Her Passionate Plan B (13 page)

“Try my love life.”

Her hands froze in the act of opening a bottle of antacid. “No thanks.”

“Daisy, let's cut to the chase, shall we? Dancing around an issue is stressful, in case you haven't noticed.”

“Are we dancing?”

“You wanna dance?”

She looked at the blue bottle she was holding, wondering if her own nerves could get any tighter. “Do you?” she whispered.

“With you? I'll dance as long as it takes, but right now I can think of something else I'd much rather do.”

He stood there, looking much the way he had the first
time she'd ever seen him. Feet planted apart, thumbs hooked under his low waistband so that his fingers were angled toward his fly. He looked tired, even pale, but the tiredness in no way affected the intensity of his eyes.

I came, I saw, so what the hell—I conquered.

He opened his arms and Daisy walked into them. In a cold, empty beach castle, with no music other than the muted roar of the nearby surf, he began to sway. Daisy swayed with him, inhaling the aphrodisiac of leather, healthy male skin and whatever soap he'd last bathed with—something green and piney. Her breathing was rapidly becoming erratic, but then, so was his.

“The bed's not made,” he said, his voice registering on her sensitized body the way it had from the first.

“Is there a blanket?”

“Will we need one?”

“Probably not,” she murmured, making no move to resist as he led her toward a king-size bed with a view of the ocean that neither of them was in any condition to appreciate.

Naked in seconds, she dived under the quilted spread and watched as he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his black flannel shirt and unfastened his fly. “Don't forget your boots,” she reminded him.

She snickered. He looked chagrined for a moment, then he laughed. “Be a hell of a time to trip and break a leg.”

“Don't you dare,” she whispered as he stripped off the last of his clothes and came down beside her.

“Later let's try out the hot tub,” he said as he lifted and swung her over his thighs. “It's been a long day. You care to do the honors?”

“Oh, my…”

Daisy did the honors—at least, it started out that way. In the rough-and-tumble tangle of bare limbs that followed, with panting laughter interspersed with mind-blowing pleasure, neither of them could find the energy to try the hot tub.

Kell had a few scars—old injuries and surgeries from his playing days. One on his back that occasionally gave him trouble even now. Daisy explored them all, first with her fingertips, then with her lips. She didn't ask questions about them, which was a good thing, because he wasn't sure he could have spoken if his life had depended on it.

He sucked in his breath as she grew bolder. For a woman who was supposed to know all about anatomy, she was surprisingly awkward. Touchingly, endearingly awkward. When she leaned over to kiss her way down his throbbing body, he nearly lost it.

Back, don't give out on me now.

And then it was his turn. Leaning over her, he took it slow and easy, touching, exploring—finding and exploiting all the secret places on her body that set her off, made her close her eyes and moan. She was hot and wet and tight, and that alone nearly catapulted him over the edge. Carefully he positioned himself and eased inside her. Eyes closed, fists knotted, he braced himself to hold out as long as it took to bring her along with him.

It was going to be a close race. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew. She clutched his shoulders and whimpered sounds of protest.

He thrust again, shaken to his very depths by the avalanche that threatened to consume him. Trembling, he
lowered his mouth to taste her lips again. Sweet, sweet addictive…

He willed himself to hold back—not rush her. But when he felt her tighten around him, any chance of holding back fled. They were in the race together from start to finish. And in this particular race, there were no losers.

 

A few hours later hunger drove them on a pilgrimage to locate the kitchen. “My friend had the heat turned on and the refrigerator stocked. I guess he didn't tell the rental agency to have the bed made up, not knowing how many people would be staying here with me.”

“You have a friend here at the beach?”

“Actually, he lives in D.C. now, but he owns a few cottages between here and there.”

“Nice friends.”

“Yep.”

They had made the bed together sometime between the second and the third time they'd made love. Afterward they had showered together, which had taken another half hour. Kell had insisted on covering every inch of her body with suds, then massaging them into her skin.

“Can't afford to miss a place,” he'd rumbled, on his knees in the eight-foot-square shower stall as he traced a path from her toes to her inner thigh. “Always pays to work the kinks out after a game. Trainer told me that my first year in the minors.”

“Not like this, I hope.” Leaning against the tile wall, she'd had trouble breathing, much less speaking. “Ke-
ell?
” Her voice ended in a squeak as his hands toyed with her damp curls, then slipped inside her.

This time he braced himself in the corner and lifted her until she was clutching his shoulders, then he lowered her slowly until he was inside her. She bit his shoulder, trying not to cry out. They were both trembling with the effort to make it last, but there was no holding back.

It was a wonder they hadn't slipped and broken something. Moments later, Kell slowly settled with her still on his lap.

The scent of ginger lilies and sex permeated the air as the water began to grow cooler. Evidently, not even a million-dollar cottage had an endless supply of hot water.

“Did we ever get around to talking?” Daisy murmured now as she filled the coffeemaker.

“We never got around to a lot of things, but we will. I've got this place for two weeks. If it takes any longer than that, we might have to move somewhere else, but I'm not leaving until you promise…”

“Until I promise what?” Her heart lodged in her throat.

Don't be a fool—don't get your hopes up. Just because he came back for his car…

“That you'll marry me. That you could learn to love me enough to pack up and leave your friends and your home and whatever else you've got around here. That you—”

Daisy placed a finger over his lips, but there was no escaping his eyes. They were openly pleading. “Oh, Kell—oh, yes!”

“Yes what?” he whispered when she moved her hand so that she was cupping his face. Her thumb traced the shallow crease in his chin. He needed a shave, either that or he needed to let his beard grow out.

“With or without, I'll love you,” she said, feeling
giddy with relief and sore in places that had never been sore before.

“With or without what?” he asked cautiously.

“Your beard. Whatever. Kell, don't you know how much I love you? Couldn't you tell?”

“I hoped. I wasn't sure. Love's not something I've had any experience with. If you want to know the truth, I was afraid I'd screw up.”

“You did. Next time you walk out on me, at least wake me up and tell me you're going so I can ask questions if I want to.”

So then he told her about Clarice and Moxie, and about a few other kids and the sporting goods shop in town where he trained them, and the baseball camp he was building on a ranch out in the panhandle where he hoped to retire in a few years and concentrate on the ball camp.

By the time he finished, they were lying in bed sharing turkey, cheese, bacon and apple sandwiches and a quart of full-fat milk.

“If all those boys are going to be living out there—at the ranch, I mean—then it seems to me you need a nurse in residence.”

“Can you do that? Practice in another state, I mean?”

She set her plate on the bedside table, took his and stacked it on top, then curled into his arms again. “I expect it can be arranged,” she murmured. “As long as I have to keep you from ruining your digestive system, I think I can manage to look after a few children, mop up their bloody noses and doctor their cuts and bruises.”

He could have told her it might be more than that, but he figured she would learn soon enough.

Sighing, she stroked his naked chest. Neither of them
was wearing any clothes. And while it wasn't exactly a new experience for Kell, he had a feeling making sandwiches, checking out the wine supply and the view, all without a stitch on, had been a first for Daisy.

Just as his eyes began to close, she twisted a curl of chest hair around her finger and whispered, “You sleepy?”

His body's response was answer enough.

They looked at each other and both started laughing.

Hey, Mom—Dad—I think I know why you two were laughing….