by Ginna Gray
"You're so hung up on playing it safe and 'always being prepared,'" he mimicked in a nasty singsong, "that you don't even know what life-is all about."
"That's not true!"
"Oh, yeah? You ever made love? Or even gotten hot and bothered? From the way you kiss I sure as hell don't think so."
Abigail gasped at the jeer. While she sputtered, he continued in a sneering voice, "Hell, there's not enough passion or daring in you to light a fire in any man. It's no wonder you're an old maid."
She hit him then. She, who until now had never struck another human being, who rarely raised her voice, who didn't believe in violence, hauled off with a roundhouse swing and slapped him right on his bruised cheek. So hard her hand stung. So hard his head snapped around. So hard he yelled.
And then she promptly burst into tears.
Chapter Eight
Before David could react, she spun around and fled topside.
He stood there in his garish underwear with his jeans bunched around one ankle and his face blank. Gingerly he rubbed his cheek and grimaced at the sound of her racking sobs. He glanced at Chelsea, and she lifted her lip at him.
"Yeah, well. For once I agree with you, fuzz ball," he muttered.
His shoulders slumped. What the hell was the matter with him? He'd never said anything like that to a woman in his life. Hell, he'd decked other men for less.
But dammit! There was just something about this particular female that got under his skin, made him say and do things he ordinarily wouldn't dream of doing. Just being around her made him antsy, for some reason.
He raked a hand through his hair. Who was he kidding? He knew why he'd done it. Because he was attracted to her. And it scared the hell out of him.
Abigail Stewart was no Maxine; she was no bimbo out for a good time. Back in Crockett, Texas, where he came from, she was what was known as a good woman. A lady. The kind you took home to meet Mama and the family.
Panic fluttered through him at the thought. Hell, he wasn't ready for that. He enjoyed his freedom and liked his life just the way it was.
That kiss at the docks had shaken him, though. The feelings it aroused had been so strong they'd made him forget for a moment all the reasons why he didn't want to get involved with a respectable woman.
So you lashed out at Abigail. Great going, you jerk.
He sighed. Hell, he deserved a good kick in the butt. It was too bad his sister Erin wasn't there. She'd be more than happy to give it to him.
Abigail's piteous weeping floated down into the cabin, long gulping sobs that sounded as though they were torn from her soul.
David winced. Hell, he couldn't take much more of this. Feeling like the lowest form of life, he started for the steps— and promptly tripped on the jeans still tangled around one ankle. Cursing, he yanked off the denim pants, gave them a vicious kick across the cabin and took the steps in two leaps.
She was standing by the stern with her back to him, her head bent. With each racking cry her hunched shoulders shook. The sounds were raw and raspy and painful to hear.
"Abbey..."
She flinched when he touched her shoulder. "Go a-away! Just le-le-leave me alone!"
"I can't. Aw, honey, don't cry."
The sounds became even more anguished, and she tried to scuttle away from him. He followed, but this time when he touched her, she whirled on him and fought like a wildcat, slapping at him with both hands.
"Dammit, Abbey...!"
She was so upset it was impossible to fend her off without hurting her. With an impatient growl, David locked his arms around her and jerked her close, trapping her hands between them.
"C'rnon, honey, calm down."
Frustration added to her woes, and after a moment she gave in and collapsed against him, her raw cries coming out in torrents.
David rocked her from side to side. "Aw, honey, don't. I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean it. Not any of it. Honest. You've probably noticed I'm not the most tactful guy at the best of times, and when I lose my temper I pop off and say things I don't mean. Hell, if you want the truth, I, uh... I acted like a horse's rear.. .well, because I am attracted to you. And I don't want to be," he added with a touch of belligerence.
His words hadn't the slightest effect. Feeling powerless and awkward, David stroked her back above the low neckline of the nightie and blurted out the first thing that came into his mind. "Now I'm not saying that you're not a prissy pain in the butt, 'cause you are. You make me madder, quicker, than any female I've ever known. And with my sisters, that's saying something, believe me. You've been nothing but trouble from the word go, stuck your nose in where it didn't belong and aggravated the living hell out of me. Why I should be attracted to you, I don't know, but, God help me, I am."
"N-no you're not," she gulped. "N-no man ev-ever...is."
"The hell you say! I guess I kn—" A renewed spasm of crying overtook her, cutting off his blustery rejoinder. His arms tightened, and his voice went low with concern. "Hey, now. Honey, c'mon now, don't cry like that. You're gonna make yourself sick." .
He might as well have told the wind to stop blowing. She sobbed against his bare chest as though her heart would break. Frowning, he leaned his cheek against the top of her head and rocked her, real alarm growing in him.
There was more behind this jag than mere hurt feelings, he realized. His taunts had been nasty and uncalled for, Lut they should have sparked anger, not this soul-wrenching despair. In the short time that he and Abbey had been together, he'd learned enough about her character to know that she didn't dissolve over a few crass remarks. This sprang from something much more serious.
Some bastard must've hurt her badly, he thought. He looked out across the calm waters of the cove, his eyes narrowing. Unconsciously his jaws clenched.
Over the years, David had had enough experience dealing with his twin sisters to know that when a woman was that distraught, the only choice was to let her cry it out. Gritting his teeth against her tears and drawing a tight rein on his own impatient nature, he held her close and murmured nonsensical words against the top of her head while his big hands roamed her back and hips in long, soothing strokes.
She worked her arms free, and they came around him. Clutching him, she burrowed closer, burying her face in the thick mat of hair on his chest. She clung with all her might, as though he, and he alone, offered the solace her battered heart so desperately needed.
David's nose stung. His throat tightened. Something shifted and expanded in his chest.
He stood with his legs braced on either side of hers. From their ankles to the top of her head their bodies were pressed together, bare skin to bare skin except for his minuscule briefs and the wisp of a nightie.
Though he told himself he was a heel for noticing at a time like this, he was aware of every sweet inch of her—her breasts flattened against his chest, the softly rounded belly and that feminine mound snuggled against his burgeoning manhood, the enticing flare of womanly hips that just begged for a man's hands. And—oh, God—those long luscious legs, so smooth against his, so strong and perfectly formed.
It struck him as almost funny that here he was, alone with a desirable woman in a tropical paradise, the two of them almost naked and embracing beneath a lovers' moon...and there was no way in hell it was going to get him anything but a long night of frustration.
He sighed and massaged the back of her neck beneath the thick braid. She felt so small and fragile in his arms. And she was so damned vulnerable.
After a while her sobs decreased to sniffles and hiccup-ing little sighs. With calm came awareness and embarrassment. He felt her tense an instant before she took a step back and eased out of his arms. Sniffing, she swiped at her drenched cheeks with the backs of her hands and looked down at the deck.
"I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"Hey. I'm the one who should apologize, not you."
He tipped her head up with a forefinger beneath her chin. "Abbey," he whispered. "Look at m
e, honey."
Her lips quivered, but slowly her gaze lifted. David looked into those tear-drenched aquamarine eyes, and his heart squeezed.
Light from below spilled out on deck, illuminating her pale face. The emotional storm had given her a blurry, out-of-focus look and left her fair skin blotched. Her mouth was puffy. So was the flesh around her red-rimmed eyes. Tears spiked her lashes and glistened on her cheeks. She looked fragile and infinitely sad, her eyes swirling with hurt and despair.
"You want to tell me about it?"
The uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice caused fresh tears to well up. Abigail's chin wobbled. "There....there's nothing to tell. I, uh... I just overreacted. That's all."
"C'mon, Legs. There's more to it than that, and we both know it."
She sniffed and looked out over the water. For a moment he thought she wasn't going to answer. "I... I almost married once," she said in a wistful little voice.
"So what happened?" David prodded after a moment when she didn't elaborate.
"He... he left me standing at the altar."
"What?"
Abigail jumped. "Well, not literally at the altar, of course. I never got that far. I, uh.. .1 was waiting in an anteroom off the church vestibule."
David muttered a curse under his breath, but she didn't seem to notice, so lost was she in the painful memory.
"When Ted didn't show up at the appointed time, Aunt Harriet kept saying that he wasn't coming, but I didn't believe her. She had never liked him and hadn't wanted me to marry him." Abigail's mouth twitched. "Actually... Aunt Harriet didn't like men, period. She was furious when I started dating Ted during my sophomore year in college. She predicted that I was just going to end up getting hurt, but for once I wouldn't listen to her.
"I waited for over an hour, but finally I had to accept that he wasn't coming." A bitter smile tilted Abigail's mouth, and she looked at David with wounded eyes. "I had given myself to him—heart, body and soul—and he didn't even bother to send a note. He just didn't show up. Later, I learned that he had eloped that morning with his former girlfriend. It seems he had met me on the rebound."
This time David spat out a string of profanity that she could not fail to hear. The thought of her pain and humiliation filled him with rage and an aching sympathy. Damn that slimy bastard to hell! He ought to be horsewhipped!
Reacting instinctively, he reached out and hauled her back into his arms. "God, I'm sorry, Abbey." He cradled her close and rubbed his cheek against her crown. "That must have been awful for you."
She made an embarrassed sound but snuggled against him. "At least I got to hide in the anteroom. Poor Aunt Harriet was the one who had to go out there and tell all those people that the wedding was off."
Humph. Poor Aunt Harriet, my ass, he thought. He'd be willing to bet the old battle-ax enjoyed the hell out of it.
He understood a lot of things better now—the reason for her prickly front, the insecurity behind it, her overcautiousness. He shuddered to think of what Abigail's life must have been like, being raised by that straitlaced old harridan. The one time she had defied her strict upbringing and her Aunt's dire warnings, it had ended in disaster. Hell, she'd probably been toeing the line ever since.
"Jeez, when I think about the lousy things I said to you I'm amazed you didn't clobber me."
"I did." To his surprise, Abigail giggled. It was a weak sound but it made his heart soar.
He tipped his head to one side and looked down at her. "Wanna do it again? C'mon. I'll let you take your best shot."
"Don't be silly," she protested with another watery giggle.
"Why not? I deserve it."
"No doubt. But I'm not going to do it. I can't just hit someone."
"Oh, I don't know. You bashed that guy back at the hotel pretty good," he teased.
Abigail groaned and buried her face against his chest. "Don't remind me. I don't know what's happening to me. I've never done anything so barbaric before."
David chuckled. "Don't fight it, Legs. You need to loosen up a little and let fly now and then—learn to take things as they come."
He could feel her breath stirring his chest hairs, feel its moist warmth against his skin. She gave a shuddering sigh, the last tattered remnant of spent emotion, and sagged against him.
"C'mon. Let's put you to bed. It's been a helluva day, and you're so exhausted you can barely stand."
She did not demur, but leaned against him as he led her below. Once tucked in, however, she clung to his hand. "Aren't you coming to bed, too?"
He hesitated, and her grip tightened. "Please, David." She caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked up at him, her expression at once embarrassed and beseeching. "I... I need to be held," she said in a quavering whisper. "Just for a little while."
It was not a smart move. He knew that. He had intended to fiddle around until she was asleep before coming to bed. He looked at those liquid eyes, and sighed. What the hell.
"Just let me douse the lights. It won't take long."
He was back in less than a minute. No sooner had he slid in beside her and settled his head on the pillow than she moved into his arms and snuggled her cheek against his shoulder.
"Thank you, David," she whispered. She tipped her head up and gazed at him earnestly, her face a pale oval in the moonlight filtering through the window.
A sweet ache invaded David's chest. She looked so damned fragile and sweet. His gaze lowered to her mouth. It was slightly parted, still a bit puffy, and so soft and tempting that he could not resist.
He caught the slight widening of her eyes, felt her go utterly still, but she did not try to pull away. Slowly, delicately, as though she might shatter at the slightest pressure, his lips touched hers.
A whisper, a brush of flesh upon flesh, a moist mingling of breaths—that was all it was, yet the impact was staggering. David felt as though he'd been zapped by a bolt of electricity. The fire sizzled all along his nerve endings.
He pulled back a few inches and saw the confusion and heat in Abigail's expression, and he knew that she had felt it, too.
His heart boomed, and he could barely draw breath. His blood surged through his veins and pooled, hot and heavy, in his loins. Every cell in his body tingled.
David gazed at her, knowing he should stop. He had meant to keep it light and innocent, a kiss of comfort, a soft good-night. But that brief taste had started a conflagration that was already out of control, and with a groan, he lowered his head again.
This time he kissed her with gentle savagery, his open mouth rocking across hers, rubbing, nipping. She lay utterly still, her fingers clutching his chest hair. With a slow, mesmerizing rhythm, his hand glided back and forth over the curve of her hip and thigh. One finger riffled the lace edging on the leg of the pajama panties and trailed a feather-light line of fire along her thigh. He felt her tremble.
Holding the kiss, David stilled, waking, his hot breath dewing her skin. After a moment her lips quivered under his. Then, hesitantly, they parted.
Desire raced through David with the force of a locomotive. With a low growl, he plunged his tongue into the sweet warmth of her mouth and rolled her onto her back. In slow, sinuous strokes, his tongue rubbed hers. The taste of minty toothpaste lingered there, the refreshing sweetness mingling with the salty tears that had gathered at the corners of her mouth.
His broad shoulders and massive chest covered her upper body, pressing her into the mattress, flattening her breasts. The kiss deepened, grew hotter, more demanding. His tongue swirled through her mouth like a hungry marauder, exploring every sweet recess, gliding over her teeth, tracing the curving roof. His bent knee slid between her legs and pressed intimately against her. Abigail sucked in her breath. He pressed harder and rubbed, the slow movement matching the indolent rhythm of his thrusting tongue.
Abigail clutched his bare back and moaned.
The toy sound stoked the fires burning inside David. He ached for her, wanted desperately to strip
the flimsy nightgown from her body and bury himself in her sweet warmth.
But even through the morass of need and want, his conscience prodded him.
"Damn!"
The whispered curse was wrenched from him, raspy and harsh in the silent darkness. Abruptly releasing Abigail, he flopped back against his pillow and draped his forearm over his eyes. His other hand clenched in a fist at his side. For a moment the only sound in the cabin was his stertorous breathing.
"David? Is... is something wrong?"
The timorous question made his jaw clench. "No. Nothing's wrong," he managed, grating the words out through his teeth. "Things...just got out of hand. That's all. I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry. Now go to sleep."
Silence followed—duck and strained. It lasted perhaps ten heartbeats.
"I see," Abigail said in a wobbly voice. "It's because you don't find me attractive enough, isn't it?" David jerked his forearm away from his eyes and rolled his head on the pillow. He stared at her through the gloom as though she'd lost her mind, but she rushed on before he could reply. "Well, fine. I'm certainly not interested in being anyone's charity case."
She tried to flounce over onto her side and scoot away from him, but David grabbed her shoulder and rotted her back. "What in the name of hell are you talking about?"
"You kissed me out of pity and you know it," she shot back, though it was obvious she was battling tears. "You think I'm just a pathetic, prickly old maid and you felt sorry for me. Well, don't do me any favors!"
She tried to roll away again, but this time he grabbed both her shoulders and pinned them to the mattress. He loomed over her, his face like a thundercloud.
"Woman, you're not only a royal pain in the butt, you're also nuts! Not want you? Hell, I want you so bad, for the first time in my life I'm tempted to ignore my own code about women like you. I want you so bad I can't think of anything else but what it would feel like to be inside you. Dammit! I want you so bad I hurt," he snarled in a dark, rough voice that made her eyes widen and sent a shiver rippling through her. "Believe me, I would like nothing more than to strip you naked and make long, stow love to you until neither of us could move." He grabbed her hand and held it against his lower body. "Does that feel like I don't want you?"