For The Love Of Lilah tcw-3

by Nora Roberts

"Yes." He traced her mouth with a fingertip. "I figured it was wishful thinking."

  "You don't give yourself enough credit, Professor." She traced light, lazy kisses over his face. "You're an attractive man with an admirable mind and a sense of compassion that's irresistible." Her eyes didn't light with amusement when he shifted–Instead she lay a hand on his cheek. "When you made love with me tonight, it was beautiful. The most beautiful night of my life."

  She saw it in his eyes. Not embarrassment now, but plain disbelief. Because she was defenseless, stripped to the soul, nothing could have hurt her more.

  "Sorry," she said tightly and moved away. "I'm sure that sounds trite coming from me."

  "Lilah..."

  "No, it's fine." She pressed her lips together until she was certain her voice would be light and breezy again. "No use complicating things." As she sat up, she tossed her hair back. "There aren't any strings here, Professor. No trapdoors, no fine print. We're two consenting adults who enjoy each other. Agreed?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Let's just say we'll take it a day at a time. Or a night at a time." She leaned over to kiss him. "Now that we've got that settled, I'd better go."

  "Don't." He took her hand before she could slip off the bed. "Don't go. No strings," he said carefully as he studied her. "No complications. Just stay with me tonight."

  She smiled a little. "I'll just seduce you again."

  "I was hoping you'd say that." He pulled her against him. "I want you with me when the sun comes up."

  Chapter Eight

  When the sun came up to pour golden light through the windows and chase away the last dusky shadows, she was in his arms. It seemed incredible to him that her head would be resting on his shoulder, her hand fisted lightly over his heart. She slept like a child, deeply, curled toward him for warmth and comfort.

  Though the night was over, he lay still, loath to wake her. The birds had begun their morning chorus. It was so quiet, he could hear the wind breathing through the trees. He knew that soon the sound of saws and hammers would disrupt the peace and bring reality back. So he clung to this short interlude between the mystery of the night and the bustle of day.

  She sighed and settled closer as he stroked her hair. He remembered how generous she had been in those dark sleepy hours. It seemed he had only to think, to wish, and she would turn toward him. Again and again they had loved, in silence and with perfect understanding.

  He wanted to believe in miracles, to believe that it had been as special and monumental a night for her as it had been for him. He was afraid to take her words at face value.

  No one's ever made me feel the way you do.

  Yet they had played over and over in his head, giving him hope. If he was careful and patient and weighed each step before it was taken, maybe he could make a miracle.

  Though he didn't feel suited to the role of prince, he tilted her face to his to wake her with a kiss.

  "Mram." She smiled but didn't open her eyes. "Can I have another?"

  Her voice, husky with sleep, sent desire shivering along his skin. He forgot to be careful. He forgot to be patient. His mouth took hers the second time with an edgy desperation that had her system churning before she was fully awake.

  "Max." Throbbing, she locked herself around him. "I want you. Now. Right now."

  He was already inside her, already dragging her with him where they both wanted to go. The ride was fast and furious, shooting them both to the top where they clung, breathless and giddy.

  When her hands slid off his damp back, she still hadn't opened her eyes. "Good morning," she managed. "I just had the most incredible dream."

  Though he was still light–headed, he braced on his forearms to look down at her. "Tell me about it."

  "I was in bed with this very sexy man. He had big blue eyes, dark hair that was always falling in his face." Smiling, she opened her eyes and brushed it back for him. "This long, streamlined body." Still watching him, she moved her hands deliberately over him. "I didn't want to wake up, but when I did, it was even better than the dream."

  Afraid he was crushing her, he rolled to reverse their positions. "What are the chances of spending the rest of our lives in this bed?"

  She dropped a kiss on his shoulder. "I'm game." Then she groaned when the drone of power tools cut through the morning quiet "It can't be seven–thirty."

  As reluctant as she, he glanced at the clock beside the bed. "I'm afraid it can."

  "Tell me it's my day off."

  "I wish I could."

  "Lie," she suggested, laying her cheek on his chest.

  "Will you let me take you to work?"

  She winced. "Don't say that word."

  "Go for a drive with me after?"

  She lifted her head again. "Where?"

  "Anywhere."

  Tilting her head, she smiled. "My favorite place."

  Max kept his mind off Lilah–or tried to–by focusing on the multilayered task of locating people to go with the names on his list. He checked court records, police records, church records and death certificates. His meticulous legwork was rewarded with a handful of addresses.

  When he felt he'd exhausted all the leads for that day, he drove by C.C.'s garage. He found her buried to the waist under the hood of a black sedan.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt," he shouted over the din jingling out of a portable radio.

  "Then don't" There was a streak of grease over her brow, but her scowl disappeared when she looked lip and saw Max. "Hi."

  "I could come back."

  "Why, just because I snapped your head off?" She grinned, taking a rag out of her coveralls to wipe her hands: "Buy you a drink?" She jerked her head toward a soft drink machine.

  "No, thanks. I just stopped by to ask you about a car."

  "You're driving Lilah's, aren't you? Is it acting up?"

  "No. The thing is I might be doing a lot of driving in the next few days, and I don't feel right using her car. I thought you might know if there's anything for sale in the area."

  C.C. pursed her lips. "You want to buy a car?"

  "Nothing extravagant. Just some convenient transportation. Then when I get back to New York..." He trailed off. He didn't want to think about going back to New York. "I can always sell it later."

  "It so happens I do know somebody with a car for sale. Me."

  "You?"

  Nodding, she stuffed the rag back into her pocket. "With a baby coming, I've decided to turn in my Spitfire for a family car."

  "Spitfire?" He wasn't sure what that was, but it didn't sound like the kind of car a dignified college professor would drive.

  "I've had her for years, and I sure would feel better selling her to someone I know." She already had his hand and was pulling him outside.

  There it sat, a fire–engine red toy with a white rag top and bucket seats. "Well, I..."

  "I rebuilt the engine a couple of years ago." C.C was busy opening the hood. "She drives like a dream. There's less than ten thousand miles on the tires. I'm the original owner, so I can guarantee she's been treated like a lady. And there's..." She glanced up and grinned. "I sound like a guy in a plaid sports jacket."

  He could see his face in the shiny red paint. "I've never owned a sports car."

  The wistfulness in his voice made C.C. smile. "Tell you what, leave me Lilah's car, drive her around. See how she suits you."

  Max found himself behind the wheel, trying not to grin like a fool as the wind streamed through his hair. What would his students think, he wondered, if they could see sturdy old Dr. Quartermain tooling around in a flashy convertible? They'd probably think he'd gone around the bend. Maybe he had, but he was having the time of his life.

  It was a car that would suit Lilah, he thought. He could already see her sitting beside him, her hair dancing as she laughed and lifted her arms to the wind. Or kicked back in the seat, her eyes closed, letting the sun warm her face.

  It was a nice dream, and it could come true. At least for a w
hile. And maybe he wouldn't sell the car when he got back to New York. There was no law that said he had to drive a practical sedan. He could keep it to remind him of a few incredible weeks that had changed his life.

  Maybe he'd never be sturdy old Dr. Quartermain again.

  He cruised up the winding mountain roads, then back down again to try out the little car in traffic.

  Delighted with the world in general, he sat at a light, tapping his fingers against the wheel to the beat of the music on the radio.

  There were people jamming the sidewalks, crowding the shops. If he'd seen a parking place, he might have whipped in, strolled into a shop himself just to test his endurance. Instead, he entertained himself by watching people scout for that perfect T–shirt.

  He noticed the man with dark hair and a trim dark beard standing on the curb, staring at him. Full of himself and the spiffy car, Max grinned and waved. He was halfway down the block before it hit him. He braked, causing a bellow of bad–tempered honking. Thinking fast, he turned a sharp left, streaked down a side street and fought his way through traffic back to the intersection. The man was gone. Max searched the street but couldn't find a sign of him. He cursed low and bitterly over the lack of a parking space, over his own slow–wittedness.

  The hair had been dyed, and the beard had hid part of the face. But the eyes...Max couldn't forget the eyes. It had been Caufield standing on the crowded sidewalk, looking at Max not with admiration or absent interest, but with barely controlled rage.

  He had himself under control by the time he picked Lilah up at the visitors' center. He had made what he considered the logical decision not to tell her. The less she knew, the less she was involved. The less she was involved, the better chance there was that she wouldn't be hurt.

  She was too impulsive, he reflected. If she knew Caufield had been in the village, she would try to hunt him down herself. And she was too clever. If she managed to find him... The idea made Max's blood run cold. No one knew better than he how ruthless the man could be.

  When he saw Lilah coming across the lot toward the car, he knew he'd risk anything, even his life, to keep her safe.

  "Well, well, what's this?" Brows lifted, she tapped a finger on the fender. "My old heap wasn't good enough, so you borrowed my sister's?"

  "What?" Foolishly he'd forgotten the car and everything else since he'd recognized Caufield. "Oh, the car."

  "Yes, the car." She leaned over to kiss him, and was puzzled by his absent response and the pat on her shoulder.

  "Actually, I'm thinking of buying it. C.C.'s in the market for a family car, so..."

  "So you're going to buy yourself a snappy little toy."

  "I know it's not my usual style," he began.

  "I wasn't going to say that." Her brows drew together as she studied his face. Something was going on in that complicated mind of his. "I was going to say good for you. I'm glad you're giving yourself a break." She hopped in and stretched. Her lifted hand reached for his, but he only gave it a light squeeze, then released it. Telling herself she was being oversensitive, she fixed a smile in place. "So, how about that drive? I was thinking we could cruise down the coast."

  "I'm a little tired." He hated lying, but he needed to get back to talk to Trent and Sloan, to feed the new description to the police. "Can I have a rain check?"

  "Sure." She managed to keep her smile in place.

  He was so polite, so distant. Wanting some echo of their previous intimacy, she put a hand over his when he slipped into the car beside her. "I'm always up for a nap. Your room or mine?"

  "I'm not...I don't think that's a good idea."

  His hand was tense over the gearshift, and his fingers made no move to link with hers. He wouldn't even look at her, hadn't really looked at her, she realized, since she'd crossed the lot.

  "I see." She lifted her hand from his and let it fail in her lap. "Under the circumstances, I'm sure you're right."

  "Lilah–"

  "What?"

  No, he decided. He needed to do this his way. "Nothing." Reaching for the keys, he switched on the ignition.

  They didn't speak on the way home. Max continued to convince himself that lying to her was the best way. Maybe she was miffed because he'd put off the drive, but he'd make it up to her. He just had to keep out of her way until he'd handled a few details. In any case his mind was crowded with possibilities that he needed time and space to work through. If Caufield and Hawkins were both still on the island, both of them bold enough to stroll through the village, did that mean they had found something useful in the papers? Were they still looking? Had they, as he had, dipped into the resources at the library to find out more?

  They knew he was alive now. Would they manage to connect him with the Calhouns? If they considered him a liability, would his relationship with Lilah put her in danger?

  That was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

  He turned up the winding road that brought the peak of The Towers into view.

  "I may have to go back to New York sooner than I expected," he said, thinking out loud.

  To keep from protesting, she pressed her lips tight. "Really?"

  He glanced over, cleared his throat. "Yes...ah, business. I could continue to do my research from there."

  "That's very considerate of you, Professor. I'm sure you'd hate to leave a job half–done. And you wouldn't have any awkward relationships to interfere."

  His mind was already focused on what needed to be done, and he made an absent sound of agreement.

  By the time they pulled up at The Towers, Lilah had managed to turn the hurt into anger. He didn't want to be with her, and by his attitude it was plain he regretted that they'd ever been together. Fine. She wasn't about to sit around and sulk because some highbrow college professor wasn't interested in her.

  She resisted slamming the car door, barely resisted biting his hand off at the wrist when he set it on her shoulder. "Maybe we can drive down the coast tomorrow."

  She glanced at his hand, then at his face. "Don't hold your breath."

  He jammed his hands into his pockets as she strolled up the steps. Definitely miffed, he thought.

  By the time he had relayed his information to the other men and had fought his way through the pecking order at the police station, he really was tired. It might have been tension or the fact that he'd only had a couple hours' sleep the night before, but he gave in, stretched across his bed and tuned out until dinner.

  Feeling better, he wandered downstairs. He thought about finding Lilah, asking her to walk in the gardens after the meal. Or maybe they'd take a drive after all, in the moonlight. It hadn't been a very big lie, and now that he'd unburdened himself to the police, he wouldn't have to dwell on it. In any case, if he decided it was best to leave, he might not have another evening with her.

  Yes, a drive. Maybe he could ask her if she'd consider visiting him in New York–or just going away for a weekend somewhere. It didn't have to end, not if he started taking those careful steps.

  He strolled into the parlor, found it empty and strolled out again. Just the two of them, watching the moon on the water, maybe pulling over to walk along the beach. He could begin to court her properly. He imagined she'd be amused by the term, but it was what he wanted to do.

  He followed the sound of a piano into the music room. Suzanna was alone, playing for herself. The music seemed to match the expression in her eyes. There was a sadness in them, too deep for anyone else to feel. But when she saw him, she stopped and smiled.

  "I didn't mean to interrupt."

  "That's all right. It's time to get back to' the real world anyway. Amanda took the kids into town so I was taking advantage of the lull."

  "I was just looking for Lilah."

  "Oh, she's gone."

  "Gone?"

  Suzanna was pushing back from the piano when Max barked the word and had her rising slowly. "Yes, she went out"

  "Where? When?"

  "Just a little while ago." Sazann
a studied him as she crossed the room. "I think she had a date."

  "A–a date?" He felt as though someone had just swung a sledgehammer into his solar plexus.

  "I'm sorry, Max." Concerned, she laid a comforting hand on his. She didn't think she'd ever seen a man more miserably in love. "I didn't realize. She may have just gone out to meet friends, or to be by herself."

  No, he thought, shaking his head. That would be worse. If she was alone, and Caufield was anywhere close... He shook off the panic. It wasn't Lilah the man was after, but the emeralds.

  "It's all right, I only wanted to talk to her about something."

  "Does she know how you feel?"

  "No–yes. I don't know," he said lamely. He saw his romantic dreams about moonlight and courtship go up in smoke. "It doesn't matter."

  "It would to her. Lilah doesn't take people or their feelings lightly, Max."

  No strings, he thought. No trapdoors. Well, he'd already fallen through the trapdoor, and his feelings were the noose around his neck. But that wasn't the point. "I'm just concerned about her going out alone. The police haven't caught Hawkins or Caufield yet."

  "She went out to dinner. I can't see anyone popping up in a restaurant and demanding emeralds she doesn't have." Suzanna gave his hand a friendly squeeze. "Come on, you'll feel better when you've eaten. Aunt Coco's lemon chicken should be about ready."

  He sat through dinner, struggling to pretend that he had an appetite, that the empty place at the table didn't bother him. He discussed the progress of the servant's list with Amanda, dodged Coco's request to read his cards and felt generally miserable. Fred, sitting on his left foot, benefited from his mood by gobbling up the morsels of chicken Max slipped to him.

  He considered driving into town, casually cruising, stopping at a few clubs and restaurants. But decided that would make him look like as a big a jerk as he felt. In the end he retreated to his room and lost himself in his book.

  The story didn't come as easily as it had the night before. Now it was mostly fits and starts with a lot of long pauses. Still he found even the pauses constructive as an hour passed into two, and two into three. It wasn't until he glanced at his watch and saw it was after midnight that he realized he hadn't heard Lilah come home. He'd deliberately left his door ajar so that he would know when she passed down the hall.