The Older Woman (17 page)

He suddenly leaned back so that he could see her face. “Tell me what I can do. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, and she caught his hand and placed it firmly on her breast.

“You won’t,” she said, looking into his eyes.

He didn’t need any more invitation than that. He kissed her again, touching her now the way he wanted. With her help, he moved up farther on the bed. She pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside, then reached for her dress.

“Let me do it,” he said. His hands trembled, but he managed. The dress. The bra—lacy, definitely see-through. The “pants” she’d rightly accused him of wanting to get into.

He ran his hands over her body, and he looked. At her breasts. At the surgical scar on the left one above the nipple. He touched her all over, savored and tasted her until her head arched back and she gave a soft moan. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t believe his incredible luck. This woman—this beautiful, beautiful woman—wanted
this.

Wanted

him.

“Wait,” she whispered, attempting to pull down the sheet and arrange the pillows.

“No,” he said. “I can’t. Not…this time—”

He couldn’t wait. It was all he could do to last until he could get the rest of his clothes off and the condom pack opened. He had to grit his teeth at the feel of her hands on him.

Kate!

Then he brought her astride him and thrust deeply into her, losing himself in the intense pleasure of her body, a pleasure he could die from. He wanted to tell her how good it was, but he couldn’t.

Lost.

He was lost, and he never wanted to be found again.

Everything was happening so fast. It was going to end too quickly. He was too far gone for restraint.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her as he reached his noisy and unrestrained climax. She collapsed against him, spent, and he kissed whatever he could reach, his breathing ragged, his body exhausted. When she would have moved away from him, he kept her where she was. He didn’t want it to be over. Not yet. Not

yet—

She lay on top of him, and after a while he rolled her onto the bed so that she could stretch out beside him. He brushed her hair back from her face because he wanted to see her eyes.

They were so sad.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked. “I didn’t mean—”

She pressed her fingertips against his lips. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He didn’t quite believe her.

She suddenly smiled. “Well,” she said, giving a long sigh. “So much for playing hard to get.”

He slept the sleep of a happy, satisfied man—and he woke up cold, hungry and alone. He didn’t know where he was at first—an all-too-familiar response for someone who had fallen asleep in as many strange places as he had. But then he remembered. He would remember for as long as he lived.

He turned over painfully so he could see the clock.

Oh-five-twenty.

Maybe she had to go in to work again, he thought, listening for some sound of her in the house. But he would have heard the phone if it had rung, surely.

Maybe she’d had second thoughts about all this and she’d moved to some other part of the house to get away from him. He managed to sit up on the side of the bed and get his shorts on, and then to get to his feet. He had no idea what he’d done with the cane. Kitchen, maybe. That was the last place he remembered having it.

He struggled to the bathroom, and he had to hold on to the wall to get there. He still didn’t see Kate anywhere and he didn’t call out to her. The cat was waiting patiently by the door when he came out. It was clearly glad to see him, doing the ballet turns again and then escorting him the rest of the way into the kitchen. It went directly to the kitchen cabinet where the packets of cat food were kept.

“No way, chow hound,” he said. “I know when you got fed last.”

His cane was leaning against the kitchen table. He took it and walked to the back door, then onto the patio. To his surprise the cat came with him outside—a decision it regretted almost immediately. It shot under the potting table and assumed a panicked crouch. Kate’s car was conspicuously absent from the driveway where she’d left it.

Doyle stood staring at the empty spot, breathing in the cool morning air as if that was all he’d come out here for.

Okay, Kate. Now what?

Clearly she saw this situation as a one-night stand, and she was behaving accordingly. It wasn’t the first time she’d disappeared when he was asleep in her house, but the other time she’d at least left some reasonably informative notes so he’d have some idea about what he was supposed to do.

So where is she?

There were no birds stirring yet. No sounds at all except an occasional vehicle passing on a distant, more heavily traveled street. It occurred to him after a moment that it was daylight enough for someone—Mrs. Bee—to see him standing outside in his underwear. The notion didn’t bother him enough to make him go back into the house.

The cat suddenly jumped up on the table and leaned in his direction.

“What?” he said, reaching out to briefly scratch its ears. “Is the coast clear now?”

A sudden spasm in the muscles in his right leg caused him to grab the edge of the table. The cat scattered, jumping at the back door as if it expected it to open like the ones at the grocery store.

“Ah,

damn!
” he said, bending lower. It was clear that the sudden and spectacular resurrection of his sex life had done nothing for the rest of what ailed him. And the more the pain escalated, the more real the prospect of yet another surgery became. Lieutenant McGraw had come almost all the way back, but he didn’t have the same kind of damage, and Doyle might as well get adjusted to that fact. He could see the rest of his life turning into one trip to the operating room after another. He did
not
want to go to damn Texas!

He leaned against the table, breathing deeply, at war with his own body, struggling to get the upper hand. After a moment he was able to make it as far as the door to let the still-freaked-out cat back inside.

A car pulled into the driveway, and he turned to look, still holding the door open. Kate parked in her same spot and got out. She was wearing khaki shorts and a little white T-shirt and carrying a white paper bag. He was immediately aware of two things—how glad he was to see her, and, unless he was very mistaken, how glad
she
was to see
him.

More than he expected. Maybe more than she expected.

“Are

you

trying
to upset the neighbors?” she asked, gesturing toward his boxer shorts and the neighborhood in general.

“Nah. I was hoping your sisters would drop by.”

“Oh, please. I’m not ready for that.”

“Have you got to work today?”

“No.”

“Outstanding,” he said.

She stopped in front of him, awkward suddenly, as if she’d just found herself in completely strange terrain and she wasn’t at all sure what direction she should take. He couldn’t stop staring at her, and he couldn’t stop remembering. He was remembering so well that she suddenly blushed—or he thought she did.

“I brought breakfast,” she said in an attempt to hide it. She held up the bag.

“Some other time,” he said, opening the door wider so she could go inside.

She didn’t go, and he took the bag from her and gave it a toss. It landed…somewhere.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?” she said, trying not to smile.

“Later,” he assured her, propelling her inside. “I have other, more pressing matters to take care of.”

“Like what?” she asked, her eyes full of mischief.

“Like—” He stopped because the mischief in her eyes suddenly gave way to something else.

“What?” he asked, taking a step toward her. He expected her to back away, but she didn’t.

“The truth?” she asked.

“Always,” he said.

She took a breath. “All right. When I woke up, I thought I wanted you gone. I was going to tell you that when I got back—but I didn’t expect to see you standing out here…”

“And?” he said, because she was on a roll with the bad news, and he might as well hear all of it.

She looked down at the floor, and whatever she said next, he didn’t understand.

“What?”

She looked up at him. “I said, I keep losing my nerve.”

“You don’t need it. You don’t have to tell me to take a hike. I’m getting the picture here.”

“No—that’s not what I wanted to say to you.”

“What

then?”

“Take me to bed,” she said.

Just out with it. No frills and in plain English.

He stared at her, wondering if he looked as stunned as he felt.

“Okay,” he said agreeably when he’d recovered, trying not to grin because she was so solemn.

“I know how crazy this all sounds,” she said. “But I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“This

is

insane,
” she said, coming to him and leaning her forehead against chest.

“Affirmative,” he said, because he was beginning to pick up on the fact that being with her was going to be one hell of a roller-coaster ride.

He put his arms around her, anyway.

“It

doesn’t

just

seem
insane. It
is
insane.”

“Roger that,” he said.

“People are going to talk.”

“Roger that, too.”

She leaned back to look at him. “You don’t care,” she said in a tone that couldn’t have been more accusing.

“Not a damn bit,” he said, letting the grin he’d been trying to hold back get away from him. He was one more happy man here.

“So which one of us is going to play hard to get this time?” he asked.

“I’m thirty-two,” he said, because he didn’t think she was asleep.

She opened her eyes. “Is this where I tell you how old I am?”

“I don’t care how old you are. I just thought I’d mention it. In case you want to beat yourself up about the age thing some more.”

“I’m not beating myself up,” she said, closing her eyes again. “At the moment,”

she added. She stretched and gave a quiet sigh—while he appreciated the view. They had made love, eaten cold bacon biscuits, slept, showered, made love again.

And now he wanted to talk.

“Are you in love with the real estate guy?” he asked bluntly. He ran his finger along her collarbone to the soft swell of her breast with the fascination of a grateful and still-interested man.

“No,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“You…sat out in the rain a long time.”

“I have trust issues,” she said. “I told you I misjudged him. It brought back a lot of old feelings—feelings I had when my marriage ended. For a while I just couldn’t handle being that wrong. Again.”

“He never noticed the scar?”

She opened her eyes. “Why are you asking me this?”

“It’s a guy thing.”

“Enlighten

me.”

“I want to know if you and the real estate guy were lovers and I’m trying to be suave about it.”

She didn’t say anything.

“So how am I doing?”

“Not good,” she said.

“Were you lovers?”

“No,” she said. “We weren’t lovers.”

“I hate his guts, anyway,” he said, bringing her closer. “I even hate the bastard you bought the condoms for.”

“You’re the bastard I bought the condoms for.”

He couldn’t keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Outstanding!”

“Cal!

Cal…!”

“What—?”

“Wake

up!”

“What?”

“Wake

up!”

He opened his eyes. Kate was leaning over him, the way she had that night Mrs. Bee had dragged her out of the shower to come see about him.

“You were dreaming.”

“I

don’t—what?”

“Are you awake now?”

“Yeah…yeah,” he said, trying to calm his erratic breathing.

“Let me see,” she said. “Look at me.” Her warm hands cupped his face as she looked into his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he said, trying to drag up enough of a smile to reassure her. “Sorry.”

“Are you hurting?”

“Not

much.”

“You’re not telling me the truth again.”

“Okay, I hurt,” he said.

“Let me get the throw.”

“No,” he said, grabbing her arm when she would have gotten out of bed. “I don’t need it. I need—” He gritted his teeth against the latest onslaught of pain.

“What can I do?”

“Everything. Do everything. Take my…mind off it. Kate!”

“Shhh,” she whispered, pressing her face against his. “It’s all right.” She moved closer to him and gently kissed his mouth. He immediately returned the kiss, giving himself over to the sensation, to losing himself in her.

“Kate…”

Chapter Ten

A
ll three sisters stood on the doorstep.

“Where’s is my sister?” Grace asked, and to hell with the pleasantries. He had the distinct impression that if his answer didn’t suit her, it would be way too bad for him.

“She’s at work,” he said. “She won’t get off until seventeen hundred.”

“Then

what

are

you
doing here?”

“You don’t want to go there, Grace. Trust me.”

She and Arley frowned. Gwen beamed.

“I just don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Grace said.

“Right now, I’m on my way home. Go on in. There’s some iced tea in the refrigerator.” He was pushing his luck by flaunting his familiarity with the available beverages in Kate’s kitchen—but he just couldn’t resist rattling their cages. The real truth here, though, was that he owed them. Their fake dinner invitation and their subsequent push to keep Kate from doing anything outrageous with him were the reasons she had been sitting on the patio alone in the dark in the first place. Not only had they given him the perfect opportunity to kiss her, they had also put her in the aggravated state of mind to let him—and he had no doubt that that kiss had led to the night and day he’d just had.

He stood back to let them in, then hobbled out the door. The cat came with him, and he didn’t blame it. He expected that the atmosphere in the house was going to be anything but peaceful.