In Jake’s bed.
She touched his face. Smoothed his dark hair back from his forehead and whispered his name.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, sweetheart.” And that was when she knew the dream was over.
This was real.
Jake, holding her close, his arms hard around her. Jake, his mouth on hers, tasting her, letting her taste him.
Yes, oh, yes, oh, yes!
Cat said his name again, her lips curving in a smile, and looped her arms around his neck. He groaned, kissed her another time, but then he clasped her hands and tried to draw them down.
She wouldn’t let it happen.
The near-darkness, the intimacy of the bed, of his kisses, made her bold.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured. “Please, Jake. I’ve waited so long for you to do this…don’t stop now.”
She felt his body shudder against hers.
“Cat,” he said hoarsely. “Honey, this isn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Hell, I shouldn’t have taken you to my bed, but you were sick and I wanted you close, where I could take care of you.”
“You’ve done that all along. Taken care of me, I mean.”
“I haven’t,” he said. She could hear the anger in his voice. “I’ve been awful to you, Cat.” He cupped her face, stroked the tangled curls back from her face. “Taking you out of that school without any real explanation,” he said, his tone softening. “Making you to fly to the States, ignoring you once you were here, acting as if I hated having you around when the truth was—the truth was—”
“What?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “What was the truth, Jake?”
What, indeed? He was a man who’d been going along a road, traveling contentedly from point A to point B, and then Cat had come along and changed everything. She’d turned his existence upside-down and he’d complained about it. To her. To himself. She was trouble, he’d said. She was a burden.
The truth was that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was more than he’d ever dreamed he’d find, and she could never be his.
“The truth,” he said roughly, “is that you’re wonderful—and I’ve wanted you from that first night in Rio.”
“Then take me,” she said softly. “Make love to me, Jake.”
He took her hand, brought her palm to his lips and kissed it. “I—I can’t.”
“But you just said—”
He silenced her with a kiss so deep that she was trembling when he ended it.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But I can’t take your virginity, sweetheart. It would be wrong.”
“It would be right,” Cat said fiercely, and as she said the words she suddenly knew the truth.
She loved Jake with all her heart.
She knew better than to tell him that. Fate had brought them together; reality would drive them apart. But she could tell him some of what she felt.
She had to tell him that much.
“Jake,” she said softly, “don’t you see? Making love with you will be the one thing, the only thing, I’ll have to remember when—when we’re not together anymore.”
Jake drew a shuddering breath and tried to close his ears to what she was saying. Instead, he gathered her against his heart, held her, rocked her…And then he groaned and kissed her with all the emotion he’d so carefully kept hidden.
From Cat.
From himself.
“Tell me what you like,” he said. “When I touch you…Tell me.”
“Anything you do. Any place you touch—”
Her head fell back as he put his open mouth against her throat. She tasted like wild honey; her scent made his head spin.
A surge of emotion he’d never felt before shot through him.
“Cat,” he whispered. It was all he trusted himself to say. There was more, the words just out of reach, but for now her name was enough. He said it again as he ran a gentle finger over the taut outline of her nipple beneath the cotton fabric of her gown, then sucked it into his mouth.
A wild sob of pleasure burst from Cat’s throat. She clasped Jake’s head, her fingers tunneling into his hair as she arched against him.
Her body was on fire. Her breasts tingled. She could feel liquid heat between her thighs, in that place Sister Angelica had once said was the ultimate source of evil.
She wanted to feel Jake’s hand there. Between her legs. Was she evil, too, for wanting such a thing? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t ask. She’d never—
She didn’t have to.
His hand slid under her nightgown, his callused fingers deliciously rough against her ankle. Her calf. Her knee.
Cat grabbed his wrist.
“Jake?” she said shakily. “Oh, God, Jake…”
His hand stilled. She felt his entire body tighten.
“Cat,” he said hoarsely. “Honey, if you want me to stop, tell me now.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she touched a hand to his cheek.
“Don’t stop,” she said, her voice so low he could hardly hear it. “I want—I want you to touch me everywhere. I need—I need—” Her breath caught. “Don’t hold back. Do everything. Show me everything. That’s what I want, Jake.”
The whispered plea raced through him like a flame touched to kindling. Jake cupped Cat’s face and kissed her hard, slanting his mouth over hers again and again. He nipped her bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth, groaned when he felt the first, delicate slide of her tongue against his.
The last bonds of restraint slipped away.
There were tiny buttons down the front of her old-fashioned nightgown. Putting it on her hours ago, he hadn’t trusted himself to deal with all those buttons. Instead, he’d slipped the gown over her head.
It turned out he couldn’t deal with them now, either. His fingers felt too big, too clumsy. With a growl, Jake hooked his fingers into the demure neckline and tore it open down to her waist. He dipped his head, kissed her breasts, licked her honeyed pink nipples.
Cat went wild in his arms. Her head thrashed against the pillow; her hair slid over it like silk. How many times had he imagined this? Cat in his bed, his name spilling from her lips as he made love to her?
He kept his eyes on her face as he cupped her breasts and feathered his thumbs over the tips. She cried out; her dark lashes fell to her cheeks, flushed the pale rose of a shell tossed on the shore by a storm.
She was beautiful. So beautiful.
And she was his.
He kissed her mouth, swallowing her soft cries of pleasure. He swept his hand down her warm flesh to her narrow waist and slid his fingers under the torn nightgown. His blood was roaring in his ears. A huge wave was building inside him; the need for release pounded through his body with each beat of his heart.
He wanted to tear away the rest of the nightgown. Rip off his clothes. Bury himself deep in Cat’s warmth.
He couldn’t.
It was her first time. And, in some way he couldn’t understand, it was his first time, too.
He wanted it to be perfect.
Jake took a deep breath. Forced himself to slow down. To undo the remaining buttons of the nightgown one by one, then fold back the edges. She was naked now, his Catarina, completely exposed to his eyes.
God, she was so lovely! Her skin was the color of richest cream; the curls that guarded her innocence were a soft whorl of chestnut and gold.
He kissed her belly. Her navel. Slid his hands beneath her and lifted her to him.
“Jake?” Her voice shook.
She said his name again as he moved lower, kissing his way down to those curls. Suddenly she reared up, hands outstretched to stop him. He caught her wrists, kissed her fingers, eased her back against the pillows.
“I want to taste you, Cat.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s wrong. You mustn’t—”
“How can it be wrong for me to worship you with my body?” He bent down, kissed her eyes, her mouth, her bre
asts. “Every part of you is beautiful, sweetheart. This part, this hidden flower, is the most beautiful of all, because it belongs only to me. To me, Cat. To—”
She cried out as he opened her to him, stroked the delicate flesh within, then put his mouth to her. She half rose off the bed; she fell back, sobbing with pleasure. He knew she was afraid of what he was making her feel, but she didn’t have to be.
She would fly into the sun and he’d be there to catch her, safely in his arms.
Jake lifted his head. Kissed her mouth. Let her taste their commingled passion on his lips.
“Let go,” he whispered. “Do it for me, sweetheart. Just let go.”
“I can’t,” she said brokenly. “I can’t. Jake—”
He kissed her again, slid his hand between her thighs and stroked her, and all at once she cried out and shuddered in his arms.
“Jake,” Cat said, and she broke free of the earth, of the emptiness that had been her life.
Jake said her name. Entered her. Sank deep, deep into her silken heat.
She felt one quick, sharp pain.
After that there was only ecstasy.
She must have fallen asleep.
It didn’t seem possible, not after what had happened, but the next time she opened her eyes, Jake’s arms were tight around her, her head was on his chest, and the room was filled with a strange white light.
“It’s the snow,” Jake said softly.
She tilted her head and looked up at him.
“The light. It’s because of the snow. It must have started again during the night. It’s still coming down.” His lips curved in a smile. “Good morning.”
She knew she was blushing. It was silly, but she couldn’t help it. “Good morning,” she whispered, and buried her face against his throat.
“Are you okay?”
Her color deepened. Thank goodness he couldn’t see it. “I’m fine.”
“If I hurt you—”
“You didn’t. Really. I wanted—I wanted—”
Jake put his hand under her chin and gently lifted her face until her eyes met his.
“So did I,” he said huskily.
Her lips curved in a smile. He smiled, too, and gave her a tender kiss. After a long moment he cupped her shoulders and eased her down against the pillows.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said softly. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Cat tugged the blankets to her chin as he got to his feet. It was the first time she’d really seen him naked, the first time she’d seen any man naked, and she drank in the sight as he strolled to the connecting bathroom.
How beautiful he was! Broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, long-legged. He had a tight bottom, and she blushed again as she wondered how he’d look from the front. She’d felt him, deep, oh, so deep within her, but she hadn’t actually seen…
“Here we go.”
She blinked. He’d tied a towel around his middle. Too bad, she thought, and again the hateful color spread into her face. But before she could feel too stupid Jake was at the bed, scooping her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you,” he said, and brushed his lips over hers.
“Taking…?” She glanced back at the bed. This time she was sure she turned pink, from the top of her head to her toes. There was a red stain on the white sheets. Mortified, she dug her face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Jake, I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot—”
“Sorry? For giving me such a gift?”
He kissed her hair as he carried her into the bathroom. A stream of water splashed from a gold faucet into an enormous black marble tub. Jake stepped into it, Cat still safe in his arms. He sat back, kept her nestled against him, and she sighed with contentment as the scented water lapped at her breasts.
“Sweetheart, if anyone should be apologizing it’s me. I took something precious from you last night.”
“You took something I wanted to give you,” she said, turning so she could see his face. “Only you,” she whispered, and she shocked herself, shocked him, by reaching for him, taking his already erect penis in her hands and stroking its silk-over-steel length.
“Cat,” Jake said tightly, “honey, it’s too soon…”
“It isn’t,” she said, and he slid into her and made love to her with his body and, heaven help him, with his heart.
How had it happened? How had he fallen in love with his ward?
A couple of hours later, bundled in sweats and heavy socks, mittens and woolen caps, they stood on the terrace and looked at a city turned into a fairyland by snow.
At least Cat was looking at the city.
Jake was looking at her, and trying to find a way out of the nightmare that trapped him.
He was in love with Catarina.
And he had to marry her off to another man.
Otherwise he’d violate the terms of both wills. Her parents’, and his father’s. She’d lose her inheritance. He’d never learn the names of his brothers.
“Oh, look,” she said, with a little squeal of delight. “Jake? That man is skiing. Skiing—on Fifth Avenue
!” She turned to him, eyes bright with excitement. “Isn’t this wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” he said.
What was wonderful was his Cat. How could he give her up? She was all a man could hope for, and more.
Everything was so new for her today. She’d never seen snow until the other night, and now New York had obliged with an honest-to-goodness blizzard that had brought the whole city to a standstill.
She’d never been with a man before, either, and he’d obliged by taking her innocence.
He’d had no right to it but, damn it, he had no regrets. Making love with her had filled him with happiness. She was amazing. She’d held nothing back; she’d given him everything. Her joy at being in his arms. Her passion. Her sweetness.
He’d imagined what it would be like to make love with Cat but nothing he’d fantasized compared with the reality of making her his.
Except she wasn’t his. She couldn’t be.
“Jake, do you see that? That woman with the big black dog? Oh, he’s adorable! He’s trying to bury his muzzle in the snow.”
“I see it,” he said gruffly, tightening his arm around her, but in truth what he saw was what had to happen next. The men he’d have to introduce to Catarina. The search he’d have to organize so that he found her the proper husband.
Pain, sharp as a surgical blade, sliced through his heart.
No. He couldn’t do it. How could he let her give herself to another man to meet the terms of two wills that should never have been written? How could he see her with that man and know that she’d never be his again?
“Jake?” She swung toward him, eyes wide and shining. “Could we go to the park and make a snowman?”
No. Hell, no. The only place he wanted to go was back to bed, to stay there forever, make the real world go away until it was just Cat and him.
“I know it’s still snowing, but please could we?”
He swallowed and managed a smile. “Sure we could, honey,” he said, but first he took her back to bed and made love to her again.
She was enthusiastic, insatiable and inexhaustible—in bed and out.
All of it was catching.
They didn’t build a snowman; they built a snow family. They’d raided the fridge before they went downstairs, so they made a guy with a carrot for his nose, a lady with half a cucumber for hers, a little round blob of a snow baby with a pair of radish eyes and another blob, smaller and squatter, that Cat solemnly christened Lassie.
Maybe you couldn’t change the future, but on a magical day like this you could keep reality at bay.
“Lassie?” Jake grinned as she put the finishing touch to the mounded snow. “What could you possibly know about that collie? She hasn’t made a movie in years.”
“I know that ‘she’ was a ‘he,”’ Cat answer
ed primly. “And I saw a whole bunch of Lassie movies. The school ran them on Friday nights.”
“Along with lots of other smash hits, I’ll bet.”
“You’re just jealous because I got to watch old movies.”
Jake’s smile tilted. “I’m just jealous because you got to watch them without me.”
Cat stood up and moved closer. “You know what I always wanted to do?” she asked. A smile—a teasing, sexy smile—curved her mouth. She rose on her toes so her lips were almost at his ear. “I always wanted to watch movies in bed.”
His body reacted with such speed he was glad there was nobody near enough to notice. He reached out, slid his arms around her and pulled her against him.
Her little gasp of surprise told him she noticed, but that was exactly what he’d intended.
“Then this is your lucky day,” he whispered. “I just happen to have a DVD player, as well as a bed.”
“You do?”
Cat batted her lashes. She’d gone from innocent virgin to tempting vixen in a heartbeat, and he was crazy about both of them.
“Yeah. I do.” He bent his head and gave her a lingering kiss. “And, if you’re a very good girl, I’ll show them to you.”
“How about if I’m very bad?” she said, and her cheeks turned such a shade of crimson that he began to laugh.
“Oh,” she whispered, hiding her face against his shoulder, “what would Sister Angelica say?”
“I know what I’d say,” Jake replied.
He bent down, put his mouth to her ear and whispered something. She looked properly shocked. She also looked properly delighted.
Jake grinned, plucked her off her feet, ignored her shrieks as he tossed her over his shoulder, and trotted out of the park, across a still-unplowed Fifth Avenue
, past the bemused doorman and up to his apartment, where her supposed outrage ended.
“Cat,” he whispered, “my sweet kitten.”
Hours later, as he lay with her sleeping in his arms, Jake wondered how in God’s name he was ever going to give her up.
And then he thought, with sudden clarity, I don’t have to give her up.
What he had to give up was his right to the names of his brothers.
Suddenly that didn’t seem half as important as what he’d already found, right here in his arms.
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