PAROLED!

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  His gaze roamed hungrily. His face was set, but his eyes were alive, yearning.

  "I swear, no dream was ever like this." She heard reverence in his voice, and a tightly controlled yearning.

  Her own voice was thick as she whispered his name. Without clothes, his body had the sculpted symmetry of classical male beauty.

  Bone and muscle and sinew combined perfectly to fashion a man whose might was obvious. A man of long, sinewy thighs and powerful calves. Of spreading, hard-packed shoulders and a lean tapering torso.

  Even the thin lines of healing flesh slanting over his right shoulder and curving low on his hip added to the image of indomitable strength.

  But it was the potent shaft of his virility that drew her gaze. It rose hot and heavy and ready from a nest of tightly curled hair of pure gold.

  "Oh, Tyler," she whispered.

  Her gaze came up to find his. Wry amusement softened his hard mouth, but the fire in his eyes smoldered even more hotly. "It's been a long time for me," he said with a rough-hewn shyness she would scarcely have expected from a man of his virility. "Don't expect too much."

  The firelight played over her slumberous eyes and soft smile.

  "If you're worrying about me, don't."

  Her voice was warm and soothing, like balm on an unhealed wound. Still, he found himself as nervous as a bridegroom. She was so small, so very feminine. What if he hurt her? What if he couldn't make himself wait long enough to satisfy her? In his dreams, every man is a perfect lover. It was a different story when a man hadn't held a woman in his arms like this for more than five years.

  Still, because he would surely go mad if he didn't, he ran his hand down the smooth, sleek length of her. Over the waist that seemed impossibly small to the enticing curve of her belly. His fingers lingered, testing the satiny warmth.

  Cait's fingers dug into his shoulders. Her husky, almost breathless moans were driving him beyond what little control he had left.

  Conscious of the blood hammering in his throat and pooling like liquid fire in his groin, he slipped two fingers inside her, between the soft folds covered by whorls of silky hair. She was wet and ready and so very soft.

  With a cry she began moving against his fingers. His control shattered, and he withdrew his hand. Before she could protest the loss, he thrust into her until she had all there was of him. He caught her moan of pleasure with his mouth, determined to satisfy her first.

  He strained to move slowly. To savor the hot slickness of her against his throbbing flesh. His breath shuddered in and out, drawing her delicate scent into lungs tortured to near bursting.

  She kissed his neck, his shoulder, his jaw. He kissed her lips, her throat, her breasts.

  Suddenly she was the impatient one, matching each of his thrusts with a wild arching of her pelvis. Answering her, his movements became frantic. Out of control. He fought to stave off the explosion until he knew she had climaxed, but it had been too long for him.

  Something broke free inside him, like the last opening of his cell door. His body convulsed into hers. Pleasure mingled with a pain so intense he was unable to bite back the shuddering groan that came from deep inside.

  At almost that same moment she cried out, a low keening sound of release. Spent, he buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and held her tight. The tiny shuddering aftershocks of her body felt so good. Knowing that he had pleasured her gave him a measure of peace that had eluded him for far too long.

  Still drifting, Cait closed her eyes and gently stroked the bristly hair at the nape of his neck. His skin was wet with sweat and hot to the touch. But the tension that had been such a part of him was gone.

  "I'm too heavy," he muttered, stirring.

  "Not for me." She kissed his shoulder. "You're the best blanket I've ever had."

  She heard him chuckle and smiled. "I like that," she murmured against his hot skin.

  "Like what?" He sounded drowsy and yet aroused at the same time.

  "Your laugh. I missed that."

  He raised his head and kissed her soundly before rolling away. Before Cait could begin to feel abandoned, however, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and settled her against him.

  "Sure you're not cold?"

  "Positive. The fire is lovely." Lying close to him, having him under her power for even this short time, was the closest she had come to bliss in all her thirty-six years.

  Totally content, she nestled close and let her eyes drift shut. His hand stroked her arm, and his chest rose and fell evenly beneath her.

  "Is the floor too hard?"

  "Not to me, although I admit making love on my grandmother's favorite rug is a new experience for me."

  "For me, too." His hand came up to smooth the wispy hair away from her cheek.

  She opened her eyes and looked into his face. His hair was tousled from the play of her fingers. His expression was indulgent. He looked like a man who was extremely pleased with himself and the woman in his arms.

  "Was it worth the wait?"

  His laugh rumbled. "You know it was."

  "I knew it would be like this," she murmured.

  He raised his eyebrows. "You did, did you?"

  "Mmm. You're not the only one who had dreams."

  "Tell me," he ordered in a husky voice.

  "Only if you tell me yours first."

  "No way." His chuckle, more unrestrained this time, rumbled in her ear. "I know how you shrinks operate. You'll find all kinds of hidden meanings in every little detail."

  "What little details?" Her fingers played with the damp hair on his broad chest, and his muscles rippled in a reaction he couldn't control. Sinuously, like a cat stretching after a nap, she rubbed her leg against his.

  "Stop," he growled.

  Cait glanced up in time to catch an expression of desperate vulnerability.

  "Not until you talk, buster." She blew a kiss against his shoulder.

  "There was more than one dream," he hedged.

  "How many?" She bent her knee and began rubbing it over his thigh. His heart beat faster, and he shuddered.

  "Too many to talk about." His voice was raspy, and his expression turned intense.

  "Were you always making love to me?"

  "I told you I was."

  Her fingers meandered caressingly along the line of silky blond hair bisecting his chest. The hard flat muscles of his belly rippled, then grew rigid when her fingertips burrowed into the coarser, thicker thatch of hair below his navel.

  She had never been so bold, so exultantly confident in her own femininity. Her hand searched lower until she found the warm male flesh nestled in the hair. His skin was hot and smooth.

  "Were we naked?" she asked as her fingers encircled him. His body surged against her hand, growing hotter and harder until he more than filled her palm.

  "Cait—" The word ended on a groan, and he closed his eyes. "God, I can't take much more…"

  Cait raised herself on one elbow so she could watch his face. She'd never seen him so emotionally exposed. Knowing that she was the one who had brought him to this point was a more powerful stimulant than any drug.

  "Shall I tell you about my dream?" she asked, continuing her caresses.

  "No more," he managed to get out. He was helpless, and they both knew it.

  A heady excitement ran through her, bringing a flush to her face and a pounding in her veins. She loved the feel of his hardening flesh against her hand. She loved the rasp of his breathing and the musky heat of his body.

  "It's always by the ocean. On a very secluded, very private beach I've found."

  Her suddenly rapid breathing made it difficult to speak. She paused to slide her tongue along her lower lip. When Tyler groaned, she saw that he had been watching her. The hot hunger in his eyes momentarily took her breath away.

  "We've been sunbathing, so our skin is very warm," she continued in a voice that was suddenly husky. "There's a breeze. It smells of the sea."

  His hands clutched at th
e short nap of the rug. His head arched back. Teeth bared in pain and ecstasy, he began moving against her caressing hand.

  "I'm sleeping and so relaxed," she whispered, her breath catching. "And then you lean over to kiss me awake. Like this."

  As soon as her lips touched his, Tyler lost the last semblance of control. He pulled her on top of him, and his arms locked around her. His mouth, hot and hungry now, wouldn't be denied. He took all that she offered. Demanded more.

  She answered willingly. Now the fury was in her. Desperate, moaning pleas came from her throat. By the time he raised her hips and settled her over him, she was nearly insensate.

  Bracing her hands on the rug by his shoulders, she arched her back and began moving, quickly finding her own rhythm. As he began to move with her, accommodating her pace instead of his own, she knew finally, unequivocally, desperately, that she never wanted to let him go.

  * * *

  Kelsey and Cait, both in robes and slippers, were sitting in the midst of a mound of wrapping paper and bits of ribbon so vast it all but obliterated the pattern of the rug.

  The tree lights winked like gay stars. In the grate, a cheery fire burned. Outside, the sun was valiantly struggling to emerge from the low-lying clouds.

  "One more for Kelsey from Santa," Cait murmured as she leaned forward to hand the child the last present.

  Tyler's.

  Kelsey took it eagerly and without even noticing the lopsided bow, ripped off the ribbon and tore into the paper.

  Even as Cait smiled to herself, she felt a pang of sadness. Tyler should be here to see the glow of the tree lights reflected in Kelsey's eyes.

  "Look, Mama Cait! Santa brought me a doll."

  Eyes shining, Kelsey lifted the fragile Victorian doll from the nest of tissue and ran her finger over the smooth porcelain face. The long silky hair caught back in a tiny velvet bow was almost exactly the same rich golden color as Kelsey's. The doll's gown was a froth of lilac satin and lace. The tiny high-button shoes were made of soft white kid-skin

  "Do you like her?" Cait asked with an anxious smile.

  Kelsey beamed. "I love her! She's just like the ladies in the old pictures at the museum."

  "That's because she was made over a hundred years ago for a little girl just like you."

  "Like me?" Kelsey looked pleased. "Really?"

  "Really."

  Cait got to her feet and stretched her arms high over her head. Her spine was tight. Her muscles still burned with a strange deep ache. Her skin, too, was unusually tender.

  Lack of sleep, she tried to tell herself. Deep down, however, she knew the true cause. Tyler's kisses had swollen her lips. His whiskers had sensitized her skin.

  "I don't know about you, kiddo, but Mama Cait is hungry. How about I toast us a couple of bagels?"

  Kelsey looked up from a careful examination of the doll's ethereal face. "With cream cheese?" she asked with a hopeful grin.

  Cait smoothed a hand over her hips. "I really shouldn't," she muttered. "But what the heck, it's Christmas. Calories never count on holidays. It's a national law or something."

  Kelsey looked intrigued. "How come you know a law for everything?"

  "Simple. I'm a smart cookie."

  Kelsey giggled. Outside, the church bells began pealing. The sound triggered a rush of sadness. Merry Christmas, Tyler, Cait thought silently.

  "So, how about that breakfast?" she murmured as she smoothed Kelsey's thick bangs.

  "Okay."

  Cait glanced toward the mess scattered across the floor. "Tell you what. While I do the bagels, you get busy and pick up this room. Auntie Hazel is dropping by this afternoon, and we don't want her getting lost in here."

  Kelsey grinned. "It's not that bad."

  "Oh, no? You can't even see the rug. There could be a treasure chest full of diamonds under there and no one could find it."

  Kelsey threw her a long-suffering look, but Cait saw the reluctant acquiescence in her eyes.

  "Sit here, Prudence," she said sternly to the doll. "And don't fidget," she added as she busily stuffed wads of discarded paper into one of the now-empty boxes.

  "Prudence?" Cait quirked an eyebrow.

  Kelsey's chin took the same obstinate tilt as Tyler's. "Don't you like it?"

  Cait cleared her throat. "Well, it is a bit unusual."

  "I told you. She looks like these little girls in the museum whose daddy found gold or something. Mrs. Eddington said they were triplets." Kelsey gathered up the doll's box and started to stuff it, too, with the paper.

  "Oh, look! There's another present in here."

  It was small, about four inches square, and wrapped in silver paper and red ribbon. There was a tiny card attached.

  "To Cait from Santa," Kelsey read. Disappointment tightened one corner of her mouth before a grin chased it away. "Here, Mama Cait. Hurry up and open it."

  She dropped the present in Cait's lap, then hovered nearby with an expectant look on her face. Cait drew a shaky breath. The spiky letters on the card had been printed by Tyler. The package had been wrapped by him, as well. The bow was as lopsided as the one she had admired.

  "Mama Cait!" Kelsey wailed plaintively. "Don't be so poky."

  Cait smiled, but her fingers were impossibly clumsy. No doubt because they were shaking, she realized as she stripped off the ribbon and ran a nail under the tape securing the paper. The box was plain. Inside, something was wrapped in tissue paper.

  "Phooey. It's just another ornament," Kelsey said with a grimace of childish disappointment.

  Trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her stomach, Cait unwrapped it slowly and held it up to the light. It was a perfect globe of the thinnest glass, hand-blown by an expert. Inside was a candle with a flickering flame. It was exquisite.

  "Here's another card." Kelsey dug it from the box, held it up and read loudly, "Santa grants every good boy and girl one special wish." She frowned. "What's that mean, Mama Cait?"

  For a moment the lump lodged in Cait's throat prevented speech. "It means that this is a wishing candle," she murmured past the thickness.

  "A wishing candle? What's that?"

  "Just what it says on the card, darling." Cait took the card from the child's hand and scanned the familiar printing.

  "If you've been good all year, at Christmas Santa makes your fondest wish come true."

  "Who says?" Kelsey demanded.

  Your daddy, Cait told her silently. Only he wasn't your daddy when he told me that.

  "Someone I used to know. A long time ago."

  "Before I was born?"

  "Yes."

  "A boyfriend?"

  "No, just a friend." Cait ran her finger over the smooth glass. "A dear friend."

  Kelsey cocked her head to one side and squinted into Cait's downcast face. "Do you miss your friend like I miss my friends in Hillsborough?" she asked with a child's directness.

  "Yes," Cait admitted through a sudden rush of tears. "I miss him very much."

  After slipping the card into the pocket of her robe, she went to the tree and hung the wishing candle on one of the upper branches. The glow from a nearby bulb turned the delicate glass into a rainbow shower of color.

  "Finish tidying up, darling," she said without turning. "I'll be in the kitchen." Before Kelsey could ask her any more painful questions, she left the room.

  By the time Cait reached the kitchen, tears were running down her face. She dashed them away with the back of her hand and poured herself a cup of coffee. The hot liquid helped soothe her throat but only made the flutters in her stomach worse.

  It had been Christmas Eve, she remembered as she stood in front of the window and watched her neighbor's cat stalk an indignant mountain jay.

  Both she and Tyler had drawn the short straws and were on duty. Around midnight, they had shared a pot of coffee and a piece of fruitcake.

  Before they'd eaten it, Tyler had produced a tiny red candle he'd cadged from the kitchen and stuck it into the cake. Over the
flame, he had smiled at her in a way she had never seen before.

  "When I was a kid, my grandmother used to make me a wishing candle every Christmas. Sometimes it was the only present I got, but I didn't care."

  "What's a wishing candle?" she had asked, just as Kelsey had.

  His gray eyes had taken on a warmth that she'd never seen before. "Santa grants one special wish on Christmas Eve, but only if you've been very good. Have you been very good, Cait?"

  "Very," she'd murmured.

  "Then you may have one wish."

  She'd glanced down at the flame flickering between them. One wish, or a dozen. They would all be the same. More than anything in the world, she wanted to spend the rest of her life making Tyler happy.

  "Have you ever had a wish come true?" she had asked him.

  He had smiled then, the first fully relaxed smile he had ever given her. It had transformed the harsh angles of his face and softened the flint in his eyes to a beautiful velvet gray.

  "My wishes were always the same. That I would someday be a doctor. But not just a good doctor. The best!"

  The fervor in his voice had been as mesmerizing as that rare off-center smile. Cait had almost told him then that she loved him. But something had held her back. Three weeks later she had introduced him to Crystal. She had never seen him smile like that again.

  * * *

  Tyler turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain. He was right. The phone by his bed was ringing. Scowling, he grabbed the towel from the rack and padded naked into the bedroom. He caught up the phone in midring.

  "McClane." He cradled the phone against his shoulder and wrapped the towel around his waist.

  "Merry Christmas."

  Just the sound of Cait's voice had his heart slamming against his rib cage. "Merry Christmas. How do you feel?"

  "Tired but wonderful. How about you?"

  "Lonely," he said before he realized he was revealing more of himself than he should.

  "Me too."

  He could almost see her sitting at her desk with her eyes taking on that sleepy, sated look and her lips parted in a smile that was just for him. She would never know how precious one of the smiles could be to a man who had lived without friends for so long.

  "How's our little girl?" He shifted the phone to the other ear and sat down on the edge of the bed.