Toby had seen Kate as dangerous, kitchen-challenged and tomboyish. But for the first time, he saw the dreamy, childlike Kate. The girl who’d grown up and still dreamed of pirates and romance. As she looked around, her eyes turned a soft blue, reminding him of the hazy morning skies over Mount Tamalpais. And her lips, which he’d often seen quirk into that impish grin, now curved sweetly in an almost ethereal smile.
“Sometimes,” she said conspiratorially, “when the room isn’t rented, I’ll come up here and sit by the window, watching the bay. I’ll imagine that, far in the distance, I see marauding pirate ships, battling for treasures and loot.”
He didn’t think it was his imagination that she looked at him as though he was one of those marauding pirates. He liked that look on Kate. Loved it, if he were truthful.
As though embarrassed by her own whimsy, she suddenly moved away to a far wall on which hung a poster. It showed a man with a ring in his ear, a devilish grin on his tanned, handsome face. She cleared her throat. “Douglas Fairbanks, Senior,” she explained, pointing at the man in the picture, “in the title role of The Black Pirate. What do you think? This could be you, in the Caribbean.” Kate pointed to the poster on the opposite wall. “Or you could be Errol Flynn in Captain Blood.”
“You belong in the Caribbean.”
She held up her hand, stopping him from saying more. “Don’t,” she said softly. She looked out the window. “Remember last night when the moon was full? Granny and I called those Captain Blood nights because anything can happen. Granny said the air was charged for adventure and passion. All you had to do was close your eyes and dream.” Kate closed her eyes. “I see you and Free on a big white ship, people playing shuffleboard and drinking Mai Tai’s.” Kate opened her eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think it sounds like a potentially sloppy shuffle-board game.”
“Cruises offer other things, too. Gourmet meals. Exercise classes. Some even have spas on board.”
“What happened to adventure and passion?”
“Well, that’s up to you and Free, I suppose.”
They stared at each other for a long, drawn-out moment. Finally Toby broke the silence. “All right. Plan a cruise with shuffleboard, and little drinks with umbrellas, and whatever else you think would be good. Because at this moment, I really don’t care what Free and I do. All that matters…”
Is you, Kate, my sweet, passionate romantic. Blood pumped wildly through his veins, as though fighting for control of his intellect. Fighting for him to let go, to love.
“I’ll be right back. “ He quickly exited the room.
Feeling awkward at Toby’s sudden departure, Kate decided not to second-guess his words, and to simply wait. Maybe, unlike the many promises Henry had made, Toby would really be right back. She bided her time by staring out the window. In the distance, the moon hovered over the vast, dark bay. It reminded her a little of Beaufort, and the many nights she and her granny sat and stared at the ocean, talking about life and pirates.
The door creaked open. She turned…and gasped.
There, in the opened doorway, stood the pirate of her dreams, his face submerged in shadows, his body encased in black leather pants and a red silk shirt that fell open with reckless abandon, exposing a chiseled, hairy chest. And between his teeth, a miniature saber.
Toby, a wicked gleam in his eye, stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He removed the saber and tossed it onto the bed. “Come here, Kate.” He stood wide legged, his presence boldly intimidating. And wildly, forbiddingly sexual.
A shudder ripped through her as she released a slow, ragged breath. He was everything she’d ever fantasized about. And here he was in the flesh, asking for her, the object of his pirate’s passion. “I want to,” she whispered, “but…” One night of wild lust could only bring heartache in the long run.
She imagined the future. Looking out her window and seeing her neighbors, Toby and Free, who by then would probably be calling herself Goldenrod or Horsefly, stringing beads or whatever they did together in their spare time. Kate, still calling herself Kate, would wave hello as though she were just the matchmaking innkeeper next door while her heart shattered because of her one secret night of love with the man, the pirate, of her dreams.
But if she refrained, stopped it now, she could always remain the fun-loving, former-car-bombing neighbor who occasionally waved hello to Toby, the man with whom she’d always remained friends and never crossed the line to being lovers.
“Come here, Kate,” he repeated in a low, throaty tone. He snapped off the light. The milky haze of moonlight filled the darkened room. “I want to make love with you.”
She closed her eyes, trying to remember why she shouldn’t go. But all she was aware of was the scent of his woodsy cologne swirling through the air like an invisible hook, drawing her senses toward him. Drawing her toward him.
She crossed the room, impelled involuntarily by her passion. She was a few feet away when he stepped forward and crushed her against him. “Be my lover,” he whispered, his words thick with challenge and desire. “Be the woman I see inside, the romantic…”
Her heartbeat skyrocketed as she pressed her face into the warmth of his neck. “And the object of her pirate’s passion,” she said softly, giving into the moment, craving the experience, not caring about tomorrow.
He groaned as his mouth possessed hers, claiming her. Electricity tore through her as she returned his kiss. He tasted hot, salty. His lips alternately brushed, nibbled and devoured hers. She pulled away for a breath and his mouth seared a path of hot kisses down her throat.
“Oh Kate,” he said roughly. And then he swept her into his arms and carried her to the far side of the bed. But instead of laying her on top of the burgundy satin cover, he set her down so she stood in front of him.
“I want to watch you,” he murmured. “Savor all of you.”
His hands encircled her waist, tightly, as though he never wanted to let her go. Then slowly, slowly, his hands slid upward, taking her T-shirt with them. Next, she felt the button on her pants pop, heard the rip of the zipper. He gently pulled down her pants, stopping at her feet. As though obeying his unspoken command, she kicked off her sandals, then stepped out of her pants.
She stood in front of him, feeling momentarily awkward in her white cotton bra and undies. A romantic woman would be wearing something skimpy, satin. But her insecurity diminished when she caught the look in Toby’s eyes. Even in the moonlight, she saw his heated gaze, and how he looked at her as though she was wearing something skimpy, satin. She casually wiped at the sudden mist in her eyes. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t dressed perfectly, or did anything perfectly, because Toby saw her as romantic, desirable Kate just for being herself.
He picked up the knife off the bed.
Her heart lurched.
He held the blade up, the moonlight glinting softly off the blade’s edge, which he moved toward her, slowly.
She thought she’d be afraid, but she trusted Toby. Knew he was playing out her fantasy of the plundering, passionate pirate. And knowing that made her skin prickle pleasurably at the anticipation of what was to come.
He eased the blunt side of the blade underneath the thin piece of cotton between the cups of the bra. Then he pulled the blade toward him, gently. And yanked. With a rip, the bra fell apart, exposing her breasts.
Her nipples puckered at the onslaught of cool air. “Beautiful breasts,” he murmured. He tossed the knife onto a table and cupped her mounds, causing her nipples to harden. She moaned as his heated hands kneaded and stroked.
Then his mouth was nipping, sucking on her breasts while his hand slid down into her underwear, finding her delicate nub. He eased off her panties with one hand as, with his other, he continued to expertly massage her swollen cleft. She dropped her head against the wall and groaned with all the need, the hunger that had been pent up inside, yearning for release.
Then he withdrew his hand and stepped back. “Take my
clothes off, Kate.”
She’d never undressed a man before. But she felt eager, excited at the thought of unwrapping her fantasy pirate. She grasped the slick silk of his shirt and opened it wider. As she pulled off his shirt, she kissed and nuzzled the thick carpet of chest hair before tossing the shirt aside. She rubbed her cheek against the stubble of his beard, luxuriating in its roughness, before she kissed him again.
Then, slowly, she released the button of his pants and drew the zipper down.
He tugged the pants the rest of the way off and stood, hard and thick, in front of her. “Touch me,” he murmured.
She curled her fingers around him. Liquid heat flooded her insides as she stroked, increasing the tempo with his escalating groans of pleasure. He was primed. She was ready. “Take me,” she whispered urgently.
He again lifted her into his arms, and after pulling aside the netting, laid her on the bed. He stood next to her, but with his back to the window, she couldn’t decipher the look on his shadowed face. Then the tone of his voice told her everything.
“You’re my treasure, Kate,” he whispered huskily.
Instinctively she drew him to her, taking the weight of his body on hers. Then, she took control, taking him inside of her, gasping at the intense pleasure.
His tongue plunged into her mouth as he entered her fully, plundering her, taking her. She matched the lunging of his hips, driven by the aching of their primitive need. And in a singularly euphoric moment when she felt his heartbeat against hers, heard his murmured words of desire, everything inside her exploded in a thrill of pleasure that propelled her beyond the edge of her fantasies.
Afterward, as they lay on the bed in silence, they watched the moon float across the inky San Francisco sky until it disappeared, like a pirate ship sailing over the edge of the world, leaving behind only the memory of its journey.
KATE YAWNED AND NESTLED against the pillow. She stretched a little, yawned again and flickered open her eyes.
When had she bought purple-and-gold-stripped pillows?
A deep groan, from somewhere near the pillow, distracted her. She glanced up at the hard line of a jaw stubbled with beard. Toby! Kate reared back and blinked. Toby, deep in sleep, lay on the far side of the bed, a lock of his sandy hair falling over his broad forehead. Memories of their lovemaking flooded her. They had consumed each other as though there would be no tomorrow.
And yet, tomorrow was here.
But she still had these last few moments, precious moments, to soak in his essence, memorize his features. These memories would have to last her a lifetime.
She eased out a pent up breath. No man had a right to look so sexy first thing in the morning. Had she ever noticed the slight flare to his nostrils? Or the tiny white scar underneath his right eye? She’d never know the story of that scar. Her insides caved in a little. Just as they’d never fully know each other, know all the secrets of their bodies, their desires, their dreams. And they’d never again wake up together. Never sleep in each other’s arms. Never listen to the beating of each other’s hearts in the middle of the night.
Toby’s eyes opened. He stared at her, those brown eyes smoldering with inner fires as he obviously remembered their secrets of the night before. “Good morning,” he said seductively.
He was sexier than a man had a right to be. She pushed the bad-boy curl off his forehead, mostly for the sheer pleasure of touching him again. “Good morning to you, too.”
One side of his mouth curled into a slow smile. “The morning’s good, but you were better.” Then he winked. A lazy, sexy wink that made her pulse beat faster than if she’d consumed a supercharged latte. She started to say something about his being even better than her better, but stopped short when she glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
“Oh my God!” She bolted upright.
“What?”
“Time!” She started to scramble out of bed, but one of her feet got caught in the netting. She swung her foot this way, then that, muttering curses worthy of a pirate’s woman.
“Kate, let me help,” Toby said dryly. He reached over and plucked the errant netting from around her big toe.
She continued to hold her leg midair, watching him with a moony expression. “You have a way with your hands,” she blurted, her skin flushing with heat as she remembered the night before.
“And you have a way that drives a pirate wild.” Toby reached for her and tugged her close, murmuring things in her ear. Her suspended leg fell back onto the bed with a soft thud. He pulled away, his eyes burning with that look again. “What should we do right now?”
“Make biscuits.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“It’s noon. We were supposed to get breakfast ready for The Wild One.”
He laughed under his breath. “I appreciate a woman who appreciates business.” He glanced at the clock. “But they’ll have to accept lunch at this point, which, I suggest, isn’t sandwiches.”
“Verna always notes what time to serve breakfast on the corkboard,” Kate said, playfully jabbing his arm for the sandwich comment, “unless Mom checked in The Wild Ones, but she wouldn’t know to note it on the board, so I need to find her, and if she’s not around, I need to get the biscuits in the oven.”
“I’ll help.”
They both clambered to get off the bed, sliding every which way on the satin cover, and over each other, in the process. Toby grabbed Kate by the shoulders. “We need to coordinate who’s moving in what direction,” he said, “or we’ll be here forever and no one will get biscuits.”
Be in The Pirate forever? Not such a bad way to spend the rest of one’s life. “Right,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll go first, you follow—” Kate stopped. “No, you stay here.” She slipped off the bed and grabbed her clothes. “I’ll drop your pants off with Mom, check the biscuit situation, then bring you your clothes from Kismet.” She shimmied into her T-shirt. “That’s where you left them, right?” She liked how they’d started out in Kismet, fate, and ended up in her fantasy world, The Pirate. Not a bad journey for a brief affair.
Brief affair. She didn’t want to think about that now. She buttoned her pants.
“I feel bad that you’re having to do all this running around while I sit and wait.”
“You can run around, too, if you’re in the mood to be an exhibitionist.” She slipped her feet into her sandals.
“Okay.” He thumped his heart with his fist. “You really know how to get to me with that quirky sense of humor.”
Kate looked at where he’d playfully hit his chest, at that mass of butterscotch hair that curled provocatively over a set of nicely molded pecs. She’d miss his body.
She’d miss him.
But rather than insert even one millisecond of melancholia into their one and only morning—well, technically afternoon—waking up together, she said lightly, “I might take a few extra minutes in case I need to serve biscuits.”
“Cook them first.”
She grabbed his leather pants off the floor. “I’ll try to remember,” she said drolly before clicking the door shut behind her.
KATE NEARLY TRIPPED as she scampered down the stairs, tucking the T-shirt into her pants with one hand while clutching Toby’s leather pants with the other. She hadn’t even looked in a mirror. Her hair was undoubtedly sticking up, her eye makeup smeared, and who knew where bits of flour remained.
No, she doubted there was even one speck of flour left on her body after last night.
Scampering even faster with that thought, she hit the bottom step in record time. If breakfast still needed to be served, she’d run a comb through her hair, wash her face and heat up some biscuits. Heat up. What was that temperature? Four-fifty for eight minutes? Eight-fifty for four minutes? One of them would do.
Kate tore into the kitchen. Empty, except for the tantalizing scent of yeasty biscuits. Kate stopped and smiled. Someone had already baked them! A very good sign! She glanced at the stove, where a pan and
spatula lay, bits of what looked like eggs stuck to the bottom of the pan. Another good sign! One of the kitchen queens had saved the day. Kate could forget about worrying if it was four-fifty or eight-fifty and get on to her next task.
She tossed the pants onto the butcher table—making a mental note to remind Melanie to please sew the rip—and bolted out the swinging door and down the hallway to her bedroom. She’d forgotten all about the cruise reservations! She needed to make those first, then she’d wash her face.
Damn.
She couldn’t call her travel agent unless she knew exactly when Toby wanted to do this cruise trip. If she made the reservations, then changed the dates, there’d be a penalty fee. Cruises were expensive enough without tacking on penalty fees. Kate skidded to a stop next to the pine desk and glanced back down the hallway. No signs of life. The Riddicks were probably in their room, quaffing biscuits and eggs. Melanie was nowhere to be seen—maybe she was kicking up her heels at a Martha Stewart convention. And Verna was late—as her note had said—or she was out running an errand.
So no one would see an uncombed, smeared Kate if she dashed back up the stairs, asked when Toby wanted this cruise, then dashed back down to her room to call the travel agency.
Kate’s long legs bounded up the stairs two at a time. She told herself her breathing was ragged and she was sweating because of all this running up and down stairs in record time, but her heart told her this whole damn cruise thing hurt, despite the fact she’d already—pre-lovemaking—accepted that Toby needed to work things out with Free. Be a big girl, Kate. It’s time to play matchmaker. You knew this time would come. She glanced underneath the door to Pollyanna, wondering if she should have brought the leather pants to her mother’s room.
Bam!
She smashed into something, hard. Reeling, she regained her balance and stared at a forest of familiar butterscotch. “What?” She paused, heaving a breath. “What are you doing out here?” Dressed only in your tiger-striped briefs?
In Bed with the Wild One & In Bed with the Pirate Page 27