Life Is A Beach (Mills & Boon Silhouette): Life Is A Beach / A Real-thing Fling (14 page)

It took Karma only a New York nanosecond to decide that noncommittal was the key here. “Mmm,” she said, though she hoped he wouldn’t tell her more than she wanted to know. It wouldn’t do for her to burst into tears the way she had done last night with Paulette.

“First of all,” Slade said slowly, “she isn’t my type.”

“You said you wanted someone petite and blond.”

“Never mind what I said. And she took me to this place with a band called Shrimp—”

“—Shemp,” Karma corrected him. “It’s called Shemp.”

“Right. Anyway, she wore a dress that looked as if it was made for a six-year-old, judging from how short it was, and too much jewelry. And no underwear.”

“
Eeek!
How did you find that out?” She was almost morbidly curious, considering the fake nipples.

Slade cut a look sideways at her. “I didn’t find out the way you’re thinking I did. She kept falling out of the top of the dress, that’s how. I have no knowledge of whether she was wearing panties, but I suspect not.”

“I think,” Karma said faintly, “I’d rather not hear any more.” It wasn’t ethical or prudent to talk about one client with another. But if Jennifer kept falling out of her dress, and if she had been wearing artificial nipples, wouldn’t Slade have seen them? And if so, would he remark about them, or would he spare her the anguish of hearing that particular detail?

“Jennifer
is so far from what I’m looking for that she might as well be from outer space. In fact, we’d be better off if that’s where women like her lived. They could mate with aliens, who might be more to their taste than ordinary guys like me.”

Slade was far from ordinary, but Karma liked hearing this part. Still, she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut until Slade suggested hitting a Burger King drive-through for lunch, and he almost convinced her to order a Whopper.

Karma had never in her life eaten a Whopper, and when she saw the mouthwatering picture of it on the order board, she almost caved. She made herself ask for a salad and a large order of fries instead, but the scent of onion and pickle and catsup and most of all, meat, stayed with her. Ever since scarfing down that corned beef hash at the stilt house, Karma hadn’t been able to shake her craving.

Slade was in a hurry to get to the ranch, so they ate on the way. Karma found it interesting that as they drew closer to Okeechobee City, the serene Everglades scenery, complete with expanses of saw grass and cypress tree hammocks rising out of the saw grass like a mirage, changed to fenced green pastures.

“This is all Braddock land,” Slade said expansively as he waved an arm out the open window of the Suburban. “As far as you can see.”

Karma smoothed her skirt nervously, wondering what Slade’s parents would think of her. Before she’d left her apartment, she had vetoed her chartreuse feather earrings as too outrageous, and she had removed her green nail polish. The sundress was a relatively innocuous teal-blue; it wasn’t low-cut enough to show off anything much.

“Here we are,” Slade said. She inched forward on her seat as Slade slowed the vehicle and turned down a blindingly white shell-rock road. The sign spanning it said Diamond B Ranch.

“I can’t wait for Ma and Pop to meet you,” Slade told her, and Karma wondered what he’d told his parents. By this time, she could hardly wait to meet the elderly couple who had sent their son off with their blessings to find a wife in Miami Beach.

The Suburban followed the drive as it curved around
palmetto trees and pines, thickets and a pond. Once their passage startled a covey of quail, which scattered into the brush. Another time they skirted a pasture where curious cattle hung their heads over the fence and watched until they were out of sight.

Soon the ranch house loomed up behind a copse of scrub oaks festooned with long beards of Spanish moss, and Slade drove over a cattle guard with a startling
thump-bump!
“Keeps the cattle from straying into the yard and eating Ma’s prize double hibiscus,” he said in answer to Karma’s questioning look.

When he stopped in front of the house, Karma was in awe. It was a big two-story building constructed of old brick. Four sturdy columns reaching to the height of the second story’s roof fronted the porch, and on the porch sat an assortment of rocking chairs, their cushions covered in a bright flowery print. The effect was charming.

As Karma climbed down from the front seat of the Suburban, she heard a motorcycle approaching hell-bent-for-leather down the driveway. It raced around the oaks, flew over the cattle guard, and screeched to a stop inches from Karma’s feet.

The petite rider unstraddled the seat and yanked off the helmet to reveal a short cap of wispy platinum-blond hair. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her black leather vest to reveal ample cleavage and a tattoo of a fawn’s head, all the while treating Karma to a brilliant smile.

“Whee, doggie!” she whooped, slapping Karma on the back so that Karma had to grasp the open door of the Suburban to keep from sprawling headlong in the dirt. “It looks like Slade has finally found him a bride.”

Slade strode
around the car and threw out his arms. “Hi, Ma,” he said.

S
O MUCH FOR THE GRAY-HAIRED
traditional mother that Karma had been expecting. She learned in short order that Bambi Braddock was a former exotic dancer with a Ph.D. and a liking for Jack Daniel’s. She had married Slade’s father, Norton, after he wandered into a conference room in Las Vegas where she was presenting a paper on neutron something-or-other, and he had fallen madly in love and married her that very weekend in a little chapel down the road. They were still crazy about each other, to hear Bambi tell it.

“Oh, he’s my man, no doubt about it, and always will be. He rides a Hog, too,” Bambi had explained as the three of them became acquainted over drinks. Sure enough, before long Slade’s father roared up on his own Harley-Davidson. He was as tall as Slade, suntanned and fit, with piercing blue eyes and a silver stud earring in one ear. He strode into the living room, greeted Karma, and poured his own Scotch, all the while expressing his enthusiasm for Karma, for Slade, for marriage, and for the prices he’d get for his cattle at market.

Karma, still
in shock at her inaccurate assumptions about Slade’s parents, sipped a demure lemonade containing a sprig of mint while wondering why Slade had never mentioned that his parents were as unconventional as hers, albeit in a different way. Why, she could have worn her earrings with the feathers on them; she could have shown up in a G-string for all these people would have cared.

After drinks, Bambi showed Karma to her room before she went to supervise the cook, who was preparing dinner. “You go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” Slade’s mother told her. “Kick back and relax some. After all, this will soon be your home.”

“Oh, but—”

Bambi hugged her, and her eyes sparkled. “I’m so glad Slade has finally found the perfect person for him. We can talk about the wedding later.”

“I don’t—”

“Not now, dear. Josefina will call you when dinner’s ready.” And with that, Bambi was gone, trailing the scent of what smelled a lot like Chanel No. 5, an oddly traditional choice for such a free spirit.

Karma liked Bambi. She liked Norton. But they’d have to understand that she was only visiting and was not Slade’s intended bride.

Karma’s room had its own bath with a whirlpool tub and overlooked the pond behind the house. Accommodations at the Braddocks’ house were sumptuous and charming, she thought as she sat down at the vanity and bundled her hair into a scrunchy. Her conservative sundress made her snicker. So much for hoping to impress Slade’s elderly parents. Boy, had she got that wrong.

“Karma?” It was Slade knocking on her door.

She went to the door and flung it open. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded as he leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed and regarding her with a mild grin. “Parents who ride motorcycles. A mother with a tattoo. You let me think they were ordinary folks.”

He looked disconcerted. “Aren’t they?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “No, they’re not. They’re a little on the wild side.”

He guffawed
at this. “Can’t wait to tell Ma what you think of her,” he said.

“Don’t you dare! I like her. But, Slade, your parents seem to think that we’re engaged.”

He eased into the room and quirked his eyebrows. “I’ll explain to them later that we’re only having sex. If that would make you happy, that is.”

Karma reminded herself that this was serious business. “I know you’re joking. I know you wouldn’t do that. And besides, we only had sex once.”

He came over and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Couldn’t you refer to it as ‘making love?’ Also, I intend to address the lack-of-frequency problem ASAP.”

“I wouldn’t feel right about making love, as you so quaintly choose to call it, in your parents’ house.”

He became suddenly serious. “It
was
making love. For me, Karma, it was a beautiful experience. I’d hoped it was for you, too.”

“Oh, Slade, things are happening so fast. Yes, it was wonderful. It was magic, it was firecrackers on the Fourth of July, it was all the things a woman dreams about. But I haven’t known you long. I’ve been caught up in the excitement of it from the very first moment I set eyes on you, and I’ll admit that it’s a heady experience, but—” She let the words dangle, not knowing how to finish and afraid that she had said too much.

Slade smoothed a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me, Karma. Ever.”

She drew a deep breath, let it out. She felt suddenly shy, didn’t know where to look. She wasn’t ready for a heavy discussion about her emotions; she wasn’t prepared to hear about his and thought maybe she should be. “Well,” she said shakily, attempting a smile. “Now what?”

His expression
was tender, and understanding glimmered in the depths of his eyes. He adopted a light tone. “As it happens, I told Josefina to hold dinner. Want to walk over to the barn and meet Lightning?”

Karma grasped at this idea, a lifeline. “Your horse? Sure.”

Taking her hand in his, he led her down a flight of service stairs and out through the laundry room into the steamy outside air. A mockingbird flitted up out of a palmetto tree, and on the pond, a flock of white ducks paddled lazily. They walked around a large screen pool enclosure where the pool, bordered by colorful patterned tile, shimmered in the sun. The barn was almost hidden behind a grove of pine trees and, once they left the pool enclosure, was reached by a pathway paved with mellow old brick.

“I didn’t know you lived on such a grand scale,” Karma said as she walked alongside Slade taking things in. The house seemed enormous after her small apartment, and from here, she could see the two wings that were hidden from the front. “You never mentioned that you had servants.”

“There’s only Josefina, though she hauls in squadrons of nieces and nephews when it’s time to clean house.”

“Like spring cleaning? Do people still do that?” she asked.

Slade laughed. “Don’t you?”

“Cleaning house isn’t high on my list of priorities.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so interesting, Karma. You don’t get bogged down in details.”

Karma followed him down the central passageway through the barn to a stall in the rear as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. As they approached, the horse’s head nosed over the top of the half-door. “Lightning, this is Karma,” Slade said as she reached up a tentative hand to stroke the horse’s neck.

The horse was coal-black with a distinctive zigzag patch of white down the center of his face. He whinnied and pawed at the straw on the floor. “See?” said Slade, looking pleased. “He likes you.”

“I
don’t know much about horses,” Karma said doubtfully, though horses didn’t look nearly as big to her as they had when she was a child.

“You’ve never ridden?”

“We had horses on the commune when I was a kid. I remember that I liked riding them until one scraped me off under a low tree limb. That was the end of my horseback-riding days.”

“You’ll ride Millie, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Come over and meet her.”

Millie was a docile mare who hung her head over the door of her stall with interest when they walked up. “She’ll take to you even more if you give her this,” Slade said. From his pocket he produced a carrot.

Karma held the carrot flat on the palm of her hand until Millie’s lips and teeth ever so gently removed it.

“She looks so appreciative,” Karma said. “As if she didn’t expect someone to come along and give her something special.”

“It’s easy to tell what horses are thinking. Unlike most people. Except for you, of course.”

Karma ignored this pronouncement and scratched Millie behind her ears, then took her time walking slowly down the row of stalls, inspecting the horses within. When she reached the door to the outside, she noticed dark thunder-clouds rolling in from the west.

Slade saw her watching them and started toward her. “I forgot to tell you. Here in the Glades we have a shower almost every afternoon.”

“At least we’re not out in a boat,” she said as raindrops began to patter down into the dust outside, leaving little pockmarks.

“Yes. We’re in a nice comfortable barn.” He moved closer, so close that she could feel the heat from his body.

“So
you claim to know what horses are thinking?” she asked. He was making her nervous, standing only a few inches away.

“Oh, most of the time.”

“And how did you arrive at this ability?”

“I’ve always had it. If you ask me, horses are so much easier to understand than women.”

“Except for me, right?”

“Right. I can pretty much figure you out.” She didn’t doubt that he thought he was speaking the truth, but the statement smacked of arrogance and seemed to require a challenge.

“Even though I’m not a lot like you? Even though I’m a vegetarian and don’t ride and have never set eyes upon the Everglades before today?”

To her dismay, the last couple of words caught in her throat as Slade moved closer and planted one hand on the wall on either side of her, effectively caging her there. Outside, the rain began to pour down in sheets, steam swirling up from the warm ground.

“I like to think I know you,” he said evenly. “Some people you feel as if you’ve known forever.”

“It could be karma,” she breathed. “Destiny.”

“Oh, it’s Karma, all right. You.”

“What makes you think that I’m your type, anyway? I’m certainly not what you ordered.” She wished he’d move his hands; she wished his eyes wouldn’t burn into her like that. This certainly wasn’t the way to slow things down.

“Karma, I think you’re my type because I can’t be around you without wanting to kiss you and hold you. And you can’t tell me that you don’t recognize the chemistry, otherwise you wouldn’t have such a hard time breathing when I’m around.”

He was much too perceptive. She struggled to think of something, anything, to say. Over in one of the stalls, a horse bumped against the wooden wall. Outside something cried, “Help! Help!”

Startled,
Karma asked, “What was that?”

“Oh, just one of the peacocks. That’s their cry. They’re taking cover because of the rain.”

“You have peacocks? You never mentioned peacocks.”

“I have the hots for you, Karma O’Connor, and I don’t believe I’ve mentioned that either.”

The way Slade was looking at her made her feel as if she were melting. It was only the heat, the steamy heat, she told herself, but it felt as if the air was on fire between them. Worse yet, her neck itched. She tried to move within the confines of his arms, but he refused to budge. A horsefly buzzed around her head, but neither of them brushed it away. It flew out into the rain, leaving them behind in the somnolent barn where the only sound now was their breathing. In her own ears, she heard the primitive pounding of her blood. It was almost enough to blot out everything else, but she forced herself to ignore it.

Slade’s head dipped lower, and his lips parted. She knew how he kissed now, slow and sexy and as if he couldn’t get enough. Hungrily. Demandingly, sometimes.

“You’re going to kiss me, aren’t you? Well, go ahead. Get it over with. And then we can go into the house and eat dinner. And I can try to act as if nothing happened out here at all.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper. Her neck still itched. Her heart was pounding. It occurred to her that what she felt was more like an allergic reaction than a sexual attraction. All that was missing was a sneeze, and she could manufacture one of those easily enough if she inhaled deeply enough of the dust in the air. Straw dust, it was. Stable dust. She drew in a breath, sucking it deeply into her lungs. The dust-heavy air tickled her nostrils, but she didn’t sneeze. She closed her eyes, feeling heavy and slow. If she’d had to run, she wouldn’t have been able to. The
torpor that had settled down upon her licked at her resolve with an edgy excitement, a flutter of desire.

“Open your eyes, Karma.” His command came as a surprise, but she obeyed it. Slade’s face was so close that she could have reached out and flicked his lips with the tip of her tongue. A crazy notion, one that she should ignore. But the funny thing was, she found herself doing it. Without thinking about it, without even knowing why she did it, she slid her tongue out of her mouth and touched it daintily to his lower lip.

“Oh, Karma,” he said, and while she was still regretting this ridiculous thing she had just done, wishing she could scratch her neck, wishing she didn’t always ruin everything by doing something stupid, he folded her into his arms.

He was undone by her, by her simple sensuality. Through the familiar scents of stable, of horses, of hay and feed and saddle leather, of rain and green growing things, Slade could only smell the fresh sweet scent of Karma, and it was the scent of a woman who was ripe and ready for love. The quiet involuntary moan in the back of her throat let him know that she liked this, that she wanted it. He had known that, of course. He really did believe he knew what she was thinking. Right now, for instance, she was wishing he’d nuzzle her neck, and so he did. He let his lips roam upward to the curve of her jaw, to her lips.

She didn’t realize that she was kissing him back until her arms went around him, urging him closer. He smelled of soap, and sunshine, and of his own undefinable scent—something woodsy, leathery and a little bit dangerous. His hands came up and slid the straps of her sundress of her shoulders. The fabric fell away, and then his palms were reverently cupped around her breasts, lifting their weight, his thumbs caressing her nipples.

Her pulse beat in her ears, and it said, “Yes, yes, yes,” all the while her common sense was telling her no. She wavered, knowing that this was not the proper time or place
for making love, except that at the moment any time or place seemed right.

Slade dipped his head to kiss one breast, then the other. “Karma,” he said. “Oh, Karma.” His breath seared her nipples, made them hard. She went giddy with the sheer voluptuousness of her body, with the knowledge that he could have her here and now, right up against the wall. If she’d let him. If she said yes.