Can't Say No

by Sherryl Woods

  A thumb found the hard masculine nipple buried in a whorl of hair and stroked until Blake uttered a low groan. Then she sought out its mate and repeated the process until he was trembling beneath her touch. Her hands moved on, over his flat, taut belly, to the waistband of his khaki shorts. She hesitated at the snap and could feel Blake tense in anticipation. A faint smile formed on her lips and then she kept going, carefully, consciously avoiding the hard evidence of his arousal. He closed his eyes and moaned.

  “Are you trying to torture me?”

  As a response, she kissed the inside of his thighs, then each knee, as her nails raked along a similar path in a lightly teasing gesture.

  “You are trying to torture me,” he said in a raw-edged voice.

  “I want to give everything to you. I want you to feel everything,” she whispered.

  “If I feel much more, we won’t leave this bed for a month. Come back up here, where I can share it with you.”

  “Not yet. There’s this one little place I haven’t kissed yet.” She ran her tongue along the arch of his foot. “And here’s one more.” Murmuring seductive little comments as she went, she worked her way back up his body until she could feel the coil of tension in his muscles, feel the heat radiating from him, see the sheen of perspiration forming on his chest.

  “Enough,” he finally growled, turning her onto her back as he reached for the promised protection. Probing fingers caressed her moistness, building a new sweet tension in her. He poised on his knees over her, gazed into her eyes with a look that hinted of heaven. Then with a quick stroke, he was deep inside her, filling her, taking all the love she had to give.

  He lifted her hips, penetrating more deeply in a slow mating that sent her senses reeling. She writhed under him, needing him, drawing him in, seeking the wild torrent of feelings that would split her apart. With each deep thrust, each touch of her swollen breasts, he carried her to the edge of ecstasy.

  And each time she held a part of herself back, wouldn’t let herself spin free into that whirlpool of sensations, couldn’t give in to the shattering intimacy, the ultimate giving. There was wildness, but no abandon. She was digging her nails into his back, willing herself to let go, but it wouldn’t happen. The peak was out there, just beyond her reach.

  When Blake exploded inside her at last, her name a harsh cry on his lips, she felt an instant’s joy at his pleasure, then an awful, numbing emptiness. She went perfectly still beneath him and turned her head into the pillow, trying to hide the tears of anger and frustration that came with the discovery that after Derek, she was incapable of loving, of sharing in the bliss.

  After several minutes, she sensed that Blake was watching her. She met his troubled gaze, then glanced away, feeling an incredible, overwhelming guilt.

  “This wasn’t good for you, was it?” he said softly, his fingers tracing the dampness on her cheeks. The wistful, lost look in her eyes tore at his insides. How could something that had brought him so much pleasure leave her looking so terribly alone?

  “Yes. It was wonderful.”

  She said it valiantly, but she couldn’t keep her lips from trembling. The facade scared him more than her tears. It was the beginning of a wall, a wall that could only go higher unless he battered it down now.

  “Sssh.” He pressed a finger against her mouth to prevent another denial. “No lies, Audrey. There will never be any lies between us, not even the tiny white ones meant to protect.”

  She pulled herself free from his embrace and clutched a pillow in front of her. She held it tightly, as though it were all she had in the world to cling to. Hold me like that, he wanted to shout. Share this with me, whatever it is. Explain your pain.

  But he sensed she couldn’t—yet. With the intuition of a man in love and just beginning to understand the intricacies of his beloved’s mind, he knew there were ghosts in this bed with them. What he didn’t know was how to exorcise them.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I rushed you into this.”

  She lifted her chin and he grinned at the sign of stubbornness. “That’s very gallant, but I’m the one who dragged you back here, remember.”

  “I could have said no.”

  His words brought on a tentative smile. “Don’t tell me my bad habits are rubbing off on you.”

  “That, my love, is not the point. I should have realized it was too soon. No matter what my feelings are for you and what I think yours are or will be for me, trust comes less quickly. You still have some scars and only time and trust are going to erase them. Making love is the ultimate test of trust.”

  She bit her lip, then gazed at him through half-lowered lashes. “Do we have time?”

  “What kind of a question is that?”

  “I mean after what happened...” Her voice trailed off uneasily.

  “Don’t you ever dare be ashamed or embarrassed by what happened tonight. We made love in every sense of the word. You and me.”

  “But I didn’t...I couldn’t...”

  “You will,” he reassured her, sliding his arms around her. He buried his lips in her hair and sighed. “I believe that with all my heart. You seem to think this was all your fault, but it wasn’t. It was mine for pushing you into something before you were ready, for not taking more time with you. That won’t happen again. I’ve told you before and I meant every word: we have all the time in the world to find our way together.”

  He could feel the tension ease out of her as she relaxed in his embrace. Slowly, the knot in his own stomach came untied and he felt hope stir again.

  “Now, I have a plan,” he announced before the reality sank in that he was holding the woman he was crazy about naked in his arms. That would change his plan dramatically and wouldn’t be wise at all. She clearly viewed tonight as some sort of failure, and he had no intention of setting her up for another one.

  “If we hurry,” he said, “we can pick up some food and go over to the music tent. I saw the schedule earlier and it’s a jazz concert.”

  “We don’t have tickets.”

  “I’m sure we could get them, but for what I have in mind, we won’t need them.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what do you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking we should keep up with our family tradition.”

  “Family? Tradition? We haven’t known each other that long.”

  “Ah, but the very best traditions can get started in no time.”

  “And what exactly is this tradition of ours?”

  “A picnic under the stars, of course.”

  “Do you have something in particular against the food in restaurants?”

  “Not at all. Many restaurants have very fine chefs. I always get them to pack my picnics.”

  Laughter bubbled up and that haunted look left Audrey’s eyes at last. “I see. It’s the confinement you don’t like. Walls, ceilings, things that keep out wind and rain.”

  “And stars,” he noted. “Don’t forget they also keep out stars and breezes and the scent of pine. Now, you just think about that, while I take my shower and get dressed. Then I’ll go find us the best meal in Aspen, while you get ready.”

  Filled with renewed energy, he jumped out of the rumpled bed and headed for the shower, just as Audrey inquired with an unexpected edge of irritation, “Is there any point in my arguing?”

  He stopped just inside the bathroom and stared back at her, puzzled by the hint of exasperation he’d heard. “Do you want to?”

  She chuckled then and threw up her hands in a gesture of resignation. “I suppose not. It was just token resistance. Sometimes this assertiveness kick of mine gets out of control.”

  “You can practice on me all you like, just be sure to give me a clue when you’re really serious. I’d hate to have you slam me over the head with a bottle of my cabernet sauvignon, just because we got our signals crossed.”

  “Unfortunately, sometimes I’m not so sure myself. I’ll have to work on that. It’d be a shame to tell you no, w
hen I mean yes.”

  “You’ve got that right,” he said, grinning wickedly. He closed the bathroom door, then opened it again. “Care to join me in the shower?”

  “And miss this gourmet picnic?”

  “Right. Priorities are important. Picnic first, a togetherness shower later.” He winked at her. “Count on it.”

  Eleven

  “This isn’t like any picnic I ever saw,” Audrey said as she pulled two outrageously expensive, fine bone china plates from a picnic hamper that was so cumbersome and heavy that even Blake had struggled to carry it from the car.

  After carefully depositing the plates on the blanket, she held up a fork and examined it in the mauve shadows of twilight. “Sterling silver, huh? Whatever happened to plastic?”

  “Tacky.” Blake wrinkled his nose.

  “But disposable.”

  “Chef Luis would faint at the prospect of his food being eaten with plastic utensils, even though I’m sure the main course will be so tender it wouldn’t matter.”

  Audrey shook her head, then drew a crystal goblet from the basket and stared at him in dismay. “Waterford? Blake, do you have any idea how expensive this is? It’s breakable, too.”

  “That only matters, if we decide to throw it against a tree to solemnize a toast.” He grinned at her suggestively. “Do you have one in mind?”

  She rolled her eyes at his audacity. “Doesn’t money mean anything to you?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Does it to you?” His words were weighty with significance.

  She shot him an indignant look. “Of course not. I meant the opposite. Why are you wasting it on fancy frills like this?”

  “A frill is something superfluous,” he protested. “I don’t consider serving you an elegant meal in a lovely setting a waste of my money. You deserve to be treated like a lady. You will have nothing but the best to show you how much I care about you.”

  Her eyes grew misty as Blake’s words flooded her with warmth. It was such a contrast to the past, when she’d been doing all the giving. Perhaps it was time she learned to accept things graciously.

  Blake must have sensed she was about to burst into tears, because he said briskly, “Now stop grumbling before the food gets cold. Chef Luis gets very testy, if his meals aren’t served properly. It ruins the subtle bouquet of the spices or something.”

  “What kind of food does this chef of yours prepare that it has to be treated so gingerly?”

  “Mexican,” he said, opening a container of guacamole salad and waving it under her nose.

  “Mexican?” she repeated incredulously. “You can get good Mexican at a fast food place with paper plates and plastic forks.”

  “Not as good as this, I guarantee you.” He lifted the foil off a container of beef burritos, smothered in picante sauce and sour cream. “See what I mean.”

  The minute the aroma reached her nose, Audrey’s mouth watered and she stretched out a hand. Blake brushed it aside. “Oh, no, you don’t. Hand me one of those plates. You are not eating this out of the pan.”

  “Old habits die hard,” she retorted. “I swear to you it will taste just as good and I won’t be terrified of chipping it and costing myself two months salary.”

  Blake held the burritos just beyond her reach. “Do we need to have a serious talk about money? You seem hung up about it.”

  “Mine,” she asserted. “Not yours. You can have all you want. I don’t happen to have as much.”

  “Then let me spend mine in a way that pleases me. I will gladly pay for any plates you chip.”

  Before she could come back with a retort, he popped a forkful of the burrito into her mouth. Any temptation she might have felt to spit it back out in a gesture of protest died the moment the spicy flavorings hit her tongue. Yes, it was definitely time to accept things graciously. The shredded beef had just the right combination of cumin, onions and garlic. There was a sharp bite to the picante sauce and the sour cream provided a cooling contrast. It was heavenly and it didn’t matter a hoot anymore that she was eating it with silver so elegant it could have been on the table for a formal state dinner at the White House.

  “Wonderful,” she murmured, cautiously accepting the china plate from Blake.

  He nodded in satisfaction. “I think I’ve found one way to shut you up,” he said.

  “I didn’t know that was one of your goals.”

  “It only crosses my mind when you go into one of your stubborn acts. Food and kissing seem to be effective counterattacks,” he said, then peered at her thoughtfully. “I wonder if there are any others. I may need a more complete arsenal over the years.”

  Over the years. Nice phrase, she thought, as her pulse skipped happily. But then Blake was a sensitive man. If she’d doubted it when they met, she certainly didn’t now, not after what he’d done for her tonight.

  Not once since they left the motel had he mentioned what had happened between them in that room. Not once had he been anything but kind and gentle after she had withheld that final gift of herself. Perhaps it had been at that moment, when she had been sitting naked and shivering and embarrassed and he had apologized to her, perhaps it had been then that she had truly fallen in love. Dear heaven, let him be as patient as he was caring!

  He tapped the edge of her plate with his fork to get her attention. “You’re not eating.”

  “I guess my mind wandered.”

  His eyes narrowed and he touched her chin. “No unhappy thoughts tonight. Promise?”

  He’d done it again. He’d read her mind and tried to take away the hurt. Audrey blinked back a fresh batch of tears. She gave him a faltering smile. “Promise.”

  The whispered word was virtually drowned out by a crescendo of sound from the music tent. As night fell, trumpets and saxophones and, astonishingly enough from a jazz band, violins filled the air with a joyous, lively beat that had her tapping her toes. Haunting melodies followed, then intricate pieces with solos that were wild and uninhibited.

  Lying back on their blanket, the stars bright above them, the aspens whispering in the breeze, Audrey was utterly at peace, lost in the music. Each song affected her in a different way, lifting her up, taking her down, playing her heart like one of the orchestra’s instruments. It was the clear, high, rippling notes of a flute, rising over a background of subtle rhythms, that made her tremble so that Blake pulled her into his arms and held her tight. When the concert ended, she felt drained and deliriously happy all at once.

  “That was wonderful,” she said with a sigh.

  Oblivious to the people pouring from the music tent, Blake lowered his face to hers and kissed her, a slow, lingering, tender kiss that made music soar again, this time deep inside.

  “I love watching you,” he said, gazing down into her eyes. “I think that’s what I first noticed about you, the delight you take in everything. It’s like watching a child when he first becomes aware of the world around him. Every discovery brings such amazement. Don’t ever change. Don’t become jaded and cynical.”

  “Have you known a lot of cynical women?”

  “Too many. They live too fast, get hurt too often and pretty soon they’re hard or pretending to be. Sometimes it scares me that you might be trying to do the same thing, to protect yourself from another hurt.”

  “No one likes to be hurt,” she said defensively.

  “No, but there are better ways of handling it than shutting yourself off from the world. In the long run that’s the greatest hurt you can suffer. Taking chances may bring you pain, but it’s also the only way you’ll ever find real happiness.”

  His hand ran along the curve of her hip and lingered on her thigh. For Blake it seemed a casual, almost unconscious gesture, but it stirred Audrey’s blood again.

  “Enough philosophizing for tonight,” he said. “Let’s get you back to your motel. I have another competition in the morning.”

  “I suppose it’s at dawn again.”

  He grinned. “Absolutely. Do you plan to be there?
”

  “That all depends.”

  “On what?”

  She took a deep breath and said, “Whether you plan to stay tonight to make sure I wake up.”

  He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, when he responded. “I saw all those clocks in your room. If those can’t get you out of bed, nothing I can do will budge you.”

  Audrey’s heart slowed, then practically came to a halt. “You’re not staying?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, don’t look like that,” he whispered, cupping her face in his strong, gentle hands. “It’s not because I don’t want to be with you. I just don’t want to put you under any more pressure. Let’s give this some more time. I want you to be sure that it’s really me you want and not the challenge I represent. I want you to trust me.”

  “But I do,” she protested.

  “Not enough. A part of you still fears I’m going to control you. That’s why you were so afraid to let go tonight. I think you felt you’d be losing yourself to me. I have to convince you that will never happen. I love the woman you are, including those traits that you see as weakness. I see them as compassion and generosity.”

  She shook her head. “There’s a very fine line between giving and being taken advantage of. I learned that the hard way.”

  “Let me ask you this. When you do something for a friend does it make you feel good inside, whether you get something back or not?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then it couldn’t be so wrong, could it? When you did things for this Derek, what was your motivation?”

  “To show him how much I loved him.”

  “Then what was so terrible about that?”

  “He hated me for it. He thought I was weak. He wanted somebody stronger.”

  Blake winced at her bitterness. “He was a fool. Loving someone, caring what happens to them, being generous with your time and your affection and asking nothing in return makes you a very special person. There are always going to be users in the world, people who’ll take advantage of someone like you. They’re the ones who need to be ashamed, not you.”