His gaze meandered in clear enjoyment of her hair, which she’d left unbound to riffle in the hot summer breezes—the way he’d always liked her to wear it—then on to her tanned shoulders and crimson midriff blouse, which tied just above her navel. “Now that we’ve ignored each other in the rudest possible way,” he murmured, stepping back to peruse her hip-hugging skirt and bare legs, “I guess we’ll just have to be sociable, after all.” His eyes returned to her face, and she saw that they’d heated to a dark, burnished gold.
Any retort she might have made was lost in an in-flux of heat and an almost painful pang of attraction.
“Cade! Hey, Cade! Over here!” The feminine shout disrupted their mutual trance, and they turned to see Trish waving and gesturing from a short distance away in the bustling crowd.
Without another word, Cade took hold of Brynn’s elbow and steered her between clusters of people to where Trish stood with Lexi and a few of their women neighbors.
“Cade, I wanted to introduce you to some friends of ours. We were telling them about your books, and of course they’re fascinated.” Trish shifted to his free side with a proprietary air as she introduced him to the women.
His deep-voiced reply and potent virile presence drew their attention like flowers to sunlight. He said all that was courteous, charming every one of them, Brynn was sure, before he turned to Lexi. “I’m borrowing Brynn for a while. She’s going to escort me around campus on game day to help put some local color in my writing.”
“Great idea,” Lexi replied.
“If Brynn has too much to do here, I’m free,” Trish stated.
The other women, both younger and older, stout and trim, tall and petite, volunteered their services as tour guides, as well, each trying to outdo the other in comic attempts to explain her superior qualifications for the job and undying dedication to the literary arts.
Focusing on Cade rather than the lighthearted commotion he’d caused, Brynn lifted her brows, piqued that he’d spoken for her as if she were a child who needed permission to go out and play. “I don’t remember you asking me if I’d go.”
“Sure I did. Just like we didn’t find each other.”
She lifted her chin with a silent “Oh.”
Lexi shifted a narrow-eyed glance from one to the other, as if suddenly concerned for their sanity.
Oblivious to their nonsense, Trish insisted, “I’d be happy to show you around, Cade. There are lots of places I can take you.” She gave a beautifully dimpled smile and flashed her seductive blue eyes at him.
But his attention returned to Brynn and lingered there with the same playful yet sensual intensity he’d shown her earlier—as if they were entirely alone. She said to him, “I hope you’re not assuming I agree to what you, um, didn’t ask me?”
“No,” he admitted. “That’s why I’ve formulated a plan to force your hand, if need be.”
“Force my hand?”
“Don’t be stubborn, Brynn.” Lexi gave her shoulder an emphatic nudge. “You’re the perfect person to show Cade around. Who else knows as much about the place? You grew up here in Athens, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’ve spent quite a bit of time here myself, Lexi,” Trish reminded her, sounding annoyed.
Only vaguely aware of the conflict brewing between her business partners, Brynn asked Cade, “How in the world would you force my hand?”
He replied by pointedly shifting his regard to Lexi, who was saying to Trish in a voice loud enough to draw a good deal of attention, “Don’t leave us yet, Trish. Our guests have been enjoying your company so much.” Those standing nearby, especially of the male persuasion, spoke up in hearty support. Lexi, her dark eyes gleaming with deviltry, and her spiky hairdo sprayed red-and-black, adding to the satanic look, continued her grandstanding. “I was hoping we could grill some ribs and wings with your new barbecue sauce, if you’d be willing to make a gallon or two. How ’bout it, Trish?”
The Kappa Alphas broke into a cheer of “Trish… Trish…Trish!”
The surrounding crowd picked up on it, until Trish, the reigning authority on social graces, had little choice. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay.”
When the boisterous applause finally died down, Cade said to Trish, “Did I mention I’m devoting an entire chapter in my book to your inn and the Athens area?”
Recognizing a ploy when she heard one, Brynn rolled her eyes, but Trish brightened immediately, calling the idea “inspired.” Lexi chimed in with vows to help in any way she could, and soon their voices unified in urging Brynn to spend as much time as Cade needed to get his “local color” just right.
Brynn pursed her lips and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, secretly thrilled that he’d forced her hand. Though, if truth be told, nothing less than a crisis would have stopped her from going with him.
Over the course of the night, she’d turned an important corner. Although she couldn’t recall the exact details of her dream, she remembered the urgent, underlying message: that her time with Cade was limited. He would soon be gone, or snatched up by another woman, if Brynn didn’t take action.
The time had come to do so. Even if he was an unscrupulous heartbreaker—which had yet to be proved without a doubt—he was definitely a good candidate for a sexual romp. Tonight. The prospect captivated her. Titillated her. She would expect nothing more from him than a good time.
With a small, droll smile, she capitulated. “If duty calls, one must answer.”
“Yes, indeed, one must.” His smile flashed brilliantly in his dark, rugged face.
And its effect on her left her with no doubt that she’d made the right decision.
8
WEAVING HIS LARGE, STRONG, tanned fingers through her fairer, slimmer ones, Cade led her across the lawn toward the street. Caught up in the pleasure of their palm-to-palm contact, Brynn barely noticed the people they passed as they crossed between slow-moving traffic to a sidewalk shaded by ancient oak trees. Merging into the flow of pedestrians, she and Cade trekked along with a jovial crowd of football fans until they came to a busy intersection.
Before she knew what he meant to do, Cade hooked an arm around her waist and swept her onto a bus that had whined to a wheezing stop beside them.
“What are we doing?” she asked, climbing the steps as the doors of the bus shut behind her with a blast of hot, street-scented air. She’d expected to walk through campus to downtown Athens. This bus was headed in a different direction.
“Making our getaway.”
“From whom?”
“Everyone, I hope.” He shot a glance out the window at the cheery mob on the sidewalk and beyond, as if he really was giving someone the slip. Looking satisfied, he paid the driver, then ushered Brynn through the crowded bus as it jerked into motion. The narrow aisle offered standing room only. Every passenger on board was dressed in red and black, it seemed, and all were talking or laughing loudly.
Cade spoke into her ear. “I want you to myself.”
The words warmed her, thrilled her, but she asked breezily, “Sure you can handle it, Hercules?”
That surprised him into a laugh. She and John had teased him with that nickname in college because of his prowess in lifting weights, his resultant physique and the thick, wavy hair he’d worn longer than most criminal justice boys wore theirs. “I’m up for giving it a good hard try.”
Aware of the double entendre in his husky reply, she laughed breathlessly. She hadn’t flirted this way in years. Hadn’t felt this way in years—light-headed, sexy and intoxicated by his nearness.
While the driver maneuvered the bus through stop-and-go traffic, Cade anchored one hand to the overhead rail and held her firmly against him. Swaying with every start, stop, bump and curve, she felt the vibrant rhythm of his heart against her breast through the thin cotton of their shirts. Inhaled the exotic woodsy scent of his skin and hair. Sensed the quickening of his blood and the hardening of his muscles as her hip lodged against his upper thigh.
“Our st
op,” he said, with a hot breath that sent tingles down her neck and shoulder.
Disoriented and way too warm, she gladly accepted his arm around her as the bus screeched to a halt and she descended the steps. They disembarked at Five Points, the popular intersection of Lumpkin Street and Milledge Avenue. “It’s only right that we start our tour here,” Cade said.
Brynn smiled in appreciation. Their first date had been to the Sons of Italy Restaurant, whose outside deck was still teeming with students, probably from nearby fraternity and sorority houses.
“What’ll it be?” Cade asked with a gesture that encompassed several storefronts. “Pizza and beer at Sons of Italy, or ice cream from Hodgson’s?”
Hodgson’s. She’d been addicted to the old-fashioned drugstore’s heaping scoops of ice cream on hot summer days, while Cade had always gravitated more toward the beer. She was pleased that he remembered, after all these years.
“Since I’m older now, and more adventurous,” she said, “let’s go straight for the beer.”
“Spoken like a true Delta Zeta.”
She swatted his arm in mock punishment for the cheeky remark and then, with matching grins, they set out for Sons of Italy. As they crossed the street at the corner, Cade slanted her a curious glance. “Since when do you drink beer?”
“Since I came of age. When we were together, I was only eighteen. The real drinking age was twenty-one.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot what a wild outlaw you were.”
The casual teasing, though spoken in an affectionate tone, made her uncomfortable. Touched a raw nerve. Reminded her of her secret shame—one of the few secrets she’d managed to keep well and truly buried. But she wouldn’t let the Daytona Beach incident intrude now.
“Maybe not an outlaw,” she replied, turning her attention toward clearing up at least one issue that had bugged her over the years, “but not a prude, either.” Rounding on him with renewed outrage, she insisted, “You have to admit that, Cade Hunter. I was not a prude.”
He smiled, clearly delighted with her, even as she jabbed her finger reproachfully into his chest. Somehow the warmth in his smile healed the hurt she’d once felt at the charge. “I never called you a prude,” he said.
She glared at him in rebuke, and he laughed. “If I did, I must have been sulking.” He slid an arm around her and tugged her closer. “Must have been one of the many times I wanted more than you would give.”
It wasn’t an apology, but she accepted it as such and shied away from digging any deeper into that topic. She wanted no mention of the ultimatum that had torn them apart. She was having too much fun with him to ruin the mood.
Silently they strolled through the quaint commercial neighborhood that had once been their old stomping grounds.
And Cade reveled in the pleasure of her company. In the softness of her smile, the beauty of her long dark hair, her angel eyes, her sinfully delectable body. She’d worn a maddening little skirt that barely reached midthigh, leaving her long tanned legs stark naked. And her blouse looked as if he could open it with one tug to the knot nestled just below her full breasts. The garment left bare the curvaceous little waist and sleek flat abdomen that he’d kissed a hundred times…or more, if he counted his dreams.
How could he have ever called her a prude? She’d always been too damn sexy to deserve that, even when dressed in her old jeans and T-shirts. In fact, if she hadn’t been determined not to “go all the way,” she would have been the easiest girl he’d ever known. At least, with him.
All he’d had to do back then was glance at her breasts, send a message with his eyes, touch his tongue to his lips, and her color would rise, her nipples would harden, her gaze would invite him, beseech him…turn him hot and hard and ready. He’d simply rested his fingertips beneath the zipper of her tight, soft jeans, and she had undulated against his hand, increasingly needy, until he’d unzipped her, slid his fingers inside….
Memories swamped him with startling heat.
And she had come so easily. So passionately. She gave as good as she got, too, with lusty enjoyment. He couldn’t honestly say that she hadn’t satisfied his sexual needs.
But that hadn’t been enough for him. No, he’d wanted more. He’d wanted it all. Intercourse. Lovemaking. Her. The very core and essence of her. And he hadn’t been able to tolerate the thought that he couldn’t have her, that she was saving herself. For what, he didn’t know. Or rather, for whom.
The question had rankled and nagged. And the need for her had obsessed him.
That wouldn’t happen again. Before he left her and returned to Colorado, he would put a satisfying end to all unfinished business here. That was what he needed from her. Closure. Hell, yes. Closure.
And she needed “sexual adventure” from him.
As well as protection from an abductor. Cade had deliberately lost anyone who could have been tailing them, though his professional instincts told him no one had been. And scanning the crowd for potential threats had become second nature to him. No one would hurt her while she was with him. And he would keep her with him—away from the inn—for as long as he reasonably could, while John’s team investigated all the leads they’d gathered.
Meanwhile, he intended to make the most of his time with Brynn. The very most she would allow. Anticipation sang through his veins and injected every muscle of his body with tense readiness. For her. For them. For anything.
They reached the restaurant in no time. Not much had changed in their favorite hangout. Students still slammed balls across the Ping-Pong table at each other. Onlookers still chugged beer, wolfed down pizza and cheered on the players. Music still shook the floorboards.
Cade led the way to the outside patio deck, to a relatively quiet corner. He ordered the beer. She chose the pizza. He then tugged her hand across the table and squeezed it, kneaded it, molded it to his own.
Brynn smiled and closed her eyes, soaking in the magic of the moment. The aroma of pizza and beer on a sultry breeze. The hard-driving beat of the music and the rumble of cars passing by. The inexplicable charge coursing through her from Cade’s masterful grip of her hand. This magical mix could easily whisk her back to the time when they’d been college kids riding high on the first heady wave of romance.
When she opened her eyes, though, she saw not the brooding, passionate boy she used to date, but a rock-solid, self-assured man with a dangerous new glint in his gaze, a readiness to his pose and a determined set to his strong, lean jaw and powerful shoulders. He wanted something from her.
She knew what it was. The knowledge thrilled her. This time, she was game. Wasn’t she?
“We have serious business to take care of,” he reminded her in a low, intent voice that played havoc with her insides.
“You mean, gathering details for your book?”
“Well, that, too. You help me with my work—” he leaned in closer, as did she “—and I’ll help you lick your sleepwalking.”
Just the word lick coming from his mouth turned her on. Conjured up naughty, sensuous thoughts. Naughty, sensuous memories.
“I take it you’ve come up with a plan.” She nearly breathed the last word, remembering how they’d finished this morning’s discussion…and the heated interlude in bed that had led up to it.
A charming series of crescent-shaped grooves deepened along one side of his mouth. “A form of therapy, yes.”
“Therapy. Interesting.” She wanted to trace those curved, elongated dimples with her fingertip. Or maybe with her tongue, on her way to his mouth…. “Does it have anything to do with satisfying the underlying need?”
His hand tightened on hers, and his thumb swept in slow arcs across the tender inside of her wrist. “Yeah.”
The rub of his thumb aroused her, made her skin heat and throb in all her private places. Incredible, that a simple touch from him could do that to her.
Their beer arrived, and she reached for hers without letting go of his hand or breaking intimate eye contact. She sipped her b
eer slowly, needing its frosty bite to calm her. Cool her. Help her regain some sense of control.
Cade ignored his beer altogether. “I believe your sleep disorder stems from traumatic deprivation,” he whispered, “that occurred during your freshman year of college.”
“Deprivation.” She knew, of course, what he meant. So she just had to ask, “What exactly was I deprived of?”
“Sex. With me.”
Brynn didn’t reply. The flare of hunger in his stare left her too breathless.
“The way I see it, we need to go back to the places where we used to make out,” he said. “But this time, we finish the job.”
“The job?”
“Making love. All the way. No holds barred.”
Her pulse accelerated and warmth shimmied through her in waves. “There were quite a few places where we made out,” she said. “Some were…risky.”
“True.”
She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, unsure if she was quite that adventurous. She was, after all, a respected member of the community. A mature, responsible adult. “To revisit every one of those places…” She paused, seriously considering his proposition and all it entailed. “That would take some time.”
“All good therapy does.”
“Don’t you think we can accomplish the same thing in the privacy of our rooms?”
“Well, I wouldn’t exclude the privacy of our rooms,” he answered, lifting one side of his mouth in the hint of a smile. “But to get to the very root of the problem—the unsatisfied need that’s sending you to me every night—I think it’ll take some serious digging into our past. We need to relive it as much as we can, but get it right this time. Take every encounter to its fullest, most natural conclusion. Leave no need unmet.”
An electrified silence pulsed between them. She found it hard to breathe. He was waiting for her to agree to his plan. The time for silly, flirtatious repartee had passed.
Her heartbeat shook her, and warmth rose to her face, but she refused to let herself back out. “Well.” She cleared her throat, and her hand clenched his in something like panic. She knew he could feel the hammering of her pulse. “I suppose I’m willing to give your therapy a try,” she said in an uneven whisper, “if you really think it will help.”
Sex and the Sleepwalker Page 10