MM02 - Until Morning Comes (16 page)

“Colter. What do you mean, sneaking up on me?”

“I didn't sneak, I walked.”

“What in the world are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“I'm a guest. Family connections, you know.”

“Ahh, yes. Now I remember. Your brother is an old friend of the Donovans.”

“Right.”

“Since you're his guest, I'm surprised you didn't chat with Jim Roman last night.”

“Was that Jim? We'd only met over the phone.” It was hard to make her eyes look wide and innocent when each one was holding about two pounds of cold cream. But she tried.

“Yes. He's my best friend—or was until today.”

“Oh?”

Colter was beginning to enjoy this encounter immensely. Jo Beth had always been refreshing, but she'd never been more delightful than when she was trying to play innocent. And it was certainly an act. Two meetings in two days were more than chance. He suspected that Fate was getting a hefty push from Jim Roman.

Colter leaned against the wall and relaxed. He hadn't felt so relaxed since he'd left the White Mountains.

“You're cute with a shiny face, Jo.”

She put both hands on her cheeks and they came away slick. “Wrinkle cream. I was going to try to pass it off as the glow of youth, but I figured you'd know better.”

She lifted the sheet higher around her neck to cover her gown. In the process, she uncovered her feet.

Colter looked down at her socks and smiled. “Are you cold?”

At that very minute she was burning up, but she didn't tell him so.

“Would you believe pink fuzzy feet?” He chuckled and she grinned. “October through April I wear socks to bed. If my feet are warm, I feel warm all over.”

“I can think of better ways to keep warm in bed, Jo.”

“I can too, Colter.”

They studied each other, wary now. His fingers tightened on his polish rag and hers tightened on the sheet. His need was so urgent that he had to work hard to keep from walking across the small cabin and lowering her to the bunk. A small shred of nobility saved him.

“I should get back to work. I promised Jim I'd polish his brass.”

“Then I’ll try to keep out of your way. I don't want to bother you.”

“You don't want to bother me?” He crossed the cabin in three quick strides. With one hand he smoothed her tumbled hair away from her face. “You don't want to bother me, Jo?” he asked again, softly. “Knowing you're on the same planet bothers me. Having you in San Francisco disturbs me.” With his fingers woven into her hair, his hand caressed her scalp. “Being in the same cabin with you is almost more than I can bear.”

She closed her eyes. This wasn't the way the game was supposed to work, but, ahhh, it felt so good. She'd enjoy his touch a while longer, and then she'd resume her role.

His hand left her hair and roamed down the side of her face. Then he traced the delicate bone structure along her jaw.

“You are wonderfully and beautifully made, Jo Beth McGill.”

Suddenly he released her. She sank onto the bunk, still holding the sheet high around her neck. With her eyes closed, she felt rather than saw him leave. Slowly, she unclenched her hands. The sheet slid onto her lap.

She took a deep breath. It was time to get out of her stupor. She'd never get Colter Gray Wolf by being easy.

“I had a patient once who wore a Winnie-the-Pooh gown.”

Jo Beth's eyes snapped open. Colter was leaning against the door, his face unreadable as he watched her.

“I thought you had gone.”

Still watching her, he continued as if she hadn't spoken. “She was only twelve.”

Jo Beth put her hand over the design on the front of her cotton flannel gown and unconsciously rubbed Pooh Bear's head.

“I've had this gown for years. Andrew gave it to me when I was in the hospital with pneumonia. He said Pooh Bear would make me feel secure and loved.”

“Does he?”

“No. He does nothing except cover me and keep me warm.” She met his gaze.

Colter didn't speak for a long while. She could hardly breathe. She held herself so still, she got a cramp in her toes. Finally Colter broke the silence.

“I envy him,” he said, and then he was gone.

Jo Beth lay back on the bunk, drained. She felt as if she'd given blood to the Red Cross and they'd accidentally taken all she had.

“Heaven help me,” she said. “What in the world am I going to do?”

She lay there a while longer, working up her courage. Finally she decided that she hadn't come all the way to San Francisco to fall into Colter's arms and be sent away again.
This time,
she was going to be in charge.

She hurried with her bath, then quickly jerked on her clothes—old jeans and a Mississippi State sweatshirt. Dressing to thrill had given way to dressing in a hurry.

She piled her hair on top of her head, secured it with a maroon ribbon, and hurried into the galley. Toast and eggs tempted her, but she didn't have time for all that.

She hadn't heard a sound from Colter. For all she knew he had packed his polish rag and gone back to his own houseboat. She poured herself a large glass of juice, then gathered her ammunition and headed to the top deck.

She was out of breath by the time she reached topside. To her relief, Colter was still there, his back to her, silently working on the brass. It was time for her big show.

She put a fancy smile on her face and sauntered past him. She made enough racket so he'd be certain to hear.

Sure enough, just as she was undulating past, he looked up. She put an extra hitch into her walk and glanced out of the corner of her eye to see how he was taking it all.

The polish rag was still, but so was his face. Too late, she wondered whether he preferred twenties vamps or fifties innocents. It was funny that she didn't know that about Colter.

“Good morning, again.” She put all the cheer she could muster into the greeting.

He didn't speak. He leaned against the railing and watched as she pulled out a deck chair and placed her booty on the small table. Without looking at him, she selected the most succulent strawberry in the bowl and lifted it to her mouth. She curled her lips around it and took a big bite. She savored the berry, and then slowly, ever so slowly, she took the uneaten half away. Bits of pulp clung to her lips.

She made her eyes wide and innocent as she looked up at him.

“Did you come to tempt me, Jo?”

“Yes.” She bit into the berry again, never taking her gaze off him. He watched her elaborate flirtation with the berry. When she had eaten the whole thing, she flicked her pink tongue around her mouth. “Want some?”

“How can I refuse such an invitation?”

He slowly set aside his polish rag. Colter was not without a sense of drama himself. He seemed to take forever to cross the polished deck. When he reached her, he leaned against the table edge.

“Are you sure you don't want to retract that offer?”

“I'm positive.” She reached for another berry.

He watched her dig into the bowl. When her hand was in midair, he reached out and caught her by the wrist. Leaning over the table, he closed his mouth over the strawberry. He didn't bite into the juicy flesh immediately, but kept his mouth clamped so that the tips of her fingers were against his tongue.

He held her that way, watching her. A bead of sweat popped out on her forehead and a hot flush stained her cheeks. He moved his tongue back and forth, dragging it with agonizing slowness across her fingertips.

He held her fingers in his mouth so long, the strawberry began to disintegrate. Finally he was forced to release her fingers and swallow the berry juice. But he kept his hold on her wrist.

“Do you want another one?” she asked.

He didn't reply immediately but held on to her, looking deep into her eyes. Memories of September nights in Arizona hung between them.

His hand tightened. Leaning across the table, his face close to hers, he said, “Don't offer what you're not ready to give, Jo.”

Her heart raced, but she refused to back down. “Don't take what you're not ready to keep, Colter.”

The truth of what she had said struck him in the gut. He had taken her, had claimed her for his own, and then he had let her go. She had every right to be angry.

Was that why she had come here? For revenge? Though it was totally out of character for her, he had to consider it as a possibility. After all, when he had asked her to wait for him, she'd told him she didn't know what she would do.

“Why are you here, Jo?”

“I told you. Business.”

“I think that's only part of the truth.”

She smiled at him. “You have your secrets and I have mine.”

“Jo...”He could tell her no more now than he could on White Mountain. Releasing her wrist, he stepped away from the table. “Eat your strawberries. They're good for you.”

“Doctor's orders?”

“Friendly advice.”

“Is that all we are now, Colter—friends?”

It was a long time before he spoke, and when he did, his voice reminded her of the music of the mountains.

“That's all we are, Jo... for now.”

Never taking her gaze from his, she reached into the bowl. The strawberry she selected was overripe and very juicy. She took her time eating it. She sucked on the berry, bit into it, savored it, and finally swallowed the last bite. Then she very carefully licked her lips, like a satisfied cat.

It was more temptation than Colter could bear. He came around the table and lifted her from the chair. His hands gripped her shoulders and his face was tight.

“There's a better way to clean your mouth, Jo.”

He bent down and very carefully traced her lips with his tongue. All the breath left her body. He lifted his face just a fraction from hers, and she could still feel his warm breath when he spoke.

“Strawberries taste better on you. I think I'll have some more.”

This time he didn't lick her lips; he took them in a kiss that was so fierce and hot, it burned sill the way to her toes. When he finally let her go, she was actually panting.

He stepped back, and she put one hand over her puffy lips.

“Is that what you wanted, Jo?”

“Colter...”

“Last night you asked what you would get if you flirted with me. Does that answer the question to your satisfaction?”

“No.” She dragged the last bit of McGill bravado from somewhere inside her shaky self. “If that's the best you can do, then I've wasted money on these strawberries.”

Amusement lit his eyes and turned up the corners of his mouth. He didn't merely pull her into his arms—he took her captive. He held her in such a way that she could feel every inch of his body, from the muscular calves and thighs all the way up to the well-toned chest. While his mouth claimed hers, his hands roved over her back.

There was magic in his fingers. They massaged and explored and aroused until she was dizzy with desire. She felt as if the houseboat were rocking in a stormy sea.

Once more she became Earth Mother and he became Father Sky. He filled her senses, even as he had once filled her body. The only thing missing was the music of his native poetry.

He kissed her silently this time. There on the deck of the houseboat, Jo Beth discovered that she had followed Gray Wolf to San Francisco and had found Dr. Colter Gray instead.

She ran her hands through his newly cropped dark hair. She had loved the braids, but the hair didn't matter. The thing she missed about her Colter was the Apache music he'd carried in his soul.

Still in his embrace, Jo Beth made her vow: She'd have it all. She'd have her worldly Dr. Gray and her poetic Gray Wolf, or her name was not Jo Beth McGill.

When Colter finally let her go, she stepped back and smiled at him.

“That's much better. I especially enjoyed what you did with your hands.”

“Then well have to do it again sometime, Jo.”

He turned and walked away. His departure was as quiet as his arrival had been. The exit was dignified and dramatic, worthy of all his famous ancestors. Jo Beth might have been disheartened, except for one thing: He'd forgotten his polishing supplies.

She smiled and plucked another strawberry from the bowl. Her assault had just begun.

o0o

Colter didn't even stop to change his clothes. He left Jo Beth and went directly to the hospital, driving his Porsche through the streets with the same flair that he rode his stallion through the mountains.

When he stepped off the elevator onto the third floor, Nurse Martin pursed her fat lips and shook her finger at him.

“You know good and well that overworked doctors are supposed to stay at home on their days off.”

“Martin, you know better than to tell a doctor what to do.” He chucked her under the chin. “You're not getting enough sleep. Is that arthritis still bothering you?”

“No more than that burr under your saddle is bothering you.”

He laughed. Nurse Martin always had the last word with him.

“Give me the charts on Briggs and Gladney and keep that lonely-hearts advice to yourself.”

“Humph. Not that you'd take advice if I gave it to you.” She handed him the chart and looked pointedly at his feet. “Moccasins?” With one finger she reached out and touched a spot on his shirt collar. “Stains? Have I missed something, Doctor Neat? Is the world coming to an end?”

“Strawberries, Nurse Martin. Have you ever heard of them?”

“Yeah. But I've never heard of you getting a stain on your immaculate person.” She rolled her eyes. “What is this world coming to?”

He gave her an enigmatic smile and disappeared down the hall with his charts.

Nurse Martin turned to Nurse Turner. “What did I tell you, Tilly? Our Dr. Gray is in love.”

“In love? Not Dr. Gray. He donated his heart years ago. There's nothing in that beautiful bronze chest of his except a time clock.”

“How do you know what his chest looks like? You been up to something and holding out on me?”

“Don't I wish.” Tilly Turner beseeched the cool white hospital ceiling with her eyes. “It stands to reason, Geraldine. Anybody with gorgeous skin like that is bound to be bronze all over.”

Nurse Kemp came on duty just in time to hear that last remark. She adjusted her cap and picked up her ever-ready blood kit.