Forever My Love (11 page)

She had very silently, very agreeably stayed behind. She wanted him, she'd had him, and she'd walked away damned easily, ready to resume her life. With Mr. Fashion Plate, Mr. Hair Mousse, Mr. Wall Street Type. Maybe it was just what she wanted, just what she needed. A guy with no passion whatsoever inside, a guy as straight as an arrow.…

No passion, no life! He wasn't right for Kathy at all. There was no music in his soul, and Kathy was music, a sweet beat of laughter and impulse and challenge and never-ending curiosity, always willing to take a chance, to travel to new places, to meet new people. She was the pulse, the beat of his life. He hadn't lost his touch when he had lost his son, although the anguish had been terrible. He had lost it all when he had lost her, and he had barely managed to regain it.

Maybe it was better that she dated this guy, this Axel. Maybe they would never walk down island shores together while listening to the drumroll of a different lifestyle. Maybe they'd never find a private cove and throw caution to the wind. Maybe he'd never make love with sand between his toes.

But then again, maybe he'd never hurt her, either.

She'd walk all over him eventually, Brent thought sourly. Kathy had her own temper. And her own will. And both were powerful. She'd tire of this guy soon enough.

Hell, they were divorced. He should be wishing her happiness. He loved her still, didn't he? He wanted her to be happy. That was what loving was.

Hell, no. He hated Axel, hated the way the guy looked. Hated him touching Kathy.

But then, there wasn't anything he could do about it, was there?

The sun beat down on him as the morning waned to afternoon. He held a course for Bear Cut, determined to drop anchor for a while, then move in at night. He wasn't going to bring the boat in to any dock. He'd drop anchor right off some private property in the grove, then swim in. He'd have the boat picked up by a towing company.

Nightfall was coming. He stood, stretched and stared at the shallow waters before the island. There were still bathers on the darkening beach—lovers, picnickers, kids playing with snorkel gear.

He swung around suddenly, startled, as he heard something. He wasn't sure what it was. Something. Maybe he hadn't heard it. Maybe he'd just sensed it.

Then he did hear something. Below.

Someone had gotten onto the
Sweet Eden
. When he had been with the Brennans?

Or worse, he thought, feeling an unease sweep up his spine. Maybe he'd been so involved with his thoughts that someone had crawled aboard as he'd set out, with him already at the helm.

He was slipping! He'd never stay alive at this rate.

There was a gun in the overhead compartment in the starboard cabin. He'd checked it before, the first chance he'd had last night. Kathy had never moved it. She didn't like guns, but she was a decent shot, and when it had seemed the crime wave across the country was here to stay, he had insisted she do some target practicing with him.

And now someone was in the cabin with his gun.

Well, he still had his hands and his wits and there had been a few too many times in the army when he'd had to use them. It was just that that had been a long time ago.

He moved toward the stairs, then silently moved down them in his bare feet.

There was no one in the galley or in the salon. The intruder had to be in one of the cabins.

He moved to the starboard side. The cabin door was slightly ajar. The shadows had become so deep he could barely see. But then he caught the movement. Someone was in there, moving furtively in the darkness.

He didn't dare make a sound. He catapulted forward, his arms outstretched. The shadow moved then, turning, seeing him.

A scream ripped through the air and the shadow tried to move. An elbow caught him in the chin. His arms wrapped around a warm body and held. Limbs thrashed and flailed as he dragged the body into the hallway, grunting. Then he tackled the body to the ground, straddling it and locking its wrists high above its head.

He blinked against the shadows and darkness. “Kathy!” he exploded.

“Brent!” She was furious, shaking. “You scared me half to death.”

“I scared you! I'm supposed to be aboard this boat. You are not!”

“You could have just said that it was you!”

“I thought you were someone trying to kill me,” he told her.

“Well, that just might be true at this moment! Why didn't you say—”

“I try not to announce my presence when I think someone might have a gun,” he drawled wryly.

“You didn't have to manhandle me! Now get off me!” she snapped, her blue eyes flashing with fury.

He was about to do so, but then he shook his head with a grim smile and sat, still holding her wrists, still straddling her hips, his weight settled comfortably on his haunches.

“I don't think so.”

“What?”

He leaned toward her. “Not until you tell me what the hell you think you're doing on this boat!”

Chapter 6

“I'm going with you,” Kathy said.

“What?”

She inhaled and exhaled, feeling the pressure of his hands and thighs upon her. She could see an angry tic at the base of his throat. “I'm going with you,” she repeated.

He exploded with a swift, precise oath.

“Will you please quit that and listen to me for a moment? And while you're at it, would you please let go of me? This is not the most comfortable position in the world.”

“It seems to be the only position to have you in, Ms. O'Hara, to know where you are and what you're doing!”

“Brent!”

He got up and none-too-gently and very ungraciously dragged her to her feet. He stared at her in the growing darkness, turned and climbed the stairs. Kathy quickly followed.

“Brent, will you listen to me?”

He was standing there, his hands on his hips, staring out at the beach. In the coming darkness, the place was almost deserted. All the children had returned to their various boats with their parents and were heading to the marinas. The picnickers were all gone. A lone couple walked the sands hand in hand.

“Kathy, I'm putting you on a plane out of here,” he told her flatly.

“No, you're not!” she retorted furiously. “Do you want to know what the problem is, Brent? I know what you're trying to do. You don't want to go home and play it safe. You want to go back and make sure you're incredibly visible. You want to draw this person or these persons out.”

He turned to stare at her. Even in the darkness she was certain she could see a glitter in his eyes. She had hit upon the truth. “Kathy—”

“I'm right and I know it!” she said stubbornly.

“Kathy! I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't know just how good these people are. I—”

“My house is probably the safest place in Miami for you, Brent. Had you thought of that?”

The moonlight was growing stronger, cutting through the shadows of the night. He inclined his head, watching her with a certain amusement. “Is it?”

“Yes, it is. And don't laugh at me. I know what I'm talking about.”

“
Our
house, remember? And if it's so safe, why was I able to walk right into the bathroom?”

“Because you know about that entrance. Because I hadn't bothered with the alarm because I knew Sam was out there. No one gets past Sam.”

“I did.”

“Because I never managed to explain the terms of the divorce to him!” Kathy snapped. “Brent, that foolish dog loves you. But he's wonderful otherwise. And the alarm system is connected directly to the police station. And we can even bring in a cop or a security guard or—”

“Kathy, don't you understand? You would be safest if you were far away,” he said with exasperation.

She was silent for a moment. “No. I can't go away. Don't you understand?”

They both felt the rocking of the boat, the gentle movement of the waves, the coolness of the night breeze. He stared at her then sank onto the bench, sighing. “Kathy, I wasn't going to even bring the boat into her berth. I was going to ditch her somewhere close and—”

“I know the perfect place!” Kathy said enthusiastically. “Mrs. Fenniman's property.”

“Whose?”

“Mrs. Fenniman's! She lives at the little curve in the arm of the peninsula. She's ninetysomething years old, lives with a sweet young nurse and has the most overgrown acre of land I've ever seen. And you can run along the back of it and right up the side of our wall to the gate and be inside the house before anyone could possibly know you'd been outside it!”

He watched her for a long moment, knowing she was absolutely right.

Then suddenly the moon touched his eyes and Kathy saw that they were flashing with fury again. He stood and walked over to her and caught her shoulders and seemed to be fighting the temptation to shake her hard.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded harshly.

She let her head fall back and met his gaze with an equal fury and challenge. “For old time's sake,” she snapped.

“Kathy—”

“Because I don't want to be forced out of my own house, all right? What difference does it make? You cannot force me to go anywhere, Brent!”

“Don't bet on it. I thought earlier that I
should
have tied you up and sent you north in a cargo box.”

She wrenched back from his touch, taking a step away from him. “I'd never speak to you again.”

“Well, you haven't spoken to me in three years.”

“I'll have you nice and safe in jail on charges of physical harassment or whatever it is you call it!” she warned him.

He laughed and before she knew it had caught her by the shoulders again, swung her around and set her on the bench by the tiller, then stood towering over her, locking her in place with a hand laid flat upon the fiberglass next to each shoulder.

“This is my party you've crashed, Kathy. And things are going to be done my way.”

“I beg your pardon! You crashed into my bathroom, remember?”

“
Our
bathroom!”

“Brent—”

“It's almost like you're inviting me to play man and wife again. Is that what you're doing, Kathy?”

“Get off me, Brent. I'm trying to help you. For Shanna's sake. For—”

“For old time's sake. Yes, I know.” He straightened suddenly and walked away from her. He stared at the water, then said, “All right. All right, you can stay, but we still play it my way. I make all the rules. Agreed?”

“No, you do not—”

“Kathy, trust me, I wouldn't feel a bit guilty exercising a little physical harassment to get you to safety.”

“What are these rules?” she demanded. Muttering beneath her breath, she added, “I don't believe this! I've done my very best to be an extremely decent ex-wife, and here you are—”

“Making rules. Right. That's the way it goes. Agreed?”

“I told you—let me hear the rules.”

“Once we get to the house, you stay in it. You don't even walk to the pool unless I'm with you, understand? You don't bring in the mail. You don't do anything.”

“Brent—”

“Anything at all. All right?”

She clenched her teeth and nodded. “All right!”

“And,” he added softly, “if you want to play house, Ms. O'Hara, we play house.”

“What?” she said.

“I'm not sleeping on any couches. Or in Shanna's room or on the floor.”

Warmth sizzled through her. She knew what he was saying. It was just that her tongue had gone very dry and she wasn't at all sure of how she should respond.

“I—I don't mind couches or Shanna's room,” she said softly.

“That's not what I meant and you know it. I can't live with you and not sleep with you. You're not my wife, but you were for a very long time, and I discovered years ago that I didn't seem to be able to manage any halfway situations with you. If you want me in the house, you get me in your bed. Understood?”

She stared at him blankly and wondered if he had just given her exactly what she wanted. Or if he had frightened her beyond anything she had expected.

What had she wanted? Flowers? Soft music? A careful seduction? Maybe she was pretending. And maybe she had wanted him to play the game, too. Perhaps there was no getting back together, ever, because the desire they shared blanketed the pain, but in the harsh light of day, it could never erase it.

“Kathy!” His voice was curt, nearly brutal, and cold as ice.

“I'm thinking!” she snapped.

“You didn't have to think so long last night,” he reminded her bluntly. “Last night you were just about as hot as—”

“You bastard!” she gasped, leaping to her feet and staring at him furiously, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. They wouldn't stay there. She took a step forward and slammed them against his naked chest. He caught her wrists and dragged her hard against him, his eyes sizzling as they bored into hers.

“I'm just trying to keep this blunt and true and in perspective, Ms. O'Hara. I told you before I won't play games. I wouldn't pretend that what happened between us didn't. And I won't turn anything into a game, either. I won't bed down on a couch then come wandering around in the middle of night pretending I'm looking for something I can't find. You wanted me last night, I wanted you. I still want you. And if I'm going to sleep in that house, I'm damned well going to sleep with you.”

She couldn't stare at him much longer. Maybe he was right, maybe it should all be kept strictly on the surface. It would be foolish to pretend, even to herself, that she didn't want him desperately. Even if it was just for this brief time.

It had been his house, too. Technically, it still was. Maybe he couldn't live in it and keep his distance. She knew Brent well; he wasn't going to date her at this time in their lives.