When Tomorrow Comes

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When Tomorrow Comes Page 6

by Lindsay McKenna


  She sifted the sand through her fingers, perplexed, yet compelled to explore him further. “Is there anyone you can go to, confide in?”

  His mouth tightened and his stance grew rigid as he stared out at the Rio Colorado. “No.”

  She folded her hands against her knees, sensing his withdrawal. “Is—is that why you were angry with me the other night when we came back from BA?”

  “Angry?” His hands fell from his hips and he turned to look down at her upturned face. “No,” he said gently, “I wasn’t angry. Maybe…” he shrugged. “Jealous, perhaps.”

  “You, jealous?”

  “I envy your ability to be warm and open. It’s obvious that Louie loves you dearly, as you do him. It’s touching to see that sort of relationship.”

  Shivering at the caressing purr in his voice, Cait murmured, “Anyone can have friends. Good friends, who are like family to you.”

  He smiled grimly. “You are naive after all,” he teased.

  Cait bristled, getting to her feet. “At twenty-nine, I’m hardly naive!”

  His mouth curved absently. “I’m beginning to see a side to you that is and always will be a child. Now, that’s not an insult, so don’t get upset.”

  She stood only inches from him, her anger receding quickly within his magnetic presence. His expression grew serious, and he reached out, stroking her flushed cheek where tendrils of loosened hair had curled in the humidity. She quivered at his touch.

  “Did you know you’re like that lagoon over there?” he whispered huskily, his thumb tracing her jawline.

  “I love to watch your face when you get excited or upset. It’s so transparent, so incredible.”

  Cait closed her eyes as he traced a trail of fire with his thumb. Her heart beat erratically while his fingers caressed the curve of her neck, resting finally on her shoulder.

  “Every ripple, every emotion is like a pebble thrown into the water. You mirror each feeling. You’re like a peaceful pool in tune with everything around you.” He studied her intently, staring at her parted full lips. Reluctantly he removed his hand from her shoulder. “I promised to be on my best behavior with you, so we’d better get back, or I won’t be held accountable.” He made a half turn, gesturing around the bay. “Consider Bahia Linda yours, Cait, and come here whenever you want to. This is a place to dream of the past and the future, a healing place.”

  She had barely breathed during the past few seconds, acutely aware of where his hand had been. Somehow she found her voice, slightly husky with breathlessness. “Why not wish for things in the present?”

  He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “That’s not a bad idea, either. Never think about the past, because it’s gone. The future is nothing more than tomorrow’s present.”

  She shook her head, savoring his closeness and his male scent. “We make our future “by working in the present.”

  His smile disappeared, and a molten gold came to his eyes as he regarded her slender figure. “I’ve never been so aware of the present as I am this moment,” he murmured.

  A thrill of joy burst within her, but she could only nod mutely, lost within his warming look.

  They walked back in a shared silence. She was acutely aware of the closeness of his male body, the immense power that seemed to be held in tight control. Her thoughts turned back to their last moments of conversation. He had stood like a bulwark of solitude. She wanted to reach out to him, to share some of that undefinable weight of responsibility he seemed to carry.

  Chapter Six

  It was close to midnight before Cait finished the report she was working on and went to bed. Dominic and Louie were working late, too, but they’d promised to wake her if they discovered anything important.

  She slept restlessly, dreaming of Dominic. She had sensed a new eagerness in him to share with her. In her dream, they were at Bahia Linda, and she was walking happily along the beach by his side. The balm of peace drove her into a deeper, more restful phase of sleep, and she saw herself sitting on the beach alone, warming in the rays of the sun.

  A familiar voice began calling her. Her heart began to thump wildly, and suddenly she found herself back on the drilling platform. She groaned, tossing restlessly. She didn’t want to be back on that gas rig. Dave and his crew were working down below. The crane boom swung a load of steel I-beams lazily through the air, toward the center of the new platform.

  Cait whimpered, feeling her hands grow moist with perspiration. A black tidal wave of fear engulfed her seconds before the crane cable snapped. She stood paralyzed, watching the tons of steel begin to fall. She wanted to shout, to warn them. My God!

  Chaos was everywhere! Men on the platform bellowing orders…her anguished voice…the trapped men shrieking among the wreckage. She tried to get closer, but hands closed firmly around her arms, pulling her back.

  “No…let me go…Dave! Help—”

  “Cait! Wake up!”

  Her voice was raw, gutted with pain, as she suddenly awakened from the clutches of the nightmare. Her breath came in sharp sobs, her hair swirling in wild disarray around her tear-stained cheeks. Dominic’s face loomed before her, and she gave a small whimper of relief as his arms slid around her in a tentative embrace. She trembled within his grasp, burying her head against his shoulder, crying wildly as scattered images began to dissolve into the recesses of her memory.

  “Shh,” he soothed, stroking her hair with a gentle motion. “It’s all right, querida. Shh, it’s all over. No more nightmares. That’s it, relax, you’re safe…”

  His voice, healing balm to her frayed emotions, assuaged her pain. She clutched tightly at his shirtfront, her tears thoroughly wetting the rough fabric. It seemed forever until she could rest, quiet and subdued, against his strong, supportive body. Gradually she became aware of his fingers stroking her unbound hair, and she opened her eyes, releasing a long sigh.

  The strong beat of his heart was slow, rhythmic and even, not wildly thumping like her own. Gradually she felt him relaxing, pulling her deeper into his arms. He held her tightly as she continued to tremble.

  His hand trailed down the flowing length of her hair, sliding onto the apricot gown and coming to rest near her waist.

  Cait became aware of the altered pressure of his fingers as he gently began to massage her tightly corded back muscles. A feeling of utter warmth flowed through her with each ministration, and she lay silently against him, her eyes still tightly shut. A new sensation, more electrifying and disturbing, coursed through her, and she felt Dominic respond almost immediately. His work-roughened hand slid around her torso, caressing the side of her breast and then moving downward, following the natural curve of her flat stomach and rounded hip. His breath became ragged, and Cait listened as the tempo of his heart leaped upward with the pulsing of her own.

  Guilelessly, she strained against his hard chest, mindlessly following her unconscious need. A new ache throbbed through her, and she gave a moan of pleasure as his hand once again caressed her breast. The skin grew taut, crying to be touched and tamed beneath his demanding fingers.

  Cait heard him groan and felt his hands closing about her arms, moving her away from the security of his body. “No,” she heard him growl softly. “Not this way, Cait…not now.”

  Hurt and rejection filled her as she looked up into his mobile features. The gray dawn softened the harsh lines of his face, and he tilted his head, silently studying her. The fiery gold of his eyes spoke of his desire, of the hunger that was becoming overwhelming, that only she could satisfy. He swore softly.

  “I’ve never had to take care of a woman who was genuinely hurt. I don’t think it’s right to take advantage of a situation—” He shook his head, his fingers trailing across her wet cheeks. “You’re like a lost child…so damn vulnerable…hurting…” His voice dropped into a husky whisper as he pulled her back into his arms, cradling her head against his neck and jaw. His arms tightened about her momentarily, and he brushed her damp forehead with a kiss. “I though
t I knew everything there was to know about women.” He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “At thirty-five, it’s disconcerting as hell to realize I don’t.”

  The remnants of her nightmare were gradually evaporating. She clung wordlessly to him, not understanding much of what he said but responding to the timbre of his raw voice. She shivered, acutely aware of the honesty and care in his tone. It said so much more than the actual words. A flicker of hope flared within her, and she sat up, reaching out to touch his unshaven face.

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” she murmured brokenly. “You have no idea how happy I am you came.”

  “It was sheer luck that I did come,” he told her.

  Dazed by the nightmare, Cait looked groggily around. “What time is it?”

  “Five-thirty.”

  She pulled her hand free and rubbed her face wearily. “God, did you hear me screaming, clear from the offices?”

  His voice was softened. “No. Louie sent me over to get you. I guess I came right in the middle of it. When I pulled up outside your quarters and heard your screams, I thought someone was attacking you. I came barging in here and found you in a tangle of sheets and blankets.”

  She let her hands drop in her lap and licked her dry, chapped lips. “Do me a favor?”

  “Name it.”

  “Make me some coffee.”

  “Will you be all right here by yourself?”

  “Yes. No.” Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands.

  “Take your time,” he coaxed huskily.

  Just the light touch of his hand sliding down the length of her hair calmed the uncontrolled fear still raging within her. Her hands shook slightly when she tried to wipe away the cascading tears. When had she ever cried so much? Or had she been holding the tears in all this time and never known it…not until now?

  Dominic slipped a fresh Kleenex into her hands, and she mumbled her thanks, dabbing at her eyes. She sat with her shoulders hunched forward, head hanging down, dark sheets of hair hiding her tortured face. How could she explain something so personal and painful to him? Yet she knew he was already helping her. There was no questioning look in his glance—only acceptance of her pain.

  “I’m sorry, Dominic.”

  “For what? Being human doesn’t require an apology, querida.” A tender flame burned in his golden eyes as he watched her gravely. “You’re teaching me something of great value. Maybe sharing pain is best.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered hoarsely.

  His hand slid along her shoulder in a kneading motion. “How about that coffee now?”

  She nodded, sniffling and then blowing her nose.

  She felt his weight lift from the bed.

  Cait got up, too, and dressed in slow, uncoordinated movements. The familiar sounds of coffee perking and boots sounding on the uncarpeted floor made her feel better. Running a brush through her long hair, she finally joined him in the other room. He was standing by the heating element, his arms crossed, his expression grim.

  She busied herself wiping the two ceramic mugs free of the perpetual dust and set them on the makeshift table fashioned from surplus lumber. He was watching her closely, but this time his gaze did not irritate her.

  “Do you get those nightmares often?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She sat down on one of the stools and motioned for him to join her after he poured the coffee. Trying to ignore the growing tension between them, she concentrated on putting sugar and powdered milk into her cup.

  “Maybe…” She sounded peevish. Frowning, she took a sip and set the cup down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so damn crabby.”

  “It’s understandable.” His voice was coaxing, soothing. “You’re still working through the trauma, Cait.”

  An invisible anvil of grief descended upon her heart, and she sighed heavily, staring down at the cup. Her lower lip trembled, and she tucked it between her teeth, fighting off another wave of tears. “Oh, God…I wish the dreams would end! I don’t understand why I still get them. It’s been over a year…” She closed her eyes for a moment and caressed the cup in a slow motion. She faltered, giving Dominic a vulnerable, helpless look. “Why am I sitting here telling you all this? You don’t need to know my personal problems. You have enough of your own here on the site without adding mine to the list.”

  He smiled wryly. “I don’t mind. I usually handle my emotions by ignoring them, but that doesn’t really work. I like your way of dealing with them better. That’s why, if you feel like it, you should talk this thing out. Maybe it would make the nightmares go away.”

  “It’s funny,” she murmured. “I’ve never talked about this to anyone. Not even Louie.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “After I married Dave…” She swallowed hard, her eyes glittering with pent-up tears. “We hop-scotched around the Far East, setting up gas drilling platforms and laying pipe.”

  “Did you enjoy that kind of life?” he probed.

  “Very much.” Her face took on a more animated quality. “Every platform was a new challenge, and we worked well as a team.” Her voice took on a dreamier tone, and her face, a faraway look. She almost forgot he was listening.

  “Dave had a knack for the technical problems, and I was good at scheduling. Brentworth would throw us the deadbeat platforms that were behind, and we’d work out a plan on how to get them back on their feet and in on time. It was a big game, and we had so much fun.” “Dave taught me that a good sense of humor is like a plating of armor.” Her emerald eyes cleared as she looked at him. She whispered, “God, I need a sense of humor now, more than ever.”

  “Everyone should allow himself a few moments of peace and laughter. I don’t think you’ve spent your quota on yourself, so go ahead and use them up.”

  “You sound like Louie, dammit.” She was suddenly angry.

  “He’s a wise man.”

  “And I suppose you follow his advice?” she returned acidly.

  Dominic smiled patiently. “No. But let’s just say that between you and his wisdom, I’m learning a lot of new and helpful ways to vent my buried frustration and anger. You’re teaching me, and I’m grateful for the experience, although”—” he reached out to squeeze her hand “—”I would never wish you any pain like what I’m seeing you go through. Dios, it tears me up…”

  Cait felt her anger dissipate with the pressure of his fingers against her own. She was at a loss for words, and, hearing the searching, questioning” tone of his voice, it struck her that he had probably never known a woman like herself, someone who openly shared her feelings and emotions.

  “What you need, Cait, is to take some time off from this site and relax,” Dominic continued. “Louie told me you’ve been pushing hard ever since your husband’s death. Even I know you can’t run from grief. It has to be faced squarely. The sooner the better.”

  She got up, a troubled frown on her brow. “Relax and do what?”

  “There’s a world out there that I think you’d enjoy.” He stood up, too, and put his cup over by the heating element. “Sometime, when you’re ready, I’ll take you to BA and show you a city of great beauty. Is it a deal?”

  She chewed on her lower lip, watching him through her lashes. She wanted to tell him how much she owed him. She had not forgotten the strength of his arms around her as she had sobbed out her grief and pain. But a small fear kept nagging at her, and she couldn’t understand the feeling. “I’ll think about it,” she promised softly. “We’d better get over to the records office, or Louie will think we’ve gotten lost.”

  Before they left the truck to go into the records trailer, Cait reached out. It was the first time she had deliberately touched his arm, and she felt the warmth and hardness of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

  “Thanks,” she said in a hushed tone. “For being there.”

  “I’ll be there again if you need me, Cait. Just remember that.”

  Louie looked up as they entered the trailer. His gaze s
ettled on Cait, and his frown deepened. “You look like hell.”

  “Go easy on her,” Dominic warned, a growl in his voice.

  Cait’s eyes widened briefly. For the second time in twelve months she felt she had a protector. She patted Louie on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Louie. Dominic had the misfortune of walking in when I was having my usual nightmare.”

  “You okay, darlin’?”

  “Yes, fine. He makes a good cup of coffee. Did you know that?”

  Louie grinned. “I knew Tobbar was good for something. You feel up to all this, or not?”

  Cait sat down opposite Louie and watched Dominic pull up another chair. “I have to be. Did you two stay up all night?”

  “Don’t we look it, Rose?”

  “No. I look worse than both of you combined, and I supposedly got some sleep.” She laughed.

  The controller made a face and laid eleven bills of lading out neatly in front of her. “This problem is much larger than we anticipated, darlin’. Not only are some of the materials not reaching the site, but what is reaching the site is being over billed.”

  “Such as?”

  “Dom was kind enough to prowl around early this morning and do some weighing and counting for me—petrol levels, acetylene, and about eight other assorted items. He counted what we really have, against what we supposedly received and used. In every instance, there was less than what was tallied on the storekeeper’s inventory sheets.”

  Cait pressed her lips together. “So what’s your final analysis, Louie?”

  “To keep this kind of systematic kickback going, someone needs to keep a very good set of records. Our friend Cirre has probably got another set of books with the real figures. Do you see the implications of all this?”

  She sought Dominic’s face and saw his agreement. “What kind of money are we talking so far, Louie?”

  “If these eleven items are projected over the previous year, I would say at least six hundred thousand dollars. Is that enough to take to BA with you in your report?”

  The pit of her stomach knotted. “Damn,” Cait whispered. She gritted her teeth at the thought of the long-range implications. How could Hank Parker let something like this go undetected? Or—she gasped, turning to Louie. “You aren’t saying Campos covered this whole thing up, are you?”

 

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