Patrick's Destiny (12 page)

Alice apparently had no intention of giving Patrick one single second to change his mind, he concluded as she gave his chest a gentle nudge.

“Back on the boat,” she ordered.

“I think I’ve had about all the bobbing around on the water I can take for one evening,” he countered. “I had in mind a nice, warm bed on dry land.”

“If you’re considering mine, it’s too far away.”

“It’s a few blocks,” he pointed out.

“Too far,” she repeated.

“There’s always the room above Jess’s,” he suggested.

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you crazy? We’d never hear the end of it,” Alice said. “Okay, you win. My place, but let’s make it snappy.”

“I don’t suppose I could grab a bite to eat first,” he said.

She glowered at him. “If that isn’t the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. ‘Darling, I’d really love to sleep with you after holding out forever, but I’d like my dinner first.”’

“You want me to have a little stamina, don’t you?” he teased.

Alice rolled her eyes. “Okay, my place, I feed you and then no more stalling.”

Patrick grinned. “No more stalling,” he agreed.

As they walked up the hill to her cottage, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her in an attempt to stop her shivering. As they neared, he spotted the warm light glowing in the front window.

“I thought you hadn’t been home,” he said. “There’s a light on.”

“It’s on a timer,” she explained. “I don’t like coming home to a dark house.”

Patrick sighed, unable to recall the last time he’d come home to a welcoming light in the window. Most nights his boat was dark as pitch when he got back from Jess’s. Until he’d seen the light in Alice’s window, he hadn’t realized just how depressing the darkness could be.

Walking through the door of her cottage for the first time, he got the oddest sensation in his chest. It felt as if he were coming home. She’d made the place cozy, even on a night like this. The fireplace was ready for the touch of a match. The walls were a soft shade of yellow, the furniture covered in blue-and-white prints and solids. There were fresh flowers in an old cobalt-blue jar on the coffee table next to a pile of books, and a bright-yellow chenille throw had been tossed over the back of the sofa. Patrick could instantly imagine Alice snuggled beneath the yellow fabric, the fire blazing and a book in her hands. He could just as easily imagine her wearing that soft throw and nothing else.

Best not to go there just yet, he admonished himself. To put a little distance between them, he said, “Why
don’t you go take a hot shower before you catch pneumonia? I’ll see what I can rustle up in the kitchen.”

She gave him one of those long, lingering looks that could vaporize water, then said, “Sure you don’t want to come take that shower with me?”

Oh, yeah, he thought, feeling a little frantic. That was exactly what he wanted, but if he touched her now, if he so much as caught a glimpse of her naked, they’d be in her bed before either of them could say a word. He didn’t want it to happen that way, not the first time they were together. He wanted to give her tenderness and romance and long, slow, tormenting caresses.

“I’ll pass,” he said mildly.

She gave him a grin that only a practiced vamp could have perfected. “Your loss.”

“I’m sure it is,” he murmured, turning away to go in search of the kitchen.

Compared to his own, Alice’s kitchen was well stocked with homemade soup, the makings for a variety of sandwiches and even a leftover roasted chicken with plenty of meat still on its bones. Patrick’s mouth watered as he pulled away a chunk of tender white meat and munched on that while pondering all the other choices.

He put the beef vegetable soup on to heat, then made two thick sandwiches of ham, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes on homemade bread. After pouring two glasses of milk, he set the feast on the kitchen table. He was about to take his first bite, when the faint floral scent of Alice’s perfume caught his attention. He glanced up, and his mouth went dry.

She was standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a perfectly respectable robe—that is, if fabric that draped and clung to outline every curve could be described as
respectable. It was the same golden-bronze shade as her eyes and it caught the light in much the same way, shimmering provocatively. Suddenly the only thought on his mind was slowly, ever so slowly, stripping that robe off her and letting it slide to the floor.

“Alice, what are you trying to do to me?” he asked, his breath hitching.

She tried to fight a smile, but it escaped, anyway. She fingered the edge of the robe. “What? This old thing?”

“That old thing could drive a man wild.”

She seemed genuinely surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “Really?”

“Yes, and you damn well know it,” he accused.

Her smile was full-blown now. “I could take it off.”

Patrick forgot all about food, forgot everything, including his own name, as his blood turned to fire. “Okay,” he murmured, when he could find breath enough to speak.

She blinked once. “Okay?”

He nodded and reached for the loosely tied belt on the robe. “That’s what I said, okay. Take it off.”

One tug on the belt untied it and had the front of the robe gaping open to reveal a body still glowing from her shower and slightly pink, though he couldn’t be certain if the color was due to a thorough scrubbing or embarrassment.

“You take my breath away,” he told her with total honesty.

“That’s only fair,” she said, sliding onto his lap. “You’ve been stealing mine since the day we met.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

She grazed her knuckles along his cheek. “We could start with this,” she said, lowering her mouth to cover his.

His pulse ricocheted wildly as he gave himself up to the kiss. She’d clearly intended it to be a light, teasing contact, but it turned greedy and all consuming in a flash. His heart slammed against his ribs, and he bunched a handful of that delicate, silky fabric into a wad to keep from putting his hands all over her.

How could he want her this much? he wondered with a hint of desperation. How had he allowed himself to need anyone this much? Did it even matter?

“Sweetheart, I think a kitchen chair is the wrong place for this,” he said, scooping her up as he stood and heading for the door. “Where’s the bedroom?”

Her head tucked on his shoulder, her breath fanning against his cheek, she directed him down the hall to her room. The colors in here were as soothing as those in the living room, Patrick noted vaguely as he settled her in the middle of a double bed on which the sheets had already been turned down. She regarded him with a lazy look.

“You’re not climbing in here unless you lose some of those clothes, Devaney.”

He grinned. “Which ones? Any preference about where I start?”

She studied him thoughtfully. “The shoes and socks first, I think, then the shirt. After that, I’ll give it some more thought.”

Patrick kicked off his shoes and stripped away his socks, then dragged his flannel shirt over his head without bothering to unbutton more than the top two buttons. “Next?”

“The belt, I think. Slowly, please.”

He bit back a grin. “You sure you don’t want a little background music for this striptease?”

“Nope. You’re doing fine. Now, lose the T-shirt.”

“Okay, then,” he said, when he was standing before her, bare-chested and surprisingly self-conscious. “There’s not a lot left. Do the jeans go or stay for now?”

“They go, of course.”

Getting into the spirit of it and enjoying the mischievous pleasure shining in her eyes, he unsnapped the jeans then took his own sweet time unzipping them. He executed a little twirl before sliding them off and kicking them across the room.

Alice laughed. “Nice touch. I like the jockeys, by the way. Red is definitely your color.”

“Probably matches my cheeks about now,” he said, kneeling on the bed to press a kiss to her lips.

Alice cupped his face in her hands. “You aren’t embarrassed, are you?”

“Darlin’, what I am is hot and bothered.”

Her smile spread. “Well, then, come on over here and let’s see what we can do about that.”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Yes, I imagine you do.”

He studied her expression, then chuckled. “But we’re doing this your way, am I right?”

She reached for the waistband of his jockeys, her fingers grazing his belly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“Then, go for it,” he said, closing his eyes and lying back against the pillows. “I’m all yours.”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard her murmur something that sounded a lot like “If only,” but then her hands were playing their wicked games, and Patrick completely lost himself in her touch.

A
lice had waited too long for Patrick to make love to her to want to rush through it. She intended to torment him until he was at least half as crazy with desire as she’d been for a couple of weeks now.

She sat back on her heels, her robe spilling open to display more bare flesh than she’d exposed to anyone except her doctor in a long time. Patrick was reclining against her pillows, clad in nothing except those bright-red jockey shorts, and she intended to savor the sight. The man was hard as a rock, every muscle well defined, not from working out in a gym but from his daily life. She reached out and ran her fingers over his abdomen and felt the muscles jerk at her touch. She could also see the effect on another well-defined portion of his anatomy, which his jockeys did nothing to disguise.

“Interesting,” she murmured, as if she were conducting an experiment.

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Having fun yet?”

“Absolutely,” she said, moving on to the warm skin of his broad chest. She tangled her fingers in the shadowing of dark hair that curled tightly against tanned skin. She could feel the heat radiating from him and uttered a little sigh of satisfaction. She hadn’t realized how much she missed touching a man like this, how much she missed the closeness with another human being.

Even so, the closeness felt different somehow, more intense. More complete. She realized that because her feelings for Patrick ran deeper, she craved more than physical intimacy with him. She craved the emotional connection that had been building between them.

Not that the physical was all bad. No, indeed, she thought as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the base of his throat and felt his pulse leap. Then he clamped his hand on the back of her neck and held her still.

“Enough,” he said just before closing his mouth over hers.

His tongue invaded in a heartbeat, stirring sensations low in her belly. Even as his kiss deepened and devastated, his hand was exploring, slip-sliding over silky fabric, rubbing it over nipples already taut and sensitive. She was aching and anxious by the time his clever fingers moved lower to dip into moist heat and send her jolting off the mattress.

The man was a wizard, his touch magic. She felt herself convulse from just one delicate flick across the tight bud of her arousal. Waves of pleasure washed over her.

Patrick waited, letting her ride them out, before start
ing all over again. The buildup was even faster this time, and far more intense. Her already aroused body responded to each caress, to each kiss, with restless movements that quickly turned more frenzied and demanding.

“Not just yet,” he said, holding back, his gaze locked with hers.

“I need you now,” she insisted, thinking she might die of anticipation if he insisted on waiting another moment. She lifted her hips, seeking the joining he was denying her. “Patrick, please. Inside me.”

He smoothed a hand over her brow as if soothing an anxious child. “When the time is right.”

Alice bit back a gasp as he swirled his tongue around one nipple, then another, before tugging hard and sending sensation slamming through her. Her hips lifted off the bed, once more seeking relief, seeking him…but still he remained beyond reach.

Those clever fingers tormented and teased and inflamed until she thought she’d scream from the sheer wonder of it. Every muscle in her body strained for release, every inch of her skin was hot and aching for a touch that he now passed out with stingy deliberation. Her nerves were raw, her body achy and needy, when at last he thrust into her and took her breath away.

She felt her body stretch, then mold to his, felt the friction as he moved inside her and then the quick rise of sensation, the overwhelming tide of pleasure as heat and desire exploded. Rather than shattering them into a million fragments, the explosion melded them into one single unit, like the fusion of metals into something so strong, so powerful it could withstand the test of time.

Alice clung to Patrick’s shoulders and rode out the waves of sensation until, at last, peace followed. And
with peace came the certainty that this love she felt for Patrick Devaney would last a lifetime.

If only he would let it.

Morning came too darn soon. Patrick would have stayed right here, Alice warm and flushed in his arms, if there hadn’t been the outside world and all its demands to consider. He might be master of his own fate, but she wasn’t. She had a classroom full of five-year-olds who were counting on her. He glanced at the clock, noted it was only six and concluded they had at least a little time before Alice would need to start on her workday.

He brushed a finger lightly across her lush lips, then felt the soft whisper of a sigh as she snuggled against him. “Hey, darlin’, if you wake up now like a good girl, there’s time to be bad before the day gets underway.”

“Bad?” she murmured. Then her eyes snapped open, alight with interest. “How bad?”

He grinned at her instantaneous eagerness. That was just one of things he’d come to love about her during the long night. Alice held nothing back. There was no pretense of reticence, no game playing. When it came to making love, they were completely, shatteringly attuned.

He leaned close to whisper in her ear, the taunt designed to make her cheeks flame and her hands rove. She slid on top of him in a heartbeat, taking him into her and riding him, her head thrown back, her expression triumphant, as another climax tore through them both.

She collapsed on top of him, her breath coming in
gasps. “There’s a very good chance I won’t be able to move for the rest of my life,” she murmured eventually.

Patrick grinned. There was far more satisfaction than dismay in her tone. “I think you’d better,” he advised lightly. “I’m not sure you want to try explaining away an absence from school today.”

She groaned and rolled over. “You could call in for me.”

“And say what?” he teased. “That you spent the night making mad, passionate love with me and can’t even crawl out of bed?”

“It would be the truth,” she said, her eyes still closed, a smile on her lips.

“And it would be all over town by suppertime. It just might give some parents second thoughts about entrusting their precious kindergarten students to you.”

She opened her eyes and frowned. “Yeah, I see your point,” she conceded with obvious reluctance. “What about you? Are you going to work today? Or are you going to laze around in my bed all day? Come to think of it, I rather like the idea of daydreaming about that all day long. I’d be highly motivated to get home after school.”

“Unfortunately, I, too, have to work,” he said. “I need to go over the boat to see if there was any damage from the storm. Then I’ll probably take it out for a few hours.”

Alarm flashed in her eyes for just an instant. “Are you sure? Have you checked the weather?”

“Not yet.” He smoothed away the furrow in her brow. “Alice, yesterday was a fluke. I was distracted. I missed all the signs that a storm was approaching. Usually I’m one of the first ones in.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“You were on my mind,” he admitted.

The furrows instantly formed again. “It was my fault you almost got yourself killed?”

“No. It was mine. I know better than to allow myself to get distracted. It won’t happen again.” He gave her a nudge. “Now scoot. I’m not sure I can drag myself out of this bed as long as you’re in here tempting me.”

“I tempt you?” she asked.

“Don’t fish for compliments,” he scolded. “You know you drive me crazy. There are a million and one reasons why you and me being together is a bad idea, and you managed to make me forget every one of them.”

She grinned then. “Good, because you drive me crazy, too.”

He watched her finally slide from the bed, then head for the bathroom, unable to tear his gaze away from her amazing body. No question about it, she’d bewitched him.

Unfortunately, there was also no question that their relationship remained every bit as complicated as it had been before they’d slept together. There were some things that making love—or even falling in love—simply couldn’t change.

Alice felt as if everything in her life was changing and, finally, for the better. She’d spent her whole life dreaming about a man like Patrick Devaney—solid and dependable and amazingly tender, a man in whom to place her trust, whom she could love with her whole heart, with whom she could build a family. Maybe, at long last, she would be able to fill the hole in her heart that had been left when her own family had died.

“You’re certainly glowing this morning,” Loretta
Dowd said when she came across Alice in the school office. “Obviously, you found Patrick last night. He made it home safely?”

Alice prayed she wasn’t blushing furiously, though her cheeks felt hot under the woman’s knowing gaze. “He’s fine,” she said. “He rescued Ray Stover. Ray’s boat capsized.”

“Janey will be glad enough of that, I imagine,” the principal said. “She’s been wanting Ray to retire for some time now.” Loretta studied Alice with a knowing look that seemed to zero straight in on her heart. “What about you? Any second thoughts about giving your heart to a fisherman?”

A twinge or two, Alice was forced to admit to herself. Aloud she said, “None at all.”

“Really? I find that surprising. I always thought that was one of the reasons you left Widow’s Cove, because you didn’t want to fall into the trap that so many of your ancestors had fallen into. I thought you viewed the sea as your enemy.”

Alice shuddered at the reminder. “If I’ve learned nothing else in the past few years, it’s that the heart makes its own choices.”

The principal patted her hand. “Indeed it does. I only regret that you came to that wisdom after your parents were gone.”

Alice sighed. “I know. I wish I could have told them and begged their forgiveness for making judgments about their choices.”

“They bore their own share of the guilt,” Loretta reminded her. “They were too hard on you. You were young. You had a right to your choices, as well.”

“I know, but I regret that we didn’t have a second chance to discuss it more rationally. Maybe I could have
made them see how happy I was with the choice I’d made.”

“Living with regrets is a waste of time.” Loretta gave Alice a sly look. “Have you had any luck making Patrick see that?”

“None at all,” Alice admitted.

“I thought not. He’s a hard case. It wouldn’t surprise me if he took his anger to the grave.”

Alice regarded her with surprise. “You don’t think there’s any hope for a reconciliation with his family?”

“As long as there’s breath, there’s hope. Keep trying, Alice. I see Patrick’s parents from time to time. There was always something a little lost and sad about them, but it’s been worse since Patrick left. I don’t know the whole story, but it would be a shame if it kept them apart for too long. Mending fences is never easy once pride gets in the way, but without forgiveness, where would any of us be?”

“I know,” Alice said. “I agree.”

“Then do something about it. He’ll listen to you. Once a man’s heart opens to love, it’s more accepting of a lot of things.”

“I don’t know that Patrick loves me.”

The principal gave her another of those too-knowing looks. “If not, then what was last night about, my dear?”

Alice blushed furiously. “How…?”

A surprising twinkle lit the principal’s eyes. “You’re wearing your blouse inside out. It’s not like you, so I suspect you dressed in a rush this morning.”

She grinned at Alice, then strode into her office and firmly shut the door.

Alice stared down at the exposed seams of her blouse and felt as if she might die of embarrassment on the
spot. She rushed off to the ladies’ room to remedy the telltale mistake before anyone else noticed and the story made its way around town.

She was still completely off-kilter when the day ended and she made her way to Jess’s, hoping for at least a glimpse of Patrick before she went home.

At three o’clock the bar was quiet and Molly was sitting in a booth in a darkened corner, her expression brooding. Alice slid in opposite her and studied her worriedly.

“Bad day?” she asked when Molly volunteered nothing, not even a halfhearted greeting.

“Bad enough.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” She sounded very sure of it, too.

“Sometimes talking helps,” Alice pressed.

“And sometimes it’s just a waste of breath.”

“Now there’s a cynical view.”

“I have a right,” Molly retorted, her tone and her expression unyielding.

“Of course you do, but it’s unlike you. People around here know they can count on you for sound advice and a cheery greeting. You’ll scare them off if you keep the sour look on your face through happy hour.”

Molly feigned a mocking smile. “Will that do?”

“It might fool some, but not most. Talk, Molly.”

“I’ve nothing to say, and if you’re going to keep pestering me, I’ll be forced to head into the kitchen and start dinner preparations.”

“Does that involve sharp knives?”

“Of course.”

“Then maybe you should put it off.”

Molly gave her a wry look. “Very funny.”

“I didn’t mean it to be.”

Molly started to push herself up, then sank back against the cushions of the booth. The effort was so halfhearted, so counter to everything Alice knew about Molly’s usual energy level, that Alice’s alarm grew.

“Dammit, Molly, are you sick?”

Molly’s gaze turned sad. “Not the way you mean.”

“Sick at heart, then?”

She nodded eventually, then cut off all questions by adding firmly, “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It has something to do with Daniel Devaney, though, doesn’t it?”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” Molly repeated, though her voice lacked her usual feistiness.

“Oh, Molly, what did he do to you?” Alice whispered, reaching for her friend’s hand.

“Nothing Patrick won’t do to you, if you’re not careful,” Molly said.

The sting of the words was so unexpected that Alice felt as if she’d been slapped. Before she could even think of an adequate response, Molly leaned forward.