Sterling's Reasons (16 page)
An hour later Sterling stood at the top of the stairs and watched Joe come toward her. He, too, had dressed carefully. She thought he looked handsome and rugged in his brown cord sport coat. Under it, he wore a lightweight sweater, and khaki slacks hugged his thighs. And he wore his boots. She liked it when he wore his boots. They added just the right touch of cocky cowboy.
Joe’s nerves stretched as he drew closer. She was a vision for any man’s eyes.
The dress she wore draped to the tops of her toes. It was blindingly white. A 124
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simple white cotton dress with an off-the-shoulder top, cinched at the waist with a narrow leather belt. Its skirt fell into ruffles around the bottom. Three rows for a hint of sass.
Together, they looked as if they were going to a country-western dance for a few quick swings and doe-si-doe’s. She had even tugged on white western boots with a silver chain and concho about the ankle.
Had she shopped just to please him? Her hair was loose and full and shiny.
It fell in soft curls around her face, tumbled over her shoulders. At her throat she wore a simple single strand of gold. The rubies at her ears winked at him. She smelled of something wonderful. Earthy and sweet. Irresistible.
In a gesture as natural as breathing, she held her hand out to him. “Right this way, sir. Your table has been reserved and your meal awaits you.”
He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. When he was able to speak, he spaced the words slowly. “You are beautiful.”
She’d been certain she was beyond blushing, but she felt the rush of heat on her cheeks. He was smooth-shaven and she picked up the spicy scent of his cologne.
He glanced around at all she’d done, wondering why she would go to all this trouble for him. And why it made him feel so tense and insecure.
“Do you like it?” she asked, looking around with him.
“What’s not to like? It’s perfect.” He took the seat she indicated while she retreated to the kitchen for the salad.
“I saw you go for a run on the beach earlier…” she began. “I would have liked to have joined you, but I was too busy. Maybe tomorrow.” She chatted idly as she arranged bowls and dressing on the table.
“If it’s not raining,” he agreed flatly.
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Sterling wasn’t at all pleased with his mood. They had had such a nice, comfortable evening with each other the night before, and now he seemed to be on edge about something. Had she overdone it?
He ate his salad silently. It was good, but his mind was dragged back to the phone call. He nodded when she asked him a question that he only half heard.
And the newspaper bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Before coming over here, Joe had gone to the trash can and forced himself not to get it out and read it. He toyed with a carrot stick. How had they colored the story?
Had they let the world know for how many years and just how closely he and Red had worked together? Damn it, they’d been like brothers. How could that kind of intimacy be written in black and white. Or did they make it seem like he was a rookie cop who’d made a stupid mistake? Did he really want to know?
“You’re awfully quiet, Joe. Is anything wrong?”
She was looking at him with such concern in her eyes. He didn’t want to spoil this evening and even more, he didn’t want to share the tug-of-war of pain and doubt waging inside him. “No. I’m just down tonight. I’ll get over it.”
“I know you don’t like me to worry about you, Joe. I do, though. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”
He smiled up at her, but there was an edge of irritation in his voice. “Don’t you think I know that by now? And I wouldn’t be down if I could help it.”
Salads done, she brought the spaghetti and was a little disappointed when he didn’t even comment on it. He did clean his plate, though.
She cleared the table after dinner was done, except for the centerpiece, the wine, and a nice big ashtray she had bought for him that afternoon. Because she wanted this evening to be a pampering one, she declined his offer of help. In Sterling’s philosophy, everybody needed to be spoiled once in a while.
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The sun was almost down, the clouds tipped dark. The breeze kicked up, whipping at the large deck. Sterling sighed inwardly. She didn’t want to think of moving things inside. Not just yet. She eyed the sky warily and hoped.
A slow love song wafted on the air. She slipped her boots off and pushed them under the table. On impulse, she stood up and went around to his chair.
“May I have this dance, sir?”
He looked up at her. She was so lovely. And either so innocent or so good at pretending. Whichever, a dance sounded good to him.
She went gently into his arms. She again felt the power that surrounded him, the strength in his body. He exuded a pure male sexuality that was undeniably potent at this range. Wanting to lean into him, to feel his entire body with hers, she kept the small distance between them and ventured a look at his face.
He hadn’t come close to preparing himself for it. The power this woman had over him. He caught her light scent and felt the soft weight of her hand on his shoulder.
He was gazing down at her. There was no smile on his lips, none in his eyes, but his hold was gentle. As if he were afraid to break her. They swayed together naturally, the breeze ruffling her skirts around her ankles as she moved.
Joe was grateful he still had such control. He wanted to take her to his bed now. Right now. Feelings for her flowed from him that were more than simple biological responses. He wanted to be the recipient of the love she so clearly had to give. He wanted to release the love and respect that he knew was beginning to swirl around inside him. She was made for him. She would melt against a man’s body. His body. She would become part of him. It at once scared and pleased him. He wondered if she made love with as much passion as she lived every day.
He wanted to touch and be touched by the goodness in her. God, he needed that. The goodness, the genuineness that he trusted was there. If he could only let
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himself go he could love her, really love her. It would comfort him so much to know that she would always be there. But a man like him didn’t like the word comfort. Share, blend, he decided. Better words. He had never had anyone who simply did those things. He didn’t know how she felt. She seemed to care quite a bit about his solace, his happiness, but it could just be her way. It might be best for both of them if he let himself believe that.
She closed the gap between them and laid her head on his chest. The move, so simple, so natural, had his stomach clenching.
She couldn’t help herself. He was so strong. So solid. So male. It both intrigued and frustrated her. He was all reserve again, on the alert. She had to get him to relax or this whole evening would be a waste. And then the love song conjured up new waves of contentment that seemed to ebb and flow from her toward him. It wasn’t something she could stop, so she enjoyed it.
The breeze played around them as the song went from one beautiful recording to another. Joe was almost unaware when he brushed his lips against her hair. She moved so that he made contact with her forehead.
They were no longer taking actual steps, just standing close, swaying together. She could feel her pulse speeding up and the answering sound of his heartbeat increase in tempo beneath her ear.
“Joe.” His name was a sigh. “You dance wonderfully. Did you have a lot of girlfriends before all this happened? One special one?”
“No. I was married for a while. A long time ago. She liked to dance.”
“What happened?”
He moved his shoulders restlessly. “She couldn’t put up with my job. Some women can’t handle the constant chance that things could be over in a second.”
“She must have loved you very much.”
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His voice was cold and unforgiving. “No. She didn’t love me enough.” He avoided looking at Sterling.
“You still miss her?” she ventured, needing to know.
“It was a long time ago, Sterling. A long time ago. I don’t know how I feel about her anymore. I don’t think about it. What’s over is over, and that’s that.”
When the song ended, they separated a little, but he continued to hold her hand. It was nearly dark now, and dampness had intensified the aroma of the flowers decorating the deck. The breeze continued to play over Joe and Sterling as the gulls swooped and raced nearby to finish their evening meal.
A last ray of sunlight caught the sliver of gold that lay around her neck.
Needing to taste, needing
her,
he bent his head to lay a kiss there.
Warmth burst through her that splayed its way in all directions. She slid her hand from his shoulder up into his hair. Seduced by the flavor, he trailed his lips up her neck, across her cheek, and lingered there momentarily. A whisper’s breath away from her mouth. Opening her eyes, she stared at her own reflection in his.
He rubbed his lips across hers, lightly, hovering, now not moving…only tasting, testing. Her lips parted, waiting, attending, permitting.
He kissed her shoulder that her dress left bare, then her neck just below her ear. Then his mouth trailed lightly, slowly, across her face. Still tasting, he pressed a kiss beneath her jaw.
She wanted to pull him close to her, mold herself against him, but he kept her just there, not moving, with nothing touching but their lips and hands.
She trembled with the anticipation of a kiss. Again, his kiss made her wait, as he only slid his mouth across hers, ever so easily. He left her lips hungry to take his down the hollow of her throat. She was floating, drifting. She was thistledown on the wind; she was a bubble floating away.
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Wanting more, she pulled her hands from his to draw him close. His head came up and she closed the space between them frantically. A low moan from both of them mingled as mouth closed on mouth.
He banded her waist with his arms and picked her up off the deck so that their faces were level without breaking the kiss. She dipped her hands in his hair at the back of his neck and felt the soft coarseness of it. She reveled in the feel of his hard body against hers, trembled at the power of it while he swayed slowly, in time to the music.
He broke the kiss and looked at her with dark, smoky eyes. Everything he wanted was in his arms. A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he trailed short, sensuous kisses along her jaw, back to her lips.
She let her tongue play with his mouth, taste him, savor him. When she changed the angle of the light kiss, she felt him tremble with it.
Slowly, so slowly that she felt every line, every muscle of his body, he set her on her feet. She felt the wooden planks dip under her and held tight to him for balance. He put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head so he could look into her eyes.
These kisses were not like the ones he had taken from her before. These were to seduce, to draw nectar, to tease, to ask. Music forgotten, they moved to their own tune as the depth of their connections grew. Falling. Sliding. Tumbling. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around him. With every move she gave him the permission he silently asked.
Hovering, she was no longer in contact with the real world. Slipping, floating somewhere dark and far away, but with him. Only him. Melting. Nothing else existed but the feel of him, the taste of him. The promise of him.
He had sensed there was passion in her, but he hadn’t come close to the power of it. She came to him so willingly, so openly, so trustingly. But could she 130
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be trusted? He didn’t want to think; he didn’t want the answer. He only knew what it felt like to get lost in this woman. To lose control of all thought, relinquish regulation to instinct. He groaned as she trembled and sighed beneath his hands.
She knew his gentleness was the result of great restraint. She could feel the deepening intimacy each time he returned his roving mouth to her lips and, with that restraint, she became impatient, avid. She didn’t want him to feel the need for suppression. She wanted him turned loose. Hunger ripped through her and she locked herself against him.
With whisperlike movements his mouth roamed her jaw, her throat, her shoulder. Answering, she turned her mouth to his temple, to his cheek.
He heard as he felt her quickened breath at his ear. Joe knew the soft moistness of her mouth as it played with him, stirred him, fired him.
Spiraling and dizzy, she held tight around his neck when he scooped her up and walked inside and toward the bedroom. In the light of day she had seen him as a man who did things quickly with marked results. In the darkness she began to know him as a man who did things slowly, savoringly. The hands that could kill, the hands that could decide life or death, held here, drew fire from deep within her. And asked.
She answered. The rain splatted against the windows, pattered against the rough boards of the deck. Thunder rolled in the distance. Lightning flashed, echoing her passion.
“The radio and the silk flowers will get wet,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Let them. Nothing matters but us. Nothing exists but us.” He set her feet on the floor. The wind increased and shuddered through the cottage. In the dim light he searched her face as he framed it between his hands. What he saw in her
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eyes, in the way she held on to him, was what he’d hoped to see. What he needed to see.
She slid his jacket off his shoulders. He undid the belt at her waist. She helped him slip the sweater over his head. He watched as the dress floated down her hips into a puddle on the floor. Soon, flesh to flesh, her moan of pleasure mingled with his as he laid her back on the bed, gently, slowly. He wanted to remember for all time the way she looked at him tonight. She lifted her arms up toward him. Holding back only long enough to cherish the anticipation, to revel in her eagerness, Joe bent down to her.
