Hawk's Haven (12 page)

Although she talked about her father with bitterness, he noticed a quiet pain reflected in the depths of her eyes. She might be angry with Aaron but Hawk got the feeling that she missed him, too. Perhaps more than she wanted to. No matter which side he took on that subject he couldn't win.

"I don't want to talk about your father today.” He rose and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. She let out a sigh of protest at being hoisted from the comfortable chair. "Why don't you have a nice, hot shower while I finish cooking dinner?"

A small sigh escaped from her lips. "Kindness and sensitivity. Now, you're really scaring me, Hawk."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm scaring myself, too."

"Don't start spouting poetry or I might die of fright."

He pointed her in the direction of the bathroom and gave her a gentle push. "Don't worry. The only poems I know aren't fit for mixed company."

"That figures."

He watched her gracefully stride into the bathroom before returning to the kitchen to finish dinner
.

* * * *

Gillian let the warm water caress the tension away. Hawk could be quite charming when he put his mind to it. Maybe the evening wouldn't be the disaster she’d been expecting. To her surprise, she enjoyed his company, although she couldn't understand him.

Why was Hawk so uncomfortable with his heritage? His attitudes and manners were more like those of the snobs she’d grown up with. Except when he was around family. Hawk never completely shed the mask he wore in public, however he was less guarded. What would it take to make him feel relaxed around her? The obvious answer sent a hot current surging though her body.

A blast of cold water shocked her from her fantasy world with a startled yelp. She reached for the faucets and quickly shut off the water. So much for her long, hot shower.  Apparently the brilliant lawyer couldn't conclude that kitchen pipes and bathroom pipes ran off the same water heater.

She reached for a towel and wrapped it around her body. Although she was more than modestly covered by the plush bath sheet, she checked the hall before darting to the bedroom to change. She struggled to pull the form fitting mini-dress over her hips as the slinky fabric clung to her damp skin.

Hawk was still working in the kitchen when she came up behind him. "That was fast.”  As he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes seemed to double in size. Her outfit, a departure from her baggy shifts, commanded his full attention.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"That dress ought to be illegal.”  He shook his head violently. "Sorry. Have a seat. Dinner will be ready soon."

"In a moment.” She lifted up the lid on the skillet and peeked inside. "It smells good."

"So do you.” He stood behind her. Though he made no physical contact she was aware of every muscle of his body.  He rested his hands on the counter, pinning her in place. The man certainly knew how to invade her space. "What's the name of that perfume you're wearing?"

"Baby Powder."

The warm breath of his laughter tickled her neck. She turned in the small circle of his arms and leaned back against the counter.

He reached behind her with his hand and tugged gently on the bottom of her braid until she gazed up into his slate grey eyes. "Are you going to deck me if I kiss you?"

"I can't be sure until you try. Are you a gambler?"

"Not normally," he muttered and lowered his head to take the risk anyway. He brushed his mouth over hers, flicking the edge of her lips with his tongue. His hands moved along her back, pulling her closer with each tender stroke.

Gillian became lost in the heady power of his kiss. She snuggled against his chest. Her last conscious thought was that she wished she’d made him keep his promise not to wear a shirt.

Her lips parted under the pressure of his mouth. His tongue plunged deep inside, filling her, teasing her until it was a torment.  Heat burned a path through her body and settled in her lower abdomen where the evidence of his own excitement pressed firmly against her.

Hawk sprinkled a line of kisses down the side of her face. He nipped playfully at her gold earring and sucked on her lobe, sending shivering tingles of delight down her spine. His large hand cupped her breast. Using his thumb and index finger, he massaged the erect nipple through the fabric of her dress, showing no mercy until she let out a cry. Never had she experienced such an exquisite torture. She didn't want the feeling to end.

Long past the point of being shocked by her own behavior, she slid her hands into his back pockets and held him as she arched in even closer. She rotated her hips in circular motion, drawing a muffled groan of pleasure from deep in Hawk's throat. He matched his movements to hers, in a seductive dance that made the tango seem like a fox trot by comparison.

Slowly she became aware of a bubbling sound followed by a loud hiss. She opened her eyes. White foam spewed over a pot like Mount St. Helen in full eruption. The sight so visually paralleled her emotions that she stared for a few seconds without reacting.

She had been desperately close to the edge and they still had their clothes on. She could only imagine what it would be like to lay down next to him naked and feel his hot skin against hers.

"The water is boiling over," she finally mumbled as she stepped out of his embrace.

"So am I," he grunted. He turned off the stove with a sharp twist of his wrist and looked in the pot of starchy white water.  "It's a lost cause."

Gillian pulled at the bottom of her dress, which had risen up so that it was embarrassingly close to covering nothing at all.  "A little cold water will help."

He cocked his eyebrow. "You or the linguini?"

She laughed. "The linguini.”  Only an ice bath would help her.

"I'll start it over again.”  Hawk seemed genuinely disappointed that their dinner had been spoiled. If he was worried about making a lasting impression this evening he’d already left an indelible mark in her mind.

"Don't bother. I'm so hungry, anything will taste good to me."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a devilish grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Somehow, I knew you would."

Hawk made no attempt to pick up where they had left off before they were so rudely interrupted. Instead, he directed her to a chair while he finished cooking. He worked silently, but when he glanced at her, she knew he was remembering what had passed.

The conversation during dinner stayed to the safer subjects of politics and religion, yet Gillian was aware that their relationship had taken new direction. Hawk was more open, even joking that his friend, Chef Gino was going to kill him for messing up the small task of boiling water.

While he cleared the dishes, she went outside to pick some strawberries for des
s
ert. When she returned, he was sitting in front of the sofa. He placed a pillow on the floor and waited for her to join him.

"I raided your garden," she said and placed a hand full of the red fruit on the coffee table in front of them.

"Remind me to sue you."

"I can't afford it. I'll have to eat the evidence.”  She popped a ripe berry in her mouth. The sweet taste lingered after she swallowed. "Pure heaven."

He slipped his arm around her and eased her into the crook of his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't have some Iroquois blood?"

"Why?"

"The people of the Longhouse religion believe that the road to heaven is lined with strawberries. Hence the Strawberry Thanksgiving. To celebrate the first fruit of the year and remember those who have left this life."

She glanced up at him. "Is that true or did you just make that up?"

He placed one hand across his chest. "Honest Injun."

Gillian felt a surge
of pleasure that he’d finally shared a small part of his heritage without becoming defensive or belligerent.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he asked.

"Do I need a reason?"

"No. But now it's my turn to ask questions.” She started to protest and he placed a silencing finger to her lips. "A deal is a deal. I fed you and dazzled you with my fascinating wit."

"I could argue the point of your fascinating wit..."

"One question," he said seriously. "What happened the day you were arrested?"

She let out a small laugh. "The Superior Fruit Packing plant disagreed with my politics. Which isn’t all that upsetting since I disagreed with theirs.”

“Fair enough. But when did you become interested in the plight of the migrant worker?”

“When I became aware of just how deplorable their conditions are.”

“It’s been that way for years, Gillian. It’s not a new issue.”

For her the issue was new and very personal. Her cousin had grown up in the migrant camps when she should have been entitled to the same luxuries and opportunities Gillian had been given. That guilt had plagued her for the past six months. “I’ll admit that I probably deserved the title Princess. My life in Butler Square was very sheltered. I thought I was doing my part by attending charity functions. Until I learned just how little of the money raised actually went to the people it was supposed to help.”

“Did you have to be so publically involved? Chaining yourself to the front gates and allowing the press to interview you is somewhat extreme.”

“It’s different when you get to know someone personally. And believe it or not, it had absolutely nothing to do with embarrassing my father.”

“Then why didn’t you explain your position to Aaron? He might have understood.”

If her father hadn’t found the opportunity to tell her about her cousin in twenty-four years, he certainly had no intention of ever telling her.

"He wouldn't have approved no matter what I told him. Just look at how he chose to punish me when I stood up for what I believed in."

Thoughts of her father put an end to her calm mood. There wasn't much about her life her father had approved of since she went away to college but she’d always found a way to keep peace. She gazed up at Hawk. No, Aaron definitely wouldn't approve of her relationship with Hawk.

By the hint of sorrow in his eyes, she guessed he knew it too. "I'm sure your father believed he was doing what was best. The last year you'd been coming in at all hours of the morning without explanation. Maybe he thought you needed help. Haven't you ever heard of tough love?” Apparently, her father had been a virtual fountain of misinformation.

"I wasn’t hanging around with wild rebels that kept me out until all hours. I did volunteer work at a woman's clinic in one of the migrant camps."

"Why didn't you tell Aaron?"

"First of all, he never asked. And even if he knew, he would have stopped me. It's not dignified for a woman in my position to be seen in one of those places unless it's for a ribbon cutting ceremony.” She closed her eyes and expelled a deep breath.

Her mind drifted back to her first summer job between high school and college. She’d lasted two days before her father put an end to her career as a burger chef by having her fired. Instead, Aaron pacified her by putting her to work in his office, where her most arduous task had been informing the clerks how she liked her coffee.

Still, she’d never stood up to him. Even after she’d found out about her mother, Aunt June and Elena, she’d walked a tightrope between two separate lives rather than confront her father. She couldn’t do it anymore. No matter what it cost her, she
had
to follow what she believed.

  "Where are you?" Hawk's barely whispered question chased away the old ghosts.

S
he owed him an explanation, but she wasn’t ready. Her once idyllic life had become so complicated and she was still trying to come to terms with many of the changes herself. "Sorry. I'm tired, I guess."

"I should go.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. As he rose, he pulled her to her feet. Although she didn't want him to leave, she wasn't sure if she was ready to deal with the outcome if he stayed.

She followed him to the door. He turned back and she noticed a tightly controlled hunger burning in his eyes.

"You don't have to go," she blurted out before she lost her nerve.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek and left his hand resting along the side of her face. "If I don't, we both know where this will end."

"I thought that's what you wanted."

"So did I.” His laugh was tinged with irony. "But I want more. You don't trust me yet.” He cut off her denial with a kiss.  Before she could react, he released her and took a step back. "Maybe tomorrow we could..."

"I'm going back to the city tomorrow."

A frown creased his forehead. "You don't have to."

"I’m meeting with...a friend."

She saw his doubt and wished she could explain more. But Hawk was right when he said she didn't trust him. Not entirely. She couldn't take the chance that he might unintentionally tell her father where and with whom she spent her weekends.