Blue Clouds

by Patricia Rice

  Summoning the image of Pippa’s cheerful smile, her upbeat attitude, her lilting laughter, he couldn’t see how anyone could want to harm her. But then, he couldn’t see how child abusers did what they did either. He’d grown up neglected, thrust out of his parents’ life by their war with each other, but he’d never been abused by people he trusted. Of course, he didn’t trust many people, and he’d taken a hell of a beating from the rest of the world, but it wasn’t the same. Pippa trusted everyone, never hurt a soul. How could anyone even dream of harming her?

  But someone had. She’d been bruised and battered the day she arrived. She still wore the scars inside her. She hid them well, but her wariness when he got too close served as warning. She wasn’t afraid of him in particular. She was afraid of reaching out to any man. He couldn’t blame her.

  So the best thing for him to do right now was go on up to bed, where he belonged. They had no place in each other’s lives. He didn’t need the complications of a woman. She didn’t need the pain he would inevitably bring her. He was a mature, sensible man, not a case of raging adolescent lust.

  He turned down the hall toward Pippa’s wing of the house.

  She answered the instant he tapped on her door, as if she’d been waiting up for him. That possibility knocked the breath and any remaining sense out of him.

  She’d removed her makeup, revealing dark circles beneath long-lashed eyes. Instead of making her look washed out as it would many women, the lack of cosmetics created the image of a forlorn waif, with translucent skin and huge eyes. She’d been running her fingers through her thick hair, and the auburn layers had fallen haphazardly. With only a circle of lamplight in the background, she looked tousled and sleepy, and Seth had the urge to bury his fingers in the satin strands of her hair and lead her to bed. The wariness in her expression stopped him.

  “Is there something wrong with Chad?” she immediately asked, although she must have known he’d be hollering at her through the intercom from Chad’s bedside if there were.

  “He’s sleeping. The doctor says he can get up and take mild exercise tomorrow. May I come in?” He could see Pippa struggling with herself now, and he didn’t push. Whatever this frail thing was that had developed between them couldn’t take the pressure of his usual carelessness. He was walking on eggshells here. He didn’t know why he was trying so hard with this woman, but for some reason, she seemed worth the effort.

  “You were late coming home. I wanted to make certain everything was all right.”

  She didn’t even attempt to hide her relief. He figured he should be insulted that she accepted his offer of conversation more willingly than an offer of sex, but oddly enough, he understood. Conversation offered no ties that bound. Sex—with Pippa anyway—offered more strings and knots than either of them could afford.

  She opened the door completely and Seth wandered into the room she’d made her own. It had once been bland and obviously professionally decorated. Now a handmade quilt splashed hues of gold and brown across the neutral tones of the couch, a handful of wildflowers spilled from a pottery vase he didn’t recall seeing before, and colorful paperback books lay scattered across the tables. Framed color snapshots of family and friends cluttered the bookshelves. They must have been in those boxes she’d picked up at the bus station. Fascinated, Seth drifted in their direction. The only family photos he possessed were ones taken by professional photographers at his mother’s insistence. He’d probably been twelve when the last one was taken.

  The first one he picked up showed a cheerful, plump woman with Pippa’s rounded cheeks surrounded by three equally smiling children. The youngest child had big round thick-lashed eyes that would have broken the most hardened of hearts. He studied the charming image of a toddler Pippa with a dangerous tug at a place below his rib cage. He could imagine her having children who looked just like this.

  “That’s my mom,” she said matter-of-factly, as if there were no one else of importance in the picture. “I don’t have anything in here to offer you to drink. Should I find something?”

  “No, I’m high on coffee right now.” He gently set the picture down and swung around. “Liquor and you is too dangerous a combination. What happened tonight?”

  She offered a fleeting smile and shrugged. Pushing her hair behind her ear, she wandered toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Pippa had a penchant for windows, he’d noticed. She also had the balcony doors open. Good thing they lived on top of a mountain. That would be a dangerous practice in town.

  Seth followed her, unable to help himself. He hated clichés, but she drew him like a moth to flame. Or a moth to a spotlight, he thought dryly. She lit the room just as effectively. He wanted to brush his fingers against the soft skin of her cheek. He craved her softness and the shining beacon of her smile. But he didn’t deserve it. He, of all people, knew that.

  “Doug caught Billy creeping around Meg’s house.”

  Her calm declaration brought him abruptly back to the moment.

  “The hell he did!” That was a helpful reaction. “Did the cops catch him?”

  “Billy and Doug had a few words first. Billy was probably a little more impressed by Doug’s methods of persuasion than by anything the cops are doing with him. But Doug really shouldn’t take risks like that. Billy could have had a gun.”

  A gun. Hell, he hadn’t even considered that. Cops carried guns. Billy was a cop. Shit, and he’d thought he could protect her by teaching her a few defensive tricks.

  “I’ll talk to my lawyer. We’ll have him locked away so long he won’t remember what women are for by the time he gets out.”

  “He’ll be out before you can reach your lawyer. He’ll post bond in the morning. Bond for breaking a restraining order isn’t very high. Don’t worry. He’ll think twice before going near Doug again. Doug worked him over pretty good.”

  Seth glanced down and caught a wisp of a smile crossing her lips. He’d wanted to be the one to beat the bum to a bloody pulp and bring that smile to her lips. “How’s Doug?”

  “The way he tells it, Billy got off only one good lick. I took a look at his jaw. He’ll be all right. Billy needed stitches.”

  Pippa turned and slid her arms around his waist, shocking the hell out of him. She rested her head against his shoulder. Out of practice and with no instinct for simple tenderness, Seth slid his hands awkwardly around her, pressing her against him. He’d never been much good at affection. It felt good now, just holding her, smelling the scent of her shampoo, rubbing circles against her spine as he once had with Chad.

  “I’m glad you weren’t there,” she said. “You would have broken Billy’s neck with one of those kicks of yours. I don’t think I could have lived with that.”

  She was probably right. He didn’t have much control over his temper. But that she recognized the strength of his anger and the weapons he wielded without his having said a word ripped him loose from his mooring. No one had ever acknowledged his abilities before, not to his knowledge. Everyone he knew took it for granted that he could juggle his father’s business, Chad’s illness, his writing career, and everything else that came his way without question. He took it for granted himself. But they were heavy burdens, and he liked knowing that she recognized what he could do, even if he hadn’t done anything. Her acceptance made him feel almost human, almost good about himself. It was an unusual sensation.

  “I wanted to beat him into a pulp for you,” he admitted, stroking her back, feeling her breasts against him, acknowledging the pulse pounding heavily below his belt. He shouldn’t be doing this. He’d told himself he wouldn’t. He never repeated mistakes. But he couldn’t let her go just yet. He brushed a kiss across her hair. She smelled like spring.

  “I’ve had quite enough of men who use their fists, thank you,” she answered dryly. “I’ll take brains any day. Figure out what it takes to send Billy home, and I’ll be eternally grateful.”

  She meant it, too, he could tell. Pippa’s soft heart didn’t want her ex-
boyfriend beaten into a pulp no matter how much he deserved it. Foolish woman. Daringly, Seth brushed a kiss across her cheek. She didn’t flinch. She hugged him tighter, as if she could bury herself inside him.

  “How grateful?” he whispered teasingly.

  “Eternally, I said. I’ll talk to St. Peter at the gate.”

  He could feel her relaxing, recognizing the easy humor between them. They would always have laughter.

  “And if he sent the bomb?” Seth asked, because the devil made him do it.

  Pippa sighed and finally turned her face up so their eyes met. The tears glistening against dark lashes seared through him, but the desire he saw there scorched him to his soul.

  “Then I want him locked up for the rest of his damned life. He could have killed you.”

  The bomb could have killed her, but she didn’t even take note of that fact. Her concern for him wormed another little hole in his shell. He took care of others, not the other way around. He didn’t like her worrying about him. But he couldn’t resist her concern either.

  Cautiously, Seth brushed his mouth across Pippa’s. He thought he might die and go to hell if she refused him. Pippa’s was the one rejection he didn’t think he could live with. He didn’t know why her kiss was so important to him, and he didn’t want to analyze it. He just held his breath until her hands slid around his shoulders.

  She opened for him eagerly, capturing him with the hot moisture of her welcome, and joy shot through him. He sank deeper, drowning in sensations he had only dreamed about, could only summon in his imagination.

  He hauled her closer, pushing deeper, seeking taste and touch, absorbing the mint and coffee of her breath with the rough tactile brush of tongue against teeth, striving for something just beyond these physical experiences, something he’d never had and had always wanted, something she could offer and he didn’t know if he deserved, but he wanted anyway. Needed. Desperately.

  “Not like this again,” he murmured in a moment of self- realization, nibbling at her ear because he couldn’t let her go, but escaping the whirlpool of her kiss before they both drowned. “Not like this. I didn’t come prepared. And I want you all night. I want you in my bed come morning. I don’t want any more mistakes or recriminations or guilty morning afters. I want to do it right this time.”

  She tensed against him, and Seth reached down to brush her breast, to stroke it, to force her to acknowledge what was happening between them. Despite his words, he knew it was a mistake, but she muddied his thinking. He couldn’t remember why it was a mistake. He just knew it felt right and that it had to be.

  “Just sex,” she responded breathlessly, really shocking the hell out of him this time. “Just sex. No commitments. No ties that bind. No tags and labels.”

  “Yeah, just sex,” he said roughly, capturing her mouth and sealing the agreement, even as he realized he’d just been cheated. He didn’t know of what or even how, but he could feel it deep inside of him as she circled his neck with her arms and pulled his head down to hers. He could sense the emptiness of the gesture, the despair behind it, but he was too far gone to examine anything more than the soft woman’s body molding into his.

  He’d think about it in the morning. For right now, she was his. He’d put an end to his terminal case of lust and think more clearly when it was over.

  Silently, he swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the room. He needed to be close to Chad in case he cried out in the night.

  Pippa curled up against his chest without a protest.

  Why did he feel as if he were carrying a wounded child?

  Chapter 29

  Seth set her on her feet the instant they crossed the threshold to his suite. The long graceful fingers Pippa had admired racing across a keyboard and stroking a child’s forehead fastened on the buttons of her dress and opened them without fumbling. She couldn’t believe this was real, that she hadn’t fallen into a dreamlike state and imagined this was happening. The snap of her bra released that fantasy. Seth’s heated palms pushed gently against her, and his lips brushed hers, reawakening sensations he’d aroused earlier.

  That first time, he’d taken her roughly, hastily, with the insane lust of relief and alcohol and starvation that had swept them both away. It had been revelatory, magnificent, beyond anything she could have dreamed of, and purely temporary, she was certain.

  She wasn’t so certain now. The kiss he held her with this time was gentle, seeking, inspiring cravings she’d locked away long ago. Lust, she understood. Men liked sex. In exchange for satiating their hungers, they occasionally gave her the affectionate hugs and kisses she wanted. But this was different. Seth was different. He was turning the whole scenario upside down. He sought her kisses, not the other way around. He touched and stroked instead of grabbing. In his own complicated way, he was offering her the chance to take what she wanted instead of vice versa. Offering, not demanding.

  Shaken, she didn’t know how to react. She didn’t know how to tell him what she wanted. She’d never talked about it before, had never had the opportunity to explore. She just wanted to cling and let him do as he would. But he wasn’t. He was waiting, adding fuel to the flames, but waiting.

  Pippa caught Seth’s hands and pressed them to her breasts, looking up at him pleadingly. He smiled, that devastating dark smile that swirled around in her insides and drove spikes of need through her middle.

  “You have the most beautiful breasts,” he whispered. “As soft and touchable as a child’s toy. Do I hurt you when I do this?”

  He squeezed gently, then brushed his thumbs across the crests, driving her into a frenzy.

  “No,” she breathed. “It doesn’t hurt. Please...”

  She couldn’t express the need in words, but he understood anyway. He bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth.

  She was his after that. He could have patted her between his palms and molded her into any shape he liked. Instead, he stripped her of dress and bra and ran his hands up and down her sides, finally catching his fingers in the elastic of her panties and pulling them loose to puddle at her feet. He stood back to admire her nakedness, touched the aroused peak of her breast reverently, then abruptly jerked his shirt over his head.

  He had a magnificent chest, but then, she already knew that. Broad, muscled, with a light mat of dark hairs curling into the valley spearing down to his belt buckle. His nipples were as aroused as hers, and thrilled, she stroked them. Empowered by his quick intake of breath, she leaned over and kissed him there.

  “Pippa,” he said warningly, but she didn’t heed him. She licked the tautened crest, then nipped lightly.

  He grabbed her waist and crushed her against him, nibbling her neck until she shivered, before claiming her mouth again. She hadn’t even known her neck was an erogenous zone, but her body hummed like strummed harp strings.

  “The bedroom,” he muttered against her mouth. “I bought condoms.”

  She should have felt hideous shame at such prosaic words. But the knowledge that he’d gone out and sought protection just for her mixed with the terrifying realization that they hadn’t considered it before. They must have been very drunk that night.

  They weren’t drunk tonight. They had no excuses for what they were about to do now. She’d never had sex without considering it part of the commitment process. She knew this was no such thing. This was just a release of tensions, a rush of hormones, a result of the ozone in California air. A fantasy fling, as Meg called it. A fantasy fling to end all flings. She knew she would never experience the like again.

  So she threw herself into it wildly.

  They fell across his bed, flesh against flesh, Seth’s greater weight crushing her into the well-sprung mattress. His trousered hips rode between her bare legs, and she could feel the steel of him even through the twill.

  Seth caught her nipple between his teeth again, and Pippa quit thinking about anything at all. She let sensation swamp her and swirl her fears away. He returned his mouth to
hers again, thrusting inside, taking and asking at the same time.

  She wasn’t ready yet. The tide of desire sucked her under, whirling her around faster until she would do almost anything he asked, but some tiny rebellious spark inside wasn’t ready to go down for the count. She didn’t feel any of the warm soft fuzzies she’d sought with prior encounters. In some unconscious part of her mind, she knew what was happening now had nothing to do with warm soft fuzzies. But she wanted something.

  Pippa pushed at Seth’s shoulders until he fell back, watching her questioningly. She didn’t know how to say it. She didn’t have to. Seth’s eyes lit with devilment, and he rolled over, pulling her on top of him.

  “Your turn,” he said roughly. “Get these damned pants off me before they cut off my circulation.”

  Pippa laughed with the sheer joy of it. It didn’t have to be a silent rough-and-tumble. She could have what she wanted without asking, without embarrassment, with the natural companionship that had somehow developed between them. She wouldn’t question how. She would think about it later. Instead, she jerked open his belt buckle.

  Together, they got his clothing off, then he pulled her up against him again, smothering her with kisses as their bare bodies adjusted to this new flood of sensation.

  “All night,” he warned, nipping at her lips. “Don’t you dare leave this bed until I’m ready.”

  “Bossy,” she sneered, licking his lips until he caught her tongue and drank it in.

  His hand slid down between them, parting her, stroking, driving her insane.

  “Let me pretend anyway,” he agreed. “Just for a little while, let me pretend you’re in my thrall.”

  She laughed and gasped as his fingers dipped inside her. No one had ever...

  She didn’t finish the thought. Seth caught her hips, positioned her where he wanted her, and thrust upward.