Trouble in Tourmaline (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Jane Toombs

  “It’s a story Sarah liked read to her when she was little.” He recalled now that he’d had the time to read to his daughter when she was a toddler, before he joined Murdock’s firm, a move Iris had urged him to make. A mistake. Still, couldn’t he have made time for Sarah?

  “Time to go aboard,” he told Amy, wiping the past from his mind.

  “Aye, aye, captain.”

  After Amy helped him hoist the sails, he used the motor to ease the Frivolous from her slip and out of the condo marina into the lake, where he shut it off. Wind filled the sails, sending them gliding almost soundlessly except for occasional creaks, flaps and the splash of waves against the hull. Sunlight glittered on the blue water and a lone seagull circled above as they left Incline Village behind for the sail across to Emerald Bay.

  The day was perfect for sailing, enough wind to send the boat scudding along, but not strong enough so it became a threat. As usual, the big mountain lake wasn’t crowded with boats. By the time they were well out, the Frivolous might as well have been alone on the water, since no other boats were in sight.

  “What a glorious day,” Amy said. After a moment, she added, “The water is so blue here, why do they call it Emerald Bay?”

  Looking at her, he was tempted to say, “Because it matches your beautiful green eyes.” He told himself he didn’t because, at the moment, she wore sunglasses, as he did. But he knew the reason was that he didn’t want to sound ridiculously romantic, even though he felt that way at the moment. Which had to do with the day and the boat as much as it did the woman. At least that’s what he’d like to believe.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” he told her.

  “No old tale to go with the reason?”

  “There’s an island in the bay where someone built a tea house, so her guests who were staying in the mansion on the shore, could sail over, climb the hill and have tea served in the little house.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “Not my kind of tale. No romantic meetings of doomed lovers, no unsolved crimes. No hauntings. Is the tea house still there?”

  “Remnants.”

  “Oh well, then. Ruins are romantic.”

  “I didn’t take you for a hopeless romantic.”

  “That’s the way I felt about my brother before he met Mari. But you’re correct, I’m really not.”

  Which was the truth, Amy told herself. She’d had every vestige of romance permanently eradicated after her experience with Vince. Betrayal will crush a lot of feelings.

  “That’s right, you don’t trust men.”

  “Those I’ve met haven’t given me any reason to.” She heard the sadness in her voice with dismay.

  “One in particular.” It wasn’t a question.

  How could he be so sure? She was certain she wasn’t that easy to read. “It’s water under the bridge, down the river, over the dam and into the sea.”

  The wind, picking up, caught the sails, sending the boat flying. It laid over, skimming the waves, sending a thrill of pure elation tingling through her. She’d forgotten the joy of sailing. Forgotten a lot of things, like the wonder of a perfect day spent with the right man. Tomorrow aside, at this moment David was the right man to be with.

  They reached Emerald Bay as the sun was lowering. As she marveled at how the water changed color to a brilliant green, he said, “One problem. The wind won’t favor us on the way back. Plus, the way it’s beginning to blow, we’d be at risk.” He gave her a rueful grin. “Something like running out of gas for the truck at the dead end of a lonesome mountain road. Only in this case, too much wind, not none, is the problem.”

  “You mean we can’t get back?”

  “Not before dark, which means we’d have night as well as the rising wind to contend with. I’m going to look for a cove to anchor in.”

  “As Sarah’s friend Betty would say—awesome. Marooned for the night on Emerald Bay.”

  “You sound as if you don’t mind.”

  She shrugged. “Neither of us have to go to work tomorrow and Sarah’s perfectly safe at my brother’s.” No way did she intend to admit right now that she’d brought the pj’s and the change of clothes always left at Gert’s for Sarah, along with them to her brother’s—just in case. “Besides, I’ve never spent a night on a boat before.”

  “You’ve never spent a night with me, either,” he said.

  They exchanged a long look before having to busy themselves with lowering the sails and the other tasks necessary to anchoring. While she worked, excitement mixed with a thread of anxiety hummed through Amy.

  From the beginning, planning this outing, she’d realized this might be the outcome. She’d thought of it as an end to her indecision, her wishy-washy behavior toward a relationship with David, but now that the time was here, she teetered on the verge of wondering if she’d made the right choice. For it would be a commitment of sorts, she saw that plainly.

  “What’s the matter?” David asked. “All of a sudden you look scared. The boat’s in no danger anchored here for the night. We’re safe enough.”

  He saw too much and yet not quite enough. She took a deep breath, mustered up a saucy look and said, “Are we?”

  David smiled. “Looking at it that way, maybe not. But I’d say we’ve finally reached the right place at the right time to find out.”

  That was what she needed—to find out. Not about their coming together, she knew in her very bones that part of it would be a success. But could she handle an intense relationship that would probably go nowhere? Up until now she’d been too much of a coward to attempt it. That was before she’d met David, though, and the fire between them couldn’t be ignored. He’d brought her the need to know.

  Why didn’t he wrap his arms around her right this minute and banish all her doubts?

  Instead, he went calmly on with putting the boat to rights, just as though he’d spent night after night anchored on Emerald Bay with her and so already knew everything there was to know about what would happen.

  He leaned toward her and her breath caught. Had he sensed her thoughts?

  “Have you checked the galley?” he asked. “What are we having for dinner?”

  She couldn’t help glaring at him.

  He straightened. “Hey, I intend to help, not sit around and be waited on.”

  “That’s not the point.” She stalked over to the cabin entrance and eased herself down into it. She was about to open a cupboard and peer inside, when he grabbed her from behind and rolled her onto one of the bunks.

  “Been waiting all day for this,” he said, holding her close, his lips a breath away from hers. “Couldn’t figure out a way to get you down here any sooner, though.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sprawled on the bunk in the boat cabin, for a moment Amy lost herself in David’s embrace, then she squirmed free. “Food first,” she declared.

  “Food last,” he growled, reaching for her again.

  She stood, moving out of reach. “Haven’t you heard anticipation gives everything an extra edge?” she teased. Now that she knew he was as strung up as she was, she decided it might be fun to prolong things.

  “Edge? Woman, what do you think I’m teetering on?”

  She opened the door of the small refrigerator, saying, “You said you’d help with—oh, wow!”

  He got to his feet and peered over her shoulder.

  “Mari said her grandfather’s housekeeper would see to it the boat was stocked and ready,” Amy said, “but this is an entire gourmet feast.” She reached in, took a shrimp, dipped it in sauce and turned. “Open your mouth.”

  When he did, she popped in the shrimp.

  “I could go for a couple more,” he admitted after he finished it. Then he sat down, took off his sneakers and socks and wriggled his toes. “Ah, freedom at last.”

  He looked so comfortable, she decided to do the same before setting the table.

  With the sun beginning to sink behind the Sierras, the cabin grew dark so David lit the lamps. He turned
on a CD player as Amy set the food she found in the refrigerator on the table. Also inside chilling were two stemmed glasses and a bottle from a select New York winery.

  “What shall we drink to?” she asked when they were both seated at the table listening to what had to be big band music from Joe Haskell’s time—the thirties and forties.

  “To Gert,” David said, raising his glass, “with thanks.”

  As she sipped her wine, Amy tried to tell herself she wasn’t disappointed. Then again, had she really expected the toast to be “to us” or something similar? By the time she’d eaten her way through the shrimp and started on the cold salmon mousse, though, she realized it may have been his roundabout way of saying, “to us.” After all, if it hadn’t been for Gert, they never would have met. As to the future, David could be no more sure than she was what “us” would prove to mean to either of them.

  After they were through eating, David helped her tidy the cabin and then they went up on deck. The wind had died down, the full moon, big and beautiful, sent silver dancing across the water and pine-scented evening air slid across the skin like silk. Below, a singer crooned about dancing in the dark.

  “Shall we?” David asked her, holding out his arms.

  She moved into them and they glided across the deck. Amy tingled from his touch, warmth pooling inside her from the feel of his body pressed against hers. Before this moment she had never thought dancing with a man could be so arousing. Was it because they were alone and anything might happen?

  The vocalist sang something about forever and she nestled closer, wishing this moment could last until the end of time. Eventually she grew aware another song was playing, a singer asking whether it could be nothing but moon love. Moon love. The words echoed in her mind. Love was too scary a feeling to contemplate, but moon love, something born of the magic of the night, something that might not last, but would be wonderful while it did, was somehow a lighter emotion, one she could catch hold of.

  “If we carry on with anticipating much longer,” David whispered in her ear, “I’m warning you, the deck’s damn hard.” As he spoke, he eased toward the opening of the cabin, leaving it up to her to choose.

  A shaft of moonlight seemed to beckon her down the steps. In the cabin, one lamp still burned. She turned and looked at David, seeing her own hunger reflected in his eyes.

  “I’ve been counting the seven buttons on your shirt all day,” he said, “wondering how long it takes to undo them.”

  “You’ve only got two buttons on your polo shirt and they’re already undone,” she countered.

  “You could pull it over my head.”

  She did just that, and though she’d seen his naked chest more than once, her heart accelerated.

  He reached and undid the top button of her shirt, murmuring, “Seven.” One by one he unbuttoned, counting down until he reached the last. “Off,” he concluded, and eased the shirt from her shoulders. She gasped as he molded his hands over the pale green silk of her bra cups, her nipples rising, aching for his touch.

  He reached around her, unfastened the hook, slid off the straps and tossed her bra aside. She heard his breath catch as he gazed at her breasts. “Your turn,” he rasped.

  She had trouble unhooking the silver buckle of his belt, but it finally came free. Her fingers fumbled at the top snap, got it open and slowly slid down the zipper, the hardness she could feel as she did so sending pulsating waves from her fingertips to her groin. He slid down the jeans, flung them away and reached to undo hers. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, but the act of undressing each other appealed so erotically to her that she could feel herself melting inside.

  She stepped out of her jeans, cast them aside and hooked her fingers under the waistband of his shorts. Once she’d eased them down, she stared at the marked evidence of how ready he was, sparks of anticipation crackling through her.

  He disposed of her bikinis in a single swoop, lifted her into his arms, laid her gently onto the double bunk and eased down beside her, gathering her to him and kissing her at last.

  The kiss, deep and hard and demanding, drew a wild and abandoned response from her. She could sense herself on the edge of losing control, of giving herself up to pure feeling, letting it take her where it would. Since, even in the better days with Vince, she’d always remained in control of herself, a sliver of fear tensed her for an instant.

  But David’s warm caresses soon disposed of the sliver, stealing away the remnants of her control, sending her circling upward on a thermal of passion, higher and higher.

  “Now, oh, please now,” she heard someone pleading breathlessly, unsure if it was her.

  He took her higher still before he joined with her, skyrocketing her into their own private realm of pleasure. When they’d glided down into reality again, he shifted to his side, still holding her in his arms. “You were right,” he murmured.

  “About what?”

  “That was some extra edge.”

  Extra edge or not, not too many minutes passed before he bent his head to her breast, starting a new burst of sensation along her nerve endings. This time she had the chance to savor the sensuous feel of his bare skin against hers as they made slow, sweet love, ending in an equally mind-shattering climax.

  Afterward they lay side by side, her hand in his, a sheet pulled over them. She was drifting between awake and asleep, when he said, “You said you look like your chorus girl great-grandmother. If she was anything like you otherwise, no wonder your great-grandfather defied the family for her.”

  “I guess that’s a compliment.”

  “You know it.” He leaned over and kissed her, then settled back down. “That was the first part of kiss and tell. Your turn.”

  “What do you mean my turn?”

  “Some bastard made you mistrust men.”

  Bastard described Vince perfectly. But he was better left in the past. “What if I don’t want to tell?”

  “Isn’t the right word denial?”

  “Just who’s the shrink here, anyway?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t like the tables turned, do you?”

  “Okay, so he was a guy I met my first year in college. I was taking pre-law then, but he was already in law school. I was naive. He wasn’t. It was a painful lesson. End of story.”

  “Is he the one who drove you out of pre-law into psych?”

  Amy thought about it. “Not exactly. He hastened the switch, since after Vince I realized I didn’t want to be a lawyer. I never had, actually. But my dad brainwashed me just like he did Russ. Dad was—is—a control freak.”

  Finding she wanted to go on, wanted to tell him what she’d never told anyone, she said, “Vince was into control, too. You’d think I would have noticed, considering Dad, but I didn’t. I moved in with Vince my second semester—a tough one since I had my own assignments, plus typing papers for Vince from his notes because he was so busy. I knew law school was difficult and I was eager to help. We seldom went anywhere—going places would be for later, he said.”

  “Admirable character, Vince.” David’s voice held contempt.

  “Definitely. I didn’t catch on until spring break when plans I thought we’d made came crashing down. His excuse was an assignment by one of his profs that would take him the entire break to complete. He’d be gone most of the time, but meanwhile I could help out by getting him caught up on some overdue papers during break. When I called my parents to let them know I meant to stay on at the college, my father had a fit. So I figured I’d go home for a few days, then come back and do Vince’s papers.

  “What happened was that my mother got sick while I was home so I stayed longer than I intended to. I couldn’t get hold of Vince to let him know, so my return went without notice. You can guess the rest. What had been keeping him so blasted ‘busy’ was there in bed with him. She was a grad student. At the time I hated her as much as him, but later I realized he was probably using her, too.”

  “So you left both Vince and pre-law and switch
ed to psych.”

  She sighed. “While I did learn to spot users and control freaks, I soon discovered they’re all over, not confined to law students and fathers.”

  “I never figured I was either,” he said.

  “You’re not, but you’re a man and therefore suspect.”

  “Still?” he said, kissing her again.

  “You could try to convince me otherwise,” she teased, sliding her hand down his abdomen until she encountered firm evidence of arousal.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he told her.

  When he woke in the morning, the first thing David saw was Amy’s face, beautiful as ever in sleep. He smiled, aware he’d never before spent a night like the one with her. This was what the chemistry between them had been leading up to all along. She was the sexiest partner a man could ever want.

  Because she’d arranged for the sailboat to be available, he knew that sometime between the powwow Saturday night and yesterday, she’d made up her mind that their coming together was inevitable. The result was that the right time and the right place couldn’t have been more perfect. He’d never forget dancing on the deck under the moon, or what came afterward. He anticipated many more nights with Amy.

  Remembering the moon made him recall the words she’d murmured just before they both finally fell asleep. “Moon love,” he thought she’d said, but he’d drifted off before he could ask what she’d meant.

  She stirred in her sleep and he leaned to brush his lips over hers. Her eyes opened, then she gazed at him and smiled. Thinking about last night had aroused him, he didn’t need any more encouragement.

  She felt so good, so right against him, flesh to flesh. Kissing her, caressing her drove him up. Her tiny moans and the way she pressed closer told him she was on the way up, too. How could he still want a woman so much when they’d spent half the night locked in each other’s arms? It’d be damn difficult for him to get enough of Amy.

  Maybe you never will, something inside him whispered.