Tidewater Lover

by Janet Dailey

  "Strangely enough —" a furrow made a vertical crease between his brows "— I think I would find the house empty if you left."

  His statement hovered in the air, electrifying her. She had difficulty trying to breathe and there was an odd flattering in the pit of her stomach.

  The hand on her shoulder began, almost imperceptibly, to exert pressure to draw her closer as his gaze slid to her lips. Caught in his spell, it didn't occur to her to resist, although Cole gave her the opportunity. His boldly defined mouth slowly descended to hers.

  With a firmness absent of demand, he explored every curve of her full, soft lips. His hand lay along the side of her neck, his thumb resting against the tiny pulse that was racing madly. The blood tingled through her veins, setting every nerve alert.

  He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, the scent of tobacco in the warm breath that caressed her skin. "Strawberry, isn't it?" he murmured huskily.

  "What?" Lacey opened her eyes weakly and was immediately overcome by the sensation that she could drown in his indigo eyes.

  "Your lipstick. It's strawberry, isn't it?" Cole repeated softly, and tasted her trembling lower lip.

  "Yes," she whispered, and unconsciously swayed toward him.

  "I always did have a weakness for strawberry." It was an absent comment. Lacey doubted if Cole was aware that he had said it aloud.

  Then his mouth opened moistly over hers, devouring its ripeness as his strong fingers curled into the back of her neck, tilting her head backward to more fully receive his burning kiss. His other arm reached for her waist and Lacey pliantly let herself be arched against his hard, muscled length.

  With consumate skill, Cole demanded a response and she gave it quite naturally. Her fingers spread over his chest to slide around his neck into the thickness of his dark hair. A melting sensuality seemed to flow through her limbs as his mouth faultlessly continued its task of arousal until her hunger became an exquisite pain.

  The light breeze from the ocean cooled her heated skin, but it couldn't abate the molten fire spreading through her veins. His experience far outstripped hers and she gloried in it, finding a heady exultation in the heights of abandoned passion.

  The embrace that had begun so slowly ended abruptly with Cole pushing her an arm's length away. Dazed by the unexpected rejection, Lacey looked at him with inviting, luminously brown eyes. She could hear his ragged breathing and quivered at the sound.

  A pained yet wry smile crooked his mouth. "You'll have to forgive me for that, Lacey." His voice was low and roughly controlled.

  "Yes …" But it was more of a question than it was an answer.

  "You're a potent little package and more vulnerable than I realized," he added, exhaling a long breath.

  "So are you," she admitted shakily, still confused. "But I don't see why you should apologize for kissing me. I may have said I was old-fashioned, but I'm not a prude."

  "I wish you were." Cole smiled ruefully.

  "That's an odd thing to say," Lacey murmured. He wasn't making any sense to her.

  "'Is it?" He let go of her arms and she had to stand without his support. Her knees trembled for an instant before they found the necessary strength.

  "I think it is," she insisted.

  "Our agreement isn't even twenty-four hours old and I was on the verge of breaking one of our first ground rules," Cole stated in a mocking tone. "No sex."

  Crimson flamed through her cheeks and just as quickly burned itself out, leaving her complexion unnaturally pale as she acknowledged the truth of his observation. She had lost control of herself for a moment.

  There was no telling for certain just how far she might have let Cole go before she came to her senses. It was a sobering discovery.

  He watched her changing color for a silent minute before he smiled gently. "Good night, Lacey." Turning on his heel, he walked into the house.

  "Good night," Lacey echoed him faintly, and doubted if her voice had been strong enough to carry into the house to him.

  She pivoted back to the ocean view, shivering at the sudden chill that danced over her arms. The fires inside of her were slowly being brought under control.

  She remembered Cole's saying that the situation between them wouldn't get out of hand unless they permitted it. They had both come dangerously close to it. Cole had been the first to realize it, but it was just hitting Lacey now.

  Five

  * * *

  The buzz of the alarm clock hammered at her eardrums, and with a groan, Lacey rolled onto her side. She must have set the clock last night out of habit.

  Her fumbling hand reached out for the knob to switch it off, only to discover the alarm wasn't turned on. Still the buzzing sound continued to drone its wake-up call.

  Frowning, Lacey forced her eyes open. It was several seconds before she realized that the sound was coming from Cole's bedroom. It was his alarm clock she was hearing. She grabbed the second pillow and crushed it over her ears, trying to drown out the sound, but it continued with monotonous persistence.

  "Oh, why don't you wake up and turn that darn thing off?" she moaned into the pillow. But the buzzing didn't stop. "I'll never get back to sleep!"

  Angrily she tossed the pillow away and stumbled out of bed. She walked over to pound on the bedroom wall, remembering too late that the bathroom was between the two guest rooms. Grabbing her housecoat, she shrugged into it as she stalked into the hallway to Cole's door.

  She hammered on it with her fist. "Shut that alarm off!" It kept right on buzzing. "Cole!"

  There was an answering squeak of the bedsprings, then blissful silence. Sighing, Lacey hurried back into her own room and crawled under the covers, housecoat and all. As she closed her eyes, she heard his door open and the firm padding of his bare feet in the hall.

  The bathroom door opened and closed. A few seconds later the shower was turned on full force, the hammering of its spray sounding as loud and as nerve-racking as the alarm clock.

  "I want to go to sleep," Lacey moaned in self-pity.

  Within a few short minutes, another sound joined that of the rushing water in the shower. "Oh, no," she groaned, "he isn't!" She listened. "He is. He's singing in the shower. That does it!"

  The bedclothes were thrown aside again. It was absolutely pointless to try to go back to sleep now. She stalked angrily into the kitchen, opening and slamming the refrigerator door to get some orange juice and repeating the procedure when she put it back.

  While she sipped at her juice, she readied the percolator to make coffee, perversely hoping that when she filled the pot with cold water, Cole would get scalded with hot water in the shower. After plugging the pot in, she hopped onto the tall stool at the kitchen's counter bar.

  A quarter of an hour later, the coffee pot was emitting its last sighing pop when Cole walked in from the living room. A cigarette was dangling from his mouth while his hands were completing the knot of his tie. He saw Lacey sitting at the counter and frowned.

  "I thought you were going to sleep late this morning," he said. "What are you doing up?"

  "It takes gall to ask that question," Lacey declared with an exasperated look.

  Cole grimaced with mocking ruefulness. "My alarm clock woke you up, did it?"

  "Your alarm clock, followed by the shower and your stunning serenade," she answered caustically, enumerating the causes.

  He paused beside the counter to rest his cigarette in the ashtray. There was a roguish glint in his blue eyes. "The strawberry is green and tart this morning, isn't it?"

  "You would be, too, if it were the other way around." But her tone was less sharp.

  "Is there any juice?"

  "In the refrigerator. And there's coffee made, too," Lacey added.

  He glanced at her empty juice glass. "Shall I pour you a cup of coffee?" he asked as he walked around the counter.

  "Might as well," she sighed. After all, she was already awake and the freshly perked coffee had a decidedly pleasing aroma.

&nb
sp; First Cole poured himself a small glass of orange juice from the refrigerator and downed it before taking two cups from the cupboard. He filled them and set them side by side on the counter, then walked around it to join Lacey.

  He fingered the knot of his tie and muttered, "It isn't straight, is it?"

  "No," Lacey admitted. When he started to try to redo it by touch alone, she said, "Here, let me." Cole didn't argue.

  When she was finished, he inspected it with his hand, his eyebrow twisting in surprised approval. "That's very good. Where did you learn that?"

  "I have a father and two brothers," she answered. "And they're all thumbs when it comes to tying ties."

  "No sisters?" Cole sipped at his coffee, seemingly impervious to its burning temperature.

  "None. Your cigarette is in the ashtray," she reminded him as the smoke wafted into her eyes.

  He reached over and snubbed it out. "I have two sisters, both married and each with her own brood of little ones." He took another drink of his coffee.

  "Neither of my brothers is married yet." Lacey tried her coffee and decided to wait until it had cooled more.

  "Your parents must be getting anxious for grandchildren."

  "I don't know …" She smiled faintly. "My mother claims she's too young to be a grandmother. She certainly looks too young."

  Cole glanced at the gold watch on his wrist and gulped down the rest of his coffee. "I'm late," he declared grimly.

  Hesitating beside her stool, he crooked a finger under her chin. "I'm sorry for waking you up this morning."

  The devastating smile he gave her was Lacey's undoing. She found she could not summon any anger at the way he had deprived her of a few extra hours' sleep. But she wouldn't go so far as to admit that.

  "I suppose I shouldn't get into the habit of sleeping late anyway," she said instead.

  Before she could guess his intention, he bent down and kissed her firmly. "You know this could become a habit?" A dancing light twinkled in his eyes.

  Lacey wished her heart would stop beating so erratically. "You're forgetting the ground rules," she pointed out tersely.

  "Oh?" Cole said it as if he'd forgotten about them, but the gleam in his eyes said differently. "That's right, I had."

  The house seemed empty when he left.

  It was eight-thirty-one that evening when Cole's car drove into the garage. Lacey knew exactly because she had been glancing at the clock nearly every five minutes since seven. But she steeled herself to react calmly and casually when he entered the living room. He looked haggard and exhausted, his briefcase in hand.

  "Rough day?" Lacey questioned with pretended idleness. She glanced up from the fashion magazine she was supposedly reading.

  "More or less," he nodded, and sat down in the other sofa.

  "Have you eaten?"

  "What?" Cole looked at her blankly before her question registered. "Oh, yes, I stopped on the way."

  Lacey thought of the dinner she had kept warming in the oven after having eaten her portion, but said nothing. Cole opened his briefcase and took out a sheaf of legal-looking documents.

  It was on the tip of Lacey's tongue to suggest that he should relax instead of doing more work, but she bit it into silence with a firm reminder that it was none of her business if he worked himself to death.

  For all the notice he paid to her the rest of the evening, she could have been another throw pillow on the sofa. She tried to convince herself that she didn't care, but she knew it wasn't true.

  Finally, at half-past ten, she tossed the magazine onto the table and rose. Cole glanced up with a questioning frown.

  "It's late. I'm going to turn in," she said stiffly. "Good night."

  "Good night," he returned indifferently, and looked back at his papers.

  Pressing her lips tightly together, Lacey pivoted sharply. Tears were stinging her eyes and there was a bitter taste in her mouth.

  "Oh, by the way," Cole spoke up and she glanced quickly back to him, "the toilets showed up today."

  "They did?"

  "It seems they've been in the city for the last two weeks — at the wrong warehouse," he replied with thinly disguised impatience. "It's a pity no one bothered to check on them before."

  Anger simmered near the surface as Lacey read implied criticism of her in the comment, but Cole's attention was again riveted to his papers. She checked her biting reply, wondering if he even remembered that she worked for Mike Bowman. Holding her head stiffly erect, she walked down the hallway to her bedroom.

  The next two days were a repeat of Monday, with Lacey waking at the buzz of Cole's alarm and Cole returning late in the evening to bury himself in paperwork. Except for the early mornings and late evenings, Lacey could have been staying at the house by herself, since she was either alone or left alone.

  In the mornings she filled her time swimming in the ocean and strolling on the beach. The afternoons she would relax on the shaded balcony and read. Meals were a haphazard affair. She didn't repeat the mistake of the first night by keeping food warm for Cole. Lacey tried not to admit it, but her days were spent waiting for Cole to return.

  On Thursday evening she went to bed as usual some time after ten, leaving Cole in the living room with his papers She fell asleep almost instantly, but it was a restless, fitful sleep that finally wakened her shortly after midnight.

  Her mouth was all woolly and dry. She slid out of bed and padded sleepily to her door. As she opened it, the artificial light glared harshly to momentarily blind her.

  Shielding her eyes with her hand, she started to grope for the switch to turn off the hall light that Cole had left burning, but the whisper of papers being shuffled in the living room halted her hand.

  She walked into the living room, her bare feet making little sound, her eyes still squinting at the unaccustomed light. Cole was sitting on the sofa where she had left him hours ago, going over his papers and making voluminous notes on a long yellow tablet.

  "Haven't you gone to bed yet?" she demanded accusingly in a voice husky with sleep. "It's after midnight."

  Cole glanced up sharply, momentarily startled out of his concentrations. One eyebrow twisted into a frown as he looked from Lacey to the gold watch gleaming below the rolled-up cuff of his white sleeve. His mouth thinned briefly before he bent over his papers again.

  "I'm almost done," he stated, then asked absently, "What are you doing up?"

  "I was thirsty," she retorted, and resumed her path to the kitchen, doubting that he had even heard her answer.

  As she passed by the sofa, Cole rubbed the back of his neck and arched his shoulders in a tired stretch. "Damn, but I'm tired," he murmured to no one in particular.

  "You could go to bed," she called back to him as she entered the kitchen, walked to the sink, and turned on the cold water tap. Perversely, she didn't feel any sympathy for him. If he was tired, the solution was simple. Since he didn't choose to make it, she wasn't going to waste words feeling sorry for him.

  "I have to get this done."

  Opening the cupboard door, she took out a glass. "Didn't you ever read Gone with the Wind? 'Tomorrow is another day.'"

  "I need to have this first thing in the morning," he answered curtly.

  "I suppose the world will come to an end if you don't," Lacey taunted.

  After filling the glass with water, she started to raise it to her lips and, turning slightly, discovered that Cole had followed her into the kitchen. The tiredly etched corners of his mouth twisted briefly into a smile at her gibe, but he made no reply to it.

  "Is there any coffee?" he asked instead.

  She glanced at the percolator, noticing the cord unplugged from the socket. "If there is, it's cold."

  "We have instant coffee, don't we?" Cole opened the cupboard door nearest him.

  "In here." She gestured to the cupboard above her head without offering to get it for him.

  Lacey did move to one side to avoid getting banged in the head when he opened it. Sip
ping at her water, she watched him take the jar down and spoon some dark crystals into a cup.

  She became fascinated by his hands, strong and tanned, and the scattering of bronze hair curling on the portion of his arm exposed by the rolled-up sleeve. Her pulse fluttered, faintly disturbed. She took a quick swallow of water in an effort to forget his unsettling nearness.

  "Aren't you going to heat some water?" she chided, certain he had overlooked it in his tiredness.

  "It would take too much time." He stepped around her to turn on the tap. "The hot water from the tap will be good enough."

  He let the water run until steam was rising from the sink, then ran it in his cup to fill it. He leaned a hip against the counter near Lacey as if too tired to support himself. Brushing a hand over his mouth and chin, he reached for a spoon to stir his coffee, but it slipped out of his fingers and clattered to the tiled floor.

  As she stooped quickly to retrieve it, Lacey's fingers touched the handle at the same time that Cole took hold of the curve of the spoon.

  They straightened together, each holding onto the spoon, an elemental tension coursing through Lacey. There was a velvet quality to the midnight blue of his eyes that did little to slow the sudden acceleration of her pulse.

  "That was clumsy of me," he chided himself, and Lacey released her hold on the spoon.

  "You're tired." She forced an evenness into her voice. "You should come to bed."

  "Is that an invitation?" Despite the husky amusement running through his voice, there was a thread of seriousness that rocketed Lacey's heart into her throat.

  "You know what I meant." She swirled the water in her glass and took a quick swallow.

  "Mmmm."

  She didn't know whether that meant yes or no, and glanced at Cole for a clearer answer. There was an unnerving darkness in the look he was giving her. It roamed over her face, touching the sleek fur-brown cap of her hair, the wing of an eyebrow, the finely chiseled bone of her cheek and the soft curve of her lips.

  His wandering gaze didn't stop there, but traveled leisurely down the slender column of her golden-tanned neck to dwell on the rounded curve of her breasts. They seemed to swell under the almost physical caress of his eyes, the rosy peaks thrusting against the silklike material of her pajamas.