by Heidi Betts
He was trying to shock her. Well, it wasn't going to work. Rebecca had seen a fair share of naked men in her lifetime, and this one in particular was not going to intimidate her. She took a step forward and raised her voice. “You arrogant, self-righteous swine! What makes you think I'd ever want to share a bed with you? Besides, you have Sabrina Leslie for that. But then, you pay her generously for her trouble. I—"
A knock at the door interrupted Rebecca's tirade. Caleb smiled at the panic in her eyes. God forbid she be found in his room this late at night, especially with him as naked as the day he was born. Caleb sank lower in the tub, folding his arms behind his head in a relaxed pose. “Those are my towels. Get them for me, will you, sweet?"
Sweet? Rebecca pursed her lips to hold back the string of curses she wanted to throw at him.
"All right, I'll get them,” Caleb said casually, taking hold of either side of the tub and beginning to rise.
Rebecca's eyes widened. “I'll get them,” she said quickly, holding out a hand to stop him from standing up. If only the knock had sounded from the sitting room door, her situation would not be quite so grim. But whoever was delivering the towels had come through to the bedroom.
She could not be found here, alone with a naked man. Opening the door but a fraction, she stuck an arm through and grabbed the stack of fluffy white towels. Then she pressed her hip against the mahogany panel until she heard the latch catch.
"You can put them here,” Caleb said, once again patting the chair's crewel seat.
Rebecca held the pile of thick cotton towels protectively against her chest, locking her teeth together as tightly as a steel trap. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. After all she'd been through this night, she vowed not to leave until she got what she'd come for.
"I came, Mr. Adams, to collect the money you owe me for Miss Leslie's gown. If you pay me, I'll go and leave you in peace."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. Sabrina and I are no longer acquainted, so to speak. Our relationship has been dissolved for more than a fortnight. And though I had the immense pleasure of seeing your handiwork with a needle, I cannot be held responsible for any orders Sabrina may have placed since the end of our involvement."
"I wouldn't have made the gown if I didn't think you would pay for it. Miss Leslie assured me that you approved of the purchase."
"Apparently, she lied. You really should have checked with me first."
"And just what am I supposed to do now? The dress has already been delivered, so I can't try to sell it to someone else. Not that any respectable woman in this town would wear such a humiliating item,” she said with an unladylike snort. “But since it is no longer in my possession, I can't even rip it apart and reuse the materials."
"As I said, I'm sorry for your dilemma, but there's really nothing I can do. You made a mistake in taking Sabrina's word over mine."
Rebecca reached for the straight-backed chair next to the tub, dragging it a distance from Caleb. She put the linens on the seat and walked to his suit, thrown haphazardly across the bed. Rebecca lifted the jacket and pants.
"What do you think you're doing?” Caleb asked in a hard tone, sitting up a little straighter.
Rebecca smiled. “Do you suppose there's enough money in here to make good on your debt?” she asked rhetorically, digging into a trouser pocket.
"Nothing there.” Rebecca continued searching. “What about the suitcoat?"
"Get your hands off my clothes. Just who the hell do you think you are, going through my things?"
Rebecca cast him a complacent look. “I am a very distraught seamstress who feels unjustly punished by a wealthy businessman for nothing more than making a dress for his paramour. And since you are somewhat indisposed at the moment, Mr. Adams, I am taking the liberty of exacting rightful payment."
"Rebecca.” Caleb's hands clutched the sides of the bathtub so hard, she expected the fragile ceramic to shatter. “If you don't put those down right this minute, I am going to get out of this tub, come over there, and tan your pretty little backside."
Rebecca chuckled, feeling brave with Caleb waist-deep in bath water. “You have never had the pleasure of seeing my posterior, Mr. Adams, so you cannot possibly comment on its appearance."
Holding her hand up so Caleb could see the thick wad of bills she'd found, Rebecca counted out the amount of Sabrina's gown. She tucked the money securely into the square-cut bodice of her comfortable old day dress.
"I'll leave you to your bath now, sir. Furthermore,” she said, feeling boldness pumping through her veins as she moved to the door, “you're not hiding anything under that water that I haven't seen before. Good-night."
"Rebecca?"
Caleb's voice was so quiet, so calm, that Rebecca turned back to look at him without conscious thought. When she did, he leaned forward and pushed himself up from the tub. The soapy water lapped against the porcelain sides in waves, spilling over to darken the burgundy carpet. Long trails ran down the length of Caleb's bronzed body, capturing Rebecca's attention.
She swallowed hard. “Oh, my."
Chapter Seven
"I thought you said you've seen naked men before."
Rebecca nodded. “M-Many.” Her response sounded strangled even to her own ears. Just none quite as ... as ... Well, none quite like Caleb.
Caleb kept his gaze on Rebecca, watching as her eyes roamed the expanse of his body. A flush began at the bodice of her faded indigo dress, progressively climbing up her throat all the way to her hairline.
His mouth curved up as he noticed her especially noticing the area below his belt ... so to speak. His physique must be impressive compared to the other men she'd seen; otherwise she wouldn't look so shocked.
But his smile became a frown as the meaning of Rebecca's words hit him. She had seen “many” naked men. So she wasn't a straitlaced virgin. Far from it!
Caleb didn't know what he'd expected, but the idea of Rebecca being with another man—many men—froze his blood. After seeing her with Megan, spending time with her on their picnic and flower hunt, he had begun to hope she was different from the women he'd known back in New York. Unlike the snooty, aloof ladies he'd had the misfortune to be involved with, Rebecca was warm and personable, with a lively sense of humor. Or so he'd thought.
But really, she was no different than any of the others. She had probably used her body innumerable times to bend men to her will. Her lifestyle didn't show it, of course. She had most likely made bad decisions along the way and lost her illicit earnings, leaving her practically destitute. Now she was on the lookout for another man to lure into her web.
Well, he would not be her next victim, Caleb thought as he stared intently at Rebecca. Her mouth was open, and she swayed slightly as if a sneeze could blow her over. Caleb hadn't noticed before how round and full her breasts looked beneath the faded blue dress. The material tightened provocatively across her chest, tapering down to a waist Caleb could span with his hands. As he had several times on the day of the picnic.
No, he would not be her next victim....
But he would be her next lover.
"So tell me, Rebecca, how do I compare to the others?"
Rebecca's head jolted up at the coldness of Caleb's voice. Only then did she realize where her sights had been. Heat flooded her body, and she began to pray that the floor would open up to swallow her whole.
It took a moment for Caleb's question to burrow its way through the fog that surrounded her brain. How did he compare? Compare to whom? What did he mean?
Oh, yes. She'd made that flippant remark about his not hiding anything she hadn't seen before. While it was true, she probably would have been wiser to keep her mouth shut. Octavia Fitzgerald had warned Rebecca that her outspoken comments would someday get her in trouble.
It looked as if the widow's prediction had just come true.
Rebecca straightened her spine and took a deep breath. She had never backed down from a confrontation before; she wasn't going to beg
in now. Caleb Adams acted a bit too high and mighty for her tastes. He needed to be put in his place, and she was just the seamstress to do it.
Tapping her chin with an index finger, she pretended to seriously contemplate the question. Swallowing hard, she let her eyes move boldly, slowly, over Caleb's broad shoulders and chest, following the curly black hair of his “pleasure path"—as the girls at Lilah's used to joke—to the finely chiseled male organ between his legs.
So her presence affected him. Well, she knew how to remedy that.
"Well...” Rebecca stretched the word out until Caleb shifted uncomfortably. “I've seen better."
Caleb's body tensed, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
She held her breath to see if her comment produced the desired result. “Now don't feel bad,” Rebecca said in a soothing voice. “What you've got is nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure it suits your purposes well enough."
"And just how do you know so much about the male anatomy?"
Rebecca shrugged one shoulder and smiled secretly.
"Would you say you're an authority on the subject?"
She shrugged her other shoulder, pretending to find the whole topic rather boring.
"Would you care to put your expertise to the test?"
Rebecca didn't move. What was he suggesting? Her voice wobbled as she spoke. “What-what do you have in mind?"
"Oh, simply a chance to sample the goods. An opportunity to compare me with your other conquests."
Rebecca laughed, trying to sound brave and confident. “It sounds delightful, but I really must be going.” She turned toward the door, hoping for a quick escape.
"Mind handing me a towel?"
Rebecca flushed guiltily. It was the least she could do after insulting his manhood—literally. She walked back to the chair, plucking one off the pile. She stared at a spot a good three inches above his head and held the towel at arm's length, waggling it by one corner.
Like a striking rattlesnake, Caleb's hand darted out to snag her wrist. Crying out in surprise, Rebecca found herself being pulled to the damp, unyielding wall of his chest and clamped between the steel bands of his arms.
"Let go of me,” she hissed, grappling against his iron grip.
"You weren't going to walk off with my money, now were you, Miss Rebecca?"
"It's my money,” Rebecca insisted, redoubling her efforts to get free.
"Hardly, my dear."
Caleb stepped from the tub gracefully, as if he wasn't fighting to keep hold of the struggling woman in his arms. He pressed his lips to her ear, her cheek.
Rebecca stilled her protests, remaining like a block of ice in his embrace. When Caleb moved to cover her mouth and kiss her, she dug her nails into his chest, trying to push him away.
He tickled and teased the outline of her lips, eliciting a moan from deep in her throat. Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed by her response to his touch. Was this what her mother experienced each night when she took the patrons of the Scarlet Garter upstairs?
"You are beautiful, you know,” he said, dissolving any lucid thought she tried to form. “Even in that ratty old dress."
Caleb's warm tongue pressed against Rebecca's lips, and she opened to him, no longer thinking to deny the flames that licked at her insides, driving her nearly mad. If what her mother did felt this good, she could almost understand Kate's taking the job. But that didn't excuse her neglectful parenting—or the fact that she had been willing to put her thirteen-year-old daughter to work doing the same thing.
Rebecca leaned into Caleb's body as his left hand traveled down her side to clutch the roundness of her buttocks. His right found one breast, the thumb doing delightfully wicked things through the fabric of her bodice.
Rebecca knew a moment of panic as she felt Caleb's stiff member straining upward against her abdomen. But she forced the fear aside. In her haze of desire, she had actually begun considering allowing Caleb to take her to bed. After all, she was already twenty-three years old, a spinster in most people's minds, and no man was likely to come asking for her hand in marriage. If she ever wanted intimate knowledge of a man, this might be her only chance. And she had to admit that she had recently became terribly curious to see what all the hullabaloo was about.
She could put the experience behind her when it was over and go on with her life, Rebecca told herself. Just as Caleb would. He was used to taking women to bed with no thought of the future. She could do the same. Couldn't she?
Rebecca's back came in contact with a tall wooden column. How they had gotten from the middle of the room to the bed, she had no idea. Startled, she didn't think to struggle as Caleb put an arm under her legs to lift her, following her down onto the softness of the wide mattress.
Caleb fumbled with the long row of tiny pearl-drop buttons at the front of Rebecca's dress as well as the ribbon of her camisole. His fingers brushed the folded bills tucked securely between her breasts. Getting his money back now seemed an infinitesimal matter compared to his need to be close to Rebecca.
He tossed the cash over his shoulder without a second thought, pressing his face against the pulse of her neck, breathing in her scent. She smelled like ... cinnamon. He smiled. It was a far cry from those fancy city perfumes that could end up stinking like a whorehouse. Rebecca's fragrance was sensually simple. In his most erotic fantasies, Caleb had never dreamed she would smell this delicious.
He began kissing his way across Rebecca's collarbone, pushing material from his path, feeling her quiver beneath his erotic touch. As his tongue flicked out, leaving a wet trail down to the underside of Rebecca's breast, she jolted, and Caleb knew he must be imagining the spicy taste of her skin. No one could possibly smell and taste and feel so damn good.
He yanked at her dress, fighting to untangle it from her arms. With a very improper expletive, he ceased his efforts, sealing Rebecca's mouth with his, kissing her until they were both breathless. Though he wanted Rebecca to be as unclothed as he when they made love, his endurance was nearing an end.
When his hands drew her skirts up so he could touch her bare, slender limbs, he felt Rebecca tense beneath him. He kissed her into compliance once more. His hand stroked her warm inner thigh, his fingers roving higher and higher. “Does that feel good?” He smiled when she gasped and moaned.
He didn't really know why he was bothering with preliminaries. By her own admission, Rebecca had been with many men. But for some reason, Caleb wanted to take it slow, make it satisfying for both of them. He wanted Rebecca to remember this night. He wanted Rebecca to remember him above all the others.
With uncommon tenderness, Caleb untied the strings of her coarse, bleached flour-sack drawers, sliding them down the silky smoothness of her legs, letting them fall to the floor. He was glad to discover that Rebecca hadn't bothered with extra underthings this evening, like a corset or stockings that would only take more time to remove.
Rolling a taut nipple with his thumb and index finger, he kissed her again, drawing her tongue into an intimate duel with his own. His other hand lingered at her thighs. He slid two fingers through her soft, springy curls, between her delicate folds. She arched so abruptly that she almost knocked him off the bed, and Caleb groaned, nearly erupting from the mere thought of pressing himself into her. She was hot and wet and ... so damn tight. He could hardly fit one finger inside her narrow sheath, let alone two. How had she gone through so many lovers and still remained as tight as a virgin?
Caleb pushed the question aside and nudged her legs apart with his knee, his mouth still on hers. He lowered his body until he felt her moistness upon the tip of his hard length. With one finger, he touched the swollen nub of pleasure hidden within her feminine flesh. Rebecca gasped and arched off the mattress, causing his shaft to enter her even more deeply.
"God.” He strived for control, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling lest he forget to breathe. It was too much. “I can't wait. I can't.” Caleb hugged Rebecca fiercely and thrust forward, burying
himself as deeply as possible. He held still, knowing that if he moved, he would explode.
Through a haze of intense pleasure, Caleb heard Rebecca's cry and looked up. Her eyes were wide with fear as she fought to break his hold. He frowned. Only when her struggles increased and her body moved against him did he realize why she was so small.
"My God.” He laid his face on her chest for a moment, counting along with the beat of her heart. His arms tightened and clasped her close. “Don't move.” When she didn't heed his warning, Caleb lifted his head. “Dammit, I said don't move.” He grabbed Rebecca's wrists and braced them on the mattress, using all his strength to halt her movements. “The pain will pass if you hold still for a minute."
At this promise, Rebecca let herself go limp.
"There, you see?” Caleb asked after several long seconds.
Rebecca nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She didn't answer. Rebecca remained unmoving, staring up into Caleb's accusing eyes.
"I guess it doesn't matter now. The damage is already done,” Caleb said, apparently deciding the matter.
Rebecca watched his eyelashes flutter closed as his hand began stroking her, making her sob with the sheer ecstasy of his touch.
"I'll make it good for you,” she heard him say in a ragged whisper.
For a moment, she considered fighting him. But then his fingers began making the most wonderful circular motions, and he pulled out of her only to enter again more powerfully than before.
She gripped his shoulders tightly, afraid of the things she was feeling. Afraid that, at any moment, the blackness that hovered just beyond her vision would reach out and steal her away.
Caleb's motions accelerated. Rebecca dug her nails into his back, instinctively straining to meet his fevered thrusts. Her body tingled and burned. She closed her eyes and felt herself being swallowed alive by the dark, only to scream with shock and pleasure when a burst of light streaked across the horizon. Her body quaked, contracting around Caleb as he drove into her one last time with a tortured moan. She felt a wetness flood within her as he stiffened and collapsed, covering her like a warm winter quilt.