Summer Mahogany

by Janet Dailey

  Her trembling legs were curled to the side. She drew the top of her swimsuit over her nakedness, holding it in place with a shaking hand, and started to move toward him.

  He either sensed her intention or heard her movement. "Don't come near me." His taut voice trembled huskily, but the tone was unmistakably commanding.

  "Why?" she whispered, in a mute appeal to have him make her understand.

  He raked a hand through the side of his hair and answered roughly, "If you have any sense, you'll leave me alone for a minute."

  "But—'"

  "Fix your swimming suit," ordered Rhyder, as if giving her something to do.

  Shakily Gina did as she was told. Her rounded gaze of uncertain green never left the point between his shoulder blades. The wet straps of her swimsuit weren't cooperating with her efforts to tie them together, but Gina didn't really care.

  "Did I…did I do something wrong?" she asked hesitantly, betraying her youth and inexperience as she tried to find out why Rhyder had so abruptly terminated the embrace.

  There was a slight movement of his head in a negative answer. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said in a sigh heavy with self-disgust.

  "Then what is it?"

  "What is it?" Rhyder laughed harshly as he turned to look at her over his shoulder.

  He stared at her for a long moment. His savagely taunting laughter ended at the sight of her. Gina didn't realize that the effects of his lovemaking were still in her face. Her lips were parted and sensually swollen by his possessive kisses. In the bewildered green of her eyes, there was still a fiery glow of desire. The softness of surrender was in her features.

  His eyes darkened to a midnight blue. For a moment Gina thought he was going to gather her again into his crushing embrace, but a mahogany mask stole over his features, carving them with hardness.

  A series of fluidly combined movements turned him to face her as he rose to his feet, his hands gripping her arms to draw her with him. She would have swayed against him, but iron muscles kept her an arm's length away.

  "Don't you want me, Rhyder?" she asked, not meaning the question in a carnal way.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. He released her and bent to retrieve her towel from the sand. "You shouldn't ask such questions, Gina," he growled with taut control.

  A crimson heat stained her cheeks as she realized what she had asked. Then, crazily, she knew she had to hear him say that she did attract him sexually, man to woman. She lowered her head, ignoring the towel he held out to her.

  "Do you?" she persisted quietly in a strained voice.

  "Dammit!" He reached out to jerk her a foot closer to him.

  Her face lifted to gaze at the impatient anger in his expression. Rhyder's attention became focused on her mouth. The parted softness of her lips was an irresistible lure. He pulled her within an inch of his own.

  "Dammit, yes," Rhyder muttered brokenly, and claimed her lips once more as his personal possession.

  His arms circled her in an iron band to crush her against the naked wall of his chest. The sun-bleached hair on his legs chafed the smooth skin of her thighs as he molded her to his length. Arched roughly against him, Gina felt the thrust of his male hardness and, for the first time in her young life, knew the answering, primitive ache within herself.

  With a muffled groan, Rhyder pushed her away, shoving the beach towel into her hands. Gina didn't protest this time. She was shaken by the discovery that his touch could completely make her lose control, something she thought happened only in romantic novels. The realization was sobering.

  "Go home, Gina," Rhyder ordered tersely. "Go home to your grandfather before…" He clamped his mouth shut without completing the sentence.

  "I…" She wanted to say something. She didn't know what. She didn't need any pictures drawn for her.

  Rhyder turned away, massaging the back of his neck. "For God's sake, don't say any more," he said thickly.

  Bowing her head, raven hair falling across her cheek in a silken tangle, Gina took a step toward the rocky path leading from the beach, then hesitated.

  She glanced back at him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, without really understanding for what.

  "You're sorry!" Rhyder breathed out roughly, the blue lance of his gaze piercing her. "The disgusting part is that I'm not!"

  A cold chill ran down her spine. Her knuckles were white from the death grip on the beach towel. A chasm seemed to he widening between them and it frightened her. "Will I…see you again?" she whispered.

  "Not if I can help it," he muttered.

  "Rhyder." She issued a broken plea for him not to mean that.

  "Are you so young that you don't realize what's happening?" He tipped his head to one side, the line of his mouth uncompromising and grim.

  "I don't care." The tortured words were torn from her throat.

  "You damned well should," snapped Rhyder.

  Gina flinched. "Are you leaving?"

  A heavy sigh broke from him and he paused before answering. "Not right away," he admitted grudgingly.

  "Then I will see you again?" she persisted in breathless hope.

  "I suppose it's inevitable."

  Rhyder walked away toward the ocean waves. He didn't look back as Gina slipped on her sandals and took the path up the headlands. She felt caught in a vacuum, between boundless love and despair.

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  Chapter Three

  "ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS left today," Nate Gaynes announced blandly.

  Really?" Uninterestedly, Gina stabbed at a pea on her plate.

  "Aye," her grandfather nodded. His hair had once been as dark as hers, but age had liberally streaked it with iron gray. The years hadn't dimmed the perception of his eyes. They gleamed now keenly at Gina across the table. "The coast guard got a hold of him this mornin'. There was some emergency in his family and he flew home."

  "He?" Until that moment Gina hadn't been paying attention to what her grandfather was saying.

  Now it was undivided. Initially she had thought he was talking about a school friend going off on vacation, but that wasn't whom he had meant.

  "That's what I said." He bent over his plate.

  "From the Sea Witch?"

  "Aye."

  "Which one left?" Gina held her breath. "The sunny-haired one."

  Relief washed through her. "That's Pete."

  "That could have been his name," he conceded.

  Gina fell silent, the possible implication of her grandfather's announcement racing through her mind. Since the afternoon on the beach, she had seen Rhyder on three different occasions. Each time Pete had been present, unknowingly acting as a chaperon. Rhyder had said little to her. Most of the conversation had been between Gina and Pete.

  The meetings hadn't been all that satisfying, although a couple of times Gina had caught Rhyder watching her as she talked to Pete. Naked desire had burned in his eyes, only to be quickly veiled when he became aware that she had noticed. Not once had he attempted to be alone with her or indicated a wish to be.

  But Pete had left. He wouldn't be there anymore to keep them apart. Hope flamed with new vigor. Another thought occurred to her before the renewed fire got out of control.

  "What about Rhyder?" she asked suddenly. "Will he be leaving?"

  "I shouldn't think he'd be goin' anytime soon, unless he's a fool. Strikes me he'd be smart enough to hire him another deckhand before fightin' his way up to Boston. Either that or wait for this Pete to come back, if he's comin' back." Nate Gaynes leaned back in his chair and took a pipe out of his pocket.

  Silently Gina agreed that Rhyder wasn't a fool. It wouldn't be easy for him to find a deckhand, either. Most of the men in the immediate vicinity were already employed. It would take at least a couple of days, if he were lucky, to find someone to replace Pete.

  Gina glowed with the knowledge that she'd be able to see Rhyder again—alone. There wasn't any way he could prevent it. And she believed that secretly he didn't want to, no
t really.

  "You're sure lookin' happy as a clam about somethin'," her grandfather observed, holding a match to his pipe and puffing until the bowl of tobacco glowed.

  Gina flushed slightly and began stacking the supper dishes. "Really, gramps, I don't know what you're talking about," she shrugged offhandedly.

  "Harrumph!" he snorted in disbelief. "You've been moonin' around this house for the better part of a week. The last person I remember behavin' that way was your daddy. It was back when he was seein' your mother before they was married. Trouble was, she was seein' the Wilkes boy, too. He was actin' about the same way you been."

  "I'm surprised you can remember back that far, gramps." Gina kept her face averted as she teased him in an attempt to change the subject.

  "I do." The pipe was clamped between his teeth, the fragrant aroma filling the kitchen. "I notice you ain't denyin' it."

  "Denying what?" She tried to sound blank and indifferent.

  "That you admire this Rhyder feller."

  "What are you talking about?" Gina carried the dishes to the sink and turned on the taps to draw the dishwater.

  But Nate Gaynes ignored her question. "He's a good bit older than you. You realize that, don't you?"

  "You were eleven years older than grandma," she pointed out, adding the dish soap.

  He ignored that comment, too. "And you don't know how he is with women. With his money and background, females probably fall all over him. It ain't the kind of thing that would make him exactly respectful. He's probably used to takin' what he wants and throwin' it away when he don't care about it anymore."

  "You don't know that for sure," Gina protested lamely.

  "You have to admit he isn't a 'please-and-thank-you' man." Gina didn't respond to that observation. More pipe smoke filled the air as her grandfather paused before continuing. "There's another thing. He'll be leavin' soon. Chances are he won't be comin' back this way, maybe never."

  "What are you trying to say, grandfather?" she demanded stiffly, forsaking her more affectionate term of address at his calm but disheartening reasoning. "Are you trying to tell me I shouldn't see him again?"

  "No," he drawled slowly. "I ain't a-tellin' you what to do nor what not to do. I just don't want you to go gettin' carried away by somethin' that probably don't have a snowball's chance of amountin' to anything."

  "Yes, gramps," Gina submitted.

  But his words only filled her with a sense of desperation. She simply had to see Rhyder. Everything would be all right if only she could see him again. Then her grandfather's warnings would prove empty.

  It wasn't until the following day that she was able to see him. He was on the deck of his boat polishing the brass fittings when she approached. At the sound of her footsteps on the wooden dock, he glanced up, nodded, and returned his attention to his work.

  "Hello, Gina," Rhyder greeted her smoothly.

  "Hi. You're working hard, I see," she returned.

  "Trying to." He smiled at her briefly, but continued with his task.

  "I heard Pete had to fly home yesterday," Gina said.

  "That's right." Rhyder straightened. "His sister was in a serious automobile accident."

  "Was she hurt very badly?"

  "Not as badly as they thought at first," he answered, glancing at the gold watch on his wrist. "He phoned me last night to let me know."

  "Is he coming back?" she inquired, trying to conceal how deeply interested she was in his answer.

  His mouth tightened. "Unless Jill, his sister, develops complications, he'll be back at the end of the week."

  "You're on your own until then, huh?" She smiled with difficulty, crossing her fingers that he might say something about spending time with her.

  Rhyder shrugged and turned away. "I don't mind."

  She bit into her lip, nibbling briefly at it's softness. "If you get tired of your own cooking, you can come have supper with gramps and me one night," she offered tentatively.

  "Maybe." But he made it sound as if it were unlikely he would take her up on the invitation.

  "Would you like some help polishing the brass?"

  "I can manage."

  The corners of her mouth sagged downward in bitter disappointment. Rhyder couldn't have made it plainer that he didn't want her around. The ocean green of her eyes became murky with despair, the thick fringe of her long lashes adding to their troubled darkness. She reached inside herself to extract a measure of pride.

  "I won't keep you from your work, then," she declared, half-turned to leave.

  There was a half-smothered oath from Rhyder, then, "Gina!" which drew her resentful glance. "If you want to make yourself useful, you can fix some coffee," he stated. Immediately a savage grimness entered his expression as if he was angry with himself for making the suggestion.

  Gina hesitated, stiffly aware that he was regretting his offer. She wouldn't be indulged, like a child. "You're very self-sufficient, Rhyder. I'm sure you can fix it yourself."

  His look hardened. "I asked you." He turned his back to her and resumed his polishing.

  He wasn't the type to beg her. The decision was hers and she would be a fool to pass up the chance for his company. There might not be another. Swallowing her pride, Gina stepped aboard.

  Rhyder didn't turn around to look at her as he said, "You know where everything is. Bring it on deck when it's ready."

  Bitterness welled inside her. Sure, Gina thought resentfully as she stiffly descended the steps to the galley, bring it on deck where they would be in full view of everyone at the harbor. Instead of one chaperon, Pete, they would have a dozen or more.

  She obeyed his edict and dutifully carried the mugs on deck when the coffee was done. Gina had half expected Rhyder to continue his work and ignore her. It was a pleasant surprise when he set down his polishing rag to take the coffee.

  While it cooled to a drinkable temperature, they talked about sailing, the coast of Maine, the weather, and various other inconsequential things. His air of friendliness enveloped Gina in a warm feeling of pleasure. All her earlier resentment was gone.

  "It's going to be a warm night tonight," Rhyder commented.

  She gazed skyward, noting the high cirrus clouds moving in. Mare's tails, she thought, meant rain tomorrow, but she didn't say that.

  "Yes," she agreed with his remark, redirecting her gaze to his strong, carved profile. "It will be a perfect night for a moonlight swim."

  His gaze sliced to her, then shifted to his brown mug. There was a subtle change in his manner. "It probably will be," he conceded noncommittally.

  "Are you doing anything special tonight?" Gina asked boldly.

  "No, nothing special." There was a visible hardness to the line of his jaw.

  "Well?" Gina tipped her head to one side in a flash of impatience. "Do I have to ask you to take me on a moonlight swim?"

  "Gina," Rhyder began, breathing in her name with vague irritation, "why don't you invite some nice boy your own age? Someone who'll stroll along the beach with you and hold your hand, maybe steal a kiss or two while he shows you the stars. What you want is a harmless little flirtation." He looked at her long and hard. "I'm a man, Gina; I don't play those innocent roles anymore. You should be seeing someone who doesn't want to make love to you every time he takes you in his arms."

  "Maybe that's what I want you to do," she breathed in helpless longing.

  "Don't be deliberately provocative, Gina," Rhyder ordered sharply, but the smoldering darkness of his blue eyes was involuntarily running over her curved figure, belying the adult indifference he was trying to project. "If you had any brains in that beautiful head of yours, you would avoid me like the plague," he finished grimly.

  "Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Gina murmured. Only his backhanded compliment registered in her mind.

  "You know you are." His gaze locked onto hers, almost unwillingly, as if compelled by a force he fiercely resented. "Those eyes of yours, like the emerald depths of the ocean, luring a ma
n on until…"

  He broke off in midsentence, taking a step away from her toward the railing. He stood there with his legs slightly apart, braced to the gentle roll of the boat, and gazed at the limitless stretch of ocean.

  Rhyder's words thrilled Gina to the very marrow of her being because they were so reluctantly issued and had ended the instant he realized what he was revealing.

  Confident now of her attraction, Gina moved to his side. She stood at a right angle to him. "No one has ever said anything like that to me before," she commented artlessly.

  Nothing in the carved mahogany of his features indicated he had heard her. He seemed like a statue of some mythological sun god. Gina was overwhelmed by an urge to touch him and make sure he was flesh and blood, not some figment of her imagination.

  This compulsion carried her hand to his sun-browned arm. The muscles contracted at the touch of her fingers, rippling in reaction. His head jerked downward to stare at the hand lightly resting on his arm. Finally his gaze lifted to her face.

  An impenetrable mask covered his features, but the blazing passion in his eyes jolted through her. Rhyder turned slowly to face her and Gina's hand dropped to her side. He towered above her, vitally masculine, so close that she had to tip her head back to see his face. Scant inches separated their bodies, yet neither of them attempted to bridge the short distance.

  A wild pagan song was drumming through her pulse. Flames of passion engulfed her, licking her nerve ends until her skin burned. He was seducing her, making love to her in his mind. And the spiritual union was as real to Gina as it would have been if her flesh had actually experienced his possession.

  When the soundless music playing between them rose to a crescendo, they strained toward each other without breaking the invisible barrier of inches. Rhyder seemed to strive for control.

  "Gina," His voice was low and charged by the emotion-packed minutes. "Can you read my mind, too?"

  "Yes," she answered weakly.

  The spell that gripped them was broken by the long breath Rhyder exhaled, a sound of angry exasperation. He widened the distance between them, an expressionless mask stealing over his face.