Once they had talked for hours. Now it seemed they had little to say to each other. She found that thought unbearably sad.
After finishing the soda, she pushed the empty glass closer to his half of the wide bar. She wondered if he was waiting for her to leave so that he could get on with his work. Probably, she decided. Sunday was probably a busy day at the Lucky Horseshoe.
She slipped the napkin from under the empty glass and concentrated on making perfect pleats.
"I read your letter to Kelsey last night. You said exactly what she needed to hear."
"Is that why you drove all the way here? To tell me that?"
She glanced up. His brow was furrowed, his eyes wary. These days, it seemed that he distrusted even the smallest gesture of kindness.
"Partly. I needed to get away for a while. I figured if you could drive all the way into the city to bring it to me, I could drive out here to thank you."
"A phone call would have done, but thank you."
Knowing that he had revealed a part of himself to Cait as well as to his daughter made him uneasy. That uneasiness had him walking to the end of the bar to refill his coffee cup. As he did, he cocked an eyebrow in her direction, silently asking if she would like to join him.
"No, thanks," she murmured. She was jittery enough. The caffeine would only make her squirrelly.
When he realized she wasn't going to say her piece and leave, he silently sipped his coffee and wondered if he could truly trust her.
It was her air of complete relaxation that decided it for him. Only someone who accepted him totally, without reservations or expectations, would be so at ease with an ex-convict who went out of his way to keep people as far away as possible.
"I meant everything I said in that letter, Cait," he said, choosing his words with difficulty. "I was a lousy father. No wonder Crys was able to use Kelsey against me. I wasn't much more than a stranger to her."
Her smile was understanding. "We all have regrets, Tyler. Even Crystal, I think."
Watching her, he felt as though she had touched him very gently, just as she had the night of the play. Longings surged again, stronger this time.
Dropping his gaze, Tyler studied that dark sludge in his cup before slugging it down.
"When it comes to Crys, you're more charitable than I am."
"She was the mother of your child," Cait reminded him softly.
"Yes, I know. That's why I married her." Refilling his cup had emptied the pot, and he set about brewing another. Cait watched, uncertain whether to stay or go. Tyler didn't seem unwelcoming, just preoccupied.
She drew a quick nervous breath that she covered by clearing her throat as she glanced past him toward the clock. "Well, I've taken enough of your time…"
"I made a mistake, Cait," he said before he turned toward her. "I slept with her once, just once."
"Why did you sleep with her, Tyler?"
He hadn't expected the question, but he should have. Cait wasn't a woman to avoid hard truths. He took his time returning to the spot where she was sitting. It didn't help. There was no easy way to tell her the truth.
"I was dead tired. I hadn't had a woman in more months than I could remember, and she made it very clear she wanted me."
Cait nodded very slowly. "You're saying that she seduced you?"
His hand bunched into a fist that he beat softly against the bar. "No, I'm saying I'd give anything if I could have that choice over again."
"If you did, perhaps there would be no Kelsey."
Uncomfortable with the depth of emotion she invariably seemed to draw from him, he shifted his gaze from her face to the garish beer sign in the window. The soft smile in her eyes stayed in his mind.
"Sometimes I think that's the only thing that kept me sane during these past years."
"Everyone makes mistakes. As you said, I made a whopper four years ago."
His blunt forefinger traced a jagged gouge in the wood separating them. He seemed to be more comfortable if he wasn't looking directly at her.
"If you had that choice again, would you make the same one?"
"I've often wondered that myself," she admitted. Usually in the middle of a sleepless night, when the shadows were darkest. "When it was all … happening, I kept asking myself how I could have been so wrong about you. Why hadn't I seen the warning signs that are always there, even though they may be subtle? Was it because you had once, been my best friend that I didn't want to see such an ugly truth in you?"
Something painful ground in Tyler's chest. "Crys didn't help."
Cait sighed. "No. My sister had her own reasons for doing what she did. I'm trying to put them in the best light I can. For Kelsey's sake."
"Sometimes I think she was jealous of you."
Cait's eyebrows shot up. "Of me? Whatever for?"
"Mostly for the gift you have of making friends, I think. She didn't have all that many."
"I know. Crys always looked at every other woman she met as a rival. Except me, of course. She thought of me as the 'smart sister,' just like everyone else did."
Not that that had stopped her from taking every boyfriend Cait ever had, of course. Once she had them, she couldn't wait to drop them. Blind adoration bored Crystal. Perhaps that was why Tyler had been such a challenge.
"Tyler, let's make a pact, okay? No more tailing about Crystal. Every time we do, we end up arguing and one of us goes away mad. Mostly it's you."
Something changed in his eyes. Something important.
"Does that bother you?"
She nodded slowly. "I may have a lot of friends, but you were my best friend for a long time. When you married Crys, I missed that."
Because he needed to move, he swung open the hinged bar top and came around to slip onto the stool next to hers.
"Can we work on it again, Cait? Our friendship, I mean."
She glanced down at the tiny fan she'd made. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"We made a start on it the other night. Remember?"
She began to unfold the perfect pleats one by one. "When I came here the first time, you looked at me as though you couldn't stand the sight of me."
"You caught me off guard," he hedged.
Her gaze came slowly to his, full of questions and yet strangely soft. He ached to hold her again, but he knew he didn't dare. Instead, he reached for her hand and balanced it in his.
"Sometimes that's when our feelings are strongest," she murmured. "When we're caught off guard."
It both surprised and pleased him that she allowed her hand to rest in his. Tentatively he ran his finger over her skin. Her fingers quivered against his. Still, she refused to retreat.
"You're the expert on feelings, not me. I just know I don't blame you anymore for what happened. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I did."
His thumb made small, caressing movements against her palm. Her skin, already warmed by his touch, now grew intensely sensitive.
"Easier? I doubt it." When he was touching her, it was difficult to concentrate on anything but the sensations running like adrenaline through her blood. "I think it's time I got out of here and let you get back to work." Just as she tried to slip her hand from his, his fingers tightened, trapping her.
"Are you afraid of me, Cait?" he drawled softly.
"No, of course not."
"Ashamed to be seen with an ex-con, perhaps?" The slight tensing of his deep voice brought back the conversation she'd had with Kelsey.
"Actually, there doesn't seem to be anyone here to see us."
"That's not an answer."
"I'm not ashamed to be seen with you, Tyler. Kelsey wouldn't be, either, if she were here."
The slight flicker in his gaze told her she'd hit a sore place. "I think that would hurt me the most," he said in a toneless voice.
"Don't borrow pain, Tyler. Trust that it won't happen."
"Trust." His tone was very soft.
"Yes, trust. The way I trust that you'll get a new trial and all this
will be behind you someday."
She wouldn't let herself back away from the sudden ice forming in his eyes. She had a feeling too many people he encountered had done that already.
"I'd rather put my faith in Dante," he said after a long moment of tense silence. She counted it a victory that he hadn't completely withdrawn from her.
"That, too," she said with a laugh.
Steam from the sink had coaxed wisps of curl around her face. He saw himself nosing those soft wisps out of the way so that he could kiss the sweet, vulnerable curve just below the shell of her ear. Would her skin feel silky against his mouth?
His fingers were tentative as he traced the line of her cheek. It was the sweetest kind of touching, out of character for such a deeply angry, bitter man.
"You have a way of making a man feel strong and invincible just by smiling at him," he murmured, and then scowled as though the words had slipped unbidden past his guard.
"Perhaps a man is already those things and doesn't know it." Her voice was hushed, but her heart was beating rapidly. So rapidly that she felt each beat pulse through her.
His gaze dropped to the hollow of her throat, as though he, too, sensed the reaction of her body to his closeness. When his gaze came back to hers, she found she couldn't move. Nor could she speak.
"There were times…" His voice trailed off as he leaned forward to cover her mouth with his. The reaction was immediate, a swift flush of heat in her throat. Over the swell of her breasts. Deeper.
Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself leaning toward him, her hands winding around his neck. Instantly, as though he'd been waiting for her silent permission, his big hands molded her waist and pulled her to her feet.
With a sudden, draining weakness, she leaned into him, loving the hard contours of muscle and bone supporting her so securely.
He settled her more firmly against him and took her mouth again. This time his lips were hot with a hunger she had never aroused in any other man.
Desire blossomed inside her until she knew only pleasure. Her own lips grew eager. Her hands sought his shoulders, curved over his hard biceps, moved past his collar to test the warm texture of his neck before pushing into his thick, sun-streaked hair.
Too late Tyler realized that he had relied on her to stop him. His own will was gone, submerged in the wonder of her kiss and her softness.
Because she gave so willingly, he longed to give more. Because she touched so gently, he wanted to touch with reverence. Because she was so utterly feminine, he had never felt more like a man.
The sudden demand of her lips tested the last of his resolve. It had been a long time since a woman had wanted him so openly and sweetly. His hunger edged toward unbearable. His hands roamed, eager to know all of her.
Her sweater was whisper soft. Beneath its wool, her skin was even softer. Beneath his palm, beneath the lace of her bra, her nipples were like pearls warmed by the sun. And her breasts were full and heavy.
His hands shook. His hunger turned vicious, tearing at him. He knew a sudden twisting fear. She was so small, so delicate, so pliant, this woman he knew but didn't know. It would be so easy to hurt her.
When he felt the hot pressure in his groin strain his flesh nearly to bursting, he made himself lift his head and pull back. While he still could. While he still maintained a tenuous control.
"There'll be customers in here soon," he managed to rasp out.
"Customers?" She blinked at him, her cheeks flushed, her hair tousled, her lips moist and rosy from his mouth.
His smile was charmingly lopsided. "Yeah, you know. Guys with dog collars and women with tattoos. You remember, don't you? Big Mike and the gang."
"Big Mike?" Her eyes grew round and dark. "He hasn't come back, has he?"
"No, but some of his buddies have."
Cait shuddered. "When I saw all that blood…"
Tyler stopped her with a soft, moist kiss that left them both trembling. She raised her hand and touched the faint bruise still evident on his face. Very gently she let her fingers caress his hard, lined cheeks.
"Oh Tyler, I wish … I wish … I don't know what I wish."
Something painful ground into Tyler's chest. He ached to kiss her again, but he knew he didn't dare. Not when the need to have all of her was still heavy and hot inside him.
He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. "Drive carefully," he said gently. "Sunday's a busy day on 49."
He still held her, although he meant to let her go. Now, with her soft mouth trembling and her eyes searching his, he wasn't certain he could.
"I'd better go. Kelsey will be worried."
"Can't have that."
She seemed so fragile, standing there with her hair disheveled by his hands and her mouth red and wet from his kisses. He felt the blood begin to pound in his chest. He knew she expected him to walk her to the door. If he did, he wasn't sure he could let her walk through it. He dropped his arms and took a swift step backward.
"Give Kelsey a kiss for me. She doesn't have to know who it's from."
"I will," Cait promised. She was still shaking inside as she retrieved her purse and slung it over her shoulder.
Was this why she'd come? she wondered as she walked to the door. To find out if the rush of pleasure she'd felt at the first brush of his mouth over hers had been a fluke? A creation of her vivid imagination? Desire still hummed in her veins, leaving no doubt. Whatever Tyler had aroused in her, it wasn't a fluke.
Before she stepped into the fresh air, she turned to wave goodbye. He was standing where she'd left him, watching her.
"One more thing, Tyler," she said softly. "Merry Christmas."
* * *
Chapter 8
« ^ »
It wasn't as though she'd never been kissed before, Cait thought as she stretched her legs under the warm covers. She had, and very thoroughly, by each of the two lovers she'd had over the years.
Both were older, and both were thoughtful and tender in bed. She had nearly married the second man. Perhaps she should have, she thought now.
Perhaps then she wouldn't lie awake nights wondering what it would be like if Tyler was there with her, using that lean, powerful body to pleasure her.
In her mind's eye she saw him undressing her, his strong, callused hands stroking reverently over her breasts until the tips were pointed and aching. And she saw his hands move lower, across her belly to her thighs. She saw the desire rising in his eyes.
The image was vivid enough to make her mouth go dry and her palms grow moist with the need to feel the sinewy strength beneath his taut warm skin.
She saw herself tracing the corded veins winding down his arms. Exploring the warm, broad expanse of his chest. She knew that the hair on his chest was a soft golden brown. She had seen it curling damp against his skin when he'd been wearing surgical scrubs. Perhaps there was gray mixed with the gold now.
Would it be soft? she wondered. Would it twine lower, to disappear into the coarser hair around his belly button?
Cait inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. "Remember what happened last time you fantasized about Tyler McClane," she muttered as she tried to rub the heat from her cheeks with her palms. It didn't help.
* * *
Tyler pushed one fist under his pillow and tried to summon the familiar numbness that had sustained him for so long. The illuminated dial of the clock taunted him almost as much as his body did. In another hour it would be dawn.
He closed his eyes and tried to will himself into unconsciousness. But that was worse. He kept seeing the soft glow in Cait's eyes before he'd kissed her.
No other woman had ever looked at him with quite that blend of honest emotion and subtle sensuality. Her mouth had a way of smiling at him, even when she was speaking of the most somber matters. And her chameleon eyes were bold and yet shy at the same time.
He liked the way her breath caught just before she laughed. And he liked the way her eyes took on a special softness when she w
as speaking of his daughter. A man could withstand a hell of a lot if he had a woman like Cait beside him.
In prison, denying his physical needs had become a habit imposed on him by circumstance. A habit he hadn't been all that inclined to break since he'd been out.
But the need he felt for Cait was more than purely sexual. Somehow it was all mixed up with his emotions. Try as he might, he couldn't separate the longing for her warmth and understanding from the urgent, near-constant craving for her body.
And at the moment it was her body he longed to feel pressing soft and pliant against his. He knew the sweetness of her smile but not the sweetness of her body. He knew the warmth of her laughter but not the hot feel of her passion. Just the thought of sheathing himself in that living warmth brought a surge of blood to his loins. A moan escaped his control. Shuddering, he laid his hand on his body. Instead of the slick hardness of his own flesh, he felt the warm satin of hers.
His thoughts splintered.
He groaned. His breath came faster.
She had such a sweet mouth. He longed to feel it warm and yielding under his. Just as he longed to feel her body against his again, opening to receive him. Letting him fill her until they were welded together.
His body engorged, stretching the skin until it burned. He longed to feel her hand on him. Stroking.
He longed to be touching her in the same sweet way. His body convulsed, and he cried her name. But there was no one to hear. He was alone.
* * *
The phone by the bed rang, waking him. Tyler had one arm wound around his pillow. The blanket was twisted around his naked loins. His face was pressed into the thin mattress. He decided to ignore the shrill summons. The phone kept ringing.
"Damn," he muttered as he gradually became aware that the caller didn't intend to hang up until he answered. Eyes still closed, he rolled over and fumbled for the phone.
"Yeah?" he muttered into the mouthpiece.
"Lord, Ty, you sound like a hibernating bear. Think I'll call back when you're in a better mood." It was Dante, and the bastard was laughing.
"Screw you, Dante." Tyler gave a yawn before opening his eyes. Sunlight poured through the tears in the window blind, striping the floor. The air in the apartment was cold, shivering his bare chest.
PAROLED! Page 11