by Judi Lind
“Yeah, yeah…” He swiped at the air, dismissing her teasing remarks. “So let’s talk about you for a while, Princess. How did a beautiful señorita from the Coast become a world-renowned prima ballerina?”
“I don’t know about the ’world-renowned’ part, but mostly it was just pure hard work.”
“I’ll bet. You must’ve paid some heavy dues.”
“Not just me. My mother, especially. When my dad died, we didn’t have much money, so Mom worked two, sometimes three jobs to take care of us. She was determined that we wouldn’t run the streets, wouldn’t get sucked into the gang influence, so she kept shoving us into after-school recreation programs.”
“Smart woman,” Storm said.
“One day some dancers from a visiting company came to our school and performed for us. They took my breath away. Dancing on air, wearing glamorous costumes, looking like fairy princesses. That night I ran home and begged my mother for ballet lessons. We couldn’t afford it, of course, but I didn’t really understand that at the time. So I kept bugging her.”
Storm laughed and finished his chardonnay. “And finally wore her down.”
“You guessed it. She started taking in laundry to pay for my lessons. Later, I got some help from different Hispanic organizations and even won a couple scholarships. But it was never enough to pay for everything, so my mom continued to work day and night, as well as doing other people’s laundry.”
“She sounds like a wonderful woman. I’d like to meet her someday.”
A warm, glowing smile softened Elisa’s face. “She’d like that. She was always so proud of me. When I had my first professional performance, she went up and down the street telling everybody that her daughter, her chica, was going to be a big star. I had a dream, you know, that I could pay her back someday. Buy her a fine home. Hire someone else to do her laundry.”
“And you were well on your way to accomplishing that when you had…the accident.”
Tears welled up in Elisa’s eyes, and she knuckled them away in agitation. “Now I’ll never be able to repay my mother.”
Storm reached up and caressed her forearm. “In her eyes, I’m sure you already have.”
“I feel so robbed, so cheated. It’s not just losing my career, or my full mobility, or even my memory. But I lost the power to earn the kind of money I needed to buy that home for my mom.”
He eased up onto the sofa beside her and drew her into his arms. “Something else will come along. Trust in yourself. You were smart enough, strong enough and determined enough to claw your way to the top of the dancing game. You can accomplish anything you set your mind to.”
She was quiet, and he hoped she was absorbing his words. With a face, mind, body and determination like hers, she could rule the world.
He quietly got up and checked the fire. Her eyes followed him back to the sofa. Those ebony-dark, exotic, entrancing eyes. “How’s your foot?” he whispered, trying to remember exactly what vow he’d made to himself that afternoon. Something about not taking advantage…
Elisa shrugged. “I think it’s numb. This is the first time since the accident that I’ve had more than one glass of wine.”
Oh, great. Not only did he have his stupid vow to contend with, now she was pleading intoxication, and he’d never sunk so low as to seduce a woman in her cups.
If only she didn’t look so lovely, so beguiling. She’d changed into a flimsy summery dress that skimmed her hips and floated when she walked. The hem normally fell just below the knee, but now it was hiked up onto her thigh, exposing her slim, silky legs to his appreciative view.
Scrupulously keeping his hands from touching her alluring limbs, he carefully unwrapped the makeshift binding around her ankle. Miriam Danziger’s sheet supply must be precariously low by now, he thought inconsequentially.
The swelling had gone down considerably. By morning she’d be good as ever.
His eyes trailed up her leg again, lingering on the dark and forbidden area at the top of her thighs. A guilty thrill shot through him, until he looked up and saw her watching him. Her eyes were issuing an invitation, but he had to refuse.
“’Leese, you know that I…I would like to…more than anything in the world. But it’s unethical for a doctor to, um, you know, with a patient.”
“I’m not your patient, Doctor.”
“Not in the strictest sense of the word. Still, I know how vulnerable you are, and—”
“Right now I’m about as vulnerable as a she-lion. I’m a big girl, Storm. I’m not asking for any commitments.”
“That’s good! See, because I’m not ready for another relationship…What I mean is—” Tugging his fingers through his unruly hair, he floundered, trying to find the words that would convince her that he wanted her, really wanted her, but just couldn’t…
“Storm?”
“Mmm?”
She wiggled her index finger. “You think too much. Shut up and come here.”
“There?” Now that was a direct order if he’d ever heard one. All his vows, all his intentions, disappeared like morning fog as he moved upward, anxious to do his lady’s bidding.
Her slow, languid smile drew him to her lips. Heat fanned through his groin as he stretched out on the sofa facing her. His shoulders touched hers, his chest was seared by the delectable mounds of her breasts. Her soft place pillowed where he was hard.
Elisa’s hands wrapped around his neck, and she moaned when his tentative fingers sought and cupped her breast. Her nipple perked beneath his touch, but he had to feel more, closer. Pulling back, he unbuttoned the front of her sundress. Arching slowly, provocatively, she helped him slide the dress over her hips.
She had a beautiful body, as he’d known she would, but it was the beauty of her spirit and her soul that held him spellbound.
A moment later, her bra and panties were disposed of and she lay there, a glorious goddess, and it was his pleasure to serve her. He slid to the floor, and lowered his head over her tempting breasts. His tongue flicked and suckled until she squirmed and moaned with passion.
He’d never known a woman like Elisa Montoya. A woman who could thrill him, challenge him, frustrate him and cherish him, all within the space of a few moments. If only he could stretch this night into forever. But it was too late for happily-ever-afters. For Storm, there was only tonight.
Vowing to give her enough sensual bliss to last a lifetime, he happily set about pleasuring her. His mouth trailed downward, over the smooth, exquisitely sensitive flesh just above her waist. Lower, darting and probing in the delicious area around her navel. “Oh, Storm, please. I’m ready.”
“Not yet,” he whispered. “There’s lots more of you I haven’t kissed yet. Haven’t loved yet.”
A shudder rippled down her body, urging him to continue his journey. He rained flicking, moist caresses down her stomach until he found the sweet, dark mound at the crux of her thighs. He raised slightly, placing his hands on her hips until he tilted her toward him. She was like a fabulous feast, and he wanted to savor each and every bit of her.
The heat of her fingers singed his back, massaging his taut muscles. “You have to stop,” she whispered, her hips writhing beneath his hands. “I can’t stand any more.”
He ran one hand up the flat of her stomach, along the silky-hard tip of her breast, up her throat until he found her mouth. Tracing the shape of her slightly pouty, sultry lips, he lowered his head and drank in the sweet nectar of her pulsing femininity. “Oh!” she cried aloud, her fingers tangling through his hair, urging him on. Her mouth opened, and she took his finger between her lips, suckling him as he was her.
At last he drew away, and kissed her inner thigh. “I think we’d be more comfortable if we finished this in the bedroom,” he murmured.
“You’re the doctor,” she whispered in a ragged, breathless voice.
Storm once more scooped her into his arms, but this time there was no danger. Only a mutual yearning. A need that had to be filled.
He’d never had a woman like Elisa. Wild. Wanton. As giving in her lovemaking as she was in every other aspect of her life. Although he would have called himself an experienced lover before tonight, he knew now that he’d never loved a woman before. Or been loved so well.
When they reached the bedroom, he gently lowered her onto the bed. The room was dark, with only the moonlight illuminating his solid, hard body as he stripped off his clothes. She reached out and touched the firm, conditioned muscles of his thigh. He was like a living statue, with sinews taut and sculpted. Her searching fingers found the strong evidence of his arousal, and she stroked him, his passion fueling her own.
She could feel his muscles tense as he gasped with pleasure. After a while, he eased into the bed and lowered his body to cover hers. She looked into his eyes—they were glittering gemstones in the moonlight—and was filled with a sense of completeness. No matter what tomorrow brought, if she never had another night with him, Elisa knew she’d spent her entire life waiting for this moment.
Closing her eyes, she begged him to take her away, away from fear, away from solitude, away from the world.
Storm took her. And she cried aloud as waves of pleasure shuddered through her body.
Chapter Sixteen
Elisa rolled over and stretched, feeling fuzzy and contented. She reached out and touched Storm’s pillow. His empty pillow. Sitting up, she shoved her rumpled mass of jet hair out of her eyes and frowned. Then smiled when she heard Storm moving around in the front of the cabin.
Last night had been incredible. An exhilarating, sensuous feast that left them hungry for seconds. And thirds. This morning she felt sated, completely filled with his essence, as if they had been melted down and reformed into a single being. She blinked and sucked in her lip, startled by her giddy thoughts. She sounded dangerously like a woman in love.
Her heart thumped at the word. The deep, pervasive sense of completeness soaking into her bones felt the way she’d always imagined deep, unwavering love would feel. But she couldn’t fall in love! Not now, and not with him. Her life was in a terrible upheaval, and Storm lived this hermit’s existence, and…and he hadn’t said a word about love last night.
Neither of them had ever spoken of their feelings. They’d spoken only of the sexual fascination that had beguiled them from the moment he towed her out of the ocean. They’d both also made it perfectly clear that they weren’t looking for any kind of commitment. Only a night’s respite from the loneliness that stalked them both for so long.
No promises, no regrets. Those were the rules they’d played by, and she couldn’t change them now, at the end of the game.
If she strolled out of the bedroom, murmuring sweet nothings and love talk, Storm would run for the beach and swim to the mainland. He’d also be embarrassed, appalled and full of pity. And she’d rather die than endure his pity.
No, she had to keep up the charade, never let him glimpse her true feelings. Pretend last night had been sinfully delicious and stress-relieving. And nothing more.
The pleasure she found in his arms had momentarily shut out the horror. At least for a while. And for that, Elisa was grateful.
Sliding out of bed, she visited the bathroom and slipped into her clothes. Pasting a casual smile on her face, she slowly ambled down the hall.
He was in the kitchen, and the fragrant aroma of coffee and bacon wafted out to greet her. She suddenly realized she was famished. Why not? She’d certainly worked up an appetite during the night.
“Morning,” she called cheerily as she reached for a mug.
Storm grinned over his shoulder. “Hi yourself, Sleeping Beauty. Get enough?”
“Sleep, I presume you mean,” she asked bluntly, taking a sip of the steaming brew. His offhand, slightly raunchy comment served to solidify her theory. He saw last night as a thoroughly delightful romp between two consenting adults. This morning, their roles were to be those of casual lovers. So be it.
He turned off the burner and turned around. Resting his rump against the countertop, he frowned. “Everything okay? Thought I detected a note of…sarcasm. Even anger.”
Shaking her head, she dragged out a chair. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m always a little edgy when I first wake up—no big deal.”
Now it was his turn to delve for an ulterior message in her careless remark. What did she consider to be “no big deal”? Her moodiness in the morning, or the very special night that they’d shared? Because he considered last night a very big deal. A life-altering experience.
He’d hoped they could talk openly this morning. See where they wanted to take this fragile new gift. Storm had existed for the past two years in a vault of guilt and broken dreams. He’d tried to bury his heart with Karen. But Elisa had saved him from that cold, dark existence.
He had planned to lay his feelings out in the open for her to accept or reject as she would. But now, with tension radiating from her like sonar waves, he decided to bide his time.
Turning back to the propane stove, he cracked four eggs into the skillet. Maybe her odd mood had nothing to do with him, with the perfect union they’d found last night. She couldn’t know that his greedy masculine ego needed to know that she, too, considered last night a special event. Beyond the scope of merely scratching a sexual itch.
Elisa’s level, matter-of-fact tone broke into his thoughts. “Do you think it’s safe to go back to our—I mean, my cabin?”
Suddenly he understood. The specter of the killer had taken center stage again. If he’d been thinking more about the threat to her life than about his own fragile ego, he would have realized the fear would attack her again this morning.
He had to believe that her detached mood wasn’t because of him, because of her disappointment in him. “Taking a look at the cabin is a good idea. Maybe we’ll find something in Heather’s things that will help identify her partner. After we eat. I don’t know why, but I woke up with a raging appetite.”
“Me too,” Elisa said shyly.
Not wanting to read too much into her comment, he dished up a steaming plate of bacon, eggs and hash browns and set it in front of her.
“You expect me to eat all that? I don’t eat that much for breakfast in a full week.”
Storm rubbed an imaginary bruise on his side. “And that’s why your bones almost did me serious damage last night. Eat.”
She managed to pack down nearly a third of the portion he’d given her before she shoved the plate aside and patted her tummy. “I’m going to explode if I eat another bite. If I hang around you very long, I’m going to end up fat.”
He wiped up a bit of egg yolk with a slice of bread. “As long as you’re healthy, who cares if you’re fat? Although the very idea boggles the imagination.”
She stood and started carrying the plates to the sink. “What should I do about hot water?”
He wiped his mouth and stepped behind her. “Let’s leave them till later. I’ll have to boil some water.”
Waving off her dire warning about the ravages of dried egg on china plates, he grabbed his keys. “Let’s go check out your cabin. Just in case Heather left any incriminating bits of information lying around.”
Although he seriously doubted that the redhead had left a diary detailing her part in Jay’s death, along with the name of her compatriot and their motivation. Lucky breaks like that only happened in the movies.
TWO HOURS LATER, they’d found nothing to disprove his theory. They spent the first hour pulling the plywood coverings off the windows so that they’d have enough light for their search. Their neighbor, Brian McPherson, must have nailed them up after he finished his own place. They would have to go next door and thank him when they were finished.
Storm wondered what Elisa was feeling when they finally breached the sanctum of Heather’s bedroom. At first she resisted opening drawers and closets, as if prying into her former friend’s belongings were more reprehensible than the part she’d played in her death.
With a little nudging, she
gave in and inspected the dresser while Storm tackled the closet. They quickly discovered that Heather’s personal effects were unbelievably impersonal. Clothes, makeup, a couple of glitzy novels and a box full of beauty magazines.
They rooted under the bed, mattress and dresser. Elisa tore apart the bathroom while Storm scoured the attic. Not a letter, photograph or even a bill turned up. At last they gave up and returned to the main living area.
Completely stymied, they stood in the middle of the room, facing each other. She had a small, dark smudge on her chin, and he leaned over to wipe it away with his thumb. Instinctively she jerked away, as if to allow his touch would breach some inner bulwark. Puzzled and disheartened, he marveled at the change in her demeanor since last night.
“What do we do now?” she asked, her arms folded defensively across her breasts.
Storm’s hand fell to his side. What he wanted to do was talk this out, but his wounded feelings weren’t the highest priority right now. A killer had to be unveiled before he got to Elisa again.
Dragging his fingers through his hair, he clasped his hands behind his neck. “I suppose we should go back to the hotel and start asking questions. If our culprit’s there, maybe he’ll slip up.”
Elisa hesitated. Storm knew she was dreading facing Carey Howard again. Although she’d acted in self-defense, the lovestruck man was filled with rage at his loss. It was easier to take his anger out on Elisa than to face the truth about the woman he’d cared for.
“I can’t think of anything better,” she admitted as they headed out the door.
Brian McPherson was standing on his porch, as if waiting for them. Elisa waved as they trudged across the sandy lot.
“How’s the arm, McPherson?” Storm called as they approached the big man’s porch.
He twisted his forearm dismissively. “Good as new. Thanks, Doc. So what’re you folks up to this fine mornin’?”
“Just checking things over,” Elisa replied. “Thanks for finishing boarding up the place, Brian. That was very thoughtful of you, although I don’t know how you managed it by yourself.”