Until Morning Comes (The Mississippi McGills)

by Peggy Webb

  Suddenly he released her. She sank onto the bunk, still holding the sheet high around her neck. With her eyes closed, she felt rather than saw him leave. Slowly, she unclenched her hands. The sheet slid onto her lap.

  She took a deep breath. It was time to get out of her stupor. She'd never get Colter Gray Wolf by being easy.

  “I had a patient once who wore a Winnie-the-Pooh gown.”

  Jo Beth's eyes snapped open. Colter was leaning against the door, his face unreadable as he watched her.

  “I thought you had gone.”

  Still watching her, he continued as if she hadn't spoken. “She was only twelve.”

  Jo Beth put her hand over the design on the front of her cotton flannel gown and unconsciously rubbed Pooh Bear's head.

  “I've had this gown for years. Andrew gave it to me when I was in the hospital with pneumonia. He said Pooh Bear would make me feel secure and loved.”

  “Does he?”

  “No. He does nothing except cover me and keep me warm.” She met his gaze.

  Colter didn't speak for a long while. She could hardly breathe. She held herself so still, she got a cramp in her toes. Finally Colter broke the silence.

  “I envy him,” he said, and then he was gone.

  Jo Beth lay back on the bunk, drained. She felt as if she'd given blood to the Red Cross and they'd accidentally taken all she had.

  “Heaven help me,” she said. “What in the world am I going to do?”

  She lay there a while longer, working up her courage. Finally she decided that she hadn't come all the way to San Francisco to fall into Colter's arms and be sent away again. This time, she was going to be in charge.

  She hurried with her bath, then quickly jerked on her clothes—old jeans and a Mississippi State sweatshirt. Dressing to thrill had given way to dressing in a hurry.

  She piled her hair on top of her head, secured it with a maroon ribbon, and hurried into the galley. Toast and eggs tempted her, but she didn't have time for all that.

  She hadn't heard a sound from Colter. For all she knew he had packed his polish rag and gone back to his own houseboat. She poured herself a large glass of juice, then gathered her ammunition and headed to the top deck.

  She was out of breath by the time she reached topside. To her relief, Colter was still there, his back to her, silently working on the brass. It was time for her big show.

  She put a fancy smile on her face and sauntered past him. She made enough racket so he'd be certain to hear.

  Sure enough, just as she was undulating past, he looked up. She put an extra hitch into her walk and glanced out of the corner of her eye to see how he was taking it all.

  The polish rag was still, but so was his face. Too late, she wondered whether he preferred twenties vamps or fifties innocents. It was funny that she didn't know that about Colter.

  “Good morning, again.” She put all the cheer she could muster into the greeting.

  He didn't speak. He leaned against the railing and watched as she pulled out a deck chair and placed her booty on the small table. Without looking at him, she selected the most succulent strawberry in the bowl and lifted it to her mouth. She curled her lips around it and took a big bite. She savored the berry, and then slowly, ever so slowly, she took the uneaten half away. Bits of pulp clung to her lips.

  She made her eyes wide and innocent as she looked up at him.

  “Did you come to tempt me, Jo?”

  “Yes.” She bit into the berry again, never taking her gaze off him. He watched her elaborate flirtation with the berry. When she had eaten the whole thing, she flicked her pink tongue around her mouth. “Want some?”

  “How can I refuse such an invitation?”

  He slowly set aside his polish rag. Colter was not without a sense of drama himself. He seemed to take forever to cross the polished deck. When he reached her, he leaned against the table edge.

  “Are you sure you don't want to retract that offer?”

  “I'm positive.” She reached for another berry.

  He watched her dig into the bowl. When her hand was in midair, he reached out and caught her by the wrist. Leaning over the table, he closed his mouth over the strawberry. He didn't bite into the juicy flesh immediately, but kept his mouth clamped so that the tips of her fingers were against his tongue.

  He held her that way, watching her. A bead of sweat popped out on her forehead and a hot flush stained her cheeks. He moved his tongue back and forth, dragging it with agonizing slowness across her fingertips.

  He held her fingers in his mouth so long, the strawberry began to disintegrate. Finally he was forced to release her fingers and swallow the berry juice. But he kept his hold on her wrist.

  “Do you want another one?” she asked.

  He didn't reply immediately but held on to her, looking deep into her eyes. Memories of September nights in Arizona hung between them.

  His hand tightened. Leaning across the table, his face close to hers, he said, “Don't offer what you're not ready to give, Jo.”

  Her heart raced, but she refused to back down. “Don't take what you're not ready to keep, Colter.”

  The truth of what she had said struck him in the gut. He had taken her, had claimed her for his own, and then he had let her go. She had every right to be angry.

  Was that why she had come here? For revenge? Though it was totally out of character for her, he had to consider it as a possibility. After all, when he had asked her to wait for him, she'd told him she didn't know what she would do.

  “Why are you here, Jo?”

  “I told you. Business.”

  “I think that's only part of the truth.”

  She smiled at him. “You have your secrets and I have mine.”

  “Jo...”He could tell her no more now than he could on White Mountain. Releasing her wrist, he stepped away from the table. “Eat your strawberries. They're good for you.”

  “Doctor's orders?”

  “Friendly advice.”

  “Is that all we are now, Colter—friends?”

  It was a long time before he spoke, and when he did, his voice reminded her of the music of the mountains.

  “That's all we are, Jo... for now.”

  Never taking her gaze from his, she reached into the bowl. The strawberry she selected was overripe and very juicy. She took her time eating it. She sucked on the berry, bit into it, savored it, and finally swallowed the last bite. Then she very carefully licked her lips, like a satisfied cat.

  It was more temptation than Colter could bear. He came around the table and lifted her from the chair. His hands gripped her shoulders and his face was tight.

  “There's a better way to clean your mouth, Jo.”

  He bent down and very carefully traced her lips with his tongue. All the breath left her body. He lifted his face just a fraction from hers, and she could still feel his warm breath when he spoke.

  “Strawberries taste better on you. I think I'll have some more.”

  This time he didn't lick her lips; he took them in a kiss that was so fierce and hot, it burned sill the way to her toes. When he finally let her go, she was actually panting.

  He stepped back, and she put one hand over her puffy lips.

  “Is that what you wanted, Jo?”

  “Colter...”

  “Last night you asked what you would get if you flirted with me. Does that answer the question to your satisfaction?”

  “No.” She dragged the last bit of McGill bravado from somewhere inside her shaky self. “If that's the best you can do, then I've wasted money on these strawberries.”

  Amusement lit his eyes and turned up the corners of his mouth. He didn't merely pull her into his arms—he took her captive. He held her in such a way that she could feel every inch of his body, from the muscular calves and thighs all the way up to the well-toned chest. While his mouth claimed hers, his hands roved over her back.

  There was magic in his fingers. They massaged and explored and aroused u
ntil she was dizzy with desire. She felt as if the houseboat were rocking in a stormy sea.

  Once more she became Earth Mother and he became Father Sky. He filled her senses, even as he had once filled her body. The only thing missing was the music of his native poetry.

  He kissed her silently this time. There on the deck of the houseboat, Jo Beth discovered that she had followed Gray Wolf to San Francisco and had found Dr. Colter Gray instead.

  She ran her hands through his newly cropped dark hair. She had loved the braids, but the hair didn't matter. The thing she missed about her Colter was the Apache music he'd carried in his soul.

  Still in his embrace, Jo Beth made her vow: She'd have it all. She'd have her worldly Dr. Gray and her poetic Gray Wolf, or her name was not Jo Beth McGill.

  When Colter finally let her go, she stepped back and smiled at him.

  “That's much better. I especially enjoyed what you did with your hands.”

  “Then well have to do it again sometime, Jo.”

  He turned and walked away. His departure was as quiet as his arrival had been. The exit was dignified and dramatic, worthy of all his famous ancestors. Jo Beth might have been disheartened, except for one thing: He'd forgotten his polishing supplies.

  She smiled and plucked another strawberry from the bowl. Her assault had just begun.

  o0o

  Colter didn't even stop to change his clothes. He left Jo Beth and went directly to the hospital, driving his Porsche through the streets with the same flair that he rode his stallion through the mountains.

  When he stepped off the elevator onto the third floor, Nurse Martin pursed her fat lips and shook her finger at him.

  “You know good and well that overworked doctors are supposed to stay at home on their days off.”

  “Martin, you know better than to tell a doctor what to do.” He chucked her under the chin. “You're not getting enough sleep. Is that arthritis still bothering you?”

  “No more than that burr under your saddle is bothering you.”

  He laughed. Nurse Martin always had the last word with him.

  “Give me the charts on Briggs and Gladney and keep that lonely-hearts advice to yourself.”

  “Humph. Not that you'd take advice if I gave it to you.” She handed him the chart and looked pointedly at his feet. “Moccasins?” With one finger she reached out and touched a spot on his shirt collar. “Stains? Have I missed something, Doctor Neat? Is the world coming to an end?”

  “Strawberries, Nurse Martin. Have you ever heard of them?”

  “Yeah. But I've never heard of you getting a stain on your immaculate person.” She rolled her eyes. “What is this world coming to?”

  He gave her an enigmatic smile and disappeared down the hall with his charts.

  Nurse Martin turned to Nurse Turner. “What did I tell you, Tilly? Our Dr. Gray is in love.”

  “In love? Not Dr. Gray. He donated his heart years ago. There's nothing in that beautiful bronze chest of his except a time clock.”

  “How do you know what his chest looks like? You been up to something and holding out on me?”

  “Don't I wish.” Tilly Turner beseeched the cool white hospital ceiling with her eyes. “It stands to reason, Geraldine. Anybody with gorgeous skin like that is bound to be bronze all over.”

  Nurse Kemp came on duty just in time to hear that last remark. She adjusted her cap and picked up her ever-ready blood kit.

  “You two would do well to forget about Dr. Gray's assets—whatever they may be—and get back to work.” She adjusted her cap once more and marched down the hall, stiff-backed.

  Geraldine Martin rolled her eyes. “Nurse Vampire's back.”

  o0o

  Colter's patients were impressed by his unexpected visits. They seized their opportunities to regale him with their latest aches and pains and to spin endless tales of woe about the hospital food.

  He listened to them patiently. Then he spent an hour reassuring them. Finally he carried his charts to the nurses' station. Fortunately, Nurse Martin was down the hall answering a distress call. Otherwise he would have been treated to another of her quizzes.

  He left the hospital and drove to his clinic. It was closed on Sundays. He let himself in the back door, and without switching on lights, made his way to his office. He sat in his swivel chair and propped his feet on his desk.

  He'd been fooling himself to believe that he could put Jo Beth out of his mind by working today. He crossed his ankles and leaned back to think. He loved her; that hadn't changed. He wanted her—more than ever, if that was possible. And she wanted him.

  He smiled. There was no doubt about her desire. What he didn't know was her intention. Since he couldn't read her mind he'd have to deal with facts. She'd turned up at the baseball game and the marina. Coincidence? He didn't think so. She was stalking him.

  The sudden revelation brought his feet crashing to the floor. Why hadn't he seen that before? She was using his technique—the Indian way of courtship—but with her own unique flair. The second stage was giving presents. And the third stage... He stared off into the distance thinking about the third stage of Apache courtship.

  He couldn't expect Fate to keep dropping Jo Beth on his doorstep. If he covered her with his blanket this time, he'd for damn sure better not let her go. Instinctively, he knew that he wouldn't get a third chance. This was it.

  He opened his desk drawer and took out a notepad and his favorite pen, the thick one with the big tip. He divided the paper into two columns. Then he began to list problems and possible solutions.

  The process took hours. When he had finished, his future was outlined in bold black letters.

  He put the pad in his desk drawer and the pen in the pencil holder. Then he leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

  “Jo Beth McGill, I'm ready to let you conquer me.” He chuckled. “But I promise you, it won't be easy.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jo Beth knew Colter's habits. Jim and Hannah Roman had been knowledgeable and more than willing to help.

  She sat on the deck of Jim's houseboat, waiting for Colter to appear. Jim had said Colter spent hours each night sitting on the deck of his boat, communing with nature.

  Jo Beth glanced at her watch. It was already eleven-thirty. If Colter didn't show up soon, there wouldn't be any nature left to commune with. Clouds had been building in the sky since afternoon. Now they all but obscured the few stars that had been brave enough to shine.

  Her feet tapped impatiently on the polished wood, and she was just getting ready to go below when she saw a shadow across the way. She leaned over the railing and squinted into the darkness.

  “Out for a stroll, Jo?”

  Colter's voice floated across the bay, rich as music and bright with good humor.

  “I'm enjoying the cool night air. How about you?”

  “I'd enjoy it more if you were by my side.”

  “Is that an invitation, Colter?”

  He laughed. “Do you need one, Jo?”

  She didn't reply immediately, but lolled against the railing and lazily lifted her hair off her neck. She knew exactly what the sight of her hair in the moonlight did to Colter Gray Wolf. Only a sliver of moon was visible tonight, but it was enough. She stood directly in its path and fanned her hair through her fingers.

  “If that's for me, I approve.”

  She leaned over the railing once more and pretended innocence. “If what's for you?”

  “That performance.” He clapped his hands, and the sound was magnified across the water. “Bravo, Jo.”

  “Thank you. I do love an appreciative audience.”

  “Do you love music, too, Jo?”

  “Yes.”

  He walked to a small table and turned on a portable radio. The melodic strains of “As Time Goes By” wafted across the bay. Colter reappeared at the railing.

  “We missed our dance in the mountains, Jo. May I have this one?”

  “Won't that be hard to do with you o
ver there and me over here?”

  “I can remedy that.”

  Once more he left the railing of his boat. She saw him walking across his deck and watched while he disappeared over the side. She was still leaning forward, looking across at his boat, when he tapped her on the shoulder.

  She whirled around. “How did you get here so quickly?”

  “Apache secrets.” He caught her shoulders and gazed down at her. “You're wearing the blue dress.”

  “I felt festive tonight.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “It's this city, I guess. It's very romantic. Especially here on the water.”

  His right hand slid down to caress her bare back. She shivered.

  “It's a little cool for a bare back, Jo, even in California.”

  She'd been thinking the same thing as she'd shivered in the breeze for the last two hours, waiting for him. But, of course, she didn't tell him so.

  “I have warm Mississippi blood.” She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “Hot blood.”

  “Let's find out just how hot your blood is.” He put one hand on her cheek, and she lifted her face toward his. He leaned down until he was only an inch from her mouth, and then he chuckled.

  She jerked her head back.

  “Did you think I was going to kiss you, Jo?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You were all puckered up.”

  “I never pucker, Colter.”

  He smoothed back her hair, watching the play of moonlight in its bright strands. “I remember, Jo.” His voice had gone as low and gentle as the murmur of a mountain stream. “You never pucker. You open.” He traced one finger around her mouth. She wet his finger with the tip of her tongue.

  He brushed his lips against her temples. “Do you want to keep playing the game, or shall we put an end to it?”

  “What game?”

  He leaned back and looked into her eyes. He had his answer. She wanted to play out the game. He'd done more than send her away in the White Mountains. Without meaning to, he'd rejected her. He understood that now. He also understood that she had to get him back in her own way. She had to have her moment of triumph.

  He'd give it to her.

  “Let's dance, Jo.”