Nash understood. He valued what was beautiful and important and dear to her. They might be different in the ways they worked, in the ways they organized, in the ways they lived, but there was a bond, a connection, in the way they thought...and felt.
The salty mist clung to her bangs as she tried to see into his soul, to learn about his past, to see his pain, to convince him he could trust her.
She must have conveyed the right message. He drew her away from the water, back to the gradually shelving beach, unbuttoned his shirt, and laid it on the sand. They sat together facing the black magnificence of ocean and let the low roar of the waves, the soft mellow oblong of moonlight, and the warm gentle breeze work their calming magic. There was no one in sight, no human sound for miles.
Nash curled his arm around Beth's waist and stared straight ahead. "This is difficult for me to talk about."
Beth slackened against his shoulder. "Shannon told me you had a daughter and she drowned. Don't be angry with her. I pried it out of her."
He shifted, his restlessness apparent. "Because of the way I acted?"
"Yes." Beth tried to keep her tone even, but didn't quite manage it.
"You were hurt I didn't tell you."
She concentrated on an oyster shell buried in the sand. "Disappointed."
His hold tightened slightly. "But you didn't push or ask this afternoon."
"I wanted you to feel free enough to tell me yourself."
"I haven't told you because I'm trying to work beyond it. It hurts too damn much to stir it up." His voice was distant, removed, as if he didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it.
"But it was stirred up this afternoon."
He let out a burdened sigh. "In spades. I'm usually not overprotective with the boys, but put them near water..."
His words trailed off with a tightness that told her he was fighting his emotions. He began slowly. "Christy was everything to me. Everything good and sweet and perfect. She had beautiful silky brown hair and sparkling green eyes and cheeks that were always rosy. Even after Monica and I began having problems, we never disagreed about Christy. She was our glue. I suppose that wasn't good."
His wistfulness curled around her heart and she had to swallow the lump that rose in her throat. She laid her hand on his thigh. "From what I hear, it's not unusual for a married couple to center their life around their children."
His hand came up and he waved away the excuse. "It's not unusual, but it doesn't make for a strong marriage. I guess that's why when Christy died, ours fell apart. One of the reasons, anyway."
The silence between them wasn't easy. Common sense told Beth that Nash needed to talk about what had happened. His feelings were still so raw because he'd never released them. "Can you tell me what happened?"
She felt him take a deep breath and thought he might move away, but he didn't. "I went out of town for a few days. Monica took Christy swimming in our pool. Christy loved the water. She didn't want to get out, but Monica insisted. They were watching a video together when Monica fell asleep. The family room had a door that opened onto the patio. From what we can piece together, Christy let herself out, managed to open the unlocked gate at the pool, and got in by herself."
Beth felt his shudder as he said, "Monica found her in the deep water."
Nash's body was tense, stiff, as if he didn't control every muscle, he wouldn't control any. His sexy, strong, exciting exterior hid vulnerability. She could accept that. But could he accept her knowing it was there, or worse, seeing it?
She knew she was taking a risk but suspected Nash needed something no one had done for him. She turned, wrapped her arms around him, and held him tight. "You can let it go, Nash. Just let go."
When she stroked his back, he dropped his head on her shoulder.
"Being strong doesn't mean not feeling," she murmured. "It doesn't mean holding pain in."
He trembled and she held him tighter.
Waves pounded to the shore. A fog horn blew in the distance. Time sifted around and over them without touching them. Beth could feel Nash's anguish, the sadness and loneliness that reminded him his daughter was gone. Nothing she could say would take it away. Only time could do that. And maybe her love.
Eventually, he raised his head. She leaned back and ran her thumb over the tears on his cheek. He wouldn't look at her but merely stared over her shoulder. "I feel foolish."
"There's no reason to. Men need to be held as much as women."
He shook his head. "Society doesn't accept that."
"To hell with society."
He finally gazed into her eyes. "I didn't embarrass you?"
She held his face between her palms. "I respect a man who can let himself feel. I respect him even more if he can share what he's feeling."
He covered her hands with his, lifted one to his lips, and kissed her palm. Then he lowered them to his lap. "I'm not as strong as I like to believe," he confessed. "The end of my marriage made me feel less of a man, impotent in my ability to relate to a woman. I closed off a part of myself to protect it. But I hid it so far inside, I lost it. You've helped me find it again."
"I'm glad." She didn't say more because she sensed he had something else to say.
"You know, I practiced being unflappable all my life. With my dad when he drank because someone had to be in charge, with my mother so she didn't know I was afraid I'd let her down. I got really good at it until it was part of me. Maybe if I'd been less unflappable, less strong, Monica would have seen I was as devastated as she was when Christy died."
"You didn't talk about it?" The silence answered her before he did.
He seemed to have to push out the explanation and the memories he wanted to forget. "No. We both blamed ourselves, we blamed each other. I thought it was my duty to be stolid, logical, reasonable. I set aside the possibility I could fall apart. I not only denied my feelings to her, I denied them to myself. Before we split, she called me cold and unfeeling. I'd thought I was being steady and dependable."
Beth was intensely aware of the hurt he'd experienced, the blow to his self esteem. "I don't know what to say."
He put his hand on her nape under the fall of her hair. "You don't have to say anything. Your listening is enough."
His touch sent tremors down her back. "Anytime, Nash. Whenever you want to talk, I'm here."
"That's true for me, too."
Nash's sharing elevated their relationship to a new plane. He trusted her. She wanted to trust him, too. She'd tell him about John. But not now. She didn't know how he'd take it. Besides, what was the loss of her self-esteem compared to the loss of a child? Right now she needed to be there for Nash. Her problems could wait.
But how long? Sooner or later he'd find out about her past. These things had a way of cropping up when least expected. And then what?
Intuitively she knew neither of them could have a shallow fling, not and face the mirror in the morning. But serious could still mean temporary. Serious didn't always lead to forever. And she suddenly realized that's what she wanted with Nash. Forever.
That realization raised the stakes irrevocably and made her even more protective of the love she was feeling.
Nash encircled her with his strong arms. She lifted her head and met his lips in a kiss that was ineffably sweet, infinitely loving, temptingly giving. As the kiss increased in fervor, Nash's hands slipped under Beth's top and pulled it up.
She pulled away. "Nash, we can't."
"No one's around for miles." He unhooked her bra and stroked her back. "It's just you and me, and I want to love you. I need you, Beth."
She couldn't deny him this. She couldn't deny herself. "I need you, too."
They undressed each other slowly, stretching out the pleasure, guided by each other's breathless murmurs. Nash became more earnest, his hands rougher, his kisses more demanding.
He laid her back on the sand and just stared. "I love looking at you."
Anticipation trembled in her voice. "I like y
ou touching me even more."
He ran his finger around her nipple. "Like that?"
"Mmm. Yes."
He lowered his head and traced his tongue over the skin where his fingers had touched. "And that?"
His tongue was hot, wet, rough, erotic. A shower of fire pricked her breast and sped to her womb. "I love that."
He kissed around her navel and rubbed his chin in the downy hair below it. His head dipped lower.
The firestorm tingled until her whole body quaked. "Nash."
"It's going to feel good, baby. So good. Trust me."
She did.
His tongue slipped into her folds, flicking, taunting, driving her crazy. The sand scraped her shoulders as she writhed and tried not to arch toward him wantonly. But the sensations were too overwhelming for her to stay still. Her hands went to his back and she clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. She felt the goose bumps break out on his arms right before his tongue sent her soaring and she climaxed.
Moments later, Nash stretched on top of her. The iron strength of his need probed her belly. He rubbed his body sensually against hers, their skin sticking, releasing, contacting, exciting.
Nash rose up. The moon illuminated his face. The angles and lines were taut with need, his eyes fierce with passion. With one smooth thrust he entered her. Seized by her desire, she tugged on him to drive deeper, but he pulled out.
"Stop teasing me. I want you."
He slid in and out again. "I'm not teasing. I'm prolonging."
When he drove in again, she caught him in her arms and nipped his shoulder. He chuckled and moved within her. She tightened, released, tightened, released until he sighed. "Each time I think it can't be any better. And it is."
He lay still, his breathing shallow as her hands massaged his head and she squeezed him tighter with her thighs. He kissed her arm, her shoulder, then homed in on her lips.
His mouth crushed hers and his tongue's hungry swirling had her clutching his lean flanks. She was drowning in an ocean of sensual delight. She broke away to kiss his face. His skin was hot under her lips and she could feel the tiny lines that gave it vitality and character. She moved beneath him in an age-old sorcery of motion that made him greedier to possess her. He thrust more vigorously, calling the rhythm, driving with the pounding of the surf, invading Beth's being until she accepted the volcanic eruption that racked her body in tide after tide of rippling pleasure.
She wanted to shout, I love you, but held back. Soon she'd tell him that, too.
****
The night breeze cooled Nash's heated, damp skin as he recovered from their loving. Beth's vibrancy and beauty reminded him of a Tropicana rose. The florid orange-rose color that stood out anywhere, a floral scent that he could liken to an ancient Siren's song, softness so delicately feminine it almost hurt to touch it. Whenever he looked at her, the earth moved. It was damned unsettling. She drove him wild.
He was learning more about her. Her sighs, her shivers, her pleasures. A stroke along her neck and she quivered, a pass over her hip and she sighed, a gentle kneading of her breast and she softly moaned.
Pleasing her was always his initial aim. But he ended up losing control, getting greedy, being engulfed by a force more potent than he wanted to admit. He was frightened by the depth of his feeling. She was becoming his world.
She'd been so tender and compassionate about Christy. So accepting. He hadn't realized how much he needed that, how much he needed to talk about his daughter and let the emotions flow. Ingrained in him was an innate reluctance to discuss his feelings that had come from growing up too soon, too fast. He'd never let them loose with anyone.
He trusted Beth. But she still didn't trust him. He'd given her an opening and she hadn't taken it. He'd been so tempted to tell her he knew her past, yet he didn't want her to feel betrayed. He didn't want to spoil what they had. But could their relationship be based on anything but complete honesty?
CHAPTER TEN
Beth's car grunted, sighed, sputtered, and died. She banged her fist against the steering wheel, frustrated but not surprised. The engine had given her nothing but trouble for the last two months. Thank God she was sitting at a stop sign rather than a stop light.
For the next few minutes as she turned the key in the ignition, she cooed, cajoled, and pleaded as if the vehicle was a recalcitrant pet. But it wouldn't respond. With a resigned sigh, she flicked on the flashers and jumped out. She'd just have to leave it while she called the auto club from the Handy Mart a half block away. She also called Nash.
He arrived a few minutes after the tow truck. By then, Beth was steaming. As Nash came up beside her, she said, "Would you believe drivers thought I was sitting there for my health? They honked, gestured, swore. What was I supposed to do? Get out and push it?"
The tow truck lifted the front end of the car.
Nash pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. "You could have stood next to the car and hiked up your skirt. You would've gotten plenty of help."
She glared at him. "How can you suggest such a chauvinistic--"
He knocked his shoulder against hers. "You've got legs to make a man drool. Never mind your eyes, your hair..."
She wasn't sure if she wanted to grin or keep on frowning. "Are you trying to make me angry enough to forget I have to pump more money into that heap and my mom and dad are probably sitting on my front door step wondering where I am?"
"Nah. I'm trying to seduce you."
She burst into giggles. "You're good, Winchester. But not that good."
"Oh yeah?" He caught her to him and kissed her until her hands twined around his neck and restless desire rose up to overtake her.
He lifted his head. "Am I good?"
Her words were a bit breathless. "You're awesome."
He kissed the tip of her nose and deeply sighed with the recognition that they couldn't go any further here. "Do you want to stop at the garage before I take you home?"
He could make her lose her head completely. Was it good to give a man that much power over her? She couldn't answer that question, but she could answer his. "No. I'll call them." Nash checked his watch. "I have an appointment in an hour. I can probably wrap up business by five o'clock. Does that give you enough time with your parents?"
"That's plenty of time to catch up on news."
"I'm looking forward to meeting them. Are you sure you don't want to go to a nice restaurant instead of to a flea market?"
She saw the uncertainty in his eyes and realized the self confident, strong Nash Winchester wanted to make a good impression. She had to make it clear her folks were ordinary people who would accept him because she did.
"Mom loved it the last time she was here. Flea markets are one of her hobbies. And Pops like the selection of foods--especially the sausage sandwiches, the funnel cakes and the soft ice cream. They're bringing a cooler so they can take Lancaster-grown products back with them."
Nash's features relaxed, his lean cheeks losing their tautness. "It sounds like they know how to appreciate simple pleasures."
"They do."
He ran his thumb over her chinline. "So do you. Our picnic in bed last night was better than dinner in a four star restaurant."
"Joe's deli makes great hamburger subs."
"I was more influenced by the company and the dessert." He wiggled his brows and his eyes twinkled with passionate mischief.
She felt herself blush. They'd fed each other, licked crumbs from bare skin, shared cheesecake kisses. She'd let a cherry drop provocatively on her breast then... When Nash touched her, caressed her, made love to her, she felt wild, abandoned, free. And he always encouraged her.
"You'll have to settle for doughnuts or apple dumplings tonight."
"Or wait until your parents go to their motel. Then we can see if there are any leftovers from last night."
She loved having Nash stay with her. She felt equally at home at his house. Actually, she felt good anywhere as long as she was with him.
She couldn't imagine her life without him.
As Nash drove to her apartment, he asked, "Have you thought about buying a new car instead of getting yours fixed again?"
"Not seriously. I hate owing money. I just finished paying back--" She stopped.
"A loan?"
Her stomach muscles clenched. "Yes."
"On your car?"
"No. It had to do with the business."
Nash gave her a scrutinizing look but she didn't elaborate. She'd meant to tell him about John last night, but she'd felt so carefree, so happy. And she was afraid of the disbelief she might see in his eyes, or worse yet condemnation she didn't deserve. And if she saw that, she was terrified their relationship would never be the same.
"You wouldn't have to take out a loan. I could give you the money."
Her brows furrowed and she wondered if he'd lost his mind. "For a car?"
"Sure." His leg moved from the accelerator to the brake and back. "You could get whatever you want--"
He was serious. "No. Absolutely not. That's worse than a loan. I'd feel beholden."
He stopped for the car in front of him, waiting until the driver turned left. "That's an old-fashioned word."
"Maybe I am old fashioned in some ways."
"You accepted the roses I brought you and the chocolates."
"Not cars. I don't want to feel...kept. And I won't put myself in a position to be ridiculed."
He shifted his gaze from the road to her. "By whom?"
"By anybody who knows I can't afford to buy a new car!"
"No one has to know."
That's what she'd once thought. She'd thought people minded their own business because they were busy with their own lives. But she'd found out differently. "People talk, Nash. I'm not going to be food for that." Not ever again.
"So you live your life according to what outsiders think?" He sounded incredulous, as if he'd never expect that of her.
"Of course not."
"It sounds that way to me."
"You don't understand."
"Help me try."
She didn't know how to explain the turmoil, the chaos that had been brought on by the scandal. "We don't live in a vacuum. What we do affects others."
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