For All of Her Life (22 page)

He made a sudden shift, arms upon her shoulders. Sweeping her down beneath him, he kissed her lips with both slow-burning passion and sweet coercion. She barely felt his fingertips on the buttons of her nightgown... against her flesh. The touch slow. Hypnotic. His hands were calloused, but so gentle. Rough, soft. Caressing. Almost like a breath of air. Fingertips against her belly... a palm erotically rubbing against her nipple, his hand lower again, the whisper of a touch against her thighs, then suddenly a stroke into the dampness of her sex while all the while his tongue bathed her other...

“Jordan!” she managed his name when his mouth broke from hers.

“You still smell like me,” he whispered huskily. “Like you and me. Like sex. Musky. Erotic. Enticing.”

“Jordan, we shouldn’t—”

His eyes were on hers then. But he hadn’t withdrawn his touch. She trembled, feeling as if he were completely within her, in her soul, her mind, filling her with his essence.

“Kathy, can you really leave?” he demanded. There was the oddest hint of anguish to the words.

She nodded.

She was lying.

He knew it.

“Do you really want to leave?”

She inhaled. Choked. Caught his head, her fingers threading in his hair, and pulled his mouth back to hers. She kissed him. Tasting the dreams she’d lost for a decade. Warning herself that she played recklessly with a fire that could scorch and burn and hurt her again, ripping open scars that had never really healed...

But it didn’t matter. Not tonight. Tomorrow the world would change again. They could go their separate ways. Keep their distance. Right now...

Right now his touch was upon her. Within her. Her fingers relished the feel of him. His open-mouthed kiss ground down upon her lips, tongue sweeping deep into her mouth as the thrust of his fingers moved and stroked between her thighs. So much was sweetly familiar, so much had so long been denied. She touched him. Hands upon him. Fingers stroking down his chest. He was hers to touch again for this moment. Briefly, perhaps. But the ghosts of the past faded in the hungers of the present, as did the knowledge that he was no longer hers; for in these sweet moments, he was hers again. To touch, brush, pet. Stroke. Her palms upon his heated flesh. Fingers and kisses, liquid caresses, as intimate as any he might offer her. She’d missed the feel of him. Missed the length of his back, the muscles of his torso, his arms. The silvering, crisp sandy curls that grew in abundance on his chest. The taut-ness that remained at his waistline, the intoxicating fullness of his sex, the sheer sensual pleasure of closing her fingers around it...

They touched everywhere, kissed; aroused. He brought her down upon him. They moved like rabbits, wild, erratic, seeking more and more of one another, remembering, learning anew. He swept her beneath him, impatient with his own deepening desire, giving, demanding. She could no longer touch, kiss, caress... just hunger, seek, desire, demand, crave in turn. Waiting, feeling the sizzle of pure erotic pleasure build within her, crying out when it burst violently upon her, within her, throughout her. She was barely aware of him, then keenly aware of him, the fullness of him, the hardness of him, moving once more against her, as if he could become a part of her. Then he remained there.

She became aware of the air-conditioning again. Cool now that they were glittering with sweat touched by the moonglow and night lights streaking in upon them. He had shifted from her, but remained locked with her. So it had been during most of their married life.

She was tempted to ask him wistfully if it was the same way he made love to Tara Hughes. She didn’t speak. She lay still, trying not to think, trying to savor the minutes that were still hers.

“We did so much so wrong,” she said after a moment.

He moved his hands in her hair, remaining quiet, pensive. So be it. They had to be careful what they said. They lived separate lives now.

“Well, the girls would be happy that we’ve managed to get along,” she murmured, pushing up. She could still rest her face against his slick shoulder. Feel him breathe, enjoy the warmth of his body.

He set an arm around her, pulling her back beside him, bringing her head to rest against his shoulder again. “Yeah, the girls would be glad.”

She closed her eyes, thinking there was so much more to be said, then realizing that she didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to plan ahead, worry, regret what they had done.

Twice now.

She just wanted to lie beside him. Not too long. Soon enough, she’d have to rise. Slip back across the patio to the main house. To her own room.

Once upon a time, her room.

His fingers moved in her hair. The feel was absolutely lulling. She closed her eyes. A mistake. When she opened them again, the sky was bright outside the guest-house windows. She was tangled partially in the sheet, and partially with his body. One of her legs lay beneath him. One of his was draped over her hip. His hand was set just beneath her breast. His chest was against her side. His breath just touched her cheek, coming slowly, evenly, smoothly.

She stared at him a moment, felt wonderful for a second, then pained and alarmed. She’d touched him. It was morning. Morning’s light was pouring in on her. Darkness had surely been far kinder.

Tara Hughes was one of the most perfectly formed females.

She was insane! Worrying, fearing her looks. It was daylight. People could be up and about.

She propped herself up, trying to stare over Jordan’s still prone body and out to the patio beyond. What time was it? Early enough still? How the hell was she going to sneak back to the house?

“Seven-thirty,” she heard suddenly. “Too early for the party crowd to be up and around.”

She looked down. Jordan had sensed her movement and awakened. His eyes were cool upon her, narrowed, assessing. “Don’t worry. You can salvage an image of innocence for Muscleman.”

She frowned. “Jordan, that’s horrible. I told you, Jeremy is smart and kind.”

“I see. You mean ‘Miss April’ as a kind term.”

She smiled ruefully. “She is a lovely child.”

“So is he. And if he means a lot to you, I’ll help you sneak back to the house.”

She shook her head. “I’m worried about the girls. A very honest concern, don’t you think? Since you are heavily involved with Miss April—”

“And you are surely all but engaged to Muscleman?”

“Jordan...” She broke off. Cold seemed to be racing through her. A sense of pure panic.

Because Miss April had arrived. She was stepping out of the Florida room doors, Peggy at her side, pointing to the guest house. Tara smiled, listened, nodded. Peggy stepped back into the Florida room, and Tara looked over to the guest house, pausing for a moment.

She was bone slim, casual, her white blond hair feathered around her oval face, a form-hugging short blue sheath emphasizing the beauty of her form, even her sandals displaying feet that were perfect.

And young.

“Oh, God!” Kathy gasped.

“What?”

She stared at Jordan, wild. “It’s her!”

“Her?”

“Tara.”

“She isn’t due yet.”

“Well, she’s here!” Kathy started to leap up. She was amazed when he came to his knees, grasping her arm. “Kathy, damn it—!”

“Jordan, don’t you understand me? Your lover—your mistress—is coming across the patio as we speak.”

“Kathy, it’s all right! Don’t panic so, I—”

“Oh, God!” Kathy said desperately, wrenching away from him, finding her nightgown. “Jordan, the buttons are ripped, they’re here on the floor. But I’ve got them. Oh, what am I going to do? I can’t walk out like this. I—”

“It’s all right!”

“It’s not.”

He gritted his teeth, staring at her hard, opened his mouth as if about to speak, then changed his mind. He swore softly.

“Fine. You don’t want to be caught here.” He leapt up, still stark naked, and amazingly unaffected and totally unself-conscious.

Yet totally appealing still. Even more so by the light of day.

He strode across the room to one of the drawers, bent down, opened it. He tossed something to Kathy, drawing out a pair of trunks for himself.

“Well, put it on.”

“But Jordan—”

“It’s a bathing suit, Kathy. We can have been going for an early swim when I suggested coffee.”

“Jordan—”

“It’s the best I can do, Kath. Since you are so determined to pretend nothing has happened.”

“Things have happened. But things haven’t changed!” she whispered miserably.

He stepped into the trunks. “Let’s go swimming then,” he said harshly.

Downstairs someone was trying the front door.

Kathy stumbled into the bathing suit in a flash. Jordan was already heading down the stairs.

And a soft tapping now fell upon the front door to the guest house...

“J
ORDAN!”

Kathy came down the stairs just in time to see Jordan open the door to Tara Hughes.

The young woman entered the guest house with a great deal of enthusiasm, throwing her arms around Jordan and placing a wet, passionate kiss on his lips with almost frantic fervor. Kathy thought Jordan was rather stiff beneath the onslaught, but then maybe she wanted him to be not quite as receptive to his beloved as he usually was.

“Jordan, I thought I’d be working through Sunday at the earliest, but they finished up early and one of the photographers has his own little seaplane and was willing to deliver me right to a dock on the beach! I’m so glad to be here; I know how important this week is to you. Did the gorgon arrive? Is she behaving? Is... is...?”

Tara broke off, having seen Kathy standing at the foot of the stairs.

Kathy would have happily strangled Jordan at that moment. He had crawled into a nice, normal, conservative man’s bathing suit, but he had handed her a contraption with no back and a front so low it might as well have been next to nonexistent. She felt nearly naked, and even if she had half-killed herself with Jeremy at the gym, even if her most intimate, continual relationship of late had been with a Stairmaster, Tara’s startled scrutiny made her incredibly uncomfortable.

But the younger woman appeared stunned and humiliated herself. After all, she had just referred to Kathy as a gorgon.

“I... I...” the blonde stuttered, sounding very much like a version of Ricky Ricardo. “I—”

Kathy couldn’t bear to let her discomfort go on any longer. She stepped up to introduce herself, amazed to feel a certain sympathy, though why one of the most gorgeous young women in the world would want or need it, she didn’t know.

“Tara—” she began, but Jordan was already stepping in as well.

“Tara, this is—”

“Yes, it’s Kathy Treveryan, I, er, know. My God, you haven’t changed. You are Kathy, right? Of course. I’m babbling. I’ve seen your pictures. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“To call me a gorgon?” Kathy inquired, smiling.

“Oh, Lord.” Tara moaned.

“Kathy, Tara Hughes. Tara, the gorgon,” Jordan muttered wryly.

“I am sorry!” Tara repeated.

“It’s quite all right.” Kathy glanced at Jordan. “He has called me much worse over time.”

“He never called you a gorgon,” Tara said, then blushed furiously. She seemed to gather her poise then. “I am so sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you—here. I mean, so soon. I mean—”

“It’s quite all right. Really,” Kathy said. “And my name is Connoly. Jordan and I are divorced. Let me say that it really is a pleasure to meet you. You’re as gorgeous in person as you are in pictures.”

“Thank you,” Tara murmured. Her huge blue eyes wide, she looked from Kathy to Jordan. “I... didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” she said.

That was a lie. She’d be damned happy to interrupt anything brewing, Kathy thought. But Kathy was the one treading on Tara’s territory.

“How sweet, but don’t be ridiculous. Of course, you’re not interrupting anything,” Kathy told her quickly. “We’d been about to go for a swim—obviously, right?—but then we thought coffee sounded good first. Jordan was about to make some. I wonder if that’s really necessary now. I’m sure Peggy has some brewing in the main house. I think I’ll hurry on over and have some.”

She started to make a swift retreat, trying to sail past both of them and out of the wretched situation.

“Kathy!”

She was so amazed that she nearly gasped out when Jordan reached out to stop her. He’d meant to grab her shoulder; he caught her hair, tangled the class ring he wore on his right hand in it. He tried to disentangle himself. Meanwhile Kathy stood still while Tara stared at the two of them and Jordan cursed.

“I was just going to say we’d all go over for coffee,” he muttered. “I really need some. I’m sure you do too, Tara, eh?”

“You know I don’t drink coffee,” Tara said, frowning.

“Well, Peggy will have boiled water for tea!” he all but snapped.

Kathy was so eager to escape that she didn’t care if she ripped out half of her hair, but at that moment she suddenly became free. It didn’t matter. Jordan didn’t intend to let her escape. He set his left hand upon the small of Kathy’s back, the right upon Tara’s, and nearly thrust them both from the guest house. “Let’s go see what’s going on over there, shall we?”

“But Jordan—” Tara began.

“It’s a really perfect day,” he broke in, propelling both women across the patio. “I’d thought to take the
Sand Shark
out. We should get started as soon as possible. I promised the girls we’d go diving today.”

“I don’t dive, Jordan,” Tara reminded him a little coolly.

“Yes, but you enjoy the boat, right? You can snorkel.”

“I hate snorkels, they smash your face,” Tara declared testily.

“You’re welcome to stay at the house,” he told her.

“I wouldn’t do that! I was so excited to get this time!” she said, then lowered her voice to a whisper not intended to be heard by Kathy. “To be here when you might need moral support!”

Kathy wanted to die—to jump into the pool and dive to the bottom.

“Do you know, it might be too scorching today to take the boat out,” Kathy suggested.

“I promised the girls,” Jordan said.