Forbidden

by Suzanne Brockmann

  The concierge led them to their rooms with a flashlight, assuring them the problem with the electricity would quickly be taken care of. A major power line had come down as the result of an accident, but work was being done even as they spoke. Until the situation was rectified, the maid had brought candles and matches to their rooms, and did they want him to light those candles for them?

  Cal just opened the door to his room and went inside as if he hadn’t heard a single word spoken. Kayla told the man that they’d be fine, and followed Cal inside, wondering if everything she said to him would go as completely unnoticed.

  She set her purse down on the desk, turning to face him.

  “Maybe it would help if we talked,” she started to say, but he cut her off.

  “I want to be alone.”

  Go away. He didn’t want her or need her. He didn’t say those exact words, but his message couldn’t have been more clear.

  Kayla started toward the door to the balcony that connected their two rooms, but hesitated, not wanting to leave him there, alone in the dark.

  Maybe he would use the opportunity to release some of his pain and grief.

  But she knew he wouldn’t. She knew this man pretty well, she realized suddenly. And just as sure as she knew her own heart was beating, she knew Cal was sending himself back into an emotional deep freeze—and this time he might never come out.

  “Cal, God, I’m so sorry…”

  He was silent. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she didn’t need to.

  “I really thought we were going to find him,” she said. “And I know you did too….”

  Nothing. Still nothing. But maybe he was crying. Maybe he wasn’t speaking because he couldn’t speak.

  She could see the candles and matches that had been left in the room by the light from the last few streaks of the sunset that lingered in the sky. She struck a match, and the soft glow of light filled the room.

  Cal sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes dry, his expression still so bleak.

  She was the one who was crying.

  “Please,” he said, his voice devoid of all expression. He didn’t even look up to meet her gaze. “Just go.”

  Kayla hesitated, lingering at the open door to the balcony. Cal had to look away. She was backlit by the red-orange sky with the candlelight caressing her face, her eyes filled with tears of compassion and remorse. She looked so beautiful, so alive.

  He was still holding Liam’s death certificate in his hands, and he looked down at it. He felt a wave of fury and sorrow churning inside him, rising like bile, and he forced it back down, refusing to let himself feel.

  If he didn’t let himself feel anything, then he wouldn’t have to deal with the grief that was threatening to slice him in half. He wouldn’t have to suffer guilt every time he so much as met Kayla’s eyes—guilt over lusting for the woman his brother had loved, guilt over the way she could make him smile and even laugh, guilt over the way just looking at her could make him feel better.

  And he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he was alive, and Liam wasn’t.

  He sensed more than heard Kayla’s movement as she finally went out the door.

  He found himself listening for her, listening to the sound of her opening the sliding door that led into her room. He heard her step inside and—

  She screamed.

  It was a scream of pure terror, and it was cut short as if forcibly stopped. Cal’s heart damn near quit beating and his blood froze in his veins.

  He was off the bed like a shot, even before he realized she had been calling his name. He burst through the door to the balcony and into her room.

  She hadn’t lit a candle—she hadn’t had time—but he could make out two shadows in her room.

  Two shadows.

  Sweet Lord, a man was in the room, and he was trying to hurt Kayla.

  Cal couldn’t tell if the man’s hands were around Kayla’s mouth or her throat. All he knew for certain was that no one—no one—was going to hurt this girl as long as there was any breath left in his body.

  He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, dragging him away from Kayla, the force of his attack pushing her down onto the floor. She scrambled away as he slammed his fist into the intruder’s face, sending him reeling.

  The man hit the wall with enough force to knock a framed picture free, then bolted for the balcony door.

  Cal gave chase, but whoever the intruder was, he’d been quick. When Cal got to the railing of the balcony, he was already on the ground, running through the darkness, disappearing around the corner of the darkened building.

  Kayla.

  Cal moved quickly back into her room.

  She was still on the floor, sitting in the darkness with her knees up and her back against the wall. Cal knelt beside her, pulling her forward into the moonlight so he could see her face, see that she was all right.

  She was trembling, but he more than half expected her to give him a shaky smile.

  She didn’t.

  She looked shell-shocked, and she pulled away from him in fear, as if she didn’t even recognize who he was. “Don’t touch me!”

  “Kayla, did he hurt you?” Cal asked her, a new blade of fear stabbing into him.

  She didn’t hear him. He might as well have been talking to the wall.

  Sweet Jesus, when he’d heard her scream, he’d damn near gone into cardiac arrest. And now that the danger was past, now that his heart was beating again, it was sending an undeniable message with every pulsing surge of blood through his veins.

  He would have died if anything had happened to Kayla. He would have fought to the death to keep her safe. He loved her—more than life itself.

  The realization took his breath away, but he had no time to think about himself—he had to make sure she hadn’t been badly hurt.

  There were candles in her room too, and he lit them all, carrying one as he knelt back down next to her.

  Her head was down, her arms tightly around her knees. But as he touched her gently on her shoulder, her head snapped up, and she began to scramble away from him.

  Cal held the candle up and it lit his face. “Kayla, darlin’, it’s me.”

  She froze, gazing up at him. Something in her eyes shifted and focused, and he could see her sudden recognition. “Cal.” She burst into tears and reached for him.

  He barely had time to set down the candle before pulling her into his arms. She almost knocked him over with the fierceness of her embrace. He held her just as tightly, aware that he was shaking too.

  As sobs shook her body, he reassured himself that she was all right. He touched her hair, her back, the softness of her arms, loving her with a desperation that made his chest ache. He felt like crying too—for Liam, who was no longer able to experience this odd, wonderful, uncomfortably alive sensation of having his heart in his throat.

  Kayla’s tears were slowing now, her breathing no longer quite so ragged, but still she held on to him tightly.

  “I knew you would come,” she said softly, finally lifting her head to look up at him. “I was just afraid you wouldn’t hear me calling—”

  “I heard you. Are you all right?”

  Kayla wiped her eyes as she nodded. “All he kept saying was ‘Silence! Be quiet!’ He was trying to cover my mouth. And I—I just kept remembering…”

  He pulled her closer. “I’m sorry.”

  She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “I’m definitely going to learn karate. I’ve wanted to for a while, but I kept putting it off and…Now I’m definitely signing up for a class as soon as I get home.”

  Home. They were heading home to the United States tomorrow, because they’d found proof that Liam was dead.

  Cal closed his eyes against the sudden rush of pain.

  Kayla gently touched his face. “Are you all right?”

  He shook his head, sitting down on the floor next to her, his arm still around her shoulders. He couldn’t let go of her. He didn’t want to le
t go. “No.”

  “Liam’s really dead,” she said softly.

  Cal felt his eyes fill with tears as he nodded. “Yeah. I think that he is.”

  He could feel her watching him, and he turned away.

  Kayla could feel a fresh flood of tears fill her own eyes as she touched the side of his face again. His expression was like granite, unmoving and solid. “Cal, it’s okay if you cry. You have every right to be angry. You have every right to grieve. Please, don’t keep it inside, where it’ll keep you from living too.”

  “I remember when he was about twelve years old, a tornado warning came in over the radio,” Cal said, staring out the open window at the moon slowly rising above the hills, his softly accented voice deceptively quiet. “He must’ve been home from school because he had a cold or something, and he was just hanging out, listening to a baseball game while I mended fences with the hired hands.”

  Kayla leaned her cheek against the broadness of his shoulder, wishing he would look at her, wishing he would let her share his pain.

  “The sky was that telltale grayish-green that it gets when a twister’s coming.” He paused, finally turning toward her, finally meeting her gaze. “The kid knew he had to get down into the basement, to the little room that we use as a storm cellar, but he got it into his head that if he saddled up his horse, he’d be able to drive the herd up toward the back pastures and give ’em room to run from the danger of the storm. He could see ’em from the house, bunched up by the gate. The cattle knew damn well that bad weather was coming—they were nervous as hell—but the gate was closed.

  “Liam ran out to the barn, but his horse was too spooked by the storm to let him saddle up. So he went bareback, charging out across that field, over to the gate. He got it opened, and nearly got trampled for his trouble.”

  He was still holding her gaze, as if it were a lifeline as he tried to blink back the tears that were threatening to overflow.

  “That was about the time that twister came roaring through. It took out a couple of fences, but missed the house and barn. It missed Liam too, thank God, although he swears it passed right over him when he took cover in a ditch.

  “I got home about five minutes later, and of course I found the storm cellar empty, and no sign of the kid.”

  “You must’ve been scared to death,” Kayla murmured.

  “No, not until I realized Liam’s horse was gone. Then I was scared to death.” He paused. “I saw that the gate was open, and put two and two together. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to find him.

  “I was madder’n hell, but he was so damn proud of what he’d done, I couldn’t yell at him the way I wanted to. I knew that if I’d’ve been home, I would have done the exact same thing he did. I realized right then that he wasn’t a baby anymore. I knew he had to make his own decisions and take his own risks, and that I wasn’t going to be able to follow him around to make sure he always made the safest choices.”

  His battle was a losing one, and as Kayla watched, his tears overflowed, running down his face. He didn’t even try to wipe them away.

  “I didn’t think twice when he told me he was coming to San Salustiano,” Cal told her, his tears falling faster now. “I didn’t know where the hell it was, didn’t even think to ask. Some kind of political trouble, he told me, and I figured no big deal. I teased him about the tough working conditions he’d have on a tropical island—girls in bikinis and piña coladas on the beach. I didn’t even tell him to be careful. Next thing I knew, I’ve got a telegram telling me the kid’s dead.”

  His voice broke, and he covered his face with his hands. Kayla could feel tears streaming down her own face as she tried to comfort him.

  She couldn’t say anything—she didn’t want to say anything. His tears would help him to heal, so she simply held him while, as for probably the very first time in his entire adult life, Cal let another person see him cry.

  Cal woke up in the middle of the night disoriented and confused. He was sleeping in a double bed with someone in his arms and…

  Kayla. It was Kayla who was lying next to him, her leg thrown possessively across him as she slept.

  Memories of the evening before came rushing back. The intruder in her room. His incredible fear of losing her. His overwhelming grief.

  Kayla stirred slightly, snuggling in closer to him.

  She hadn’t wanted to be alone—he couldn’t blame her. She’d come into his room with him, and they’d locked the doors and he’d held her while she slept. Or maybe she’d held him while he’d slept. Either way, they both had been in need of a pair of comforting arms.

  She shifted again, this time rousing. “Cal?”

  “I’m right here,” he murmured.

  She pulled her leg off him, half sitting in the darkness. “Who’s in the room?”

  He sat up too. “No one. Just us.”

  “I was dreaming…” She took a deep breath. “Do the lights work? Can we please turn on a light?”

  Cal tried the lamp that was next to the bed. “The power’s still off.” He reached for one of the candles and the matches he’d left on the bedside table and quickly lit it, holding it up so that the light shone around the room.

  No one was there, of course. Kayla had been dreaming.

  With a sigh of relief, she slumped down next to him. The tension in her shoulders was visible, and Cal pulled her into his arms. He could feel her heart pounding and he rubbed her back, trying to calm her down.

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  “The dream? No thanks.” She laughed, a short burst of disgusted air. “Stephen King would’ve been proud. It was a master level nightmare of his caliber.”

  “I hardly ever remember my dreams,” Cal mused. “It’s funny, but back when I was a little kid, I used to have such vivid ones. Good dreams, though, not nightmares. I had this recurring dream that started with me falling, but then, before I hit the ground, I realized I could fly, and I just sailed over the ranch. It was amazing.”

  “I still dream that I’m falling.” Kayla lifted her head to look up at him. “It scares me to death—I wake up shouting.”

  Cal smiled down into her eyes. “Next time, try to fly.”

  As he gazed down at her, he saw realization creep into her eyes. Awareness. Anticipation. It crackled around them like some living, breathing creature. She was in his arms, leaning against him. He was still stroking her back soothingly, trailing his fingers from the soft curls at the back of her neck down to the waistband of her shorts.

  But then something changed. And even though he didn’t touch her any differently, his soothing caress seemed electrified, and achingly, shockingly, intimate.

  Her gaze flickered to his mouth, inches away from hers. “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked breathlessly.

  Her blunt question surprised him, but he answered her just as honestly. “I was thinking about it.”

  Her eyes were wide and serious. But then she lifted her mouth the scant few inches that separated them. Her eyelids flickered closed as she brushed her lips against his in the gentlest of kisses.

  Cal closed his own eyes, dizzy with pleasure at the sensation of her tongue softly outlining his lips, sweetly and so delicately taking possession of his mouth.

  He groaned, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss, wanting more, needing more. Shock waves of desire exploded inside him as he kissed her even harder. He filled his hands with the softness of her body, letting his passion take control.

  But then he pulled back, afraid he’d pushed too hard, gone too far.

  He gazed down at her, his heart pounding just as loudly as it had earlier, when he’d fought her attacker. She was breathing raggedly too, and when she spoke, her voice was no louder than a whisper.

  “In case you were wondering, that was definitely a come-on.”

  Cal had to laugh at that. Still, despite his smile, he knew that the sadness he could see in her eyes was mirrored in his own. “We’ve come full circle, haven’t
we, Kayla?”

  She nodded, searching his eyes. “I don’t want to push you into doing anything you don’t feel ready for.”

  “Shouldn’t that be my line?”

  She looked so beautiful with the candlelight playing across her delicate cheekbones and gracefully shaped lips. She closed her eyes briefly, and her lashes looked ridiculously long and dark resting against her cheeks. And when she looked up at him again, he knew without a doubt that he could happily spend the rest of his life gazing into her incredible eyes. And still he didn’t know…

  “I think I’m a little worried about, well, what you’ve been through,” he said awkwardly, “and—”

  Kayla lightly pressed her fingers to his lips. “And I think it’s time for you to stop worrying so much. I’m ready. Are you?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready too.”

  Kayla searched his eyes—for what he didn’t know. But whatever it was, she seemed satisfied, because she leaned forward and kissed him again.

  Again he could feel every pounding beat of his heart sending heat and desire pulsing to his fingers and toes. Sweet Lord, he wanted her.

  And she’d made it more than clear that she wanted him.

  The power was off in the hotel—the video camera was out of commission, but the listening device could very well still be operational, and there was no way he was going to make love to this woman with God knows who listening in.

  He pulled away from her to turn on the radio, thankful it ran on batteries, tuning it quickly to the salsa music of the radio station on one of the neighboring islands. He set it near the planted bug, where it would mask their conversation and keep anyone from overhearing them. And, on second thought, he took one of the towels that the maid had brought and covered the camera lens. Just in case.

  Kayla had turned to watch him, propped up on one elbow. If she had looked nervous, he might have turned away. But she gazed at him with such certainty and such incredible expectation in her eyes. He couldn’t have kept from lying down next to her and pulling her into his arms if he’d tried.

  She reached for him so willingly, her mouth so sweet, her arms so welcoming. She was a perfect fit against him, her legs intertwining with his naturally as he kissed her. He kissed her lazily, taking his time, content to lose himself in the softness of her lips. Lord, it felt so right. Holding her, kissing her like this was like coming home.