Silk on the Skin: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Linda Cajio

  Her laughter suddenly redoubled.

  Dallas narrowed his eyes at her. He’d get her back for this, he vowed. Somehow.

  Half an hour later, Cass was still laughing.

  She had tried her best to smother it. She really had, she thought, as she kept her gaze from straying to Dallas’s angrily set jaw. The inlet currents were sluggish about carrying away sea-life refuse, and his now-dried clothes had taken on the aroma of a fish too long out of the water. His face was becoming redder, although Cass wasn’t sure if it was the heat or his anger. Jaws had certainly demolished Dallas’s sophisticated executive image.

  He’d kill her if she giggled, she thought. Instantly the vision of him flopping around with a crab hanging off his foot popped into her head again.

  “Oh, Lord,” she muttered under her breath while ruthlessly suppressing renewed amusement.

  She glanced toward the stern, and immediately spotted Dallas’s “catch” scrabbling around in the wooden bushel basket. A burst of giggles escaped her.

  “That’s it!” Dallas exclaimed, standing up.

  He yanked his knit shirt off, revealing in the process a firmly muscled chest. She nearly gasped as her gaze helplessly traversed the virile picture he made. A flow of sensual lethargy radiated through her thighs.

  His hands went to his belt buckle, and he began to undo it.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Cass exclaimed, common sense returning at his provocative gesture.

  His hands stopped their task, thankfully. “It’s too damned hot, and these clothes stink!”

  “But you can’t—” she yelped.

  “I will,” he said flatly. “It’s bad enough that you’re going to be laughing at me all day, but I will be damned before I’ll swelter to death too.”

  “Dallas, be serious! You can’t sit around in your underwear, for goodness’ sake!”

  “I don’t intend to. I’m just going to cut the jeans into shorts with the knife from the tackle box. I’d try to do it without taking my pants off, but if I cut myself, you’d probably throw me in for bait to catch Jaws II.”

  Cass smiled at him.

  “If your modesty is offended, then turn around,” he suggested in an exasperated voice as he went to work on the buckle again. “But these damn pants are coming off!”

  She whipped her head in the opposite direction. But the sound of a zipper being opened, followed by cloth being skinned down bare flesh, brought a wealth of images to her mind … and a little mischief as well.

  She began to sing The Stripper. “Dada-da-da. Dida-da-da. Dada-da-da, dida-a-a. Dida. Bombom. Dida. Bombom—”

  “Very funny, Cass.”

  Laughing helplessly, she covered her face with her hands. “It was too good to pass up.”

  And it had been. She admitted she was enjoying herself hugely. Already the scare with the burglar seemed distant … even unreal. It was now as if she’d viewed the incident on television, rather than its actually having happened to her. Thank goodness for Dallas Carter, she thought, smiling to herself. He’d made her laugh on a day she hadn’t expected to.

  He hadn’t mentioned M & L or the proxy once, and she was very grateful to him for that kindness. She acknowledged that he did have some honor. If the circumstances had been different, Dallas might have been a friend. A more intimate term came to mind, and she pushed it away.

  A few minutes later, he said, “Okay, you can turn around.”

  Grinning, she turned. Her amusement faded, though, at the sight of him in his shorts. Every muscle of his body was well defined without looking the least brawny. He could easily have been a “Hunk of the Month.” Where in the world, she wondered, did they grow company presidents like him? All this time, and she’d had no idea he had such great legs. They were muscular and lightly covered with hair. Not too much, but just enough, she admitted. Perfect. All of him was.…

  “I guess I should check the traps,” he said.

  The cloud she was floating on burst at his words, and she crashed firmly back to earth. She clinically eyed his expanse of lightly tanned skin. Obviously he’d been out in the sun, but not too recently.

  “You’re going to burn if you don’t put the shirt back on,” she said.

  He glanced down at his arms, the darkest part of him. “I’ve got a layer of tan. Once I have that, I never burn.”

  She reached over and picked up her beach bag. Rummaging around in it, she finally pulled out a tube of tanning lotion and tossed it to him.

  “This is better than nothing,” she said. “Put it on.”

  Picking it up, he shrugged dismissively. “If it will make you happy. But I never burn.”

  She had a feeling that at the end of the day she’d be taking in some crabs … and one very huge, very red lobster.

  Six

  “Looks good,” Dallas pronounced hours later while glancing down at his arms, which had darkened even more from the sun. “Nice and tan. Maybe just a touch of windburn, but nothing a little ointment can’t handle.”

  He pulled his shirt back on as Cass made a face at him.

  “I have to admit, though,” he added as Cass guided the boat through the inlet’s late-afternoon tide, “I did like your fussing over me.”

  “I didn’t fuss. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get burned, that’s all.”

  “You fussed.” He looked down at the bushel basket in the bottom of the boat. The crab he’d “caught” had now been joined by a half-dozen more. A good catch, and a good day. Somehow, too, he had managed to keep his attraction to Cass under control during the afternoon. Barely under control, he admitted. The tension was still simmering just beneath the surface. It hadn’t been easy, but Cass’s needs had been more important.

  Companionship, he decided, did have its advantages. He’d never seen her so relaxed around him. But this kind of day had better be a rare one between them. He couldn’t imagine being “just friends” with her. He wanted her too badly for that. The realization was startling, and he instantly suppressed it.

  “So when do we get to eat Jaws?”

  “You were just along for the ride,” Cass said, wariness creeping back into her eyes.

  “And now I’m along for dinner.”

  “I’ll give him to you, and you can take him home—”

  “Oh, no,” Dallas said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It took two of us to catch him, so the two of us will eat him. Together. Besides, I’m staying at the Trident Arms, and the hotel doesn’t allow its guests to cook. I’m staying for dinner.”

  “Dallas—”

  He reached across the small vessel and took her free hand in his. She immediately stiffened. “It’s all right, Cass. And admit it, you’d feel better if you didn’t go home alone tonight.”

  “I do admit it.” She was silent for a moment. “But not with you.”

  “I will just have dinner with you, and we can talk for a little while afterward. No business. We’ll just get to know each other a little better. And whenever you want me to leave, then I’ll leave.” He gazed into her green-green eyes. “I am a gentleman, Cass.”

  Although her body relaxed only slightly, she did smile. “Now, gentlemanly behavior from you I have got to see.”

  Dallas leaned back in the seat and chuckled. “I may just make you eat your words. After all, I proved you wrong about the sunburn, didn’t I?”

  Cass was already unloading the basket at her home, when Dallas parked his car next to hers under the carport and got out.

  “This is beautiful, Cass,” he commented, gazing out at the waves lapping at the sunset beach.

  “I like it,” she said, while pulling out her beach bag.

  He came around the side of her vehicle. “Here. Let me help you get the rest out.”

  He moved closer to her as he reached into the back for the cooler. Cass immediately backed away.

  Surprised, he turned toward her. “Cass! I promised to be a gentleman, and I meant it.”

  “It isn’t that.�
�� Giggling, she shook her head. “Dallas, I hate to be the one to break the bad news to you but … you stink.”

  “I—!” He realized she meant it literally. The residue from his dip in the water had long since permeated his senses. Now that he’d been reminded of it, though, he could notice the stench rising from his clothes.

  “Wonderful,” he muttered.

  Dramatically pinching her nostrils together with a forefinger and thumb, she said, “A skunk cabbage by any other name …”

  Without a word he piled the cooler and beach bag on top of the bushel basket, then hauled the precarious bundle off the concrete and stalked toward the stairs. The crabs, startled by the sudden shift of their temporary home, scrabbled wildly against the wooden side. He held the basket away from him, not wanting to risk a second “love pinch” from Jaws or his companions. The Lord only knew what they might latch onto this time.

  Cass hurriedly caught up to him, although she was careful not to get too close. “I was only teasing, Dallas. The smell really isn’t that bad. Besides, I’ve been fishing for years out here, so I’m used to it.”

  “Sure,” he said, watching her hug the opposite banister as they climbed the stairs.

  “You can use my shower, if you’d like,” she volunteered.

  He stopped halfway up the flight of wide steps and turned to her. She stopped and looked quizzically at him. A fair measure of trust had gone into that offer, he acknowledged, even if she wasn’t aware of it.

  Pleased, he said, “Thanks. Unfortunately, it won’t help the clothes.”

  “I’ll throw them in the washer.…”

  Her voice trailed away, and she stared dumbstruck at him. Grinning back, he admitted he’d wondered when she’d realize she’d have a naked man on her hands until the clothes were dry. It was quite an ego-booster to know she was worried about that fact. Obviously she was no more inclined to friendship than he was.

  “This gentleman would greatly appreciate being clean,” he said. “Clothes and all.”

  She swallowed visibly, then started up the stairs again. “It’s only sensible, isn’t it?”

  He followed behind her. “Yes. It’s plain old common sense to allow me the use of your shower.”

  “I have a long terry robe you could probably fit into while your clothes are drying,” she offered, without looking at him.

  “Good. I’d hate to have to eat dinner in the bathroom, for lack of clothes.” A white, clearly unweathered board drew his attention, and he asked, “New step?”

  “Mmm.” Her gaze intent on the top of the stairs, she said, “All a part of owning a home.”

  A few minutes later they were inside, and he was setting the basket and other things on the kitchen table. He wasn’t surprised to discover Cass’s home was neatly and expensively furnished. Impressionist prints shared wall space with soaring bird figurines. The sleek lines of Danish furniture contributed to the near-Spartan look. And yet the comfortable atmosphere of “home” permeated the house. He shrugged. Maybe it was the multicolored afghan thrown atop a swayback rocker, or the proud display of china in the glass-fronted cabinet. If nothing else, her home would have told him she was no bubble-headed female.

  His skin itched, and he dismissed his musings. He admitted that if she hadn’t offered the use of her shower, he would have commandeered it.

  “Can you handle them alone?” he asked, tapping the wooden cover of the basket.

  From the other side of the table, she raised an eyebrow and said, “Go take your shower, Dallas.”

  He made a face. “Right. I’ll leave the clothes just outside the door for you.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” she said dryly, and moved to the kitchen work area. She pulled out a large speckled enamel pot from an oak-and-glass cabinet. Taking it to the sink, she began filling it with water.

  Dallas frowned, as he sensed her coolness was an attempt to distance herself from him. He’d let her get away with it for a little while. At least until he was human again.

  Once inside Cass’s blue-and-white-tiled bathroom, he quickly stripped away his offending clothes and, cracking open the door, dumped them outside.

  “Okay!” he called out, then shut the door.

  Going over to the tub, he turned on the faucets full blast and twisted the center knob to “shower.” Beautiful plumes of steam rose up, curtaining the cascade of water. He smiled as he adjusted the boiling temperature to a barely tolerable level. He would have killed for this, he thought.

  He stepped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed.

  In the tiny laundry room, Cass shoved Dallas’s clothes into the washer, dumped in detergent, and set the timer. With a sense of resignation she watched the machine chug to life. She wished she had been thinking straight and had suggested he go to his hotel to clean up and come back for dinner. It was downright ridiculous to think of these things after the fact.

  Okay, she thought, knowing the damage was done. The sexy man was now naked in her bathroom. Big deal.

  She could handle this. After all, she was a mature woman who had simply suggested a sensible solution to his predicament. He was filthy, and she had the soap and water. That was all there was to it.

  Images of the way his muscles had rippled under smooth male flesh ran through her mind. She forced them out. She remembered how her gaze had continually focused on the crisp mat of hair covering his chest, while they had been out on the boat.

  A flush rising to her cheeks, she turned and strode briskly into the kitchen.

  For goodness’ sake, she thought in exasperation, she had been alone with him all afternoon, so why should she be so self-conscious now? Because, she silently answered, the boat had been too small and very much out in the open … and therefore safe.

  But now he was in her bathroom. His clothes were in her washer, and no passers-by would interrupt. If she were to lose her control over her attraction …

  “Remember what he’s really here for,” she whispered, as if that would tighten the slipping reins. She glanced into the pot of cooking crabs and sighed. They were nice and red—and edible.

  Hell, she thought. Dinnertime.

  “Cass!”

  Startled, she jumped back from the stove, then realized it was Dallas calling her. Hoping she hadn’t forgotten to put towels in the bathroom, she turned off the flame under the pot and walked slowly out of the kitchen, through the living room, and to the closed bathroom door.

  “Cass!”

  “Yes?” she replied through the stout barrier.

  “Get in here.”

  She blinked, then narrowed her eyes at the solid wood.

  “Forget it, Dallas!”

  “Cass, please!”

  The desperate note in his voice penetrated her growing fury. She couldn’t help but admit that he sounded as if he were in trouble. Gingerly she opened the door. Steam wafted out. Opening the door a little wider, she cautiously peeked inside.

  The small room was hazy with moisture, although it was rapidly clearing as drafts of cooler air entered from the hallway. The shower curtain was flung back, and Dallas stood in the tub. One hand was braced against the tile wall, and the other held a towel against the front of his pelvis.

  He was an angry red. All over.

  “Omigod!” Cass exclaimed, hurrying to him. She dimly noted the towel wasn’t wrapped around him, and she couldn’t blame him. The sunburn looked so terrible, she knew it must be agony just to stand upright, let alone have a scratchy towel rubbing against his waist and thighs.

  She stretched out her hand to see how hot his skin was.

  “Don’t touch me!” he gasped, his chest heaving for air.

  “I thought you never burned,” she said, staring at his damp, flaming shoulders.

  “Famous last words.”

  “It blossomed in the shower, didn’t it,” she stated, rather than asked.

  He nodded. Goose bumps were already prickling along his flesh. It was hard to believe he’d had a healthy tan li
ttle more than fifteen minutes ago.

  “You’ve got heat rash, too,” she said. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek in sympathy, then dropped it. “You poor thing.”

  “I hate pity,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “Would you like me to yell at you instead?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” She surveyed him for a moment. “The first thing we’ve got to do is get you into bed. Then I’ll call the doctor. Let’s just hope you don’t have sun poisoning.”

  “Your bed?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she muttered. Her house only had two bedrooms, and she had converted the second into a home office.

  “I wish I could appreciate that fact,” he commented.

  “If you could, I wouldn’t have made the offer.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  She smiled. “You are not in a position to argue the point.”

  “True.” Wry amusement momentarily surfaced through the pain glazing his tawny eyes.

  “It might be best if you tried to make it to the bedroom on your own. That way I wouldn’t have to touch you. I’ll just hover mother-henlike in case of imminent collapse.”

  He nodded, and winced as he slowly stepped out of the tub. Cass found her gaze straying over his lean form. She immediately ordered it to stay on the side of his beet-red face. She could barely discern the lighter strips of skin where his sunglasses had been. Lordy, she thought, remembering her earlier notion of bringing home a lobster. She was becoming prophetic in her old age.

  Somehow Dallas made it to the bed. She was in awe of the effort it must have cost him to get there under his own steam. She also admired his tautly muscled backside, of which she’d had several glimpses. The man had a great tush, she decided, and instantly chastised herself for even noticing.

  He hissed in pain and shivered as his back and shoulders made contact with the cool percale sheet. Settling the towel in a modest position, he said, “You did warn me.”

  “It happens,” she said, picking up the telephone receiver. She dialed her physician’s number. “It’s a tradition to get sunburned at the shore. Just be grateful the backs of your legs didn’t get burned too.”