The Summit (20 page)

Autumn remembered to breathe. “That…that sounds great.” She managed to smile. “I've only been here a couple of times. Terri and I came over on the ferry but we just prowled around town and then went back to Seattle.”

“In that case, I'll give you the five-dollar tour. I'd better take my briefcase. There's always a chance Riker will call.”

“What's in it?”

“A copy of the information we've collected from your dreams and the original police report. I'm hoping that's enough.”

“Maybe your friend Walker sent him the FBI report.”

“I don't think so. I told Lee I wanted this guy to look at the crime scene from a fresh perspective.”

“Are you going to tell him about the dreams?” Autumn asked.

“Not if I don't have to. I told Lee. I also told him some of what you've said has been corroborated, enough that I'm willing to pursue the matter. I'm not sure what he told Riker.”

They climbed a white wooden staircase that wound its way up the cliff to the house but made their way around to the side instead of going in. A bright red Jeep with four huge all-terrain tires sat in front of a line of five garages.

“One of Charlie's toys,” Ben explained. “Fortunately, I get to use it.” He knew where the key was so they climbed in and snapped on their seat belts.

Several hours later, after a leisurely tour of Bainbridge Island and a stop for drinks in one of the local pubs to watch the sun go down, they started back toward the house.

The bad news was that Burt Riker hadn't called.

Which meant they would have to spend the night on Ben's boat.

Autumn's stomach knotted.

“I
t's getting late,” Autumn said as the Jeep made its way along the narrow road winding through the trees. “Maybe we should stop somewhere and get something to eat.”

“Good idea.” But instead of stopping at a restaurant, Ben pulled into one of the local markets, a small batt-and-board structure with the front door propped open and several cars parked in front.

“A grocery store?” Autumn said.

“That's right. I'm cooking you dinner aboard.”

“
You're
cooking? But the morning we had breakfast at my apartment, you said—”

“I said I hadn't had anyone cook for me in years. That's true. After my divorce, I got tired of eating out, so I learned how to cook for myself.”

He made her wait in the Jeep while he shopped, hoping to surprise her. It had been a wonderful day, but evening was setting in and during the time she sat in the car, her mood began to shift.

She would be spending the night with Ben. He would be cooking her dinner. They would be drinking wine, enjoying an evening aboard his expensive yacht in a beautiful ocean setting.

She swallowed. All afternoon as they had explored the island, her mind had flashed images of the night they'd made love, of Ben's incredible, gloriously naked body. She remembered the feel of him pressing her down in the mattress, her nipples hard against the muscles in his chest as he moved inside her. She had done her best to block the memories, but they were creeping into her mind again.

For an instant, she panicked. She would make him take her home, tell him she had gotten a call on her cell phone. Something had come up and she needed to get back, a problem with her dad or maybe—

Autumn sighed and leaned back in the seat. She was being ridiculous. Ben hadn't brought her to the island for seduction. After the first time, whenever they had been together he had been a perfect gentleman. She was the one with the problem, not Ben. Surely she could continue to maintain the polite distance he had kept between them all day.

As soon as they got back to the boat, Ben set to work in the galley and Autumn went to change into more comfortable clothes. She had brought loose-fitting lavender plush pants and a matching zip-front jacket in case they needed to stay, and she pulled the garments on gratefully, leaving her jeans and sweater in the smaller cabin, along with her shoes and canvas overnight bag.

Emerging from below, she found Ben busily dicing tomatoes and washing lettuce for a salad. Water boiled in a pot on the small galley stove.

Autumn slid into the dining booth and Ben brought her a glass of Chianti. He still wore his jeans and soft knit shirt but like Autumn, he had taken off his shoes and was padding around the elegant-yet-cozy salon in his bare feet.

Nice feet, she thought with a smile, suntanned and masculine, his toenails neatly trimmed. As he prepared the meal, Autumn found herself watching him. With his dark hair, golden brown eyes and solid jaw, he was incredibly handsome.

She loved his body—the lean muscles and wide shoulders, the six-pack muscles across his ribs. Whenever he looked her way, her pulse took a leap. She remembered the feel of his strong hands as he had helped her aboard, remembered the tingle of his arm against her breasts and her stomach contracted.

“Hungry yet?”

“Starving,” she replied.

“How about doing the salad while I finish the pasta sauce?”

“Sure.” She made her way down the two steps into the galley, barely large enough for both of them to work. For an instant, she stepped in his way. Her breast came in contact with his powerful chest and her nipples contracted. A soft curl of warmth tugged low in her belly.

Autumn stood frozen, staring up into Ben's tawny eyes. She recognized the heat there, the glitter of desire he had kept well hidden until now.

“Ben…”

It was steamy in the galley, fragrant with the aroma of garlic and tomatoes and crusty French bread. Ben reached over and turned off the flame beneath the pot of water boiling on the stove.

“Dinner can wait.” Then he was kissing her and when she tried to pull away, he wouldn't stop.

“I'm not letting you run anymore,” he said softly. “You want this as much as I do and we both know it.”

“You're wrong, Ben.”

“I'm right, Autumn.” Then his mouth was on hers, moving hotly, wet and fierce, a deep, taking, plundering kiss, his tongue sweeping in, stroking the inside of her mouth. Her legs went weak. Autumn clutched the front of his shirt as he backed her against the wall, his body holding hers immobile, pinning her against his tall frame.

When she tried to turn away, he caught her chin and kissed her until her lips softened and she opened to accept his tongue. For an instant, she wondered what he would do if she tried to make him stop, wondered if he would take what he wanted even if she said no.

The thought should have frightened her. Instead, all she could think was that if he took her, she would have an excuse for getting exactly what she wanted.

Ben ended the kiss before the notion went further. He was breathing hard, his golden eyes burning into her like flames.

“Tell me you want this, Autumn. By God, have the courage to admit it.”

She looked into his handsome face. “I want this.” Reaching up, she shoved her trembling fingers into his thick dark hair. “I'm going crazy with wanting, Ben. I want you to touch me all over. I want you inside me.”

Ben made a growling sound in his throat and then he was kissing her again and she was kissing him back. Their tongues tangled and mated. He unzipped the front of her jacket and reached inside to cup a breast. She had discarded her bra when she changed and the feel of his calloused hand against her bare skin sent a shiver of longing through her.

He slipped the top off her shoulders, then slid the loose-fitting pants down over her hips. She was left in only her pink thong and he dragged it down too, found her softness and began to stroke her.

Autumn moaned into his mouth.

Ben didn't bother to remove his clothes, just unzipped the fly of his jeans and released himself, lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist and plunged himself inside her.

“Oh, God, Ben…”

“You're driving me crazy,” he said against the side of her neck. “I think about you all day. At night, I dream of being inside you.” He eased out and drove into her again. He touched her, stroked her, pounded into her until she cried out in release and her head slumped onto his shoulder.

She let out a sigh of pure contentment, but Ben didn't let go.

Instead, he nipped the side of her neck. “Hold on, baby, we aren't finished yet.”

Her body tightened in anticipation. Desire sprang to life once more. True to his word, he kissed her deeply and started moving, turning her insides hot with need. His big hands cupped her bottom as his rhythm increased, driving himself harder and deeper, bringing her to a second shattering climax.

They reached the peak together, both of them shaking, their bodies covered with a thin layer of perspiration. Autumn barely noticed when he carried her down the steps to the master cabin and settled her in his bed. As she snuggled beneath the comforter he tossed over her, he leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.

“I'll wake you when supper's ready.”

Autumn didn't argue. She just wanted to lie there, relaxed and content, feeling completely sated and utterly feminine.

Later she would think about what she had done and what she should do about Ben.

 

“Come on, sleepyhead. Dinner's on the table.” Ben held out her clothes and Autumn yawned and stretched and swung her legs to the side of the bed.

“I need to make a pit stop and I'll be right there.” She pulled on the soft plush pants and zipped up the matching jacket, went in to use the head then joined Ben at the table. He had set it with white porcelain dinnerware on aqua blue placemats that matched the interior of the boat and refilled their glasses of wine.

“Supper looks fantastic.” Autumn's stomach growled at the sight of the lovely pasta in cream sauce piled high with fresh mussels, clams, scallops and shrimp.

“I hope you like it.”

What was not to like? The food looked delicious and she dug in with relish, even hungrier that she had thought. Autumn took a sip of her Chianti, which was rich and delicious, her body still faintly tingling from the great sex they'd had. She set her glass back down on the table.

“There's something I've been wanting to tell you.”

A dark eyebrow went up. “How much you like it when I take you to bed?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Well, that, too.”

His look turned serious. “So what is it you've been wanting to tell me?”

“I think I've figured out why I started having these dreams.”

Ben eased back against the padded leather seat of the booth, his gaze fixed on her face. “Why?”

“It occurred to me that when I had the dreams before, back when I was in high school, they didn't start until I met Tim Wiseman. I had known Jolie and Jeff for years—they were two of my closest friends—but it wasn't until I met Tim, the kid who was driving the car the night of the accident, that I started to dream about the wreck.”

“Go on.”

“It wasn't until twelve years later that I started to dream again. I think there has to some kind of link between the people involved. In this case, I saw or met the blond man somewhere before I ever knew you. It must have been just sort of in passing because I still can't remember where it was. But I didn't start dreaming about him until I saw you at the gym. You were the link, just like Tim Wiseman. If I hadn't seen both you
and
the blond man, I don't think I ever would have dreamed about Molly. I think I had to come in contact with both of you, the same way I did with my friends and Tim Wiseman.”

“I guess that makes an odd sort of sense.”

“And I think the event has to be very traumatic—the violent death of three teenagers or in this case, a child who's been kidnapped from her parents.”

“If you're right, at least it won't happen to you very often.”

Autumn's fingers tightened on the stem of her glass. “If it never happens again, it's fine with me.”

They finished Ben's fabulous supper, enjoying the wine and casual conversation. He told her a little about growing up in the Mid-west, about his years in college, that his parents had both passed away and that he still missed them. They avoided more talk of Molly. If luck was with them, they would be meeting the FBI profiler tomorrow and both of them knew it could be a very rough day.

As soon as the dishes were cleared, washed and put away, they headed down to the cabins in the bow of the boat. Autumn didn't protest when Ben opened his door and waited for her to walk past him into the room. She could read the desire in his eyes and a soft ache throbbed inside her. Ben wanted to make love to her again and dear Lord, she wanted him to.

To hell with tomorrow,
Autumn thought. If this was a fling, she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Standing in the narrow space next to the bed, she went up on her toes and kissed him and Ben pulled her down on the mattress.

 

The big boat rocked softly in the sea. Last night, after another wild round of lovemaking, the rhythm had lulled her gently to sleep. The sun was well up by the time they sat in the booth in the salon drinking rich black coffee and eating cinnamon rolls. Outside the windows, a seagull screeched and wheeled on the wind and the sky was a crystalline blue.

Over the rim of her steaming cup, Autumn looked at Ben. “There's something I've been wondering…”

He set his mug down on the table. “About what?”

“Last night…when we were in the galley and you first kissed me…would you have stopped if I'd really wanted you to?”

Ben's eyes met hers. A faint shadow of beard lined his jaw, which tightened just a little. “If you were any other woman, the answer to that would be easy. I would never force a woman to do something she didn't want to do. Last night…” He shook his head. “I wanted you so damned much. I honestly don't know.”

But Autumn believed that he would have stopped. Ben was just not the kind of man to force himself on an unwilling woman. That he was being honest about his feelings was refreshing and incredibly flattering.

Ben released a breath. “I brought you here to seduce you, Autumn. That is the flat-out truth.”

She couldn't have been more surprised.

“I was determined to have you. I wanted you back in my bed and I was sure you wanted that too. Last night was every bit as good as I thought it would be—hell, it was better than good. It was fantastic. I probably ought to feel guilty, but the truth is I'm glad things turned out the way they did.”

She couldn't say she was sorry either. Last night had been the best night of her life.