Tell him! urged the voice in her head.
But as she gazed into the sapphire depths of his eyes, she simply couldn’t open her mouth. The room was full of new, fragile feelings, feelings such as she’d never experienced before, and she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the moment.
Soon, she promised herself. I’ll tell him soon.
Five
Four more days passed. In a little over a week, the month would be over.
Nine days, and he would never have to see Ana again. The knowledge didn’t delight Garrett as it might have a few weeks earlier. Tonight they’d had grilled steaks that she’d marinated all day and he’d done on the grill. They’d worked together chopping up a salad with an ease that he found far too appealing.
He stepped through the sliding door and walked down the steps from the deck to the path that led to the beach. As he picked up his fishing gear and eyed the setting sun, his gaze automatically swept the area.
Ana was in the same spot she often was at this time of day, relaxing on a chair she’d dragged down from the deck, her sketch pad in her lap.
“Hi,” he said, pausing as he passed her. “Any requests for tomorrow night’s dinner?”
She tilted her head as if considering her answer, and he was distracted by the heavy fall of curls that swung across one shoulder. Without thinking, he reached out and pushed it back. His fingers slipped over the smooth, warm skin of her shoulder, bared by the sleeveless tank top she wore, and he couldn’t prevent his index finger from extending itself and stroking a small pattern back and forth on the creamy flesh. God, she felt good!
“How about a few small-mouth bass?” Her voice sounded breathless, but it effectively broke into his most inappropriate thoughts about what he’d like to be doing to that skin.
Reluctantly he dragged his hand away. It was becoming all too easy to touch Ana. Bodies brushed in the kitchen, hands met over the remote control, and once or twice she’d asked for his help navigating the computer. He’d leaned over the chair behind her, trying desperately to resist the urge to bury his face in the wild, sweet-smelling curls of her hair and trying even more desperately to hang on to his common sense. Getting involved with her would be a huge mistake. Capital H, capital M. Huge Mistake.
“Would you like to come fishing with me?” Even as the question left his mouth, he was kicking himself. He didn’t need to spend any more time around Ana. If anything, he should be spending less.
She’d set down her pencil and twisted around to look up at him, and her eyes were a vivid aqua in the late-day golden light. “I’ll come if I don’t have to touch the worms,” she said.
The distaste in her elegant tones made him laugh. “I think I can save you from that. I’m using minnows for bait.”
“Dead fish?” She shuddered and he chuckled again.
“I promise you won’t have to deal with them.” He paused. “Unless you want to.”
She snorted and smiled. “Fat chance.” She rose and he stepped back, waiting while she put away her things. Then they walked down the path to the little cove. He offered her his hand as she stepped into the canoe, trying not to notice how small and delicate her palm had felt in his, then untied the canoe, climbed into his end and settled down with a single paddle.
It was a beautiful evening. The last rays of the sun skipped across the lake and an eagle soared over their heads to its nest in the top of a tall tree. The craft cut easily through the smooth, calm waters toward the point where, years ago, he’d learned that the bass congregated.
“Robin taught me to fish,” he said before he thought about the risks of introducing the older man into their easy silence.
But Ana only widened her eyes with an incredulous smile. “Really? I can’t quite picture a man who seemed as suave and debonair as Robin in a sleeveless T-shirt working worms onto a hook.”
He grinned at her reference to his attire. “There are those in the corporate world who couldn’t imagine it of me, either. I guess we all have our little secrets.” He looked over at her. “What’s your secret, Ana?”
She was trailing a hand through the water while he paddled. When she looked across the length of the canoe at him, he got the impression that she’d gone somewhere far away in her head, and the smile faded from her face. “I’m illegitimate,” she said.
She was what? He didn’t know what he’d expected, but a bald confession like that definitely hadn’t been it. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” didn’t seem adequate. “You were raised by your mother in England, weren’t you?” he said carefully. He’d suddenly discovered that he wanted to know about her. All about her.
Ana nodded. “But I was born here. My father was American. My mother always told me he’d died before they could marry, but not long ago I found out he was still alive.”
“That must have been a shock. How did your mother explain that?”
“She didn’t. Couldn’t,” she amended. “She passed away when I was twenty.”
He was surprised. “My mother died of a blood clot when she was sixty-six but your mother must have been a good bit younger than that. What happened?”
“Breast cancer.” She drew out the words in her distinctive accent. “She was only fifty-one. Far too young to die,” she added quietly.
He nodded, letting the silence soothe them for a moment. Then he said, “Did she really believe your father had died?”
“No.” Her voice was quiet. “It turns out he was already married. Apparently she knew that from the beginning, but when she found out she was pregnant, she left him.”
“She left him?” he repeated. “That’s not usually the way it happens.”
Ana smiled slightly. “My mother wasn’t a usual sort of woman. I imagine that she didn’t want my father to feel pressured and she didn’t want him to marry her simply because of me.”
Some women in that situation, he reflected, would have been only too happy to use a pregnancy as a lever for marriage. It spoke highly of her mother’s character that she’d made the difficult choice she had. “She must have wanted you very much, to have raised you alone,” he offered.
She smiled and he could see the memories in her eyes. “She was my best friend.”
“You were lucky.” He cleared his throat. “My father met another woman and left when I was nine. It was an ugly, messy divorce.”
“And then your mother met Robin?”
“Not until I was fourteen.” He smiled, thinking back to those days. “By then, I’d turned into a seriously obnoxious little hoodlum. I bet Robin’s heart sank the first time we met, although he was too nice ever to tell me.”
“But you got along well with him, obviously,” she said.
“Not at first.” It wasn’t something he liked to admit, but he felt the need to answer her honestly. “I was on the verge of becoming a true delinquent. Running with the wrong crowd, smoking, defying my mother, you name it. Robin stepped in and laid down the law as soon as we moved in with him. He insisted on meeting my friends’ parents. He imposed curfews. He cut off my allowance until I started helping with chores and being polite to my mother. God, I hated him!” he said with a laugh. “But he made me settle down. I started paying attention to my grades because he paid me for each A I got. Robin was quite wealthy by most standards, and I liked the lifestyle, so I decided I’d better learn what I could from the old man.”
She looked startled. “Did you call him that?”
“No, but that’s how I thought of him. He was fifteen years older than my mother.”
“My father was seventeen years older than Mother,” she said.
“Well, I didn’t think of Robin as old for very long.” He shook his head. “He took me skiing and beat me down the damn hill every time. He taught me to fish, and to golf—”
“And to make money, apparently,” she broke in with a mischievous smile.
“Well, yes,” he admitted. “He was pretty thrilled with my success.”
They were gliding int
o the grassy shallows along the point by now, and he slowly set down the anchor, then baited a hook and tossed it in. Ana didn’t speak again, and he let the silence lie comfortably between them, amazingly content simply to be sitting there in a lazily rocking boat with her.
He caught three fish in less than half an hour, plenty for tomorrow’s dinner for the two of them, and after retrieving the anchor, he began to pull for their cove. They were traveling against the current now and though it was calm, he had to put more effort into it than he had gliding along with the flow of water earlier.
“Brrr.” Ana rubbed her bare arms. “It’s getting brisk out here. I should know by now that I need a sweater in the evening.”
“You can have mine,” he said. He liked the mental image of her in his sweater, sleeves flopping well down over the ends of her arms, the soft fabric draping over her breasts—
“That’s all right. We’ll be back in a minute.”
But he rose to his knees anyway and began to strip the sweater over his head. The boat drifted for a moment as he did so, and just as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves, he heard Ana say, “Oh, no!”
And that fast, they were in the water.
It was cold. He sank beneath the surface and came up kicking. “Ana!” he yelled as soon as he could drag air into his lungs.
“I’m right here,” she said immediately. “I’m fine.” He relaxed as he heard the laughter in her voice. “But this water is freezing.”
“What the hell happened?” he asked. They were treading water, and he looked around, grabbing the boat before it could get away. Ana swam around and collected life preservers and the blue-and-white cooler in which they’d stashed the fish.
“Well,” she said in a surprised tone that made him start to laugh. “I do believe it was my fault. You were taking off your sweater and I turned around to get the cooler from the front since we were getting close to the dock. I must have leaned a little too far over on the same side you had most of your weight on—your considerable weight on—and the next thing I knew, we went bottom up.”
He was still laughing. “There’s no point in trying to get back into the canoe. It would take us longer than it will just to swim in.”
She agreed, and they set off, side by side, herding their respective items in front of them until they reached the dock. In the shallower water, he was able to stand, and he flipped the canoe upright again, then tied it at the end of the dock. She was already up the ladder when he hauled himself onto the dock and they stood there looking at each other, grinning like idiots.
“If Robin could see us now…” she said.
“I think he can.” He wanted to believe it. “He’s probably rolling around on what passes for the floor of Heaven, laughing at us.”
She smiled at him, shaking her head and lifting her hands to wring the water from the mass of her hair.
How could she be so beautiful, soaking wet? The sun was almost gone now but he could still see her clearly. There was something ineffably feminine in her movements, the graceful bow of her back as she bent at the waist, her vulnerable nape as her lifted arms pulled her hair forward and wrung out the excess water. He wanted to kiss her there, right on that exposed spot. He wanted to nuzzle beneath her hair and nibble on her neck, to take her face in his hands and lift it for his kiss.
He took a deep, unsteady breath, conscious of his racing pulse. This wasn’t right. And then Ana straightened. The dripping tank shirt clung to every curve, and though she wore a bra, he could see that her nipples had drawn into tight little points. God, he thought, it wasn’t fair. How could he be expected to resist her?
He dragged his gaze up to her face. Her mouth was slightly open, her color high. Then their eyes met—
And he was lost.
“Ana.” He breathed her name as he took a step forward and pulled her into his arms. She made a startled sound, and her palms came up against his chest, but she didn’t pull away.
They stared at each other for a long, suspended moment. Her gaze didn’t move from his and he could see in her eyes the exact instant when she accepted the inevitable. Her pupils dilated and her shallow breathing echoed his as he said her name again.
“Ana.”
Then he slowly lowered his head.
She sucked in a sharp breath, almost a gasp, as his lips settled over hers, and a sound like a small moan came from her throat. Her fingers dug into the pads of muscle on his chest but he barely noticed the small pain. All he noticed was her.
Beneath his mouth, her lips were soft. So soft. They moved willingly beneath his, clinging as he changed the angle of the kiss.
His hands were on her back, and he slowly rubbed one palm up to her nape and settled it beneath the wet mass of her hair, directly on that tender, sweet skin he’d been fantasizing about only a moment ago. Her hands and arms relaxed and she slid them up around his neck, her small fingers caressing his skin as she pulled his head more firmly down to hers. The motion left a cold, empty space between them and without thinking he tightened his grip on her and slid one hand down her back, drawing her against his hard, aching body.
The feel of her firm, gentle curves made his breath shudder out in a ragged cadence. Her gently rounded breasts flattened against his chest and her soft thighs cradled his. He felt arousal rush through him, felt her body firmly pillow his rapidly hardening flesh, felt the involuntary shiver that arched her silently against him, increasing the pressure in his loins and tantalizing him with the sweet shift of her hips moving over his. It was such an exquisite sensation that a deep growl of frustrated delight rose in his throat—
And in an instant, she wrenched herself out of his embrace. Her hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh, heavens!” she said. “This was a mistake!” And before he could form even the beginnings of a coherent thought, she spun and raced up the path to the cottage as fast as she dared to move over the uneven path.
He stood where he was, looking after her until she vanished inside the door. What had he been thinking? As he trudged up the slope with the fish cooler, he decided it wasn’t a question of what he’d been thinking, but one of why he hadn’t been.
He could hear the water running in the shower when he got inside. After he gutted and cleaned the fish and refrigerated them for tomorrow, he changed into dry clothes. He built up the fire while he waited for her to come out, all the while trying to decide what he was going to say to her. But before he was ready, before he’d figured it out, he heard her coming down the stairs.
He popped up from the couch where he’d been sitting and rushed into speech before she’d even reached the bottom of the steps. “You were right when you said it was a mistake. Please accept my apology.” He shrugged, trying to lighten the tension. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
Something changed in her eyes, as if a door closed in his face. “Apology accepted.” She never even broke her stride, merely continued through the room and on into the kitchen, effectively dismissing him.
He opened his mouth, about to go after her and protest, about to tell her…tell her what?
That he wanted to make love to her more than he’d wanted anything in years?
That he couldn’t keep his eyes off her beautiful body, couldn’t keep his mind off the intriguing puzzle that she was?
What he needed wasn’t her so much as it was a woman. Any woman. He’d never been big on short-term indiscriminate sex, so he tended to go without while he was between relationships. Which he was now, and had been for too long to bear thinking about.
He reviewed the few women whose acquaintance he’d made over the years he and Robin had been coming up here. He’d gone out with one woman last summer a few times, and found her a pleasant enough companion, quite pretty, and though they’d never been intimate…he was pretty sure she wouldn’t say no if he opened that particular door.
Good. He’d call her tomorrow. What was her name, anyway? Ellen? Elaine? No, Eileen. That was it.
He was almost positive.<
br />
Ana took a stuffed chicken and apple dumplings in to share with Teddy and Nola the next evening. As she took the meal from the oven, she wondered if Garrett was eating his bass. He’d been quiet and polite—and noticeably distant—all day. When she’d told him she was having dinner in town, he had grown very still for a long moment. Then he’d said, “I guess you’ll miss the fish. Sorry.”
While the meal baked, she and Nola had played Scrabble. She’d also talked Nola into letting her wash two loads of infant sheets, blankets and clothing and getting it all folded and put away while Nola supervised from a rocking chair. The young woman was growing larger by the day and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to get around. Ana knew Teddy was worried. Nola’s blood pressure had been higher than the doctor liked, he’d confided, and they were hoping the twins did come a little early. Sonograms showed both babies were a good size and appeared to be doing well.
She stayed to clean up after the meal and didn’t get home until nearly eight. Garrett’s car was gone when she pulled into their lane, and she told herself it didn’t matter. She hadn’t expected to see him.
Even if it was a Thursday and they always watched their shows together.
Immediately after that thought came an image out of nowhere. She sat on the couch with Garrett, cuddled into the curve of his arm. As the television show took a commercial break, he turned to her and sought her lips as she wrapped her arms around his strong back and pulled him down…. Stop it, Ana Janette!
Oh, how she wished she could. All day long she’d been trying not to think about The Kiss. All day long she’d had her brain invaded by the breathless, tingly sensation that accompanied any thought of the way he’d gently tugged her against him. His hand had played in her hair, his lips had been warm and firm and far too enticing. And when she’d stopped thinking and let herself go with the moment, sliding her arms up around his neck, he’d pulled her against him—against every muscled, hard, hot inch of him—and she’d nearly swooned in his arms with an overwhelming urge to drag him down to the dock and give herself to him.
Billionaire Bachelors: Garrett Page 8