The cave wasn’t that large. It was also very quiet. She knew Clay could hear the rustle of clothes as she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off, the click of her unfastening the snap of her jeans, the rasp of the zipper as she pulled it down. She didn’t know why—delusional modesty maybe—but she kept on her bra and panties. They were sky-blue and lacy and filmy and totally unsuited for a camping trip. But that hadn’t mattered. She’d imagined tonight would be special.
She didn’t have to worry about Clay watching her because he didn’t glance over his shoulder once. It was as if he was totally disinterested.
But maybe he was just as confused as she was. That idea gave her the courage to ask, “Are you going to watch the fire all night?”
It had already burned down into a low glow. After a pause, he answered, “No. Do you have your flashlight?”
She’d been in such a hurry to scurry into the sleeping bag, she hadn’t even thought of it. “No, I don’t, but I can—” She reached for her blouse.
“I’ll get it for you.” He’d brought in the saddle with the saddlebags and heaped everything in the corner farthest from the fire.
Clay had also removed his jacket. His sweatshirt underneath pulled taut across his shoulders and upper arms as he crouched at the saddles and rummaged in her bag for the flashlight. He didn’t seem to mind his damp cargo pants. She supposed he was used to this…living out of his saddlebag, dealing with the weather, camping in caves. She could probably get used to it, too, if she could learn some tips from him.
But tips from Clay on survival camping weren’t even on her list right now. She was engrossed in the way his hair curled over his collar, by the fit of his pants on his backside, by his sureness and authority in handling himself out here. He was so sexy that just looking at him made her mouth go dry.
Clay found her flashlight as well as his. He brought them over to the double sleeping bag, set his on one side and crossed to where her blouse lay.
“I’ll set it here,” he said, kneeling down and placing it on top of her clothes.
She needed to know if he wanted her. She needed to know if the other night had been simply an anomaly. Hiking herself up on her elbows, the sleeping bag slipped to her waist.
Clay stared at her, at the blue filmy lace barely covering her breasts, at the thin satin straps, and at her hair falling over her shoulders almost to the clasp.
“Celeste,” he breathed as if he couldn’t help himself.
She held her breath and waited.
The fire hissed and popped. Wisps of smoke circled to the opening above. She glanced away from him, not knowing what she should do, not wanting her vulnerability to show.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
When she did, he came closer and took her chin in his hand.
“I want us both to be sure. I want us both to realize what we’re doing. Because I won’t be able to stop after one kiss.”
His raspy voice and the image he created sent heat flashing through her body. Still she kept silent. She couldn’t make another move. She felt as if she’d made them all, and now it was his turn.
“There are nights,” he said roughly, “when I camp outside and sleep under that immense sky. I look up and I can’t find a single star. But sometimes, if I stay awake long enough, a veil lifts before my eyes and suddenly there are hundreds of tiny lights making the whole trip worthwhile.”
In the silence, Celeste could hear the rain rolling off rocks outside the cave. “So the veil has lifted? Do you know what you want?” she asked bravely.
The scent of hardwood burning low wafted around them as Clay answered, “I want you.”
“I want you, too,” she said clearly so he’d know she was as sure as he was.
The intensity in his eyes mesmerized her, and he shifted from his crouch and knelt beside her. Then his hands were in her hair, his mouth was on hers, and she didn’t have to wonder anymore whether or not he really wanted her. The other night had been frantic and fast. Tonight—
A wild yearning infused Clay’s kisses as a deep fervor provoked the slice of his tongue. She responded in kind, and everything went out of control and hot. His hands went to her breasts and teased her nipples under her bra until she thought she’d come right then and there. She plucked at the V-neck of his shirt, eager for him to be at least as naked as she was. He broke away, only for as long as it took to tug his shirt over his head, unzip his pants and shake off his boots with the rest of his clothes. After he pulled back the sleeping bag, he covered her with his body.
“I want you naked,” he growled against her ear.
“Be my guest,” she whispered breathlessly, wondering what he would do.
He rolled her with him to their sides, and while he kissed her neck, he unfastened her bra. No sooner had he done that than his lips were on her nipple, and she cried out from the pleasure. His hands seemed to be everywhere, making her mindless, creating urgency that he thwarted by postponing their physical reunion.
“You’re not playing fair,” she managed to say.
“Tonight isn’t about fair. It’s about pleasure and passion and getting what we both want.”
And just what was that, she wondered fleetingly.
He slid lower. As he removed her panties, his mouth and tongue slid to her most intimate places. She knew she wanted a life with him, and she prayed he wanted the same.
But if he doesn’t? echoed the faraway thought.
As her body wound tighter, and he brought her to climax with his mouth, she didn’t listen to that faraway question or think about the answer.
She was still tingling from the best orgasm she’d ever had when he rose above her and thrust inside of her.
“Oh, Clay! You feel so wonderful.”
“So do you.” Moving in and out, he drove harder, finally touching the spot with his finger that had given her so much pleasure minutes before. She cried out so loud, she believed the sound had to echo throughout the whole canyon. As she held on to Clay’s shoulders, he found his release with a growl of satisfaction that made her hold him even tighter.
As she held him, and he held her, she knew she’d found bliss. Just how long would it last?
Chapter Twelve
Harold Sullivan let himself into his Chicago hotel room, then let the door bang shut behind him. He flipped over the night lock and crossed the room to the minibar. Opening it, he selected one of the small bottles of bourbon. It was going to be a long night with room service and cable TV, and an even longer day of meetings tomorrow. He missed Violet. He always missed Violet when he was traveling. Their time together lately had been almost contentious, all because of Clay and the choices he made.
Finding an old-fashioned glass the five-star hotel staff had left for him, he filled it with ice from the full bucket and glanced at the bed, which was turned down. He’d paid through the nose for the services.
Heaving himself onto the loveseat in the sitting area, he realized he was in trouble—trouble with Violet and trouble with Clay. Foolishly trying to smooth out his son’s life, he’d put himself in a position where Celeste Wells could blackmail him.
He’d been absolutely flabbergasted when she hadn’t taken the money, though he had tried not to let it show. Who would have thought? Zoie would have taken that money in an instant.
And that’s where he’d made his mistake. What if Celeste really cared about Abby? What if she truly cared about his son? How was he going to be able to go forward with his family after what he’d done?
If he told Violet, in the mood she was in these days, she might leave him. Still, if she found out from someone else, she most definitely could leave him, couldn’t she? His own wife was changing, and he didn’t understand it. She’d been excited about delving into the computer world with Celeste, for goodness sake. How out of character was that? She’d even told him she was bored with her bridge club! She’d belonged to that bridge club for fifteen years. All the wives were married to important men in the community. Co
cktail parties with them helped to foster his networking. Yet Violet was thinking about quitting.
What had she said to him when he’d left? She couldn’t wait to take care of Abby because their granddaughter would keep her young at heart, and she wanted to be young at heart until the day she died. It was about time they both learned how.
He drank half the bourbon in the old-fashioned glass.
Was Celeste the type of woman who would blackmail him? And what would she want, if not money?
It was too dangerous a question to ask…or answer. He’d better fix this somehow himself before his world fell apart.
Celeste awakened in Clay’s arms Monday morning. They’d only gotten a few hours of sleep. She couldn’t believe the night of pleasure they’d shared, or how that pleasure had excited her as well as terrified her. What if they didn’t work out? What if everything fell apart? What if Clay only wanted sex? This morning she had to find out what was going through his mind and what she meant to him.
“It’s about time, sleepyhead.” His morning voice was sexy and deep.
“Have you been awake long?” She looked up at him, not knowing what she’d see.
“Long enough. Are you cold?”
“Not when you’re holding me.”
He gave her a grin that made her stomach somersault. “I did more than hold you last night.”
She continued to study his face. “What did it mean, Clay?”
This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have—she could tell by the furrow between his brows and the set of his jaw. “I’m still raw from a marriage that didn’t work out. And you—aren’t you still leery about relationships because of what happened with the pilot?”
It almost sounded as if he wanted her to be. But she’d fallen deeply in love with Clay. She saw now she’d entered into a relationship with Peter because she’d felt it was time to be married and have a family, not because of some great undying love for him.
“But Clay—” Her feelings for him had started developing so very long ago. She’d kept them in check. She’d denied them. With what was building between them, she couldn’t deny what was real for her anymore. On the other hand, she didn’t think Clay was ready to hear about it.
“I’m ready for a new life,” she told him.
“You mean being a mom to Abby.”
“I mean, being someone special to you, too.”
“You are,” he said huskily. “But it’s not like we can even live together in Miners Bluff. That would kill your reputation, and every town busybody would have a field day. We have to care about that for Abby’s sake.”
She knew they did. Abby came first and above all else. Yet on the other hand, was she herself always going to be an appendage? Not someone necessary for Clay to live and breathe, as he was to her? She felt hurt that he couldn’t say more, couldn’t give her more, wasn’t willing to do more.
“So I’m going to have visitation days with Abby, and we’ll go on from there?”
“Ample visitation,” he said with a wiggle of his brow. “For me and Abby.” When he realized how that sounded, he shook his head. “I don’t have the answers right now, Celeste.”
“You’re thinking about what happens if you and I stop seeing each other.”
“I have to think about that.”
“Maybe. On the other hand, you need to know that when I make a commitment, I keep it.” She couldn’t make herself any more clear than that except to say she loved him.
Still she saw the doubts in his eyes, the memory of Zoie’s affair and her abdication of responsibility. The only course Celeste could take was to love Clay the best she could, to love him until he realized she wasn’t going anywhere. Unless, of course, he didn’t want her…unless he shut down and pushed her away.
He turned on his side to face her and slid his fingers into her hair. “I have to check on the horses, but before I do…”
His kiss was a continuation of everything they’d shared in the middle of the night. When his hands slid up and down her back and pressed her against him, she had no doubt that he wanted her. But was it a physical need or an emotional one?
They were both breathing hard when he broke the kiss. She thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead he asked in a low voice, “How would you like to stay with me and Abby tonight? I’m sure she missed you.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“No! I want another night like last night. How about you?”
Yes, she did, but she wanted a future, too. For now, however, she’d take another day with her daughter and with Clay. “I’d love to stay with you tonight.”
The next kiss was even longer and wetter and deeper. Lost in it, she almost forgot the question—where did they go from here?
That night, Celeste sat on the side of Abby’s bed and pulled the covers up over her. Lulu was tucked under her arm. When Abby looked up at her with such sweet innocent green eyes, Celeste’s heart beat madly with the joy she was feeling. “You’re going to have lots of wonderful dreams tonight, sweetheart.”
Celeste could feel Clay watching from the bookshelf where he was putting the book away that they’d read to her.
Suddenly Abby sat up again and flung her arms around Celeste’s neck. “I like it when you’re here.” The words were a bit sleepy but completely understandable.
“I like being here.” She gave Abby a kiss on the cheek and held on tight until her daughter pulled away and slid down under the covers again.
By this time, Clay was at his daughter’s bedside, too. He stooped down, gave her a kiss on the forehead and assured her, “Sometime soon I’ll take you along to see the mountain, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed with a sleepy smile as she turned on her side and closed her eyes.
Celeste waited for Clay in the hall as he took a last long look at his daughter. They’d made love that morning before they’d watched the sun’s first rays stream over the canyon wall. Outside, they’d ridden the horses toward Feather Peak, hiked a bit along its switchbacks and eaten lunch overlooking the valley between Feather Peak and Moonshadow Mountain. They’d kissed often, held hands and laughed in the beautiful sunshine. Celeste had felt so at one with Clay and hoped he felt the same with her.
Abby had been waiting for him with Clay’s mom and had excitedly shown them the pictures she’d drawn for them while they were away. They’d spent the rest of the day with her, making her the center of their world.
It had been a perfect day.
And now she and Clay might have another perfect night.
He came up behind her in the hall and wrapped his arms around her. She looked up at him over her shoulder, so sure of what she wanted.
“What now?” she asked with a little coyness to tease him.
“We could find a closet again,” he joked as his hand found one of her breasts.
Electric pulses seemed to slash through her body, and the sexual tension between her and Clay was at a fever pitch already.
He turned her to him in his arms. “I’d like nothing better than to take you to my bed and keep you there all night, but we need to give Abby time to fall asleep.”
“I know we do. How about an old-fashioned date?”
He eyed her warily. “And what would that be?”
“Popcorn and a movie. You’ve got a stack of DVDs in there. I’m sure we can find something we both like.”
And it didn’t take them long until they did. It was one of those adventure thrillers with just enough action for Clay and just enough romance for Celeste. They microwaved a bag of popcorn, poured it into a bowl, uncapped two beers and settled on the great-room couch. Clay switched on Abby’s monitor so they could hear her if she needed them. Then close together, shoulders brushing, they lounged on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table.
The movie was good, but Celeste was conscious of Clay’s every movement. As he glanced at her often, she knew he was conscious of hers. When the popcorn bowl was as empty as their bottles of beer, he
paused the DVD, sat against the arm of the sofa and opened his arms to her.
“Come here. There’s no reason why we can’t be a lot cozier while we wait for her to go into a deep sleep.”
Celeste smiled, settled between Clay’s legs, her head on his chest, his arms around her. She loved his strength, his sense of responsibility and simply the way he made her feel as a woman.
The movie played once more, and he bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “Your hair drives me crazy,” he said in a husky voice. “It slides over your shoulder, swishes across your back, and I just want to run my hands through it.”
“Go ahead,” she invited, in what was meant to be a playful tone that came out breathless and excited.
His callused fingers slid against her temple, ruffled her bangs, smoothed over her shoulder. Celeste could feel his arousal. He had the power to turn her on so easily. “I love the feel of your beard stubble against my cheek, your fingers on my skin.”
“I want your mouth,” he growled, as they shifted so they were lying facing each other, Celeste on the inside of the sofa. Then he took her mouth, and she tried to give him everything she was in the kiss.
“Isn’t this just too cozy?”
Celeste heard her twin’s voice and at first thought she was imagining things. Yet as Clay’s body went tense, as he raised his head and looked toward the foyer, she knew she wasn’t imagining anything.
“She still has a key,” Clay muttered as he got to his feet and faced his ex-wife. “What are you doing here, Zoie?”
“I thought I could bunk in your guest bedroom tonight. It was late when I got in, but I can see now this was a terrifically bad idea. Don’t worry. I can go to a motel so you can keep doing what you were doing.”
Zoie’s gaze on Celeste almost made her feel as if she’d betrayed her sister. Had she? Was being here with Clay all wrong?
“How are you?” Celeste asked her sister, afraid to go to her for a hug, afraid she’d be rejected. After all, wasn’t she trying to take Zoie’s place? Wasn’t she trying to become Abby’s mother and Clay’s permanent lover?
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