She didn’t feel sleepy any longer. Standing in the shadowed hallway beside the man she’d come to know better than any man in her life, she felt buoyant, energy racing through her veins as if there were more to do and the night was young. The night was young, actually, but she had no right to feel this way.
Seth hesitated, as if the same mood had struck him. He offered a tentative smile. “It’s over, isn’t it? That was the crisis? He’ll recover now?”
She grinned back. “For the moment. He might break his leg bouncing off the bed in the morning, but for right now, for right this minute, everything is just fine. He’s breathing normally. His temperature is falling. It’s over. I told you, kids recuperate quickly.”
Seth closed his eyes briefly and a wide smile of joy and relief spread across his narrow face. “Thank God.” His eyes sprung, open again, and he beamed down at her. “Do we dare share a drink?”
And for that moment in time, it seemed the perfect thing to do. A celebration of life, an acknowledgment of a job well done, a breaking of bread and sharing of wine in thanksgiving.
She nodded, and he led the way down the hall.
“I keep wine in here, a kind of test, I guess,” he said diffidently, throwing open the door to his bedroom. “I’ve never felt tempted before, but tonight...”
She should have thought twice about crossing the threshold, but he had a suite of rooms larger than her own. Inside, there was nothing more than an innocuous sofa and a few chairs in front of a stone fireplace, and the usual bank of windows overlooking still another view of the mountains and valley. No etchings, no artwork, no framed pictures. He may as well not have lived there.
Seth crossed the room to an oak cabinet, unlocked the door, and removed a bottle and some glasses. Maybe he kept all his secrets locked behind closed doors.
“I don’t celebrate very often,” he apologized, wiping out the glasses with a paper napkin. “I’m always afraid of celebrating too soon.”
“And then the moment passes and it’s too late for celebrating. Or there’s no one to celebrate with.” Pippa could empathize. She’d never thought herself lonely until she’d met this man, and the vacuum of his life resonated with an emptiness in hers.
She drifted toward the windows and the magnificent landscape. The house might be a mausoleum, but the views were spectacular. She could never get enough of them. She wished she had a periscope to see the ocean and the waves on the other side of those purple hills. “One celebrates the moment, not the past or the future. Celebrate right now, and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
“I like that philosophy.” He stood beside her, looking out the windows, too, as he handed her a glass. “I used to pretend that was a foreign country out there, the Himalayas sometimes. I dreamed of roaming those hills and never coming back.”
She heard the sadness in those words. She heard so many things when he spoke, things she didn’t necessarily want to hear. She heard the man he was, the boy he had been, the person he could be. And she wanted them all.
Shivering at that thought, she sipped the wine. She wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but this slid down so smooth and soft, she gasped with the pleasure of it.
He glanced at her with a smile. “Improved with age, has it? I can’t remember the last time I opened a bottle.” He sipped his own and nodded approvingly. “You’re right. Celebrations are for the moment.” He clinked his glass against hers. “To the best damned nurse in the world.”
Pippa grimaced. “I can’t drink to that. I know a hundred better ones. Let’s drink to Chad and a long and happy life.”
They both sipped, and he chuckled. “We can’t even agree on a toast. How about this one: to life and health.”
“Amen.”
They struck crystal chimes again, grinned foolishly at each other, and sipped some more.
Pippa couldn’t blame the wine, although it bubbled like champagne through her veins. She couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last and she’d never had a head for alcohol, but it wasn’t wine that kept her standing here, exchanging increasingly sillier toasts. It was the man. She’d never known a man like this one, probably never would again—probably shouldn’t want to. But she couldn’t resist him any more than if he had been Pierce Brosnan, Sean Connery, and Richard Burton all rolled into one. Seth was every fantasy she’d ever had, and even knowing the complex depths of his character, the narrow corridors of his mind that he hid in darkness, she couldn’t run away. Despite the craggy face gray and lined with worry and lack of sleep, she couldn’t resist him.
“I can’t thank you enough,” he whispered with a catch in his voice.
Before she could stop herself, she said, “Yeah, you can. Rebuild the printing plant in town. I think that should be payment enough.” She nodded solemnly, as if passing judgment.
He shot her a sharp gaze, then relaxed as he read the mischief in her eyes. “You’re having me on, as the Brits say. I’m not good at jokes.”
She snorted, unladylike. “Cutting wit, maybe, but jokes, probably not. You need to lighten up, get a life, see a circus. But I wasn’t kidding about the printing plant. They’re desperate for it down there.”
“See a circus?” Ignoring the remainder of her comment, he emptied the bottle between their glasses. “I’ve never seen one, actually. Neither has Chad. Where would we find one?”
Okay, so he wasn’t ready to listen. Pippa savored the wine and tried to watch the moonlight on the hills rather than the reflection of the man beside her. The window glass made her look more slender than she thought herself, and she admired the way they looked together, his wide-shouldered leanness next to her more feminine curves, like images on a movie screen. She really was drunk.
Noting the sudden silence, she glanced up guiltily. She’d not answered him. And he hadn’t repeated the question. He wasn’t looking at the window any longer either. He was watching her.
“I’m going to regret this,” he murmured, taking her glass and setting it on the table with his.
“This is a mistake,” Pippa agreed, not removing her gaze from the fascinating conflict of emotions struggling behind Seth’s expression.
“Mistakes were meant to be made,” he replied solemnly, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending his head toward hers.
“You made a joke,” she whispered, just before his lips touched hers.
“I’d rather make you.” The words brushed across her mouth before he captured it with his.
She opened her arms to hold him as naturally as she hugged the wind on a brilliant spring day. It was the same wild, exuberant experience, the imaginary capturing of a force of nature, the windswept tossing of all her cares and woes in pursuit of madness. He lifted her from her feet as the wind never did, swept her up so lightly and twirled her around, she forgot where and who she was or how she got there. She only knew they were celebrating life in the one manner, and in the one moment, that made sense.
The heated pressure of Seth’s mouth against hers deepened the excitement into something much darker, more powerful and explosive. Pippa clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging into solid muscle as his grip around her waist tightened, becoming at once both tentative and demanding. He asked the question without words, and she answered in the same manner. Her hand dived into his hair, and opening her mouth, she pulled him closer, savoring the wine, the man, the moment.
Life and joy surged through them like fine wine, and they celebrated the occasion with heated kisses and touches that became ever more daring, more exciting, more impossible to resist.
On the thick carpet, before the magnificent expanse of night sky, they shed their clothes in bits and pieces. Pippa arched into Seth’s exploring hand as he slid it down her side, surveying the curve of waist and hip before rising to stroke higher. She kissed the salty texture of his throat as he tried to restrain himself, but the desire tugging at her middle wouldn’t put up with his holding back. She stroked his wide chest, admired the ripple of muscles beneath her finge
rs, and slid her hands lower, pulling him closer. Seth moaned and opened his mouth over her bare breast. Overwhelmed by a primitive longing she couldn’t deny, Pippa responded out of instinct rather than thought, drawing Seth into her, reaching up for him.
Their affirmation of life took its most elemental form. She needed this reassurance that she was still an attractive woman and not an object to be beaten or cast aside, needed it as much for his sake as for hers. She sensed Seth’s desperation, his struggle for control, and reveled in it, encouraging rather than fearing the strength of his need. Here, at last, in this, he could be himself and let go, and she could have the man he hid from others.
The force with which Seth finally surrendered and drove into her cast Pippa sailing over the edge, into the moonlight like the Owl and the Pussycat, floating on gossamer wings. She wept and clung and shuddered with him, not wanting it to end, knowing it couldn’t last and could never be again, grasping as one does for that last bit of dream escaping with the morning light.
They slept briefly, curled upon the carpet and into each other, waking in a tangle of arms and legs and stumbling to the bed. They christened the bed, sinking into its softness with the power of their joining, collapsing in complete and utter exhaustion afterward, reaching out to touch and hold, even as sleep again overcame them.
***
The intercom buzzed. Through the infant monitor, Chad’s irritable complaining broadcast loud and clear, along with Lillian’s and Nana’s anxious replies.
Pippa cast a glance toward the uncurtained expanse of window, recognizing the gold on the hills as dawn, and rubbed her eyes sleepily.
Seth stirred beside her. She wouldn’t think about how long it had been since she’d had a naked man stretched out in bed beside her, his bare leg entwined with hers in an erotic embrace she hadn’t known she desired. In any case, she’d never had a naked man as beautiful as this one. He was all lean grace and sinewy muscle, even when he did no more than reach for her.
It was time for the fantasy to end. With a sigh, Pippa turned off the monitor and intercom. Let him sleep. He needed it. Exhaustion still shadowed his eyes. He hadn’t shaved in days; she had bristle burns from his beard over half her body. Let him wake gradually.
She slipped from the bed and hastily donned what clothes she could find. Lillian could hold down one little boy while she ran back to her room, showered, and changed.
Stepping from the warm cocoon of soft bed and hot man into the coolness of the morning-chilled room almost drove Pippa’s good intentions out the window. All her life she’d dreamed of the time she’d marry and spend her nights with a man, wake up in the morning to a beloved face, chat cheerfully with the one person in the world who understood her. She wasn’t a feminist in the extreme form of the word. She enjoyed working, loved nursing, but more than anything, she wanted marriage and family. But as Meg had said often enough, she had terrible taste in men.
Sighing with the realization that once again she’d fallen for what could never be, Pippa forced herself away from temptation. With the intercom and voice monitor off, Seth fell sound asleep again, wrapping his arms around the pillow instead of her. She cursed herself vividly and fluently as she hurried out the door. What remained of her tattered self-esteem couldn’t withstand the emotional battering a man like Seth would subject her to, wittingly or not. For her own good, she couldn’t stay here any longer than it would take to nurse Chad back to health.
She showered and, after catching a glimpse in the mirror, donned a dress with a high neck. She didn’t need everyone in the household knowing how she’d spent the night. She blushed even to think about it. All those years of self-righteously avoiding the doctors she worked with, and she had to fall into bed with the man who hired her. Boy, if that wasn’t dumb, she didn’t know what was.
Her mother had taught her better. Her mother had taught her to respect herself, and she did. She knew precisely what she’d done and why she’d done it, and she would probably do it again. She couldn’t regret it. But she sure as hell could regret the results.
Too late now. She hurried toward Chad’s wing of the house and prayed Seth continued sleeping. She couldn’t face him on an empty stomach with alcohol still fogging her brain. She needed normality to clear her head.
Lillian sighed with relief as Pippa hurried in.
“Thank goodness! I can’t wake Seth. Chad wants Coke for breakfast. I told him he couldn’t have it, but he won’t listen to me.”
“You promised Coke,” Chad rasped from the bed. “I don’t want water.”
“Coke it is,” Pippa agreed, testing his forehead and finding it slightly warm but nowhere near what it had been the night before. “How about some orange juice first, though? And what would you like for breakfast?”
Mollified that she’d agreed with him, Chad considered the question. “Strawberry pancakes. And a hamburger.”
Lillian made a noise of disgust and shook her head. “I think I’ll turn over the nursing duties to you now, Phillippa. I’m much too old for this. Nana has gone to start breakfast, but I don’t imagine it includes hamburgers.”
“Seth really appreciates everything you’ve done,” Pippa said sincerely, halting the other woman before she escaped. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
Pippa could see the resemblance to Seth as Lillian’s gaze sharpened knowingly.
“Wyatts seldom appreciate anything or anyone. You’d best remember that.” She swept from the room before Pippa could think of a reply.
Chad didn’t give her time to consider the implications of the older woman’s words.
“Am I getting hamburgers?”
“Probably not,” she answered cheerfully. “But that’s okay. You wouldn’t be able to eat them if you had them. Cowboy Bob will be lucky to keep his pancakes down. Let me find you some clean pajamas.”
For Chad’s sake, she had to stay cheerful. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. He could have a setback anytime. She had a few days to think about what she would do next.
But then, for the protection of her own mental health and emotional well-being, she would definitely have to leave.
Chapter 21
Doug was showing Chad how to play cat’s cradle and Pippa was on the telephone with one of Seth’s CEOs when Seth finally sauntered into Chad’s room, freshly shaved and looking better than he had in days. Her stomach did a couple of knee jerks at the sight, but she managed her best professional nod as his gaze immediately swept in her direction. She ignored the accusation in his eyes. He couldn’t say a damned thing while Doug was here.
Chad shouted for his father to see what he could do, then instantly launched into a bout of coughing. Pippa hung up the phone and calmly handed him a bowl to spit into. When he had the cough under control, she pushed him back into the pillows. “Time to rest, young man. Just close your eyes and breathe deeply for a little while.”
“Don’t want to,” he protested, although he didn’t sit up again.
“You want to go swimming again?” she reminded him.
“Yeah.” Scowling, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his narrow pajama shirt moving up and down with the effort.
Beside Doug’s massive hands, Chad looked tiny and too frail, and Pippa watched the big man shake his head in dismay.
She touched his arm and shook her head. “He’s strong. He’ll be fine. Make sure we’ve got plenty of Coke.”
She could swear the ex-football player was blinking back tears. He nodded carefully before looking at her with a surprisingly shrewd gaze. “You’re a witchy woman, girl. You watch it, okay?”
Pippa bit back a smile and didn’t look at Seth until his chauffeur left the room. Then she sent him a warning look. “Chad’s not asleep.”
Seth glanced down at the boy, the look of love so blatant in his eyes that Pippa thought her heart would burst. What had happened last night was simply an extension of Seth’s love for his son. She understood that, just as she understood that patients
frequently thought themselves in love with their nurses. He was grateful, and he’d needed someone to reach out to as much as she had. It had been a mistake. They’d both known it. Now it was over.
When Seth looked up again, he’d retreated behind the mask of remoteness he’d cultivated until it had become a part of him. He nodded toward the corner of the room.
She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, whether it was words of regret or apology or demand. She wanted everything to go back to the way it had been before. But she’d blown that last night.
Okay, so she had to face the music. Straightening her spine, keeping a stiff upper lip, she marched to the far corner of the room where they could speak with some semblance of privacy.
“You should have woken me up.”
Those weren’t exactly the words she’d been prepared for. Pippa dared a quizzical glance at Seth’s expression. She could read nothing into it.
“You needed your sleep.”
“I’m not your patient. Let me be the judge of that. I’ll take care of myself, thank you.”
They’d had some weird conversations before, but Pippa thought this might top them all. Seth’s view of the world definitely had some strange twists to it. She eyed him carefully. “Okay, I won’t take care of you. You take care of yourself. Is there some point to this conversation? Shall I go back to work or leave?”
“Leave?” He blinked in confusion, then responded in anger. “Don’t you dare leave! Chad needs you. I haven’t finished this damned book yet and Miss MacGregor hasn’t returned. If you leave, I’ll come after you and strangle you with my bare hands.”
That figured. He’d completely wiped out what had happened last night. Maybe alcohol did affect his memory. Or his mind simply operated on the here and now, without regard to past or future. She could buy that—for the moment. She couldn’t live with it forever, however.
Blue Clouds Page 19