Whose Bed Is It Anyway? (13 page)

Lord, he was tragic. He needed to push back and find some distance for himself. Some perspective. One of James' medical colleagues walked by and James collared him in relief.

‘How long are you in town?' the doctor asked.

‘Couple weeks,' James answered. ‘Getting restless actually. If you need a hand with any tight shifts...' The guy worked at the hospital that James occasionally locumed in when in between assignments.

‘You're kidding. You're offering to come and work?'

James nodded. Work was good. Consistent. Easy in terms of its emotional demands—he knew how to manage those. It wore him out—but not in a bad way. It didn't leave him unsettled. How the hell could a holiday leave him this unsettled?

‘You never want time off?'

He wasn't sure he did. He hadn't had time off in so long and these few days with Caitlin... He wasn't sure how he felt—whether it was too much already or not enough. So he fudged answering, talked work for a while, then got talking sport, then back to business again with Lisbet when she arrived. He reminded her, and himself, that he was ready to go back to work whenever she needed him to. And he was, right?

Ready.

In the meantime Caitlin and Peggy and who knew who else kept chatting. He kept half an eye on her but she was fully engaged. For ages. He was almost angry by the time Caitlin turned back to him as Peggy walked away to speak with someone else. She took one look at his face and her brows lifted.

‘You spent hours talking to her,' he whispered in her ear as he handed her a fresh glass of champagne.

‘What?' she answered back sassily. ‘You missed me?'

Part of him sure had. And it wasn't the obvious. And there was the problem.

Caitlin kept stealing surreptitious glances at James as they chatted to various people for the next hour or so. He was very smooth, very polite, maintaining conversation on all kinds of topics. Yet she sensed his mind wasn't fully focused on the event at all. That inside, he was thinking about something else altogether. And for once she didn't think that something else was sex. Indeed, despite the impression she had that he didn't really want to be there, she didn't feel as if he was champing at the bit to leave either. She'd been thrilled at the possibility of getting in backstage at the theatre, but what she'd overheard now overshadowed that. Was he over them already? Was that why he'd offered to work at the hospital? Was he ready to fling their fling?

She smiled, she chatted. She tried not to care.

Back at the condo he sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

‘You're tired?' she asked blandly, still trying not to care.

He didn't answer. Just sent her a killer, heated look. His eyes black, his thoughts clearly back to carnal.

Oh. My.
The coldness within Caitlin melted. Heat surged violently through her veins.

‘No kissing? No dancing?' He growled. ‘You almost killed me.'

‘You want me to make it up to you?' She straddled his lap, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him. He put his hands firmly on her waist. She inhaled deeply as she felt his strong thighs shift beneath her. Definitely not tired.

The intensity of his expression didn't lessen. He looked fierce, almost angry.

‘What are you thinking about?' She cupped his jaw, running the pad of her thumb over his lips.

His tongue chased her thumb and he groaned as he caught a small lick. ‘That this holiday is unreal.'

Unreal? Was that good or bad? She chose not to ask, but to tease instead. They did tease so well. She pulled her hand free, dropping it to her hip. ‘Yet you offered to do some shifts at the hospital.'

His breathing hitched. ‘You heard that?'

‘Why do you want to work?'

He shrugged but she'd felt his initial flinch.

‘I might as well do something useful,' he said.

‘You do something useful all the rest of the time. You're allowed a holiday.' She walked her fingers up his chest. ‘You
need
a holiday. Otherwise you'll get burned out.'

‘Are you concerned for my welfare?' He was smiling, but there was an underlying note of
something
in the softly asked question. A warning? An edge. As if he was wondering what business was it of hers?

Time to back-pedal. ‘No,' she said. ‘My concern is that if you start putting all your energy into work, what's going to be left for me?'

Her words pulled a low laugh from him and he leaned forward, sliding his hand on her back to draw her closer. ‘You don't need to worry. I think I can still manage to turn you on.'

She pressed her palm to his chest, stopping him from bringing her close enough to kiss. ‘You only “think”?'

‘I promise to save enough energy to be able to satisfy you. That okay?'

‘It'll do. Just.' She wanted more than satisfaction for herself. She wanted his as well.

His hand clamped over hers, holding it over his head.

‘So it's okay for you to want to work, but not me?' he baited.

Was he bothered by the idea of her spending a couple days at the theatre? She tilted her chin high as she whispered, ‘You're easier to get off than I am.'

He laughed roughly. ‘You think?'

‘Oh, yeah.' She nodded seriously. ‘So easy.'

‘That right?' he asked slowly.

She saw the dare in his eyes. ‘You think you can hold out on me?'

‘I don't just “think”.'

‘Such a man. Have to have the challenge, don't you?'

‘That's right. We can't deny a dare.' He shifted beneath her. ‘And you women know it. That's why you dare us with just a look.'

‘Like this?' She inclined her head and coyly looked at him. ‘So you're going to try to resist?'

‘For as long as I can,' he confirmed, releasing her to stretch his arms out behind him on the mattress. He spread his feet a little further apart.

‘You're already hard,' she pointed out with a quick stroke.

‘Admittedly, this may be one dare I lose. But really, it's a win, win deal.'

‘True.' She shrugged. She liked a dare too. She wanted to turn him on to the point where control was impossible. She wanted to do that
fast
. Yet there was pleasure in slow. Pleasure in stringing things out for him. Making him ache for more—unable to stop himself moving to reach for more.

She slipped off his knee and knelt on the rug. She looked up at him, unable to stop her smile. Usually he led their dance, liked the dominant role. The chance to take him, tease him, thrilled her. Because while it might look as if she were bent low to serve him, she was really setting out to conquer.

It didn't take long. His hands fisted in the coverings. She felt the tension, the effort it cost him not to lose control as she caressed him. And she revelled as she sucked him hard and heard his pained groan.

‘Hell, Caitlin,' he gasped. ‘What are you doing to me?'

NINE

James leapt on
the phone to stop it screeching. Damn thing. He should have pulled the plug from the wall. ‘Yeah?' he whispered, glancing at Caitlin's motionless form.

‘You're still in town?'

James winced as he heard the reproach in his father's voice. Hell. Here he was having the time of his life in a no-holds-barred sexual marathon with a virtual stranger instead of going to see his family. How did he explain that? ‘Ah...things got delayed.'

‘Delayed for how long?'

‘I'm not sure. I could be called away any day.'

Caitlin's head lifted, her blue eyes sardonically skewered him. He put a finger over her lips.

‘Come home, James,' his father growled. ‘You should see your mother.'

James swallowed. He hated the disappointment he heard. But he deserved to feel bad. ‘I'll see what I can do.'

Caitlin didn't take her eyes off him the entire rest of the stilted phone call.

‘I don't want to go,' he said belligerently the second he replaced the receiver on the cradle.

‘Why not?'

‘You know, I haven't asked you for the exact specifics of what happened in London,' he snapped. ‘We're allowed some privacy.'

Caitlin immediately withdrew, slipping out of the bed. ‘I'm sorry,' she said quietly, making a dash for the bathroom. ‘I guess I was concerned. I apologise for overstepping the boundaries.' But only a pace away the anger hit and she wheeled back to face him. ‘But I'll just say this, James. I'd love to have a family who cared about me the way yours obviously cares about you,' she spat. ‘Be grateful for what you have.'

He stared at her, a stunned look on his face—followed by anger, followed by...
what?

She didn't know, but rigidly she stared him out. He looked so stunned—did no one pull him up on his bad behaviour?

He sighed and closed his eyes. A groaning growl emerged from somewhere deep in his gut. ‘You're right.'

She was.

‘I know you're right.' He kept his eyes shut. ‘I'm sorry I snapped. I was feeling guilty. I'll go see them.'

Would that make him feel less guilty? About
what
? ‘Great.'

He peeled one eye open and looked at her. ‘You have to come with me.'

‘What?'

The other eye snapped open and he sat up, the vital energy sizzling from him again. ‘It's the only way I'll go. You promised me unlimited sex for the time I was back in the country.'

‘Back in New York,' she clarified.

‘This is still New York,' he said carelessly. ‘The cottage is in the Hamptons. You don't come with me, I don't go.'

She stared at him as if he was loco. Which clearly he was. ‘I can't just turn up to your family home uninvited.'

‘I'm inviting you.' He flopped back onto the pillows.

No, that still wasn't okay. ‘Your family will get the wrong idea.'

He looked amused at her concern. ‘What—would it be so dreadful if they thought you were my girlfriend?'

She clamped her mouth shut for a second. Then breathed. ‘It wouldn't be honest.'

‘We're having sex round the clock. It's not entirely dishonest.'

‘We're having sexual relations, not a relationship,' she said crisply, ignoring his laughter. ‘And it's precisely because of that, that it's not a good idea if I come.'

‘Your coming is a very good idea. There's nothing I like more.'

‘Juvenile innuendo aside,' she said loftily, ‘I don't believe this is sensible.'

‘You didn't want sensible. You wanted fun. And I can promise you fun.'

She was diverted by that tone in his voice. The thread of promise. ‘Wicked fun?'

‘So wicked you might not be able to walk.'

She stared at him. The extent to which he turned her on with just a look and a laughing tease was appalling. She didn't want to have any nights without him. Not when she was having so few as it was. She didn't want to miss a minute. And besides all that, she was curious. She wanted to know more about him. Wanted to understand why it was he didn't want to go there without dragging a distraction with him.

He smiled. He knew he'd won. ‘I'll tell them you're a friend of George's staying here—which is true—and that you're coming to see some more of the US of A. I'll even get you a separate bedroom. They won't suspect a thing. I'm very good at sneaking around the house.'

‘I'll bet,' she said acidly.

He laughed. ‘We'll go for a night. Maybe two.'

‘How are we going to get there?' She frowned, all the practical problems hitting her at once.

He sat up and reached out for her wrist, drawing her back to sit on the bed beside him. ‘Well, I was planning on taking a car. If you can't cope with coming in a car I've paid for, you could try to hitch a ride. Or you could go by train and we'll pretend we don't know each other at all...'

She elbowed his ribs. ‘Smarty pants.'

‘If you want to be with me, you're going to have to put up with my making the travel arrangements. I'm very good at travel arrangements. It's a family thing.'

‘I still don't—'

‘Look,' he growled and pulled her closer, his hands shaping her curves. ‘I want you with me. That's the only way I'll go. If you want to see me make happy family time with my parents then you just have to suck it up. I'm not paying you for sex. You are under no obligation to do whatever with me even if I pay for your travel arrangements.'

She chuckled and clutched at his shoulders as he rolled above her. ‘You really can't forgive yourself for that mistake, can you?'

* * *

Three—lazy tourist fun but PDA banned—days later Caitlin put on the seat belt in the front passenger seat of a sleek Porsche convertible. The drive wasn't nearly long enough for her to master her stupid nerves. And why on earth hadn't he visited them sooner when it was less than a couple of hours' drive?

‘I thought you said this was a cottage?' Caitlin wheezed as they turned the corner and the house came into view. It wasn't like the kind of cottages they had back in England. This was a three-storeyed wooden mansion with separate accommodation wings, a car-turning bay, expansive lawns and formal gardens. And that was only what she could see from the roadside entrance. Heaven only knew what incredible features she'd find round the back—beach side.

‘I shouldn't be with you.' She twisted towards him as he slowed down on the gravel drive. ‘This is your family...your
mother
.' And a place that looked as if it would be featured in an episode of
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
. This was so out of her league.

‘Don't worry about it. She doesn't bite. I, on the other hand, just might have to.'

‘Stop it.' She elbowed his upper arm.

‘Only if you stop worrying. As I said, I'm telling them you're George's special friend.'

But George was there, next to his parents, waiting at the top step to meet them. Along with another guy she didn't recognise. Both younger men lifted their eyebrows, then their eyes narrowed and swift, sly smiles appeared.

‘Huh,' James grunted as he killed the engine. ‘It's a whole damn family reunion.' He sent Caitlin an apologetic grin. ‘We might have to improvise.'

Caitlin hung back but her awkward feeling was momentarily swamped by curiosity as she watched James walk quickly up to his mother and envelop her in a huge hug. In a second he'd turned back to her to introduce her to his parents and to his other brother, Jack.

Irene, James' mother, was petite, immaculately presented and had a beautiful, genuine smile.

‘It's so nice of you to welcome me here. I know it was unexpected,' Caitlin said, wishing she weren't blushing.

Or that James was so obviously amused by her blush.

‘It's a pleasure to have a friend of the boys,' said Irene.

Caitlin bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing at the woman's reference to James, George and Jack as ‘the boys'. They were giants next to her.

George winked at her. ‘How're you finding New York?'

‘Amazing. Thank you so much.' She smiled at him.

He nodded easily. ‘When I left London Hannah had disappeared off the scene—buried in her manuscript research. I've never met a more “method” actress.'

Yeah, Hannah preferred to live her characters' lives. ‘She gets very absorbed in her work,' Caitlin said, refusing to let anything other than pride and enthusiasm sound in her answer. She was aware of James' eyes on her as she answered. The disapproval she sensed from him about her lack of relationship with her sister was nothing short of ironic.

‘Your sister's an actress?' Irene asked with a bright smile. ‘You didn't want to act too?'

‘I did do some acting work for a while,' Caitlin fudged. ‘But I really don't have the talent or the drive. I'm happier backstage.'

‘Oh? What do you do?'

Caitlin fixed a smile to her face and answered the kindly meant questions, all the while thinking of the dynamics. The polite welcome mat was fully unrolled for her, but there was no hiding the absolute joy in Irene's eyes as she'd watched James walk up to her. No hiding the way she'd hugged him as if it had been forever since she'd been able to.

Just how long had it been? And why? Was it really only work that kept James from coming home more often?

‘I didn't know you were still here,' James said quietly to his twin as he watched Caitlin walk into the house with his mother. Jack had already gone ahead with his father, talking business no doubt.

‘I didn't know you were bringing Caitlin,' George replied.

‘She seemed lonely,' James said blandly. ‘I thought she might enjoy a change of scene.'

‘Nice to see you being social.' George's brows knitted together. ‘How are the two of you rubbing along in the condo if most of the rooms are out of action?'

‘We figured it out.' At George's sly smile, James rolled his eyes. ‘You know how capable we are of bunking down when necessary.'

‘When necessary.'

There was no fooling his twin. Not in many things.

‘You haven't been here in a while,' George added.

‘Mmm,' James mumbled a non-answer. ‘How're you getting on in London?'

‘Nearly done. I'll be glad to get home.'

‘You're not enjoying that party lifestyle you appear to be living?'

George chuckled. ‘I'm jaded, brother. All the pretty women blur together after a while.' He sent him a glance. ‘Whereas I assume you're still doing the celibate monk thing?'

‘Hard to find playmates the places I go to.'

‘But you're in New York for a few nights now, right? Easy pickings.' George's gaze wandered to Caitlin again. ‘Hard when you've got a roommate cramping your style though I guess.'

‘Guess so.'

‘But then she's a very pretty roommate.'

James wasn't biting. He
refused
to bite.

‘I've always thought she was the prettier of the two,' George added.

‘You of all people should know it's not nice to compare. Especially siblings.'

George laughed. ‘Good deflection, but don't think I don't have eyes.'

James tensed. ‘Look all you want.'

‘But don't touch?'

James turned to face his brother head on. George wasn't the right guy for Caitlin. Then again, nor was James. ‘Don't,' he said softly. ‘Don't say anything, don't do anything...just leave her.'
Leave her to me.

George mock-punched his shoulder. ‘I'm your brother. Sometimes it seems like you forget that.'

James looked into the eyes almost as dark as his own. ‘I never forget.'

‘Then don't be such a stranger.'

* * *

Caitlin luxuriated in the shower, washing off the travel in the massive en suite. In fact the whole house was massive. The beachfront mansion had a small movie theatre, a bar, a spa and pool that overlooked their own private stretch of beach. It was unbelievably beautiful. But it wasn't all perfect show home. It was warm, with pictures of the family all around, and as she'd been given the tour by his mother Caitlin couldn't help but wonder why on earth James didn't want to be here.

She'd requested some time to take a shower before dinner, deliberately giving James some space to have time alone with his family. At the knock on her door, she wondered if she'd taken too long. But it was him—telling her that dinner would be in another half-hour.

‘What have you been doing?' She stared at him. He was covered with a sheen of sweat and had that edgy gleam in his eye.

‘Playing tennis,' he answered briefly, pacing away from her already. ‘Half an hour 'til dinner, okay?'

She watched him walk down the hall, all popping muscles and curled-up fingers. What was with the hard-out tennis tournament within ten minutes of arriving? Wasn't this a place to relax and catch up with his family? But he seemed to be as restless as he'd been in those first couple of days in New York—until he'd calmed down a touch and managed to actually sit still for a few minutes at a time. Then again, maybe that was how he and his brothers bonded? With their own mini-Olympics.

But if that was the case, why did he still look bothered?

‘We eat outside in summer, Caitlin.' James' mum smiled at her when she arrived in the lounge. ‘You don't mind?'

James knew Caitlin wasn't going to mind. The wooden deck overlooked the pool and the beach—an unlimited view to the horizon. And Caitlin did like a nice view.

At dinner James focused on his food, but his appetite had taken a hike hours ago—the second he'd pulled into the driveway. He regretted coming here already. He felt Caitlin glance at him, knew she noticed his silence. But he wasn't the only quiet one: Jack was abnormally preoccupied tonight. James had seen him sneaking way too many looks at his mobile phone even for a workaholic like Jack. Something was on—the business, most likely.