Garrett tossed a chip in the air, caught it expertly between his teeth. “You got it, Seth.”
***
For some reason, Garrett insisted on stopping at Pummelhof’s Market on their way into Milwaukee. Cait checked her watch—quarter-to-six—and wondered when they’d actually end up at the “incredible bistro” Garrett had raved about at her mother’s house.
“What’s the name of the place we’re going to?” she asked, getting suspicious, and watching as he selected an eggplant, a handful of yellow onions, three large potatoes and garlic cloves.
“The Grecian Taverna.” Garrett studied several ripe tomatoes before selecting two. “Could you grab a cucumber please?” He pointed to the other side of the store. “And a head of lettuce?”
When she rejoined him, a tub of ripe Kalamata olives and a container of ruby-red strawberries had found their way into his basket. Garrett strode toward the register.
“We’re not going to Milwaukee, are we?” She gazed up at him.
“Nope. Never said The Grecian Taverna was in Milwaukee. You just inferred that part back at your mom’s house.”
“Where would this exciting dining establishment be located?”
“New Brighton.”
“I know every place in New Brighton and there are only a handful of ethnic spots. None are Greek.”
His lips twitched. “It just opened up.”
“Where?”
“My condo.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
He tried to give her a wounded look. “Listen here, Miss Walsh. I picked up a pound of ground lamb yesterday, and I’ve been itching to make good use of it. You can come to my place and have moussaka with me, or you can go home and eat some frozen-solid mystery meal. Your choice, sweetheart.”
She knew she could never turn down an offer like that.
Back at his condo, Garrett unloaded the food and told her to make the musical selections. She consulted the iPod and decided on some Elton John. She also washed, sliced, diced and followed his orders willingly, for once.
“I didn’t realize you were such an expert chef,” she said, slivering the eggplant into thin circles.
“I’m not.”
She laughed openly. “Since when does any cooking-challenged man know how to whip up a moussaka? You’re hiding something.”
He stirred the cream sauce at low-heat over the burner and shook his head. “I can make two complicated things. This and Sicilian-style lasagna. Grandma Maria taught me. Meat-based layer dishes. But that’s the extent of my gourmet training.”
“So, most of the time then you eat…what?”
“Sandwiches. Ice cream. Uncomplicated fruits like bananas or grapes.” He began frying the eggplant in olive oil. “You?”
“I can make tacos.” She chopped up a tomato and watched as he flipped an eggplant slice then gave the ground lamb a quick stir in its pan. “Mom taught me chili, spaghetti, stuffed peppers, things like that, but mostly I’m a Lean Cuisine girl. I’m too lazy.”
“You, Caitlin Livie Walsh, are not lazy.” He gave her a thoughtful, intense look before turning his attention back to the stovetop. “Chop the lettuce for the salad,” he commanded.
An hour later they were seated at the small dining table and eating. The scent of allspice roused her, infiltrated her pores, reminded her there was a world beyond this little corner of Wisconsin. If Odysseus could take a voyage of discovery, maybe she, too, should set sail sometime. Toward adventure, for once, not running from it.
Moussaka, complemented by a salad tossed with oil and vinegar, made for a wonderful meal. It tasted warm and spicy and like a summer night on Mykonos. Not that she’d ever been there, but she could imagine.
Garrett eyed her quizzically and poured glasses of red wine for them as “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” played.
When they were done eating, he took their plates to the kitchen and told her to put on something upbeat. “We’ve listened to enough laments about relationships gone bad, Cait.” Then he demanded that she stay the hell out of the kitchen until he brought out dessert. “Just sit on the sofa and relax, would you?”
She did as he asked. Well, she sat. Relaxing was impossible.
Ten minutes later, he entered the room and turned down the lights. He carried a plate of washed strawberries and a glass bowl of something white and creamy.
“Mr. Koolemar’s Polar Bear Freeze ice cream,” he explained.
He pulled her onto the Persian rug with him, setting the food on the parquet floor. He picked up one large berry by its stem and swirled it in the ice cream. Then he lifted the whitened tip and ran it along her lower lip until she licked it.
“Open up for me, Cait.”
The chill and sweetness burst into her mouth when she bit down on the strawberry. The flavor was so strong, her eyes watered. Every sensation was super-sized. Garrett nibbled on the second half of the berry then fed her another one. When she’d swallowed, he dipped a third berry in the cold treat and decorated the corners of her mouth with it. He leaned in and kissed the white cream away, lingering as if time were never a consideration.
The heat of his mouth deliciously contrasted the frostiness of the cream, melting the sweet dots and dashes into a cool lotion on her skin.
S.O.S., her logical brain cried out. But her emotions ignored the plea. Every normal feeling had gotten jumbled.
He grew more ambitious and trailed a line of white from her lips over her chin to the hollow of her throat, sending tender kisses to erase the pathway he’d created.
Every one of her cells shimmied. Her hands had a private agenda and began tracking the movements of his body with hers. Her fingertips pressed into his chest and traveled on an exciting voyage.
“Lie down,” he whispered, helping to ease her to the floor. Her head, her body, cushioned by the thick rug, sank into the colored threads and melded with them.
His nimble fingers unbuttoned her shirt and drew it off. The ivory lace bra was unlatched and likewise discarded. He traced each nipple with his pinky, leaning back for a clear perspective.
“You’re beautiful, Cait.” Then he kissed her on the mouth immediately, as if to keep her from blurting out a denial. It was a hot, deep kiss that shorted out her fears and her memories of loss for longer than she felt was prudent.
Distrust, betrayal, pain—they still lingered deep inside her, but they were all finally put back in proportion to life’s easier emotions. Even conjuring up Fredric’s image wasn’t enough to distort them again.
Garrett picked up another strawberry. Maintaining his role as scribe, he dipped it into the Polar Bear Freeze, penning words of love over her heart.
“Lovely Lady,” he whispered as he wrote. “Sexy Mystery. My Dreamsicle.”
She stiffened at the chill of the ice cream, the tips of her breasts hardening, but he licked and sucked and tasted and, soon, all of her turned to flame.
He journeyed down her chest and belly with the white topping, unfastening her navy slacks and sliding them over her hips. She heard him draw in a quick breath.
“You stun me,” he murmured.
Garrett’s heart was beating at a machine-gun pace. The way Cait’s skin flushed under his lips made him gulp in air, but he was sure only a few parts of him had gotten enough oxygen. His arousal was painful. He’d wanted her for too, too long.
He tore his shirt off and tried to ignore the increasing pressure against his zipper. He tucked his fingers into the sides of her ivory panties and removed them. Her gasp almost undid him.
“There’s so much I want to do to pleasure you,” he whispered in her ear.
He reached for the berry again, swirled it in cream and parted her legs. He painted the soft inside of her thighs, going higher with every stroke. She moaned when he brushed his lips against her, lapping up first the sweetness of the cream and then the sweetness of only her.
“Oh, God, Garrett, I don’t think I can…you just can’t keep…oh, but please don’t stop.�
�
He didn’t stop.
Cait murmured under her breath at the torture he inflicted. The cold dessert, the warm air, his hot tongue… The three strands of temperature swirled together outside of her, then inside. And when all three joined forces, the power of that bond ripped her apart. Only the aftershocks of an improbable connection remained.
She pulled him up, clung to him, buried her face in his chest. The heat of her breath nearly made condensation form on his taut skin. His open mouth found hers, and she felt the length and weight of his body meld to her conforming one.
She fingered his belt, unhooked it with one hand, and in the next motion managed to undo the clasp on his pants. She reached for his zipper.
The telephone rang.
“We’re ignoring that.” His voice was raspy against her ear.
It rang again.
“It can just go to voicemail, right?”
“Right.”
She unzipped his black pants.
Another ring, and another.
The automatic answering system began recording.
After Garrett’s simple greeting, a familiar voice began to speak: “Hey, G, it’s me. I thought you might want to know. Jacob’s had a complication with his leg. They just rushed him back to the hospital.”
STEP 10:
Transfer the mixture into the stainless-steel cylinder
of a rock-salt and ice freezer.
No matter what newfangled contraptions you can buy
on the Internet these days,
I still say the old ways are the best.
~From Mr. Koolemar’s Top Secret,
Kool Kreme Ice Kreamations Recipe Book, pg. 97
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“B-l-o-o-d-y hell,” Garrett said, springing to his feet and racing toward the phone. He snatched up the receiver. “Hi, Marianne, I’m here,” he said on a ragged exhale. “What happened?”
“Well, Jacob’s toes were aching more than usual. When he went in to have it checked out, they did an x-ray and discovered a blood clot that broke away and was blocking one of the vessels in his foot. Daniel tried to explain it to me. He said it was called thrombo-something. Thromboembolism, I think. The doctors in New Haven were worried about it traveling to his heart.”
“Jesus. Were they able to dissolve it or remove it?” What the hell did they do when something like this happened?
“They’re working on that now. I’m still in Philly tonight, but Daniel and I are driving up to Connecticut tomorrow to see him. We think he’s going to be okay. Don’t panic. But I didn’t want you to find out from anyone else. Figured I’d better call.”
“Thanks, Sis.” He grabbed for the pen and paper on the counter. “Do you have the phone number to Jacob’s room?”
While Marianne hunted for it, he gave Cait’s gorgeous naked body a regretful glance. He watched as she reached for her clothes and began pulling them back on. Her eyes looked haunted when she glanced up at him, concern etched on her face. He blew her an air kiss and hoped she’d smile. She did.
Marianne recited the number and he jotted it down. “Okay, I got it. I’ll give him a call there.”
“He’ll be glad to hear from you, G.”
Garrett hung up the phone and stared at the receiver. Cait came to stand near him. She smelled like strawberry shortcake. In spite of the news he’d just received, his mouth began to water. He slipped an arm around her waist then told her about the conversation with his sister.
“Do you need to fly back there?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not just yet. Besides, there’s nothing I can do. I’m not a doctor, and he’s got a great team working on him.” He sighed. “Plus, Marianne’s boyfriend Daniel is headed there tomorrow with her. If there are any problems, he’ll help the family get it straightened out. He’s Mr. Medicine.”
He couldn’t believe how bitterly those words came out of his mouth.
She shot him a sharp glance. “You don’t like Marianne’s boyfriend?”
He hugged her tighter and silently kissed the top of her head. “He’s okay. Actually, he’s a real good guy. Daniel’s not the source of the problem. I’m just frustrated with everyone tonight.”
He released her and paced around the room, an angry energy seeping into his veins. He was so damned tired of being made to feel guilty. Being told, directly or not, to go back home when he knew it wasn’t where he belonged. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought Jacob orchestrated this complication in order to push him on a plane sooner. He scowled at the Persian rug.
“Maybe this isn’t a good time for me to be here,” Cait said in a small voice. “I’m sensing you’d rather be alone.”
He heard the unspoken question she was asking. The question most women ask at some point: “Do you want me here even when you don’t need me to be?”
He couldn’t answer that tonight, although his body still throbbed from wanting her and the built-up frustration was going to make it a hell of a long evening.
“Look, I’ll drive you back to you mom’s so you can pick up your car,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” But she didn’t look like it was okay. She still gave him a compassionate glance or two, but she seemed distracted. She waltzed right by the strawberries and didn’t even shoot them a second look. It felt as though she’d turned her back on him. As though she’d already forgotten what they shared.
His rational, intellectual side knew the change in the evening’s tone wasn’t her fault or, really, even his. It wasn’t reasonable to blame her for reacting as she did to the interruption or to his consequent irritation with his family, but her easy departure pissed him off anyway.
This just proved the truth again. He needed to concentrate on his job and on things he could control and understand. Letting a woman get too close, letting himself get too attached, that would only make him crazy.
And here was the depressing bottom line: When it came to women, Jacob may have had it right all along.
***
Cait was tempted to stop and pick up a DVD on her way back to Ridgewood Grove, but it was late and she had too much on her mind. Alone in her car, she blushed recalling the intimacies she’d shared with Garrett. His touch was gentle but deeply inquisitive. She felt she’d been asked a thousand unspoken questions with his fingertips, and her body had responded by screaming, “Yes! Yes!” in reply to every single one.
She’d wanted him so much tonight. She squirmed in the driver’s seat just remembering how close they’d come to making love. But the transparency she experienced in his presence was embarrassing, too. It was more than nakedness or being probed by his eyes, his hands, his tongue. His power to hurt her had increased exponentially by that one little act on the Persian rug.
And then, after everything, his goodnight kiss had seemed downright dismissive, as though he were angry with her but didn’t want to admit it. His inability to let her in on his emotions trivialized the romantic moments that came before. He might share his body, but she knew he had no intention of sharing his life.
Marianne’s call might have separated them that night, but how long until Garrett would be out the door anyway and back where he belonged? How long before he got bored or the winds of ambition blew him in another direction—far and away from her?
Cait forced her mind back to the Harvest Hoopla and the person responsible for stealing funds. It was a topic that was worrisome on one level but safer on another. Pieces didn’t connect, but too many people were involved for the problem to be insignificant.
Less than a week until the event. This was what she needed to focus her attention on. Not on Garrett. Not anymore.
***
“Tell me they’re sending you home soon,” Garrett said to his brother. “Tell me they’ve found the problem, fixed it and are releasing you to your own shoddy care, far away from the hospital staff.”
“Why the hell would I want to leave?” Jacob said, laughing on the line. “Amelia’s amazin
g.”
“Another nurse?”
“Oh, no.”
“A doctor?”
“Guess again, little brother.”
“A tax attorney for the hospital?”
“Well, now you’re getting closer.” Jacob sounded disappointed he couldn’t prolong the game. “She’s an insurance agent.”
“What happened to Patricia and her latex gloves, or was she so last Wednesday?”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a very literal person?”
Garrett sighed. “So you broke up with her, too, huh?”
“Hey, you worry about your own love life and leave me to arrange mine.”
“As you wish,” he said, although his brother had no idea how much help he needed in that arena. “You sure you’re doing okay, Jacob? You sure I can’t do anything for you?”
“Other than come home for my birthday, no. I’m fine. Sorry Sis got you all riled up. She worries about us, you know.”
“I know,” Garrett said. “But she doesn’t have to worry. Not really. Not about you and me.” He weighted his words with meaning, hoping he didn’t need to spell them out. Hoping Jacob would just understand. They were brothers and best friends, after all. Their love for each other couldn’t be measured, and it didn’t have to be spoken aloud all the time.
“No, she doesn’t have to worry,” Jacob agreed. “And I’ll tell her that when I see her tomorrow.”
***
Garrett’s frustrated swing made the ball slice dangerously to the right, veering way off track from the seventh hole of the lush Four Gates golf course.
Sweet Temptations Collection Page 33