California Girl (29 page)

She curled up beside him until he couldn’t resist putting an
arm around her and tucking her head against his shoulder. She hummed happily
under her breath and continued her gentle, circular rubbing.

“What is the most restful place you can think of?” she
asked.

Her bed. After sex. But he might not ever see that again, so
he thumbed through his memories to make her happy. He couldn’t remember too
many restful ones. Studying late at night? The lab at midnight when there was
no one there to bother him?

Mame’s kitchen before his brothers woke up? She would warm
up a biscuit just for him, and he’d take it out on the porch to watch the sun
rise before he set out on his paper route.

Watching Alys play with Purple on a sunny playground. Alys
laughing and leaping to pick a leaf off a tree. Alys.

“A fishing boat,” he said, giving her the expected response.

She ran her fingers through his hair, stroking his brow.
“Imagine the fishing boat bobbing on blue waters, dawn sparkling like diamonds
on the waves.”

He liked that picture if he included Alys in the boat. He
could see her turning her face to the sun, lifting her arms to embrace the day.
But she would be wearing a swimsuit, and his mind’s eyes drifted downward to
her breasts, and he wasn’t very relaxed anymore.

“Focus on just one small part of the image. Is there a
branch dangling over the water? A leaf drifting back and forth? Do you feel the
waves bobbing up and down?”

He’d focused all right. He could see her breasts bobbing up
and down with the waves. He mentally rearranged his image to lay his head in
her lap. But then he had to close his mental eyes, too, or he’d be looking up
at her breasts instead of down.

“This isn’t working,” he complained.

“No, not yet. Give it time. Have you ever been snorkeling? I
hear watching the fish float is restful. Would that work?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been.” In some ways, his life had
been as limited as hers. He hadn’t climbed any mountains, swam any seas. He
ought to see what he’d been missing.

“Does your boat have a comfortable seat? Can you tilt it
back and feel the sun beating down on your hair?” Her fingers continued their
rhythmic stroking.

Focus, Roth
. “Okay, I’m leaning back,
watching a butterfly over the water.” He was lying in her lap, leaning back,
smelling that exotic scent she’d worn the night they’d first made love. If
there was a butterfly in this picture, he wasn’t seeing it, but she didn’t have
to know his real space.

“Good.” She spoke softly, in rhythm with her fingers. “Focus
on the butterfly. See the colors on his wings. Are they blue?”

“Red.” He pictured the kind of swimsuit Alys might wear.
“No, orange, with gold stripes. And black spots.”

Amusement laced her voice. “Where does the butterfly land?
On a flower? A tree branch? Your finger?”

His lap. Wrong answer. His erection rose against his zipper.
If Alys was paying attention, no wonder she was laughing. Elliot fought his
rampaging libido back down again and tried to picture butterflies and flowers.
They weren’t working any better than fish.

“Think about a heartbeat,” she suggested, massaging his
temples.

How the hell was she reaching his temples? He didn’t want to
think about it. He was thinking about heartbeats—beneath an orange swimsuit
with full breasts spilling over the top. “Heartbeat,” he murmured agreeably.

“Just close your eyes and listen to the beat. It’s slow, in
time to the gentle drift of the butterfly wings, up and down.”

Up and down—with her breathing. He could feel Alys
breathing. He steadied, concentrating on matching his heartbeat to hers. “In
and out,” he murmured hoarsely. “Up and down.”

“Back and forth?” she asked dryly, in not quite the same
voice as earlier.

“Yeah, that, too.” Grinning, realizing they were on the same
wavelength even when he wasn’t telling her where his mind was, he continued
picturing heartbeats and bobbing waters. He was beginning to like this boat.

“Relax now. Your little storm is over. No more up and down.
Just peace, and a gentle wave, lifting, lowering, rocking ever so slightly.
You’re completely relaxed. Soft breezes caress your brow. You’re warm,
satiated.”

Kind of hard to be satiated when he had a stiff one poking
at his pants, but he liked the warm, soft breezes part. He should take up fishing—in
warm waters. Or skinny-dipping. Now there’s an extracurricular activity he
could enjoy. He could see Alys running into the waves, laughing, her bare
breasts bobbing up and down, up and down.

“If you grin any wider, you’ll crack your face.”

The massaging fingers slapped his cheeks. Before he could
come back from the Hawaiian lagoon and blue waters, agile fingers had his fly
unzipped. She was good. She was real good.

She was even better when her lithe tongue stroked his
straining erection.

He shouted something incomprehensible and grabbed her hair.
Fighting the urge to just lie there and let it happen, Elliot flipped her over
on her back, climbed on top, and hungrily attacked her mouth.

Alys instantly went slack, flinging her arms to either side,
and closing her mouth.

Elliot sat up and stared at her in confusion. “Why the hell
did you stop?”

“Because I’m the one in control here.” She tucked her hands
behind her head and smiled up at him—an evil gamine messing with his mind.

He eyed her skeptically. “You won’t be once I get started.” But
he’d have to pry off her sweater and sweatshirt, then wiggle her out of her
jeans. He didn’t want an uncooperative woman.

“We’re not getting started until you tell me I’m the one in
command,” she warned. “We’re practicing relaxation techniques and taking charge
is not one of them.”

“Yeah,
it is,” he growled, flinging himself back down against the lousy mattress. “I
feel a
lot
better when I’m in control.”

“You
feel a lot better after you’ve
lost
control,” she reminded him.
“Think about it, and tell me when you’re ready to leave it to me.”

She lay there beside him, looking up at the ceiling as if
they weren’t both raging out of control. Or he was, at least. He didn’t think
she was as calm as she looked—until she stretched and then consciously set her
feet slightly apart, turned her palms upward at her sides, and took several
deep breaths. He could swear he saw her visibly relaxing one part at a time,
from shoulders down to toes. She had her eyes closed and didn’t seem to notice
when he leaned over her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She didn’t respond but continued taking even breaths,
becoming one with the sagging soft mattress. She looked so blissful, he was
jealous.

He debated fastening his pants again and saying to hell with
it. Maybe he could chop a few trees or jog to the highway and back. But he’d
have to be a real stupid chump to give up when temptation lay right there at
hand, just begging to be taken.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m relaxed after I’ve lost control.
But sex is not always available, so you’re not teaching me anything useful.” He
lay back down and didn’t look at her. She was probably already asleep.

“But
giving up control
before
sex is new, isn’t it?” She
popped up as if she hadn’t become one with the mattress. “Find your fishing
boat,” she commanded.

“Slave driver.” But he did as she said, re-creating the
mental image, except this time he gave himself a yacht and he was lying on a
big air mattress on the deck.

And in this new picture she was massaging his chest. While
kneeling over him.

“You are at one with the boat and the sea and the air,” she
told him.

He was at one with anything she told him as long as she was
removing her jeans and sweater. Elliot peeked to be certain that’s what she was
doing. He didn’t like surprises.

“You’re peeking.” She shimmied back into the sweater she was
in the process of removing.

Elliot closed his eyes. “No, I’m not.” She’d straddled his
legs but she still wore jeans, to his disappointment.

“I am the wind and the sun,” she informed him. “You cannot
command me. I will shine and make you warm, if you let me. Or I’ll freeze you
and blow you off course if you insist on taking over. Just lie there and let me
take care of you.”

He thought taking care of him might be the last thing she
needed to be doing, but he could correct her impression another time. Right
now, he really, really wanted whatever she thought she was doing. The day had
left a bad taste in his mouth and a pain in his heart and he wanted her to make
it all go away. If this was how she chose to do it, he could try.

“Very good,” she said approvingly when he closed his eyes
and attempted to relax.

After that, he just let it happen. He rocked on his yacht in
his mind while she removed their clothing and massaged his chest. He sunbathed
in her warmth even though the cabin was heated only by an old woodstove. He
muffled a shout when her “wind” blew salt water over his arousal and brought
him to the brink of climax.

But then she whispered, “I’m here,” and sank down on him.

She was as wet and aroused as he was. Elliot grabbed her
hips, positioned her where he could do the most good, and pumped into her until
she cried out in the same frenetic ecstasy as he achieved.

In the aftermath, she tumbled on top of his chest, her
silken hair brushing his chin, and he held her against him, letting their
hearts slow to a matching rhythm.

“If I get any more relaxed, this ship will sail off into the
sunset without a captain,” he murmured.

“Good.” Pulling the covers over them, Alys curled at his
side, and they sailed off to the land of Nod.

Alys fastened the center seat belt of the old pickup
around Lucia’s waist and settled Purple into the child’s lap. “Hold on to the
kitty, if you can, or we’ll have to leave her here,” she murmured. “We only
have a few more hours to go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucia piped. “Will we see Dulce?”

Still amazed to hear the child speak, Alys smiled down at
her. “I certainly hope so. And your grandmother.”

Elliot threw their luggage into the battered truck bed,
protected by an old camper top. Purple’s cage joined it, but Alys had overruled
putting the kitten back there. She let Elliot tie the orchid near the back
window, but the cat would be miserable in the cold.

The weather had already warmed up enough to melt the ice of
yesterday. Another night of just the two of them in that cabin, and she would
never strike out on her own.

Yesterday, Elliot had actually let her take charge. A
medical doctor with a national reputation, and he’d listened to her silly
relaxation techniques. And they’d worked! He hadn’t rubbed his chest once since
then. And they’d both slept like babies all night. After napping half the day.
Maybe they’d both needed to unwind.

Of course, the kind of unwinding they’d practiced when they
weren’t sleeping might have a lot to do with it. Elliot had a fertile
imagination once he indulged it. After his Hawaiian fantasy with her as a hula
dancer and him as a surfing champion, she probably didn’t have to ever bother
visiting the islands. They’d never compare.

She’d never laughed so hard in her life. Which was why she
had to leave him the instant they hit Albuquerque.

Watching him tuck Lucia’s red backpack into the camper, Alys
heaved a sigh and climbed into the cab. Lucia had her doll and her camera in
the seat beside her. Alys hoped that was enough to keep her entertained for the
morning. If she thought about the mundane, she wouldn’t have to break her heart
thinking about leaving all this behind. It wasn’t as if she could spend her
life riding around in a pickup with someone else’s child and Doc Nice, after
all. Life went on.

Elliot slid behind the wheel, and they all waved at Sam and
Kaya as he backed the truck out of the drive. Sam had ordered one of his hired
hands to follow them into Las Vegas to be safe, and the other truck fell in
behind them as they rattled up the dirt road to the highway.

“We should check my voice mail once we have cell reception
again. If Mame’s been trying to reach us, she’ll be worrying,” Elliot said,
hanging onto the bouncing steering wheel.

While Purple roamed from lap to lap and Lucia played with her
doll, Alys checked the rearview mirror. The only other vehicle on the empty
highway belonged to Sam’s hired hand.

Last night had been moments outside of time. Today, they
were back in the real world. “Maybe we should be worrying about Mame. Do you
think the trucks have been following her? Should we call the police?”

“I want to talk to Mame first,” he said grimly. “I think we
might be missing a few details.”

Knowing
his aunt, Alys was inclined to agree. She didn’t want to think Mame had
actually
kidnapped
Lucia. She’d rather believe
Lucia had been rescued. The authorities might not concur.

On the outskirts of the small New Mexican town of Las Vegas,
Sam’s employee beeped his horn and pulled into a parking lot. They waved
farewell, and Alys checked the cell phone Elliot had slid into the slot where a
tape player should have been. “We have reception. I don’t know how to check
your messages.”

Kaya had fed them a huge farm breakfast even Elliot had
eaten, so they didn’t need to stop for food. But traveling with a child and a
cat required rest rooms and exercise time. He pulled into a shopping center
parking lot, and Alys snapped on Purple’s leash while Elliot checked his voice
mail.

“It’s Mame!” He listened intently to his phone while Alys
froze, watching his expression. “She’s fine. She expected to meet us last night
in Santa Fe. She’s worried about us.”

Alys waited, her stomach clenching as he frowned, continued
listening, then snapped off the phone. “What? What else did she say?”