Tempestuous/Restless Heart

by Tami Hoag

  She quirked a brow at him. “I ought to roll you right out to the unemployment line.”

  “We’d both have a lot more fun if you’d roll me to your bedroom,” he said, bending down to nip at her earlobe. “We can both do some real rollin’ then, oui?”

  Danielle’s head swam a little at the images that sprang to mind. He was right. Why was she fighting it? She should have been jumping at the chance to have a fling with an incredibly handsome young stud before she was too old and decrepit to enjoy it. Where was the harm? They would be together for a matter of days. What could possibly go wrong in so short a time?

  Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind she knew the something that could go very wrong. She could fall in love with him. But in her current state of mind she dismissed the possibility. She was a Hamilton; relationships never lasted for her. She knew better than to let her heart get too involved. They would enjoy each other, then go their separate ways with fond memories.

  Remy knew the instant she decided in his favor. He felt the wall of her resistance crumble. She stopped dancing and looked up at him, her gray eyes clear and earnest in the pale light of the fading moon. He went still and looked down at her, his heart pounding in his chest, suddenly aware of how much this meant to him. He wanted to take away the tension that had painted dark crescents beneath her eyes. He wanted to show her with his body how desirable she was. He wanted to love all the loneliness out of her restless heart and fill it up with passion.

  Without a word he took her hand and led her from the room, stopping only to reassure Danielle that the baby was sleeping peacefully. Sliding an arm around her waist, he guided Danielle down the hall to her room. Her step faltered a bit as he bypassed the bed, but she followed him willingly into the spacious bath where moonlight coming through the window gave the white tile a silver glow.

  He didn’t turn on a light but went to the long marble vanity and lit the three fat fragrant candles that sat on one end. Their light reflected in the mirror and created a lush pool of amber that extended to the shower stall, which was walled by frosted glass on two sides.

  Danielle’s knees trembled and her insides turned warm and syrupy at the memory of the day they had met when she had first pictured them together under the hot spray of the shower. The reality was at hand. Remy adjusted the faucets in the stall and by the time he turned toward her steam was already beginning to rise, lending their surroundings an ethereal, mystical quality.

  He faced her and slowly shrugged the white shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the tile floor. Danielle didn’t try to resist the urge to touch him. She raised her hands to his chest and splayed her fingers wide as if to touch as much of him in one stroke as possible. His nostrils flared as she drew her fingertips downward, tracing every ridge and valley of muscle, skimming his rib cage and catching in the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as she teased him, slowly dragging her fingers along just inside his pants to the button. Holding his gaze, she released the metal disk from the buttonhole and traced the newly revealed skin. As she lowered his zipper, he hooked his thumbs in the waist of both jeans and briefs and was out of them in two smooth steps.

  He stood back then a little, letting Danielle look her fill. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him magnificently naked in the flickering candlelight. He looked a little primitive and all male, his body a solid block of muscle sculpted by nature into a masterpiece—upper body a powerful wedge, hips trim, thighs sturdy, and at the juncture of those thighs thickening evidence of his desire for her. He grew hard as she watched and the word “magnificent” suddenly took on a whole new meaning for her.

  He was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She made that judgment with the objectivity of an artist. The woman in her agreed wholeheartedly. The woman in her longed to touch, to taste, to experience. She stepped forward. He stepped back, shaking his dark head, a lazy smile carving out the dimple in his cheek.

  “Your turn, angel,” he murmured. “I like to look too.”

  Danielle’s fingers trembled as she fumbled with the fastening of her shorts. Every insecurity she had about her age came rushing to the surface, but there was no turning back now. She hesitated, glancing up at Remy with a narrow-eyed glare.

  “One crack about cellulite and you’re a dead man.”

  Remy’s heart melted. If the lady had any idea how much he already loved her, she’d have run like hell. Danielle wasn’t ready to hear professions of love. He knew without asking that she thought this would be a short-term affair. He had every intention of proving her wrong, but no intention of tipping his hand at this point.

  He moved closer and reached out to cover her hands with his own. Pushing downward, he whispered, “You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, how hot you make me.” The shorts dropped to the floor. “How I’ve dreamed every night about seein’ you naked, about touchin’ you.” He released her right hand and touched her through her panties, sliding his fingers slowly between her legs and rubbing the silk against the tender flesh that was already hot and moist. His voice dropped another rough note. “About havin’ you touch me.”

  Still massaging her with one hand, he drew her hand to his erection and hissed through his teeth as her cool fingers closed around him. His chest rose and fell like bellows as she explored him, stroking the rigid length of him, fingering the velvety tip.

  “Oh, Remy,” she whispered, her breath shuddering out of her. She felt vaguely faint at the prospect of joining with him. She felt too dizzy to finish undressing herself and decided instead to indulge one of her own fantasies. Looking up at him, her eyes hooded with passion she murmured. “Take off my blouse.”

  Remy thanked heaven Danielle was wearing a T-shirt and nothing with buttons, because he would have died of frustration getting her out of it. His hands shook violently as he pulled the top up and over her head and flung it aside. All thought of just looking was vaporized as his hungry gaze swept over her body. Her breasts were high and firm, small enough that she could get away without wearing a bra, full enough to make a man’s hands itch to touch them—which Remy did not hesitate to do.

  He cupped her breasts, one in each hand, and brushed his thumbs over her dark nipples, wringing a gasp from her. The gasp turned to a groan as he quickly bent his head and took first one rigid peak and then the other into his mouth for a hard sucking kiss. His hands swept down over her then, as he returned his mouth hungrily to hers. Tongues dueled and teeth clashed and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and jerked them down, pulling her up and against him in his next move, his fingers biting into the soft flesh of her buttocks.

  Danielle moaned at the feel of his maleness, hard and hot between them, pressing urgently into the smoothness of her belly as his tongue thrust aggressively into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around the small of his back and slid her hands down over the deliciously rounded swell of his buttocks, squeezing and kneading. Her right knee pulled upward as they kissed and rubbed sensuously against the outer part of his thigh, climbing higher with each stroke of his tongue.

  He carried her into the shower, breaking their kiss only long enough to open the glass door to the stall. Danielle wasn’t at all sure the steam rising around them wasn’t generated by their passion rather than the hot water raining down out of the shower-head. She’d never felt so consumed by the inner flames of desire as she did now. And Remy made his feelings more than clear. He wanted her with an intensity that glittered fiercely in his eyes. All the teasing, the mischief, was gone now, replaced by a rapacious desire that made Danielle’s blood sing in her veins.

  The water pounded down over them, slicking their skin, adding to the heat. Droplets caught in Remy’s chest hair and Danielle collected them with her tongue. He stood for the torture until she flicked a drop off one flat nipple. Then a growl rumbled low in his throat and he hauled her up against him for another kiss.

  Backing her into a wall covered in smooth tile, he lifted her with
a hand on the back of each thigh, tilting her hips toward him. Pulling her legs around his hips, he moaned as he sank into the tight hot pocket of her womanhood. His breath caught in his throat and he whispered to her, urgent words, words of praise, words of sex in a language she didn’t speak. The message was plain enough, and Danielle responded by moving against him.

  It was wonderful, primal, perfect, she thought. She rejoiced at the feel of him moving inside her and against her, pinning her to the tile. He made love with earthy honesty, holding nothing back. He made her feel more alive than she’d felt in a long, long time. She wanted to tell him so, but there didn’t seem to be enough breath in her lungs. Besides, her mouth seemed perfectly happy fused to his, and her brain had other things to think about—like the incredible sensation that was building and building in the pit of her belly. She concentrated on the feeling of it growing and growing with Remy’s every thrust, until it burst and she was caught up in the wild whirlwind of the explosion.

  She clung to Remy’s broad shoulders as he, too, surrendered to a shuddering climax. In the end they were both gasping for breath. Danielle managed a weary smile and coughed.

  “I’m drowning,” she mumbled.

  “Oh… me, too, chère. That was incredible.”

  “No. I mean—” She coughed again. “I’m really drowning.”

  “Huh?” He raised his head from her shoulder and his eyes widened as he realized the spray of the shower was hitting her full force in the face. “Oh, jeeze. I’m sorry, darlin’.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. He slid out of her but held her close still. They leaned against each other as if for support. Danielle wound her arms around his waist. “What a way to go.”

  Remy picked up the thick bar of imported soap and began running it up and down her back, smiling as she arched against his touch like a cat. His hands brushed the suds down over her hips to her delightfully rounded derriere and he shook his head slightly at her insecurity about her looks. She had a body a lot of younger women would have wanted. A lot of men, too, he thought, a surge of jealousy burning through him. Danielle was a very desirable woman. It was his job to prove that to her tonight.

  Stepping back, he brought his hands around to the front of her and began the process all over again, slicking bubbles over her breasts, her belly. He lowered his head and kissed her as he teased her mercilessly with the bar of soap, until she was gasping for mercy. Then she managed to wrest the bar away from him and set off to do a little teasing of her own.

  They made love again under the spray, then dried each other with thick towels. Remy put the candles out and ushered Danielle from the room, turning on a small table lamp as they returned to her bedroom.

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked quietly, feeling suddenly uncertain again. It had been a long time since she’d shared a bed. It had been forever since she’d wanted to as badly as she did now.

  He turned her by her shoulders and looked into her eyes, reading secrets in their pewter depths that she couldn’t hide from him now, so close after they had shared the ultimate physical intimacy. Love and protectiveness swelled in his heart. He caught her chin in his hand and gave her a fierce, sexy look. “You try to send me away, sugar.”

  One corner of her mouth tilted up in a shadow of a familiar, wry smile. “I’d rather do the opposite. Wouldn’t you?”

  Remy chuckled and tumbled her onto the bed, rolling them over until he was on top and he held Danielle’s arms pressed to the mattress above her head. Dark eyes glittering, he leaned down and flicked his tongue across her nipple.

  “Oh… absolutely, darlin’. Absolutely.”

  ten

  “FIVE BEAUVAIS TURNED LOOSE ON AN UNSUSPECTING public with only two adults to supervise,” Danielle murmured, shuddering involuntarily.

  She stood on the side veranda in a black tank top and khaki walking shorts, staring apprehensively at the loaded minivan in the driveway. The older children had already settled into the vehicle after a spirited battle for choice seats. Dahlia was sitting on the far side in the backseat, only her silhouette visible due to the shade of an enormous magnolia tree and the shadow cast by the wide brim of her straw hat. Danielle thought she was being a little too unobtrusive and made a mental note to check for makeup before they pulled out. Ambrose sat at the opposite window wearing a pirate eye patch and a bandana tied around his head. Tinks and Jeremy had commandeered the seats in the far back of the vehicle. At the present moment, however, Jeremy was attempting to lower Tinks to the pavement by her ankles through the opened back window.

  “Jeremy, haul your sister back inside and behave yourself!” Remy called calmly, stepping out the door with Eudora on one arm. On the other hung an umbrella stroller, its handles hooked around his forearm. Over his shoulder was slung a blindingly pink diaper bag. The picture he presented was incongruous and adorable.

  “I don’t know about this, Remy.” Danielle shot him a glance. “Are you sure we can do it?”

  Remy’s gaze immediately turned hotter than the Louisiana summer. “I suppose we could call off this little field trip, lock ourselves in your room, and spend the day findin’ out.” His eyelashes swept down like black lace fans. His voice was like liquid smoke. “But after last night, I don’t know how you can ask.”

  Danielle blushed to the roots of her hair. “That’s not what I meant!”

  He clucked his tongue in reproach. “You gotta stop leadin’ me on this way, Danielle.”

  “Leading you on?” Danielle sputtered, briefly considering smacking him with her camera bag. “I ought to lead you to the unemployment line.”

  “But you need me,” he singsonged.

  She pretended a scowl. “I refuse to answer that on the grounds that you will turn it into a sexual innuendo.”

  “Sexual innuendo.” He growled and leaned toward her, his eyelids drooping lazily. “I love the way you say that. It sounds so kinky. Will you whisper it in my ear?”

  “I’ll box your ear.” Danielle fought the giggles that threatened and snatched the baby away from him. “You should be ashamed, saying things like that in front of an impressionable child.”

  She tried to straighten the impossibly crooked yellow bow she had tied in a strand of Eudora’s red hair. The baby squealed a protest and sprayed the front of Danielle’s blouse with spittle.

  “That’ll be an interesting defense mechanism when she’s old enough to date,” Danielle said, unaffected. She was in too good a mood to let a little saliva ruin her day. She snatched a towel out of a pouch on the diaper bag and repaired the damage as best she could.

  Butler came to the door to see them off. He stooped over and hung onto the brass doorknob for support, going through his repertoire of pained faces. “I’m sorry I canna go with ye, lass,” he said, looking properly contrite.

  “Me too.” Danielle suspiciously eyed the plaid golf slacks peeking out beneath the hem of his robe. “You know, Butler, the walk might do you good.”

  “Oh, no,” Remy blurted out. “Rest and relaxation.” He gave her an annoyed glance and started for the van. “The man oughta know his own back, Danielle.”

  “Wise, wise,” Butler chanted, nodding sagely, gazing off after Remy with approval. “And a braw handsome lad too. Och, a lass could do worse.”

  Danielle gave him a strange look. “Stay out of the sun, Butler. You’re not used to all this heat. I think it’s affecting you.”

  They loaded the baby into her car seat, then settled in themselves, Remy behind the wheel. Dahlia was sent back to the house to remove the half-pound of makeup she had worn. Ambrose waited until they were to the end of the driveway to decide he had to go to the bathroom. They had to pull over when Jeremy and Tinks fell on each other in mortal combat over who could spit the farthest. But eventually they made it to the zoo.

  The day was hot and clear, the butter-yellow sunshine filtering down through the haze of humidity to which Danielle was gradually becoming accustomed. It was the heart of summer in the Deep Sout
h, hot, sultry, semitropical. If her crisp cotton shorts were wilted before they made it through the entry gate, then everyone else around her was wilted too. Except Remy. He didn’t look wilted, she thought as she took in his outfit of cuffed black walking shorts that molded his fabulous fanny and a loose white shirt that accented his dark skin. He looked wonderful… touchable … good enough to eat.

  He caught her looking and sent her a secret smile. Danielle felt the now familiar zip of electricity racing through her to curl her toes inside her canvas sneakers. She smiled back, feeling like a giddy teenager with her first big crush on the football captain.

  They had made love long into the night, Remy tapping a well of sexuality in her she hadn’t known existed. He had slept in her bed till dawn, then crept back to his own room before the children woke. One night in Remy’s arms had left her feeling full of life’s joy and ready to take on any challenge—even supervising her nieces and nephews at the zoo. The quiet talk she and Remy had shared, both in the nursery and later in bed, had soothed her fears about her abilities to handle and relate to children. He had told her to relax and not worry so much about goofing up on little things, and she had decided to take his advice. He was the expert, after all. Besides, trying a fresh approach was certainly better than being miserable with the status quo.

  They strolled the paths together at Remy’s stern insistence. Dahlia led the way, staying just enough in front of them so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed by being with “kids.” Jeremy and Tinks came next. Jeremy in a camouflage cap, Tinks in a plastic pith helmet. Both of them with their eyes peeled for misadventure. Remy pushed Eudora in the stroller. Danielle held hands with Ambrose, who had added a blue Audubon Zoo visor to his pirate getup.

  Also there at Remy’s insistence was Danielle’s trusty Nikon, hanging around her neck like an amulet. He encouraged her to take pictures of everything and, more importantly, everyone. And for the first time in a year she broke her self-imposed ban on photographing people. She photographed the children, the animals, the zookeepers, men in Bermuda shorts and black socks, women who had attempted to squeeze winter-fat bodies into summer spandex outfits. It was like breaking a fast. She started slowly, then made a glutton of herself. By lunchtime she had gone through five rolls of film.