Jayne Ann Krentz (9 page)

“Aunt Isabel always said that you and your grandfather had problems from the day you hit puberty because the two of you were so much alike.” She filled the kettle and set it on the stove.

“I've heard that theory before.” Rafe gave Winston one last pat, got to his feet, and came to stand in the arched doorway. He propped one shoulder against the frame and crossed his arms. “Neither Mitchell nor I believes it.”

She was intensely aware of him taking up space in the kitchen. She could feel his disturbing gaze following her every move as she went about the business of preparing a pot of tea.

“It's true, you know,” she said gently. “You're both strong-willed, arrogant, independent, and downright bullheaded at times. The two of you probably have the same motto.”

“What's that?”

“Never apologize, never explain.”

He contrived to look hurt. “Had it occurred to you that I might have something in common with your dog?”

“Such as?”

He smiled humorlessly. “I might actually believe you when you tell me what you really think about me.”

She raised her brows at that. “I can't see you giving much credence to anyone else's opinions.”

“Shows how much you know. I'm only human.”

“Got proof of that?”

“Okay, I'll accept strong-willed, arrogant, and independent.” He gave her a derisive look. “But I object to the last part. What makes you say I'm bullheaded?”

She smiled with cool triumph. “Your refusal to talk about how we're going to deal with the problem of Dreamscape.”

“Huh. That.”

“Yes, that.”

He raised one shoulder very casually. “Well, hell, nobody's perfect.”

“Except Winston, of course,” she added swiftly, in case Winston had overhead the remark and had started to worry.

There was a short silence.

“Mitchell said something else while we were in the garden,” Rafe said eventually.

She glanced at him over her shoulder as she dropped a large pinch of tea into the pot. “What was that?”

He watched her with shuttered eyes. “He told me it was about time I got married.”

For some reason her stomach tightened. She hoped it wasn't the grilled salmon they'd had at dinner. It had tasted so good going down, but fish could be tricky.

“Well,” she said. “Talk about pressure.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm sure you responded by telling him to stay out of your personal affairs.” She concentrated hard on the teakettle, willing it to boil quickly.

Rafe said nothing.

A tiny shriek rose from the kettle. Close enough, she decided. Grateful for the small distraction, she hastily poured the hot water into the pot.

It was okay, she thought a moment later. She was cool now. But when she turned around with her most polished smile firmly in place, she discovered that Rafe had left the doorway and was now standing less than two feet away.

Much too close.

“I didn't come straight out and say it in so many words.” Rafe's eyes never left her face. “But you're right. I made it clear that I'd do what I wanted to do.”

“As usual.”

“Yeah.”

She tried to think of something clever to say in response to that. She wound up clearing her throat instead.

“And what do you want to do?”

“Right now I want to kiss you.”

She went very still. The really scary part, she realized, was that she wanted the same thing. She had a hunch that he could see it in her eyes.

She licked her lips and asked the only question that mattered. “Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“Yes.” She could feel the counter pressing against her lower back. She put her arms out on either side and gripped the curved tile edge. “Yes, I think so. Especially given the situation here.”

“Situation?”

“You. Me. Dreamscape.”

“What happens if I can't come up with any reason except the fact that I want to kiss you?”

“The important thing,” she explained very carefully, “the really crucial thing, is that the reason, whatever it is, must have nothing to do with Dreamscape.”

He raised his hands and slowly folded them around the nape of her neck. His palms were warm and heavy against her skin. She could feel the strength in him but sensed the control. The combination was electrifying.

His thumbs moved gently just behind her ears. He eased her head back slightly and lowered his mouth to hers.

“This has nothing to do with the mansion,” he said against her lips. “You have my word on it.”

The kiss was a real one this time, not the chaste, meaningless little brush of the lips he had bestowed on her that night when he had walked her home. And it was just exactly what she had always suspected it would be: devastating.

Excitement sparked along every nerve ending. The effect was not unlike touching a match to extremely dry kindling. The flames erupted without warning, fierce and intense. A liquid heat welled somewhere in the region below her stomach. She was aware of the beat of her own heart. The breathless sensation would probably have warranted a trip to the emergency room under other circumstances.

Rafe deepened the kiss with slow deliberation.

The stuff of teenage fantasies, she thought. Except that no teenager could have appreciated just how good the kiss really was. Only an adult woman who had learned the hard way that real life was seldom this great could savor the finer points and the little nuances here.

Rafe crowded her gently up against the counter. She could feel the unmistakable shape of his erection pressed against her thigh.

Okay, so not all of the nuances here were little.

His mouth slanted across hers. He drew his palms down her throat and covered her breasts. A great urgency went through her. With an effort, she managed to let go of the counter edge. She heard him say something that probably would have gotten him arrested if he had said it in public. He made no effort to conceal his hunger. The knowledge that he wanted her played havoc with the last shreds of her common sense.

Just a kiss, she thought. How much damage could one kiss do?

She heard someone moan softly. Probably her, she decided. Not real cool. It was only a kiss, after all. But at the moment she did not care if she was demonstrating a distinct lack of worldly sophistication. The only thing that mattered was getting her arms around Rafe's neck.

The instant she achieved her goal she heard a husky groan. Not her this time. Rafe.

His hands tightened abruptly. She could feel his control slipping away. She wondered if he was aware of it. Then she wondered what she would do if it vanished altogether. Would she care? Should she care?

The world tilted on its axis. She realized vaguely that Rafe had scooped her up into his arms. A shiver went through her.

He paused briefly to switch off the lights. Then he carried her out of the kitchen into the living room. There he put her down on the aging sofa and lowered himself on top of her. His lips went to her throat. She could have sworn she felt his teeth. Another zinging thrill shot through her. She was shivering now. The weight of his body crushed her into the cushions.

At the sound of dog claws scratching on wood, she opened her eyes for a split second. In the shadows she caught a glimpse of Winston hurrying up the stairs to the second floor. Embarrassed by the unseemly behavior taking place on the sofa, no doubt.

She ought to be embarrassed too, she thought. And maybe she would be. Later.

In the meantime, her body was singing a fascinating melody. She had caught a few chords of this particular tune from time to time over the years, but she had never experienced the grand finale.

She felt one of Rafe's hands slide beneath her sweater. The clasp of her bra dissolved at his touch. When his thumb lightly touched her nipple she almost screamed. It was as though every inch of her had been sensitized. She was in some never-never land where the line between acute pleasure and pain was murky.

“I've been thinking all day that it would be like this,” Rafe muttered into the curve of her shoulder. “I was going crazy waiting to find out.”

His hand moved over the curve of her hip. She felt his fingers on the zipper of her slacks. Things were moving swiftly. Much too swiftly. But she could not seem to summon up a lot of good reasons for calling a halt.

She heard Winston on the stairs again. For some reason the knowledge that her dog had returned to the scene cleared some of the fog from her brain.

“I think this is far enough,” she managed to get out.

“Not nearly.” Rafe peeled up the edge of her sweater and kissed one of her breasts. “I've been wanting you since you got here.”

“That's nice.”

He went very still. Then he raised his head and looked down at her with gleaming eyes. “Nice?”

“I'm flattered. Honest.”

“Flattered,” he repeated carefully. “Great. Flattered. Shit.”

She swallowed. “I don't want you to think I'm a prude, or anything, but—”

“But you're still Miss Goody Two-Shoes, is that it?”

“Not exactly.” She was starting to grow annoyed. “It's just that in a lot of ways you and I are strangers.”

“You're a Harte. I'm a Madison. The way I look at it, we've known each other most of our lives.”

She blinked. “That's certainly an interesting viewpoint. Maybe it's even true in certain ways. But something of an oversimplification, don't you think?”

“Do you always talk like this on a date?”

“That wasn't a date we had tonight. I did you a favor.”

His smile was infinitely slow, infinitely seductive. “Well, in that case, allow me to repay it.” He started to lower his mouth to hers once more.

She braced her hands on his shoulders to stop him. “My point—”

He gave her a look of polite surprise. “You mean you've actually got one?”

“My point,” she continued grimly, “is that, although we've known of each other's
existence
most of our lives, it's stretching things to imply that we've been anything more than distant acquaintances. I still say we're strangers as far as this kind of thing is concerned.”

“Shush.” He covered her mouth with the palm of his hand.

“Mmmph?” Outraged, she grabbed his wrist and tried to yank his hand away from her lips.

She was so intent on telling him in no uncertain terms that she did not find this kind of stuff a turn-on that it took her a few seconds to realize he was not paying any attention to her. She finally noticed that he was lying much too still, his head turned toward the front door.

She heard a very soft whine. Winston was standing at the door again, just as he had done last night. His alert, watchful tension radiated clear across the room.

“He hears something.” Rafe took his hand away from Hannah's mouth. He kept his eyes on the dog as he sat up on the edge of the sofa.

“Probably an animal prowling for garbage.” Hannah hastily pulled her clothing back into place. “A skunk, maybe. Or cats.”

“Probably.” Rafe watched Winston intently.

Hannah sat up slowly. “He did this last night, too.”

Rafe got to his feet and crossed the room to where Winston vibrated at the door. He halted at the window and pulled aside the curtain. “Fog's so thick now you can't see past the edge of the porch.”

Winston whined softly. He glanced at Rafe and then at the door and then back at Rafe. The message was clear. He wanted to go outside to investigate.

A cold chill went through Hannah. It was the same disturbing sensation she'd experienced last night.

“Whatever it is, it's not coming too close to the house,” she said quickly. “Winston would be barking like crazy if there was a critter in the bushes at the edge of the porch.”

“Sure.” Rafe reached for the doorknob. Winston strained forward, preparing to streak through the crack in the door as soon as it appeared.

Real fear galvanized Hannah. Everything in her was suddenly focused on the danger of opening the front door.

“What, are you crazy?” She leaped to her feet and rushed across the room. She bent down to seize Winston's collar. “You can't send him outside. He was raised in a high-rise apartment in the middle of a city, for heaven's sake. He knows nothing about wild animals. Whatever's out there might be a lot bigger and meaner than he is.”

Winston tried to pull free of her grasp. He was trembling with eagerness. His nose did not waver from the crack between the door and the frame.

Rafe glanced down at him. “Okay, city dog. Stay inside and be a sissy. I'll handle this on my own.”

“Oh, no, you don't.” Exasperated, Hannah released Winston and threw herself in front of the door, arms spread wide. “You're not going out there, either.”

Rafe looked amused. “Doubt if whatever is out there is bigger or meaner than me. This is Eclipse Bay, remember? Crime rate around here is almost nonexistent.”

Winston whined again and bobbed restlessly at Rafe's heels.

Hannah glared at both of them. She did not budge from her position in front of the door. Frantically she searched for a rational, sensible reason for refusing to allow either male outside.

“Cut the raging testosterone, you two. Let's have a little common sense here, shall we? It is entirely possible that there's a skunk outside. Does either of you have any idea of just how long it would take to get rid of the smell if you got sprayed? You'd both have to sleep on the beach for a week.”

“Don't think it's a skunk.” Rafe looked thoughtful. “A skunk would head straight for the garbage cans. We'd have heard the clatter by now.”

“If it's not a skunk, it might be something worse,” she said through her teeth. “Maybe somebody's pit bull or Rottweiler got loose. For all you know, there's a whole pack of vicious dogs out there.”

“Speaking of common sense,” Rafe said mildly, “I think that theory is a bit weak.”

“I don't care. It's my theory and I'm sticking to it. Neither of you is going out there and that's final. Besides, you just got through saying that the fog was so thick you couldn't see beyond the edge of the porch. It makes no sense to go floundering around in the stuff.”

Rafe looked at her. She realized that he was laughing silently.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing.” He pulled the curtain aside again and peered thoughtfully out into the darkness. “Just occurred to me that if you don't let me outside, I won't be able to get home tonight, that's all.”

She hesitated. “You can leave after Winston relaxes.”

“Can't see a damn thing in that muck.”

“You can leave your car here and walk home.”

He dropped the curtain. His eyes gleamed.

“
Now
what?” she snapped.

“What if someone drives past your house early tomorrow morning and sees my car parked in front?”

She sighed. “Half the town already thinks the worst, anyway.”

“Okay, then what about the pack of maddened Rottweilers and pit bulls I'll have to confront if I walk home?”

She moved just far enough from the position in front of the door to lift the curtain. A single glance outside showed that the fog was an impenetrable barrier. The light from the yellow lamp over the door was reflected back from what looked like a solid gray wall.

She looked at Winston. He was now pacing restlessly in front of the door. Whatever it was that he sensed was still out there. She made an executive decision.

“We'll drink the tea I made,” she said. “If nothing has changed by the time we finish, you can sleep on the sofa tonight.”

“Okay,” Rafe said much too easily.

Winston lost interest in whatever lay out in the fog about the same time they finished the tea. But when Rafe checked the view from the window he was pleased to see that the mist had not dissipated. If anything, it was thicker than ever.

Luck was with him tonight.

Hannah came to stand behind him. She peered over his shoulder. “How does it look?”

“Like a great night for mad dogs and skunks.”