Echoes From The Past (Women of Character) (14 page)

He put his hands up to push hers
away. Their fingers tangled. Of their own volition, his fingers curled around
hers, holding them captive, squeezing. He stared at her intently, sending a
silent message that he was serious.

Christie watched him. Garrett
could almost feel the quick, shallow breaths she drew into her lungs. He heard
the sudden intake of her breath as he settled one hand at the small of her
back. She arched against him, her breasts touching his chest, her eyes half
closing.

He groaned. For his own curiosity,
for this momentary insanity, he would let her get close to him. He needed to be
close to her. It felt as natural as breathing.

She dropped her head back and
looked at him through half-closed lids. Garrett tensed as she ran her tongue
ran over her lips. He needed to taste those lips.

"Christie." He cupped
her face, his calloused hands gentle on her cheeks. With one hand he cradled
the nape of her neck. Her skin felt so soft, so warm, her bones fragile under
the skin. He lowered his head and touched her mouth. The taste and texture of
Christie wound through him, insidious, alarming in its subtlety. Any lingering
intentions to step back fled. He wanted this moment and the consequences be
damned.

Slowly, provocatively, he traced
her lips with his tongue. Christie reciprocated, then ran her tongue lightly
along the rim of his teeth. Her softness, her willingness to be wooed drew him
in further, making him ignore the warnings in his head.

Heat raced across him, swirling
around them as the sounds of the night faded away. It was only he and Christie.
Garrett moved closer, then gripped her hips and pulled her tightly against him.
The groan in his chest rumbled, releasing itself on the night air.

Raw need filled him, the desire to
be close to a woman. The desire to feel a woman's soft skin against his own.

Her lashes fluttered and her eyes
opened. Garrett felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Emotion, unspoken want
tugged at him. For a moment, he thought he would drown in those eyes. Slowly,
he released the breath he was holding and drew in several more. Christie
blinked as if she had trouble focusing. Her silky dark brows drew together as
she studied him curiously. He knew the moment she regained control of her
breathing, her senses. The slightly glazed look in her eyes faded, gave way to
that bit of wariness that always seemed to lurk there.

He looked away from her mouth,
clenched his teeth, glad of the shadows around them. Damn! He didn’t need to
complicate his life by acting on a damned impulse.

Garrett stepped back and moved to
the edge of the terrace. Somewhere, a wild dog howled. It was a familiar sound,
but tonight, it sounded so lonely, so desperate. He shoved his hands in his
pockets, aware of his own brand of desperation.

He stared somberly out into the
night. "Christ, I'm about to apologize again." Garrett knew the
gently rolling hills were out there but the darkness hid them from view.
"Flings, affairs -- they’re not my style." He laughed. "Hell, I
don’t have a style. Randy has a style." Randy had dated more women than
most, while he was just a rancher with a young daughter trying to make a decent
living. He’d learned during his brief marriage he didn’t know squat about
women.

"Why apologize?" she
asked. "I helped the matter along."

"Yeah, well. . ." He
stopped. "I don’t make a practice of necking with my employees out on the
terrace." He needed to say those words baldly. He needed to shock her to
create some breathing distance between them.

He had to put what had happened in
stark black and white terms, bring it into sharp focus so it would lose some of
its potency. He wanted to dispel that damnable sense of magic taking place.
Magic and miracles were illusions, the stuff of dreams. His boots were firmly
on the ground. A failed marriage and the responsibility of an eight year old
kept you on terra firma.

"So, I guess I’m the first
employee to earn that honor?" she asked dryly.

Garrett turned quickly. He’d
expected anger, maybe chagrin. Not humor.

With one brow raised, she
continued calmly, "I’m the first employee that you’ve honored by necking
out here on the terrace?"

"This isn’t a joke," he
bit out, surprised by the slight smile curving her lips. He crushed the urge to
yank her close and kiss her again.

"No, it’s not. It’s mutual
attraction between two people." Her voice grew passionate. "Don’t try
to take that away, Garrett. One thing I’ve learned is life’s too short to waste
it on regrets over what we should have done."

Grimly, he thought of Judith and
their married life.

"It gets too short when you
follow one impulse after another. Ultimately the impulses break your life
apart. They can bring you to the edge of bankruptcy and almost cost you everything
you’ve worked so hard for." He clenched his jaw.

She studied his face. "You're
speaking from experience."

"Whatever’s between us
--" He ignored the disappointment that flared in her eyes. "We’re too
different to think of pursuing a relationship. You’re Judith’s sister and
leaving in a few weeks. Why pursue something that doesn’t have a snowball’s
chance in hell of surviving?" Would she stay if he asked her? Garrett
discarded that notion. Kim would be ready to return to her job and Christie
would have to leave.

"Maybe you’re right. Let’s
pretend this never happened," she said briskly, crossing her arms.
"I’m game if you are."

He felt irritated that she agreed
so easily.

Christie took several steps away
from him. "I was wondering what plans you have for the apartment over the
barn?" she said in a sudden change of topic.

Garrett didn’t answer right away,
trying to mentally switch gears. "I’m not in any rush to decide.
Eventually I plan to make it into another office, but that’s probably a year
down the road."

"Will you rent it to me while
I’m here? You could think of it as way to get me out of your hair. You and
Hannah would have the house back to yourselves. You’ve been really generous to
allow me to live here, but I’d feel more comfortable knowing I wasn’t in the
way."

Garrett knew she was right to put
distance between them, but he felt reluctant to agree, which was contrary to
his earlier rejection of her closeness. "You’re only going to be here for
another few weeks," he said, reminding himself also of that fact. It was
what she had agreed to from the beginning, but it felt like such a short time
now.

"True, but I think living so
closely creates tension."

He agreed but why did he feel so
reluctant, then?

"I know you were worried
about Hannah’s reaction to having me in the house, but she’s really a great
kid. I know how tough it can be, being mother and father all rolled into
one."

Garrett studied the sincerity in
her face. "Then you can understand why I worry about Hannah." He
pushed a hand through his hair.

Her smile and the caring in her
face invited him to confide, but Garrett rejected the notion. He would handle
his daughter’s problems. He cleared his throat. "Now," he said
brusquely, "about that apartment, it’s pretty rough. There isn’t even any
carpet."

"That won’t bother me at
all."

"There’s no substantial heat
when the nights get cold."

"I’ll use a blanket."

"Well, it is vacant. You’re
welcome to it."

"Wonderful. Can I make the
move this weekend?"

"You don’t waste time, do
you? I’ll see what I can do."

Her smile appeared strained.

"Good night, Garrett."

Garrett forced himself to keep
still. "See you tomorrow." He wanted nothing more in that moment than
to reach for her again. He watched her walk back through the terrace doors, her
bare feet noiseless on floor, and he suddenly felt empty inside, as if he’d let
something precious slip away. Foolish. Nothing had slipped away. He’d sent her
away.

Several hours later Christie
skirted a small table on her way to Hannah’s room. It was probably unnecessary,
but she felt the need to check on her niece. It kept running through her head
that her sister’s illness had started out with cold-like symptoms also. What
most people saw as a simple cold, she had learned to fear something worse. It was
a deeply ingrained fear.

The door to Garrett’s room stood
slightly ajar and the room was dark. She folded her arms around herself,
suddenly conscious of her thin nightshirt. The cotton reached the tops of her
knees, so it was perfectly decent. Quickly, she slipped past his door and then
the next door down the hall was Hannah’s room. Silently she entered the room
and made her way to the bed.

The room was softly lit by a
night-light, and she could see Hannah as she lay sleeping in her unique pumpkin
bed with its gold painted wheels.

A soft thumping drew her
attention. Bo Peep lay at the foot of the bed, wagging her tail against the
floor. The dog’s eyes gleamed an eerie gold in the meager light. Christie spoke
softly to the dog and gently fondled her head as she slipped by her.

Christie touched Hannah’s forehead
with her fingertips. Her skin felt cool and her breathing sounded normal.
Feeling reassured, realizing she’d worried needlessly she pulled the covers up
to Hannah’s chest.

Christie noticed the framed
picture on Hannah’s bedside table and she lifted the picture. She could make
out the faces in the glow of the night light. Hannah, Garrett and a dark blond
woman with eyes like her sister Ellen. Her memories of Judith were vague, but
Christie knew this had to be her. Her breath caught as emotion tightened a band
around her chest. Judith.

The picture showed Garrett beside
Judith while Hannah stood in front of him. There was something very possessive
about the way his arm rested across Judith’s shoulders.

Slowly, Christie replaced the
picture. She backed away from the bed and stumbled back against something. She
threw her hand back and it slid down a warm leg. Quickly, she pulled her hand
back and spun around. Garrett stood behind her. His big hands gripped her arms.

"Why are you in here?"
Garrett’s warm breath hit her cheek. A shiver ran down her back where she could
feel the heat of his chest.

"Garrett." In the meager
light she saw he wore only boxer shorts. His upper torso was tantalizingly
close and somehow her hand had come to rest against his chest. She became aware
of soft chest hair and flexing muscles. Her breathing quickened and with
determination she stepped around him and walked across the room to the door.
Once out in the hallway she turned and he was right behind her.

"I saw the picture of
Judith."

Garrett’s eyes narrowed and he
glanced back toward Hannah’s room.

"I didn’t mean to snoop. But
it was there." She swallowed. "She looks like Ellen."

"Why were you in my
daughter’s room?"

One look at his hard face reminded
Christie she was walking around in her sleepwear. She tried not to think about
his hard, almost naked body so close to her. Sexual awareness of him made her
heart pound and she stared at his boxer shorts again. She rubbed her palms
together and sighed, knowing nothing less than the truth would do. "I
wanted to check on Hannah. I was worried about her cold."

He looked surprised, then
skeptical. "She'll be fine in the morning."

"I know, I know, but
sometimes colds escalate into something worse, or other symptoms mask
themselves as colds. . ." she let her voice trail off. "I'll just go
to bed. Good night. See you in the morning." She knew she was talking way
too fast but something was happening inside, making her feel all shivery and
shaky. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this sexual need. In truth it had never
hit her so hard. At least, not when she felt so vulnerable, and . . . needy.

"Are you sure you weren’t
looking for my room?"

Feeling a sense of shock, Christie
said, "Of course not! And I do know which room is yours. I believe you
made it clear earlier you don’t want to get involved. You’re right, of course.
Why get involved when we’re so very different?"

When his hands came down on her
shoulders Christie stiffened. If she tilted her head back she could skim his
throat with her lips.

His thumbs moved in a circular
motion. Didn’t he know what that touch did to her insides. . . that the scent
of him was warm in her nostrils? She wanted to lean a bit closer and forget
everything. She groaned. "You make me want things I can’t have."
Christie was mortified to hear the words out loud.

Garrett let out a harsh breath.
"Damn, I want to forget everything I said earlier."

She sucked in a startled breath.
She had to get out of here before she did something they would both regret,
like follow her thoughts with action.

"I better go to bed."
How lame. Christie closed her eyes.

"Yeah, bed," he said,
not moving, not releasing her. Seconds passed; thick, waiting, excruciating.
"Go to bed, Christie." He sounded angry.

"Yes. G-good night." She
spun around and rushed blindly forward, bumping against the small table she’d
avoided earlier. Together, they reached for the table as it rocked sideways.
Garrett's hand brushed against her leg. Christie drew in a startled breath as
heat raced to her stomach.

"Sorry," he muttered,
then added, "Ah, hell, I’m not."

Despite the fierceness of his
voice, the hand that reached to cup the side of her face was gentle. With a
groan, Garrett dipped his head toward her. His mouth took possession, his
tongue gliding over hers. She reciprocated and fire exploded in her chest. She
wanted only to breathe in his scent and experience the hardness of his body;
mint toothpaste and the scent that was all his. She savored his taste as she
explored his mouth with lips and tongue.