Tidewater Lover

by Janet Dailey

  "You should have napped, too, instead of watching me," she said, sitting upright.

  "Maybe," he conceded, "but I wanted to be here when you woke up."

  It seemed a curious reason. "Why?"

  "Because I wanted to apologize for last night."

  "Oh." His statement suddenly made her uneasy, especially with that dark blue gaze watching her so intently through the narrowed slit of his lashes.

  She walked to the balcony railing, wishing Cole had pretended last night had never happened rather than alluding to it on their first real meeting. At the same instant, she realized that she had escaped to the beach in the morning before he had awakened to avoid this confrontation after the events of last night.

  Footsteps indicated his approach and she tensed herself, her heart beating as rapidly as a hummingbird's wings. Cole stopped directly behind her and she could feel the disturbing touch of his gaze.

  "Aren't you going to accept my apology?" he questioned.

  "For what?" She shrugged nervously. "Nothing happened."

  "Not for lack of intention," he said in a gently mocking voice.

  Lacey was flustered. All her poise was gone and she felt as skittish as a schoolgirl. What had happened to all her maturity, her confidence to handle any kind of a situation? What power did Cole have to reduce her to a quivering mass of nerves?

  His hands curled lightly on her shoulders to turn her around. She stared at his shirt collar, the top two buttons unfastened, giving her a glimpse of his bare chest. It was just about as unnerving as gazing into his magnetic blue eyes.

  He crooked a finger under her chin to lift her head. "I knew you'd be a temptation from the first night when we made our agreement, but I thought I could handle it." He paused, frowning at the agitation darkening her brown eyes. "I was tired and irritable last night. And we'd argued over Bowman —"

  "Cole, please," Lacey interrupted tightly, "I don't want to dissect all the events and emotions that led up to last night. Exposing them to daylight doesn't change anything. Don't do this to me."

  "Don't do this to you?" He laughed without humor. "What about what you do to me?"

  Seemingly of their own volition, his hands began lightly rubbing her shoulders and upper arms in what amounted to a circular caress, with Cole completely unconscious of what he was doing. It produced a bone-melting sensation and Lacey knew just how dangerous that was. But she seemed powerless to stop it.

  "Do you know how I felt when you drove so recklessly away from here yesterday?" His voice lowered to an intimately husky pitch, vaguely fierce and demanding. "Or when I found out that you weren't with Bowman? Do you know what it was like waiting for you to come home last night?" His fingers dug briefly into her flesh. "Do you know what it's like going to bed each night and imagining you in the next room in your cute little pajamas?"

  She knew she was a breath away from surrendering to his attraction. "Then leave. Move out," she challenged in desperation rather than let her senses lead her down the garden path of temptation.

  "And worry about you being here by yourself at the mercy of vandals and burglars?" Cole argued. "That would be going from the frying pan to the fire. I'd be trading cold showers for ulcers."

  "I suppose you want me to move out, then," she said stiffly.

  "It would solve things."

  "Would it?" she countered with a funny ache in her throat.

  "I don't know …" Cole sighed heavily, releasing her to turn away. Raking his fingers roughly through his hair, he let his hand rest on the back of his head, rubbing the tight cords in his neck.

  "Good, because I'm not moving out," she declared, even though every ounce of logic in her mind cried out that's what she should do. "If you'll excuse me —" she started for the door to the house "— I'll see what there is for dinner tonight."

  "No!" Cole spur around, the savage bite in his voice stopping her. "We'll eat out tonight."

  She hesitated for only a split second. "You can eat out if you want. I'll fix something here for myself."

  She had refused his invitation, finding the prospect of going out with him on what would seem like a date as unsettling as staying in the house alone with him for the evening.

  "Dammit, Lacey," he muttered, "I thought I'd made myself clear. I'm not letting you stay in this house alone at night. It's bad enough that you're by yourself in the daytime."

  "You're not letting me!" Lacey flared at his arrogant statement.

  "That's right, I'm not letting you," he repeated forcefully. "And you can argue about that for as long as you like, but either we both go or we both stay. That is the way it's going to be. If you're sensible, you'll agree to go out to dinner with me so we can get out of this house and be among some people."

  Their eyes locked in a clashing, silent duel that lasted for several explosive seconds before Cole challenged, "Which is it going to be?"

  There wasn't really any choice. "Give me a few minutes to change clothes," Lacey agreed grudgingly.

  "Fine." The roughness hadn't completely left his tone. "We'll go somewhere for a before-dinner cocktail first," he told her.

  It was only after they had left the cocktail lounge for the restaurant that the tension between them began to ease. They were seated by the hostess at a table with a view of the ocean, outside spotlights directed at the rolling whitecaps of the surf.

  "What looks good to you?" Cole asked, glancing up from his menu to Lacey.

  "I'm trying to decide whether to have the deviled crab or the steamed blue crab," she answered, nibbling thoughtfully at her lower lip.

  "Have both," he offered as an alternative.

  "Are you kidding? I'd be so full I couldn't move. You'd have to carry me out of here," she joked, dismissing his suggestion.

  "It wouldn't be the first time I've carried you somewhere," he reminded her quietly.

  The way he was looking at her made her glow warm all over. She immediately stared at her menu, aware of his soft, almost silent chuckle. She closed the menu and set it on the table in front of her.

  "I'll have the steamed crab," she decided quickly in an effort to divert the subject.

  The waiter appeared at Cole's left. "The steamed blue crab for each of us," he ordered. "And a wine list, please."

  When the waiter left, a silence ensued. Lacey nervously fingered the prongs of her fork, unable to think of any small talk, which had carried the first part of the evening. Cole reached out, covering her hand completely with his own to still its nervous fidgeting.

  "I was only teasing you," he offered in apology, "when I reminded you about last night."

  "I know, but it's nothing to joke about."

  She glanced up and found she was unable to look away from his compelling gaze. Her heart turned over, its crazy flip-flop not helping the tingling warmth shooting up her arm from his hand.

  "Well, well, well," a male voice declared mockingly from behind Lacey. "You two have finally ventured out of your little love nest!"

  As Lacey tried to pull her hand free of Cole's, his fingers tightened around it, refusing to let her go. His gaze flicked to the voice.

  "Hello, Vic." A bland mask slipped into place to conceal his expression.

  At that moment the handsome blond-haired man stepped into Lacey's view. Cole's use of the man's name had already jogged her memory into placing the voice as that of Monica's brother.

  "Hello, Cole." He nodded first to him, then turned his cynically distant smile to Lacey. "We meet again, Lacey Andrews."

  "Hello, Mr. Hamilton." She returned his greeting with deliberate formality, not liking his spoiled, arrogant attitude any more now than she had at their first meeting.

  "Vic," he corrected, and widened his smile, which didn't make it any warmer or more charming. "My sister has been gnashing her teeth over you all week. Really, Cole —" he turned his attention away from Lacey "— I think you could have let her down a little more gently."

  "I've been letting her down gently for two years," Cole rep
lied dryly. "It's time she realized it."

  "I think she's become convinced that you'll be the master in any marriage," Vic commented absently. "Monica always has been very liberal, willing to forgive you for your little diversions — your pillow friends." He glanced pointedly at Lacey, who was bristling half in anger and half in embarrassment.

  Cole's mouth twisted wryly. "Is that what Monica said?"

  "She did suggest that I might pass the message on if I happened to run into you," Vic admitted smoothly.

  "You've delivered it," Cole stated with apparent indifference.

  "Now you want me to run along and leave you alone, is that it?" Vic shrugged. "Very well. Enjoy your evening."

  When he had retreated out of hearing, Lacey sputtered indignantly, "Why didn't you correct him? He isn't Monica."

  An eyebrow was arched mockingly. "Correct him about your being my pillow friend?' Would you have me deny that we've slept together?"

  "You know it was perfectly innocent," she retorted.

  Releasing her hand, he leaned back in his chair, studying her thoughtfully and just a little bit coolly. "You're very anxious to deny any relationship between us whenever Vic has been around. Are you attracted to him?"

  "Of course not!" Lacey denied the allegation vigorously.

  "The Hamiltons are very wealthy, and by some people's standards, Vic could be classified as a very handsome man. He'd be quite a catch in matrimonial circles."

  "I'm sure the same could be said for Monica, couldn't it?" she argued.

  "It could," he agreed. "But we aren't talking about Monica."

  "I'm not talking about Vic, but maybe you should take his advice and get Monica's forgiveness. Then the two of you can get back together."

  His mouth thinned. "You do enjoy starting arguments, don't you, Lacey?"

  "I don't start them. You do."

  "Let's end this one by dropping the subject," he suggested briskly.

  "Gladly," Lacey agreed.

  The waiter arrived with their dinner, negating the need for immediate conversation to fill the awkward silence. With good food and a glass of New York wine, the silence was soon reduced to a companionable level.

  "How is the project coming?" Lacey inquired, using her knife to pry off the apron flap on the underside of the crab.

  "Very well. Didn't Bowman mention that the men were making up for lost time?" Cole asked idly.

  "No." With the top shell discarded, Lacey broke off the toothed claws and set them aside to free the meat from them later. "He didn't mention it at all."

  "Considering the lost time that's been made up, I would have thought he would have been bragging about it." There was nothing derogatory in his comment.

  "Mike doesn't brag about his work," Lacey stated. "He considers it his duty to do the best that he can. He never lets a problem become an excuse. He tries to solve it, which is why it was so unfair when you blamed him for the delays on your project."

  Cole ignored the last red flag remark. "Bowman mentioned the two of you had been discussing business, so I presumed he was referring to the progress on the project. What were you talking about, or am I treading on forbidden ground with that question?" Amusement glittered faintly in the look he gave her.

  Lacey hesitated, her knife poised to slice lengthwise through the center of the crab, now broken in half. "When did you ask Mike what we had been discussing?"

  "When you were in your room, changing clothes to leave with him."

  "And he told you we were talking about business?"

  "Yes. At the time I found it very difficult to believe. There aren't many men I know, who can hold an attractive woman in their arms and talk business," Cole admitted.

  "And you still find it difficult to believe, don't you?" she challenged.

  "With you, I'm learning that anything is possible." The laugh lines around his eyes deepened, but his mouth didn't smile. "Were you talking business?"

  "We were talking about the girl who's replaced me while I'm on vacation," she explained. "Mechanically Donna is an excellent secretary, but her personality can be very irritating."

  "I've talked to her a couple of times." Cole nodded without elaborating any further.

  "Then you understand what Mike has been going through this last week?" A smile teased the corners of her mouth.

  "And sympathize," he added dryly. "But that doesn't explain why he was dangling you over the railing."

  "Oh, that." Lacey didn't attempt to hide her smile this time. "I was teasing him. I told him I was considering handing in my notice and suggesting Donna as my replacement. He was threatening murder if I did."

  "Are you thinking of quitting?"

  She dug out a forkful of the exposed crab meat, shaking her head. "No, I like my job."

  "What about when you get married? Will you still work?" Cole was slicing his crab, not even glancing up as he asked the question.

  It was difficult to make a casual response. If anyone else had asked, she could have laughed away the question, but she was more than half in love with Cole right now. Marriage became a subject that sent quivers down her spine.

  "More than likely I'd have to keep working after I married to make ends meet," she answered, self-consciously avoiding looking at Cole when she spoke.

  "Would you mind?"

  "No. As I said, I like my job and I don't think a lot of idle time would suit me. I like to be doing constructive and challenging things." That she could answer truthfully and without hesitation.

  "What if your husband didn't want you to work? What if he wanted you at home?" Cole lifted his wine glass, flicking a glance at her over the rim.

  "We'd probably have an argument. Are you one of those old-fashioned men who don't approve of working wives?" Lacey asked, suddenly curious.

  "I don't mind if it's other men's wives that are working, but I'm not certain how I would react if it were my own wife." Cole smiled, and it had a devastating effect on Lacey's senses. "When we have children, I suppose I would insist she be home with them, at least when they're small."

  "When the children are little, I would want to be home with them," Lacey agreed readily.

  "Do you mean we've found something else we can agree on besides sharing the same house?" Cole declared with mock astonishment, a wicked glint in his indigo blue eyes. "Remarkable," he drawled, and Lacey laughed.

  Their earlier disagreement over Vic and Monica Hamilton was forgotten. They seemed to find a surfeit of things to talk about without becoming embroiled in any controversy.

  All too soon, it seemed, Cole was driving the car into the garage. In truth, they had lingered over dessert, then coffee, until it was nearly ten.

  Concealing a sigh of regret that the evening was coming to a close, Lacey stepped out of the car, instinctively taking the door key from her purse. Both stepped forward at the same time to unlock the connecting door, bumping into each other.

  "Allow me," Cole offered with a mocking inclination of his head.

  "By all means," she agreed, replacing the key in her purse.

  In the lower entrance hall he paused to lock the door behind him while she slowly began to climb the steps. She was reluctant to have the evening end so soon.

  "Shall I —" she began.

  "Let's make a pact," Cole interrupted, a step behind her on the stairs. "You don't offer to make coffee or a nightcap and I won't suggest showing you my etchings."

  "All right," Lacey agreed without enthusiasm.

  She knew exactly why he had said that. They were back in the house again, and its privacy and isolation invited an intimacy they were both trying to avoid.

  His hand lightly took hold of her elbow, his touch disquietingly impersonal, and guided her across the living room to the hall leading to the bedrooms. As they started down the hall, Lacey wanted to protest that she wasn't sleepy, but she knew it wasn't wise and kept silent.

  At the closed door of her bedroom they stopped, and Lacey turned hesitantly toward him. An elemental tension
crackled between them.

  "Do you know this is the first time I've escorted a girl directly to her bedroom door to say good night?" Cole joked wryly.

  "It's a first for me, too." Lacey tried to respond in the same vein, but her voice sounded husky and as unnerved by his nearness as she felt.

  His large palm cupped the side of her face in a caress that was gentle rather than arousing. "You'd better go straight to bed," he said. "After these last couple of days, you need a good night's sleep."

  Something in the way he said it made her ask, "What about you? Aren't you going to bed right away?"

  "No." There was a short negative shake of his head. "I thought I'd take a walk along the beach before turning in."

  "But I —" Lacey started to suggest that she might go along, but his thumb pressed her lips into silence.

  "No," he refused abruptly, his gaze sliding to her mouth. "I know what I'm doing, Lacey."

  Her heart was skipping beats all over the place and her brown eyes were round and luminous. She nodded briefly her agreement and anger sparkled darkly in his eyes.

  "Don't be so damned meek," Cole growled. "It doesn't suit you."

  "I —" Lacey started to defend her action.

  "Just shut up," he interrupted, and she detected the faint groan in his throat before he let his mouth replace the thumb that had been pressed against her lips.

  The hard, searing kiss flamed through her as his arms crushed her against his male length. The lean warmth of his body added to the fire already raging inside her. The fierce, sensual masculinity about him, almost tangible, was irresistible to her feminine core.

  Her lips parted under the bruising urgency of his mouth, permitting him to deepen the kiss with shattering expertise. She felt his tenseness, his muscles like coiled springs in an effort to keep control, while she herself had none. But she had long ago realized that in Cole's arms she lost her inhibition, and that made his touch doubly dangerous.

  Abruptly he broke off the kiss, lifting his head. A muscle twitched convulsively along his powerful jaw as he stared grimly into her dazed, love-softened face. He breathed in deeply and pivoted away.

  "Good night, Lacey," he ordered.

  For an instant she was incapable of speech. "Good night," she answered finally, but he was already striding into the living room, not glancing back when she spoke.