She shook her head, unable to speak because her heart was crowding into her throat, blocking it.
He sank slowly to his knees in the sand, but he didn’t touch her. He didn’t trust himself to. He had seen her hunger and approval as she looked at him. Now he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers beneath the maddening French cut of her bathing suit and caress her deeply, discovering if her body was half as ready as her eyes had been.
“I’d like to show you how beautiful you are,” he said.
“But I’m not.”
“You are to me.”
One of his hands wrapped around both of her wrists. Slowly he raised her arms over her head and bent down to her.
“Billy will—” she began.
“He’s playing in the waves. Even if he looked this way, he couldn’t see through me.”
Cain’s glance moved from her face to her slender neck to the gentle swell of her breasts. His free hand followed the line of his gaze, approaching her breasts.
Suddenly she understood that he was going to touch her and this time she wouldn’t be able to prevent it.
“But—you can’t!”
“Oh, but I can.”
“I’ll scream.”
“I’ll tell Billy how ticklish you are.”
Lightly he ran his fingernails over the smooth garnet fabric where it was drawn tightly over her ribs. His hand stopped just short of intimacy.
“Unless you’d rather explain to me why you don’t like having your breasts touched,” he offered.
Her cheeks flamed with a combination of embarrassment and anger. “You know why.”
“All men aren’t like your ex-husband.”
Cain’s fingers moved in a light, maddening circle around her breast, just avoiding the soft flesh. But with each word he spoke, the circle became smaller, and then smaller still.
“Some of us prefer quality to quantity.” He smiled at her gently. “If you don’t believe me, ask a baby. Any more than a mouthful is wasted.”
His hand closed around her breast caressingly.
She could have twisted away. He would have let her. She knew it, and so did he.
She didn’t move. She was held by the hunger and approval in his eyes, his voice, his touch.
“Definitely more than a mouthful,” he said. Then, almost roughly, “God, how I would love to prove it!”
She felt the desire that went through him like an electric current, shaking him. He closed his eyes and turned away for a moment, but his hand still caressed her.
An involuntary tremor took her, arching her into his touch. When he felt her nipple tighten, he made a deep sound of pleasure and need. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her swimsuit.
“Cain, you—I—shouldn’t—Billy—” She gave up trying to speak.
“It’s all right.” He captured the tip of her breast with his fingertips. “Billy is out there waiting for a wave and everybody else has gone home.”
“But—”
“Hush, mink. Let me show you how little size counts between a man and a woman.”
Shelley gasped when she felt her breast released from the garnet cloth. Abruptly she felt helpless, wholly vulnerable, afraid. She turned her face away, certain she would see only disappointment in his.
“Now do you believe me?” she asked through her teeth.
“I believe you’re a fool.”
Her head whipped around. He was looking at her naked breast with the kind of pleasure she had never expected to see in a man’s eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he said huskily. “Can’t you see how perfect you are?”
She looked down at herself and saw only what she had always seen. Breast too small to interest a man.
Then Cain bent down to her and taught her how to see herself as he did.
Beautiful.
She quivered at the delicious brush of his mustache against her nipple. She heard him whispering against her skin and savored the heat of his breath caressing her.
But most arousing of all was the desire that had drawn his body like a bow. He had meant every word he said about finding her beautiful. His body was proving it in the most unmistakable way.
A hot flower began unfolding deep inside her, melting her inhibitions.
“I shouldn’t,” he said, lifting his head slightly. His eyes fastened on her ruby-tinted nipple. “But I have to. Just one taste. Please . . .”
She shivered again, watching his mouth.
His hand closed more tightly around her wrists, yet it was more from passion than from any thought of restraining her. She hadn’t fought him before.
She wasn’t fighting him now.
Hungrily he bent down to her again.
Shelley gasped as the tip of his tongue traced a circle where the smooth skin of her breast became the textured darkness of her nipple. Unknowingly she made a small, pleading sound, but it wasn’t freedom she asked for. She wanted a greater intimacy, a deeper holding.
He answered by imprisoning her within the changing pressures of tongue and teeth. Then he drew her deeply, repeatedly, into the caressing heat of his mouth until she arched beneath him and cried out her pleasure.
After a few sweet moments, Cain forced himself to release her breast. The peak glistened with moisture, a ruby hardness that flaunted her arousal. His teeth closed over her erect nipple with a fiercely restrained sensuality that made her twist against him, increasing the pressure of his touch.
Groaning in frustration at having to stop, he turned his head aside and pulled her bathing suit back into place with fingers that shook. Then he gathered her against his body, letting her feel the evidence of his own arousal.
“Any more questions about what it takes to turn this man on?” he asked raggedly
“N-no.” Like her body, her voice trembled with surprise and passion.
“Good, because I’m about an inch from taking you right here, right now, and answering a few questions of my own.”
He rolled aside and onto his feet in a single motion. Without looking at her again, he ran down to the sea and threw himself into the waves in a long, low dive.
Shelley lay motionless, too weak to move, passion like a drug in her body, outlining her nerves with fire. The breast that he had kissed ached sweetly, still hungry for his knowing mouth.
With a small sound she rolled over, fighting for control of her own body. She had so little experience with passion that she felt like a stranger caught inside a network of fire, her own nerves burning her alive.
A few minutes later, the trembling finally stopped and the hungry flower inside her folded in upon itself once more, hiding its satin heat deep within her. Taking a long, ragged breath, she stood up and went to work on dinner.
By the time Billy and Cain came in from the water, she had set out relishes, soft drinks, and potato chips, and was turning a long-handled fork loaded with hotdogs over the dancing yellow flames. Buns were balanced on the fire ring so that they would be warm. Except for an occasional tremor whenever she remembered what it had been like to be caressed by his beautiful mouth, she was in control of herself again.
But the fire was cooler than her memories and much cooler than Cain’s eyes as he watched her bend over the flames.
“You should have stayed in the ocean,” Billy said, scattering sand and cold drops of water with equal enthusiasm. “The waves were perfect and the water was really warm. At least seventy, I’ll bet.”
“Not as warm as my pool,” she said, putting a hotdog into a toasted bun. “Here you are.”
“You have a pool?” the boy asked.
“Complete with its own waterfall.”
Billy slathered mustard and catsup over the innocent hotdog.
“Waves, too?” he asked.
“Only when I do a cannonball.”
He looked at Shelley’s slender body and shook his head forcefully.
“You need more weight to do a good cannonball. You’re too, uh . . .”
“Skinny
?” she suggested with a wry twist to her mouth.
“You’re just right for you. Any more and you’d droop around the edges, like Mother before she goes on another diet.”
Cain made a heroic effort not to laugh.
It wasn’t quite enough.
He concentrated on rummaging in the ice chest for beer while his shoulders shook. When he glanced up, Shelley couldn’t evade his brilliant gray eyes and the silent, laughing message.
Any more than a mouthful is wasted.
Color climbed her cheeks. Her mouth twitched as she fought against secret amusement. Finally she gave up and laughed out loud.
Billy looked up from eating his incredibly messy hotdog, smiled, and attacked the oozing remains. Then, without a pause, he consumed three more hotdogs, a whole bag of potato chips, and three soft drinks.
In stunned surprise Shelley watched the lanky boy power through food. She looked away from the sight only when Cain offered her a third hotdog for herself.
“No, thanks,” she said, smiling. “I wouldn’t want to, um, droop.”
He snickered, ate the hotdog himself, and then pulled a Frisbee out from under his beach towel. He faced his dinner companions with a challenging smile.
Billy jumped up immediately, his face alight with anticipation. Shelley was slower, but still game. The three of them fanned out over the sand in an unequal triangle. Without warning, Cain bent his arm across his body at waist level, then quickly straightened it and snapped his hand forward.
The white Frisbee sailed fast and clean to Billy, who scooped it up and sent it flying toward Shelley. She surprised them by snatching it out of the air and sending it in a flat, sizzling curve back to Cain.
Billy gave a whoop of admiration and a thumbs-up signal. Then the three of them settled in and ran one another ragged. She laughed and jumped and sprinted, feeling like a child herself.
But Shelley remembered she was a woman when Cain leaped high to catch the elusive Frisbee. For an instant his sun-burnished body defied gravity. Then, he landed lightly on the sand, his body coiled around the plastic saucer, and he released it in a powerful surge that made her mouth go dry.
For a while the Frisbee flew like a wild moon orbiting between three planets. Around them, surrounding them with light and color, southern California’s huge summer sun drifted slowly toward the water.
Finally it was too dark to judge the saucer’s flight any longer. Cain leaped high into the air, rescuing the toy from certain drowning in the rushing indigo sea.
Shelley knew she would remember that moment for the rest of her life, his body suspended against the radiant twilight like a wave before the instant of breaking, and then the inevitable descent, as smooth and powerful as the ocean itself.
“Great catch, Uncle Cain!”
He waved the Frisbee, but didn’t send it toward his nephew. Instead, he walked toward Shelley, watching her with eyes the color of twilight. When he held out his hand, she took it without hesitation. The warmth of his fingers threading between hers made her whole body tighten with pleasure. He gave her a look of approval that was a caress in itself.
“Graceful as a mink, too,” he said.
“Flattery will get you a toasted marshmallow.”
“I can think of something sweeter.”
She met his eyes for an instant, then looked away. The sensual teasing both pleased and unsettled her.
“Uncle Cain?” called Billy. “Just a few more?”
“Nope. It’s marshmallow time.” Cain’s voice carried clearly across the twilight.
His look told Shelley that he wanted her more than any dessert.
“Here,” he said, handing the fork and bag of marshmallows to Billy. “You be the chef.”
“I’ll set them on fire.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Grinning, the boy stuffed marshmallows onto the fork and held it in the heart of the fire. Everyone ate the charred results without a whimper. Shelley wouldn’t have cared if she were eating sand. All she could really taste was the memory of Cain’s tongue moving over hers. The heat radiating from him was a temptation and a revelation, like sitting close to a gently burning sun.
“Cold?” he asked, seeing her tiny shiver.
“With you right next to me? Impossible.”
He touched her cheek in a brief caress. She looked at his eyes and knew that he wanted to wrap his warmth around her and hold her close.
Just hold her.
When he put his arm across her shoulders and cradled her against his body, she felt an irresistible sense of homecoming. Putting her cheek against his chest, she relaxed with a sigh.
“More?” Billy asked, looking up from the ash-covered marshmallow fork.
“No thanks,” she said.
“Uncle Cain?”
“No way,” he said, laughing quietly. “My mustache will never come unstuck as it is.”
“Try lighter fluid,” the boy suggested. “It works on bubble gum, anyway.”
“Yuck. How can you stand the taste of that stuff?”
“Lighter fluid?”
“Bubble gum.”
Billy laughed at his uncle, then looked down at the half-filled bag of marshmallows. “You guys sure you don’t want any more?”
“We’re sure,” Cain and Shelley said together.
“Okay.”
Calmly, Billy began cramming marshmallows onto the fork. For every one that was squeezed on, another went down his throat. Obviously he didn’t intend to stop eating the sticky sweets until he reached the bottom of the bag.
Shelley made an involuntary sound of dismay.
“Don’t worry,” Cain said. “I used to do the same thing when I was his age. I survived.”
“Who held your head while you threw up?”
She felt the vibration of his silent laughter beneath her cheek.
“No one. Seth always made it clear that damn fools cleaned up after themselves.”
“Have you told your nephew?”
Though her voice was deliberately soft, Billy heard. He looked up from the fire and grinned.
“The first thing Uncle Cain said when he asked me on the picnic was that he wouldn’t tell me what to eat if I wouldn’t expect him to play nurse afterward.”
“Was your mother in on the bargain?” Shelley asked.
Instantly she wished that she had bitten her tongue before she said anything about JoLynn. Relaxation and pleasure vanished from Billy’s face, replaced by a mask that was too old and too emotionless to belong to a boy.
“Mother has a party in San Francisco. She won’t be back tonight.”
“Billy agreed to baby-sit me,” Cain said easily. “He knows I’m not used to big-city life. In exchange, I’m going to take him out on his dirt bike as soon as I find a good place.”
“There are some rough dirt roads near my home,” Shelley said, seizing the change of subject. “Old fuel breaks and such. I’ve heard trail bikes out there before. Is that the kind of thing you’re looking for?”
The mask fell away as Billy looked eagerly toward his uncle.
Cain smiled. She felt his approval in the subtle, hidden caress of his fingers along the inside of her arm.
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
“Oh, boy! Tomorrow?”
Cain nodded.
“Just be sure you have spark guards on,” Shelley said, “or whatever they call them. You know—the gizmo that keeps exhaust sparks from setting fires. The brush is really dry at this time of year.”
“Billy?” Cain asked.
“Dad wouldn’t let me out of the garage without a spark arrester. And a regulation muffler, too,” he grumbled, “even though it cuts down on the power.”
“Then all we need is another bike for Shelley.”
“Wrong,” she said quickly. “I’m strictly passenger material, and on city streets at that. You’ll be better off without me.”
Long fingers tightened on her arm. Cain’s head bent until his lips brushed
her ear. He spoke too softly for Billy to hear above the crackle of flames.
“There’s no way I’d be better off without you.”
“Your nephew needs a little undivided ‘man’ time,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek lightly against his chest. Then she added in a normal tone, “I’ll be glad to feed the conquering heroes. What’s your favorite dinner, Billy?”
“Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and chocolate cake. Uh, if it isn’t too much trouble?”
She tried not to smile at his hopeful expression. “Not at all. How about you, Cain? Any additions?”
“Fresh lemonade.”
She gave him a startled look.
“There aren’t many lemon trees in the Yukon,” he explained.
There was a sudden flare of light. Billy’s forgotten marshmallows were burning like a cascade of falling stars.
After a few futile attempts to blow out the fire, he jumped up and ran down to the water, waving the marshmallow fork around like a sword. The accidental torch burned brightly against the black sea. Sounds of a fierce battle floated back as the boy slew dragon after dragon until his marshmallow weapon burned out.
Shelley laughed softly, remembering what it was like to be young and have a world full of safely exciting demons to tame.
“That’s quite a nephew you have.”
“Yes,” Cain said simply, bending to brush his lips over her hair. “And you’re quite a woman. Can you ride a dirt bike?”
“It’s been a long time. When I first came here, I couldn’t afford a car, so I bought a motorcycle. Sometimes I kind of miss it. Especially when it isn’t raining and I don’t have to show up looking like a fashion plate for an appointment.”
“Billy wouldn’t mind if you came along tomorrow.”
She shook her head, sending a fall of silky hair over Cain’s arm.
“I don’t know anything about off-road biking except that it takes more skill and strength than city streets,” she said.
“I’ll bet you’re up to it.”
“I’ll find out some other time. Billy is enjoying a chance to be with his uncle. You’re a hero to him. You can see it in his eyes when he watches you.”
A long finger caressed her jawline before settling under her chin, tilting her face up to his lips. The kiss was gentle, a butterfly touch of warmth and sweetness.
Where the Heart Is Page 12