He lowered his hands slowly down her sides, savoring the feel of warm, soft skin until he found the elasticized waistband of the long, flowing skirt. Sliding his palms beneath the band, he pushed the garment down over her hips.
And discovered that a bra was not the only item of underwear that she had neglected that evening.
He let the skirt drop to her ankles. Then he threaded his fingers through the triangle of curling hair. Damned if he would ever tell Eugene or any other man that Octavia was, indeed, a natural redhead.
"You're not wearing any panties," he said against her bare shoulder.
"I was in a hurry when I left the cottage tonight."
"I may go crazy here."
A smile played at the edges of her mouth. She started to unfasten his shirt. "Because I forgot to put on a pair of panties?"
"Doesn't take much to drive me over the edge when I'm this close to you."
"I'm glad."
She separated the edges of his shirt and flattened her palms against his chest. "I'm not feeling wholly sane myself at the moment."
He eased her backward, kissing her with every step, until she came up against the high bed. The ghostly bed curtains drifted gently behind her, guarding the interior of the secret bower.
He did not take his mouth from hers when he reached behind her to pull the hazy fabric aside. Grasping the quilt, he pulled it straight down to the foot of the bed, exposing pristine white sheets.
He picked her up, put her down on the pale bedding, and stepped back to finish undressing himself. The wispy bed hangings drifted closed. On the other side of the veil Octavia watched him through the misty material. She lay on her side, knees slightly bent, hips curved in graceful, seductive lines.
He stood there for a few seconds, every muscle rigid with the effort it took to exert some control over the aching, raging need that was uncoiling rapidly throughout his body. It had never been like this with any other woman, he thought, baffled and bemused. He could not seem to wrap his mind around this sensation. It was not just physical. He was old enough and sufficiently experienced to take the physical effects in stride.
There was something else going on here. He knew that in the depths of his soul. He'd been trying to ignore it, work around it, deny it, but there was no possibility of avoiding the reality. Octavia was different.
He looked at her through the drifting veils that surrounded the bed, and for a moment he wondered if she really was a sorceress who had somehow managed to enchant him.
He had no time to wonder about his predicament. The heaviness of his erection made it impossible to think clearly. He fought his way out of the rest of his clothing.
When he pulled the bed hangings aside the second time, Octavia reached for him, drawing him down onto the snowy sheets. He put one hand on the sweet, round curve of her hip and she twisted urgently against him.
"Nick."
"Not so fast," he whispered.
But she was moving, sliding, slipping along the length of him. He felt her mouth on his chest and then her tongue touched his belly.
When her fingers curled around him and her lips moved lower, he thought he disintegrate.
He rolled her onto her back, pinning her with one leg thrown across her thighs. "I meant what I said. We're going to take this nice and slow."
"Are we?" Her voice was both mischievous and sensual. A woman who knows she's in control of the situation. She wriggled a little beneath his weight. "Do you really want to go slow?"
"Most definitely," he said. "I want to go slow tonight. And what's more, I'm going to make sure that we do."
She drew her fingertips down the length of his back. "Wanna bet?"
"Oh, yeah."
He bent his head and covered her mouth with his own. When she was absorbed in the kiss, giving herself completely over to it, working her sorcery, he reached out and snagged one of the trailing bed hangings.
He looped the fabric around her left wrist and tied a quick knot in it. "Ummph?"
She wrenched her mouth away from his. Her eyes snapped open.
He grasped a wispy hanging on the opposite side of the bed and anchored her other wrist.
"Oh, my." She looked up at him, sexy laughter sparkling in her eyes. "This is interesting."
He leaned over her, bracing his weight on his elbows. "I thought so."
"All this just to slow me down?"
"I'm a desperate man."
She could pull the airy bed hangings down and free herself with a couple of quick tugs, but somehow he didn't think she would do that. He sensed that she was in a mood to walk on the wild side tonight. He could tell because he was inclined in the same direction. A shining example of synchronicity at work.
"What happens next?" she murmured.
"I don't know." He slid one hand between her legs and found the pearl in the oyster. He smiled when he felt her move beneath him, seeking more. "Shall we find out?"
"Oh, yes." She licked her lips and looked up at him through veiled lashes. "Let's do that."
He stroked her slowly, dampening his hand in her dew.
She lifted her hips against his fingers, tempting him with her body. She could have lured an angel into trouble. And he was no angel.
He moved down her body with his mouth, going lower until her scent enveloped him. He was so hard now he dared not brush his erection against her skin for fear of losing the fragile grip on his self-control. This was going to be a test of endurance and he was determined to make sure that he won tonight.
Eventually, when she was moaning and restless, he found the small, sensitive nubbin with his mouth. She caught her breath and tensed.
"Nick."
He used his tongue until she was gasping and writhing.
"Yes, please, yes. Now, damn it."
He slid a finger into her, searching for the spot; pressed upward. She gasped.
"Yes. Right there. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes. Nick"
She came in shuddering little waves of raw, feminine energy that took his breath away. He barely made it back up her body in time to sink himself fully into her before his own climax ripped through him.
She jerked her arms abruptly and then her nails were in his back and her legs were wrapped snugly around his hips. The last thing he remembered was the feel of the bed hangings floating down like so many silken cobwebs, tangling him in a snare he did not think that he would ever be able to escape.
He came back to his senses a long time later. For a moment he did not open his eyes, preferring to savor the satisfaction that hummed through him. He was content to drift forever in the aftermath of the lovemaking.
Then he felt the soft touch of gauzy fabric twining around his right wrist. He opened one eye. Octavia's breasts brushed across his chest when she leaned over him to secure his other wrist to the bedpost. He opened his other eye.
"What's going on here?" he asked with lazy interest.
She straddled him and smiled slowly. "My turn."
"Oh, wow."
She felt him leave the bed again shortly before dawn. Dismay and regret and a strange resentment whispered through her. She opened her eyes and stared at the wall, listening to him pad barefooted across the floor.
Of course he was leaving. What had she expected him to do? Stay until morning? What would be the point? This was a summer affair.
But she was not about to let him just slide out like this. He could say a proper goodbye when he left her bed, damn it.
She turned on her side, searching for him in the shadows, expecting to see him making for the bathroom with his clothes. But he wasn't creeping across the carpet.
He stood at the window, one hand braced against the sill, and looked out at the moonlit bay. The pale glow streaming through the glass etched his shoulders in steely silver and cast his profile into deep shadow.
"Nick?" She levered herself up on her elbows. "What are you doing?"
He turned his head to look toward the bed. "I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"About what happens at the end of the summer."
She did not move. She did not even breathe. "This isn't The Talk, is it? Because if you're trying to sneak it in now-"
"It's not The Talk," he said, his voice roughening abruptly.
She stared at him. "Are you angry?"
"Maybe. Yeah. I think so. I'm trying to have a rational discussion here and you're throwing that crap about The Talk in my face."
He was angry, all right. Fair enough. She was rapidly losing her temper, too.
"Okay, sorry," she said stiffly. "I just wanted to be sure you weren't going to try to deliver that stupid talk now. Because it's much too late."
He did not move for a few seconds. Then he came away from the window and walked back to the bed to stand looking down at her.
"Too late?" he repeated neutrally.
"Whether you like it or not, we are involved in a relationship. It may not work out for a variety of reasons, but I'll be damned if I'll let you put some arbitrary limit on it."
"There seems to be some confusion here," he said coldly. "You're accusing me of trying to specify the time and date when this thing between us ends, but I'm not the one who keeps talking about leaving Eclipse Bay in a few weeks."
She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it quickly.
Okay, he had a point.
She cleared her throat. "That's different."
"Like hell."
She glowered. "I have to be pragmatic. I've got a business to sell. That takes time and planning. And then there's the move. A person can't make those sorts of arrangements on a last-minute basis."
He put one knee on the tumbled bedding. "You're the one who's running scared here."
"That's not true."
"Hell, maybe we've both been running scared for a while." He came down on top of her, pushing her back onto the pillows. "But I think it's time we both stopped."
"You do?"
"If you want to sleep with me, lady, you're going to have to take a few chances."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah."
"What about you?" she managed. "Are you willing to take a few risks, too?"
His smile was slow and enigmatic in the shadows. His eyes had never been more dangerous. Or promised so much.
"I've been taking chances since the day I met you," he said. "Want to know why I didn't give you The Talk back at the beginning of this affair?"
"Yes."
"I forgot about it, that's why. Never even crossed my mind to give you The Talk." He brushed his mouth across hers. "You see? Taking chances."
"Oh."
He bent his head again and put his mouth to her throat. She felt the edge of his teeth against her skin and excitement stormed through her. She wrapped her arms around him and stopped thinking about the end of summer.
Chapter 20
Gail rushed through the door of the gallery shortly after ten-thirty the next morning. "You won't believe this."
"What's that?" Octavia came around the corner of one of the display panels and stopped, staring in amazement. "You're right. I don't believe it. Good grief, what happened? You've got Very Big Hair."
"What? Oh, yeah, my hair." Gail grimaced and put up a hand to touch the crisply starched mountain of hair on top of her head. "You owe me for this, boss. Big time."
Octavia shook her head slowly in disbelief. She could not get over her hair. "That's amazing."
"Carla wanted to color it, too, but I drew the line at that."
"Let me guess. Blonde?"
"Probably. I didn't get into a discussion of shades. I told her I needed to think about such a major move." Gail waved that aside. "But that's not important. What's important here is what I heard while I was trapped in the chair."
"Ah, yes." Octavia propped a scene of Hidden Cove at dawn against the panel. "Your undercover assignment. I almost forgot. Well?"
Gail drew herself up proudly. "Laugh if you will, but I found out something you really ought to know."
Octavia reached up to remove a picture of the marina from a panel. "Okay, Madam Spy. What did you find out at the beauty shop?"
Gail leaned against the counter and examined her nails. "Not much."
"I'm not surprised." She set the marina scene aside and hoisted the picture of Hidden Cove.
"Just two tiny little snippets of information that you might find interesting."
Octavia hung the Hidden Cove picture on the panel in the space that had been previously occupied by the painting of the marina. "And those two tiny little snippets would be?"
"Well, for starters, I found out what caused the big fight at the Total Eclipse last night."
"It was a bar brawl." Octavia stepped back to study the position of the picture she had just hung. "I have it on excellent authority that such events are random acts of nature. They don't need a cause."
"This one apparently had a very specific cause," Gail murmured dryly.
"Really?" Octavia made a tiny adjustment to the frame. "And what was it?"
"You."
Octavia's fingers stilled on the frame. "Someone said that I was the cause?"
"Actually, everyone is saying it this morning."
Octavia turned slowly. "That's very irritating."
"Irritating? Is that the best you can do? I expected a more forceful reaction."
"Well, it's also extremely annoying and a complete misrepresentation of the facts."
Gail slumped back against the counter. "I don't believe it. I am doomed to go through a Very Big Hair day and all you can say is that the information I brought back from my mission is irritating, annoying, and a misrepresentation of the facts?"
Jeremy came through the open door of the gallery. He had three cups of coffee cradled in the wedge formed by his hands.
"What's irritating, annoying, and a misrepresentation of the facts?" He stopped abruptly, staring at Gail. "Oh, jeez. I see what you mean. They really did a number on you down at the beauty shop, didn't they? I hope the information you got was worth the torture you had to go through to get it."
"Unfortunately the torture has only begun." Gail sighed in exasperation. "I have to live with this hair for the rest of the day. But for the record, the information I picked up is downright fascinating."
"I sure hope so. Any news on the Upsall?"
"Unfortunately, last night's excitement dominated the conversation. No one was talking about anything else this morning." She studied him as he came toward the counter. "Good heavens, you've got a shiner."
"I've already looked in a mirror today." Jeremy put the cups down beside her. "Tell me something I don't know."
"It's from the brawl last night, isn't it?" Gail stepped closer, concern darkening her expression. "I knew you were at the Total Eclipse with Nick, but I didn't realize you got hurt. Have you seen a doctor?"
"I don't need a doctor. I'm okay." He peeled the lids off the coffee cups. "Here you go, sugar and cream."
"Thanks." She took the cup from him without glancing at it, still studying his black eye with a troubled air. "Did you put ice on it?"
"For a while. Don't worry about it. Looks a lot worse than it is." Jeremy handed the second cup to Octavia. "Cream, right?"
"Yes. Thank you." She took the cup in both hands and stared at his bruised face. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm sure." He chuckled. "You oughta see the other guy."
"What other guy?" she asked swiftly.
"Nick. I've got a hunch he looks a lot worse than I do this morning. He was in the middle of most of the action last night, as I recall. Just my bad luck to be standing around in the vicinity when it all went down. Yeah, I expect old Nick has a couple of beautiful shiners this morning."
Octavia concentrated on removing the lid from her cup. She became aware of an acute silence. When she looked up she saw that both Gail and Jeremy were watching her with rapt attention.
"Something wrong?" she asked politely.
"Uh, no.
" Jeremy raised his brows. "Just wondered why you weren't a little more concerned about Nick, that's all."
"He looked fine last night when I saw him outside the police station."
"I looked okay last night, too. Bruises take a while to color up. I figure he's probably a real mess today."
"He's not," she said shortly.
"You're sure?"
"I saw him earlier." Octavia dropped the lid into the trash bin.
"Earlier," Jeremy repeated. "That would be earlier this morning?"
"Yes." She took a tentative sip of the coffee. It was still a little too hot for comfort. She blew on the surface of the liquid a few times.
"Precisely how early this morning would that be?" Gail asked with great interest.
"I don't recall the exact time. Why? Is it important?"
"Could be." Gail exchanged glances with Jeremy. "Especially if it was, oh, say sometime around dawn or thereabouts."
"That would be critical," Jeremy agreed.
"And it would confirm the second tidbit of information I got this morning," Gail added smoothly.
Octavia peered at each of them in turn. "Am I missing something here?"
"You can tell us, honey," Gail answered. "We're your friends."
"Sure," Jeremy said. "You can tell us everything."
"Out with it," Gail said. "We're on pins and needles here. The suspense is killing us. Did Hardhearted Harte really spend the whole night with you last night? Was he actually there for breakfast? Did you or did you not break the curse?"
Too late Octavia recalled the second part of the Nick Harte legend. He always leaves before dawn. She felt herself turn red. "I really don't think that's any of your business."
"Oh, gosh," Gail said. "Both of the rumors I heard at the beauty shop are true. Nick got into that brawl because of you and then he spent the night with you. You've done it. You've broken the curse on Hardhearted Harte."
Octavia choked on a mouthful of coffee. She sputtered and dabbed madly at her lips. "That's what they're saying at the beauty shop?"
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