Mysterious (11 page)

He was a man who had gone through his adult life deliberately avoiding romantic complications and serious involvements. Yet only a few days ago, one very beautiful and mysterious lady had walked into his life, and with every hour that passed he had become more and more deeply involved with her.

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he turned toward the wide window and the vista beyond. Secluded, peaceful, beautiful. And he was here with Jennifer.

So what was he fighting against? Not her, never her. Himself? Probably. But dammit! Why shouldn’t he allow himself to relax this one time?

Here, in this scenic, tranquil place, they were in no danger. As far as he knew, they had managed to get out of St. Paul completely undetected. And, most of all, there were no more problems facing them. Only solutions. Monday morning they would go into town, find the bank, open the safety deposit box, and discover the answers to the puzzle. An in the meantime they had the whole weekend ahead of them.

He turned to find Jennifer standing behind him. So infinitely lovely. "It’s a beautiful view," she said.

Jerome smiled, taking in everything about her. "I was just thinking the same thing. How would you like to see some of that view first hand? Maybe we could walk along the lake, then have an early dinner at the lodge."

She returned his smile, and that elusive dimple showed itself. "I’d like that."

The wide cowl collar of the white cashmere sweater she was wearing showed the delicacy of her throat and the enticing depth of her cleavage. With it she had teamed a Black Watch plaid skirt that flared out around her leather knee-high boots.

How she managed to look earthy and fragile at the same time he would never know. A man would never be able to make love to her without giving away some vital part of himself. Jerome knew now that that was why he had been holding himself back. What he didn’t know was whether or not his restraint could last.

She was staring at him, her forehead wrinkled in question. "Jerome, are you ready?"

He nodded abruptly. "Get your cape. It’s cold out there."

The afternoon was gray. The clouds were low and heavy and pressed against the skeletonlike branches of the oaks and the almost black leaves of the evergreens. In silence Jennifer and Jerome made their way around the uneven shoreline.

Leaves crunched beneath their feet, and a lone squirrel skittered away with his treasured acorn. Out in the middle of the lake whitecaps churned.

Jennifer smiled up at him. "If the lake weren’t so rough, I’d show you how many times I can skip a stone."

He chuckled and reached for her hand. "I’ll take your word for it. Damn! Your hand is like ice! Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?"

"I’m not. Just my hands, and they’re not too bad. I didn’t want to spoil our walk. It’s been so nice."

"Here." He turned her to him. "Let’s stop for a while and get you warm." He took her hands and slid them around his waist, inside his double- breasted overcoat, then he put his arms around her and pulled her close. "How’s that?"

"Good." Looking up at him, Jennifer thought. Too good. She wanted him almost too much. To get her mind away from the dull throbbing ache that had begun within her body the second he had pulled her to him, she asked, "Do you suppose there’s a monster in this lake? You know, like the Loch Ness monster?"

Jerome feigned exasperation. "Now, that’s the kind of question I would expect from someone who used to pretend her family cat was a dragon."

She made a face at him and pushed her hands under his sweater, the better to warm them. He inhaled sharply, but she hurried on. "I bet there is, and I also bet that he’s a good monster."

"How can a monster be good?" he asked a bit unsteadily as her hands played across his back.

"Oh, well... he wasn’t always a monster."

"No?"

"No. You see, many, many years ago, two warring tribes lived on opposite banks of this lake. Everything went along quite smoothly for years, with them taking turns raiding each other’s village. But one day the son of one chief and the daughter of the other fell in love, and their fathers became very angry. When the young brave went to ask for the maiden’s hand in marriage, her father’s no was loud enough to be heard across the lake."

Jerome reached to catch a strand of her shining brown hair and push it away from her face. The wind had colored her cheeks to a rose, and her eyes were sparkling with enjoyment of the story she was enthusiastically making up. Watching her, Jerome decided he had never seen anyone quite as beautiful as Jennifer Prescott.

She paused and took a deep breath. "Well, what do you think happened next? Her father’s shaman turned the handsome young brave into a monster! And the beautiful young girl spent her days sitting on the banks of the lake weeping. She wept and she wept, and deep down on the bottom of the lake her lover heard her and cried with her. She came every day, until finally one day, after years had passed, she came no more. And now, whenever the monster comes to the surface of the lake, the people who live here know that he won’t hurt them. They know he’s only looking for his true love."

Jerome stared at her for a minute. "Jennifer, that’s the stupidest story I’ve ever heard."

Her husky laugh carried out over the blue-gray lake. "It is not! So okay, counselor, can you think of something better?"

"I sure can," he muttered, and brought his mouth down on hers.

Her fingers pressed into the sleek, hard muscles of his back, and she yielded to him immediately, pushing closer, wanting but knowing that she couldn’t ask for what she wanted. Jerome had private barriers to overcome, and he had to do that by himself. She couldn’t press him into loving her before he was ready, but she could tell him of her love, she decided, and she would. She felt the pressure on her lips lessen, then cease, and had to fight not to cry out her need for more.

Gazing down at her, Jerome saw the warm brown eyes whose depth could easily drive a man mad and the lips that with a touch could make him want to throw away all caution. He battled against the surge of heat that threatened to overtake him again.

"Are you warm now?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

It seemed to him as if she were barely breathing, when his heart felt as if it were thudding out of control. "Why don’t we walk up to the lodge, then?"

The lodge was rustic, with heavy oak beams across the ceiling and highly polished wood floors. Heavy area rugs separated the seating groups, and the chairs and couches were upholstered in muted tones of browns and blues and oranges. In the restaurant they ate at a table by a wide window overlooking the lake.

Succulent fish, crisp salad, and a spirited wine. Heaven, thought Jerome. Or as near to heaven as life got. With his eyes resting contentedly on Jennifer, he took another drink of his wine.

Sitting at a right angle to him at the small table, she toyed with the stem of her wineglass. "Jerome, there’s something I need to say."

"Then say it."

"It’s not that easy." Her dark lashes swept low over her cheeks. "I want to thank you for standing by me . . . for having faith in me when I’ve really not given you any cause. We came together under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Yet I don’t think there was ever any question in your mind about helping me, was there?"

"No."

"Thank you, Jerome. For your faith ... for your trust... for your help."

He smiled at her. "You’re welcome."

"There’s something else."

She ran a tapered nail around the rim of her glass. It was painted with the same shade that she wore on her lips, he noted absently.

"I’ve fallen in love with you, Jerome."

He was a highly respected, successful lawyer. He was as sharp as they came. Some people went so far as to call him brilliant. Nothing got by him. But she had done it to him more than once, and now she had done it again. Jennifer had a way of throwing him curves that he was totally unprepared for. He couldn’t have been more stunned than if she had suddenly produced a baseball bat from beneath the long white tablecloth that covered their table and hit him in the stomach.

She was continuing. "I know that you can’t say the same, but ..." She looked helplessly around the room, seeming not to know what to say next.

"Does wanting count?" he questioned huskily.

She brought her eyes back to his, and they shimmered with an emotion that fanned the fire inside him. "Yes. It’s got to count, because I’ve wanted you since that first night."

They lingered over their early dinner, consciously drawing the string of anticipation tighter and tighter. Once, just once, in an act of compulsion, Jerome slipped his hand under the tablecloth to her knee, then up along the sleek stockings that she wore, until he encountered the tender warm flesh of her upper thigh. Briefly he closed his eyes, luxuriating in the silkiness of the soft skin. "Do you mind?" he questioned in a voice choked with huskiness. "I just had to."

The look she gave him in response to his action answered his question and spoke of a hot need that matched his completely. With a trembling hand he smoothed her skirt back in place and took another drink of wine, intoxicated, and no longer certain of what he was doing.

By the time they left, snow had begun to fall. They made their way down the steps of the lodge and out into the dwindling light of the afternoon. The cotton softness of the snow swirled about them. Putting his arm around Jennifer’s shoulder, Jerome drew her close against him.

Behind them the lights of the lodge faded as they found the path that would take them back to their cabin. Even through their coats he could feel the heat from her body attempting to reach out and draw him closer to her. For so long he had denied himself. Now he felt as if all his nerves had been exposed to fire. They were screaming with pain and he knew only one way to make them stop.

Jerome halted and looked at Jennifer, unable to walk another foot. Since she had come into his life he had waited, restrained himself to the point where he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. Lace prisms of snow began to collect and cling to her hair. Jerome pulled the hood of the cape over her head. The taupe-colored fabric framed her face, enhancing her air of being utterly romantic and totally enchanting.

Gently he pushed her back against the trunk of a tree, following with his body. Slipping open the fastening of her cape, he dipped his hand inside the cowl neckline of her sweater, pushed the cashmere aside, and placed his mouth against the soft pulsing beat of her throat.

"Oh, Jerome," she murmured.

"Shhhh," he whispered shakily. "I need to kiss you." His lips roamed up her neck. "To kiss you properly. I’ve needed to for so long." He opened her cape and, holding out the edges of his coat, wrapped it around her.

Touching his lips to hers, he came undone. All control was gone. Lowering himself on her, he pressed her against the tree. Her lips felt cool from the snow, but his tongue slipped inside and found warmth, then deeper and discovered fire. She clung to him, moving against him. Her high firm breasts flattened against his chest, burning him, and his hands closed over the soft cashmere.

Time flowed by unnoticed, night crept in, the snow became heavier, and still the fire blazing inside of them would not be put out. Finally, though, reality infringed and they drew apart, but only enough so that they could continue their walk back to the cabin. They stopped frequently to kiss and touch. It wasn’t enough.

When the door to the cabin was at last locked behind them, there was no waiting. They both knew what was going to happen next. What had to happen.

Taking her hand, he led her into the bedroom she had chosen as hers, where the big four-poster waited. There, with a control that was tenuous, he dropped the cape from her shoulders. Kneeling before her, he took off first one boot and then the other. Unfastening her skirt, he let it fall to the floor. He rose and the sweater slid like a whisper over her head. Then she was standing before him in nothing but a lace bra and panties, and a garter belt and stockings.

He stopped his undressing of her in order to feast his eyes. He had imagined this moment so often, but reality turned his dreams into pale images. With her hair tumbling brown and shining about her shoulders, and her skin gleaming with the sheen of apricot satin, she was at once earthily sexy and radiantly luminescent—a flame waiting to be put out.

She came to him and stripped him of his sweater. Entangling her fingers in the thick sandy hair on his chest, she bent to run her tongue around the hard buds of his nipples.

His hands gripped her arms tightly and pushed her back onto the wide bed. He was already erect and throbbing, completely ready. Hurriedly he undid his pants while she discarded her undergarments. Without speaking, they both knew that there was no need for anything more to be done.

The torturous time that had preceded this moment had been their foreplay.

Almost immediately he entered her, sliding deeper and deeper until he filled her up entirely and she cried out in sheer ecstasy. From the first, it was magnificent. Their bodies were made for each other, and they moved together in savage, perfectly matched rhythm, her hips rotating with a fierce energy, meeting his mighty thrusts without qualm.

In the far distance of his mind he heard her shouting at the same time as he felt her fingernails rake down his back. He clutched her buttocks and drove powerfully into her, over and over, until the red-hot haze of feeling dispersed in a brilliant sweetness and left them gasping in each other’s arms.

Timeless moments, lovers in a universe that was theirs alone, lovers unmindful of the state of the real world around them—the snow that continued to fall, veiling everything in a coat of white, the midnight that passed as the earth rotated slowly toward dawn. That was the condition in which Jennifer and Jerome passed through the hours of the night, forgetting everything except each other—even the danger outside that awaited them.

Jennifer opened her eyes and saw Jerome. He lay on his back, his eyes shut. Even in sleep his face showed the great strength and integrity she had been drawn to that first night. She could have wept with joy over the miracle of her relationship with this incredible man.