Temptation (9 page)

He released the first button of her blouse, then the second, following the course with his lips. She shivered with anticipation. Her lace cuffs brushed against his cheeks as she lifted her hands to his hair. It seemed her body was filling, flooding with sensations she'd once only imagined. Now they were so real and so clear that she could feel each one as it layered over the next.

The pillows at her back were soft. His body was hard and hot. The breeze that jingled the wind chime overhead was freshened with flowers. Behind her closed eyes came the flicker and glow of candlelight. In teams of thousands, the cicadas began to sing. But more thrilling, more intense, was the sound of her name whispering from him as he pressed his lips against her skin.

Suddenly, searing, his mouth took hers again. In the kiss she could taste everything, his need, his desire, the passion that teetered on the edge of sanity. As her own madness hovered, she felt her senses swimming with him. And she moaned with the ecstasy of falling in love.

For one brief moment, she rose on it, thrilled with the knowledge that she had found him. The dream and the reality were both here. She had only to close them both in her arms and watch them become one.

Then the terror of it fell on her. She couldn't let it be real. How could she risk it? Once she had given her trust and her promise, if not her heart. And she had been betrayed. If it happened again, she would never recover. If it happened with Chase, she wouldn't want to.

“Chase, no more.” She turned her face away and tried to clear her head. “Please, this has to stop.”

Her taste was still exploding in his mouth. Beneath his, her body was trembling with a need he knew matched his own. “Eden, for God's sake.” With an effort that all but drained him, he lifted his head to look down at her. She was afraid. He recognized her fear immediately and struggled to hold back his own needs. “I won't hurt you.”

That almost undid her. He meant it, she was sure, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen. “Chase, this isn't right for me. For either of us.”

“Isn't it?” Tension knotted in his stomach as he drew her toward him. “Can you tell me you didn't feel how right it was a minute ago?”

“No.” It was both confusion and fear that had her dragging her hands through her hair. “But this isn't what I want. I need you to understand that this can't be what I want. Not now.”

“You're asking a hell of a lot.”

“Maybe. But there isn't any choice.”

That infuriated him. She was the one who had taken his choice away, simply by existing. He hadn't asked her to fall into his life. He hadn't asked her to become the focus of it before he had a chance for a second breath. She'd given in to him to the point where he was half-mad for her. Now she was drawing away. And asking him to understand.

“We'll play it your way.” His tone chilled as he drew away from her.

She shuddered, recognizing instantly that his anger could be lethal. “It's not a game.”

“No? Well, in any case, you play it well.”

She pressed her lips together, understanding that she deserved at least a part of the lash. “Please, don't spoil what happened.”

He walked to the table and, lifting his glass, studied the wine. “What did happen?”

I fell in love with you.
Rather than answer him, she began to button her blouse with nerveless fingers.

“I'll tell you.” He tossed back the remaining wine, but it didn't soothe him. “Not for the first time in our fascinating relationship, you blew hot and cold without any apparent reason. It makes me wonder if Eric backed out of the marriage out of self-defense.”

He saw her fingers freeze on the top button of her blouse. Even in the dim light, he could watch the color wash out of her face. Very carefully, he set his glass down again. “I'm sorry, Eden. That was uncalled for.”

The fight for control and composure was a hard war, but she won. She made her fingers move until the button was in place, then, slowly, she rose. “Since you're so interested, I'll tell you that Eric jilted me for more practical reasons. I appreciate the meal, Chase. It was lovely. Please thank Delaney for me.”

“Damn it, Eden.”

When he started forward, her body tightened like a bow. “If you could do one thing for me, it would be to take me back now and say nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Turning, she walked away from the candlelight.

Chapter 6

During the first weeks of August, the camp was plagued with one calamity after another. The first was an epidemic of poison ivy. Within twenty-four hours, ten of the girls and three of the counselors were coated with calamine lotion. The sticky heat did nothing to make the itching more bearable.

Just as the rashes started to fade came three solid days of rain. As the camp was transformed into a muddy mire, outdoor activities were canceled. Tempers soared. Eden broke up two hair-pulling battles in one day. Then, as luck would have it, lightning hit one of the trees and distracted the girls from their boredom.

By the time the sun came out, they had enough pot holders, key chains, wallets and pillows to open their own craft shop.

Men with Jeeps and chain saws came to clear away the debris from the tree. Eden wrote out a check and prayed the last crisis was over.

It was doubtful the check had even been cashed when the secondhand restaurant stove she and Candy had bought stopped working. In the three days the parts were on order, cooking was done in true camp style—around an open fire.

The gelding, Courage, developed an infection that settled in his lungs. Everyone in camp worried about him and fussed over him and pampered him. The vet dosed him with penicillin. Eden spent three sleepless nights in the stables, nursing him and waiting for the crisis to pass.

Eventually the horse's appetite improved, the mud in the compound dried and the stove was back in working order. Eden told herself that the worst had to be over as the camp's routine picked up again.

Yet oddly, the lull brought out a restlessness she'd been able to ignore while the worst was happening. At dusk, she wandered to the stables with her sackful of apples. It wasn't hard to give a little extra attention to Courage. He'd gotten used to being pampered during his illness. Eden slipped him a carrot to go with the apple.

Still, as she worked her way down the stalls, she found the old routine didn't keep her mind occupied. The emergencies over the past couple of weeks had kept her too busy to take a second breath, much less think. Now, with calm settling again, thinking was unavoidable.

She could remember her evening with Chase as if it had been the night before. Every word spoken, every touch, every gesture, was locked in her mind as it had been when it had been happening. The rushing, tumbling sensation of falling in love was just as vital now, and just as frightening.

She hadn't been prepared for it. Her life had always been a series of preparations and resulting actions. Even her engagement had been a quiet step along a well-paved road. Since then, she'd learned to handle the detours and the roadblocks. But Chase was a sudden one-way street that hadn't been on any map.

It didn't matter, she told herself as she finished Patience's rubdown. She would navigate this and swing herself back in the proper direction. Having her choices taken away at this point in her life wasn't something she would tolerate. Not even when the lack of choice seemed so alluring and so right.

“I thought I'd find you here.” Candy leaned against the stall door to give the mare a pat. “How was Courage tonight?”

“Good.” Eden walked to the little sink in the corner to wash liniment from her hands. “I don't think we have to worry about him anymore.”

“I'm glad to know that you'll be using your bunk instead of a pile of hay.”

Eden pressed both hands to the small of her back and stretched. No demanding set of tennis had ever brought on this kind of ache. Strangely enough, she liked it. “I never thought I'd actually look forward to sleeping in that bunk.”

“Well, now that you're not worried about the gelding, I can tell you I'm worried about you.”

“Me?” Eden looked for a towel and, not finding one, dried her hands on her jeans. “Why?”

“You're pushing yourself too hard.”

“Don't be silly. I'm barely pulling my weight.”

“That stopped being even close to the truth the second week of camp.” Now that she'd decided to speak up, Candy took a deep breath. “Damn it, Eden, you're exhausted.”

“Tired,” Eden corrected her. “Which is nothing a few hours on that miserable bunk won't cure.”

“Look, it's okay if you want to avoid the issue with everyone else, even with yourself. But don't do it with me.”

It wasn't often Candy's voice took on that firm, no-nonsense tone. Eden lifted a brow and nodded. “All right, what is the issue?”

“Chase Elliot,” Candy stated, and she saw Eden freeze up. “I didn't hound you with questions the night you came back from dinner.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“Well, don't, because I'm asking now.”

“We had dinner, talked a bit about books and music, then he brought me back.”

Candy closed the stall door with a creak. “I thought I was your friend.”

“Oh, Candy, you know you are.” With a sigh, Eden closed her eyes a moment. “All right, we did exactly what I said we did, but somewhere between the talk and the ride home, things got a little out of hand.”

“What sort of things?”

Eden found she didn't even have the energy to laugh. “I've never known you to pry.”

“I've never known you to settle comfortably into depression.”

“Am I?” Eden blew her bangs out of her eyes. “God, maybe I am.”

“Let's just say that you've jumped from one problem to the next in order to avoid fixing one of your own.” Taking a step closer, Candy drew Eden down on a small bench. “So let's talk.”

“I'm not sure I can.” Linking her hands, Eden looked down at them. The opal ring that had once been her mother's winked back at her. “I promised myself after Papa died and everything was in such a mess that I would handle things and find the best way to solve the problems. I've needed to solve them myself.”

“That doesn't mean you can't lean on a friend.”

“I've leaned on you so much I'm surprised you can walk upright.”

“I'll let you know when I start limping. Eden, unless my memory's faulty, we've taken turns leaning on each other since before either of us could walk. Tell me about Chase.”

“He scares me.” With a long breath, Eden leaned back against the wall. “Everything's happening so fast, and everything I feel seems so intense.” Dropping the last of her guard, she turned her face to Candy's. “If things had worked out differently, I'd be married to another man right now. How can I even think I might be in love with someone else so soon?”

“You're not going to tell me you think you're fickle.” The last thing Eden had expected was Candy's bright, bubbling laughter, but that was what echoed off the stable walls. “Eden, I'm the fickle one, remember? You've always been loyal to a fault. Wait, I can see you're getting annoyed, so let's take this logically.” Candy crossed her ankles and began to count off on her fingers.

“First, you were engaged to Eric—the slime—because of all the reasons we've discussed before. It seemed the proper thing to do. Were you in love with him?”

“No, but I thought—”

“Irrelevant. No is the answer. Second, he showed his true colors, the engagement's been off for months, and you've met a fascinating, attractive man. Now, let's even take it a step further.” Warming up to the subject, Candy shifted on the bench. “Suppose—God forbid—that you had actually been madly in love with Eric. After he had shown himself to be a snake, your heart would have been broken. With time and effort, you would have pulled yourself back together. Right?”

“I certainly like to think so.”

“So we agree.”

“Marginally.”

That was enough for Candy. “Then, heart restored, if you'd met a fascinating and attractive man, you would have been equally free to fall for him. Either way, you're in the clear.” Satisfied, Candy rose and dusted her palms on her jeans. “So what's the problem?”

Not certain she could explain, or even make sense of it herself, Eden looked down at her hands. “Because I've learned something. Love is a commitment, it's total involvement, promises, compromises. I'm not sure I can give those things to anyone yet. And if I were, I don't know if Chase feels at all the same way.”

“Eden, your instincts must tell you he does.”

With a shake of her head, she rose. She did feel better having said it all out loud, but that didn't change the bottom line. “I've learned not to trust my instincts, but to be realistic. Which is why I'm going to go hit the account books.”

“Oh, Eden, give it a break.”

“Unfortunately, I had to give it a break during the poison ivy, the lightning, the stove breakdown and the vet visits.” Hooking her arm through Candy's, she started to walk toward the door. “You were right, and talking it out helped, but practicality is still the order of the day.”

“Meaning checks and balances.”

“Right. I'd really like to get to it. The advantage is I can frazzle my brain until the bunk really does feel like a feather bed.”

Candy pushed open the door, then squared her shoulders. “I'll help.”

“Thanks, but I'd like to finish them before Christmas.”

“Oh, low blow, Eden.”

“But true.” She latched the door behind them. “Don't worry about me, Candy. Talking about it cleared my head a bit.”

“Doing something about it would be better, but it's a start. Don't work too late.”

“A couple of hours,” Eden promised.

The office, as Eden arrogantly called it, was a small side room off the kitchen. After switching on the gooseneck lamp on the metal army-surplus desk, she adjusted the screen, flap up. As an afterthought, she switched the transistor radio on the corner of the desk to a classical station. The quiet, familiar melodies would go a long way toward calming her.

Still, as always, she drew in a deep breath as she took her seat behind the desk. Here, she knew too well, things were black-and-white. There were no multiple choices, no softening the rules as there could be in other areas of the camp. Figures were figures and facts were facts. It was up to her to tally them.

Opening the drawers, she pulled out invoices, the business checkbook and the ledger. She began systematically sorting and entering as the tape spilled out of the adding machine at her elbow.

Within twenty minutes, she knew the worst. The additional expenses of the past two weeks had stretched their capital to the limit. No matter how many ways Eden worked the numbers, the answer was the same. They weren't dead broke, but painfully close to it. Wearily, she rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

They could still make it, she told herself. She pressed her hand down on the pile of papers, letting her palm cover the checks and balances. By the skin of their teeth, she thought, but they could still make it. If there were no more unexpected expenses. And if, she continued, the pile seeming to grow under her hand, she and Candy lived frugally over the winter. She imagined the pile growing another six inches under her restraining hand. If they got the necessary enrollments for the next season, everything would turn around.

Curling her fingers around the papers, she let out a long breath. If one of those
ifs
fell through, she still had some jewelry that could be sold.

The lamplight fell across her opal-and-diamond ring, but she looked away, feeling guilty at even considering selling it. But she would. If her other choices were taken away, she would. What she wouldn't do was give up.

The tears began so unexpectedly that they fell onto the blotter before she knew she had shed them. Even as she wiped them away, new ones formed. There was no one to see, no one to hear. Giving in, Eden laid her head on the piles of bills and let the tears come.

They wouldn't change anything. With tears would come no fresh ideas or brilliant answers, but she let them come anyway. Quite simply, her strength had run out.

He found her like that, weeping almost soundlessly over the neat stacks of paper. At first Chase only stood there, with the door not quite shut at his back. She looked so helpless, so utterly spent. He wanted to go to her, but held himself back. He understood that the tears would be private. She wouldn't want to share them, particularly not with him. And yet, even as he told himself to step back, he moved toward her.

“Eden.”

Her head shot up at the sound of her name. Her eyes were drenched, but he saw both shock and humiliation in them before she began to dry her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” It sounded simple enough, but didn't come close to what was moving inside him. He wanted to go to her, to gather her close and fix whatever was wrong. He stuck his hands in his pockets and remained standing just inside the door. “I just heard about the gelding this morning. Is he worse?”

She shook her head, then struggled to keep her voice calm. “No, he's better. It wasn't as serious as we thought it might be.”

“That's good.” Frustrated by his inability to think of something less inane, he began to pace. How could he offer comfort when she wouldn't share the problem? Her eyes were dry now, but he knew it was pride, and pride alone, that held her together. The hell with her pride, he thought. He needed to help.

When he turned back, he saw she had risen from the desk. “Why don't you tell me about it?”

The need to confide in him was so painfully strong that she automatically threw up the customary shield. “There's nothing to tell. It's been a rough couple of weeks. I suppose I'm overtired.”

It was more than that, he thought, though she did look exhausted. “The girls getting to you?”

“No, really, the girls are fine.”

Frustrated, he looked for another answer. The radio was playing something slow and romantic. Glancing toward it, Chase noticed the open ledger. The tail of adding-machine tape was spilling onto the floor. “Is it money? I could help.”