by Diana Palmer
“No, you can’t,” Bess interrupted softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve loused things up for you and Kingston, and I almost destroyed my own marriage, all because I couldn’t tell Bobby the truth, couldn’t tell him what I really wanted. Elissa, Bobby and I aren’t getting a divorce. I finally got up enough nerve to swallow my pride and say what I felt, and now we’re staying together. I was sure Kingston would have told you by now. He was the one who convinced me to talk to Bobby,” she added, stunning Elissa into silence. “I tried to tell you when you phoned that time, but you hung up. Bobby and I were visiting him.”
Elissa could hardly breathe. “Visiting?” she echoed hoarsely.
“I guess you had a pretty good idea what was going on all along, but most of it was just in my mind. Poor Kingston was truly caught in the middle, all because he felt sorry for me. Well, he’s big brother again, and I do adore him. But if you’d seen him these past weeks, you’d know that he didn’t give a hang about me—not the way you thought. He’s nearly worked himself to death, taken crazy chances with the livestock and that new sports car of his—he’s gone hog-wild, Margaret says. Margaret tried to get him to go see you, but he wouldn’t. He said he couldn’t go until you asked him to, because that would mean you still loved him. Margaret says he loved you all along, only he didn’t know it. I think he knows it now. I just hope I haven’t done anything to take his last chance away from him. I think he’ll go crazy without you, and that’s the truth.”
Elissa was still trying to find her voice. “I sent him away,” she whispered tearfully. “I thought you and he were getting married. I couldn’t let him sacrifice his own happiness … just because I was pregnant.”
“Oh, Lord, I hate myself!” Bess groaned. “Listen, can’t you go after him?”
“I don’t know where he’s gone,” Elissa wept.
“Well, if he comes here, I’ll send him back,” Bess promised. “Now you go get some sleep. Don’t worry too much, it isn’t healthy for the baby. My gosh, Bobby and I will be uncle and aunt. That sounds so nice. Get some sleep, honey. Everything will be okay—I promise.”
Elissa’s heart warmed at the compassion in that soft voice. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “You’ll let me know if he shows up there?”
“Of course I will. And good luck.”
“Thanks.” Elissa hung up with a sigh. Lately, all her luck seemed to be bad. She went to the sink and bathed her flushed face. It didn’t help a whole lot, so she went out the back door and onto the quiet beach. Maybe a walk would help clear her mind.
She wandered along in her robe, hardly seeing where she was going for the pain. What irony, she thought miserably. She’d sent him away, and for what?
She didn’t notice the silent figure near the dune until he spoke. “You’ll catch cold,” he said, his voice deep and lazy.
Elissa whirled, catching her breath, to find King sitting there, smoking a cigarette. He was in his shirt sleeves, his chest bare where the white shirt was unbuttoned, his dark hair untidy.
“What are you sitting there for?” she asked shakily. “I thought you’d gone.”
“Oh, I started to,” he agreed pleasantly. “And then I realized I had no place to go.”
“There are hotels in Miami,” she faltered, wrapping her arms around herself as she drank in the sight of him, her eyes adoring every hard, powerful line of his body in the darkness.
“You don’t understand.” He put out the cigarette. “You’re the only home I have, Elissa,” he said quietly. “I don’t have any other place to go.”
Tears stung her eyes. She’d never dreamed, even when Bess was telling her those things, that he cared that much. Trembling a little with mingled excitement and fear, she went to him and dropped to her knees in front of him.
“I thought it was Bess,” she said simply.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark with possession. “So did I, at first,” he returned. “Until you started taking me over, that is. First my body, then my heart. In the end, all I felt for Bess was compassion and responsibility. I could have told you that when you left, but you wouldn’t listen,” he said gruffly. “Seven weeks I’ve stayed away, hoping against hope that you’d miss me. I broke speed records getting here tonight, and for what? To be told you didn’t give a damn!”
She stopped the tirade with her mouth. Poor wounded man, she thought. She slid her arms around his neck and felt him tremble as she pushed, gently unbalancing him. He fell against the dune, and she fell with him, her softness melting over him, her eyes red from crying, her mouth tasting of salty tears.
“Will you listen?” he ground out against her lips. Then he groaned and captured her, enfolding her against the warm strength of his body. His mouth opened under hers. She felt the deep penetration of his tongue, the throb of his heart. He was hers.
She nibbled his lower lip, lifting her head to stare down at him, her eyes adoring, sure of him. Her hands smoothed back his hair, and she smiled as she touched him with confident possession.
“Are you, by any chance, trying to seduce me?” he whispered. His heart was pounding, and his body was making insistent statements about what it wanted. He tried to shift her so that she wouldn’t feel how vulnerable he was, but he couldn’t budge her.
“Just lie still,” she chided. “I know you want me, so there’s no use trying to hide it.”
He glared up at her. “Rub it in,” he muttered.
She bent and kissed his eyelids with aching tenderness. “Were you going to sleep on the beach?” she whispered.
“If that was as close to you as I could get, yes,” he said angrily.
He was a hard man, she thought lovingly, lifting her head to look at him. A real handful. But she could manage him. They’d been friends a lot longer than they’d been lovers, and now she knew how to throw him off balance, as well.
She sat up, opening her robe. “I want to show you something,” she said without the least bit of self-consciousness, although she peeked down the beach, knowing her parents were eventually going to come looking for her. Under the robe, she was as she slept, bare except for a tiny pair of blue briefs.
He stared at her, stunned, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“This is what you did to me,” she whispered tenderly. She took his hands and held them to her minutely swollen waistline, watching the incredible expression that tautened his face as he touched her.
“My child …” His voice was soft, deep, reverent.
She gathered his head against her sensitive breasts, tears stinging her eyes as she rocked him, cradled him, feeling his lips touch her, though not in a sexual way. His hands smoothed over her under the robe as he brought her against his body, holding her so close that she could barely breathe. And she cried, because he cared and because she loved him.
“You little imp,” he whispered, nuzzling her warm throat. “I’m so crazy about you. I would have carried you home to Oklahoma in my arms, walking.”
Her lips touched his face, her breath catching as he turned and put his mouth with aching tenderness to her breasts.
His hands came up to touch them, to cup them. He moved, laying her down gently on the robe so that he could look, could explore the new contours of her body with his child tucked under her heart.
“Our baby,” he whispered, his fingers trembling as he lay beside her in the darkness with the surf crashing behind them.
She trembled with the profundity of the moment. “I know exactly when we made him,” she whispered.
He met her eyes. “So do I, to the very second. I meant to, even though I was temporarily confused about Bess. Do you know that the minute I got home from putting you on that plane, I patched up her marriage? She admitted that she loved Bobby, that she was just lonely. She’d never stopped loving him, but she was afraid to tell him how she really felt. She did, though, and now they’re closer than ever. They’re even talking about having babies.”
She laughed. “She called me a f
ew minutes ago. She wanted to clear the air.”
“Nice woman. I’m glad she and Bobby have finally gotten their act together.” He looked down into her eyes, searching. “Do you know how I feel, or do you want the words?” he asked gently.
“Have you ever said them before?” she countered.
He smiled ruefully. “No. But I never wanted to before, either.”
“When did you know?” she asked.
“I knew how you felt when you were willing to give yourself to me in Jamaica.” He laughed at her startled expression. “That’s right, tidbit, I knew before you did. But there was Bess, and I didn’t think I wanted that kind of involvement. But when I saw you lying in bed in that sexy nightgown, and I got hot and bothered like I never had before …” He bent and brushed his mouth over hers, reveling in its soft, trembling response. “After that, bad went to worse. I didn’t really want to seduce you at the ranch, but my body got the best of me.”
“Yes, so did mine.” She sighed, nuzzling his cheek. She closed her eyes. “It’s been hard living with it, King,” she whispered.
“How do you feel about starting over again?” He touched her abdomen. “And decide quick, would you? I think he’s already growing.”
She grinned at him, drunk with happiness. “As if I could have stopped loving you.” She laughed. “Seven weeks, damn you!” She hit him.
He crushed his mouth down on hers, suddenly all man, all domination, burning her with his ardor. “Damn you, too,” he growled, his lips hard against her mouth. “Calling it a ‘cheap little roll in the hay,’ when I’d never loved a woman that way in my life. Sticking a knife in my pride, my heart. I went off like a wounded animal to lick my wounds, then went to Jamaica with my heart in my hands to offer to you … and you’d gone. You’d sold the cottage and taken Warchief, and the real-estate agent said you hated the cottage and everything connected with it.” His eyes narrowed. “I guessed that meant me, too. So I went back to Oklahoma and drank myself into a stupor, then set about working myself to death.”
“While I was sure you were going to marry Bess,” she murmured. “I knew how you felt….”
“How you thought I felt,” he corrected. He kissed her softly. “I slept with you for one night, and it ruined me for any other woman. You’ve haunted my dreams ever since. An innocent, and you gave me the first total fulfillment I’ve ever had.”
She smiled against his mouth, bristling with pride. “Sitting up, too,” she murmured, and she blushed wildly.
“Don’t smile about it, you brazen hussy,” he taunted. “I needed my head examined. I prayed every night that you’d end up pregnant,” he confessed, “because I knew you’d send for me. Your sense of honor would force you to. And then I’d come to you and take care of you and find some way to make you love me again.” He traced her breasts, watching them tauten in the moonlight.
“Don’t forget,” she whispered, loving the sensation, “that my parents are just down the beach.”
He kissed her softly. “I hadn’t forgotten,” he said with a rueful smile. “I’m not about to give them any more cause to resent me.”
He helped her back into her robe and pulled her onto his knees, cradling her.
“How could they resent the father of their very own grandchild?” she whispered, her mouth brushing warmly over his. “He’s going to be just like his daddy.” She smiled. “Tall and dark and handsome and gentle.”
“Blue-eyed,” he whispered, tilting her warm mouth up to his.
“Brown-eyed,” she whispered back, and drew his lips over hers.
A long time later, he lifted his head. “Elissa?”
“What?” she murmured dreamily.
“I think we have company.”
She looked up. Her father was sitting on one side of them, his knees drawn up under his bathrobe, watching the surf. Her mother was on the other side, similarly clad, humming.
“Lovely night,” Mr. Dean remarked.
“Lovely,” his wife agreed.
King and Elissa burst out laughing. “The marriage license and the rings are in my jacket pocket,” King told them. “All we need is a quick blood test and a quiet little ceremony, which we hope you’ll perform. You, uh, might have noticed that we’ve rather jumped the gun,” he added with a sheepish smile.
“She likes kosher pickles in her corn flakes, and he wonders if we’ve noticed that they’ve rather jumped the gun,” Mr. Dean addressed his wife.
“Yes, dear, I heard.” Mrs. Dean grinned.
“And in case it crossed your mind,” King murmured, glancing wickedly down at Elissa, “we’ve been controlling those interesting impulses that led us to this delicious complication. We’ve just been trying to decide what color his eyes will be.”
“I like girls,” Mr. Dean suggested.
“What’s wrong with a boy?” Tina asked innocently.
“Maybe it will be both,” Mr. Dean remarked. “Her appetite has been extraordinary.”
“I’d like twins,” King murmured, his eyes shining with everything he felt as he looked at the slender, beautiful woman in his arms. He glanced up at her parents, who were on their feet now. “I’m sure you’d rather things had worked out a little more conventionally, but I guess I had to learn how to love.”
“You seem to have the hang of it now, son,” Mr. Dean said dryly.
“It’s not all his fault,” Elissa muttered. “I sort of forced him into it.”
“You did not,” King flashed.
“I thought you told her the facts of life,” Mr. Dean murmured to his wife.
“I thought you did,” came the dry reply.
“Well, we might try again. Come on, children, we’ll have coffee and discuss some details,” Mr. Dean said, sliding an arm around his wife’s waist. “Nice boy.”
“I think so, too.” Mrs. Dean stopped, glancing behind as King gently helped Elissa to her feet. “There’s just one thing, Kingston,” she murmured, frowning. “I shouldn’t really ask, but can you support her, working in a garage? If you need any help, we’ll do what we can.”
King burst out laughing. He drew Elissa close to his side and fell into step beside her parents. “While we have that coffee,” he told them dryly, “we’ll have a little talk about the oil business.”
* * *
Two weeks later, King and Elissa were back in Jamaica at his villa, Warchief happily installed in his cage while his owners set out for a new and delicious experience on the beach. It had been a learning period for them both, getting to know each other without the barriers of uncertainty and mistrust.
Just before they’d left for Jamaica again, Elissa had even found a way to tell King about his father, still alive and in a nursing home. King had listened to her, then sat staring into space for a long time. Minutes later, he’d gone off to use the phone. When he came back, he’d looked thoughtful and pleased. She’d later learned that he’d spoken to the old man and had promised to go and have a long visit with him after the honeymoon. It was a milestone, Elissa had thought.
And speaking of milestones … She hesitated as they walked out onto the damp sand.
“Someone will see us,” she squealed as King stripped her out of her robe and nightgown, leaving her bare and beautiful on the white beach.
“The only person who might lives in the cottage, and she’s away for a week. I checked,” he said, chuckling and pausing to strip out of his own robe. “Come on. You’ll love this.”
He led her into the warm, rippling water, and she felt it swallow her up like a satin embrace. She gasped at the exquisite freedom of it while she swam and floated and finally wound up close against a smiling King.
“Now I see why you like it,” she whispered. “It’s … incredible.”
“Yes, isn’t it?” But he wasn’t looking at the water. His hands were busy under its surface, doing things to her body that made her gasp and cling to him and cry out.
He took her cry into his mouth, taking full advantage of its position to e
xplore it in a silence that quickly grew hot and hungry. He lifted her into his arms and carried her out onto the beach, putting her down gently in the center of a huge beach towel. He stood over her, his body fully aroused, his eyes, dark and wild, devouring her as she lay there. “I want you,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Then why don’t you come down here and do something about it?” she whispered huskily, stretching in a way that made her tremble.
He eased down completely over her, his hands gently tangling with hers, letting her have most of his weight, feeling the bare saltiness of his skin over every inch of hers.
“You look like you did the first time,” she said softly.
“I was hungry then, too,” he murmured, finding her mouth. “Starving for you, by then. I still am. But it’s … hard to describe.” He lifted his head, shifting his hips to make her gasp. “Patience,” he teased softly. “I want to talk first.”
“Talk fast,” she pleaded.
He nipped her lower lip and teased it with his tongue. His hands were on her waist now, her hips, moving her body against the hair-roughened contours of his in a kind of love play he’d never used with her before. She caught her breath, clutching at the broad shoulders above her, the fires kindling deep in her body.
He looked down the length of them, smiling at the tremors claiming her long, slender legs, shudders that he could feel along with her changed breathing. “There are hundreds of paths to fulfillment,” he whispered, moving his eyes slowly back up to catch hers. “This is a new one.” He bent, putting his mouth to her breasts.
“I thought … you wanted … to talk,” she gasped when he took a hard nipple into his mouth.
He laughed huskily. “I’m not sure I can just now. Oh, baby,” he breathed, positioning her, hungrily assaulting her mouth, dragging his body against her until she was on the verge of tears with the sensations he was arousing.
Her nails scored him, and she moaned. “I’m sorry,” she whispered shakily. “I didn’t mean to …”
“Bite, claw, scream,” he ground out against her mouth. “Whatever you need, whatever you want, I’ll give you. Tell me.”