Read Trouble In Triplicate Online
Authors: Barbara Boswell
Trouble In Triplicate (12 page)
"Caine!" A moan caught in the back of her throat. Her eyes flew open and met his.
"The barriers are still there, Juliet," he said softly, "and I don't want anything to come between us. Talk to me. Tell me what you want, what you feel."
She felt almost mindless, torn between wanting and not wanting to let go, to give in completely, both physically and emotionally. Did she dare tell him that?
"I don't want to think," she heard herself whisper. "For the first time in my life I let my senses take over completely and I—" She halted abruptly.
"You what, darling?" Caine brushed his lips over hers, then moved to explore her throat and the delicate line of her collarbone to her shoulders, his mouth touching her in that same feather-light way. "Don't stop." He lifted his head.
Juliet was about to say the same thing to him. Don't stop. She wanted him to go on touching her, kissing her. She was swamped by a tide of sensual memories. She wanted what had happened to her before to happen again. And Caine was the one who made her want it. His control over her seemed absolute.
"I can't believe it's happening to me again," she said, almost dazedly. "I can't believe that I'm actually starting to want it to happen."
He gave a deep, husky laugh. "My passionate little virgin. I think you've surprised yourself tonight, haven't you, love?"
"Don't laugh at me!" She felt ridiculous tears spring to her eyes and was aghast. Dammit, she thought. She was not going to cry! She refused to succumb to the awful and outdated stereotype of the weepy, overemotional virgin!
"I wasn't laughing at you, honey." He soothed her with his words and his hands. "Never that. I—" He paused and swallowed. A potent combination of tenderness and protectiveness welled up within him. He was on dangerous ground here. These feelings were so new to him. For the first time in his life he felt unsure of what to say and do around a woman.
"I wouldn't hurt you." The words seemed absurdly inadequate.
"And is that why you aren't going to make love to me?" Her beautiful blue eyes were wide with confusion. "Because you think you'll hurt me?"
"I made love to you tonight. Juliet. Lovemaking doesn't always have to end in intercourse."
She blushed at the word and was thoroughly disgusted with herself for doing so. "I think you're evading the issue," she said severely in an attempt to regain control of the conversation.
"I don't even remember what the issue is," he drawled. He gave his head a slight shake, as if to clear it. "You have me so confused—"
"That's exactly the way I feel," Juliet interrupted softly. "Confused."
"About the way you feel about me?"
"About the way I feel when you touch me," she corrected him. Somehow she found the words that had eluded her before, along with the courage to tell him what she felt. "Oh, I've read all about sex. Who hasn't these days? But nothing prepared me for the loss of control and restraint. The actual need! How do you make me want everything you do to me while you stay cool and calm and"—she smiled suddenly—"dressed?"
Her smile went to his head like a straight shot of hundred and fifty proof whiskey. For a moment he simply stared at her, his senses reeling. They were even, he thought wryly. Nothing had prepared him for the incredible lightness in his head and in his heart when she smiled at him.
"I might've stayed dressed, but I was far from cool and calm, Juliet," he said thickly. "I'm more experienced than you are. I had to protect you. I . . . have to take care of you." He hadn't meant to tell her. The words had slipped out. If he had power over her, she had equal power over him, he acknowledged uncomfortably to himself.
He had to take care of her. Caine's words seemed to reverberate inside her head, warming her, thrilling her. Because he really did care about her? she wondered. It would seem so. Caine Saxon had definitely not made a practice of self-denial when it came to women and sex. But he had sacrificed his own satisfaction because he felt that he must protect her.
"Caine"—she snuggled up to him, like a kitten seeking attention and affection—"will you let me take care of you the way you took care of me?"
The silky material covering her felt cool and sensuous against his heated skin. She continued to nuzzle him, then lightly licked around his nipple with her small pink tongue. Caine felt fire flash through him and his brain seemed to explode.
Seconds later she was on her back and he was straddling her, holding her hands above her head with one of his own. "No, Juliet, you may not!" He smiled slowly, lazily. "On the other hand, I'm not averse to taking care of you again, my sexy and utterly irresistible little virgin."
❧
Juliet lay still and limp afterward, as if she were coming back from a faint. Caine was holding her and smiling down at her with a tenderness that made her sigh. The self-consciousness and confusion were gone, as was her nervous awareness of her own stunning vulnerability to him.
It didn't seem quite so unnerving now, not with his amber eyes caressing her so warmly and his hands holding her, petting her lovingly. They seemed to have reached a new level of intimacy and understanding. Juliet knew that she felt closer to him now than she'd ever felt to anyone, barring her sisters, of course.
They lay together in the darkness, holding each other and talking quietly for a long while. Juliet wanted to know everything about Caine—his childhood, his football career, why he had elected to come back to his old hometown to open his restaurant instead of remaining in Pittsburgh where he was a popular celebrity with a guaranteed sportscasting job.
"Because I wanted something different," Caine replied thoughtfully. He kissed the top of her head. "And I sure did find it," he added dryly, and then his voice took on an authoritative note. "Now go to sleep, Juliet. It's very late."
She smiled in the darkness as his arms tightened around her. She felt relaxed and incredibly content lying there with him. "You know," she murmured drowsily, "you've really shattered the old myth about renowned wolves and swinging playboys tonight, Saxon."
He smiled wryly. "Smashed it to smithereens."
Olivia and Miranda were waiting at the front door when Caine pulled his yellow Ferrari in front of the Post house the next morning. Juliet watched her sisters hurry down the walk toward the car and suppressed the urge to groan. She cast a quick, covert glance at Caine.
He was watching her watch her sisters. "They can't wait to give you the third degree, eh?" he asked.
She flushed and shrugged. She'd felt awkward and strained in his presence since she had awakened to find herself wrapped around him like a clinging vine. It was difficult to remember how close and comfortable she'd felt with him the night before. Everything seemed so different in the sobering light of day. Her behavior during the night suddenly struck her as aggressive and abandoned, and Caine's restraint no longer seemed touchingly protective, but more like an outright rejection!
She had rushed into the bathroom to shower and dress, and had stiffly resisted Caine's attempts to caress her. He'd given up with depress-ingly little resistance, and they'd gone downstairs to eat breakfast, only to have Caine recognized by a rabid football fan who'd arrived at the inn that morning. Juliet ate her breakfast in silence while Caine good-naturedly talked football with his admirer.
The tree was cleared from the road and they drove back to Charlottesville with no further delay. Caine hadn't pressed her to talk during the drive. He'd seemed content to play a country station at full volume, singing along when he knew the lyrics. And now here they were, back at her house, with her sisters almost upon them—and she didn't even know if he planned to see her again!
"Julie! Are you all right?" Olivia asked pointedly as she pulled open the car door.
"We've been so worried," added Miranda, shooting Caine a wary glance.
"You can see for yourselves that your sister is fine," he said dryly. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch Juliet's flushed cheek. She'd been so nervous around him this morning that even a simple caress would probably make her jump out of her skin.
He congratulated himself on his restraint of last night. Her behavior this morning had underscored his belief that she wasn't yet ready for the kind of relationship he wanted with her. Though they'd been incredibly close last night, she seemed to feel the need for distance between them this morning. He'd allowed her that distance and hadn't pressed her to talk or touch.
Juliet felt her every nerve tighten. Was Caine going to let her walk away without even mentioning when they would see each other again? A close relationship with a man—with anyone other than her sisters—was new and uncharted territory for her. How did one know how much to give, how much to hold back? Last night Caine had told her he cared, but what did that mean?
Her eyes met and briefly held first Liwy's, then Randi's. She could almost read her sisters' thoughts. They were concerned for her, were feeling her tension, her apprehension. And then she turned to meet Caine Saxon's unfathomable amber gaze. If she only knew what he was thinking! It was so confusing, so frustrating. She could hold her own as part of a set of triplets, but as one lone woman in relation to one lone man, she felt hopelessly adrift.
She started to get out of the car to join her sisters, but Caine reached across the seat and grasped her wrist. Her heart jumped.
"Aren't you going to kiss me good-bye?" he asked. His voice was light.
Was he teasing her? she wondered. What kind of a response did he expect from her? She decided to play it safe and follow his lead. Light, teasing. "I thought you'd never ask," she replied in a tone that matched his, and leaned over to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.
"When am I going to see you again?" he asked, then swore silently. He hadn't meant to rush her. He wanted to give her the time and distance she needed, but once again he had blurted out his thoughts. He was disgusted with himself. What had happened to his much-heralded finesse? This was like playing in the Super Bowl without a game plan!
"I thought you'd never ask that, either," Juliet said. She laughed and hoped that she sounded light and breezy instead of immensely relieved.
"We have to spend all day tomorrow preparing the food for the Rivingtons' party tomorrow night, Julie," Miranda inserted dampeningly.
"And I'm tied up tonight," Caine said, and frowned. "I guess that leaves this afternoon."
Juliet resisted the urge to ask exactly how and why he was "tied up tonight." If he wanted her to know, he would tell her, she lectured herself. "Do you want to play some tennis this afternoon?" she asked. "I could reserve a court at the Y."
"I've never played tennis. It's always looked a bit too energetic for me." He smiled. "After the rigors of training camp and the football season I decided a laid-back sport like golf was the one for me."
"I've never played golf."
"I'll teach you. And you can teach me tennis. I'll pick you up at one." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "And for future reference that's the way I expect to be kissed good-bye. No more of those sisterly pecks on the cheek."
Her cheeks a warm, glowing pink, Juliet climbed from the car and turned to hurry into the house. Caine pulled away from the curb with a jaunty toot of the horn.
"Tell us everything!" Miranda demanded as she and Olivia trailed Juliet inside.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Then why is your face redder than a tomato?" Olivia teased, her eyes gleaming. "You're crazy about him, aren't you, Julie?"
"Yes," she admitted softly.
"I think you're just plain crazy," Miranda said with a frown. "Julie, he's a Saxon. Remember all those things you've been saying about the Saxon brothers?"
Juliet didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. She drifted upstairs to her bedroom, leaving her sisters to stare after her, shaking their heads.
❧
Caine arrived promptly at one, wearing lemon yellow slacks and a blue, green, and yellow shirt. "I've never seen you quite so . . . colorful," Juliet said dryly, looking down at the white shorts, shirt, and sneakers she was wearing. "You're going to cut quite a figure on the tennis court."
"We're going golfing first. And you're supposed to be colorful for golf. For example, you should be wearing a lime green golf skirt with hot pink hippos on it and a shirt to match."
"Hot pink hippos?" She chuckled. "No thanks. I think I'll start a new trend and wear my tennis whites on the golf course."
They didn't go to the university-owned golf course that was open to the public, as Juliet had thought they would. Instead, Caine drove to Charlotteville's exclusive Farmington Country Club.
"I thought your blood had to be blue to be a member of this club," Juliet remarked as they pulled into the parking lot. There were quite a few families possessing old names and old money in Albemarle County, but the Saxons were not among them.
Caine grinned. "I merely showed them my four Super Bowl rings and I was in. I joined mainly for the golf. Sophia is the one who likes to come to all the social functions."
Juliet smiled sweetly. "I'm sure she does."
"What? No catty remarks about Sophia using the place as a hunting ground for the man of her dreams—an eighty-five-year-old millionaire with a weak heart?"
Juliet laughed. She thought Caine was right on target with that one, but she was too polite to say so. After all, Sophia was his sister.
Caine was an extremely popular member of the club, despite his lack of blue blood. Everyone spoke to him, from the caddies to the distinguished-looking older men in their outrageously colorful golf clothes to the female members of all ages. And Caine was friendly and natural with all of them, trading comments and quips with appealing ease.
No one seemed to notice her, Juliet thought, not even when Caine introduced her. It was strange to be so totally invisible. When she and her sisters were together heads turned, for the sight of identical triplets was an unusual and diverting one. And when the three of them were dressed alike jaws dropped.
Juliet felt the stirrings of unease. Caine had achieved admiration and attention on the basis of his ability as a football player and his own outgoing personality. She elicited admiration and attention simply because she'd been born one of three. On her own . . . She'd never really been on her own, she acknowledged. All through school, all through college, and now as an adult in her hometown, she was known as a Post triplet, an object of fascination.
But here at the country club no one knew she was a triplet. She was merely Caine Saxon's guest and, judging by the total indifference to which she was treated, a rather uninteresting guest at that.
"Hey, Caine, when are you going to bring Sherry Carson back?" a freckle-faced caddie of about fourteen asked him. "I still have the golf ball she autographed for me."
"Sherry dumped me," Caine replied cheerfully. "Sorry, kid, you'll just have to see her on TV."
"She was a lousy golfer, but man, oh man, what a body!" rhapsodized a slightly older caddie.
Juliet smiled bravely. Yes, Sherry Carson would have been an infinitely more interesting guest than the lone Juliet Post in her tennis whites.
"Tell the pro that I'm cutting in on his turf and giving a golf lesson today," Caine told the caddies as he chose some women's clubs for Juliet. He smiled at her. "Ready, honey?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." She was glad that Caine wasn't taking a caddie along with them. She'd heard enough about the charms of Channel 42's weather girl for one afternoon.
"Sherry Carson seems to have caused quite a stir here," she said casually as she and Caine walked out onto the links. At least she hoped she sounded casual and not jealous and insecure, which was the way she was feeling.
Caine laughed. "She sent the caddies' blood pressure rising by wearing the shortest, tightest golf skirt in the pro shop and a low-cut jersey, minus a bra. She flirted with everyone and made them promise to watch her weather forecast. I think Channel 42 had a sizable ratings' increase after Sherry's appearance here."
"I can imagine," Juliet murmured. It hurt to hear Caine talk about another woman, even jokingly. It hurt even to think of him here with another woman. But she wasn't the first woman in his life, and it was foolish to agonize over a past that she hadn't been part of. She might not be able to wow the caddies as Sherry had, but she could concentrate on learning how to play golf and on being a good companion.
And she did. All three of the Post sisters had a certain natural athletic ability—all were good swimmers and tennis players—and Juliet picked up the fundamentals of golf without much trouble.
"You've got a good, strong swing," Caine said after they'd played several holes. "With some practice you could be a really good player." He was clearly surprised by his own observation. He glanced at his watch. "It's nearly five o'clock. I never dreamed we'd stay out so long."
"Your golf lessons usually last a few minutes on the green and then a long time in the club's bar?" Juliet asked, teasing. She couldn't visualize
Sherry Carson bothering to learn to swing a nine iron or, worse, working up a sweat.
He grinned sheepishly. "Something like that. But you actually wanted to learn to play golf. You didn't once bat your eyes and ask 'Oooh, why are the balls white and not pretty colors?' or demand to sit in my lap and ride around in 'that cute little golf cart.' "
"Were you expecting me to?" she asked indignantly.
"Uh-huh. And I thought that when I'd put my arms around you to show you how to swing, you'd dissolve into mush and we'd end up necking on the fairway."
"Oh!" For a moment Juliet was too incensed to realize that he was teasing. Then she saw the glint of laughter in his eyes and advanced upon him in mock fury. "You'd better beat a strategic retreat, Saxon, before I club you with this club." She brandished her golf club like a machete.
Caine turned and ran off toward the clubhouse and Juliet chased him the whole way there, waving the club and calling out heinous threats. They drew quite a few stares from the more sedate golfers.
They were both breathless and laughing when Caine easily disarmed Juliet outside the door of the men's locker room. "I've decided to let you live," she informed him, "on the condition that you never again lump me into the vapid mush-on-the-fairway category."
His big hands closed over her shoulders and he stared down at her. The joking retort he'd been about to make died on his lips as he gazed at her flushed, upturned face. "I meant what I said about you becoming a good player," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "Will you come with me again? I'll bring my clubs along and play as I'm giving you pointers."
Somehow Juliet knew that this was something he had never said to Sherry Carson, or to any other woman. Caine Saxon was a serious athlete, and she guessed he didn't mix women with sports, not even in his leisure games.
"I'd like to," she said softly. She was exultant. "And now it's my turn to give you a lesson. A tennis lesson."
"I have to be at the restaurant by six. Our manager is off sick and I'm filling in for him." He stroked the slender curve of her neck as he spoke, and a shower of sensual sparks seemed to glow within her. "How about tomorrow?"
"I can't. We have to spend the day cooking for the Rivingtons' party tomorrow night." She sighed with real regret.
"What about tomorrow morning? Can't you escape for just an hour or two?"
His persistence thrilled her. "Maybe." She considered it. "Oh, well, why not? My sisters can spare me for a little while. From nine to ten-thirty?"
"Great! I'll pick you up at twenty of nine. We'll come here. There's a beautiful set of tennis courts on the other side of the clubhouse."
She nodded her agreement. "And wear white," she warned him. "I'll have to wash and iron my white shorts and shirt for tomorrow."
"Don't you have one of those little tennis dresses with the cute ruffled panties?" His hands settled on her waist, only to slide over her hips to cup her rounded bottom.
Juliet slipped out of his reach. There were too many people coming and going, and Caine Saxon was too well known by all of them. "Poor Caine," she teased. "How I've disappointed you! No lime green golf skirt with hot pink hippos today, and no ruffled panties tomorrow."
She tilted her head slightly to one side and grinned up at him, her blue eyes bright with laughter. Caine felt desire rise within him with shockingly swift, explosive force. She was cute and flirtatious and he wanted her. He'd actually had fun teaching her to putt, chip, and swing this afternoon. She'd been a good student, learning fast. . . and he wanted her. Everything about her appealed to him, attracted him. He wanted her, all of her, her sweet body and her laughter and her love.
He started toward her, oblivious to the people going in and out of the men's and women's locker rooms.
"Caine, look!" Juliet suddenly whispered, halting him, and he followed the direction of her gaze.
A rather large, sixty-ish matron was entering the clubhouse wearing—what else?—a lime green golf skirt printed with hot pink hippos. Caine and Juliet looked at each other and exchanged secret, conspiratorial grins. They left the clubhouse holding hands and walked the whole way to the car, talking and laughing, with their fingers tightly interlaced.
