straight out the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
TRAVIS Wilde stood just outside the double glass doors that led into the Dallas offices of Wilde and Wilde, Attorneys at Law.
Beyond those doors, a sea of antique red-oak flooring led to a handmade glass desk, the province of the silver-haired, always-dressed-in-black, stern-faced woman who sat behind it.
Edna Grantham—Miss Edna, unless you wanted your head sheared off—had been his brother’s keeper-of-the-gate since the start of Caleb’s firm.
She reminded Travis of his fourth-grade teacher, a woman with an icy disposition and little tolerance for the occasional foolishness of nine-year-old boys.
He was a grown man now, still occasionally foolish, though only when he chose to be, but old memories died hard, and Miss Edna could quell him with a look, especially when she thought it was in defense of her boss.
Travis knew, in his bones, he was not her favorite person.
Her icy looks and monosyllabic responses made it clear that she blamed him for being the guy who’d lure Caleb out of his office to go over to the Arts District for lunch at a new taco truck, for getting Caleb to leave early on Fridays for a beer at the bar around the corner, for luring him into playing hooky when Jacob was in town.
The truth was, Travis wasn’t entirely guilty.
Yes, there were times Caleb could be a little stuffy. Hey, he was a lawyer.
But unless he was in court or in an important client meeting, Caleb was almost always agreeable to a little diversion.
He’d even been known to suggest them.
Miss Edna might not want to believe it but behind Caleb’s lawyerly demeanor beat a true Wilde heart.
But not lately.
Lately, he was too busy to do anything. Anything that involved being with other people.
That was the reason Travis had come by this morning.
It was time to confront Caleb and ask him what the hell was going on.
He had changed.
Travis and Jake had both noticed it. So had Addison, Jake’s wife, who was the second Wilde in Wilde and Wilde, Attorneys at Law. She was in the Dallas office three days a week, which meant she often saw Caleb more than they did, and she, too, said Caleb seemed different.
“He’s very quiet,” she said. “And a little short-tempered.”
Last night, Travis had driven out to Jake and Addison’s ranch for dinner.
Caleb had, of course, been invited.
“He said he’s too busy,” Jake said, when Travis asked if he was coming.
Too busy was Caleb’s constant reply lately. That, and I don’t have time.
Not for anything.
Dinner. Weekend barbecues. The monthly poker game that had, for crissake, been Caleb’s own idea since the ice age.
He was too busy for all of it or any of it, and if you pushed, he’d get a leave-me-alone kind of look in his eyes that was as unpleasant as it was new.
The question was: Why?
Travis didn’t have a clue. Neither did Jake. The one thing they did know was that the change in their brother had started right after he’d flown to New York a couple of months ago.
He’d returned a different man.
Which was, of course, just plain crazy.
So, something was wrong, but what?
“One of you has to ask him,” Addison had said last night.
The Wilde brothers were close. Always had been, always would be—but they’d always respected each other’s privacy. And, of the three of them, Caleb was probably the one who’d chew on a problem longest before talking about it.
Travis got all that.
But he was getting worried. They all were. And that was the reason he was standing outside the door to his brother’s office this morning.
He’d come prepared. He didn’t want to seem too obvious, so he had something in his Italian leather briefcase, a set of documents, a letter...
A job, one that was different from Caleb’s usual forays into corporate warfare. Luck had dropped it into his lap yesterday—and, dammit, the longer he stood out here thinking, the tougher this was starting to seem.
Travis straightened his tie. Cleared
his throat. He was nervous, and he was a man who didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Hell. Miss Edna was staring at him through the glass doors.
Okay. One last deep breath. One long exhalation. Here we go, he thought, and he pulled the doors open and marched across the sea of polished oak, took the million-mile walk to the reception desk.
“Good morning,” he said briskly.
Miss Edna glanced to one side, then to the other. She half-rose from her chair and leaned forward until her face was inches from his.
“Oh, Mr. Travis,” she whispered, “I am very glad to see you!”
“It’s Travis. Just Travis,” he said automatically. He’d been telling her that for years, to no avail. “You are?”
She nodded. “It’s Mr. Caleb.”
Travis’s heart rate soared. “What happened?”
“Well, that is the problem, Mr. Travis. I don’t know. I only know that he is not himself. It’s got worse and worse and today—”
“Today?”
“Mr. Caleb had an appointment with Judge Henry. He spent weeks trying to get that appointment. And when I reminded him of it, he told me to phone the judge’s clerk and cancel. Cancel, can you imagine?”
Travis could not. Caleb might goof around outside work but never, ever when it came to his practice.
“Okay,” he said, even more briskly. “Please tell him I’m here.”
Miss Edna blushed. A definite first.
“Perhaps it’s better if you just walk in, unannounced.”
“You mean, if you tell him, he’s liable to say—”
“He’ll say he’s busy.”
“Or he doesn’t have the time.” Travis nodded. “You’re right. Okay. I’m just going to walk in on him. I’ll tell him you were away from your desk.”
“Tell him what you like, Mr. Travis. Do whatever it takes, but do it.”
Travis nodded again. “Worry not,” he said, trying for a light touch, but it didn’t work. That Miss Edna was worried enough to confide in him was the clincher.
Something bad was going down.
Caleb’s office was at the end of a long hall.
Travis hurried past a big conference room, a small conference room, a library, clerks’ offices, a fax and printing room and an office Travis knew belonged to his sister-in-law, who wasn’t in today.
Harlequin Presents January 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Ruthless Caleb WildeBeholden to the ThroneThe Incorrigible Playboy Page 5
