Summer on the Cape (17 page)

Allie painted until the light was gone, and only then did she realize she’d had no solid food all day. The time had come to finish up for the day, so she cleaned her brushes and took off the paint-smeared shirt. She dropped it on her worktable and turned off the light in the studio.

In the kitchen, she took a leftover beef casserole from the fridge and set it on the counter, to be microwaved later. Then she went into the living room and stood for a long time at the big window, looking out over the ocean.

The sea was calmer; the waves were rolling in smoothly on the shore. Her own mood was calmer, too. The painting had allowed her tumultuous feelings to find their own natural rhythm, and to her surprise, what she now felt was only pure sensation, a sensual response of her whole body that had begun hours before, on the dock, in the moment when Zach’s arms had locked around her, pulling her body back against his, the wind and the rain blanketing them both, his fingers digging into her arms, his ferocious rage, making her weep—

Now, as she looked out over the shimmering water, she knew she was no longer angry at Zach. The painting had taken her anger away, leaving only the memory of him, as though embedded in her skin, in her nerves. Her whole body had not forgotten him, and the feel of his hard body was with her still, in rich, sensual memory, along her arms and down the back of her legs.

* * *

Zach hadn’t forgotten, either. There on the dock, with the storm violent all around them, her hair whipping back against his face in the wind, he had held her in his arms. He had felt her, warm and vibrant as she struggled against the taut line. He had pressed her slim, graceful body hard against his own, her lithe, feminine form forced to mold itself to his as he crouched low to cleat the line. He could not forget. The muscles of his chest, his arms, the insides of his thighs, could not forget the feel of her straining up against him. He could feel himself tightening as he remembered.

He knew that she didn’t understand what it had done to him, seeing her out there, whipped by the storm, trying so helplessly to drag in that big boat. She couldn’t know, of course, what lay behind his terror. And he couldn’t forget how, in his mindless, terrified hands, she had shivered helplessly, as his panic exploded out of him, uncontrollable, making her cry. Of course she hadn’t understood, one slip of her foot on that treacherous surface—oh, God! He couldn’t bear to let his mind go in that direction.

But the feel of her lay along his skin, driving away all other memories. He had thought it would never be this way again. After so many years, he no longer expected that any woman could reach inside him, stir him, make him—all of him—come alive and feel powerful.

It was just as well there was hard, heavy work to be done. He needed these hours to get some control of his churning emotions. Not until evening approached, and the boats were safe and all the harbor damage was repaired, did Zach allow himself to listen, finally, to the insistent message his body’s memory was sending him. He had not forgotten. He could not forget.

Now, at the end of the day, when the harbormaster and the fishermen and everyone else had gone home and the dock was empty and quiet, Zach finally gave himself some time to think. He lowered his long body down onto the dock, sliding down to rest against one of the tall pilings, and looked out over the rain-washed harbor at the sun just disappearing at the horizon, the last rays blazing up over the water.

For a long time, he thought about Allie, and about himself, and about how he’d yelled at her, and about the feel of her in his arms. And he knew, at last, what he had been fighting against since the first moment, weeks ago, when he’d first seen her step off that plane—what he had not allowed himself to know until this morning, when he had slammed that door and left her weeping inside her car.

A big, slow grin gradually spread over his face, deepening the furrows at the sides of his mouth and the sun-etched lines at the corners of his eyes. He was letting himself, finally, realize the truth about himself and Allie Randall, and he knew what he was going to do. He took one slow, deep, deep breath and then another. The grin grew even broader as he unfolded his long legs and stood up. He put his head back and laughed aloud into the quiet, sunset sky. He strode down the floats to the ramp, his stride gradually lengthening until he broke into a run, loping happily up the ramp and along the dock to his truck.

Zach’s decision was clear and certain. He was going to drive up to that house by the beach—his house, damn it!—and he was going to take Allie Randall in his arms again, and this time, he was not going to let her get away from him. This time, there would be no confusion of emotions. He was going to let himself enjoy her—enjoy her, damn it—all of her, all the sweet, graceful, young beauty of her.

He drove the green pickup smoothly, confidently, through the little town and onto the highway. Zach was still grinning broadly as he drove along Route 6.

“I’m going up to that house,” he said aloud, “and—if she’ll have me—I’m going to take that woman to bed!”

* * *

Allie went upstairs and ran a hot bath, adding fragrant bubble lotion. She had finally realized she was exhausted and needed some pampering and some sensual comfort. A good long soak in a bubble bath might soothe the quivering tensions in her nerve endings that Zach had set in motion.

She piled her hair into a thick coil on top of her head and fastened it in place with a big plastic clip. Then she peeled off all her clothes and dropped everything into the clothes hamper. She stepped into the tub and sank down into the luxurious, steaming water, slowly letting the strain ease out of her muscles.

After a while, a delicious sleepiness crept through her and, in an almost dreamy state, she lathered herself with the French soap that was her only really extravagant indulgence. She could feel her skin respond to the sensual combination of smooth soap and rough washcloth, and by the time she had rinsed herself off and stepped out of the tub, she was completely ready for a hot meal and a good night’s sleep.

She patted herself barely dry with one of Adam’s thick towels and wrapped herself up in a big terry cloth robe that hung at the back of the bathroom door. Her hair was still piled up on top of her head, and the strands that had escaped clung damply to the back of her neck. She was just about to brush her hair when she heard the sound of tires coming to a stop on the gravel driveway at the front of the house, and the heavy sound of a truck door being opened and closed.

“He’s here!” she said aloud.

She could not have said what finely tuned sensitivity told her that it was Zach who had just come into her driveway. She was almost down the stairs when she heard knocking on the front door.

When she opened the door, the light behind her glowed warmly on him, revealing him with one upraised arm resting casually against the doorframe, the other hand braced against the opposite side, blocking any exit. In the soft light, he looked steadily into her eyes and a slow smile appeared at his mouth.

His eyes moved slowly, almost lazily, over her damp face and hair, noting the clip that held the thick golden coils and the wet tendrils clinging to her neck. He let his gaze drop down, resting on her bare throat where it disappeared into the soft fold of the thick white robe. Zach was not asking her permission to let his eyes rest wherever he chose.

Before she could speak, he lifted his eyes to hers, his smile broadened.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I was way out of line.” Again, his eyes moved slowly over her face, savoring every feature, and then, again, they dropped to the folds of her robe. “There was no call for me to be so rough with you.”

Aware of her nakedness beneath the soft terry cloth, she brought one hand to her throat, holding the robe closed.

“You scared the hell out of me, Zach. What was that all about?”

She surprised herself by challenging him. Another fight with Zach Eliot was the last thing she wanted now. She understood, suddenly, with crystal clarity, what it was she wanted. She wanted him to hold her again, and she wanted more than that—she wanted much more.

In the dark, his face and his long, lean body were lit only by the light from inside the house but she could see his mouth tense slightly, momentarily, and then ease again.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “You scared me, too, but it doesn’t matter now.”

His hand moved from where it had been braced against the doorframe.

“I’m coming in, Allie.”

He took one step across the threshold, close to her and with a single, slow motion, without asking her permission, he undid the sash of her robe. He slipped his hand inside her loosened robe, around her naked waist, and pulled her toward him.

She didn’t try to stop him. She didn’t want to stop him. Her whole body, her whole being had been hungry for him to come to her just this way. She couldn’t think beyond this moment.

His hands moved inside the soft white robe, his fingers exploring the smooth skin of her back, her hips; drawing her closer. His eyes were on her exposed breast, watching it rise and fall as her breathing deepened and became faster. And then he looked up into her eyes and saw there her willing consent to what he had come here to do.

With his hand at her back, holding her close, and his eyes still fixed on hers, he reached up and pulled the clip from her hair and let her hair fall loosely, damply to her shoulders. The clip dropped from his fingers unheeded and now, at last, he allowed himself the luxury of burying his hand deep into the sensual warmth of her hair.

She made no move to cover herself, to resist him, to prevent what was coming. Zach saw her lips part slightly, and he kissed those soft lips, feeling her breath against his mouth, feeling her back arch slightly toward him. Her eyes closed, and again he kissed her, gently, allowing himself to enjoy the willingness of her mouth.

She was mesmerized. Her arms were loose, relaxed at her sides, all of her was opening and yielding. Until this moment, she had not dared to realize how hungry she was for Zach. But now, with his hand at her back and his mouth on hers, she knew the truth, she knew what she wanted. She wanted everything there could be between them.

He continued to kiss her softly; small, gentle kisses. And when he slipped the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor around her feet, she made no move at all, waiting, watching him as his eyes moved in a long caress over her naked body and her own excitement grew more intense as she saw his pleasure in her. His eyes returned slowly, sensuously, to her face and, smiling, he brushed those ragged, sweet bangs away from her eyes. And then he grinned broadly, his expression happier than she had ever seen it. Abruptly, he bent down and in one smooth gesture he lifted her off the floor, scooping her up high in his arms.

“My God, woman,” he said. “You don’t know how much I want you!”

And Allie put her arms around Zach’s neck and laughed all the way as he carried her naked up the stairs to the bedroom, where he laid her down on the bed, on top of the beautiful, wonderful old quilt.

Chapter Twelve

“M
y God.” He was breathing deeply, the pounding in his chest not yet subsided. “Allie, you don’t know—” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair hanging damp and curly over his forehead, his naked body glistening in the moonlight that filled the room. “I think you’ve bewitched me.”

She lay there in a state of sweet exhaustion, letting the fingers of one languid hand trace the muscled planes and curves of his back.

“And I was thinking you’re the one with secret powers. Never before. . .” She paused. There was no way to say how magical it had been. “I didn’t know—it’s never been like that—”

This was Allie’s first experience of such deep satisfaction and she was now content to rest and savor the delicious, sensuous fatigue that played like soft music all through her.

The quilt was bunched up somewhere near her feet, the pillows were on the floor, and some improbably modest impulse had led her to drag the sheet up over herself, covering part of her body but leaving one leg and her arms exposed. Her bare knee was raised, and Zach reached around and ran his hand from her knee down to her foot, stroking with his fingertips back and forth along her instep. He remembered fondly how he had first admired her feet in her shoes, and he bent his head low to run his tongue along the inside of the curving arch. She jerked her foot away involuntarily.

“You’re tickling me!” She giggled.

“The better to dominate and control you, my dear,” he said, pretending to menace her.

“Is that what you were trying to do, was it? Dominate and control me?” She pretended to be outraged.

“Allie, if you didn’t know what I was trying to do,” Zach said, laughing, “I must have been doing it wrong.”

Allie stretched her arms luxuriously across the bed, and then again ran her hand down his marvelous back, letting her fingertips feel the steely hardness under the smooth skin. “No, Zach, You weren’t doing it wrong. You got it just right.”

“I thought so, too,” he said playfully. “Seemed right to me.” He kissed her lips lightly. “But you, Allie, I don’t think you’d be easy to control.” There flashed before him the memory of her tearing out of the school’s parking lot, leaving him roaring helplessly, like a fool, in the pouring rain. Had it been only last night?

He sat up straight, looking down at this lovely woman, bathed in moonlight, stretched out so lusciously in the bed. He maintained his playful expression but there was an edge of seriousness to his words as he explored her eyes.

“No, I don’t think you’d be easy to control.”

“Is that what you’d like to do, Zach? Control me?” Now her expression, too, became serious, and she felt herself grow wary.

“Not at all, Allie.” Zach laughed, trying to restore her easy mood, hoping to erase that disturbing cloud of defensiveness that he had seen come over her beautiful face. “Anyway, it couldn’t be done. You’re too obstinate.” He intended his words to be light, but he saw her small jaw set, the tiniest compression of her lips telling him he’d touched a nerve. He suddenly realized that independent spirit of hers had been won at a price. A powerful need to protect her swept over him. He remembered Lester Pinns, browbeating her last night, humiliating her in front of the whole town, and he had wanted to go out and find Pinns and deck him.