The Vision (17 page)

felt every little quiver and movement within her, buried his face in the wealth of her hair.

Then he forced himself up, looking at her. Her eyes remained steady and wide on his.

“That was…” he whispered, then ran out of words.

She smiled. “Not bad,” she said, a slight smile teasing her lips.

“Not bad?”

“Kind of like being with a Nordic god for real.”

“That’s better,” he assured her.

“Thunder and lightning and all that,” she murmured. She reached out, touching his face.

“Too much like a god, maybe…”

“Never too much,” he assured her. Her lashes swept to her cheeks, hiding her thoughts.

“Then again, never put a man on a pedestal,” he warned.

“You don’t want to be on a pedestal?” she asked lightly, meeting his gaze again.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to fall off.” Then he asked her seriously, “Why

would you be afraid of me?”

“I’m not afraid of you, exactly,” she murmured.

“What are you afraid of, then?”

“Myself,” she murmured, looking away once more. Then she stared up at him again.

There was a very strange—given the circumstances—prim and almost shy tone in her

voice as she asked, “May I stay?”

“Are you joking?”

“I—”

“I would somehow dredge up the violence of my ancestors, conk you over the head and

bodily hold on to you if you tried to leave,” he assured her solemnly.

The gratitude in her eyes touched him to the core, tore at his heart as deeply as her

sensuality affected his desires. Deeper, if at all possible.

“Thanks.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

She laughed and eased into his arms. He rested on an elbow, fascinated just to let his fingers stroke down the length of her back. “I don’t suppose you’re going to explain what

you meant before.”

“What I meant about what?” she murmured.

“Being afraid of yourself.”

He felt the subtle tension in her as she tightened in his arms. “Nothing,” she murmured.

He wanted to press the matter, but he didn’t. Right now, he wanted her at ease and

comfortable beside him more than he wanted the truth. He laid his head down by hers,

still stroking the long and elegant line of her back. In a while, he realized she had fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure what kind of a comment that was on his sexual prowess, but he

was gratified she had found the serenity to sleep at his side.

Later in the night, he awoke when she shifted against him. That time their lovemaking

began with the brush of her fingers against his stomach, then a slow fusion of their

bodies. Soon he was fully awake, just as impassioned, as desperate, as volatile as before.

The climax was just as shattering, the aftermath just as sweet, as lazy, with no words

spoken—just her body curled against his trustingly as she drifted to sleep once again.

He lay awake while she slept. She was incredible. Hot, bright, electric. He was crazy,

letting himself become involved with her. Because she was…

Seeing ghosts. And he was being swept into her world as if into a vortex. He was crazy to

let this happen, because…

Because it was crazy to fall for someone who might be totally insane.

There was no way Genevieve regretted what she had done. She had never become

involved with anyone lightly, never without feeling something real—except, of course,

when she entered into the ridiculous bet with Thor. But even then…as incredibly arrogant

and obnoxious as she had found him, she had also found him compelling, even if only

sexually at the time. Sadly, she mused, awaking in the morning, still comfortable and

ridiculously secure in his arms, she had discovered she found him fascinating, not as

arrogant as she had assumed, and not at all obnoxious. She cared about him. Worse, she

really liked him and admired him.

He had been kind to her last night.

Kind? She didn’t want kindness. Although, she mused, they also had incredible

chemistry. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t still questioning her sanity. After all, she had

literally stripped for him and asked him to bed. Not too many men would have turned her

down.

So they hadn’t sworn eternal vows. She wouldn’t have wanted such a relationship,

anyway. Real involvement meant so much more than sex, a true learning about each

other. But…she did care about him. She didn’t want this to be an “I’m afraid and you’re

great in bed” situation.

But no ghosts had darkened her dreams when she had been with him. She had been completely involved, felt completely protected, even in sleep.

He rose. She heard him enter the bathroom, heard the shower start. A few minutes later,

he walked out in a towel—damn, he wore a towel well—and strode out to the kitchenette

to put coffee on. She rolled out of bed, headed into the shower herself, and emerged in a

towel, as well, just in time to be offered a cup of coffee.

“Good morning. Are you sorry you’re here?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “I came here of my own free will, remember?”

“I’m still not sure why,” he told her.

She was tempted to ask him if it really mattered so much. She refrained. “Good coffee,”

she said instead.

“It’s hard to mess up when it comes premeasured,” he said, studying her. He set his cup

down and put his hand on her shoulders. “I actually thought you’d try to disappear by

first light or something,” he told her.

“No,” she said softly.

“Should I slip you out somehow, pretend you were never here?” he asked, his voice

pleasantly soft, a bit amused.

“No. Not unless you don’t want people to know I was here,” she said.

That brought a deep smile. She wasn’t sure what it meant.

“I do have a lunch date, though. With Bethany. We’re going to see an old friend.”

“Ah, yes. The mystic.” He made his voice spooky for the final word.

She hoped she kept her tone level and her voice indifferent. “Don’t go telling anyone

else, but Audrey is the first to admit she doesn’t see a thing. She does what she does to

make money, and apparently she does well. Not a bad business to run in Key West.”

He nodded, waiting.

“Actually, though,” she admitted ruefully, “I didn’t exactly dress to be seen, and I

imagine others are up and about now. Then again, I did walk through town in high-heeled

sandals and a nightshirt.”

“Ditch the sandals. The nightshirt could just be a bathing suit cover-up,” he told her

gravely. “It will be just fine. Or, if you’d rather, you can give me the key and I’ll walk

over to your cottage and get whatever you’d like. But first, you might want to tell me

why you decided to walk through the streets of Key West in high-heeled sandals and a

nightshirt.”

She ignored the last. By morning’s light, he seemed taller and far more solid and entirely

businesslike—sane, no-nonsense, living in the real world—more so than ever before.

And, as she stood there, feeling his eyes on her, his hands on her shoulders, even more

arresting. She was startled by the little pang that teased not just her senses but her heart.

He was perfect. He loved what she loved. He seemed to have ethics she had never

suspected. She wanted to…

Sleep with him, yes. But also have breakfast, walk on the beach…curl up to watch a

movie, go horseback riding…spend endless time with him.

“If you’d go to my cottage for some clothes, that would be really great,” she told him.

“All right.”

But he was still staring at her. Then he began to smile. And she knew from that smile just

what he was feeling. Like a current, the heat of arousal raced through her, quickening her

muscles.

He took the coffee cup from her, and then she was in his arms again. The towels were lost

somewhere before they reached the bed. His every whisper, every move, was erotic. She

wondered vaguely if that was simply because he was such an incredible lover, or because

it was him. His breath against her flesh was a rapid-fire arousal. The brush of his

fingers…the liquid of his kiss. And touching him…each ripple of muscle, pulse and

tightness she created in him seemed to deepen her own sense of urgency and desire. In

the end there was wildfire, sweet excitement, agony, longing, a climax that was violent

and shattering…and the feel of his arms around her, as if she were the most wonderful

woman in the world, the most cherished.

And then, a soft sigh of regret. “I guess we should try the coffee thing again,” he

murmured. He rose; she heard the shower again. She was tempted to rise, to slip in with

him.

But she had plans for the day, and they were important.

Desperate, actually.

He emerged, and she was somewhat surprised to see him dress as if for a casual business

meeting, wearing black trousers and a short-sleeved tailored shirt. But he had refrained

from pressing her, so she decided it wasn’t her business to ask him what he was doing.

“Give me the key and tell me what you want, and I’ll try to find it,” he told her.

Thirty minutes later, he returned, bringing her a choice of clothing. She thanked him,

showered and dressed. He was sipping coffee on the porch when she emerged.

“I imagine everyone is going to know we’re having an affair,” he told her, looking out

across the sand. “I ran into Jack and Alex when I went to your cottage earlier.” He

grinned at her. “They’ll all be talking about us today.”

She shrugged. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

She was surprised when he studied her gravely. “I seldom, if ever, do anything I’d have

to hide,” he told her. “Unless I was asked.” Then his smile returned. “Are we having an

affair?”

For some reason, the simple question seemed to give her a little thrill, a renewed sense of warmth.

“I’d certainly hate to think I wasn’t going to be with you again,” she said softly.

“I’ll see you later, then.”

She smiled and started across the sand. Then she paused and turned back. “I’ll be at the

tiki bar later, I guess.”

“I have some things to do today. But I’ll make sure to end up there.”

It was frightening to feel such a burst of happiness at his words. But she merely waved

casually and started over to Bethany’s cottage.

Bethany must have been watching, because the door opened before Genevieve even

reached the porch.

“Hey,” Bethany said. She was grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey.”

“That’s all?” Bethany grabbed her by the arm, practically dragging her inside. “‘Hey?’”

She took a moment to stare into Genevieve’s eyes. “Oh, my God—you slept with him!”

“Bethany—”

“Details!”

“No way.”

“I knew it. I knew it from the first second I saw you two together. It was in the air. I got hot just watching the two of you stare at each other.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Was he incredible?” Bethany asked eagerly.

“Bethany!”

“Was he?”

“Yes. Now can we go to lunch?”

“Lunch? You wound up in his cottage for a night of total abandon, and you’re worried

about lunch? I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Genevieve groaned. “Bethany…” She hesitated. “Bethany, I still need help,” she said

softly.

Bethany sobered instantly, putting her arm around Genevieve and pulling her tight for a

minute. “It’s going to be fine. Really. But…wait,” she said, studying Genevieve’s eyes.

“Something else happened. Oh, my God! That’s why you wound up at his cottage. You’d gone home, so what happened that made you come back here?”

“Nothing happened. I just decided I wanted company.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I just didn’t like being alone.”

Bethany looked at her shrewdly. “Let’s see. You’ve known me all your life. And Victor.

And Alex is on our team. Marshall is like, well…he’s practically Uncle Marshall. Hell,

you’ve even known Jack since you were a kid. But who did you run to? Thor

Thompson.”

“Bethany, we have to get going.”

“So let’s go. You can give me the details as we walk.”

“So you finally got Gen over to your place, huh?” Jack said, grinning. “You should feel

privileged. That girl doesn’t play around. She’s seriously discriminating. She is one

woman who can pick and choose. But she’s great, huh? Sorry, that’s not from experience.

I just remember watching her grow up. She always promised to be extraordinary.”

“She is a beautiful woman,” Thor said, regretting the fact that he’d stopped at the tiki bar before taking off. A phone call from Jay had come less than ten minutes after Genevieve

had left. He was to meet him at the station at Stock Island in an hour. He was only here

because he’d known he could get breakfast fast. But Jack had been here already, savoring

an omelet. Victor appeared just as Jack finished speaking.

And it was hard to escape when he’d just ordered food.

“Hey, hey, hey…so those who discover together sleep together, huh?” Victor teased,

taking a seat at the bar alongside Thor and Jack.

Apparently, it didn’t matter that Jack had been talking about Genevieve; the fact that she

had walked into his cottage late last night and walked out that morning might as well

have been on wide-screen TV.

“As long as our Gen is happy,” Jack said. He was still grinning, but there seemed to be a

paternal warning in the words despite the fact that he was working for Thor.

“If she’s happy, I’m happy,” Thor said smoothly.

“Yeah?” Victor accepted a cup of coffee from the morning bartender and turned to Thor.

“But you think she’s crazy, right? What the hell. If I met a stranger who looked like Gen