by Joan Kilby
She breathed in deeply and slowly, taking the air all the way to her stomach. Then she let it out through her mouth. Normally that would calm her. Not quite.
Another breath. She would go back out there, act normally and not do anything dumb. Shoulders back and down, she opened the door.
Rafe was standing on the other side, fist raised to knock. Face-to-face. She stared. That mouth.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, the words tumbling out. “I don’t know what came over me. That was inappropriate. Please forget it ever happened. I’ll go out to my studio. Stay out of your way. I go a little crazy when I’m not working. Please don’t think anything of it.”
She paused for breath.
“What just happened out there?” He looked shell-shocked, as if he hadn’t taken in a word she’d said.
“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” she babbled. “I didn’t mean to kiss you. Well, obviously on one level I did. I’ve been thinking of it all day. And yesterday—”
“I’ve been thinking about nothing else.” His dazed eyes settled on her mouth. “I only know two things. I shouldn’t be doing this. And I don’t want to stop.” He kissed her again. “Tell me to stop.” His voice was low and rasping. Almost pleading.
Holding his gaze, she took his hands and settled them on her hips. The heat of his fingers burned through her thin cotton yoga pants. He drew her closer.
Rafe glided the tip of his tongue into the hollow behind her ear. His mouth moved over her neck, his breath warm against her skin.
“I don’t want you to stop.” Easing back, she met his hot dark eyes and melted. “I want to go to bed with you.”
He went still. Lexie felt every hair on her body stand on end. She held her breath.
“I should not be doing this,” he said again, strip ping his shirt off. Underneath he wore a white T-shirt that accentuated his tanned shoulders and strapping chest.
If he was prey to her cougar, he was willing prey.
Her nerves jumping, she stepped back, pulling him toward her by his belt. Kissing him as he stumbled forward. Her breath got stuck somewhere between her throat and her chest as she worked his buckle.
And then he was shucking off his gray trousers and tossing them, along with his shirt. Lexie drank in the sight of him. Her last lover had been in his for ties with the beginnings of a paunch and a softening jawline. Although a hard body wasn’t everything, Rafe’s smooth skin, sculpted muscles and erection were just…wow.
She practically tore her clothes off, trembling with need, almost unable to stand. She pushed down his black boxers as he fumbled her bra off. He cupped her breasts in his hands, sucking hard on one nipple, as he slid her panties over her hips. They were both naked, pressing against each other, so hot she could swear she heard her skin sizzle against his.
“Oh, hell,” he groaned into her ear. His hands tightened. “I don’t have any condoms. Do you?”
“No. But I have an IUD.” She rested her fore head against his chest, breathing hard, praying they weren’t stopping now. “I’m healthy.” She glanced up, searching his eyes. “You?”
He met her gaze straight on. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Growling low in her throat, she pulled him down on top of her on the bed in a tangle of limbs, tongues and hands. She was aching to feel him inside her. His biceps tensed as he poised over her. His thighs nudged between hers. So much power, so much heat. Lexie ran her restless hands over his hips, urging him.
Thick and hard, he plunged. Lexie thrust her hips upward until he filled her completely. She savored the delicious sensation, her legs trembling with strain.
He thrust again, grinding into her, his breath hot against her cheek. “Tell me if I’m too rough.”
She was so aroused she couldn’t speak.
His low voice rumbled next to her ear, saying wicked things that made her laugh and gasp. And all the time he was moving, pumping, hard and fast.
She climaxed quickly in a white heat that obliterated everything but the waves of pleasure pulsing through her. Dimly she was aware of Rafe, every muscle taut as he strained above her. And then an unearthly groan as he spilled himself into her.
RAFE OPENED his eyes. In the dim light of Lexie’s bedroom he could see her tangled blond hair, a bare shoulder and a small square of pillow. He nuzzled her neck, breathed in her scent.
He rolled over onto his back. She stirred sleepily and rolled with him, draping an arm across his chest.
Suddenly he felt very cold.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Obviously, he hadn’t been thinking.
He didn’t want to think. He wanted to bury himself in Lexie again. To trace the whorls of the shell tattoo on her hip with his tongue, to dip lower, licking his way up the slender muscle of her inner thigh. He was getting hard again just thinking about it.
Larry didn’t have to hear about this.
Not if Rafe did the audit properly, everything aboveboard. No fudging to save Lexie money. No going easy on her, overlooking the odd painting sale to reduce her income. After all, she wasn’t expecting anything like that—
Was she?
He felt even colder. Could she have seduced him so he’d reduce her taxes? People tried offering much less with the same expectation.
Nah. That was crazy. She wasn’t the type.
On the other hand, how well did he really know her?
LEXIE PEERED over the mound of files between her and Rafe. The best sex she’d ever had, bar none. This morning, though, he was ignoring her. He’d barely looked at her.
“Can I claim video rentals?” she asked.
Rafe kept his head down, the calculator clicking nonstop. “Did they inspire you to paint?”
“Everything inspires me.” She frowned at the receipt in her hand. “Except doing my taxes.”
“Claim the video.”
She dropped it on the Save pile.
Theirs was just a fling, she knew that. Rafe was a government tax agent. She’d known him for all of two days. As soon as the audit was over he’d be hitting the road.
Anyway, he was too young for her.
“Dinner at the pub?” she asked, moving on to the next receipt.
“Not unless it was a meeting with a gallery owner or a potential buyer or somehow business-related.”
She tossed the receipt in the rubbish bin. Going through receipts was the most boring thing in the world. Her gaze kept drifting to Rafe. She wanted to go over there and wrestle him to the ground and kiss him until he cried uncle.
She rose restlessly, and paced through the living room, coming to a halt at the bookshelf. The quietly ticking skeleton clock caught her eye. She carried it back to the table.
Lexie laid her chin on her folded hands and studied the series of linked wheels of decreasing size. In the time it took the largest wheel to turn a quarter of the way around, the next wheel had spun a full circle and the next one down had gone around five times. The final wheel turned a spring that was coiled in a loose spiral that expanded and contracted with each click of a cog.
Like a heartbeat.
The minute hand ticked over to twelve and the hour hand pointed to three. There was a whirring noise and a tiny hammer struck a chime.
She glanced up to share her delight and found Rafe watching her. Finally, he was looking at her. “Do you want to…” She nodded in the direction of her bedroom.
A red flush spread across his cheeks. “I have to get this finished.”
God, what was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have been so direct. She was scaring him. But they couldn’t just act as if nothing had happened. Last night they’d stopped long enough to eat dinner then had gone back to bed. He’d gotten up before she awoke and went back to his BB.
“I know what’s going on,” she said. “You’re feeling guilty because you’re not supposed to sleep with clients.”
“Something like that.” he muttered.
“That doesn’t mean you have to ignore me,”
she said matter-of-factly. “Last night was amazing. Can’t we just accept that we have this freakish natural chemistry and enjoy it until you have to ride into the sunset?”
He put down his calculator and dragged a hand across his face. With his chin in his palm, he stared at her. “I can’t reduce your taxes because we slept together.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “Is that what you think?” she demanded, surging to her feet. Slips of paper fluttered to the floor. “You think I’m hoping you’ll give me some sort of concession for…for services rendered?”
Rafe started to shake his head. “I—”
“I’m an artist, not a… Oh!” she exclaimed, hands clenched. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing.”
She brushed past him, striding through the kitchen and across the backyard. Sorting receipts was bullshit. She needed to at least attempt to paint.
Inside her studio she paced some more, trying to calm down. Of all the arrogant assholes. He had a hell of a nerve saying that to her after the things they had done together. He should have said no last night if he was so worried about his precious integrity.
Sienna’s portrait struck her as terrible, no good at all. Maybe if she started over, layering in the background before she even began on the face….
Her large canvases, stretched onto wooden frames, were on top of the high cupboard. Jack had put them there for her, out of the way. Dragging a stool over, she climbed onto it and reached up. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the top canvas. Frustrated, she stretched onto tiptoe, leaning closer.
“Lexie,” Rafe said from behind her.
Startled, she glanced over her shoulder. The shift in her balance made the stool rock dangerously. Arms flailing, she tried to catch herself. Rafe ran forward but she was able to right herself before he could help.
“I was fine until you yelled,” she snapped. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. In fact, better not come near me at all. I might try to seduce you again.”
“I’m sorry.” He stood below her, awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Well, you did!” She slowly got down. God help her, she still wanted him. Realizing that only made her angrier.
“The fact remains, I shouldn’t have slept with you,” he said. “It isn’t just some company policy, this is the government. Tax agents are supposed to maintain an independent state of mind. We can’t allow ourselves to be bribed with expensive scotch or restaurant meals—”
“I wasn’t trying to bribe you.” She glared at him.
“I admitted I was wrong. I apologized.” He spun away and back again. “I don’t know what more you want from me.”
“I want you to kiss me.”
He stared at her. “Kiss you? Are you trying to make me lose my mind?” Then with a groan he took her in his arms.
Lexie pressed her lips to his. But she’d barely registered the earthy scent of his skin, the firmness of his lips, the heat rising between them, when he abruptly pulled away, leaving her gasping.
“I can’t concentrate when I’m around you. And if we’re in bed, I’m not getting your audit done.” He sank onto the same stool she’d just got off and propped his elbows on his knees. “What am I going to do?”
“Kiss me,” she repeated.
“I don’t think you fully understand just what’s coming once I finish the audit. You’re going to owe a lot of money. In my experience people tend to want to shoot the messenger.”
“I’m not going to blame you for my mistake,” she said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I did the wrong thing, not filing a tax return.”
“Not just wrong. It’s illegal,” he reminded her. “There will be a fine.”
“I don’t usually jump into bed with every hot guy that comes along.” She took his hand and flipped it over, placing hers on top, palm to palm. She could feel the energy flow from him to her, feel the surge of heat in her blood. Her eyes met his. She could tell he felt it, too.
Lexie believed in letting the things that were meant to happen, happen.
“I. Can’t. Do. This,” Rafe said.
She released his hand. “All right. If that’s the way it has to be.”
“Good.” He sounded weary. Relieved and regretful at the same time. “I’ll take the envelopes back to my bed and breakfast and work on them there.”
Lexie turned away. “Fine. You know the way out.”
RAFE LEANED back and stretched his arms over his head. He’d set up his laptop on the small table at the bed and breakfast. The cozy sitting room contained a pair of love seats, a coffee table and a kitchenette with coffee-making facilities. A door opened into a bedroom where a light glowed in the en suite.
Envelopes and piles of receipts were spread over the furniture and the floor. He’d gotten a lot done without Lexie around to distract him. Lunch had been a toasted tomato sandwich while he worked and he’d ordered take-out Thai food for dinner.
Now it was nearly eight o’clock. Murphy had lain with his muzzle on his paws staring hopefully at him for the past hour.
“All right, Murphy. Let’s go for a walk.”
Hearing the magic word, Murphy sprang to his feet, ears pricked. He ran and picked up his lead where it was lying by the sliding glass doors. Rafe attached it to the dog’s collar and put on his running shoes.
The evening was still warm. The setting sun gave the sky a ruddy glow as he walked the few blocks toward the bay where low, windswept tea trees grew on the cliff top. A flock of rainbow lorikeets flitted past, swooping into the gum trees. Murphy trotted at Rafe’s side, making brief detours to sniff bushes, car wheels and mailboxes.
Rafe emerged onto Cliff Road and the whole of the molten bay lay before him. The sun was a crimson ball melting into the horizon and gold light glinted off the towers of Melbourne far across the water.
He didn’t see her at first, he was so caught up in the sunset. Then a movement in his peripheral vision made him glance to the right. Lexie stood thirty feet away toward the cul-de-sac end of the street. She was leaning against the guardrail, her full cotton skirt fluttering in the slight breeze. The warm glow of the sun illuminated her delicate features. Tendrils of blond hair clung to her cheeks.
Slowly he walked toward her, pulling on Murphy’s lead.
“Hey,” she said softly, staring out at the bay. “Don’t take your eyes off the sun or you’ll miss the moment when it sinks below the horizon.”
Rafe dutifully watched as the swollen red sun sank into the bay with astonishing speed, leaving a reddish-gold glow around the horizon.
“Do you come here to watch the sunset often?” he asked, then winced. “That sounded like a bad pickup line.”
“Quite often. Especially when the moon is full. Come on. The best is still to come.” Lexie took his hand, tugging him and Murphy down the road.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
It was electrifying to walk with her cool fingers wrapped in his. This touch was deliberate. And so very wrong. Which only made it all the more exciting.
They walked past big expensive homes on the right and the bay on their left to the lookout at the end of the street. Behind them was the afterglow of the sunset. In front of them, a harvest moon was rising out of the water. It cast a glittering path to the sandy beach and the colorful beach huts. Between the sunset and the moonrise the entire sky, the houses perched among the tea trees on the cliff, and the cove, pulsed with light.
On the water, a lone kayaker stroked his way home to the sailing club.
“I wonder if that’s Jack,” Lexie said, leaning on the railing. “It is!” She waved and after a second the kayaker lifted a dripping paddle in salute. She turned to Rafe, her face alight. “My brother.”
She stood so close in the small viewing platform that every breath he took was filled with her scent. “I thought we’d agreed not to see each other.”
She went very still. “We’re just watching the sunset, Rafe.
”
Rafe watched as Jack beached his kayak and hoisted it over his head. He made his way up the sand to the parking lot at the sailing club. By the time he strapped it to his truck and drove away, the moon had risen above the cliff, smaller now and turning silver.
And then the sunset was just a memory.
Rafe touched Lexie’s hair, feeling the silky texture of the long strands sifting through his fingers. “No one can know.”
Her eyes had deepened to the same color as the sky, lit by moonlight. “No one,” she repeated.
Rafe cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Her skin beneath his palms was chill, her lips warm. His heart racing, he slipped his arm around her waist. “My room is just up the road.”
CHAPTER FIVE
RAFE LED the way along the flagstone path that cut around the back of the two-story brick house. Murphy trotted ahead to wait at the wrought iron gate into the small private courtyard and the separate entrance where Rafe was able to come and go without disturbing the occupants at the house.
“This place used to belong to my ninth grade English teacher, Mrs. Bailey,” Lexie murmured.
Rafe opened the gate and reached in his pocket for keys. “Myrna Bailey? Tall, iron-gray hair, sergeant- major type?”
“Yes! She must be a hundred years old by now.”
“One hundred and ten.” Rafe opened the sliding door. “She makes the best blueberry muffins I’ve ever tasted.”
He flicked on a light.
“Murphy, lie down.” Obediently, the dog lay on the mat at the door and rested his muzzle on his paws.
Lexie started to unbutton Rafe’s shirt. “Am I going too fast?”
“No, but…” He kissed her forehead. “I can make tea if you’d like to talk for a bit.” He sat on the love seat and pulled her down beside him. “This isn’t just sex,” he said earnestly. “I really like you.”
“It’s sweet that you think I need reassurance,” Lexie said. “I like you, too. But this is just sex. Let’s not kid ourselves. Besides conflict of interest, you’re…well…you’re too young for me.”