Charades (5 page)

     He was much taller than she was, and he knew it would be uncomfortable if she had to put her arms around his neck. He solved the problem by gently putting his hands on her shoulders, pulling her close and placing her hands at his waist.

     Wulf gently lifted the glasses off her face and gave her a light kiss on her forehead. He heard her sigh, the look of anxiety and impatience dropping from her face. Stunned, he watched as dreaminess slowly replaced it. If she had even a clue what he was feeling, she would’ve leapt back from him like he was a roaring fire spewing blazing sparks. He was too tall for her, and she was too short for him. When she leaned into him, he knew she had to be unaware of the effect her breasts had pressing against his stomach. But somewhere between too tall and too short, his lips drifted down from her forehead to her lips.

     What had started out as a calculated, tender kiss quickly evolved into a heated, fiery encounter and a ravenous hunger for more. Wulf locked her closer to him, sliding his arms down from her shoulders and around her back, reveling in the feel of her breasts flattened against him.

     He felt her arms wind around his waist, her hands touching and stroking the taut muscles of his back and the deep indentation down his spine. Every muscle in his body tensed. Instead of her dropping in a dead faint at his hardness, as he fully expected, his arousal had the exact opposite effect. Her mouth opened on a small gasp of pleased surprise.

     Wulf delved into her with delight, swirling their tongues together, sipping her newly awakened desire with greed. His body flamed, and his mind lost track of his plans to take it slow and easy.

     When he felt her rub herself against his hardness, he could barely stifle the groan. It was a fight to maintain control, particularly with this unsettling kind of reaction from her. He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples into hardened pebbles with his thumbs. She whimpered, pressing into his hands.

     Wulf groaned, willing himself not to tighten his hold and frighten her. The more he held himself back, the more she strained toward him, as though he was a magnet.

     Why did she feel so good, so right? His body drove him forward so fast his brain heard only weak signals. Even so, the signals told him if he didn’t stop this quickly, he’d soon be too far gone.

     Why now? Why her? Aw, hell! Wulf slowly pushed her away from him, loosening her hold on his back.

     The look of horror on Mercy’s face made him feel like a heel. With growing alarm he watched as she touched her swollen lips with her fingertips. Wulf knew he had to say something but his teeth were still clenched with the strain of keeping himself away from her. He forced his ragged breathing to slow.

     Mercy blinked several times as though to clear her head. Her rigid posture as well as all his instincts warned against touching her at this moment. Getting her to trust him enough to fall in love with him required a delicate balance.

     “I–I’m s-sorry,” Mercy said. “Oh, God, I’m so embarrassed.” She turned away from him toward the wall.

     His heart wrenched when he heard her stammer. “Ah,
liebchen
, no,” Wulf said, pulling her against his chest as he gently wrapped his arms around her. “It was beautiful, our kiss. You are beautiful. When I kiss you, I feel so much I cannot say.”

     He drew in a sharp breath as he realized his words were true. He forced himself to think in spite of the arousal that threatened to flood what little good sense remained in his brain.

     Something he did or said must have been right because he felt her slowly begin to relax. Perhaps he hadn’t frightened her as badly as he thought. Hell! Not nearly as badly as he’d frightened himself.

    
Mein Gott
, she aroused him like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Why hadn’t he anticipated the attraction? Damn it all! Lust, that’s all it was.

     Damage control! Where did he start? “Maybe we have something more than friendship here,” he began. “Something we did not plan,
ja
?” His voice sounded hopeful without any effort. What a joke on him!

     She nodded, looking scared and miserable. “Maybe.” She darted into her room, barely missing the door jam.

     Wulf closed his own door and flung himself down on the bed. He’d already compromised what integrity he had for the deal with Ryder. Now he was discovering feelings he hadn’t known were there. All he had to do was be a lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch. He groaned and turned over.

         Mercy stood in front of the mirror trying to bring a semblance of order to her hair as well as her sanity. She studied her reflection, dismayed and frustrated by her uncooperative hair. Quickly she did the curly, dark brown mass up on her head in a loose topknot, her usual solution for a bad hair day. “There,” she proclaimed, more satisfied. Were those shadows under her eyes? Her dreams last night had been so mysterious and sensual she felt shaken.

     Wulfgar Rheinhart had made her more uncomfortable, more excited, and more energized in the past forty-eight hours than anyone Mercy had ever known.

     Her therapist had said it would take a long time to exorcise her fears about men, but up until now, she doubted it would ever happen. Mercy touched her lower lip, remembering last night’s kiss. Wulf, with his funny accent and gentle demeanor, had thawed her reservations and conquered her defenses easier than any man in the preceding six years.

     Since the episode in college, she’d avoided contact with men, but now, for the first time, Mercy wondered what she’d been missing. Was it too late for her to change? Could she work herself out of the past and into the future? She’d tried before, but every time something had happened to make her retreat to safety. Wulf, himself, didn’t scare her, not anymore. Her
feelings
for him scared her.

     Tired of her muddled thoughts, Mercy stepped out of her room to go to breakfast. Her knees went weak at the sight of him leaning against his door, waiting for her in that familiar jaunty pose of his. He wore a burgundy polo shirt today, the short sleeves tight around his biceps. The citrus scent of his aftershave made her yearn to touch his freshly shaven face, to graze those strong, angular bones with the tips of her fingers.

     Mercy cleared her throat. How can he look so casual and relaxed when I’ve just spent a turbulent, miserable night trying to sleep? She forced her face into a mask of polite blandness. “You’re staring at me,” she accused him. “It’s my hair, isn’t it?” She touched the wispy strands framing her face.

     He laughed. “No. I just like looking at you. I am glad I came here with you.”

     “Me too.” If only he knew!

     “
Ja
.” He paused, looking down at her for a few seconds before he took her hand in his. She cringed, knowing her palms were already damp.

     “I think I could eat one of those longhorns that Red and Dorie keep as pets, don’t you?” she chattered, trying to keep a tight rein on her nervousness. Why was he still holding her hand? Would he try to kiss her again? Her heart started to flop. She’d soon have a full-blown panic attack if this continued.

     Mercy watched mesmerized as Wulf brought her hand up to his lips. He smiled hesitantly.

     “Forgive me,” he said, kissing her fingers and then her knuckles. “I have not wished you good morning yet.” Between nips and nibbles at her fingers, his eyes shot sparks at her. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and a chill shot like lightening up her spine.

     Did he have any idea what he was doing to her, how her lower regions were heating up so dangerously? He brought her other hand to his lips and did the same thing. Mercy’s mouth opened, but only a whimper escaped. Her eyes closed as a small, sensual tremor ran through her body. She shook her head and blinked her eyes. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

     “Shall we go eat now?”

     “Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” she said, trying to reorient herself. She took slow breaths as Wulf placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and walked with her into the Ryder’s large combination kitchen-breakfast room.

     “What happened to your glasses?” she finally thought to ask.

     “I really only need them for reading. Where are your glasses?”

     “Glasses?” Her brain felt as though it was swimming in thick, chocolate pudding. “I really only need them for reading, too.”

     “
Ja
?” He smiled, a slow, lazy smile that made her want to purr like a kitten. “We have much in common.”

     “Help yourself to whatever you like,” Dorie called from the sideboard as they entered the breakfast nook of the kitchen where the enticing odor of bacon and steak wafted to their nostrils. Dorie was ladling a gigantic waffle with gobs of heated butter and syrup, while Red was buttering a thick piece of Texas-sized toast to go with his steak and chorizo.

     Mercy followed Wulf as he joined them, amazed at the amount of food he heaped onto his plate. She wasn’t aware of her disapproving look until he said with a lifted eyebrow, “I eat big breakfast.”

     The evidence he didn’t put on weight easily—not if the quantity of his breakfast was any sign of his normal eating patterns—disgruntled her. Another example of the unfairness of the gods. She had to watch what she ate or she gained weight. Thinking back to the huge steaks he’d had last night, she shook her head in further envy.

     The golf game started as soon as they were through with breakfast. Thank God, Mercy thought, she needed some other form of exercise than panic and anxiety. She soon found out that a Scottish golf course could be just as challenging as she’d been told, with its rolling hills, uneven lies, and blind tees.

     “It fits in with the country,” Red explained to her as he saw her scanning the rolling fairways. “We’re not called the hill country for nothing, you know.”

     Mercy nodded and inhaled the early morning air, redolent with fresh-mown grass. Birds chirped and squirrels nattered as they ran up and down the massive live oak trees scattered throughout the course. Almost every morning before school, she’d played golf with her father. It had been their special time alone together. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply again. This was going to be a great day!

     Tabulating scores at the end of the afternoon, Mercy found herself in the lead, with Dorie behind her, followed by Wulf, and Red. Wulf’s playing intrigued her. His drives were incredibly accurate, long or short, straight or curved, whichever way the course ran or dog-legged. The hills presented no problems for him either.

     It was only on the greens that he played abominably. He did something else that intrigued her. When he’d sink an extra long putt, he’d crack his knuckles. Mercy knew she’d either seen him playing before or had heard about someone doing that knuckle-cracking gesture.

     Red made her laugh with his erratic playing. He had a horrific slice, that is, when he didn’t hook. She and Dorie, on the other hand, played evenly all the way through. If she could face Dorie after the charade of this week, she’d enjoy playing with her again.

     “I’m going in to take a rest. Who wants to go with me?” Dorie asked. Wulf and Red needed to talk alone, so Mercy agreed to go with her.

     At the front door, Dorie stopped the golf cart and turned to Mercy. “Honey, you just blew us all out of the water back there. You should feel like you’re in high clover, but instead you look as nervous as the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof.”

     She patted Mercy on the shoulder. “Life isn’t near as difficult as you think, honey. ‘Lighten up,’ as my kids would say.” She punched Mercy lightly on the arm. “The way I hear it, life’s not intended to be permanent.”

     “You’re right,” Mercy said, laughing. “But have you ever noticed you’re halfway through life before you realize it’s a do-it-yourself course.”

     Dorie grinned. “You’re learning, honey. Now take a rest or walk around a bit, but for Lord’s sake, enjoy yourself.” She turned the cart over to a houseboy and waved Mercy away.

     Mercy wandered out to the backyard. The sounds of a working ranch—cowboys yelling at one another, horses stamping and neighing, cows lowing, cow dogs barking—were like a relaxing tonic. Farther down the lane were barns for horses and pens for cattle, including the small enclosure for the herd of longhorns.

     She felt drawn like a homing beacon to the barn housing the horses, having ridden often with her mother in her youth. Two hours later she realized she should be cleaning up for dinner. She loved spending time with the Quarter horses and had lost track of time talking to the old cowboy who exercised them.

     Mercy checked her watch, wondering if Wulf had returned yet. She found him waiting for her by the vine-draped backyard gazebo. In the fading heat of the day, the dark, shady gazebo looked enticing. She moved toward him, catching the aroma of leather and horse still clinging to her. She grimaced. No time to shower now, she thought as her pulse began to thrum.

     Wulf leaned against the frame of the gazebo with his arms crossed, watching her. Heat spread through Mercy’s body in gusty waves. Why did he affect her so oddly, and why did she feel so drawn to him?

     “You must’ve finished early,” she said. His presence excited her, her heart swelled with pleasure. He reached out and whisked her into the gazebo with him, seating her upon his lap. Her surprised laughter stopped the moment she saw his face. Silence greeted her as he gazed into her eyes.

     Mercy could only sit stunned as he slowly threaded his fingers through her hair, his deep blue eyes locked on hers with an intensity she’d never seen before. When her mouth opened in question, he shut it with his own, his lips slanting possessively over hers, blending them seamlessly. Her breath stopped as he kissed possessively, passionately, hungrily. It should have scared her to death. Instead, a cauldron of liquid, seething desire bubbled up within her. Mercy squirmed, trying to get closer, pressing herself into the large protective strength of Wulf’s chest.

     He drew away from her, scattering her wits to the wind. His breathing, like her own, rasped rough and uneven as he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “I am sorry,” he said in a husky voice, “but watching you…” He leaned back a little and shook his head.