Forever My Love (12 page)

She wished he hadn't been quite so blunt, but he meant to be. Blunt, crude, basic. He didn't want her to expect more out of him.

She wrenched from his hold. “All right.”

He arched a brow. “You agree?”

“I just said so.”

He smiled slowly. She tossed her blond hair, turned and started for the steps.

“Where are you going now?” he demanded harshly.

She had reached the stairs. She swung around, angry. “You've got a bit of a ride to the shore. I'm going to bed. Alone. We haven't reached the house yet!”

She started down the steps, infuriated. She heard his soft laughter follow her, and it didn't help one bit. She slammed her cabin door and flung herself on the bed, her heart racing. She waited tensely, wondering if he would come after her with some new ultimatum.

But he didn't. She heard the motor rev, felt the motion of the boat, and she knew they were under way. He hadn't come near her.

He didn't need to, she reminded herself. He already had her exactly where he wanted her. All he had to do was bide his time.

She hadn't thought she would doze off, but she'd probably had less than four hours of sleep the night before and, to her amazement, once she closed her eyes, the rocking of the boat allowed the world to slip away.

She was startled when she heard Brent's voice awakening her. “Kathy! Kathy, we're here.”

She sat up and saw his silhouette in the doorway. She blinked, trying to leave the fog of sleep behind her. It was so dark. They hadn't come into a marina.

No, no, they weren't supposed to be at a marina. They were on the shore of Mrs. Fenniman's property. It had been her idea. Whatever had possessed her?

Despite the moon, it was still very black out. And there was no nice clean beach here, just weeds and high grass and all kinds of trees and yucky underwater plants.

“Come on!” Brent urged her. Even in the shadows, she felt his eyes wander over her. She was still dressed in the bikini—Shanna's bikini—and nothing else. Well, it was appropriate for a swim.

“Have you got your sneakers and the keys?”

“Sneakers?”

“Yeah, you never know what you might step on trying to get out of here.”

“Oh, yeah, right!” she agreed miserably. She found her sneakers beneath the bunk and tied them on. Then she dug into her bag to find her keys and wallet. Brent reached for them and she stared at him blankly. “I've got pockets,” he told her curtly. “You've barely got room to breathe.”

After handing him her things, she waltzed past him and hurried up on deck.

There wasn't a soul around, not for miles and miles. Brent had turned off all the lights and brought them in to hug the shore. The tide might ground them by morning, but that didn't seem to matter much right now.

“Ready?” he asked her.

If only it had been a nice clean beach.

“Sure,” she murmured. She didn't want to dive into the water. They were close enough to the marina for the water to be filled with oil and garbage. They were far enough away for it to be filled with all kinds of creatures she didn't mind at all by daylight—but hated in the darkness.

“Let's go.”

She must have hesitated too long. He swept her up and tossed her over, then followed quickly.

She was a good swimmer. She clenched her teeth and headed in, trying to ignore the muddy sand and slimy feel of the sea grasses. She stumbled for a foothold when she neared land. She almost slipped in the stuff but Brent was right behind her, taking her elbow. They walked to the hard earth together. Then he had her hand and was leading her silently through the sea brush, through the stands of mangroves and deep into the foliage of the yard.

She could see Mrs. Fenniman's old Spanish mansion up on a rise. They came to the row of pines at the base of the ledge and ran along them until they reached the back wall of their fence.

“Don't bark, Sam! Don't bark!” Brent muttered.

He paused just a second, then led her to the front of the property. He glanced quickly at Kathy as he looked at the alarm box.

“I haven't changed the code,” she muttered.

He punched in the numbers, then opened the wrought-iron gate with her key. He shoved her inside and followed quickly, locking it behind him.

Kathy nearly screamed as something cold touched her hand. She jumped a mile before she realized it was Sam.

“Good dog!” Brent said, patting him affectionately. “Come on,” he told Kathy.

They hurried up the path to the door, which Brent opened. Sam started to follow them in. “All right, just for a few minutes,” Brent told the dog. “We need you out there tonight, my friend.”

Kathy sighed and leaned against the door for a moment, then moved away as Brent continued to pat Sam. “Where are you going?” he demanded sharply.

“For a glass of wine. And then I'm going to take a bath. Every creepy thing in the sea seemed to have touched me.”

“Wait a minute,” he told her curtly.

She stood and watched him while he disappeared into her bedroom.

Their
bedroom.

He came back a moment later. She stared at him curiously. “I was just checking the back door.”

She smiled sweetly. “The riffraff has already come in that way.”

He ignored her and picked up the phone. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, then decided to be generous and pour him a glass, too.

When she emerged from the kitchen, he seemed to be on hold. The receiver was between his head and his shoulder and he was busy loading a gun.

“Where did that come from?”

He glanced at her, arching a brow. “It's a police gun, fires fifteen shots.”

She shivered despite herself. There was a gun on the boat; he'd always kept a gun in the house. This was a new one, though.

“Robert gave it to me a while back. I have a permit, and it's nice and legal.” She was still staring at him. “Kathy, if someone comes in and tries to shoot us, I'm going to shoot back. Okay?”

“You brought that off the boat?”

“I brought it with me the other day, when I came in through the bathroom.”

Just how long had he been in the house before she had seen him? she wondered. Not that it mattered anymore. She set down his glass of wine.

He cast her a quick glance. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“Robert? Yeah, it's Brent,” he said suddenly into the phone. He had called Robert; he was bringing the police in on the situation.

She could hear Robert's voice, demanding to know where he was, where he'd been. “Robert, hang on just a second,” he said as Kathy started to turn away. “You're taking a bath?”

She nodded, wondering if he thought she was giving him some kind of an invitation. She wasn't—she felt dirty from swimming in dirty water.

“Good,” he said bluntly. “Burn that suit when you're done, will you?”

She arched a brow in surprise, but he had already turned his attention to the phone conversation. She walked into the bathroom with her wine, turned on the water in the tub, poured in an ample amount of bubbles, then lowered herself into it.

The heat was delicious. The clean water was delicious. She sank beneath the water, soaked her hair and scrubbed it assiduously. She leaned back, content, and took a long swallow of wine.

Was this an invitation?

It hadn't been that long ago when she had lain here dreaming of the past. Then the past had intruded upon the present. She had thought about Brent crawling into the tub with her. And he had stumbled into it, jeans and all. Not exactly what she'd had in mind.

None of this was what she'd had in mind.…

Would he come in now? she wondered. Come in now as she had dreamed, stride in, peel away the cutoffs, sink down with her. Touch her in the midst of the bubbles, do the things to her he'd done the night before…

Her eyes closed. He would come, he was the one who insisted he would. He would sweep her up as he had so often before, and lay her on the bed they had shared. Against the whiteness of the cool, clean cotton sheets. His body would look so bronze.

It would be like playing house all over again. Playing man and wife as Brent had said.

They could never go back. But that was all right. She only wanted these few nights.…

Brent came in, talking. “I'll see Robert tomorrow,” he said. “They'll have a man watching the house tonight. They had a patrol car going around when we came in, but apparently the man didn't see us. I don't know if that means we're very good, or he isn't quite so good. But between the alarm and the dog and the cop, I guess we should be in pretty good shape.”

She didn't respond. Her head was on the rim of the tub, her eyes were closed, her dark honey lashes sweeping her cheeks. He smiled suddenly, realizing she was sound asleep.

“You can drown yourself that way,” he whispered softly. He pulled a towel from the rack and bent to lift her. Her eyes flew open with alarm.

“It's all right, don't be frightened. It's just me. You were sleeping.”

Her eyes fluttered, and her arms wound around his neck. He thought she had fallen asleep again already when she whispered softly, “Just you, don't be frightened!” she said. “I should be absolutely terrified.”

“Why is that?”

She shook her head. Her eyes closed.

He carried her to the bedroom, pulled back the spread, then laid her on the sheets, still wrapped in the towel. He rolled her, freeing the towel from beneath her. She lay on her stomach. Her eyes opened and closed again.

Her back was still damp. He moved the terry-cloth towel gently over her, then tossed it aside. He pressed his lips against her spine and felt her slight shift of movement. She tried to open her eyes but her lashes fell softly over them once again.

He smiled, rose and brought the covers over her, then turned off the light as he left the room.

In the living room he sat before the fireplace and drank his wine. Sam pushed his nose onto Brent's lap and Brent idly patted the dog. “You don't understand any of it, do you, boy? Neither do I,” Brent assured him.

He leaned back. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have let her talk him into anything. He should have put her on a plane.

But it was good to be here. With her.

“She came back for me, Sam. I left her on a sailboat, heading away with friends, and she came back. What do you think of that? Actually, it was pretty humiliating. Here I am thinking I can still hear a pin drop in the dark, and she crawled right on that boat without my even realizing it. I'm slipping, Sam. Her fault. I was thinking about her. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her for a minute.”

He stroked the dog's ears a few minutes longer, then sighed and rose. “Out, Sam. I need you outside. To watch for bad guys. Don't let me down, boy.”

With Sam out, Brent finished his wine. He was feeling the slime himself, and chose to shower in the hallway bathroom rather than take a chance on waking her up.

The heat and the steam felt great. He came out with a towel wrapped around his hips and made one last tour of the place. Robert had already made sure the alarm was working, and the cop was outside somewhere. And he did have a lot of faith in Sam.

He picked up the gun and carried it with him into the bedroom. The lights were always left on in the pool area, and he could see from the bathroom window that nothing seemed to be disturbing the peace of the yard.

Satisfied, he started for the bedroom. Then he saw her bikini on the floor.

He sniffed, bent to pick it up and tossed it into the trash can. Then he flicked off the bathroom light and silently walked into the bedroom. He slipped the gun beneath his pillow, discarded the towel and crawled in beside her.

He had no intention of waking her. He lay in the comfort of the bed, tired but not sleeping, feeling the luxury of the sheets after the night on the hard deck.

Then she started to move toward him. He turned. She came even closer.

He slipped an arm around her. He smelled the sweet scent of her shampoo in her still-damp hair, and the delicate, subtle scent of the perfumed soap she used. He wasn't going to wake her.…

He stroked the softness of her upper arms. Her back fit provocatively against his chest, and her derriere was right up against a rapidly hardening part of his anatomy. He needed to push her away just a bit.

He set his palm upon her hip, but he didn't quite manage to push. Instead his palms tenderly cupped the curve, then stroked the rounded fullness there with a sensual appreciation. He heard her moan softly. She was still half asleep.…But she was also half awake.

He swept his hand from her hip to her breast. Slowly, he caressed the lushness of her flesh, the tempting hardness of the bud of her nipple. She moved slightly, adjusting her body more tightly against his. He swept his hand over her belly and laid his lips against the nape of her neck, then her earlobe, all the while moving his hands upon her.

He tossed the sheet aside and saw the gleam of her naked flesh in the night glow that touched the room. He groaned.

He stroked the rise of her hips once again, pushed her thigh forward, then thrust himself fully and deeply within her from behind. He heard the sharp intake of her breath and pulled her closer against him. Her scent was sweetly intoxicating. The movement of her body was subtle yet wildly erotic. He kept running his hands over her naked hips and buttocks, then slipped them to her belly, bringing her nearer to meet the force of his thrust. He lost all sense of finesse and thundered against her. The climax rose within him unbearably, his body constricted with the need, with the desire, with the pleasure and the anguish, then seemed to erupt. Shudder after shudder went through him, and he thrust and thrust until he was emptied within her. He heard her cry out softly, and even as he drifted down, he pulled her to him again, loathe to pull away. He stayed within her, just holding her gently.