A curious melting feeling followed. Oh, Lord, Cammie thought. I’m as bad as Donna Jenkins, my love-starved Cherry Blossom Lane alter ego!
Something in her face must have registered, because with a sound of frustration, Ty took the cup from her unresisting hands and pulled her toward him, his arms surrounding her, his chin resting on the crown of her head. She counted her heartbeats, aware that there was no turning back. With a sigh of surrender, she pressed her cheek against his flannel shirt. Fleetingly, she warned herself not to tell him she loved him, but then he stirred, his mouth pressing kisses against her temple and the lobe of her ear, and all conscious thought fled.
Her fingers dug into the soft fabric of his shirt, bunching it spasmodically as his teeth bit the lobe of her ear, tugging gently and causing curious sensations to swirl inside her. She’d been married, but was still inexperienced when it came to sensual pleasure. Paul had been fairly quick in his lovemaking, almost clinical sometimes, his mind unable to disengage from the next plot or plan to spend a lot of time pleasuring his wife. Cammie had felt that was the way it was supposed to be, except for that encounter with Ty. Even in his numbed alcoholic state, his hands and mouth and body and overall need had worked their magic to turn her into a quivering mass of desire. She’d cried out with every plunging thrust, begging for more even while a distant part of herself marveled at her own wantonness. She’d wrapped her legs around him and urged him onward, her only regret that the experience was over much too quickly.
Of course, other regrets had come later. But right now, with her flesh shuddering and her lips reaching up to meet his, those thoughts were distant little pinpoints of light, fading away into a black vortex that seemed to be pulling her under. She met his kiss urgently, and when he groaned softly, pressing her weight against the counter, his own weight hard against her yielding contours, her knees turned to jelly.
“Cammie,” he murmured, his hands sliding into the curtain of her hair, holding her head hostage to his plundering mouth and tongue. That tongue stabbed between her parted lips. The tip of Cammie’s tentatively reached forward and Ty sucked it between his own lips. A swirling sea of emotion overtook her, weakened her already puny resistance. Resistance? What a laugh! She wanted him as much as he wanted her. More, probably. And though there was no future in this, no positive ending, she couldn’t stop herself, because she wanted it too badly.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered when he drew back to look at her.
“I can’t,” he admitted simply.
And then his fingers began unbuttoning her blouse. She watched it fall away and one of his tanned hands reach forward and twist the front clasp with an expertise that left her feeling even weaker. She gazed up at him.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t look at me like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like a trapped animal.”
Cammie half-laughed. “You’re reading me wrong. My God. Ty…I want you…”
That did it. Whatever eleventh-hour nobility had possessed him was shattered. With renewed vigor, he kissed and caressed and pressed his body against hers. His hand cupped her breast, kneading it, his finger and thumb rubbing the hard button of her nipple between them. His hips pinned her to the counter, and there was no mistaking his urgent arousal. With a feeling of stepping outside herself, Cammie’s fingers reached down and slid over his sex, cupping it. A moment later his hand came to help, rubbing her fingers over his manhood in a smooth motion that quickened Cammie’s blood.
He groaned deeply, releasing her a moment later to grab the snap of her jeans. With fingers grown clumsy from desire, he yanked on her zipper, snagging it, then muttered a suppressed oath.
Cammie swept his hands aside and performed the deed herself, her jeans sliding helplessly down her hips. His hand instantly insinuated itself in her most feminine area, sliding beneath the band of her silky panties to touch the hub of her pleasure.
Cammie gasped, shocked by the stab of pure sensation. She’d never been quick to arouse with Paul. In fact, she was damn near impossible to excite. But this, this!
Her hands were now at his shoulders, pulling him closer even though their bodies were practically fused. This time, when his head bent to her breast, her hands curled in his hair, pulling and releasing rhythmically. Sensations ran from her breasts to the core of her femininity as if pulled by strings. She wanted to lie down on the floor and let him have his way. She wanted to moan and writhe and cry out like a primal animal.
“Ty…Ty…” she breathed.
And when his head bent lower, his tongue licking a trail over the soft hill of her abdomen, his fingers parting the way for his intimate penetration, she simply lost all strength. She slid down the counter to the floor, and as Ty’s hot tongue teased and tormented, she let out a sound between a scream and a whimper, reaching a climax so fast her body convulsed in wild ecstasy.
It felt as if she surfaced from some distant netherworld, her brain slowly engaged to realize that Ty was frozen against her, his body poised but immobile, his own motions in tandem with hers, subsiding with the spent relaxation of her own spasms.
Embarrassment wanted to cloud her judgment, but she pushed those thoughts aside, her fingers burrowing between them to release the zip over his straining manhood. He pressed his face to the downy curve of her cheek, letting her undress him until they were both naked, their jeans and underclothes kicked away.
And Ty, balancing himself above her on his locked arms, looked into her sultry eyes and said, “The kitchen floor?”, to which she broke into paroxysms of laughter.
He grinned as well, then hauled her to her feet, sweeping her into his arms before that same old embarrassment could do more than pinken her cheeks. Carrying her to the bedroom, he laid her on the bed, then slid down beside her, one hand running from her neck to her thigh in a soft, sweet motion that incited her sleeping desire once more. She couldn’t get enough of him!
“I’m a shameless hussy,” she said on a gurgle of laughter.
“Good,” he admitted.
“I’m going to hate myself in the morning.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, and the amused look on his face slowly dissolved into an urgent hunger that made Cammie catch her breath.
“No, I’m not,” she agreed, but the words were stolen from her as his hard mouth pressed down on hers. His hands cupped her rounded bottom, fusing their bodies, even as his knee nudged her legs apart. Then he lay atop her, and Cammie, whose memory of their one night together superimposed upon this time, wound her arms around him, her ankle entwining with his leg, holding him close, as if she feared he would leave her before she was satisfied.
But this time Ty had no intention of going partway. He simply couldn’t restrain himself. His hard member rubbed against her warmth and she could feel the flooding of herself she would have found impossible to stop if she dared try. Meanwhile, his mouth kissed her with urgency, all over, and her own tongue tasted the taut skin at his shoulder and neck, reveling in the masculine saltiness. When she felt the tip of him nudge entry into her womanly flesh, her hands slid down his thigh to grab his hips, urgently yanking him closer until Ty gave up every hope of resistance and thrust himself inside her.
Cammie gasped. It had been a long time since she’d made love to Paul. Longer yet with Ty, and she’d forgotten the sweet feeling of possession, of desirability, it engendered. But then Ty began a rhythmic movement, and she was lost in helpless desire and memories. Paul had never taken such time with her; she hadn’t even realized that fact until now when she could recall every breath and touch from when they’d made love before.
Her sensitized skin responded with a shudder. She sighed, then caught her breath.
“Cammie…” Ty whispered longingly.
“Please…”
She wanted him to do something more. To stop this slow, delicious torment, to hurry. Her hands begged with fervent demands, pulling his hips close while she strained against him. But Ty refused to cha
nge his rhythm and soon Cammie’s head tossed about on the pillow. It was sweet torture! She couldn’t stand it. She cried out, begging something unintelligible.
His mouth pressed hot against her neck, his tongue licking in tandem to his thrusting body. When she came, it was a skyrocketing climax, her whole body convulsing, her words sweet pleas and declarations of love.
She collapsed, drugged with sensual pleasure, chest heaving, lost in lovely numbness. And then she heard his tense voice.
“Do you use birth control?”
“What?” she asked, dazed.
“Cammie, please, I can’t hold off much longer.”
Reality truly was a cold dash of water, she thought dimly, her brain clicking into reluctant action as his words penetrated. She felt cold, doused with icy fluid, all joy and warmth and love eradicated under a cascade of frigid reality.
Ty was struggling, his body telling him one thing, his brain another. He didn’t want children, she remembered. Maybe because of Gayle’s deliberate murdering of his unborn child, maybe because of his father’s absentee parenting, or maybe because of less dramatic reasons, such as simply not being interested in fatherhood. The one thing she held most dear, and he was fighting it!
“It’s taken care of,” she stated bitterly, that old familiar pain seeping into her soul.
“Cammie…”
“Shhhh…” He didn’t believe her completely. Why should he? He didn’t know her situation, and this was certainly not the right time to tell him. But still, her heart spilled over with love, and she wanted this lovemaking, this union, more than anything. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, and when her hands slid between them to lightly feather the skin of his abdomen and tentatively touch the place of their joining, Ty’s defenses crumbled.
With a groan he ground himself against her, his body hard and thrusting, surprising Cammie by bringing her to sudden, unexpected climax once again. She panted and whimpered and Ty bucked in a last drive that sent his seed spilling hot inside her at the same moment she cried out again in a rush of pleasure. He collapsed against her seconds later, and her arms crushed him close, cradling his head as she brushed her lips across his angular cheekbone.
And Ty slowly raised himself above her, the look on his face impossible to read. Cammie’s lips quivered. What was he thinking? Was he regretting their coupling already?
But his next words, though they explained his reaction, shocked her to her very core.
“Have we done this before?” he asked incredulously.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The walk to the Goosedown Inn seemed way too short today. Cammie hurried along, half walking, half jogging, glancing over her shoulder from time to time in guilty worry that Ty might somehow be following her. She needed no coat all of a sudden, as the rain-laden breeze had disappeared and a soft, yellow sun parted the clouds in the afternoon sky.
Spring was well on its way, and soon it would be summer. Summer…Summer solstice…She uttered a sound of worry as she hurried up the steps to the picturesque hotel. With a nod to the girl at the desk, she tucked herself in the alcove beneath the stairs where two public phones stood. Neither was occupied, and with nervous fingers, Cammie dialed Susannah’s number collect.
“Coburn and Associates,” Teri’s cheery voice answered the phone.
“Hi, Teri, it’s Cammie,” she said. The skin at the back of her neck feathered and she glanced around sharply. No one was there.
“Oh, hi! Susannah’s in a meeting with a client,” Teri said. “Can she call you back?”
“Um…no, not really. I hate to bother her, but is there any chance I could catch a few minutes of her time.”
“Sure,” Teri answered, her doubtful voice revealing her true feelings.
Cammie drummed her fingers on the receiver, waiting impatiently for Teri to convey the message. The girl at the desk walked by Cammie, bestowing a smile of recognition on her as she passed. Cammie had become a fixture at the Goosedown Inn, having made this trek several times. The girl, who was not the same one who’d answered all Cammie’s questions that first night in Bayrock, had come to know her. Cammie wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but there it was. She had yet to engage her in conversation, figuring it was better to keep her identity as secret as possible. She would hate for Ty to learn of her ulterior motive before she was ready to tell him about it, if, indeed, that day ever came.
“There you are!” Susannah declared, sounding breathless as she clicked on the line. “I had to run down to the phone in my office because I was in the client room with an actor.”
“Who?” Cammie automatically asked, using nosiness as a means to delay her own reason for calling. Susannah was not going to like what she had to say.
“Oh, you don’t know him,” she brushed off. “He’s too good-looking for words, but he’s got this way of coming on to every woman he meets, as if we’re all dying to be seduced. He doesn’t know any other way to relate, and believe me, he’ll never get a role with that sleazy, chauvinistic attitude.”
“But you’re his agent.”
“Not yet,” Susannah stated emphatically. “Maybe I can change his ways. Too early to tell yet. He’s such a jerk!” With scarcely a pause, she added, “But enough about him. Where areyou? And, more importantly, when are you coming back?”
“I don’t know,” Cammie murmured, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Is that what you called to tell me?”
“I told you I’d call.”
“That’s the only reason? You mean to tell me, you don’t care what’s going on here?” Susannah sounded appalled.
“What do you mean?”
“Everybody’s going crazy over Rock Bottom. It’s scheduled to start production in July!”
Cammie’s heart lurched. “Oh, I see.”
“You see what?” she demanded. “Cammie, you’ve got to get back here, with or without you-know-who!”
Cammie slowly inhaled through clenched teeth, wishing she could feel some kind of inner peace. As it was, every time she called Susannah, she just tensed up. So many people seemed to be counting on her, and she was failing them at every turn. “They’re going to have to recast, aren’t they?” she asked, resigned to her fate. She couldn’t accept the role. Not now.
“They’re going to have to cast somebody,” Susannah averred. “And if it’s not you, then someone else. But, Cammie! You could have this! Just get your tail back here ASAP.”
“They’d hire me without that contingency? The reason I left?” She hated being so oblique, but there were ears everywhere. She didn’t want to be the one who finally blew Ty’s cover. Let it be from some other source.
“They want him. Samuel’s practically apoplectic!”
Cammie gasped involuntarily. “You saw Samuel?”
“The man’s been a fixture around here,” she stated dryly. “He’s not particularly good at waiting, and I have to admit, I’m getting pretty sick and tired of it.”
“He’s hanging around your office? Why?”
“Why do you think? Because of you!”
“Me?”
“Oh, Cammie, for pete’s sake. The man’s obsessed with this idea of all of you working on this film. It’s amazing it hasn’t hit Variety yet, or any of the other trades. But Nora and James are getting itchy, you know what I mean? They want this thing signed, sealed, and delivered. Everyone’s waiting for you,” she added on a sigh.
“Well, they can’t!” Cammie declared, distressed. “It’s not up to me.”
“Oh? Then what are you doing in God-knows-where? Taking up residence? You’ve been gone over three weeks, my dear. If you haven’t found what you’re looking for, then you’re on some other quest you haven’t come clean about.” There was a pregnant pause during which Cammie gathered her uneasy thoughts. Susannah waited for an answer, then finally, when she realized Cammie couldn’t give her one, she cajoled, “Come on, girl. Level with me. Have you found what you’re looking for?”
“I�
��think so,” Cammie admitted uncomfortably.
“You think so?” Susannah was cautious in reading too much into her words.
“Susannah, I’m not sure I want to come back,” Cammie admitted in a rush.
“Oh, come on!”
“No, I’m serious. Ever since I had that first meeting with Dr. Crawley, I’ve tried to figure out what I want I don’t know if acting—a career—is the most important thing to me.”
Susannah was clearly poleaxed. “Well, what else do you have?” she asked, puzzled, unwittingly hitting the bull’seye of Cammie’s insecurities dead center.
“Not a heck of a lot,” Cammie admitted with false lightheartedness. Inside, something crumbled and fell apart, some last hope for marriage and family and love. Though Susannah didn’t mean to, she struck to the heart of the problem, reminding Cammie of how little she possessed in the way of happiness, and how farfetched any chance for achieving it truly was.
“Look, hon, I don’t mean to be a downer. Good God. I love you!”
“I know.” Cammie could scarcely squeak the words past her lips.
“But please, think about what you need. Think about what I need,” she added in a humorous aside. “You’ve got a career on the rise that most people would kill their best friend for.”
“A career on the rise,” Cammie repeated a bit sardonically.
“I’m not kidding. Even without this opportunity, you’ve got solid standing in this community. Don’t throw it all away just because you’re at a low point. Come back. With or without the man of the hour.”
“The Connellys won’t use me without him,” Cammie reminded her.
“Oh, pooh. Who cares? I’m still working on them. Just come back, so I can show them that one of their stars really exists.”
“Do they know what I’m doing?” she asked suddenly, alarmed.
“How could they? I haven’t told them.”
But maybe Samuel Stovall has.
The thought churned across Cammie’s brain, sending a cold frisson up her spine. She mumbled some platitudes and good-byes to Susannah, then walked to a chair in the lobby and sat down hard.
Someday Soon Page 20