“Are we swimming? Or have you decided upon drowning as the best means to rid yourself of me?” Cassidy teetered on her bare feet.
“What better way to sober up than with a swim? If you spend the night, I insist you arrive at the decision with a clear head.” Clayton trailed his hands down her arms and captured her hands in his.
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” Cassidy tilted her head.
“And mine is way upstairs in my room.” Clayton’s fingers brushed his chin as he pretended to ponder their dilemma. “Whatever shall we do?”
“Are you suggesting we skinny dip?” Cassidy smiled, and an embarrassing wine-induced giggle escaped her lips.
“A moonlight skinny dip? You’re absolutely brilliant.” Clayton winked and then started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Please allow me.” Cassidy grabbed a handful of white cotton and pulled him closer. While her fingers busied themselves with his buttons, he unzipped the back of her dress. Her job completed, she dragged the shirt off his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms. Her dress slid down her slim body and circled her ankles on the cement.
Clayton whistled softly when his eyes moved to her lacy cherry-red Victoria’s Secret bra and panty set. She stood before him, barefoot and naked except for her underwear.
“Cassidy Du Pont. If I’d known what lay hidden under that dress all night…”
“Dinner would have burnt to a crisp in the oven?” Cassidy smiled.
“Something along those lines.” Clayton swept her up in his arms.
Cassidy leaned closer, anticipating his kiss. Instead, he tossed her into the pool’s deep end.
Cassidy’s arms and legs flayed as she flew through the air, and she screamed until her head descended below the water. She surfaced seconds later, her eyes blazing. “What if I couldn’t swim?”
“I would have dived in after you.” Clayton shed his socks and trousers and stood before her in his designer silk underwear.
“A boxer man.” Cassidy nodded her approval.
Clayton leapt off the pool edge, tucked into a cannonball position. When he hit the surface, he displaced an enormous quantity of water splashing Cassidy in the face.
“You rotten…” Cassidy dove beneath the surface and swam underwater until she faced Clayton. The wine relaxed her inhibitions and released her playful side. As he treaded water, she swiftly pulled his boxers down around his ankles, unexpectedly coming face to face with his impressive manhood unaffected by the still-warm, solar-heated pool water. She quickly surfaced again, feeling herself blush.
Clayton tossed his boxers onto the lip of the pool, and then he dove underwater.
Cassidy lost sight of him under the clear blue water. And then she felt the tug on her bra strap. She realized it was hopeless; he’d have her naked one way or another. She slipped the bra off her shoulders and wiggled out of her panties. Both landed on the side of the pool beside his boxers.
Cassidy dove under the surface, feeling like a carefree college student again. She’d attempted a lot of new things while attending law school, including skinny dipping at a private graduation pool party at Harvard. But she’d drawn the line at drugs. While a few of her fellow students indulged, using recreational drugs contradicted her personal belief system and her respect for the law. And she refused to relinquish control of her faculties to anything or anyone.
Alcohol was another matter, she thought, and drinking wine to excess with Clayton had felt right. Suddenly recalling her evening with Randy Rock, would she regret that decision in the morning?
Clayton popped up beside her and wiped the water from his eyes. “Hey, beautiful, would you like to race to the other end of the pool?” And then he encircled her in his arms.
They stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Time stood still.
Cassidy wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t dare breathe for fear of breaking the magical moment. And then he kissed her, and Mother Nature took over.
Making love underwater required a certain degree of skill, and having drunk two and a half bottles of wine, they collectively thought better of it. Drowning would certainly put a damper on the evening.
Clayton swept her up in his arms, carried her up the cement steps out of the pool, and set her down on a double-sized lounger. He explored her body, licking water droplets off her skin as he progressed from head to toe. Touching her. Tasting her. She closed her eyes and lay naked and unabashed in his arms.
And then she turned on her side and moved her hands across his corded muscular chest. She popped one of his nipples into her mouth, and heard his rapid intake of breath.
“Damn.” Clayton met her eyes. “My supply of protection is upstairs in the night stand.” His expression conveyed his frustration at having lost the moment.
Cassidy smiled and winked at him. “Race you.” And then she leapt off the lounger and ran toward the pool room door.
Clayton streaked ahead—they were both naked as the day they were born—leading the way to the second floor. Cassidy wobbled slightly from the wine, but arrived at the master bedroom door only a second after him, breathless from her sprint.
A king-sized mahogany bed monopolized the room, accompanied by matching night stands and a six-drawer dresser. Pale blue walls and brown-toned bedding provided a calming effect. A chaise longue stood in one corner beside the largest window, and she caught a glimpse of the ensuite through the open door.
Clayton whipped the bed coverings aside and dug in the night stand. She excused herself and slipped into the ensuite for a moment, discreetly closing the door.
When she returned, Clayton lay on his side on the bed, his head resting in his hand, propped up on one elbow. He crooked his finger, motioned for her to join him. She raced across the room and jumped onto the bed. He caught her in his arms and pinned her under him.
“Get off me!” She shouted.
Clayton froze. “Did you change your mind?” he whispered, his face as pale as the sheets. He rolled off her and sat on the edge of the bed, his feet hanging over the side.
“Oh, no. You’re just heavy. I would never change my mind now.” Cassidy reached her hand out to him. “Come here. Lie down.”
Clayton blew out his breath, swung his feet onto the bed and drew her against him. “You frightened me for a moment. If you’d changed your mind, stopping now may have killed me.”
“I want…I need…” Cassidy whispered, blushing. “It’s been…”
“I know.” Clayton kissed the top of her head. “It’s been awhile for me, too.”
Cassidy couldn’t meet his eyes, suspecting the moment felt equally awkward for him. And then he straddled her middle and tickled her silly. She screamed and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. “Uncle! Uncle!” she shouted in surrender.
Immediately his hands stilled, and he looked deep into her eyes while one hand caressed her breast. “God, you’re beautiful.” He dipped his head and suckled one nipple and then the other until Cassidy groaned with pleasure.
Clayton slid down her body, lay alongside her on the bed. And then he leaned forward, wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her deeply. His tongue parted her lips, demanding entry. Their tongues danced a sensual rumba in her mouth, and Cassidy rode on a wave of desire she’d never experienced before.
His fingers searched and found her most sensitive places while he continued to kiss her, deeply, completely. Cassidy feared she’d burst into flames, perish in the scorching heat they’d generated together. She’d never experienced lovemaking like this with anyone before. Clayton sent her soaring to unknown heights. She’d never descend to earth again.
And then he stopped, met her eyes. “Last chance to change your mind.”
“Are you crazy?” she gasped, breathless, heart pounding. “We’re both beyond reconsidering the wisdom of this.” She searched his eyes and saw the burning passion she’d ignited in him. A groan escaped her, and she reached for his throbbing manhood, caressed him with gentle hands.
“Not a one.”
Clayton lowered his body onto hers, and she welcomed him, needed his weight to anchor her to earth. She guided him inside the core of her being and rode the wave of desire they created. Another moan escaped her, and he quickened his movements.
Was the buzzing in her head the result of the wine or from the passion that totally enveloped her? Clayton drove into her, demanding but gentle. She wrapped her legs and arms around his body, and then she gasped when her world exploded in a blinding kaleidoscope of colors.
The first time led to the second. And then a third.
Later, Cassidy snuggled under the thick duvet, wrapped safely in Clayton’s arms. For the first time in months she luxuriated in how she felt: relaxed, spent, and wonderfully content with life. She was at peace, body and soul, with the world.
Within seconds, she drifted off to sleep.
****
The next morning, Cassidy cracked open one eye. Brilliant sunlight streamed through the windows, blinding her. Rumpled covers on the other side of the bed were the only evidence she hadn’t slept alone.
“What have I done?” she whispered, throwing one arm across her eyes.
She’d experienced the best sex of her life, is what, and with Clayton Morrison no less. How could that happen? He annoyed her to distraction at work and rode her case constantly with his rules and regulations: don’t be late for work, don’t mix up orders, and don’t date the customers.
What about don’t sleep with the manager? Apparently, that wasn’t a rule!
At least, she wasn’t hung over. She moved her arm off her eyes and glanced at the clock on the night stand. She sat bolt upright and gasped. Quarter to twelve! She was forty-five minutes late for work. Why hadn’t Clayton woken her before he left? Oh, God, his housekeeper would arrive for work in fifteen minutes.
She needed to escape, now.
Cassidy leapt out of bed, dashed to the ensuite, and froze in her tracks. Clayton stood at one of the sinks, shaving the old-fashioned way with a straight razor.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
He glanced her way and then added additional lather to his cheeks with a small brush. “Getting ready for the day.”
“We’re both late for work.” Cassidy stood, arms crossed, silently fuming.
“Nope.” Clayton rinsed the razor in the water.
“What do you mean nope? It’s almost noon.”
“Called in sick for both of us.” Clayton met her eyes and grinned. “Explained that we’d contracted a frightening case of food poisoning last night at dinner, and neither of us could possibly work today.”
“You didn’t!”
“Did so.”
“Food poisoning?”
“Sherry believed it. Hook, line, and sinker.”
Cassidy peeked into the mirror and grimaced. Her short hair stood on end in places and stuck to her head in others. Dried remains of supposedly waterproof mascara smudged the area under her eyes. She met his eyes in the mirror. “So, I have the day off. I still need to go home.”
Clayton wobbled his eyebrows. “No need to rush off. Let’s maximize our day of freedom. Crawl back into my bed, and I’ll join you in a minute.”
“Forget it. Elsie is due any minute, and I’m leaving with one thread of decency still intact. I’ll use the bathroom down the hall.” Cassidy turned and strode out of the room.
“Elsie’s not coming in today,” called Clayton.
Cassidy retraced her steps, poked her head into the ensuite. “What on earth did you tell your housekeeper? That we’ve contracted bubonic plague and she should avoid all contact with us?”
“No, I told her a respectable young lady stayed overnight, and we’d appreciate the house to ourselves today.” Clayton dried his clean-shaven face with a towel.
“That’s an oxymoron. How can I be a respectable lady if I’ve slept here overnight?” Cassidy shook her head and swept out of the room again.
Clayton stuck his head into the hallway and shouted at her rapidly retreating back. “I didn’t mention anything about us cavorting naked in the pool. I just told her that you’d stayed overnight. We’ll mess up the bedding in one of the spare rooms, she won’t know the difference.”
“And we’ll convince her that Mata Hari was a virgin,” muttered Cassidy, as she dashed into the closest bathroom and slammed the door shut.
After using the facilities, Cassidy discovered a large white wicker basket on the vanity. She dug through several travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, body lotion, a toothbrush and toothpaste, face cream and small sample tubes and packets of cosmetics. She found a brush, a comb and styling gel in the basket as well, and clasped them to her chest. “Thank you, Elsie, for your attention to detail and thoughtful consideration of Clayton’s guests,” she whispered aloud. Assorted sizes of fluffy white towels were stacked on the other side of the vanity.
Cassidy showered and tended to her hair and then returned to the master bedroom wrapped in a bath sheet. Turning in a circle, she gushed, “What do you think? Should I keep it or return it to the store? Is it my color? Do you think the strapless, wraparound design is too revealing?”
“Cute.” Clayton tucked his white t-shirt into khaki cargo shorts. “I assumed you’d need something to wear, other than your designer towel that is. Elsie keeps spare clothes here to change into after gardening, and she’s about your size. I laid out a blue t-shirt and a pair of those short pant things.”
“Capri pants?”
“Right, blue t-shirt and tan Capri pants.” Clayton pointed to the bed. “I fetched your underwear. It dried overnight. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“Thank you, you’re very considerate.”
“Get dressed. I’m cooking eggs and toast.” Clayton grinned. “Don’t even consider ordering anything else, that’s all I know how to make.”
“Eggs and toast it is.” Cassidy grinned. “But I’d kill for a cup of coffee right now.”
Clayton strolled across the room and stood beside her. “Coffee I can do.” He leaned in, brushed her lips with the softest kiss, and then left the room.
Cassidy fell backward onto the bed, loosening her towel in the process. She’d spent the night at a date’s house before on occasion, but the next morning always felt awkward. With Clayton, however, everything seemed almost ‘domestic’.
“I actually feel at home.” Cassidy smiled, and an entire day with Clayton lay ahead of her. She softly squealed, leapt off the bed, and quickly dressed.
Could her obligatory dinner with Clayton result in something more permanent? The idea thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. Because she was almost certain she’d fallen in love with him last night.
CHAPTER 12
Mr. Theodore Donahue deplaned and strode into the South Terminal of the Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport. He wore a charcoal gray custom-tailored suit, white shirt, striped silk tie and Italian leather shoes. A passerby would notice the monogrammed leather briefcase in his hand and assume the well-dressed gentleman travelled on business. But the purpose of his journey was strictly personal: he’d located his daughter, and he intended to take her home.
“Espresso Macchiato to go, please.” Theodore purchased a Starbucks coffee upstairs.
“Thank you. Keep the change, miss.” He smiled at the young female barista and reached for the coffee.
Several fellow travelers fell into step with him as he strode toward the baggage claim area. While he drank his coffee and paced beside the designated carousel, Theodore listened to everyone grumble about the delay. The cacophony of muddled conversations assaulted his ears, and his head pounded from all the chatter and noise. To prevent a full-blown migraine from spoiling his trip—his mission took priority over everything else in his life—he popped an Imitrex into his mouth and downed it with the cold remains of his coffee. He strode across the floor and tossed hi
s empty cup into a nearby garbage receptacle.
Theodore glanced at his Rolex. Twenty minutes had passed, and the carousel remained motionless. “Shouldn’t have checked the damn bag,” he muttered and dragged his right hand through slightly disheveled silver-gray hair. He set his briefcase on the floor, leaned against a cement column, crossed one foot over the other and slammed his hands into his trouser pockets.
Patience wasn’t his strong suit.
The white-haired grandfather who’d been Theodore’s seatmate during the flight fussed over his four grandchildren. The kids chattered like squirrels while the family waited for granddad’s luggage. Every time one child completed a story—scoring a goal in the soccer game or receiving a 100% on a spelling test—another grandchild launched into a lengthy tale of his own.
The poor old fellow’s ears will be bleeding before the bags arrive, thought Theodore. And then he swallowed hard, attempting to quell the sudden flash of jealousy he’d experienced. How he longed for a grandchild of his own. Did the old fellow realize how lucky he was?
A few feet away, a baby fussed in his mother’s arms despite extensive pacing. Finally, the young woman flopped onto a nearby chair, dug into a diaper bag, and stuffed a bottle into the child’s mouth. Theodore pictured Cassidy, sitting with a baby in her arms. And then he shook himself out of his reverie. “Someday,” he whispered.
Theodore stared at the gaping hole above the carousel willing the luggage to appear. Overcome by momentary exhaustion, he closed his eyes.
For the past several weeks he’d moved through each day in a daze, distracted and worried sick about his only child. He’d passed off his entire caseload to other partners or underlings while he spent endless hours on the telephone and on the internet searching for Cassidy. He’d questioned his daughter’s friends and co-workers hoping for any tidbit of information that might lead to her whereabouts.
And then he’d received the break he needed.
Yesterday, he’d paused unseen in Jeannie St. James’ office doorway, searching for the words that might convince her to divulge everything he suspected she’d been withholding concerning Cassidy. His ears pricked up as he eavesdropped on the one-sided telephone conversation. Jeannie mentioned ‘Anchorage’ and ‘Patricia Graham’ during the brief call, and Theodore slipped back into his office uncharacteristically giddy with excitement.
Not What It Seems (Escape to Alaska Trilogy) Page 10