by Renee Roszel
Groaning, she turned on her side, giving up, and stared toward the window, knowing that she wasn’t going to get any sleep that night. She was too angry, disgusted with the envy she had discovered in herself. All that evening, during the party, she had grown more and more depressed, her anger focused on Cotter and his attentiveness toward Anona.
How could Raine Webber, a woman who had lived her whole life by clearheaded logic, suddenly become so irrational and flighty? Of all the men in the world to find herself in love with. Cotter Hunt was an egotistical playboy. It was the most absurd choice she could imagine. But the vision of Cotter’s dark, expressive eyes lingered with her. And the memory of his provocative touch and stirring kisses surrounded her.
Distressed, she threw the covers aside and sat up, rubbing her eyes with trembling fingers. This self-absorbed attitude was becoming impossible, an impediment to her work. She simply must not torture herself with things that could never be. Cotter Hunt was a wealthy bachelor with a glamorous worldly girlfriend. It hurt to realize it, but she felt that knowing the truth would help her to redirect her energies. With a determined swing of her hand, she groped toward the bedside table for her glasses and the lamp switch. Maybe a good book…
Her hand grazed her glasses, knocking them off the table. By the clattering sound, she realized that they had tumbled toward the window. “Rats,” she mumbled, dropping off the bed to her hands and knees, feeling around for them. “Must everyone and everything conspire against me tonight?”
A rattle outside her window distracted her from the search, and she listened apprehensively. The rattle came again, and she frowned, unable to make out what the sound was. It might have been a branch scraping the glass. But she was sure that there was no wind. Very cautiously, she moved her fingers, feeling along the floor for her glasses. She was more than a little handicapped without them. The cool, familiar feel of her frames nudged her little finger, and she quickly clasped the glasses up and put them on, blinking up toward the window. The curtains were drawn open, but all she could see was misty moonlight. Still on her knees, she crawled slowly toward the window, listening. The scratching was getting louder—but not loud enough to drown out the pounding of her heart as it hammered against her ribs.
When she was directly below the window, she reached up and curled her fingers over the marble sill. Very slowly, she raised up on her knees, lifting her head, eyes unblinking and wide, to peer outside. At first, she saw nothing. But after a few seconds, she could detect a little movement in the trellis beside the window. Another scratching, and she saw a dark gloved hand reach up and grasp the trellis. Someone was climbing up the outside of the house! Her throat closed, and she couldn’t move. To her horror, another hand appeared directly in front of her face. She strangled a scream that welled up in her throat as the hand grabbed the window ledge. Good Lord! Someone was trying to get in her window!
Her hands grew slick and gave up their hold on the sill as her fear-weakened knees gave way, and she sank to the floor. She wanted to shriek, but no sound would come. She found herself crawling awkwardly away, keeping low, forcing herself to stay alert as she heard a new sound. The sound of chalk on a blackboard—or something sharp, cutting glass?
With all the courage she could muster, she scurried to the bathroom door, unlocking it. Fearfully, she gradually, soundlessly turned the knob, opening the door just enough to slither through. Then, and only then, did she rise to her feet and fly through Cotter’s door, throwing herself down beside his bed. “Cotter!” she pleaded in a tight whisper. “Cotter, wake up!” She shook his shoulder. “Hurry! Please.”
“What—” He ran a hand through his tousled hair, opening one eye. “I must be slipping.” He squinted a sleepy smile. Lifting a hand to her pajama lapel, he added with an unhurried yawn, “I’ve never dreamed about a woman wearing those before.”
She brushed his hand away and whispered urgently, “Listen to me, Cotter. There’s someone trying to—”
A buzzer went off on a complicated-looking console beside his bed and a light began to flash with the words: WINDOW VIOLATED: 13-2. At the same time, her room became flooded with light.
“Damn!” Wide awake now, Cotter threw his covers back and jumped out of his bed. Raine could only stare at the naked man as he grabbed up a robe, throwing it carelessly on as he bounded across his room toward her lighted one. The buzzer beeped in unison with the flashing words, but Raine could only gape at the empty door through which his muscular frame had disappeared. She heard nothing, and her heart rose in her throat. “Cotter?” she called. “Cotter? Are you—”
“I’m fine. Just a minute.” In four quick strides he was back beside the bed, flicking off the alarm. And as quickly, he was at the nightstand, answering the ringing phone. “Yes. Hunt residence. No mistake. An attempted break-in. I saw only one man, dressed in black—or in dark clothes. No. Not the face. We’re okay. Just a little cut glass. He’s probably over the wall by now, considering how fast he was running. I know you’ll contact me if you find anything suspicious.”
When he hung up, the room was very still. Raine could hear him exhale heavily as he sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. “Police?” she asked in a shaky whisper.
He nodded, but seemed preoccupied as he sat forward, his elbows on his knees, apparently forgetting she was even there. Here she had not been able to sleep for thinking of him, and now, he was sitting beside her. She was in his bed, but he was hardly aware that she was even there! She sighed, and began to slide her legs over the side of the bed. “Well, since everything’s okay, I’ll go…”
He started, turning around. “Oh.” His tense expression softened. “Yes, everything’s all right. We’ve had break-in attempts before. My alarm feeds directly into the police station. They’ll send a car to patrol outside the grounds. So don’t worry. You all right?”
She swallowed and nodded. “I think so. You?”
He shrugged a shoulder and his robe fell open to the waist. “Yes. Our would-be burglar is probably the one most damaged. The automatic lighting system probably scared a good bit of life out of him.”
“Pretty sophisticated system.” Trying to be conversational was almost more than she could muster.
He smiled faintly. “Apparently it would be a waste of money for someone like you. You’re a light sleeper.”
She averted his gaze. She had no intention of discussing her insomnia with him, so she merely nodded, agreeing quietly. “I guess. Well, I’d better go. It’s not exactly appropriate for me to be here.” Feeling a deep blush rush up her neck, she hurriedly moved toward the opposite edge of the bed.
“Before you go…” He turned just enough to take her wrist, halting her. “I suppose I should thank you for your single-minded attentions to Carl tonight. This is the first time since the accident he’s stayed out of his room for a whole evening. No doubt that was due to you.”
Raine blinked at the trace of rancor in his voice. She straightened. “There’s no need to thank me. It was my pleasure.”
She felt his fingers trace lightly over her own. He had released her wrist, and she knew that she was free to leave, but somehow, his touch held her securely. Wanting to prolong the contact, she improvised. “Besides, I didn’t think you noticed, you were so—so totally occupied.” She kept her eyes level with his, watching him warily.
“I noticed,” he returned in a deep, low tone. “I imagine you and Carl have a lot in common—I mean, you’re both educated, you both like football.” One long finger traced back and forth over the sensitive skin of her palm, sending shivers of heightened feeling through her. After a brief pause, he asked softly, “I’m curious, professor. Do you get more pleasure from his intelligent conversation, or is it the fact that he’s sick that attracts you?”
Her brows shot up at his suggestion. She had no intention of answering such a ridiculous question and began to get up, but a steely hand caught her wrist, pulling her back down. “Don’t run away, professor. Fight that timidity o
f yours, and stay.” His eyes were calculating, his features hard.
The blood rushed to her face, bringing scalding tears to her eyes. Angry beyond any experience she could remember, she tried to pull her hand away, biting out through clenched teeth, “I’ll show you timidity!”
But before she could slap him, he caught her out-flung hand, murmuring quietly, “At least a man like me can arouse your passionate temper.”
“That would be your idea of an accomplishment!” she challenged.
“You mean my uneducated idea of an accomplishment, don’t you?” he corrected.
“Oh, come off it. I’m tired of it!” she returned hotly. “Your fixation about diplomas, your complete involvement with your so-called inadequacy, is sicker than anything about Carl!”
He cocked a brow. “Oh?” His lips quirked cynically. “That’s easy to say when you’ve had an education given to you on a silver platter. When nobody’s called you—”
“Names?” she finished for him in a shrill whisper. “I thought we’ve been through that, Cotter. So you didn’t go to college. It’s not a tragedy.” She threw out an expansive arm. “Look what you’ve got. More than my folks—both college teachers—could ever have!” She took a deep breath and her eyes glittered. “Just what is it that you’re lamenting? You should be proud of what you have, and how you got it. Who wouldn’t be proud of the status you’ve achieved? I’ll bet you my Ph.D. there’s something else you’re obsessed with, Cotter.”
He put a finger to her lips, halting her heated speech. “Okay, okay,” he said softly. “We don’t need everybody coming in here taking sides in this debate.” He tilted his head slightly to one side, a crooked smile softening his features. “You know, I think you’re winning in the fight against timidity.” There was a twinkle in his dark eyes.
Raine flushed but couldn’t restrain a shy smile. His sudden easy humor was too infectious to ignore.
He grinned at her, tipping her chin up so that she was forced to meet his gaze. A low laugh rumbled deep in his throat. “Professor, if anybody had told me a woman could spend twenty minutes in my bed, and all we’d do is compare childhood wounds, I’d have thought they were nuts.”
Her smile faded, and she lifted her chin away from his warm touch. She would be the one woman he could utterly resist—even in his bed.
“Tell me, do you actually sleep in those?” He cocked an appraising eyebrow.
Startled by his abrupt change of subject, she lifted her shoulders defensively, sidestepping his question with her own. “They’re pajamas. What’s so strange?”
He chuckled softly. “I wasn’t referring to the pajamas.” She felt fingers curling around her glasses frames. “I meant these. You don’t sleep in them, do you?”
“Of course not, I—”
“Oh, yes, you grabbed them when you heard the prowler. Very resourceful. Quick thinking, too.”
That sounded like as good a reason she could have thought up, so she let it pass.
“May I see them?”
“Why?” Her eyes grew wide with surprise. “They’re just glasses.”
“I guess it’s not really the glasses I want to see. It’s you, without them.” As he spoke, he took them off, laying them on the bedside table. “There.” He smoothed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes, murmuring, “Not a trace of schoolteacher left.” He chuckled. “I feel as if I’m in a dream, finally allowed to uncover the beauty behind the glasses.”
Blinking, she squinted a frown in his direction. She couldn’t see his face clearly, and she wasn’t sure she’d understood his quiet remark. Shifting restlessly, she held out a hand. “Cotter, give me my glasses. I can’t find my way to my bed without them.”
“Exactly.” His fingers closed around her outstretched hand. “I don’t want you to go.”
“What?” she breathed the word almost fearfully.
“No, you’re supposed to ask me why,” he corrected.
She swallowed, easing the new dryness in her throat. “Why, then?”
Even as blurry as he was, she could see his shrug. “Because, I care for you. Because I’ve got you smiling at me again.” He moved closer. “Because there’s something about you, so that when you’re away from me I feel as if I’ve lost something important.” His moonlit face was now so close that he came clearly into focus. He was not smiling. “That’s why.”
“Be serious, Cotter,” she pleaded in a soft whisper.
“But, Raine,” Drawing her hand to his chest, placing it palm down in the dark mat of hair, he assured her, “I am serious.”
She gasped at the feel of his taut muscles. He covered her hand, imprisoning it there. His chest rose and fell under her captured fingers as his breathing became rougher. “And those crazy pajamas, Raine. So much about you brings out some, I don’t know, sort of protective instinct in me—but it’s sensual and protective all at once.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I want to show you things. Teach you things.” His whisper grew husky. “I want to watch you come alive. I want us to share that, together.” He slid a leg across her knees, easing her down on the bed. He lifted her other hand, kissing first the palm and then the sensitive skin on the inside of the wrist. “Stay, Raine.” He breathed the plea against her flesh. “Let me.”
She groaned, closing her eyes. She had heard his soft, gentle urgings, but answered more to his sensual coaxing. Her fingers tangled themselves possessively in the thick hair of his chest, and she sighed, loving the coarse feel of it. “Oh, Cotter…” she began.
His dark eyes sparkled with a masculine determination that held her rapt. With lips now feathering her cheek, he continued, “I want you to feel more than compassion for me. There’s so much more.” His hip pressed suggestively against hers, and a persuasive hand went to the nape of her neck. Long, eager fingers stroked her short hair as she was guided beneath the cool sheets. A sigh of inescapable surrender was the only sound that could be heard in the room as his mouth closed possessively over hers. She loved him. And she could no longer deny her feelings for this man. She inhaled deeply, stimulated by his scent. His lips, too, were weaving their spell as he nuzzled and teased the soft flesh of her mouth.
His lips lifted from hers to move with deliberate slowness along her cheek to her neck. “You’re a soft woman, Raine,” he breathed. “I knew you would be.” Searching fingers grazed her throat and moved slowly, tantalizingly, down to the first button of her pajama shirt. She inhaled sharply when the button slipped open. “It’s okay,” he murmured as his warm hand slid beneath the fabric to stroke her breasts. His moan mingled with hers, and his face moved down to replace the searching hand, to kiss her where he had awakened her flesh with his touch.
The shirt slipped away into the darkness, and Raine hugged his glistening head to her chest. Her head lolling back, she reveled in the feel of him; his hard, matted chest against her stomach, his square jaw exquisitely defined and rough against her body. She kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and back as he caressed and explored her soft, secret places. She tried to find the words to express her emotion, but her thoughts were blocked with the wonder of his touch and the dark sensuousness of his eyes.
Raine realized with a quiver of anticipation that he had eased the rest of her clothing away from her. Dismissing all thoughts, she pressed against him, loving the feel of his powerful body against hers. She discovered the potency of his desire as it teased the inner side of her thigh. And she marveled at the depth of her own feeling, finding herself responsive to his every nuance and every gesture.
Rising above her, Cotter stretched his sinewy shoulders and arms in the moonlight as he lifted his body to meet hers. At his intimate touch, she gasped, closing her eyes to all else but the ecstasy of their joining.
Her head rocked back and forth and she flicked at his lips and met his tongue with her own. Her breathing quickened as their tempo increased catapulting her toward a plane of pure pleasure and explosive light. She knew that she was near the edge, and she reached up
to discover what was to come. Relishing the suspense, she met him equally, with a graceful, rhythmic dance of her own, enhancing their coupling beyond her control until she uttered a tremulous moan. Her body seemed to burst with rapture, surging with fulfillment. She curled her arms around Cotter’s back as he lowered himself to cover her. Tears of happiness filled her eyes and she experienced the gratifying delight of his convulsive climax.
“Raine” he cried, pulling her into him, his arms trembling, tightened about her. “Raine…”
She squeezed her eyes shut, smiling at the loving, almost incredulous tone in his voice. A tear rolled across her temple and he softly kissed the damp trail that marked its passing. Raising his hand, he smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek. “What came over us…?”
She opened her eyes, her lips quivering in a smile. “Don’t you know?” The teasing lilt of her voice seemed unnaturally playful, and she wondered at herself—at what had come over her. Cotter, certainly, had known this passion before, but for her it was new and incomparable. Flushing, her smile grew stronger with the memory. “Cotter?” she murmured, reaching for his shoulder.
His eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. “I’m sorry, Raine,” he said, looking stricken. He rolled away from her, not stopping until he was hunched on the edge of the bed, his hand clasped behind his bowed head.
The mist of pleasure lifted from her brain, and she shivered with the loss of his warmth. Pulling the sheet about her body, she could only stare wide-eyed as he sat there, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “What have I done?” He looked up and stared unseeing out the window. “Professor Raine Webber. Sweet, book-smart, earnest, protected and protective. You’re delicate, Raine, too delicate for a man like me. You teach, and nurture, and console, all in ways that I don’t understand. You’re beyond a man like me, Raine. What do I have to offer you? Compassion? Intrigue? I don’t even know. I toss you on your back, when you’ve come to me for help. What kind of gesture is that?” he growled. “There are rules about what a man like me can do—how far I can go with a woman.” He looked at her for a long moment before he shook his head. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “What I’m saying is, I’m sorry. I’m no Prince Charming. Far from it. And I have no intention of becoming one. It’s beyond me.” He cleared his throat, but Raine cut in before he could finish.