by Carol Rose
Taking her hand, he drew her down the steps and away from the driveway, into the junglelike grounds of Oakleigh.
"Where are we—?"
"Shh," he hushed her, weaving his fingers more snugly with hers.
He had to have cat eyes, she thought as he led her down a path she could hardly detect. At first, she walked hesitantly, not wanting to be tripped up as her sandals caught in stray vines. But gradually she grew less cautious. Cole seemed to know the path as if he'd walked it his whole life.
They crossed what had once been the front gardens of Oakleigh, seeming to skirt the shadowy hulk of the plantation house. When Cole drew her out of the sheltering trees, they stood on the thick grass between the house and the dark shape of the pool where ornamental fish had once swum.
The lights of the mansion were totally dark. It seemed eerily empty of life, the wide galleries suddenly peopled only by ghosts. Elinor let Cole tow her toward the house, balking only as he mounted the shallow steps.
He turned back to her. "Come dance with me."
"Here?" she hissed in a low voice.
"Yes."
"My grandfather—?"
"Can't hear much even when he's awake," her tempter pointed out irrefutably as he drew her up the steps.
"Well, what about Charlie?" Elinor tried again, maintaining a whisper.
Cole held her in the darker shadow of a huge column, his hands warm on her bare shoulders. "Charlie and I have an understanding," he claimed softly, drawing her into his arms.
"What?"
"He's out drinkin' and whorin'."
She felt Cole's soundless chuckle and suddenly had to repress her own spurt of mirth. The image of Charlie being dissolute was too priceless.
The huge gallery shadowed them, the worn brick floor smooth beneath their feet as Cole drew her into his arms. He began a slow, easy waltz, leading her with his body. They moved between light and dark, dancing into faint moonlight between the massive pillars. She'd never been a slouch on the dance floor, but no man had ever matched her steps so perfectly.
The sweetness of early roses perfumed the air as they swayed, Cole's body sure and graceful as he led their steps. The agitated pulse in her veins jumped a notch as the heat from his body brushed against hers.
The utter absence of human interruption lent an isolated magic to the air. Nature's night sounds took center stage and gave them music, rising and dropping as if joining the dance. Cole held her securely, their steps never faltering as he waltzed her along the gallery.
Elinor felt her mouth go dry. The male scent of him enveloped her as he drew nearer, her skirt brushing his legs. She felt a throbbing ache rise up in her body, an ancient call. Swallowing hard, she focused on the movement of their dance.
As they dipped and swayed, slowly circling the great house, Elinor let herself slip back in time. In her imagination, the house was suddenly alight with a thousand candles, music coming clearly through the doors, opened widely onto the gallery.
Outside, horses stood idle, waiting to draw their masters' carriages back home when the ball had ended. Inside, gaily dressed ladies swept around the room on the arms of their lovers.
Laughter was everywhere, and light, and the voices of people falling in love.
Cole's arm tightened around her waist. "I've always wanted to do this."
"Dance around a plantation house?" she whispered back, agonizingly aware of her breasts lightly brushing his jacket.
"No," he replied. "Dance with you."
Their steps whispered against the brick floor as Elinor's heart thudded against her breastbone. He was magic, leading her into her deepest fantasies where only their bodies held the music.
His steps slowed as he lowered his head, his lips brushing hers gently at first, then with agonizing eroticism. He made no attempt to deepen the kiss, concentrating instead on the softness of her mouth as if enchanted by its shape.
Elinor felt enfolded, held firm in his powerful arms. Her breath seemed trapped in her chest, as if drawing in air would chase away the blinding splendor of his kiss. Sensation splintered through her, her brain receptors jumbling the messages of his arousing scent together with the crush of his jacket beneath her fingers.
His hands caressed her back, warm through the thin cotton of her sundress, as a rush of emotion erupted in the pit of her stomach. Still swaying to their silent music, Cole kissed her as if she were treasure, a discovery he intended to keep all to himself.
Lifting his head, he whispered, "You do strange things to me, Ms. Prescott."
Sliding his arm around her more tightly, Cole cuddled her close, their waltz becoming more shuffle than step.
Elinor stared up at him, her eyes wide in her dazed state. Every nerve ending in her body danced to Cole's tune, and caution had long since been thrown to the winds.
His long fingers stroked her bare arm as they swayed together. Elinor's eyes closed as his touch washed over her. She felt him brush a kiss against her temple, a tantalizing caress.
Still, they swayed, Cole directing their movement as his hands stroked her back and arms. A subtle, powerful hunger vibrated in his body. She felt it in the bunched muscles of his shoulder and heard his swiftly indrawn breath when he pulled her against him.
They rounded the house again, once more on the uninhabited side near the dark pool. In a sudden fluid motion, Cole moved away from the house, toward the edge of the gallery. Elinor felt the cool hardness of column behind her back just as he bent his head to hers.
There was nothing gentle in this kiss. Pure hunger drove them along with an aching, desperate need. The emotions between them held such power, and yet stood on such shaky ground. She felt it in the flavor of his kiss, his recognition of their tenuousness. Elinor tasted determination, too, a bull-headed persistence in the sweep of his tongue against hers.
Cole wasn't used to losing battles.
Elinor arched her neck, lifting her hands up to slide through his hair. She needed to be in his arms, to feel his powerful craving for her.
Kissing hungrily, their hands roamed, fondling, caressing longed-for flesh. Cole urged her arms up closer around his neck, his bent elbows caging her breasts against his chest. He moved against her, groaning in his throat with deep pleasure. With his movement, she felt the evidence of his desire.
He lowered one hand to cup her, his splayed fingers molding her breast gently through the fabric of her dress. Elinor's head dropped back against the pillar that bolstered her. Cole's hand circled her breast, fondling the orb with an elemental intensity as if her flesh were riches.
She felt herself burst into flames, the liquid heat at the juncture of her thighs a conflagration. Cole held her, one arm bracing against her back, as she allowed him his way with her body.
After long, hot moments punctuated by breathless matings of their mouths, he pulled away, staring down at her in the dim light.
"Come on," he muttered abruptly, tugging her bodily away from the column where she leaned.
Still gripped with paralyzing passion, Elinor allowed him to drag her toward the shallow gallery steps. Cole led her down the steps and across the lawn, the cool, thick grass tickling her sandal-clad toes.
As he towed her down the jungle-dark path to her cottage, his long strides ate up the distance, her wrist still imprisoned in his grip.
Hurrying to keep up with him as he strode through the night, the thick haze of passion began to drop away from Elinor. Her reservations about Cole came rushing into her clearing head.
How could she want him this bad when she didn't trust him? The thought shocked her into reality. He might have been plunging through the overgrown lawn planning on spending the night in her bed, but she knew it wouldn't happen.
His drive for more success, more money, put him in the same class as her grandfather and father. And she wouldn't let money govern her life as it did Cole's.
They reached the cottage in record time, Cole loosening his grip long enough to guide her onto the gallery step
. Settling his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her eyes.
"Elinor, you make me wild. Too wild to trust myself. I don't want us to do something you're not ready for." His splayed fingers slid up her arms. "And I sure hope to heck I get credit somewhere for my sacrifice."
She stared at him in confused disbelief. He wasn't planning on sleeping with her?
He leaned forward to deliver a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight."
~~~********~~~
Five
"I'm so glad you called on your way through town, Brad." Elinor smiled at her best friend's husband across the checkered tablecloth. "I talk to Julie on the phone every week, but you know how she is."
The sandy-haired man nodded and laughed. "You ask how she is and she says, 'fine,' even if she's dying."
"That's it," Elinor agreed. "And I know this pregnancy hasn't been easy for her."
"The doctor says she's okay now." Brad's face looked relieved as he picked up the menu. "She just needs to rest and avoid stress."
The restaurant was filled to capacity with a boisterous Friday-night crowd. Across the room, the band played a mix of zydeco and country music, all projected at high decibels.
Having made her selection from the menu, Elinor watched the ever-moving mass of people on the dance floor. She was grateful Brad had asked for a table away from the band. That way they had a chance at being able to carry on a conversation. And she definitely wanted to hear all the news.
Julie had been her best friend since college, and never had their long-distance friendship been more frustrating than now when Julie faced her first pregnancy.
Concentrating on Julie would also help Elinor put Cole out of her mind. Ever since last night, her mind had whirled with a jumble of thoughts, none of them productive.
She couldn't decide whether to be relieved or frustrated that Cole had decided to be noble. He'd been right to put a stop to their heated passion, she recognized. She certainly hadn't been making a rational decision about their involvement.
But that hadn't stopped her from tossing and turning in her bed the drumbeat of desire surging through her body, her mind racing with confusion.
On the surface, Cole didn't seem like a driven, success-obsessed man. From what she could tell, he wasn't a workaholic. But money polluted everything, everyone. She'd known that early on when her weak father and wealthy grandfather had parted ways over a plantation house and its accompanying fortune.
Every wealthy person she'd ever known had been governed to some degree, by their money. How could Cole be different?
Elinor had battled preoccupation all day, struggling to focus on some back work she needed to finish. So, when Brad called and asked her to have a bite of supper on his way through town, she had jumped at the offer. Anything to get away from her own thoughts.
After a waiter took their orders, she and Brad chatted above the music, catching up since she'd last visited with him and Julie.
After a moment, Brad sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table, and began an obviously reluctant interrogation.
"So, Julie wants to know about this guy you've been seeing."
Elinor had to chuckle at the look on his face. Clearly, her nosy friend had roped her husband into questioning her. "I'm not seeing anyone, Brad." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I told Julie that."
"She doesn't believe you." Brad loosened his tie with a harried expression. "She says you're upset about something and her woman's intuition tells her it's a man."
Elinor sipped her water, silently wishing her best friend's intuition to perdition. "I'm not upset," she reiterated, replacing her water glass on the table.
Brad leaned back with a sigh of relief. "I told her she was imagining things. But you know how it is. She's had to quit work and there's nothing much to do at home all day. She'll be fine once the baby's here."
The waiter brought their orders, refilled the glasses and hurried off into the crowd.
Just then the band ended a rowdy number and began playing a slow, lilting ballad. The song was one of Elinor's favorites and she had to kill the impulse to hum along.
Turning slightly in her chair to get a better view of the dance floor, she couldn't help thinking of Cole. The song's plaintive words told of finding a long-lost love and living happily into the sunset years.
The dancers shuffled past, some swaying gracefully, others bouncing along incongruously to their own beat. Elinor watched a particularly energetic couple, amused by their graceless enthusiasm as they cavorted along the edge of the dance floor.
Then her heart went still. Just beyond the couple, a man stood, his broad back to Elinor. In the dim, smoky light, she couldn't make out details beyond the gleam of soft light on his hair. But she didn't need to, she'd have recognized Cole in a dust storm.
More startled than anything, Elinor watched him. He stood at the edge of the dance floor, apparently talking to someone out of her range of vision. Then in a smooth movement, he swept his partner into the crowd.
It didn't matter that she had no claims on him, no right to feel jealousy. Nothing mattered, except that her heart was suddenly pounding and she could no longer hear the music over the roar in her ears.
Elinor watched them for long moments, wondering what he was doing here and whose company he'd sought tonight.
Cole swayed to the music, his long, lithe body moving in perfect rhythm. Elinor couldn't help remembering the feel of being held in his arms. Was he holding someone else as tenderly, as passionately as he'd held her?
With a graceful turn, Cole pivoted his partner so that Elinor could see his face . . . and identify the woman in his arms.
Norell Stephens, the mayor's daughter.
"These are really great ribs," Brad said, bent enthusiastically over his plate.
"Good," Elinor murmured, no longer pretending to eat. She couldn't have taken her eyes off Cole and Norell if she'd tried.
The petite brunette in his arms wore a black dress that outlined her voluptuous curves, moving sinuously as she danced. The dress had long sleeves and a bow at the back of her neck that held it together. Below the bow, Norell was bare to the waist.
Elinor had never before felt the urge to kill another woman, but she recognized the source.
Norell Stephens was the perfect other woman. Sophisticated, sexy, and obviously available. She cuddled up to Cole, her dark, perfectly permed hair swinging around her cheek as she laughed into his face.
Elinor's fingers curled into fists. Cole Whittier had no right to come into her life and seduce her with his laughter and his kisses while he was dancing attendance on another woman. Particularly when that woman was as responsive as Norell seemed to be at that moment.
In the two years that Elinor had lived in Bayville, she'd never seen cool, sophisticated Norell so animated. Her dark eyes clung to Cole's face as she moved, her hips swaying just a shade more than necessary.
Swinging her gaze away from Norell, Elinor watched Cole. He moved to the music as if it were a part of him, laughing down into Norell's face. There seemed nothing ambivalent about the picture. Anyone watching them could see that here were a man and a woman with eyes only for each other.
Betrayal sliced through Elinor's body and was quickly squelched to be replaced by anger. She'd been right from the beginning: Cole Whittier was a man who got what he wanted no matter how he had to go about it. With Mayor Stephens and his well-connected wife on Cole's side, he could do what he wanted in Bayville.
Elinor supposed that even millionaires had to make sacrifices to get what they wanted, but Cole didn't look like he was suffering.
"Is there something wrong with your food?" Brad asked solicitously as he wiped his mouth.
"Uh, no," Elinor responded. "I'm just not very hungry."
"We could order something else if you'd like."
"No, really. I'll be fine," she promised as Brad went back to his dinner.
Out on the dance floor, Cole and Norell executed a twirl, laughing as they came
back together. From a distance of twenty feet away, Elinor could feel the wattage in his smile. She took another sip of water, feeling slightly sick to her stomach.
She should ignore them, she told herself as her eyes went back to where they'd been.
But Norell was gone. In the spot where they had danced, Cole stood alone watching Elinor through the crowd, an intent, heated look on his face.
Elinor gasped as their gazes collided. There was no mistaking the recognition in his look.
Anger flared in her, the age-old rage of a woman who's been led on. She looked away quickly, panic, excitement, and fury fighting in her chest. Without glancing up, she knew he was crossing the room to where she sat with Brad.
Across the table, Brad had finished his meal and was launching into a story about his work.
She smiled at him, nodding encouragingly to cover for her total lack of attention.
A sizzle of sensation ran up her spine as she realized that Cole stood beside her.
"Elinor?" The husky velvet of his voice stroked over her like a lover's touch.
Brad stopped in midsentence, his pleasant face mildly surprised.
"Hello, Cole." Her voice came out high and brittle as she glanced up quickly, unable to bring herself to look into his eyes. "I didn't expect to run into you this evening."
"It's quite a lovely surprise for me, too," he answered, a questioning pause falling after his words.
Elinor unconsciously pleated her paper napkin, catching sight of Cole's frown out of the corner of her eye.
She dropped the napkin, hiding her hands in her lap.
He'd obviously picked up on her agitation. Elinor cursed his perceptivity. There were few things more dangerous than a fickle man who could see into a woman's heart.
Glancing up at him again, she struggled to keep a blank face as she held his needle-sharp gaze. "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Brad Thomas."
Brad rose, offering his hand with an affable smile.