Tidewater Lover (16 page)

"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.

Not until she heard the sliding door to the balcony open and close did she enter her bedroom. She was emotionally shaken by the feelings and sensations he had aroused. She knew she couldn't sleep so she walked to the window, gazing out at the moon casting a pale silvery light on the sand.

In seconds Cole was in her view, long strides carrying him toward the waves. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and his attention fixed on the ground. Lacey watched him until he walked out of her sight, striding along the beach into the night.
 

Changing into her pajamas, she crawled into bed. She didn't attempt to close her eyes as she listened to the clock on the bedside table tick the seconds away. The hands of the clock were nearly clasped together to signal the midnight hour when she finally heard Cole enter the house.

His pace had slowed considerably as he wandered into the hallway. He stopped outside her door. When she saw the doorknob turn, she closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

Opening the door, Cole made no attempt to enter the room, but stared at her for several silent minutes before he closed the door. She heard him walk to his own room. The pounding of her heart became almost an aching pain as she turned onto her side and tried to sleep.

Chapter Eight

THE NEXT morning Lacey awoke early from habit. She lay in bed for several minutes listening to the sounds of Cole stirring about.

Finally she climbed out of bed, realizing that she couldn't get back to sleep and that she would have to get up sooner or later. Pulling on her housecoat, she walked into the hall.

At that moment Cole stepped out of his room softly whistling a tuneless melody. He was wearing swimming trunks, chocolate brown with tan stripes. He smiled when he saw her.

"Good morning," he greeted her cheerfully.

"You must have been up for a while," Lacey observed, her own voice still husky from sleep.

"I have. How did you know? Did I wake you?" he questioned, waiting for her and falling into step beside her.

"No, you didn't. I just guessed you'd been up because you're usually grouchy when you first wake up," she replied.

He reached out and ruffled her short hair. "You aren't exactly Miss Sunshine when you first get up in the mornings, either," he commented.

"Don't do that!" she protested, and tried to brush her hair down with the flat of her hand.

"See what I mean?" He winked, an impish light dancing in his dark blue eyes.

"I never have claimed to be Miss Sunshine," she pointed out. "Did you make coffee?"

"Not yet. I was on my way out for a morning swim before breakfast, hoping you'd be up and have it ready when I came in," he replied with engaging honesty, the mocking amusement still gleaming in his look.

"You could have fixed it and had it ready for me when I got up," she countered, unable to take offense this early in the day.

"I could have," he agreed. "Would you like to come for a swim with me? I'll wait."

"No, thanks," Lacey refused, not glancing at his lean, browned physique, which was altogether too disturbingly virile for her senses to cope with when she wasn't fully awake yet.

"Okay," he shrugged, branching away from her toward the balcony door. "I'll see you later."

He seemed to take much of the morning sunshine with him when he left. Lacey halfheartedly fixed the coffee pot and plugged it in. She took her orange juice onto the balcony, her gaze searching the waves until she found Cole. He was a strong swimmer, as she had guessed he would be. She watched him for a long time before finally reminding herself to get dressed.

Showering first, she put on shorts of tan plaid with a white boat-necked top. The coffee was perked when she returned to the kitchen. She poured a cup and wandered again to the balcony, her gaze once more drawn magnetically to the beach.

Two figures caught her attention. One was Cole wading out of the ocean, lifting a hand in greeting to the second figure. It was the woman in the sunbonnet to whom Lacey had talked the previous morning.

She paled slightly as Cole stopped to talk to the woman searching the beach for shells. His tanned body glistened like bronze from the moistness of the water beading over his skin.

Lacey had no idea what the two were talking about, but Cole was listening with obvious attention. Once he glanced to the house, spying Lacey on the balcony.

Apprehension shivered over her skin. The woman surely wouldn't mention her impression that she and Cole were living together. Surely she wouldn't be that bold?

Soon Cole was nodding a goodbye to the woman, his long legs striding across the sands to the balcony stairs. Lacey was tempted to retreat into the house, but she forced herself to stand her ground and react calmly to his return.

"Did you have a good swim?" she asked.

"Great." His hair glistened darkly in the sunlight as he effortlessly took the steps two at a time to reach the top. "Ah, the coffee's done," he said, seeing the cup in Lacey's hand.

"I'll get you a cup," she offered quickly, finding an excuse to leave.

"It can wait." He walked to the railing near her, leaning both hands on it and gazing silently at the ocean beyond.

Then, unexpectedly, he looked at her, his gaze piercing yet with a roguish glint in it. He was so vibrant and male, a bronzed statue come to life, that her breath was coming in uneven spurts.

"I just had a very intriguing conversation with that woman on the beach," he said. "A Mrs. Carlyle—she lives a few houses down. Do you know her?"

Something in the inflection of his voice told Lacey that he already knew the answer, possibly recognizing the woman from yesterday.

"I talked to her for a few minutes the other day," she admitted, "but I didn't know her name." Slightly flustered, she knew there was a tinge of pink in her cheeks. She sipped quickly at her coffee, pretending the tepid liquid was hot. "She collects shells and makes things with them, jewelry and such."

"So she told me—among other things." There was a hint of laughter in his reply, but his mockingly intent gaze did not relent an inch. "I'm curious about what you told her."

"Me?" Lacey swallowed nervously.

"You're aware that Mrs. Carlyle is under the impression that we're living together in the immoral interpretation of the phrase?" he murmured.

"I was afraid she thought that," Lacey admitted after a second's hesitation.

"What did you tell her?" he prodded, a smile playing with the corners of his mouth.

"She assumed we were married and I automatically said you weren't my husband. She drew her own conclusions from that," she explained self-consciously.

"And you didn't correct her assumption?"

"It would have been such a long drawn-out story, and she was a stranger." She shrugged and curled both hands around her coffee cup. "What did she say to you?"