by Cajio, Linda
She wished she could keep her image of James, that one of a self-centered playboy who kissed a young girl and threw her away afterward without a word. For years she had lived on that harsh image, unforgiving of one kiss. She wondered now if she had married the first playboy who came along to give herself a dose of reality in case she ever wavered toward James.
“Naaa, marrying Ellis was just plain old stupidity,” she muttered, tossing the pillow aside.
Unfortunately, Ellis wasn’t her problem. James was. James was a lot more of a problem. And that was the problem.
Anne groaned, holding her head in her hands. She had never felt so confused in her life. James wasn’t the James she’d thought he was. James was caring and concerned. He had a sense of honor not much seen in this world. And he was fun. She knew words like shallow, vain, narcissistic, and conceited just didn’t apply. He had flaws. He was stubborn beyond belief, bossy, and argumentative. And yet he was perfect. And she was coming to love perfect.…
She pushed herself off the sofa, refusing to continue the thought. Her mind wasn’t ready to accept, not yet. Her heart, however, was more than ready.
As she went into the kitchen, she half wished she’d gone with the others. But she did need this time to herself, even though it was hardly peaceful. By the time she’d pecked through a scant meal, she was more restless than ever. Tibbs, who had followed her, got most of the salad, not his favorite.
She was about to clean up the few dirty dishes when Tibbs lifted his head. The dog slowly rose to his feet as a low growl sounded in the back of his throat. A curl of true fear churned in her stomach at the dog’s reaction.
Someone was outside.
But Tibbs did no more, which meant he knew who or what was there. She jumped when the knock came at the back door, then immediately calmed herself. It was probably one of the guys with some problem that required her attention. Maybe she hadn’t been fibbing about a large number of foals after all. That would be nice.
Still, she couldn’t help wondering if James was right to be so worried. She shook her head and walked to the door. Cloak-and-dagger stuff was for the witching hour, not the Cosby half-hour. She whisked open the door and stared at the visitor on the threshold.
“May I come in?” James asked.
The silence was deafening.
Finally Anne found her voice. “But you’re supposed to be at dinner … Where’s Grandmother and Philip?”
“At dinner,” he said. “I … well, let’s just say I wasn’t hungry. May I come in?”
James forced himself to smile nonchalantly. He wasn’t sure of his welcome, but he was sure of his purpose. The farther he had driven away from Makefield Meadows, the more he’d known he shouldn’t. Lettice’s constant speculation on the who and how of Battle Cry’s diet of steroids had only strengthened his desire to return to the farm.
“I told you I would be fine,” Anne said, aware the fire was surfacing in her.
He shrugged. “I know. I’m being paranoid. It’s my life’s work from which I cannot be thwarted. May I come in, or do you plan to leave me staring at a door all night?”
After a moment she stepped aside. “I suppose.”
“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me,” he said, entering the kitchen.
“Take what you can get and be grateful.”
He would, he decided. Right now he was grateful she hadn’t slammed the door in his face. The feeling of something about to happen hadn’t abated now that he was here. His instincts were still on the same track.
“Coffee?” she asked, walking over to the counter.
He nodded, then took off his coat and hung it on one of the rack pegs. “I didn’t expect to find you at the house. In fact, I went up to the foaling stable first.”
She blushed, then laughed in embarrassment. “Promise you won’t tell Grandmother.”
“Promise,” he said, grinning. And he vowed he’d never tell her about his panic when Otis had told him he hadn’t seen her all evening and didn’t expect to.
“I hope your grandmother won’t mind that I skipped out,” Anne said as she filled a mug with coffee. “I needed some time to myself.”
“I doubt she’ll notice. She’ll be too busy thinking up ways to punish me for committing the ultimate sin of rudeness.” He sat down. “I showed up, kissed her hello and then kissed her good-bye.”
“You are in trouble.” She sat opposite him and added, “I’m not sure whose grandmother is worse for propriety, yours or mine.”
“Mine,” James said, liking the way her hair just brushed her shoulders. And the way her breasts were enhanced by the pale yellow sweater: He forced himself to remember their conversation. “My grandmother always thought Emily Post was an upstart. I could never get away with anything less than ‘proper’ with her. It seems now like we fought continually over what I should be doing when I was a teenager. But she taught me a sense of Tightness and fair play. I love her dearly.”
“I—I always thought you were a social goody two-shoes, James.”
He laughed. “Hardly. Ask my grandmother.”
She looked as if she didn’t believe him. He grinned, wondering what she had thought of him all these years. He did attend a lot of high society functions, but because of the potential for investors. He could almost pick and choose his partners, and that was part of his success in putting together profitable syndicates. It was ironic that someone might think he was a social butterfly.
“How will Grandmother and Philip get home?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t leave them to walk. My grandmother’s car will bring them.”
She nodded. The room became quiet.
“Why did you go to California all those years ago?” he asked.
The air was suddenly charged with a strange tension, and her expression became wary. He hadn’t expected that kind of reaction to his question.
“Because,” she said, and paused. “Because I wanted to race, and that was where the racing opportunities were.”
“Why did you marry that movie producer, Ellis Crawford?” It was a question he had meant never to ask, but it had been a burning one lately. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Her gaze was as no-nonsense as her voice. “But you probably know already, through the grandmothers.”
He nodded. He did know something of her marriage through the grapevine. “So why not tell me anyway?”
She snorted, an unladylike sound that didn’t detract from the lady she was. “It’s no big deal. I was attracted to him because of his interest in horses. He owned several. But what I thought was common ground between us was only a tax shelter for his movie earnings. He seemed so caring at first, but later I learned he just knew how to stroke the emotions and the ego. Actually, that’s what makes him a good producer. He knows what to do to smooth over dissension. But he didn’t give a damn about anybody but himself. He married me because he thought I made him look good with ‘Old Money.’ And because marriage kept him ‘safe’ with his affairs.” She ran her finger around the rim of her mug, then shrugged. “I hadn’t realized that at the time. And then when Philip’s hearing problem was discovered, Ellis decided his own son was an embarrassment for not being … perfect. I stayed too long in the marriage. Until it was almost too late for Philip.”
She looked so vulnerable. Protective urges rose in him. She was blaming herself too much, not seeing that she had been trying to make a marriage and a family. His Annie was very good at guilt, he thought with silent amusement.
“Philip is well-adjusted, so you didn’t stay too long,” he said. “There was no easy solution, but you did the best you could to make a family. That’s not a bad thing, Anne.”
She cleared her throat. “I hope so.”
“I was sorry when I heard you married Crawford. I was sorry you married anybody.”
Her eyes widened. “You were … sorry?”
“Yes. I was sorry.” He smiled. “I think I was in l
ove with you even then.”
She looked about as shocked at the words as he felt at saying them. But he’d said them. Finally and at last he’d said them. The tension had transferred to him now as he waited for her reaction. Any reaction—as long as it was the right one.
“I … Oh, dammit all, I’m going out to check that everyone’s bedded down for the night.” She shoved back her chair, grabbed her jacket, and headed outdoors.
Her reaction could have been worse, he decided, feeling slightly deflated as he got up to follow her. And it could have been a hell of a lot better.
Once they were outside, they didn’t talk about what he’d said. They didn’t talk about anything at first, and then only about horses. Battle Cry, in particular.
They walked next to each other, not touching. He was afraid to touch her. He wanted a response of emotions and commitment, not a purely physical one. That awkwardness he’d felt weeks earlier with her was growing again. He had no control over it, and he couldn’t stop it.
Dammit, he thought as they returned to the house. Everything was secure, and not a single villain had jumped out from the bushes to attack them. He was almost ready for that. It beat the heck out of waiting for Anne to say something more than “Dammit all” to his declaration of love. Instead, he was becoming more and more positive that she was trying to think of a nice way to reject him. Half of him wanted to take his words back, and the other half was glad they were out. Bitterly, he admitted at least he wouldn’t be rejected for his dyslexia. He hadn’t even gotten around to telling her about that.
“Well, everything looks quiet,” she said, hanging her jacket on the peg. She kept her back to him.
James decided he’d have one last discussion with her, even if it killed him. He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Anne, we have to talk …”
The words trailed away when he felt the unique sensation of her flesh under his palm, sensed the turmoil inside her, and saw the raw need on her face. His control shattered.
He pulled her into his kiss.
Ten
His mouth was hot and drugging, and her own blossomed instantly at the first touch of his lips. Any thought of resistance was gone. The kiss was like an explosion of every repressed urge she’d ever experienced. He had said the most surprising, the most devastating, and the most confusing things to her tonight. Things she’d never even allowed herself to think of; things she was still afraid to face—and wanted so much. She could resist everything but love.
The kiss, instead of intensifying, gradually softened. The primitive passion was still there, but was fading into the background momentarily. She felt poised on the edge of a precipice. She had heard the words. Now she had to feel the truth of them—just for herself. She was old enough to know the difference between sex and love. Earlier tonight she hadn’t wanted to face her feelings for James. Now she knew the time for denial was long over.
James lifted his head. Smiling, he tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, the gesture loving and sensual in the same moment. “Annie …”
“Dammit, James, but I love you,” she whispered, then sighed and relaxed against him. “You make me crazy.”
He grinned. “You’ve been making me crazy all of my life.”
“Good.” She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.
“As long as you’re happy.” His voice was oddly breathless. She smiled just before his lips found hers again.
The last of the restraints broke with the security of the second kiss. His hands slipped under her sweater to find her flesh, his strong fingers pulling, tugging … cupping. She moaned into his mouth as the blackness closed in on her.
She wasn’t thinking any longer. She was desperate only to feel—feel the sensations of his mouth everywhere on her flesh, his muscles under her hands, his hips cradled intimately in hers. She had wanted him for a long time, and she had fought the Tightness of it until she’d finally been trapped by it.
Suddenly he pulled away and lifted her into his arms. Dizzy and surprised by the sudden movement, she clutched at his shoulders and opened her eyes. He walked purposefully out of the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Carrying you up to the bedroom.”
She considered the idea. “Okay.”
“Anne, we really have to work on your enthusiasm level.”
She kissed his jaw, the taste of him better than the finest wine.
“Then again, maybe not,” he murmured.
She snuggled against his chest. “Did I ever tell you that you were perfect?”
“No. Am I?”
“Absolutely.”
“Forget I said anything about your enthusiasm level. It’s fine, just fine … don’t do that when I’m carrying you.”
She smiled and undid another button on his shirt. She slipped her fingers inside, threading them through the swath of hair on his chest.
“Go ahead, keep not listening to me,” he said, kissing her temple.
He climbed the stairs at a speed that seemed unwise, somehow managing not to step on Tibbs, who was padding alongside them. At the top he stopped and said to the dog, “No! Stay!”
Tibbs sat down and stared at him. Anne smothered a chuckle at James’s smile of victory. Then to her surprise, he walked unerringly into her bedroom.
She straightened in his arms. “How did you know?”
“I made it a point to,” he said cryptically, kicking the door shut.
He laid her on the bed, coming down on top of her. The long-suppressed passion roared back like a tidal wave, devastating and unstoppable. His mouth was a hot fire, pulling her into its all-consuming heat. Their tongues dueled and mated. Hands worked busily as clothes became encumbering and unnecessary. Her sweater was peeled from her slowly, and he strung kisses across every inch of revealed flesh. Need coursed through her in waves that overwhelmed her sanity. She pushed his shirt away, reveling in the feel of his heated skin.
She was already aching for his touch, and she groaned when his thumb skimmed over one tightening nipple. She twisted beneath him, desperate to feel all of him. She wanted more, but he continued to torture her with kisses that encircled the upper slopes of her breasts.
“James, please,” she whispered, guiding his mouth to a diamond-hard point.
His lips enclosed her, branding her flesh like no other had. Her blood was pulsing through her veins as a hot need tightened in her belly. She didn’t know if she could survive this tender torment, and she didn’t care. She only knew that this was James, and she loved him. She needed him, needed to feel all of him against her … inside her.
James tried to hang on to some semblance of control. He had waited so long for this, and he wanted to stretch out every second to an unforgettable crescendo. But she was writhing under him, stroking his back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her skin was like silk, compelling a man to touch it in wonder over and over again. And her mouth … The sweet flame she created with lips and tongue was enough to send him over the edge. All admonishments of gentleness and finesse flew out of his head. This was Annie, and she was finally his. Need and desire drove him to brand every inch of her, to do it now, before this gift was gone.
The rest of their clothes were shed, and secret places were revealed, stroked, and worshiped. She found the shape of him. He found her heated depths. She took him into the cradle of her hips, their bodies pressing their lengths one against the other. She took him farther, until he was inside her completely, totally, possessing all of her even as she possessed him.
And then it began, the age-old movements of nature that too often meant too little, and this time meant so much. Higher and harder love drove them with its demands, until it shattered with a piercing light, hurling them both into the gentle oblivion.
Reluctantly, Anne surfaced to reality. James’s weight was heavy, yet she felt content. His arms were secure around her, holding her in a way that left her breathless and satisfied. She felt giddy a
nd shy, happy and nervous all at the same time. She had no idea where this would now take her, but she knew she had to trust it—trust James. In some ways she had always trusted him. The impossible had happened … and she was scared to death it wouldn’t last.
He kissed her shoulder and shifted slightly, giving her room to breathe. She sighed, both grateful and disappointed.
“I love you,” he mumbled.
She chuckled. “I love you.”
He nuzzled the soft column of her throat, the curve of her collarbone, the sensitive hollow just under her ear.…
“James.” Her voice was faint. “Philip … Grandmother … They’ll be back soon.”
He glanced at the clock on her bedside table and groaned. “Damn!”
She laughed and lightly smoothed her hands down his back.
“I have a feeling I’m not going to like stolen moments for long,” he said, raising his head.
He knew he should tell her about himself, but something held him back. If this moment were an illusion, he wanted to keep it just a little longer.
In the darkness he sensed more than saw her smile.
“I … this is all so new … and yet it’s not,” she said.
“I know.” He had never thought of her as shy, yet she was now. Anne would always have unexpected facets to her, facets he would delight in finding. He hadn’t meant for this to happen tonight, but he hated the thought of leaving her at this moment. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Feeling her body soft and supple against his was tempting him to steal a few more minutes with her.
“I should go,” he said, tracing his finger around one rosy nipple. It tightened instantly.
“Yes.”
“I love you, Annie.”
“I love you, James.” She ran her palms over his shoulders and down his back in an exquisite caress.
He shuddered at her touch and kissed her … and kissed her again.…
Anne’s sleep was slowly and relentlessly penetrated by two things. There was a horse sitting on her chest, squeezing the breath from her. And voices were chattering away, not close but close enough to be annoying.