by Gun Brooke
“Oh, God.”
“She lay in the street until a neighbor pulled out of her driveway and nearly backed over her. If she hadn’t been so observant…well, you know.” Lark shrugged.
“I understand. And I bet you were the first one out the door when your family learned that she was injured.”
“She was my little sister. My responsibility.” Lark’s jaws felt stiff. “I know my mother was the head of our household, but I was always left in charge when we kids were home alone, even if I wasn’t the oldest.”
“Always the mediator.”
Lark looked up, surprised. “Yes. You remember that?”
“I remember everything you’ve said. And what your family said when I came by.” She colored faintly in the light from the fireplace. “You’re not like any person I’ve ever met, so that might be why.”
“But…I’m just me. I mean, ordinary.” Lark was puzzled. “You meet the most amazing people—industrial magnates, political leaders. You’ve traveled far more than I, and I’ve worked on all five continents.”
“And still, I haven’t met anyone who gets under my skin and makes me focus like you do.” Sheridan cupped Lark’s cheek for a moment. “You’re complex, kind, committed to your job, and more patient than I could ever hope to be.”
“You’re being patient with my childish fears right now.”
“I disagree. They aren’t childish fears. You went through hell during a thunderstorm when you were young. They’re completely understandable.”
“You’ve been through hell too,” Lark said. “Your mother’s illness and the way it was handled. Your father’s death. Your own illness.”
“Yeah. Probably the same thing. Hadn’t thought of it quite like that.”
Thunder rolled again, this time louder than before, and Lark knew the storm had come back full circle. “Damn it. Why can’t it just stop?” she muttered.
“It’s the lake. A lot of times, it circles the lake several times before it runs out of juice.”
“Oh, great.” Lark sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “This is going to be a rough evening.”
“Yeah. But I’m here, if that’s any consolation. And what’s more, Fiona’s safe back in Boerne.”
“Yes, thank God.” Lark couldn’t resist the low purr in Sheridan’s voice any longer. She turned on her side, pressing her forehead against Sheridan’s shoulder. “I worked hard for years to get the picture of her, bleeding and broken, out of my mind. She was unconscious when I reached her. I knew we shouldn’t move her, and Mom and I had to fight off my other sisters. They wanted to pull her into the house.”
“That probably also helped save her life,” Sheridan said softly. She brushed back Lark’s hair with gentle fingers.
“Yes. The doctors said so.” Lark moved into Sheridan’s touch. “It just took so long before we knew if she would make it, and when she finally woke up…she couldn’t move at all. It took her a long time to regain what she has now. Fiona was the brave one. She was the fighter who inspired me to become a physical therapist. I wanted to help others the same way Fiona’s PTs helped her.”
“Makes sense, given your sweet nature.”
The words, uttered with such sincerity, made Lark look up at Sheridan. “Sweet?”
“Yes. I don’t mean it in a meek way, far from it. You’re as tough as they come. At least you are with me.” Sheridan winked. Her dark gray eyes, even darker in the light of the fire, swept up and down Lark’s body.
Heat spread throughout Lark’s system, creating beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip. She wiped them, self-conscious and aroused at the same time. Sheridan radiated a mix of concern and attraction, unless Lark misread her completely. She wanted to press close to Sheridan, feel her arms around her, and hide from the thunder. More than that, she wanted to finally feel Sheridan’s lips against hers, to find out if all these rampant feelings she harbored were real.
Sheridan kept smoothing Lark’s hair back. Leaning into the touch, Lark trembled at the way Sheridan looked at her. She could almost feel the glances against her skin, and the tension between them grew with every quick breath. Sitting so close, their bodies touching, Lark knew she’d never been so exhilarated or nervous before. Sheridan kept touching her and soon Lark would want more. Her breasts ached, and she felt as if only Sheridan’s hands could quench the fire under her skin.
“You not only look sweet, I bet you taste just as sweet.” Sheridan’s voice was tense, lower than usual.
“You might just have to wait your turn.” Lark grabbed the hand that stroked her hair and held it a fraction of an inch from her lips. She kissed Sheridan’s palm languidly. “Mmm. You taste very good.”
“I do?” Sheridan was considerably more breathless, and the hand Lark held was definitely shaking. “You vixen.” She turned somewhat and, by doing so, towered over Lark in the bed. “You a closeted flirt, Ms. Mitchell?”
“Never flirt. Well. Not really.” Lark nibbled the knuckle of Sheridan’s index finger. “I’m just interested in people. Some might call that being…” she nibbled some more “…flirtatious.”
Sheridan growled in the back of her throat, pressed Lark’s hand into the bed, and brushed her lips along the right side of Lark’s face. Overwhelmed by her arousal and needing Sheridan’s touch more than she had needed anything in a long time, Lark captured Sheridan’s mouth with hers and slid her tongue along Sheridan’s lower lip.
A sharp breath proved that she’d managed to take Sheridan by surprise. Lark inhaled the scent of the men’s soap Sheridan used, with a musk tinge, so unlike her own fruity gel variety. As Lark buried her face against Sheridan’s neck, she found her scent alluring.
“Lark…” Sheridan framed Lark’s face with both hands and kissed her forehead. She kissed softly down Lark’s nose and captured her lips. The thunder boomed again and Sheridan trapped Lark’s whimper in her mouth.
“Sheridan, hold me,” Lark whispered.
“I won’t let go.”
“Hold me.”
“Feel me.” Sheridan moved closer, pressing her chest to Lark’s. “Open your mouth for me.”
“I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to help myself…” Lark whimpered again, but this time from sheer desire, as she complied.
*
Sheridan couldn’t move her legs sufficiently to slide fully on top of Lark, but she was happy where she was. Lark’s half-open mouth met hers with trust and desire, and Sheridan explored it gratefully. Responsive, and with a taste that was entirely her own, Lark’s mouth enticed Sheridan to take the kiss further. Sheridan devoured her, and her heart thundered louder and louder as Lark returned the kiss.
“God, Lark, you feel so good,” Sheridan murmured as she kissed her way down Lark’s neck. She pushed the shirt open more fully, wanting to reach the indentation above Lark’s collarbone.
“Ah…” Lark arched against Sheridan. “Please. Please.”
“You don’t have to beg, Lark. Don’t you know what you do to me?” Sheridan licked a trail over to the other collarbone. “I want to taste all of you. I’ve wanted that for a long time.”
“I thought it was only me. I thought I’d go out of my mind when I gave you that first massage…and—”
“Really, then?” Sheridan raised her head, gazing into Lark’s eyes, which burned with an amber glow.
“Yes.” Lark wrapped her free arm around Sheridan and pulled her close. “You’re extraordinary, and I’ve ached to touch you—like this. I know it’s wrong. Unprofessional. Unethical. And I’ve never felt, or done, anything like this before.” Lark pressed her cheek against Sheridan’s shoulder. “Oh, God, the way you make me feel—”
“Show me.” Sheridan’s throat was dry from her being so hot and aroused.
“You sure?”
“Show me,” Sheridan repeated, trembling all over.
“Mmm…yes.” Lark rolled Sheridan over onto her back, stared down at her, and smiled, her cheeks a deep red. Slowly, Lark
ran the tip of her tongue along her upper lip in an obvious challenge. “Like this.” She lowered her head and took Sheridan’s mouth in a simple, but powerful kiss that sent new floods of moisture between her legs. Sheridan wanted to rub her legs together, to harness her arousal before she ignited and went into orbit, but focused on Lark instead.
Sheridan found she only had to focus on Lark’s incredible softness as their hands roamed up and down each other. Sheridan wanted to cup Lark’s breasts, but something, shyness or a feeling that it was too much too soon, kept her from taking their mutual exploration further.
Lark seemed more trusting, more open, and she nuzzled the curve of Sheridan’s breasts with her nose, pushing the fabric out of the way.
“Lark. You drive me crazy,” Sheridan gasped. “You’re like fire.”
“I am?” Lark didn’t raise her head, but slowed her caresses. “Yes, I think so. Your fault. All your fault.”
She spoke so tenderly that Sheridan hugged her firmly and kissed her with the same determination as she answered, “Let me hold you. I just need this, to hold you and feel you against me—”
“Hello? You gals all right?” A male voice tore through the silent house. “Hello?”
“Damn it,” Sheridan muttered under her breath. “Yes. We’re fine. We’re here. Staying warm.” Sheridan didn’t have to push Lark off her. She had withdrawn the second Burt’s voice echoed through the room.
He showed up in the doorway with a flashlight in his hand. “The missus was worried that y’all couldn’t cope on your own. You seem fine though.” He looked at them under his dripping baseball cap. “Something I can do for you?”
To Sheridan’s dismay, Lark snuck out of the bed, her voice not quite steady as she replied. “No, that’s all right. Sweet of you to ask, but you shouldn’t have ventured out in this weather.”
“I can take the dog off your hands, at least.”
“No,” Sheridan said from the bed, hoisting herself up against the pillows. “We’ve just started to make progress. I don’t want to lose the connection.”
Burt looked as if he didn’t quite follow but nodded amicably. “All right. Well, Cora will be glad when I tell her you’re okay.”
“Thanks. The storm can’t last forever.”
“Bye, then.” Burt touched his cap in a cordial gesture and walked toward the front door.
Lark looked at Sheridan, her hands restless as she tugged at her fingers. “I should make sure all the windows are closed. The worst of the thunder seems to have passed.”
“Lark…” Sheridan raised her hand, not sure what to say.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. All right?” Lark’s pleading expression pierced through Sheridan’s residual arousal.
“All right. Hurry back.” Adding those last two words made Sheridan feel vulnerable, and she tried to hide her openness by straightening the blanket and pushing at the pillows behind her.
Lark’s features softened, and she leaned forward and placed one knee on the bed. As she ran her hand along Sheridan’s arm, she smiled faintly. “I’ll hurry back.”
As Lark left, with Frank right behind her, Sheridan tried to understand what had happened between them. Clearly the attraction was mutual, but there was more. Sheridan knew what great integrity Lark possessed, and the fact that Lark was attracted to a patient and acted on her feelings had to be huge. Sheridan wondered how she herself had gone from being sensitive and listening, to horny and ready to tear Lark’s clothes off in a matter of—minutes? If Burt hadn’t interrupted them, Sheridan knew they would have been undressed by now and making love.
At least that’s what she thought, but Lark’s reaction to the interruption suggested more complicated emotions. Perhaps Lark’s sense of duty and responsibility had surfaced once she had time to think. Or was she just looking for understanding and empathy, never meaning for their physical intimacy to escalate like it had? Sheridan sighed and wanted to hide under the blanket and not have to decipher Lark’s expression when she returned. This uncharacteristic reaction startled her. Sheridan Ward never hid from anything life threw at her! Or does she? Wasn’t that what she was doing here, at the lake? Or in the old days, before the illness, when she had used her bachelor den in the center of Austin as a refuge, wasn’t that hiding?
Sheridan tossed a pillow across the room, groaning at her futile reasoning. All she really wanted was for Lark to come back so they could either continue what they had started or talk so she knew they were okay. She felt lonelier and colder than ever, and only Lark’s presence could remedy her ache.
Chapter Nineteen
“They here yet?” Sheridan asked and looked up from her laptop.
Lark couldn’t speak at first. Sheridan sat by the window in the rustic living room, and the sun shone in on her from the side, highlighting her chocolate brown hair and adding a golden streak to her silver-gray eyes. Her skin seemed transparent and her pale pink lips so tempting, Lark had to close her hands into tight fists so she wouldn’t rush over and kiss her. They hadn’t gone as far as they had the evening of the big electrical storm, but they had shared lingering touches and snuggled on the couch by the fireplace more often than Lark could count. Cozy. That was the only word to describe it. And the underlying, hot feeling that something could ignite at any given time persisted. Lark couldn’t look at Sheridan’s long neck without wanting to shower it with kisses and love bites.
“Fiona called from the car. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Good. That gives me the perfect excuse to chuck the laptop for a while. I’m stiff from typing all day.” Sheridan rolled her shoulder and grinned.
“You stiff, huh. Let me help you.” Lark circled Sheridan and put the laptop on the desk. Feeling her hands under Sheridan’s collar, she examined the muscles that led up to her neck and frowned. “You’re beyond stiff. You need a massage.”
“I know, but it’ll have to wait until your family’s gone. It’ll take longer than ten minutes.”
“Ah, but you don’t know how fast I can be.” Lark leaned forward and to the side so Sheridan could see her.
“You can be quick, eh?” Sheridan blinked. “Well, I suppose that’s a good trait—sometimes.”
Lark laughed, a tad breathlessly, and began to massage the taut muscles under Sheridan’s silken skin. “Yeah, sometimes,” she agreed. “I don’t want any of your migraines to be for lack of care on my part, you know.”
“Lack of care. Would never happen.”
Sheridan spoke with a certainty that warmed Lark. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she managed. “That kind of makes me glad to hear.”
“Kind of?”
“No. Wrong words. Very much so.”
“You’re by far the most caring person I’ve met, so that’s a no-brainer rather than a compliment.” Sheridan glanced back at Lark over her shoulder. “Oh, boy, are you blushing?” She smiled broadly.
“Unexpected compliments, or no-brainers, as you put it, do that to me.”
“Looks adorable.” Sheridan winked.
“Hmm. Another cute kind of word.” Lark tried to frown, but it was impossible not to laugh.
“Mea culpa. Just speaking the truth though.”
“Ms. Ward, your guests are pulling into the driveway.” Mrs. Johnson poked her head through the doorway. “I’ll have welcome drinks, hot and cold, ready on the porch in a minute.”
“Perfect,” Sheridan said and turned to Lark. “We better greet them.” She sounded genuinely enthusiastic, and Lark thought she looked as close as she would ever come to resembling a giddy child.
“Yes, come on.” Lark walked next to Sheridan to the doors that led directly out from the living room to the wraparound porch. She saw her parents’ minivan pull up in front of the building.
“Lark! Sheridan! So great to be here.” Arthur grinned as he opened the side door and extended the ramp, making it possible for Fiona to guide her wheelchair out of the vehicle. “Here’s someone who’s eager to leave Boe
rne for a while.”
“You got that right, Dad.” Fiona laughed. “I love Boerne, but it can become a bit monotonous.”
“Welcome, all of you. Any of the kids with you?” Sheridan asked, sounding quite hopeful.
“Yup,” Doris said and emerged from the car. “We brought Sean and Michael. When they heard you have a pool, we couldn’t stop them.”
“Good. I was hoping y’all would be interested in a dip, either in the pool or the lake.”
“Hmm, the pool’s good enough for me,” Arthur said. “Not so much for open water, you see.”
“You and me both,” Sheridan muttered. “Fiona, it’s great to see you. This house isn’t as outfitted as yours, but it’s fully accessible.”
“I’ll be fine,” Fiona said. “I’m used to winging it. You should see me when I fly to any of my exhibitions. The gate attendants sometimes look like they’re going to have a cow right then and there when I drive up to the gate. Probably wondering if they’ll have to carry me.”
“I bet. I haven’t tried that yet. I’ve had to fly a couple of times, but I’ve gone in the company jet.”
“Oh, I do want to get me one of those,” Fiona pouted, then burst out laughing.
“Who else is coming?” Lark asked as she spotted a dust cloud at the far end of the road leading to the estate.
“No clue. Wait.” Sheridan squinted and shaded her eyes. “I think that’s Erica’s car. She drives a Crossfire.”
Oh, no. Lark’s good mood plummeted. “Any special reason, you think?” As in, is she coming to hog you for the rest of the day, to make you work?
“I have no idea. I didn’t hear anything beforehand. Here she is now.”
Erica stepped out of the car, carrying a briefcase. Perhaps she read the expression on Lark’s face very clearly because her first words to Sheridan seemed designed to reassure her. “I’m not here to create a problem. I just brought some urgent documents for you to sign. I see I came at a bad time. That’ll teach me to do things on the spur of the moment.”
“No, no,” Sheridan said and held out her hand. “Let me introduce you.”
