Hide and Seek (18 page)

"Is that what we are? Just friends?"

He hesitated. "Is this a trick question?"

"No." But she wanted more than friendship from Holt. Noises emanated from his stomach. Would a full belly change his churlish disposition? "You're hungry."

"Oh, yeah."

His gaze caressed and she laughed. “For food. Is a grilled cheese sandwich all right?”

"Sure. Great."

His flat tone stopped her. She faced him, setting her hands onto her hips. "You hate my cooking."

"Steak and potatoes would be grand for a change, Caprice. And for the record…this house smells like lemon cleaner."

"There you go again, picking on my attempts to keep your life in order."

He chucked her chin the driftwood gray in his irises beckoned and invited her to tarry. "You're the most orderly, sexy temptress this side of the Gulf of Mexico. And cute too."

"For the first time in days I feel like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

"Come here.” As she moved into his embrace, he murmured, "We’re alone for the first time. Just this once let's take some time for us.” Holt took full possession of her mouth, rocking his lips over hers. Careful not to touch his busted ribs, she ran her hands over his chest, down his flat stomach, slim hips, and long muscled thighs.

Just this once
.

Yes. She would risk her heart to stowaway a memory. She would allow herself some happiness and will away thoughts of leaving.

He lifted his head, staring through lowered lids, then bent and scooped her high against his chest. Her arm automatically encircled his neck. "You're injured. Put me down."

"Darlin', you're a feather."

He strode down the hall and shoved his bedroom door wide. At the foot of the bed, he let her slide down until her feet touched the carpet. Her emotions crested on a high wave as she searched the smoky depths of his eyes. "I couldn't be here like this if I thought you didn't care."

His hands framed her face. "I care, Caprice. I always will."

This time, she was willing to accept what Holt was capable of giving. His hand slipped behind her neck. He tugged and the zipper slid. Cool air cloaked her back. She shrugged her shoulders and the denim fell to her hips. Caprice pushed the material down her legs. Slipping her shoes off, she kicked them and her dress aside, to stand before him in a pale green bra and matching panties.

Holt's eyes were filled with unmistakable joy as his thumbs rubbed her erect nipples against the thin lace. "This will be special, Caprice."

She reached for him, gripped his tee shirt, and pulled the cotton from his jeans. When it came free, Holt used his uninjured arm to jerk the material over his head and toss it to the floor.

"Holt," she breathed, pressing her lips to his scarred chest. He started to draw away, but she grasped his wrist. "No. You have to trust me."

He exhaled, enfolding her in his arms. "Caprice, I need you."

Her entire being hummed. She wanted to be needed by this tough man even if they had no future. Holt backed away and shucked his jeans, exposing black briefs that barely contained his erection. He nudged her toward the unmade bed, following her down onto the mattress. Holt wrapped his arm under and around her waist and slid her further onto the bed.

Capturing his face between her palms, Caprice pressed her lips to his, but Holt took charge of their kisses. His velvet tongue shot deep, tangling with hers. Her heart pounded as she slid the leather strip from his hair and watched the long, ebony strands glide over his powerful shoulders. An eyebrow arched, and Caprice knew she had breached one of his defenses.

"I've wanted to do that," she admitted.

Taking his time, he pulled the satin bra straps over her shoulders. His gaze followed the movements of his hand as if she was a gift to be unwrapped. With hot moist lips, he captured first one nipple then the other, drawing her deep into his mouth.

"Holt!" She gasped, surprised by her impatience.

"Sweetheart, are you protected?"

Sweetheart
. Her heart sang. "No.”

"I'll take care.”

Holt rolled away and stood in one swift movement. The muscles along his back rippled as he walked to a tall dresser. Outside, thunder rumbled and warned of more afternoon showers, but right now, she wanted only Holt, a golden giant who somewhere along the way had become her sun.

He returned and removed his briefs. Her breath caught. Holt LeBerger was gloriously male. He pressed one knee onto the bed and leaned over her. His eyes glowed, while she shimmered with the force of her feelings, her love.

She grasped his arms. The bunched biceps spoke of his control. "Holt, please."

Time lost importance as he removed her panties, drawing the scrap of lace down her legs along with the last shred of her resolve. In no rush, his hands and lips blazed fiery trails over her stomach, over her heated, quivering flesh.

With maddening slowness, he caressed the inner length of her thighs. Even during intimacy, Holt needed to control her and himself. When he moved over her, his breath seared her skin. "You're so fine-boned, Caprice." He gripped her bottom, centering her beneath him then entered her.

Their gazes locked. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Tell me if..."

"I'm fine."

"Wrap your legs around my back," he commanded softly.

She did and offered him her heart with every thrust of his hips. Aflame, she clutched his shoulders and cried out as she spiraled skyward.

"Caprice!" He slumped and his full weight collapsed upon her like a heavy blanket. When he spoke, his voice shook. "You're perfect, Caprice. So special."

Keeping her with him, Holt rolled onto his side. He gripped her bent leg and pulled her thigh over his hip. "Darlin’, I want to hold you forever and never let go.”

His words made her heart pirouette in its caged confines. The bedclothes rustled as she pushed him onto his back and leaned over his chest. "Then don't,” she whispered, pressing her fingertip into the deep cleft on his chin. "You're good for us, Holt. And we're good for you."

His brow furrowed. "I can't be what you deserve."

"What do you know of my needs?"

"When you go back to West Virginia, you should date again."

Go...date again.
She drew back. She may as well have been savagely bitten.

"Of course. I'll do as you suggest." Caprice braced up onto her elbow and pulled the sheet up to her neck. "I'll sleep with every man who gives me a second look, then report back for your approval."

"That's enough." He grasped her arm, and she fell onto the mattress. Holt snapped the sheet away then moved over her, capturing her legs with his. Caprice swallowed and refused any tears, but she had lied to herself. She couldn't settle for bits and pieces. She wanted all of him, heart and soul.

His expression softened. "I've been honest from the beginning. I'll never love or marry again. I've learned to survive that way. No deposit, no return. Accept that about me."

Her vision blurred. "But it doesn't work that way with me."

It hurt that Holt clung to the harsh memories of those who had betrayed him. His kiss was slow, gentle...apologetic.

Nudging her legs apart with his knee, he entered her again. And this time, their loving was bittersweet and slow as drifting clouds.

Hours later, Caprice’s fingers splayed across the wide expanse of his chest. They had forgotten protection more than once. Her mind spun with the ramifications and then she calmed as suddenly. Holt would never hand her his heart, but she would seize whatever he gave her to cherish.

They showered, dressed, and were waiting in the kitchen when Scott, Melissa, and the children returned. The girls chattered and questioned their uncle about his injuries and Shawn sat on Holt's lap. As Shawn, retold the activities of his fun day to Holt, Caprice translated.

From across the kitchen, Holt's gaze snared hers. Conversations dimmed. The others became a background blur. What was he thinking? Holt had made her feel special. He admitted that he cared for her, but she knew that would never be enough.

Before Melissa left, she pulled Caprice aside and whispered. "You're so transparent. It's easy to see how you feel about my brother, and Holt looks like he might devour you any second now. Can't you make this permanent?"

"No. Holt has his fears. He's taking us to North Florida Regional tomorrow morning to make an eleven o’clock flight.”

Melissa shook her head and reached into her purse. "Here’s my card. If there's anything I can ever do just call. You know where I live."

****

After dinner, distant thunder rumbled a warning. Holt stood from his chair and winked at Caprice. “Much as I’d like to spend every minute with you, Shawn and I have horses to feed and hay.”

“While you’re doing that, I want to contact my sister’s husband on his cell phone, so Grace can have my flight number.”

He nodded. “Use the computer and the phone in the den.”

Caprice watched from the kitchen window as Holt and Shawn walked to the barn. She released a soft laugh when Holt stopped to plunk his Stetson on Shawn’s head. Swallowing a spasm in her throat, she remembered her responsibilities. She had clients who had contracted her for murals, and Shawn needed to return to school.

In the den, Caprice sat behind Holt's desk. Fortunately her brother-in-law had been home and handed his cell to Grace. "The same man in the Yukon was parked across the street yesterday morning," her sister admitted.

“The plaid shirt guy?”

“Yes. I called the police, but he had gone by the time they arrived."

"Did you get the license plate?"

"No.” She released an exasperated breath. “Caprice, you sound like the cops!"

“Great. A man in plaid driving a Yukon.” Caprice rubbed her forehead. “Alan and his creeps are unpredictable."

"I'm just relieved you and Shawn are safe, and I like everything you’ve told me about Holt. Give me his number in case I need to reach you before your flight tomorrow.”

Afterwards, Caprice toyed with a pen, her gaze settling on a cast-iron doorstop of a wolf. Its lips were curled back, exposing jagged teeth. The dog's stance was defensive, forever protective.

When the phone rang, Caprice laughed and snatched up the receiver. "Did you think of something so soon?" The hand on the caller's receiver squeaked as it changed positions. “Grace?”

Her caller’s heavy breathing made her stomach clutch. She slammed the phone into its cradle. Alan! She had experienced his unnerving phone calls since their divorce, yet even now he could wield his terror. Caprice closed her eyes and discovered she was vibrating. How she hated her fear and this entire situation.

It was dark when Caprice sat near Shawn at the kitchen table. Holt finished scooping ice cream and set a bowl in front of Shawn. She decided not to tell Holt about the phone call. He would ask questions, and she was too ashamed of her body-shaking reactions.

She touched Shawn's arm. "Tomorrow, we will fly away." She signed Grace's first initial over her heart. “Aunt Grace misses you.”

An obstinate light entered Shawn’s eyes. He set his spoon down and pointed to Holt. Her heart twisted as Shawn shoved his dessert away and slipped from his chair. He ran from the room, a sob tearing from his throat.

She met Holt's gaze. "Shawn’s been happy here.”

“He deserves a decent life."

She stood, pushed her chair under the table, regarded him, and gathered her thoughts. "Holt…he loves you, and so do I.” How she wanted to breach his protective walls. "When will you give up the past and realize that you're worthy of love?"

He snorted. "Before you lecture me about the past, take a look at yourself. You've given up on oils, an important part of your education and your life. Worse, you won't even try."

Her cheeks burned at the brutal truth. Holt had seen through her façade to her fears. "Repress your feelings if you want,” she snapped, “but you can’t control how others think, or what's written on their hearts."

His lips clamped as a mask dropped over his face. He shoved away from the counter and went to the door, his boot heels thudding a fast rhythm on the tiles. Without looking back, he opened the sliding glass door and stepped into the inky, cricket-filled night.

****

The following morning Caprice folded clothes and set them on the bed in neat piles by the duffle. At breakfast, she and Holt had avoided any volatile subjects. Before he left to look after a sick cow, he promised to return in time to drive them to the airport.

Armor pressed a cold, moist nose above her knee. Absently she stroked his head. Her vision blurred as she tucked a white top into her red shorts. She had fallen for a man who couldn't trust her with his heart. How frustrating was that?

Ten minutes later, Armor still remained. She looked into the shepherd's eyes. "Where's Shawn?”

Shawn was still angry with her, so he could be hiding. Slipping her feet into a pair of flip-flops, Caprice left the room to peer behind the living room drapes and the furniture then raised her voice. “Shawn!”

She searched under beds then remembered that she had not reset the alarm after removing the kitchen garbage. That was thirty minutes ago. Was he in the barn? Holt had instructed Shawn not to approach the huge animals without supervision, but Shawn loved the horses.

Outside, the muggy air was still, a dead calm. The sun blinded and seared. In the distance, dark gray thunderheads gathered like towering gossips. Holt's horses stood in the shade of a spreading live oak as she headed for the barn.

In seconds her eyes adjusted to the shaded aisle way. Mr. Punch lay on the swept cement floor. She stooped to retrieve the toy. “Shawn! Shawn!” The only response was the rising crescendos of katydids.

She berated herself for neglecting to set the alarm as she checked the empty stalls, the hay and tack rooms, but there was no sign of her son.

Caprice spied a flat-edge shovel leaning on a wall near the barn’s entrance. She fought panic as she seized the implement then approached the cattle trailer. With her jaw clamped, she swung the shovel and hit the trailer’s tongue. Surely her son would hear the clang and come to investigate.