Strange Bedfellow (20 page)

“I don't want breakfast,” Dina was already turning to make her way back to the bed. “You go ahead without me.”
 

Blake's arm went around her to turn her back.
 

He pushed the tangle of corn-silk hair behind her ear and held it there, his hand cupping the side of her head and tipping it up. His strength was a glorious thing and Dina willingly let him support her weight, too weary to stand on her own.
 

“What's the matter, Dina? You look exhausted?” Blake was frowning.
 

“I am,” she sighed. “My beautifully soft bed was too soft. I barely slept all night.”
 

He laughed softly. “Why didn't you take a pillow and blanket off the bed and sleep on the floor? Or was that too uncivilized for you?” He mocked her in a gently teasing voice.
 

“I suppose that's what you did?” Dina lifted her tired lashes to glance at him. He looked disgustingly refreshed and rested.
 

“Yes,” he nodded.
 

“And probably slept like a baby,” she added enviously.
 

“I didn't sleep all that well,” Blake denied.
 

“Why not?” Dina slid her arms around his hard, warm body and rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes.
 

“I haven't liked sleeping alone since I met you.”
 

His provocative statement sailed over her sleepy head. Dina was only aware of how very right it felt to be in his arms, so comfortable and so warm. She snuggled closer.
 

“Why don't you just hold me for a while and let me sleep?” she suggested in a sleepy murmur.
 

“I don't think so.” The arm that had been around her withdrew to press a hand against her rib cage just below her breast to push her away. “If I hold you much longer, I won't be thinking about sleep,” Blake stated, a half smile curving one corner of his mouth. “Why don't you shower and dress? I'll go get some coffee to help you wake up before we go to breakfast.”
 

Dina didn't have a chance to agree or disagree. One minute she was in his arms and the next he was walking to the door, leaving her swaying there unsteadily. The closing of the door goaded her into movement. She looked longingly at the bed, but knew it was no use. Even if she could go back to sleep, Blake would be back shortly to waken her. Following his suggestion, she walked to the bathroom.
 

It was shortly after midmorning by the time Blake and Dina finished their breakfast and started out on a leisurely tour of the island, dotted with freshwater ponds. It was not the first visit for either of them, but it had been several years since their last.
 

There was little noticeable change on the island, with the possible exception that a few more trees had been planted by property owners. The young saplings looked forlorn in a landscape that was remarkably devoid of trees. Early settlers had long ago cut down the native ones for lumber to build their homes. Reforestation was a new and slow process.
 

Stone fences crisscrossed the rolling terrain. The rocks had been deposited on the island by glaciers from the Ice Age and stacked, probably long ago by slave labor, to erect property boundaries of early farms. They were a picturesque touch on the island, called by an early Italian navigator God's Little Isle.
 

On the southeastern shore Blake parked the car on Mohegan Bluffs. The picture-postcard lighthouse sat on the point of the bluffs, the rustic house and tower looking out to sea. Its navigational beacon was one of the most powerful on the New England coastline.
 

The salty breeze off the ocean was cool. Dina zipped the coral windbreaker up to her neck while Blake locked the car. Screeching seagulls soared overhead as they walked together past the lighthouse to the steep path leading down the headland to the beach.
 

A fisherman stood knee-deep in the surf, casting a fly line into the whitecaps. He nodded a friendly acknowledgment to them as they strolled by. Blake's arms was around Dina's shoulders, keeping her close to his side. She stepped over a piece of driftwood and turned her gaze up to his face. His features were relaxed with a look of contentment about them.
 

“Why are we getting along so well?” she mused, more to herself than to him.
 

“Maybe it's because we've stopped looking at each other,” Blake suggested.
 

“What?” A bewildered frown creased her forehead, confusion darkening the blue of her eyes.
 

“It does sound a bit strange, doesn't it?” A faint smile touched his mouth when he glanced at her, then he directed his gaze ahead of them, a contemplative look about his expression. “What I think I mean is that we've stopped trying to see the flaws in each other, the differences. We've started looking outward together.”
 

“Do you suppose that's it?” Dina, too, shifted her gaze to the beach in front of them.
 

“Why bother to analyze the reason?” he countered. “Why not just enjoy it?”
 

“That's true.” She scuffed a canvas toe against a stone. “Except that I like to know the why of things.”
 

“So I remember,” Blake murmured dryly. “Like the time I gave you your engagement ring and you wanted to know what made me decide to propose to you.”
 

Dina laughed. “And you said it was because I would make such a beautiful ornament in your home.” The laughter died as she gave him a guarded look. “Is that the way you regard women? As ornaments?”
 

There was a hint of exasperation in his impatient glance. “You should know me better than that, Dina.”
 

She was silent for several paces. “That's the problem, I guess—I'm not certain anymore how well I know you. You always seemed so cultured. Now—” she lifted her hand in a searching gesture “—you are so ... earthy.”
 

“I suppose I learned that the basics of life are more important. The rest is just window dressing. Fundamentally I don't believe I've changed.”
 

“Perhaps I was so busy looking for the window dressing that I didn't recognize you,” she wondered aloud.
 

“Perhaps,” Blake conceded. He flashed her a quick smile. “How did we get started on such a serious discussion?”
 

His lightning switch from a pensive mood to one that was lightly teasing was infectious. Dina responded immediately, “I don't know. You started it.”
 

“No, I didn't. You did,” he corrected her in the same light vein, “when you questioned why we weren't arguing.”
 

“You didn't have to answer me, so therefore it's all your fault,” she shrugged.
 

“Logic like that could only come from a woman;” Blake declared with an amused shake of his head.
 

“Are you making disparaging remarks against my sex again?” she demanded in mock anger.
 

“I'm just stating facts,” he insisted.
 

Dina gave him a sideways push with her shoulder. Knocked off balance, his arm slipped from around her and he had to take a step to one side to recover. Their aimless pace had taken them closer to the water's edge than either had realized, and when Blake took that step, his foot—shoe, sock and trouser cuff landed in salt water—Dina gasped in a laugh at the one wet foot.
 

“So you think its funny, do you?” He took a playfully threatening step toward her.
 

Unconsciously she began to retreat. “Honestly, Blake, I'm sorry.” She was trying hard not to laugh, but it bubbled in her voice. “I didn't know. I didn't mean to push you in the water, honestly.”
 

Blake continued to approach her. “Let's see if it's so funny when you get wet.”
 

“Blake, no!” Dina kept backing up, swallowing the laughter as she negatively shook the silver gold mane of her hair.
 

The wicked glint in his eye warned her that words would not appease him. Turning, she ran, sprinting for the rock bluff at a safer distance from the lapping ocean waves. Blake chased her, his long strides eating up her short lead. Any moment he would overtake her, Dina knew, and she spared a laughing glance over her shoulder.
 

A piece of driftwood in her path tripped her and sent her sprawling headlong onto the beach. Her outstretched arms broke most of her fall. Unharmed, she rolled onto her back, out of breath but still trying not to laugh, as Blake dropped to his knees beside her.
 

“Are you all right?” he asked, half smiling and half concerned.
 

“Fine,” she managed to gasp.
 

Sitting on his heels, Blake watched silently as she caught her breath. But as her breathing slowed, her heartbeat increased. An exciting tension was leaping between them, quivering over her nerve ends in lightning stimulation.
 

Blake moved forward as if to assist her to her feet, but as he moved closer, arms bracing him above her, her lips parted, glistening moistly. Dina lifted her hands to his chest as if to resist him, but instead they slid around his neck, pulling him down.
 

Fire ignited at the hard pressure of his mouth, hungry and demanding. It spread through her veins, her bones melting under the intense heat. The weight of his body crushed her to the rocky sand. It was an exquisite pain. No part of her was immune to the fire Blake was arousing so thoroughly.
 

Reeling under the torrid assault of his desire, she knew she had lost control. She made no attempt to regain it, willing to let his lips dominate hers for as long as he chose. With each breath, she drew in the intoxicating scent of him, warm and magic, a fuel for the fire that consumed her.
 

Never had Dina felt so alive. Every corner of her heart was filled with love, overflowing and spilling out like a volcano. Any differences were burned away by the fiery embrace that transcended physical limits.
 

“Hey, mister?” She heard a child's voice when previously she had only been able to hear the pagan rhythms of their matching heartbeats. “Hey, mister!” This time the voice was more insistent and Blake dragged his mouth from hers to roll onto his side. “Have you seen my puppy?”
 

A young boy of six stood beside them, knees dirty, a baseball cap on his light brown hair, staring at them innocently. Dina could feel Blake gathering the control to answer him.
 

“No, son, I haven't.” His reply was tight and brief to conceal the raggedness of his breathing.
 

“He's white and black with a red collar,” the boy explained.
 

“Sorry, we haven't seen him,” Blake repeated patiently.
 

“If you do, would you bring him back to me?
 

“Sure.”
 

“Thanks.” And he trotted off, disappearing around a jutting promontory on the beach.
 

Blake stared in the direction the boy had taken. “A few more seconds and it could have been embarrassing,” he remarked grimly. “Come on.” Rolling to his feet, he caught at Dina's hand to pull her along with him.
 

“Where are we going?” There was a faint pink to her cheeks.
 

“Back to the hotel.”
 

“Why?”
 

“You,re forgetting,” he answered accusingly, flashing her a look that still had the smoldering light of desire. “I have a wet shoe, sock and pant leg.”
 

Slightly subdued, Dina offered, “I'm sorry about that.”
 

“I'm not.” His finger touched her lips, tracing their outline, warm and still throbbing from his possession of them. “If that's what I get for a wet foot, I can't help wondering what would happen if I'd been drenched from head to toe.” She breathed in sharply, wanting to tell him he didn't have to wait to find out, but she simply couldn't say the words. Blake didn't wait for her to speak, removing his fingers from her lips to encircle her hand. “Let's go, shall we?”
 

Dina nodded in silent agreement.
 

The magic moment lay between them on their return trip to the hotel, the irrevocable change it had made unspoken. But it was there in the looks they exchanged, in the things they didn't say and in the way they avoided physical contact with each other. They each seemed to know how combustible a touch could be and were not ready to start a false fire.
 

Neither of them was willing to acknowledge the change in the relationship. At the same time, they couldn't go back to the cold hostility that had preceded the visit to the island. They each played a waiting game.
 

After a late lunch in the hotel restaurant, they entered the lobby. Blake stopped short and turned to Dina. “We're checking out and going home,” he announced.
 

“It's only Saturday,” she protested.