Unfortunately, if he let that happen, she would turn his body on and send it into overdrive. Keep it light, he reminded himself. “Are you asking me to help you paint?”
“If I was, what would you say?”
If she asked him to scour the tile grout with a toothbrush, on his hands and knees, he would agree. Or clean the grease off the wheel covers on her car with a cotton swab, he would jump at the chance. As long as he could spend time with her.
“I’d say okay.”
And hope like hell it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the backside.
With Kyle beside her, Cassie sat on the low wall separating the sand from the sidewalk. They’d finished painting, cleaned up and walked down to the beach to watch the sunset. The evening breeze caressed her cheeks, feeling wonderful after spending the day cooped up inside working.
As the golden fireball slowly dropped behind the curve of land that jutted into the ocean, the wispy clouds in the sky turned every shade of pink, purple and yellow. She must have seen the sight a thousand times, yet every sunset was different, profound. Simply beautiful. She sighed with absolute and utter contentment.
“What was that about?” he asked, glancing at her.
“The perfect end to an excellent day.” Cassie forced herself to laugh. Don’t let him see she’d been dead serious, she thought. Don’t spoil it. Because the whole day had been one of the best she could remember. Work had never been so much fun. Being with Kyle made everything wonderful. Painting, talking, laughing—kissing. Don’t go there, she warned herself. They’d spent days apart because of kissing. Her fault. He was right about that. But, she reminded herself, don’t spoil this completely flawless moment by making it mushy, or serious, or something it wasn’t and never would be.
Her day had certainly started out a downer, what with the broken lamp. But even that had been a blessing in disguise.
She looked at the sky and noticed how the waning sun’s golden rays swept a glow across the bottom of the clouds. “At the risk of getting into the milieu of our surroundings, have you ever thought about the saying every cloud has a silver lining?”
He followed her gaze and she heard the smile in his voice. “If you’re going where I think you are, it should be golden. But what’s your point? I’m sure you have one.”
“Today started out so bad.” She stopped short of telling him that the prospect of him being so near yet so far, of not seeing him, had dropped her spirits into the cellar. “My mother called and woke me up. I broke the lamp.”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this whole silver-lining thing.”
“Because of that broken lamp, you and I spent the day painting.”
“I say again—silver lining? Painting? As in work.” He held out his hands, moving them up and down as if juggling the two to see a correlation.
“It was fun. That’s all. And doing it alone would have been…not fun,” she finished lamely.
Brooding, he stared into the distance, at the glow above the headland where the sun used to be. “Maybe I should give up law and take up painting. Want to be my assistant? Like Holmes and Dr. Watson?”
“More like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Why?” He glanced at her. “I wouldn’t be stealing anything.”
Only my heart, she thought. “I was kidding,” she said. “Are you so jaded you’ve lost your sense of humor? Even the perfection of a spectacular sunset doesn’t move you?”
“It moves me, all right. And if you want to get into milieus, there’s the whole ‘ocean where sharks live’ thing.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Lawyers are often compared to sharks.”
“You’re not a shark. Yours is a perfectly fine job.”
He was back to his profession, but she couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t the work he wanted more from, but his personal life that was lacking.
He looked at her. “It can be a dirty job, but I suppose someone has to do it.”
“Not true. I mean it’s true that someone has to do it. But the job is nothing to be ashamed of and the pay’s not bad.”
“Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better. Making a living at a job I like and I’m actually good at that sucks the life out of people. I’m doomed,” he said, shaking his head. “An empty shell of a man.”
“And a very nice shell it is.”
The words had popped out and Cassie wanted them back in the worst way. Let him take it lightly, she prayed. Don’t let him see she’d been dead serious. Don’t spoil the day. He stared at her. In the twilight, without the sun’s brightness, she couldn’t decipher the expression on his face. She shivered.
“You’re cold. We should head back.” He stood and held out his hand.
She took it and let him pull her to her feet. Then he quickly released her, as if her fingers were hot coals and had burned him. He stuck his hands in his pockets as they strolled back to the duplex.
“Who knew you were so shallow?” he asked.
“Me? Shallow?”
“Yeah. That whole shell thing. Seeing only the exterior, with complete and utter disregard for my inner beauty.”
“That’s me,” she said. “Shallow as a sandbar. Along with the rest of the female population.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not blind. Now that I think about it,” she said, “that may be part of why your well is empty. Maybe it’s not your job at all. Going from woman to woman sucks the energy, if not the life, out of a person.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t met anyone available who’s worth putting all my energy into.”
What about me? she wanted to say. But she knew what he meant. He hadn’t met anyone he was attracted to who was worth his effort. The thought made her terribly sad and she couldn’t let him know.
“So for you it’s all about sex?” she asked, trying to inject a happy note into her tone.
“I plead the fifth.”
“You refuse to answer on the grounds that you might incriminate yourself?”
“‘Incriminate’ is such an ugly word,” he said, as they turned onto the walkway leading to the duplex.
“You’re tap-dancing, Stratton, and you know it.”
He climbed the three steps and leaned back against one of the wide circular supports holding up the porch roof. “Are you as bored talking about me as I am?”
She could talk about him forever. “Is that your way of taking the heat off yourself?”
“No. Actually I have something else in mind for that.”
“Such as?”
“You haven’t told me what happened between you and your fiancé.”
It wasn’t his words but the way his tone gentled and turned tender that opened up the painful memories inside her. “You don’t miss a trick, do you?”
“I’m not going to drop it. Call it a friend thing. Why did your engagement fall apart?”
“That tends to happen when you come home from work early and find your fiancé in bed with your roommate.”
She was so grateful he didn’t say he was sorry. She’d have been forced to sock him. Or cry. And she hadn’t cried over the whole mess. She’d told herself the guy wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t bear it if she broke down in front of Kyle Stratton.
“I couldn’t believe Lynnda would do that to me,” she said. Now that the wound was open she couldn’t seem to stop all the poison from oozing out. “Would you believe I asked her to share the apartment? I thought she was my friend. We worked together at the hospital. Then I introduced her to Steve. How stupid am I?”
“Not stupid at all.”
“You’re wrong. Sweet, but wrong. It was awfully damn dumb to let the she-devil of the planet into my home and give her access to my fiancé.”
“You’re not dumb—”
“Oh, yeah? It wasn’t the first time I came home from work and found them together. In fact it happened a lot and he always claimed he was waiting for me. I’d get stuck at the hospital and he would ask
whether I minded if he took Lynnda out to dinner. Don’t you see? She stabbed me in the back and I all but handed her the knife.”
“You keep saying she. What about Steve?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“He wasn’t a noninterested bystander. In all likelihood he made the first move. But even if he didn’t, he chose to sleep with her after asking you to marry him. He chose wrong.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know Lynnda. In fact, I’m not so sure she wasn’t the one to suggest we share an apartment.”
“Listen to me, Cass.” Kyle reached for her, but she backed away. “Steve is the guy you fell in love with. I know it’s easier to blame her for what happened.”
But if she didn’t blame Lynnda, then—oh, God. It was like all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle falling into place, a very painful puzzle.
“You’re right,” she said miserably. “I didn’t want to see it, but you’re right. If I blame him then I really am stupid. I picked him. It was easier to believe everything was her fault, that he was too weak to resist her questionable charms than to acknowledge I chose poorly. Or worse, I wasn’t enough for him.” Her voice broke as a knot of emotion lodged in her throat.
Tears swam in her eyes and she was grateful the sun had set and Kyle couldn’t possibly see or know. She refused to cry, especially in front of Kyle Stratton. She was fairly certain the man had never been disappointed in love. Cassie figured she was still being punished for those two good deeds. If she could spit in fate’s eye, she would do it and say enough already.
“It’s time for me to go in,” she said, using a great deal of effort to keep her voice steady.
She opened the outside door and walked inside. With shaking hands, she fit her key into the door of her half of the duplex while he did the same on his side. She heard his door creak as it swung wide, then she pushed hers open. But she didn’t hear his close. She couldn’t see him but felt him standing in front of his own unit, staring at her.
“I’m sorry, Cass.”
Rats. He could have gone for the rest of her life without saying those words. The last thing she wanted from him was pity. She would have her own pity party and Kyle wasn’t invited. Steve hadn’t wanted her. Kyle only wanted her as a friend. The sob lodged in her throat came out as a squeak. For God’s sake, she couldn’t even cry with grace and dignity. She cried like a mouse.
“Are you crying, Cassie?”
“No.” She sniffled.
“Damn it.”
“I’m not. Really.”
“The hell you’re not.”
She hadn’t heard him move, but suddenly he was there, his hands on her shoulders. He turned her into his solid, warm chest then wrapped her in his arms. She couldn’t help thinking her romantic ruin had almost been worth this single shining moment.
If only she could stay there forever.
Chapter Five
Cassie knew if she had any spine at all, she would step out of his wonderful strong arms, smile like the Brightwell she was, and disappear to have her breakdown in private. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his embrace and snuggled her closer, refusing to let her go.
“Paint fumes,” he explained.
God bless paint. Tears blurred her eyes as he led her over to his place. The next thing she knew, he’d flipped the switch on the wall beside the fireplace and flames appeared. Then they were sitting on the sofa and she was in his lap. She didn’t know how she’d gotten there and didn’t particularly care. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably and she was crying. And Kyle was there.
“You’re shaking,” he said, as if he needed an excuse to hold her in his arms.
“I—I never do this,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “Crying on your shoulder. Literally,” she said, and laughed. Or sobbed. She wasn’t sure which, but there was wetness involved and she knew it was probably a sob and she wasn’t a pretty sight.
“What are friends for?” His voice was husky and she could tell he was trying to keep it light.
They sat together for what could have been a few minutes or a lifetime. Cassie would never know. But finally the storm subsided. And her senses took over, making her aware of other things. Like the way Kyle’s heart hammered beneath her palm. The warmth of his hands skimming over her back. Tension in his arms. Kissing her hair. His erection poking her thigh.
Her eyes widened as her breath caught. She sat up and looked at him.
“Kyle, I can’t ignore that.”
“Why? I can. If I can, you can. And I wish you would.” His eyes smoldered as he stared at her. Then he let out a breath and said, “Oh, hell.”
Taking her face between his hands, he brushed his thumb across her mouth. She shuddered as he pulled her slowly toward him. At the same time she leaned in until she was close enough for him to kiss her. He groaned as he touched his mouth to hers. Cassie felt he was holding back, as if he were struggling against himself.
She had no clue why he was conflicted, but she intended to make it as difficult as possible for him to ignore her. She slid her hands around his neck and loosely linked her fingers. Needing to be closer, she pressed against him, nestling her breasts to the muscular wall of his chest. He moaned again. Then he tightened his hands on her arms and moved her back, breaking the contact of their mouths.
She blinked. “Kyle?”
“Cassie,” he said, his voice rough, like rocks tossed onto the shore by wild surf. “Look, if you’re okay now, you’d better go before—”
She shook her head. “Don’t. I can’t stand it if you send me away.”
That wasn’t dramatics. She didn’t think she could handle another rejection from him. The one from Steve had been bad enough. But Kyle—he’d been her benchmark for as long as she could remember, because she didn’t think she would ever get this close to him. That conclusion was based on the fact he’d turned her away twice. A third time would not be the charm. It could destroy her.
As opposed to moving forward, being with Kyle. What could that hurt? She knew how it felt to wonder—for years to imagine—how it would feel to kiss him. She didn’t want to regret not having him. It felt right. If it felt right, do it. That was her motto now. No more regrets.
She met his gaze as his hands cupped her cheeks. With his thumbs, he brushed away the lingering wetness beneath her eyes. “Cassie, I don’t want to hurt you. This is…I’m not the right guy for you.”
“You know—” Her voice caught and she hesitated, then met his gaze, her own skimming his tormented face. “I waited and waited for the right guy. It took me a long time—for reasons unimportant to this conversation—to be ready to take a chance on love, and look what happened. It was a complete disaster. Don’t even talk to me about the right guy. There’s no such thing.”
“You said yourself I’ve got a reputation.”
“I was teasing. I don’t care about tomorrow.”
“I do. If I hurt you—”
“You won’t. I don’t expect forever, just for now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ll go if you can tell me you don’t want me.”
“I wish I could,” he whispered.
Kyle let out a long breath. He’d never felt more alive than he did at that moment. Cassie didn’t take anything from him; she never had. She always gave freely, with all her heart. And he took. In the distant recesses of his conscience, a voice insisted he could lose everything important in his life if he didn’t turn back right now. This was a mistake. Just one in a series, he thought, the worst being he’d deluded himself that he and Cassie could be just friends. The second was his arrogance, his conceit, his unshakable belief that he could turn his back on her again.
Not this time. Not after kissing her.
Not after the way she was looking at him. This time would shatter her into more pieces than the broken lamp he’d swept up that morning. He couldn’t do it, to her, to himself. Damn his pesky selfish streak. He coul
dn’t deny himself any longer.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders as he slowly lowered her to the couch. The room was lighted only by the flames from the gas log and the glow from the outside deck light streaming through the kitchen blinds. Leaning over, he studied her face. There was complete trust in her eyes. He wasn’t the man to give her forever no matter how much he might want to. But he could give her for now and make it the best he knew how.
Tunneling his fingers into the silk of her hair, he leaned over her and met her trembling mouth with his own. She was soft, sweet, and tasted of sorrow and surprise. He licked her bottom lip and she opened to him, inviting him inside, a request he couldn’t deny. The moist interior was warm and welcoming. As their tongues dueled and stroked, he heard her moan of pleasure. Her breathing grew hard and fast and she strained against him.
Kyle slowly unbuttoned her shirt, then pushed the edges wide, fascinated by the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Cassie’s plain white cotton bra was somehow more erotic than transparent black lace on a lingerie model. He was grateful for the front clasp, which he flicked open with two fingers. Brushing the cups aside, he looked at her, unable to believe how perfect, how beautiful she was.
“You are unbelievable,” he whispered.
“Unbelievable good? Or unbelievable bad?” Her gaze was uncertain. “For a man of words like yourself, that one is not especially reassuring.”
“It’s actually very good.” He smiled as her breath caught when he traced a finger from her collarbone down the center of her chest to her navel. “As a man of words, I’m here to tell you ‘unbelievable’ means you’re so beautiful there aren’t any words special enough for you.”
Her full lips curved upward. “Good save.”
“That wasn’t a line. It’s the absolute truth.” He traced the swell of her breast with his finger, brushing it across her rosy nipple, which instantly snapped to attention.
She seemed to relax, in spite of the obvious sexual tension. But she wasn’t hesitant or shy with him. Maybe because they knew each other so well. He shook his head. It was more than that. It was as if, after wishing for something, her dream had finally come true and she embraced the moment.
The Summer House Page 15
