The Promise (18 page)

Thanks to Michael.

He glanced in her direction, the smile in his eyes
making her stomach turn to jelly. She sucked in a breath and turned
to look at the smoldering remnants of her gallery. Everything was
gone. All her paintings reduced to cinders and ashes. She felt
tears threatening again, but angrily pushed them away. It wouldn't
do any good to cry.

This was all her fault.

The man who'd sold her the building had warned her
about the space heaters. Even Nick had recommended that she install
central heat. But it was expensive and she'd decided that as long
as she was careful, avoiding open flames, she'd be able to make
do.

Famous last words.

"Cara, my God, I came as soon as I heard." Nick sat
down on the cot beside her, his face flushed, as if he'd been
running. "Are you all right?"

She tried for a smile but missed. "I'm fine.
Really."

"I told you to replace those damn space heaters."
There was a note of anger in his voice.

"I know you did. But right now I'm not up to a
lecture. Okay?" She closed her eyes, wishing he'd just go away.

"I'm sorry, Cara mia. It's just that I heard the fire
engines, then I saw the gallery..." His face softened, his anger
dissipating. "What were you doing in there?" He gestured to the
smoking rubble. "When I saw you, you were headed to Belle's for ice
cream."

"I forgot to sign the manifest."

"The shipment with the Promise?"

She nodded her head, miserably. Of all she'd lost,
the paintings of the mine had been the most precious to her, work
that could never be duplicated.

He frowned, then grimaced, the full impact of her
words hitting him. "You lost the entire series? Even the ones that
had already been crated?"

Cara nodded her head, a tear sliding down the crevice
between her nose and cheek.

"Pity." The word hung between them, and Cara wondered
if Nick was feeling sorry for her or for himself. "Shall I drive
you to the hospital?"

"No." The word came out more sharply than she had
intended. "I just want to go home."

"Let me take you, then." He laid a hand on her knee
and she shivered at the contact, pulling away.

"I'll take her home, Vargas." Michael reached the
edge of the cot and held out a hand. "Are you ready?"

"Is it okay for us to go?" She took his hand and
stood, grateful when he slipped an arm around her for support.
"Thanks, I guess I'm still a little wobbly." She leaned against
him, feeling his hard body against hers.

He smiled down at her. "No problem. I'd say turnabout
is fair play."

"Well, I can see you're in good hands." Nick rose,
too, making no effort to conceal the sarcasm in his voice. "You
obviously don't need me." He leaned over and kissed her lightly on
the cheek, shooting an angry glance in Michael's direction.

She felt Michael tense and his arm tightened around
her. Nick's eyes met hers and his lips twisted into the semblance
of a smile. Then, with a brief nod, he turned and walked away. Cara
blew out a breath in relief.

"Where did he come from?" Michael watched through
narrowed eyes as Nick disappeared around a corner.

"From the bar, I guess. He heard the sirens."

"You folks all right? We're fixin' to head back to
the station." The fireman's teeth gleamed white against his
charcoal stained face.

"We're fine. Thanks for everything." Michael released
her and shook hands with the man.

Cara tried to summon the words to show her thanks,
but suddenly, she wasn't sure that she had anything to be thankful
for.

"Any idea what caused this?" Michael's words burned
like acid against skin. She swallowed, watching the fireman's face,
almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Can't say for sure, but looks like it was a propane
heater. Those things are accidents waiting to happen, and when you
add paint solvents to the mix, well…" He shrugged.

Cara felt sick. It
was
her fault. She clenched
her fists, trying to control the agony welling up inside her.
Michael and the man were still talking, but the words stopped
making sense. They ebbed and flowed around her, but she was no
longer listening, her eyes fixed on the charred remains of the
gallery.

Wisps of smoke curled lazily among the broken beams
and shattered walls that marked all that was left of her studio. In
the span of a few short hours, her life's work had quite literally
gone up in smoke.

Michael's strong fingers curled around hers, his
touch sending shivers of warmth coursing through her icy heart.

"It's all gone." Her voice quivered, echoing the pain
inside.

His hand tightened on hers. "No, Cara, not
everything."

She tipped her head up to meet the intensity of his
gaze, her belly tightening as he bent his head to brush his lips
against hers.

"Let's go home," he whispered.

*****

Michael paced back and forth across Cara's
living room floor. What the hell was taking her so long. It seemed
that she'd been in there forever. He looked at the closed bathroom
door, willing it to open, his body coiled tighter than a rattler
ready to strike.

Finally, telling himself that he needed to make sure
she was all right, he flung open the door. She was standing in
front of the mirror, staring blankly at her naked reflection,
tracks from her tears still etched in the black soot on her face,
her silver pendant hanging from the fingers of one hand.

"Cara?"

She didn't move. Her other hand gripped the edge of
the counter so tightly her knuckles were white. He'd seen this
before. One summer when he'd worked at the mine, there'd been a
cave-in. Three men were trapped inside and only one had escaped. At
first, the man had been fine, even making jokes about it all. Then,
a couple of hours later, he'd started shaking, his eyes fixed and
staring. The doctor had called it shock.

He took the necklace from her hand, laying it by the
sink and gently loosened her grip on the counter, wrapping his arms
around her, pulling her into the curve of his body. Their eyes met
in the mirror and he was relieved to see a spark of life. He rubbed
his hands over her, trying to warm her, trying desperately not to
think about the silky skin beneath his fingers.

"You're cold. We need to get you into the
shower."

She nodded, her eyes still locked with his in the
mirror.

"Cara, say something, I need to know you're all
right."

She tilted her head regarding their reflection.
"Michael?"

"Come on, Cara, you've got to help me."

She nodded, but made no effort to move. He spun them
around, away from the mirror, and reached out to turn on the
spigots. Water gushed out and he marveled again at the ability to
get hot water with only a turn of a handle.

He urged her forward, trying to get her to step into
the warm stream of water. But she shook her head and nestled closer
to him, evidently unwilling to leave the circle of his arms.

"All right, then we'll have to do this together."
Holding her with one arm, he maneuvered them into the stall that
held the shower. The water ran over them like gentle fingers,
soaking his shirt. She stood still, letting the water run over her,
washing away the remnants of the fire. Black water pooled at their
feet running down the drain, leeching away until the water ran
clear.

Michael took the bar of softly scented soap and
slowly, gently began to massage it into her, starting with her
shoulders and working down in slow soothing circles, until she was
slippery with soap. Gritting his teeth, he tried not to think about
what he was doing, what he was touching. He tried to ignore the
single-minded part of his body already tightening with need. A
groan emanated from somewhere deep inside him as he tried to forget
just how badly he wanted this woman.

*****

Cara sighed with contentment. She had thought
she'd never feel warm again, but there was heat spreading inside
her, starting with her belly and inching outwards. She arched her
back, allowing the soothing fingers of water to stroke her.

They urged the heat onward, and she strained for
more, moving her body against the gentle rhythm of the water. Soap
slid down her and the contrast of the water against its slick
lather was almost unbearably wonderful. She felt her nipples harden
and swallowed a shallow moan.

She ran a hand down her body, lightly touching her
breasts and belly, and then stopped, puzzled when her hand
encountered another hand. One that definitely didn't belong to her.
Her eyes flew open and she turned to meet cobalt eyes.

Michael.

Her breath caught and she smiled slowly, feeling the
heat building in intensity. He stepped back, frowning, his eyes
searching hers. Immediately she shivered, missing the warmth of his
body against hers.

She bit her lower lip, suddenly uncertain. Was this a
dream?

With a slow deliberate movement, she raised her hand
and ran it along the curve of his jaw, feeling the rough beginnings
of his beard. She trailed her fingers across his lips, pleased when
she felt his body tremble at her touch. No, he was definitely
real.

With both hands she began to unbutton his shirt, her
eyes never leaving his. His breathing was harsh and his eyes were
still full of questions, but he let her remove his shirt.

Steam from the shower swirled around them and she
reached out to pull him closer. Her soapy skin slid against his,
the hair on his chest rasping against her already aroused nipples.
With a groan he bent his head, taking possession of her mouth. She
traced the line of his lower lip with her tongue, tasting him,
teasing him—wanting him.

His hands spread across the small of her back, urging
her closer. "Are you sure, Cara?"

The whispered words sent a shiver of desire shooting
down her spine to burst into tingling warmth deep inside her. She
had wanted this man for nine long years. And suddenly, all her
worries and fears paled in the blinding light of her need for
him.

"Oh, yes, Michael, I'm sure."

She sucked in a ragged breath, as he struggled out of
his pants. He was magnificent. Everything she'd dreamed he'd be.
She reached for him, pulling him close, letting the heat from the
water beat down on them.

*****

Michael's hands were shaking. He'd never
wanted any woman as much as he wanted Cara.
Had
wanted her,
for so many years. But still he hesitated. What did he have to
offer her? He was a misfit in her time. And he knew, with
certainty, that he had to go home. So what was he doing? Taking
what she had to offer and giving nothing in return?

He shuddered as she wrapped a hand around him. Shyly,
stroking, up and down, up and down. Oh God, she was amazing. He
found her lips and kissed her deeply, sucking and stroking with his
tongue, mimicking the actions of her hand, longing to bury himself
in her throbbing warmth. His hands cupped her bottom. And she
raised her arms to twine them in his hair, her breasts brushing
across his chest.

They gyrated together, following the moves of a
spontaneous dance, the feeling of their bodies, rubbing together,
intensified by the pulsing water. He tried to maintain rational
thought, but his heart was beating in tandem with hers and he knew
that, at least for this moment, she belonged to him.

And he would give her all that he had to give.

With a groan, he bent and took the tip of one rosy
breast into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, feeling it
tighten with his touch, the fingers of one hand trailing down her
belly in slow, sensuous circles. Sucking vigorously at her breast,
his hand moved even lower, sliding one finger inside, feeling her
heat surround him. She cried out as his finger found her soft
center, and he smiled, nipping at one taut nipple with his
teeth.

*****

Cara's body sang, with each stroke of his
finger, each tug of his mouth at her breast. The warmth was
building inside her, until she literally throbbed with desire,
wanting him to fill her until she burst.

He shifted, bringing his lips back to hers. Kissing
and stroking until she thought she would explode. "Please.
Please."

He pushed her back against the wall, bracing her body
with his. The water was behind them now, a waterfall of sound, the
resulting mist and steam twirling around them like fairy
lovers.

Keeping his weight against her chest, he cupped his
hands under her, lifting her up. With a moan, she twined her legs
around him, feeling him slide into her. With a gentle rocking
motion he began to tease her, sliding in and then out, in and then
out, in, out, in, out…

"Now."

The word echoed around them and with one long thrust,
he filled her. With driving need, she urged him to go deeper,
faster, begging for more. She wrapped her arms around him, holding
tightly as he held her pinned above the world. Her entire being
concentrated on the exquisite feel of him pounding deeper and
deeper, higher and higher, until the world erupted in one amazing
explosion of color and light, and she could no longer tell where he
ended and she began.

Gradually, softly, she slid down from the precipice,
until she rested comfortably, her head nestled against his
shoulder, a gentle rain washing them tenderly with fine fingers of
mist.

The sun was still hidden behind the
gray-white clouds clinging to the mountains. The heavenly curtain
diffused the sunrise, giving it an ethereal glow. Loralee sat in
the rocker on Ginny's porch, her soft humming a counterpoint to the
rhythm of the creaking runners. She breathed deeply, letting the
crisp morning air fill and renew her.