But when she had finished recounting the day, there was a sudden silence. Jason was leaning back, his head resting on the rim of the Jacuzzi, his eyes half closed.
“Did you…did you design this place?” she asked him.
His eyes opened slightly. They seemed to cast a searing heat as they swept over her. “Yes.”
“I thought so. It’s so well planned—” She broke off, willing herself not to flush, because he was staring at her so hard. “You designed it for Sara,” she heard herself say.
He shrugged. “Yes.”
“Then it must bring back painful memories for you.”
He shook his head. “My memories aren’t painful. And what difference does it make? According to you, I’m a dating machine.”
“Well, it’s foolish,” she told him.
He shrugged again. “It’s better than what you do.”
“And what do I do?”
“Start off with your quills bristling.”
“I don’t—”
“Did you know that I’m fairly good friends with your cousin Jeremy? Second cousin, actually, isn’t it?”
Cary inhaled and gritted her teeth. Jeremy! What had he been saying about her?
“He says that you’ve gone out three times in three years. And that each time you acted like an ice princess.”
“An ice princess!”
“Yes, an ice princess. And that you never had any intention of enjoying yourself. At least I try.”
“I try, too,” Cary protested.
He sipped more champagne, watching her. Now he didn’t look so much like the cat who had eaten the canary. His eyes were still lazy, half closed, but very green as he stared at her.
“Would you quit that!” she snapped.
“Quit what?”
“Well, I may remind you of a porcupine, but at this moment you very much remind me of a crocodile. So laid back and ready to snap my head off at any moment.”
He laughed and leaned toward her. “I’m not going to bite your head off.”
He was close to her. Very close. She could see the water beading on his shoulders and chest, and she was very tempted to touch one of those little beads. She was even tempted to move closer, to taste one of those little drops of water, to put the tip of her tongue against his flesh.
“The…the life you’re living is very wrong,” she told him primly. She couldn’t draw her eyes from the water…or from his chest. Think! she warned herself. Remember.
“Is it?”
She heard his whisper, and then she knew that they were even closer. She felt his thumb and forefinger stroking her cheek, lifting her chin. And then she felt his lips on hers.
The rushing warmth of the water seemed to sweep through her like a fever, to touch her mouth, her body, her soul, with the same sweet fever. She had never imagined kissing any man besides Richard.
She couldn’t imagine not feeling the touch of this man….
He did not seduce; he did not coerce. He gave so much with the hungry pressure of his lips. They molded to hers; they brought a fantastic warmth, a burst of emotions and sensations to fruition within her.
Maybe she had always known that he would kiss like this. With no hesitation, with a sheer provocative mastery. Maybe she had known that his tongue would move, hauntingly, drawing sensual patterns over her lips, delving between them, seeking the deepest recesses of her mouth, bringing a surge of sweet desire, latent so long, rushing like a cascade of wild water through her.
A sound escaped her, soft, like a moan. A sound of pleasure. Perhaps even a sound of desire. She could never accuse him of seducing her. His first touch had been so light. Even that kiss had provided every opportunity for escape. Perhaps at that point it was she who seduced him. For it was her arms that were the first to curl around his neck. It was she who floated against him as the swirling hot waters of the Jacuzzi lent them aid, seeming to fit their bodies so closely together.
He kissed her again. And again. His fingers traveled down her back, stroking her flesh, her form. She pressed against his muscled body, torn by memory, awakened by it. She was never anything but aware that he was a different man, a very different man, from the one she had married, the one she had loved. But for once her senses were swept away. She wanted this man, and the sensations were so acute and demanding that she didn’t want to care about anything else.
She was in his arms, on his lap, yearning for more and more of his touch. His lips rose a fraction of an inch above hers, and he whispered softly, “I think we’re both relaxed at last.”
“It’s the Jacuzzi.”
“No, because not all my muscles are at ease,” he told her.
Her eyes widened, and she might have been awakened to exactly what she was doing. But he kissed her again as his fingers caressed her cheek, her chin, her collarbone, and his arms tightened around her. The hot whirl of the water was not something outside her anymore, but something that was a part of her.
His lips rose from hers again. “We can’t stay here.”
“No,” she whispered.
“I want this to go on.” Again he offered her every escape.
“I know.”
“Is it the champagne?”
“It helps, I’m sure,” Cary admitted.
She felt him stiffen. He would walk away now, if she chose. But she didn’t choose. She moistened her lips and tightened her arms around him. “Please…” she murmured.
He didn’t make her say more. They stepped from the Jacuzzi and walked across the pool area to a door that led to a private stairway. It led, she realized, from the pool area straight to his bedroom.
One light was on. It cast a soft, dim glow over the black comforter that covered the large bed, the mountain prints on the wall, the black and brass and glass of the furniture. Cary saw very little of it, for she kept her gaze on Jason McCready, on the green eyes that remained locked with hers. She shivered suddenly, violently, for despite the heat indoors, she had come wet from the Jacuzzi into the air, and now her flesh was chilled. Not for long. For when he had laid her down, he covered her with the warmth of his own form. His kiss seared her with heat again, and his caress became a touch of fire.
Once more, his gaze caught hers, and he offered her a last escape. “Will you stay?”
She wanted to speak, but she couldn’t. She nodded, closed her eyes and wound her arms around him, burying her face against him.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded her, drawing her away. And she did so, meeting his gaze. “Tell me that you want me. Say my name.”
“I want you.”
“My name.”
“Mr. McCready.”
“My first name!” He laughed, and she smiled.
She managed to whisper, “Jason. I want you, Jason.”
Then he asked nothing more of her, and the magic began.
He touched her…just where she longed to be touched.
And he kissed her…just where she longed to be kissed.
Fires rose in the night, the flames sending little licks of sensation to tease and torment and bring sweet pleasure to her. She saw his eyes in the dim magical glow of the night. And she saw his hands, so bronze, so large, so masculine and wonderful, against the pale hue of her own flesh.
And she kissed him. Touched the bare skin of his shoulder with the tip of her tongue, just as she had dreamed of doing.
It had been so long. So achingly long…
And what he offered her was good. So beautifully, perfectly good.
For he made love. He took nothing that he didn’t give. He demanded; he shared; he held her; he caressed her. He touched her…so tenderly. And so passionately.
Almost as if he could love her.
And when the sweet whirl of heat and fever rose from pitch to pitch, when the cascade of need and hunger and wanting came swirling to a peak, it burst upon them both with a volatile climax.
The sensations were so strong, so sweet, that Cary’s world went black. And when the light came
again, she was still trembling, still drifting. Held in his arms, she shook time and time again with the aftermath of pleasure.
And shock.
It wasn’t that she was suddenly horrified by what she had done. She had done it with her eyes wide open.
But she had done it without thinking. And though she still lay in his arms with the soft glow of the night a sweet shield around them, the garish rays of daylight would come streaking down upon her tomorrow, and she would have the future to live with.
She bit her lip, thinking that her suit was lying by the bed. Was there any way to slip into it without feeling awkward? Should she say thank you very much what a wonderful time and try to slip casually to her own room?
Good God, how could she ever go to work again? She had to quit! Unless he fired her. No—it was getting so close to Christmas. She couldn’t quit. Danny wanted a computer.
She was thinking about a computer at a time like this?
She started to move, but his hold on her tightened. “I—I have to go back,” she said in near panic. “Danny will be waking—”
“At one in the morning?” he said. Those eyes of his were on her again. And he was smiling.
“I have to go back,” she said stubbornly.
He kissed her lips. Then he moved away, rising on one elbow. He watched while she donned her suit, then comfortably slipped into his own. “I’ll walk you down for your robe and back to your room.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I said I’ll walk you back.”
Cary’s suit was still soaked, so cold after the warmth they had shared! As she hurried for the door to the stairway, she brushed by the bedside table, looking down as she struck it with her thigh.
And she stared at the picture. The picture of Sara McCready. Smiling so beautifully.
Oh, God. But Jason didn’t seem to notice. He moved past her, opening the door, then starting down ahead of her. He found her robe by the pool and set it around her shoulders, then smiled. “You’re shivering.”
“I’m cold.”
“You could have stayed warmly by my side.”
“We both have children.”
“We had more time.”
“No.” She shook her head, backing away from him.
“Cary, if you regret anything—”
“No, I don’t regret anything. It was wonderful. You know that. I mean…” Oh, she wasn’t good at this; she wasn’t good at all. She might as well be honest. “It was my first time since…Richard. And maybe I will be able to start seeing people again now. Thank you. But I need to be alone.”
“Cary—”
“I have to go!”
“Wait!” he said demandingly.
Why was she feeling such a swift rise of panic and handling things so poorly? “I have to go! And I don’t care what my leaving means. Even if you fire me!”
His jaw went very square. “Cary! I’m not firing you!”
The panic left her suddenly. But she still needed to escape. “So I don’t have to clean out my desk,” she murmured. She wanted to laugh, wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself against him all over again.
But most of all she wanted to be alone. Alone to deal with the sudden anguish that seized her now. She couldn’t let him walk her back. She turned and ran from the pool to the steps that led to the balcony, then back to her own room.
She spent the morning desperately trying to feel and act normally.
She must have done a better job than she had expected, because neither Danny nor Angela seemed to notice anything amiss. Cary didn’t know where Jason was; she hadn’t gotten a note from him, and he didn’t appear at the table when they went down for breakfast.
To Cary’s dismay, he did appear at the bunny slopes that afternoon. And although he had a meeting scheduled, he just brought the meeting to the bunny slopes with him. Cary recognized a number of the sales staff. They had looked a little dazed at the locale he’d chosen, but nobody was about to say anything.
Cary thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Especially when she skied down the little slope and, despite her very best efforts and determination, ended up on her hind end in the snow. Jason was there, smooth and sleek and infuriatingly comfortable on his skis, to assist her. “We’re going to talk tonight,” he told her briefly.
“No! The children—”
“The children are going to the lodge’s kids’ dinner club. They’re going to have hot dogs and play games and pop popcorn to string on the tree. And they’re going to sing Christmas carols and make Christmas gifts and have a great time. It is the Christmas Season! Have a little spirit!” he told her. “Be ready at six.” By then he had her on her feet and was gliding away.
She couldn’t begin to move so quickly. She could hardly move at all.
“Be ready for what?” she demanded.
But Jason McCready either didn’t hear her or didn’t intend to answer.
Danny left early for the kids’ dinner club. That gave Cary time to bathe and dress carefully. She didn’t know where she was going, so she chose a black velvet dress that she hoped was both concealing and elegant. She wasn’t going to run away tonight. She was just going to explain that they couldn’t go any further. Because…
Because she needed her job. And she couldn’t bear for things to be awkward.
And because she didn’t want to be one of his long string of women.
And that was the real rub, she admitted, seeing her features pale in the mirror as she slipped on her little pearl earrings.
Why? What did it matter? she asked herself. He was good for her. He would open up the world that she had closed away, and then she could go on.
No. She couldn’t.
Because she cared about him, she admitted. Because he had fascinated her from the start. Because no one else could draw the things from her that he had drawn so easily. No one else could make her forget Richard.
She hadn’t forgotten Richard.
Yes, she had. For those precious moments in Jason’s arms, she had forgotten.
She closed her eyes. He had made her say his name. But he had never spoken hers.
There was a knock on the door to the suite. Cary grabbed her coat and hurried out. She didn’t want him coming into her room.
His room, really. The whole lodge was his.
She was breathless when she threw the door open and saw him. His eyes were bright. He was still angry, she thought.
And in jeans and a leather jacket, he was far more casually dressed than she was.
“Oh! I’ll change,” she murmured.
“No, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. Not where we’re going. Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Cary demanded.
He could move so quickly when he was in a hurry. He had her by her elbow, and he hadn’t answered her question. In front of the lodge there were too many people around, all greeting Jason and nodding to her, for her to say anything. But finally they were in the Jeep, and she repeated her question. “Where are we going?”
“There.” He pointed to a structure just up the hill. Cary sighed. For a man who wanted to talk, he was extremely untalkative.
And she still had no idea where they were going.
The ride was too short, and yet it was also interminable. As soon as they entered the wooden building on the hill, she realized it was a private château, and that someone had readied it for their arrival. A fire was burning in the grate, and a delicious aroma was wafting from chafing dishes on the rustic table.
Jason removed his jacket, casting it onto one of the couches. He didn’t take her coat, but walked straight to the table, lifting the cover off one of the dishes. “Beef Stroganoff. And, let’s see, a very nice white burgundy. Have a seat.”
He pulled out her chair. Cary still had her coat on. “Jason, I never agreed to a private—”
“Did you want to discuss our sexual relationship publicly?” he demanded.
“We don’t have a relationship!”
she insisted.
He smiled. “Fine. Sit down and tell me why.”
Exasperated, Cary groaned, doffed her coat and then took the seat he had pulled out for her. He poured the wine, then sat opposite her. His eyes met hers as he lifted his glass to her.
“Well?”
“I just can’t see you anymore,” she said.
“Why not?”
“You’re my boss, for one thing.”
“We’re nowhere near work.”
“But we will be.”
“This has nothing to do with work, and you know it.”
Cary sipped her wine. “All right. All right—you need another reason? I don’t care to be one of the crowd.”
“The crowd?” One brow shot up. “Really, it isn’t that bad, is it?”
She flushed. “I just don’t—”
He leaned across the table. His fingers closed over hers. The warmth was electric. Seductive…frightening.
“I enjoy you. I like you. I admire you.”
“You’re lost, sunk, in your memories!” Cary told him.
He smiled ruefully. “I am? All right, then, Cary. We have everything in common. You’re in love with a ghost, too. But admit it, you’re having fun with me. You opened up. You didn’t do anything casual or careless last night. You made love with me! And that’s a hell of a lot more than you’ve managed before!”
She jumped up, and his wineglass slammed down. “At least I’m not always trying to run away!” he exploded.
But you’re not in love with me, either! Cary thought. And then she paused at the awful realization that maybe, just maybe, she was falling in love with him. It had started when he had picked her up for the week….
No. It had started before that. It had started with the fascination she felt each time she saw him.
And now…
“Give it this week,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re having fun. Hell, you’re even having sex. Give it this week. Then, if you want to stop, we will. We can go back to work and never even nod in the hallways.”
She should have said no right then.
He had brought her here, to complete privacy. To complete intimacy. But he would take her home if she wanted. She knew that. She had only to say the word.
Heather Graham Pozzessere - The Christmas Bride Page 6
