The One Worth Waiting For (10 page)

She sliced some cheese with more force than was necessary, quickly spreading the slices around the perimeter of the plate, interspersing them with crackers. A cut-up apple filled the center, making a pretty and simple arrangement.

A late-night snack, then she’d retire to her room, an other day completed. Tomorrow, she’d work in her garden She lifted the plate, took another deep breath and pasted on a polite, relaxed smile. Feeling a bit like a general going to war, she marched into the living room.

All the lights were still out, just the moon streaming in through the bay windows to bathe her living room in a silvery light. It made things soft and velvety, and immediately, she hesitated. The electric tension still charged the air Attracted as if by a magnet, her eyes went straight to the man responsible for it all. He was leaning up against a thir strip of wall between the bay windows, the moonlight be hind him so that he was completely cast in shadows, his face totally unreadable.

She wondered if perhaps he hadn’t planned it that way.

Slowly, she lifted up the plate and forced her voice to sound steady and unconcerned. “I brought some cheese and crackers if you’re hungry,” she said simply. Then squaring her shoulders, she marched to the coffee table and set down the plate. She could feel his eyes on her and kept herself purposefully distant. If he wanted to play his games, well let him. She was tired of acting the fluttering, provincial fool.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Darn if the words didn’t throw her for a loop. Since when was Garret polite? She found herself wavering while the sane corner of her mind whispered that politeness was only a new kind of bait he was using in his trap.

“What…what did you do today?” she asked, standing stiffly in the center of the room. Suddenly, the air between them crackled with unseen frustration.

“Nothing.” He whispered the word like a curse, and the quiet vehemence immediately touched her. Of course he’d be tense. She’d known all along that Garret Guiness was not the kind of man to be kept locked up. But here he was, wounded and without his memory, confined to her house while she gallivanted around on her merry way. She worried her lower lip. They were definitely going to have to find something for the man to do. Otherwise he would simply go insane.

“Come here,” he said roughly. Still working through her thoughts on this new dilemma, she simply picked up the cheese and crackers and obeyed. It wasn’t until she was an arm’s length away that she was jolted back to attention. And that was when he reached out and without warning, took the plate from her hands.

He didn’t appear to want any cheese and crackers because he set the plate on the floor instead. Suddenly, she knew.

Already his hand was on her wrist, firm but gentle as he dragged her toward him. Eyes wide, she followed the unquestioning force of the direction. The tension was back, and she half expected to see sparks of lightning in her living room.

She stopped just inches away, her breathing suddenly tight and quick. She still couldn’t see his face clearly, but she could feel his gaze burning into her. Abruptly, his thumb caressed the exposed skin of her shoulder, and she jumped.

“I like your dress,” he said in a low voice. Dumbly, she nodded. She’d told herself this morning she’d picked the dress for comfort, but with his hands branding her bare skin, she couldn’t shy away from the truth. It was a simple broomstick dress in a dark pine green. The V-necked tank top left her long arms uncovered while the Empire cut fell to a crinkled skirt that flowed around her ankles. It should have been shapeless, but when she moved, the light fabric followed the contours of her body with sensual suggestion.

Now Garret’s eyes skimmed down her figure, seeming to find each of those round curves fascinating. Slowly, his large hand slid to the base of her throat, his calloused fingers resting delicately around her graceful throat.

“Was it good to get back to your routine today?”

Hardly able to breathe, she nodded, feeling his fingers rough and strong against her skin.

“Meetings?” he asked silkily. His hand lifted, tracing the outline of her ear. She shivered at the light, tantalizing touch. “I bet you’re the volunteer type,” he whispered. “Maybe church bingo. Fund-raiser. Definitely garden club material.”

She tried to muster indignation at his words, but it was hard to command her own muscles when he kept touching her. Besides, he wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true. Then he leaned down, and she found herself holding her breath in anticipation.

“And men?” he whispered, so close she could feel the motion of his lips. “Does getting back to your routine mean you’ll be staying out late with men?”

She licked her lips and tried to think of a suitable answer. The correct one would be no, but she hadn’t so lost her senses that she’d admit that to him.

“Of course,” she managed to reply finally. The words lacked force, and their meaning was probably undermined by the way she arched her neck closer to the warmth of his lips. “By—by the dozen,” she added hesitantly.

In the dark, she could feel his grin. “I bet they all play bingo,” he drawled.

She nodded, her mind seeking out a sharp retort while her lips still tingled from the teasing proximity of his lips. “Yes,” she said at last, not able to think up anything else to say about these nonexistent men.

Abruptly, he leaned back, and she felt the sharp pang of disappointment. His thumb rasped up her neck, a corresponding shiver sparking up her spine. He didn’t lean forward again, though. Instead, he seemed to be looking at her with something close to contemplation. Then, he shook his head.

“You should keep away from me,” he said in the shadows. She nodded, but didn’t move. “I don’t like being caged up all day,” he continued. Whatever war he’d been fighting, he lost, because suddenly his hand moved, smoothing up to find the knot at the top of her hair. While she sucked in her breath, he drew the first hairpin out. “I just want to know how many,” he murmured. His strong fingers found the second slender pin and slipped it out as well. Slowly, her long hair unwound and cascaded down.

She had to bite her lip against the soft sigh that nearly escaped. At the end of a long day, there was nothing quite like the relief of her long hair finally falling free. The cool, fine strands brushed against her shoulders and neck. Unconsciously, she arched back her head.

He didn’t say anything, but buried both of his hands in the mass of her hair, combing through the silky tresses, massaging her scalp with slow, sensual strokes that made her lean closer. He picked up a handful of the brown strands, letting them spill over his hands to fall halfway down her back.

His dark eyes gleamed.

The restlessness surged and soared again in his veins. He needed a distraction. And here she was, her eyes already heavy lidded and half-closed while her hair tangled around his hands like a silken net. He should walk away. She wasn’t his type, and she certainly deserved better than him. All he had to offer were goodbyes; she’d do better with the bingo folks.

But then she looked at him again, her gaze golden with simmering anticipation and barely suppressed passion. He stopped thinking and started feeling instead. Want. Need. Desire.

He leaned forward sharply, catching that beguiling scent of roses and shampoo. His hands stayed entwined in her hair. His lips found hers.

She trembled at the first touch of his lips brushing across hers. He felt the tremble, and it filled him with primal satisfaction. One hand snaked around her back, curving around her warm, slender waist, and without deepening the kiss, he drew her up hard against his frame. Her breasts pressed against his chest through the thin fabric of her dress, her hips tantalizingly close.

With schooled discipline, he slanted his mouth slightly and deepened the kiss. His tongue touched her lips, tracing them suggestively. She jolted at the contact, skittish and untamed in his arms. He continued soft and slow, willing her to respond.

Tentatively, her arms crept around his neck, and he congratulated her with a teasing nip at the corner of her mouth. Breathlessly, her lips parted, and his tongue slid between her teeth, delving into her mouth with long, sure strokes.

She gasped, her muscles turning to liquid as she melted against his hard frame. Suddenly, her arms were clinging to his neck for support, while his mouth did wild and wonderful things that flushed her cheeks and heated her blood. He tasted dark and masculine, an exotic temptation she didn’t completely understand but wanted to have. She found herself pressing closer, her lips parting wider while she unconsciously arched her neck.

His hand drifted down to cup her buttocks, and then he was pressing his hips intimately against her. She gasped again, and he took the opportunity to tangle his tongue around her own. Shivers raced down her back, and she tentatively returned his ministrations.

He growled low in his throat. “Yes, sweetheart. Do that. Kiss me back, honey, just like that.”

The power was heady and strong, nearly as beguiling as the kiss itself. She could feel his hard, hot body pressed against her own, his corded neck beneath her hands. And his tongue dueled with hers, plunging and plundering, only to draw back and tease her mercilessly. She tasted his lips, firm and hot and masculine. She explored the corners of his mouth and heard him groan while his hips rubbed against her own suggestively. She could feel his heated length through her thin dress and she was at once breathless and needy.

Her thighs grew damp, and she hadn’t known her own restlessness until now. Suddenly, she was the one pressing against him, her fingers tangling in the long, jet strands of his wild hair.

His hand brushed forward, cupping her breast. She arched back, her eyes closed while hot, exotic need boiled through her. She wanted his hand on her breast just like that. And when his fingers found her nipple, rolling it seductively, she bit her lip against the unbearable pleasure. She wanted his hands everywhere. She wanted him to find her, to torment her and end the wonderful torment with something that was sure to be even better. His hardness pressing, rubbing against her. His rigid, burning length, plunging into her…

His hand slipped inside her dress to find her breast, and she didn’t protest. She wanted simply to let herself go and turn herself over to this new world unexpectedly exploding in her veins. She wanted him to make her feel all the things she’d never known.

But then she opened her eyes, looking at the shadowed man she really couldn’t see in the darkness of the room.

And all of a sudden, she felt the fear. She didn’t even know him. He was just someone she had worshiped all those years ago when she’d been too stupid to know otherwise. He’d left her at the bus stop with a rainy promise that had become the center of her world. And how many nights had she lain there praying he would come back? All those nights she would have sold her sixteen-year-old soul if only he’d return and take her away.

The shattering mornings when she’d awaken in the same bed, with her mother’s drunken snores already filling her ears.

He wasn’t holding her in his arms then; he wasn’t calling her sweetheart and honey. He was thousands of miles away, playing the soldier he always wanted to be, while she struggled with the same small-town life she’d always led.

Now, he was merely the stranger passing through town. A stranger who traveled with three condoms in his wallet and knew a whole lot more about the world than she did. A stranger who would inevitably return to that world without ever giving her another thought.

Without warning, her eyes filled with hot tears. And even as his lips nipped at her own, she thought she might hate him.

Before he could react, she pushed herself away with all her might. And as he reached out reflexively for her, she drew back her hand and cracked it across his cheek.

The room grew deathly silent, and for a long moment, the only movement was the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His hand came up and gingerly touched his cheek. Still, he didn’t say anything.

“Next time you need a distraction,” she snapped, her voice low and furious, “there’s an exercise bike on the second floor. Why, with it you might get your strength back even faster so you can leave that much sooner.”

He rubbed his jaw again. “Suzanne—” he began, but she wouldn’t let him finish.

“You’re just passing through, Garret. I know that, Cagney knows that, we all know that. So don’t waste my time with any lines, and don’t you touch me again. I’ll be your host. I’ll be your nurse. You want something more, go look elsewhere.”

His eyes darkened dangerously, and once more, the air around him began to crackle. “If that’s what you want. But about thirty seconds ago, I could’ve sworn you wanted something completely different.”

She gasped, her mouth opening and closing, then opening again. But no words would come out, no answers for his blatant accusation. Her cheeks flushed red and fiery, and she didn’t know where to begin anymore. Her body trembled traitorously at the mere memory, and her cheeks burned even more brightly. At that moment, she hated the both of them.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced stiffly, clenching her hands in an effort at composure. “I’d suggest that in the morning, we simply start fresh. This never happened, and certainly won’t happen again.”

“As you wish.”

She nodded, though his choice of words sounded ominous. She pivoted sharply and, before she could do herself any more damage, marched down the hallway toward the stairs.

She did not want Garret Guiness.

She managed to keep that in mind until she made it up to her room. Then she closed the door and felt the hot tears of frustration roll down her cheeks.

Chapter 5

H
e was back at the rocky outskirts of the foreign city.

Around him, he could see the makeshift tents and wooden lean-tos of a temporary camp. Cooking fires smoldered within small circles of rocks, logs set up as benches. Right now, however, no one sat around the campfires.