***
Nash drove until darkness fell. He took no joy in the spectacular rose and lavender sunset. One thought crowded another until he realized he'd screwed everything up because he was falling in love with Beth. That knowledge made his breath lodge in his chest. He'd slept little last night. Tonight wouldn't be any better.
He didn't need to check his machine. He believed her--too late. In an agitated state last night, he'd come home, left for a six mile run, showered, and gone to bed. Why couldn't he have given her the benefit of the doubt? There were many reasons, the uppermost being he hated to fail at anything.
He'd failed to keep his daughter safe, he'd failed to keep his marriage working, he'd failed to get that first project of Osgood's he'd gone after. He'd had too many failures and he'd sworn he wouldn't lose again. Was life making him cynical? Judgmental?
After Christy died, Monica had found someone else to love her, to comfort her, to understand her. He'd been so devastated by his grief, he hadn't read her signals. Was that why he'd reacted so strongly to Beth's association with Osgood? Don't give yourself an excuse, Winchester, you don't deserve it.
Nash wasn't surprised when he found himself in Shannon's driveway. He didn't climb out, but switched on the car light and dug his wallet out of his back pocket. Searching through the inside flaps, he found what he was looking for and pulled it out.
The edges around Christy's picture were bent. He stared at her and let the emotion rise in his throat. What he missed most was holding her, tickling her, cuddling her. He missed the wet kisses, sticky hands, broad smiles. The ache would never go away. He'd accepted that. It had diminished year by year. In the excitement of getting to know Beth, he'd almost forgotten about it.
Beth. He'd easily pictured her as a mother. Hell, he didn't even know if she wanted kids. What was she feeling right now? He'd seen the awful hurt in her eyes, the pain she'd tried to hide. The thought of Beth crying tore him up.
He slipped Christy's picture into his wallet, hit the light, and climbed out of the car. He went around the back of the house to check the patio. Shannon was sitting in a lounge chair, studying the sky.
"Star gazing?"
She smiled. "You caught me."
"It's legal."
"Good. I won't try to steal one and put myself in jeopardy." She tried to see Nash's face in the shadows of the citronella torch lights. "You look beat. Rough day?"
That was an understatement. "Rough couple of days. Where's Wayne?"
She aimed her chin at the house. "Giving the kids baths. It's his turn tonight."
Nash lowered himself into the lawn chair. "Do you and Wayne fight?"
Her shoulders lifted. "We disagree. We thrash it out. We rarely yell and scream. Why?"
"I just wondered. When Monica and I were married, it was like we had an unspoken agreement--avoid conflict at all costs. If she got angry, she withdrew."
"The silent treatment?"
"Yeah. Until the issue blew over."
"And what did you do?"
"I let her alone."
"You actually solved problems that way?"
"Sometimes."
"Get real, Nash."
"The unimportant ones solved themselves. The others... Obviously, we didn't know how to solve them. I swore if I ever got involved with a woman again, we'd talk everything out."
"But?"
"But I did something stupid. I jumped to conclusions. I found out something about Beth's past."
"Something she hasn't told you?"
"She won't now."
"You had a fight?"
"I don't know if she ever wants to see me again."
"She withdrew?"
"She slammed the door."
"You've got hands. Open it again."
"What if she locked it for good?"
"Then instead of your hands, use your mind and your heart." Shannon's tone said she had no doubts about it.
"I'm afraid she'll never confide in me now."
"Does it matter?"
It mattered too much. He realized he was more involved than he ever expected to be. "Yes. Because I won't know she trusts me unless she does."
"Maybe it's more important for you to trust her."
That socked him between the eyes. Shannon was right. If he proved to Beth he had faith in her, if he stood on that no matter what, she'd have to feel his trust. "How did you get so smart?"
Shannon put her hand over her heart and said dramatically, "It's the voice of experience. All thirty-eight years of it. I'd gladly give you a few if I could."
"Every one of them becomes you."
Shannon reached out to her brother and took his hand. "Everything will be all right if you follow your heart."
He squeezed her fingers. "That's a scary road."
Shannon didn't disagree.
****
Working wasn't the answer, Beth decided, looking around her office. Papers littered every hard surface. Drawers stood open. The office looked as if it had been ransacked. She had gone from one project to another, hoping to be inspired by something so she could focus and forget about Nash. But she couldn't. She remembered his accusations, the suspicion in his eyes, the bitter disappointment in his voice. He'd brought back memories she'd rather forget.
Her first trip to the grocery store after the newspaper carried news of her and John's "affair" had been a disaster. People had stared, whispered to each other, condemned her. Some even approached her and asked how she could do such a thing to John's family. To hers. They weren't interested in facts or denials. So she'd met their hostility with silence.
Beth left the shambles of her office. When she stepped outside, the ninety-degree heat hit her like a steam blanket. Once home, she slipped into her lightest jogging outfit of pink nylon. If she couldn't work off her mood, she'd run it off. Dropping the key into her bra, she took off at a brisk pace down the tree-lined street.
One mile stretched to two. By three she felt dehydrated and knew she had to quit. She ran until she was a block from her apartment, then walked. As sweat trickled down every patch of skin, she readjusted her sweatband so the drips missed her eyes.
A half block from her porch, she saw the navy Corvette parked at her curb. Another few yards and her eyes found Nash sitting on her porch step. Now, what was she going to do?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Beth stopped. She scanned Nash's shoulders pushing at the blue cotton shirt, his long legs emerging from cut-offs, and her heart tried to leap from her chest.
He stood, feet planted apart, blocking the porch.
She glanced along the side of the house, considering dodging him, running around back, and locking herself inside. She didn't need more abuse.
He folded his arms across his chest and looked like a Roman gladiator, 1992 version. "I'm not leaving until we talk."
Authoritarian, dominating, sexy, handsome... Damn! Taking a few deep breaths, she straightened her shoulders and walked up the steps, stepping over his foot as if he weren't there. She was aware of his eyes behind his sunglasses scorching her as she fished the key out of her bra. Unfortunately, Nash was too big to ignore. And he was too strong to dismiss. He could stop her from going inside if he wanted to. Or he was probably stubborn enough to sit on her porch steps until doomsday.
She took a stab at dissuading him. "We don't have anything to talk about."
His mouth turned down as he flipped off his sunglasses and hung them on his pocket. "Maybe you don't, but I do. I'll talk. You can listen."
She tossed him what she hoped was a withering glare and unlocked the door to step inside. Not stopping to offer him a seat, she went straight to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of orange juice, and drank it down. The trembling in her limbs was from exertion, nothing else.
His gaze followed the rise of the glass, the constriction of her throat as she swallowed. "It's too hot for jogging."
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, not caring if the gesture was ladylike. "I needed the ex
ercise."
"You could have had a heat stroke."
His remark had an edge, she couldn't decide if it was annoyance or anger. "That's my business. What do you care?"
"I care, Beth. I care a lot."
Damn! His voice had the same smoky quality that was there after he'd kissed her. With a snort of disbelief, she rinsed out her glass. "Yeah. You care so much you'd accuse me of..." Blast! She'd start crying in a minute and that was unacceptable. She plunked the glass on the counter and headed for the living room. "I have to take a shower."
Nash caught her arm in a no-nonsense hold. She looked down at his hand until he let go.
Mowing his fingers through his hair, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."
She scooted her eyes away from the hard length of his thighs, his slim hips, his flat stomach. Her reaction to his physical appeal made her explode. "You didn't trust me!"
"Do you trust me?"
Something in his eyes held her still. If she trusted him, she could tell him about John. Right? No. It was more complicated than that. Especially now.
He took a step toward her and waited to see if she'd back away. She could. She felt she should. He had jumped to conclusions, he had convicted her without a trial, he'd refused to listen... But she didn't back away.
Nash gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Maybe we both need to learn how to trust."
Her body quivered and he was only touching her lightly. His hands slid to the back of her neck and cupped her head. "I'm sorry, Beth. I figured I had tunnel vision because I thought you were getting Osgood's contract unfairly. But it wasn't that. I was jealous. I do care about you. And the thought of you with Osgood made me crazy."
"Oh, Nash." Her anger evaporated and suddenly nothing was more important than having his lips on hers. She'd missed him so much. His head came down and she leaned forward to meet him.
His lips played with hers until she opened her mouth to ask for more. His groan swept into her mouth as his tongue speared into hers, stroked hungrily, then thrust in a rhythmic, intimate motion, telling her exactly what he wanted.
She swayed, stabilized, then pressed into him, wanting to feel his arousal. Apparently he wanted to feel her softness just as much. His hands slid down her back and cupped her buttocks. Stars ricocheted in her head as his hardness met the V at her thighs.
He tore his mouth from hers and scattered kisses over her face, down her neck. "I need you, baby. I want you more than I ever thought I could." His fingers took the sweatband from her hair.
Abruptly she realized she wasn't perfumed, lotioned, and powdered. She was hot, bedraggled, sweaty. "Nash. Nash, I have to get a shower."
His eyes were glazed with desire when he gazed at her. "Now?"
"I'm a mess. I..."
He nibbled her earlobe and whispered, "You're perfect."
"Nash--"
He looked up again and saw she was serious. "We could shower together."
She gazed at him long and hard and admitted to herself this was what she wanted. "Yes, we could."
He swept her into his arms as if he was afraid she'd change her mind and carried her to the bathroom. Setting her down in front of the shower, his eyes devoured her. The blaze in them scared her, intoxicated her, invited her to another world--a world she could share with only him. She turned away from him and leaned into the shower, turning on the spigots.
When she faced him again, he was still watching. She took the hem of her tank top between her fingers and slowly pulled it over her head. She tossed it to the floor and he stepped closer.
His index finger traced the upper edge of her bra, bringing shivers to her shoulders. "I've imagined what you look like more times than I want to count."
Boldly, she reached out and unbuttoned his shirt. "And I've imagined touching you, more times than I want to count." She pulled his shirt from the waistband and pushed it back on his shoulders. As she slid her hand down the middle of his chest, he closed his eyes.
Leaning forward, she kissed his collarbone, rubbing her cheek in the curling hair. His body responded immediately, his manhood pulling at the crotch of his shorts. He sucked in his breath and held her away. "I hope this is a cold shower. Or the anticipation will kill me."
She grinned. "What a way to go."
He reached around her, trapped her in his arms, and unfastened her bra. "Do you have a sadistic streak?"
As her straps fell down her arms, she shook her head. He smelled so male, his muscles were so well defined, his sexual energy penetrated every fiber of her being, igniting a bonfire of need.
Nash held one of her breasts in each hand, bent his head, and brushed his chin over their soft skin slowly, sensually, erotically. Her world swam and she finally knew the meaning of "swoon."
"So silky," he murmured. "So perfect."
His reverence excited her more. When he straightened, Beth shook her head to clear it. Nash peeled off the remainder of his clothes and she followed, absorbing the power of his arousal.
He winked and grinned. "It's just me."
Her eyes flew up to his. She bit her lower lip and climbed into the shower. Nash followed her and pulled the door shut. There were no distractions, no outside noise, only the water, their naked bodies, and the few inches between them.
Beth had never found breathing to be so difficult. Nash's eyes roamed her body over and over as if he couldn't look long enough. Finally, he asked, "Would you like to have your back scrubbed?"
His vital maleness weakened her knees. "If you're doing the scrubbing." She stepped into the water and let it sluice over her hair, down her shoulders, until her skin was wet and shiny.
Nash swept his gaze from her sleek wet breasts to her lips, to her eyes, and picked up the soap.
Beth couldn't keep her hands to herself. All that wonderful male territory to explore. She'd start at the top. The tips of her fingers stroked his lean cheek.
Her touch activated him. He folded her into his arms, his right hand clutching the bar of soap. As the water splattered against his shoulders, he kissed her long and hard and deep, his tall frame sheltering her from the pinging wet nettles. His scorching, open-mouthed kisses started her body vibrating. The sensation began in her womb and spread to her arms and legs.
Nash released her to stare all over again, as if he wanted to savor every second. She felt her wet hair drip around her face. Nash caught a droplet with his tongue then followed a path from her cheek to her throat with playful nibbles that made her knees wobble. At the same time, he put the soap to use.
His hand slid around her breast, covering it with a sudsy film, while his other hand rolled a nipple on the pad of his thumb. She couldn't prevent a soft whimper from escaping as he gently tucked her upper lip between his teeth and tickled it with his tongue.
This was Nash. This was excitement. This was pleasure. This was love. Her heart skipped a few beats as she admitted it to herself.
He murmured in her ear. "You are so beautiful. I want to touch every inch of your skin and make love to all of you."
Make love. Did he mean it as a euphemism? Or was he in love too? She needed to believe he was. She pressed her lower body against his desire. "I want you to make love to me."
He whispered, "Slowly. Little by little." He captured her lips again as he stroked the slippery underside of her breasts and slowly wreathed the aureolas. A tremor rolled through her and she murmured against his lips, "It feels wonderful."
"You're wonderful. I want to make you mine, Beth. All mine."
His possessiveness thrilled her. For the moment, he was the conqueror claiming his lady. She had no urge to resist.
He soaped her back, skated his hands over her derriere and the hollow at the base of her spine. Releasing her lips, he gazed into her eyes as his hands splayed across the fullness of her hips. It was obvious he wanted to pleasure her in as many ways as he could for as long as he could. Her heart soared because he wanted to give her that gift.
His hands
began a journey to the front of her thighs. She wanted to scream, Touch me, please touch me, but his eyes commanded her to be patient because the wait would be worthwhile.
She wriggled, longing to feel his hands where she wanted them most. He smiled. With deliberate slowness he stroked her thighs, each time coming closer to the mysterious recesses of her flaming need. He petted with feathery lightness while his strong arm held her up, supporting her against the dizzying sensations he incited.
"Nash, touch me. Please." She couldn't wait. She'd die if he didn't...
His hand cupped her feminine mound. With silky fingers he touched the petallike folds where she was the most sensitive. Her eyes closed. As he probed deeper, she murmured his name. He would have taken her over the crest of her escalating passion, but she didn't want that. Not yet. She wanted to be one with him when that happened.
Gathering every ounce of willpower available, she breathed deeply and moved away from his hand.
"Baby, what's wrong? Have you changed your mind?" His voice was thick with passion and his own need.
"Nothing's wrong." She took the soap from his hand and tried to steady her breathing. "It's your turn."
While the water trickled down his chest, Beth kissed his lips, his neck. She lathered his chest, mapped his initial, then let the water rinse the dark curly tendrils before she tugged one of his nipples gently between her teeth. He released a sound deep in his throat as she sucked more firmly and nuzzled him with her lips. When she stood back, his eyes were closed. She smiled, soaped her hands, then glided her fingers over his firm stomach and forayed lower and lower. His muscles strained and tensed as he strove for control.
She whispered, "Turn about is fair play. Isn't this fun?"
When his eyes opened they were a fierce green. "Fun? If you do much more--"
She took him in her soapy hands and he gasped. Sweet torture wracked his face. "You keep that up and I'll take you right here."
"That would be interesting," she breathed, as aroused as he was. She coaxed, provoked, and fondled until Nash grabbed her by the shoulders with shaking hands and pulled her tight against him. He tightened his hold and ground against her, pushing up into her softness. "I need you. Do you want to go--"
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