Ann Cristy (Helen Mittermeyer)

by Tread Softly (lit)

  "You didn't answer my question." She tried to sit straighter but was impeded by his body.

  "No, I didn't. I wanted to ignore it, because I don't know the answer."

  At this part of the memory Cady always squirmed, knowing that Rafe had given her a warning right then and there that she had not heeded. So what right had she now to resent the parties he went to without her?

  "I think I would be faithful to a woman I loved and respected, but I don't know." He gave her a lopsided smile, his long finger touching her nose. "If I had some­one like you, I don't think I'd want to risk losing her, but I'm also old enough to have had varied experiences with women and to want more." One dark brow rose as he studied her. "Have I shocked you, angel?"

  "No. How old are you?"

  "Twenty-nine." *

  Cady nodded. "And what do you do for a living? I suppose at one time you were here at the university and Father taught you?"

  "Right. Then I went into the service for a while. When I came out I went to law school in Washington, and now I'm a congressman from downstate."

  "Oh. Do you like it?"

  "Very much. In fact, I'm thinking of running for the Senate next year."

  "Really? Then I'll help you campaign." Cady wiped some moisture from her lashes. "I'd like that. And my minor is political science, my father's field, so perhaps I could be an asset to your campaign."

  "Maybe you could help me find a wife first. My ad­visers tell me a wife is a great asset."

  Cady laughed at his expression. "All right, I can do that for you."

  "Be my wife, you mean." Rafe leaned toward her, one lazy finger running down her cheek.

  Cady felt as though someone had pan-fried her skin. She tried to be as cool as he was. "Sure, if that's what you want. I can be terribly ladylike at times." She tried to hold his gaze, but her breathing was becoming con­stricted, so she looked away.

  "I'll tell you what we'll do. Let's have dinner together with your father, then we'll take a walk and talk some more. But let's wait a bit before we join your father. I'd like to get to know you better, lady."

  They had talked for a long time, skipping from topic to topic with the ease of long-time friends.

  Not only had Cady never had the inclination to have men friends in her room, she was also sure that her solicitous father would not have approved. Yet she and Rafe sat on her bed and chatted in the most relaxed way, and she had felt no discomfort at all.

  Finally, after she had laughed over a story he had told about his own clumsiness when he was first a congress­man, Rafe leaned over and took her hand. "We've been up here quite a while, and I'm sure your father is won­dering what's keeping me." He grinned at her. "You're easy to talk to, lady."

  "Thank you." Cady grinned back, feeling a strange surge of power all at once.

  Rafe looked down at the small hand almost lost in his long, graceful fingers. Then he looked up at her, his smile fading. "Your fall break is coming up, isn't it? Perhaps you and your father would like to join me at my place on Santo Tomas Island. I have a house there where I intended to unwind after the election. Do you think you would like to spend your vacation there?"

  "Yes," Cady had answered promptly, then took his hand, rose from the bed, and accompanied him down­stairs.

  Dinner had been fun. She hadn't expected Rafe to be so knowledgeable of campus goings-on, but every time she told him about some antics she and her friends had participated in, he would relate some even more outra­geous deeds that he and his friends had tried. Even her absentminded father was soon laughing.

  They had walked after dinner and had not returned to the house until midnight. Cady felt as though she had known Congressman Rafe Densmore forever.

  In the darkened living room of the old house, Cady had reached for the light switch.

  "No, don't turn it on. There's enough light from the dying fire," Rafe had whispered, then he had pulled her down onto his lap. "You're fragile and too young," Rafe had whispered into her neck. "I don't know what's the matter with me." He muttered as though he were speaking to himself, but still he didn't release her. His hands were wandering seductively, caressing her neck, her shoul­ders, her breasts. "Does Todd touch you like this?" he said against her mouth as he pushed her back into the cushions.

  "Sometimes." Cady gasped, not telling him that Todd had never made her body feel as though it were splin­tering into white-hot shards.

  "Don't let him." Rafe's hands tightened on her. "I'm leaving early, before you get up, Cady, and if you're smart you'll tell me to go to my room now." His hands pushed under her sweater. "God, you should wear a bra.. .but I'm glad you don't." When he pushed the sweater up further and his mouth took hold of her nipple, Cady cried out, her body leaping in response to his.

  "Easy, darling," Rafe had croaked. "I'm losing con­trol."

  "I don't care," Cady had moaned, her hands clutching him, wanting to belong to him.

  "Cady." Rafe's mouth crashed into hers. His hands soothed her, aroused her, set her on fire.

  When Rafe surged to his feet and set her away from him, Cady could only stand there open-mouthed as he tugged her sweater down in front, the slight tremor in his hands surprising her. "Get to bed right now," he said hoarsely. "I'll call you."

  "Rafe," Cady had wailed.

  "Now, Cady. Go to bed."

  She had set her alarm so she would be up in time to see him, but he was already gone when she raced down the stairs at six o'clock the next morning.

  "There's a crucial vote in the House today," her father had informed her in his placid way as the housekeeper poured his coffee. "Rafe's a good man. He was a good student, too." Professor Nesbitt sipped his coffee. "Ahhh. That's good. Doesn't need to work so hard, either, but he does."

  "Are the Densmores rich, Father?"

  "Yes. Rafe's father is in banking. A very shrewd, tough man is old Emmett Densmore. Runs his family as he does his business, with an iron hand. Rafe has two sisters and twin brothers. He's the oldest."

  Cady didn't dare pump her father anymore about Rafe. He was absentminded, but he was quite bright at reading people, and she didn't want him to see the effect that the downstate congressman had had on his daughter.

  After the first week without a telephone call, Cady realized that Rafe wasn't going to phone. She fought despondency, throwing herself into the lab work and classwork that would let her forget sky-blue eyes and dark brown hair.

  One afternoon, head down, hair whipping across her face, she headed across the quad, gold and russet maple leaves drifting to the ground, when suddenly someone took her arm. She squinted sideways to see who it was and nearly dropped her books.

  "Hello, Cady." Rafe reached for the teetering books and slipped them under one arm, taking hold of her with the other. "Can we still get a cup of coffee in here?" he asked, pushing open the door of the Student Union.

  The laughter, shouts, and clanking dishes faded to quiet for Cady as Rafe sat in front of her, a cup cradled in his hands. "What are you doing here?" she asked. She took too big a swallow of the coffee and coughed.

  "Have you missed me?" He gave her a lopsided grin. "I missed you. I can only stay a few minutes; then I have to get back to my constituency." He shot out his wrist, looking at his gold wristwatch. "I have a plane standing by." He looked at her again, taking hold of one of her slender hands. "Tiny lady, I've missed you. I've arranged to have you and your father come down to Santo Tomas with me the day after the election." His smile turned her heart over. "So you see, you'll either have to commis­erate with me or celebrate with me."

  "I know you'll win." She had been breathless when he had squeezed her shoulders while he helped her on with the down vest she was wearing as they were leaving.

  Several people spoke to her, and she responded, but she could never have said who they were a few moments later.

  Rafe sheltered her with his arm when they were on the quad again and the wind whistled around them. She saw the Mercedes with a chauffeur behind th
e wheel parked near the stone wall. She looked up at Rafe, one eyebrow raised.

  "A rented car," he answered her look before assisting her into the car and giving the chauffeur the directions to her house. When he enfolded her in his arms and began kissing her, she had no defense. Her parted lips welcomed his searching tongue as though she had been waiting for it all her life. "Lord, Cady, have you been practicing?" Rafe's voice was hoarse.

  She shook her head, reveling in the feel of the crisp, dark hair at the nape of his neck. "It just comes natural with you." She giggled.

  "Make sure it's just me," he muttered into her mouth as one hand loosened her jacket and felt for her breast. "Damn this election for keeping me from you." The car stopped and he looked at her long and hard. "I won't see you before we leave for Santo Tomas Island. Don't forget me."

  She shook her head as he helped her from the car, gave her a hard kiss, and then sped off down the street. She was still shaking her head when she walked up the sidewalk and into her house.

  That night Todd called her. "How about a beer at the Union?" Cady didn't hesitate. "I'm busy." She had no desire even to talk to Todd, much less meet him for a beer.

  "Busy with that old man I saw you with in the Union this afternoon?" Todd sneered.

  "Drop dead." Cady slammed down the phone.

  Rafe had won, not by a landslide but still by a big margin. The trip to New York was throat-choking be­cause she knew that Rafe would meet them there. It had been a wrenching disappointment when they received the message that Rafe would join them on Santo Tomas a little later and that they were to go ahead.

  Her first day on Santo Tomas Island was like a first day in paradise. The sand was white, the sea was blue. It was a private island, and Rafe's bungalow seemed to be the only one.

  She swam while her father read, but she was just marking time until Rafe came.

  By the time he arrived the next day, Cady had begun to feel uncomfortable and was wishing that she hadn't come. Her father had been content as soon as he found the well-stocked library.

  At first Cady wouldn't look at Rafe when he arrived. He had another man with him, Bruno Trabold, whom he described as a special assistant to his father. "And he's been invaluable to me in this election." Rafe had slapped the man on the back and grinned at him companionably. He hadn't seemed to notice Bruno's hot-eyed assessment of Cady in her pink bikini. She had felt very uncom­fortable.

  Rafe had taken her by the hand and pulled her up the stairs to his bedroom, calling to Bruno to introduce him­self to Professor Nesbitt in the library.

  "Before your suspicious little soul rebels at being up here, let me tell you that I have every intention of chang­ing and showering in my bathroom while you remain here." He wrapped her in his arms as soon as he closed the bedroom door. "But I want to feel you close to me," he mumbled into her hair. "I've missed you, angel."

  "Congratulations," Cady squeaked, feeling all her un­comfortable sensations at his tardiness fading away, wanting him to continue to stroke her breast. "I like being up here with you. I miss you, too."

  Rafe lifted her onto his bed, then stretched out beside her. "It feels very right, having you here like this," his voice rasped against her cheek, before his mouth nibbled its way to hers. "Kiss me, Cady."

  Her mouth flowered open under his, her hands strain­ing her to him. Her body made restless motions under his as his hands pushed at the scraps of cloth covering her.

  All at once he rolled over and sat upon the bed, taking deep gulps of air. "I have to take a shower. Don't move."

  "Rafe." Feeling languid, Cady lifted her arms.

  "No." He strode toward the bathroom, only looking back when he stood in the doorway. "Just wait there for me, Cady. I won't be ten minutes. I have something I want to ask you and I won't be able to concentrate very well as it is." His smile was a derisive twist of his mouth, but his eyes were hot as they roved over her body.

  "That had to be the fastest shower on record." Cady giggled at him as he strode across the bedroom toward her, just a few minutes later, dressed casually in light slacks and a knit shirt, toweling his hair.

  He tossed the towel in a careless heap on the floor, then sat down beside her, his thigh touching hers. He put a hand to her hair, threading his fingers through it. "You have lovely hair. The sun shines in it." He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "I was afraid you might go downstairs again if I didn't hurry, and I have something to say to you."

  Cady's heart was thudding wildly. Her eyes were so close to Rafe's indigo gaze that she could see the tiny gold streaks that rayed out in his irises. "What.. .what is it?" she choked.

  "Marry me." His mouth closed over hers, his tongue intruding into her mouth to tease and coax her tongue. "Marry me, angel. I want you." He leaned over her as he pushed her back onto the bed. "You're too young, I know that, but I can't wait for you. I want you now."

  Cady pulled him down to her, her body feverish. She prayed she wasn't dreaming. She had thought of their first conversation so many times, she felt she might be dreaming now. He had been kidding before when he had sat on her bed and asked her to be his wife. Was he kidding her now? "Do you mean it?" she asked.

  Rafe pulled back from her, the bones of his face seem­ing to push through the skin, his mouth a hard slash across it. "Oh, yes, I mean it. Am I too old for you?"

  "Oh, Rafe, you're perfect for me. I love you, Rafe." Cady's fingers dug into his neck, urging him down to her.

  He didn't relent for a moment but gave her a long look, his eyes like cobalt rays. "Someday you may change your mind, Cady. You're so young to be subjected to the pressures of being a politician's wife. I know damn well you should be going to fraternity dances and beer blasts, but I can't let you go. I only hope you don't hate me for this later and decide to leave me."

  "I won't ever want to leave you. Aren't you going to kiss me?" She laughed up at him, feeling eleven feet tall and able to leap skyscrapers in a single bound.

  His mouth was gentle on hers at first; then, as she wriggled under him, the kiss deepened, his hands trem­bling as they explored her, touching every pore.

  Cady could feel the bowstring tension of his body as he tried to keep himself in check. She had no such in­hibitions with him, letting her restless limbs telegraph the need she had for him. With a sense of power she could feel him slipping toward her, his iron control melt­ing as their bodies strained toward one another through their clothing.

  "Hey, Rafe, are you in there? I think the professor is getting worried about his daughter."

  Rafe looked down at her, his eyes blinking as he tried to surface from the whirlpool of desire into which both of them had been drawn. "All right, Bruno. We're com­ing." Rafe took a deep breath and then looked down at her again, one hand pushing back the dampened tendrils of hair at her temples. "Saved by the knock on the door," he said lightly. "It's a good thing Bruno came when he did. I think I would have taken you right here."

  "I think Bruno is a busybody and I wish he would mind his own business," Cady hissed, her fingers running down his nose.

  Rafe laughed and reached for her hand, letting his tongue trail down the lifeline of her palm. "Let's go down and tell your father that we don't want a long engage­ment. I don't think I could take it."

  "Neither could I," Cady murmured as Rafe set her on her feet, then tightened the ties of her bikini.

  "Do you have a beach jacket you could wear over that?" He led her out into the hall. "I don't think I would like even your father looking at you in that pink bikini."

  Cady's laugh trilled down the hall as she delighted in the possessive gleam in his eye. Before they went to her father in the library, Cady fetched a beach jacket in pink terry cloth.

  "I'm not totally satisfied, because those long legs are delicious and they are showing, but it's better than be­fore." Rafe kissed her lingeringly.

  At once Cady stepped closer and wrapped her arms about his neck, her tongue thrusting at his.

  "Cady, ange
l, don't," Rafe groaned, pushing back from her and holding her arms at her sides. "I'll be dragging you back up the stairs in a minute." He threaded his fingers through hers and pushed open the door of the library, where Bruno was handing Cady's father a drink. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes, Bruno?" Rafe smiled at the man, then turned to the pro­fessor.

  Cady felt a frisson of trepidation race down her spine when she looked at Bruno. Then the flicker that she saw in his eyes as he looked at Rafe was gone. It was easy for her to blame her imagination. The golden aura she floated in didn't allow for anyone's disaffection.

  "Ah—Professor Nesbitt... ah, sir, could I speak with you a moment?" Rafe tightened his grip on Cady's hand as her father pushed his glasses back onto his head and looked at their clasped hands with a narrowed gaze. "I've asked Cady to marry me, sir, and she's said yes. I'd like you to give us your blessing." Rafe had sounded very formal to Cady.

  Her father rose to his feet. "Cady?" He looked at her long and hard.

  She freed herself from Rafe's grip and went to em­brace her father. "I love Rafe and want to marry him. Please say you're happy for me."

  "And what of your studies at the university?" Her father stroked her head pressed to his chest.

  "I've thought of that, sir," Rafe said, coughing. "She could continue her studies at Georgetown or George Washington University or any of the many schools in Washington. She only has two years..." Rafe's voice trailed off. Cady could see the deep red color staining Rafe's neck as he looked at her father.

  "Ahem." Professor Nesbitt looked at Rafe, his face not unfriendly, but not totally open, either. "I see that you've given this much thought."

  "I've had a hard time thinking of anything but Cady since I met her." Rafe's laugh was brittle.

  "But you kept enough of yourself apart to concentrate on the election," her father mused, sighing as he looked at Cady's moonstruck face.

  "I had to concentrate on the election, yes." Rafe watched Professor Nesbitt, his eyes wary.

  "Please, Father, I want to marry him. I can't be happy without Rafe," Cady pleaded, only taking passing notice of the rather sad look on her father's face.