by Sara Craven
“Thinking I could marry Fiona was a classic case of self-deception,” Rafe said dryly. “You were the one who said there wasn’t any chemistry between us, and you were right. Luckily Fiona met John. You can imagine Clarissa and Douglas’s reaction—but Fiona stood her ground as though she’d been defying her parents since the day she was born.”
“She said you helped.”
“I pointed out a few basic facts to Douglas—but Fiona took him on first. All by herself.”
“Good for her,” Karyn said. “Anyone who can make an impression on Douglas Talbot has my undying admiration. Which doesn’t include you,” she added. “All you had to do was wave your money in front of him—that doesn’t count.”
“Pity,” Rafe said, his smile crackling with energy. “I’d like to have your undying admiration.”
“For someone who’ll never have it, you look entirely too pleased with yourself.”
For someone who didn’t know what the hell he was doing, he felt entirely too pleased with himself. And with her. Deciding to keep that piece of information to himself, Rafe said, “I love Fiona. I’ve known her since she was a babe in arms, I taught her how to climb trees and jump her first pony over a stone wall, and I’m delighted she’s found someone she adores. John’s a fine fellow—they’re admirably suited.”
“I wired her a huge bouquet of flowers,” Karyn said. “I do so want her to be happy.”
“She will be, I’m sure. What’s the name of this river?”
Karyn started describing the countryside. Rafe’s questions were penetrating and his interest unfeigned; she expanded, forgetting how angry she was with him, allowing her intelligence full rein, and hearing herself being wittier than usual. Before she knew it, they’d reached the north shore with its miles of sand beaches and red cliffs. Instead of turning toward the restaurants in the area, Rafe parked alongside the beach. Karyn got out, watching as he took a large wicker hamper from the trunk. “Picnic,” he said economically. “Let’s find a table where we can see the water.”
“A picnic?”
“Is that okay?”
“It’s a wonderful idea—I love picnics!”
She looked as entranced as a little girl on Christmas morning. Rafe turned away, wanting to kiss her so badly his whole body was on fire with need. He slammed the trunk shut and walked along the boardwalk. Some picnic tables had been set on a grass verge overlooking the long stretch of surf; he dumped the hamper on the furthest one. “Let’s eat.”
Karyn unlatched the lid and peered inside, lifting out one of the delicate china plates with its hand-painted pattern of flowering herbs. “It’s a work of art,” she marveled. “Don’t tell me those are lobster rolls—my favorite.”
“There’s caviar and chicken, as well, and an avocado salad. Not to mention dessert.”
“Chocolate?” she said hopefully.
“Dark chocolate mousse with truffles and hazelnuts.”
Karyn laughed out loud. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He took out two crystal champagne flutes and the bottle of champagne that had been wrapped in a towel to keep it chilled. “We’ll start with this.”
She raised her brows. “A high-class picnic.”
“Not quite the best money can buy,” he grinned, “but getting close.”
The cork came out with a most satisfying pop, bubbles rising like foam on the shore. Rafe raised his glass and for a moment was tongue-tied. He knew what he wanted to say. At least he thought he did. But it was way too soon. He drawled, “May all the vaccinated sheep be as healthy as horses.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Then she unwrapped a crusty roll crammed with lobster, crisp celery and a deliciously tangy dressing and began to eat.
Rafe dug into the caviar, enjoying her pleasure in what was, by his standards, a very simple meal. The wind from the ocean was playing with her curls; her eyes were a deeper blue than the sea, although just as full of mysterious depths. Color tinted her cheeks. Helping her to salad, Rafe began to talk about his newest hotel, located on New Zealand’s South Island.
Eventually Karyn had eaten her fill. She licked the last smear of chocolate from her spoon. “That was incredible. If I ate like this every day, I’d be as fat as a barrel.”
“You’re too thin.”
“You’re supposed to say I’m perfect,” she responded pertly. “This was a much better choice than a restaurant, Rafe, thank you so much. I feel like a new woman.”
“You’ve got chocolate on your chin,” he said, leaned forward and wiped it off with one finger.
His face was so close she could have counted his eyelashes. If she’d been able to count. “Rafe, why are you here?” she blurted.
He poured two demitasses of coffee from a thermos, taking his time. “To bring you Fiona’s photos—much as she loves you, she can’t tear herself away from John right now to give them to you herself.”
“There’s a marvelous invention called the post office. What’s the real reason?”
He had no intention of giving his cards away too soon; he’d learned a thing or two about strategy over the years. “I’m checking out a possible hotel purchase in Toronto and thought I’d drop in on the way.”
She gave a rude snort. “Toronto’s 2,500 miles away. You can skip that one, too.”
“It’s for real,” he said mildly. “I travel hundreds of thousands of miles a year, a detour like this is nothing. Besides, you’re Fiona’s sister, and I wanted to see how you were.”
“So it’s nothing to do with that kiss in the woods?”
“Only if we want it to be.”
Karyn said with a careful lack of emphasis, “I like my life the way it is. Sure, we lust after each other—so what? We aren’t going to do anything about it.”
“You’re right, we aren’t,” he said cheerfully. “So you won’t mind if I hang around for a day or two.”
“It’s a free country—I can’t stop you,” she said coldly.
“We’ll go for dinner somewhere fancy tomorrow. What time do you have to be at work the next day?”
“I’m on the late shift,” she said, eying him suspiciously.
“Good. Pack a toothbrush.”
“I’m not going anywhere overnight with—”
“I’ve never in my life taken anything from a woman that she wasn’t willing to give, and I don’t plan to start with you.”
His jaw was a tense line, his eyes unsmiling. Karyn said slowly, “I hurt your feelings.”
“Yeah, you did.”
She could have apologized. But hadn’t she spent a great deal of time apologizing to Steve, often for things that weren’t her fault? She said coolly, “You’re a big boy, Rafe, you can handle it. Where are we going for dinner?”
“It’ll be a surprise. I guarantee you’ll like it and that you’ll have a good time—how’s that for arrogance?”
“You took the word out of my mouth.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “Wear your best dress. There’s live music, too—do you like to dance?”
“Dance with you—no way!”
“Why not?” he asked blandly.
“I’d jump on you on the dance floor,” she said, her scowl deepening.
“Fine by me.”
“You’ve got a one-track mind.”
He said deliberately, “Did you ever feel that way about Steve?”
She surged to her feet in a move from which all her natural grace had been stripped. “I don’t want to talk about Steve!”
“Then we won’t,” Rafe said, all his senses on high alert. “Tell me about the clinic instead. Or the teacher you had a crush on in grade seven.”
Karyn was wringing her hands; he was almost sure she didn’t know she was doing it. “I have to be at work at eight tomorrow morning,” she said, “we should go back.”
“A ten-minute walk on the beach first. It’s a glorious sunset.”
He was putting the food and plates back in the basket. Feeling trapped and bele
aguered, Karyn said choppily, “I’m not playing hard to get. I’m not interested in your money and I couldn’t care less about your status.”
Rafe knew the truth when he heard it. “Good,” he said. “With regards to my money, you’re in a minority of two—you and Fiona…I’ll put the hamper back in the car and meet you on the beach.”
So Karyn wandered down to the sand by herself, slipping off her sandals and letting the smooth grains slide between her toes. The surf’s endless rhythms laved her ears; a pair of terns swooped in elegant curves over the white crests. I can handle Rafe, she thought in a surge of confidence, and walked down to the water’s edge, letting the marbled foam wash over her feet. It was numbingly, bone-achingly cold.
With a tiny shriek she leaped backward. Into Rafe’s arms.
She stood very still, watching the mosaic of orange and gold light dance on the sea as the sun’s brilliant disc was slowly swallowed by the horizon. His hands were clasping her shoulders; he’d pulled her into his body, her back to his chest, his cheek to her ear. The heavy thud of his heart, the strength of his fingers, the waft of his breath in her hair, each was an astonishing intimacy, somehow bound up with the elemental powers of the ocean. Karyn closed her eyes, savoring every sensation, until her body was suffused with a liquid heat. Only then did she turn to face him.
The strong planes of his face were lit by the dying rays of the sun; his eyes, eyes that held the darkness of night, were fastened on her. She knew what was going to happen and welcomed it, opening to him before his lips as much as touched hers.
Rafe slid his arms around her, his hands stroking the soft wool of her sweater; he felt like a teenager before his first kiss, he thought dimly. He also felt as though he held the whole world in his arms.
She was a woman. Just a woman.
Then his mouth found the soft, delicious curve of her lips, and in an upwelling of pure sensation he stopped thinking altogether. Plunging with his tongue, savoring the fluid sweetness that was Karyn, he pulled her tight to him, molding her to his body. His groin had hardened instantly. Rather than pulling away, she pressed herself into him, trembling very lightly, her fingernails digging into his back.
He slid his mouth down the taut line of her throat, nuzzling the pulse in the hollow at its base where her blood was racing in tandem with his. Pushing her sweater aside, he found the silken curve of her shoulder, tasting, licking, nibbling until he wondered if he’d go out of his mind. The rise of her breast fit his palm perfectly; her nipple was as hard as a tiny shell. She moaned his name, cupped his face in her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers.
When he opened his eyes, hers, blazingly blue, were so close he could drown in them. Was drowning in them, he thought, and somehow found his voice. “Karyn, someone’s coming—we’ve got an audience.”
Another couple, hand in hand, was wandering toward them down the beach. She said dazedly, “Do we care?”
He wanted to protect her, he realized. From everything, including prying eyes. “I care,” he said. “What’s between us is private.”
Karyn stepped back. The sand underfoot was both wet and cold, bringing her to her senses. “The only thing between us is old-fashioned lust,” she said faintly.
“Even if that’s true, it’s still our concern. Not anyone else’s.”
He turned her to face the sea again, his arms wrapped around her body, hands linked at her waist. She leaned back, glad of his support because her knees felt as wobbly as jellyfish. She herself felt desired, sensual and fully alive, sheltered in the heat of Rafe’s body. Had she ever luxuriated so instinctively in the pleasure of being held?
The sun had disappeared; the distant clouds were painted all the shades of pink and gold. She murmured, “I love the sea, don’t you?”
“I own a little place in the Outer Hebrides, you can hear the surf through every window.” The other couple had passed them. Even though he yearned to continue a kiss that had stunned him with its potency, Rafe said easily, “I should get you home.”
Karyn sighed, reluctant to leave even though she knew he was right. A romantic sunset, a beautiful beach, a man whose body entranced her: they’d all worked their spell. But now the spell was broken, and home was where she belonged. Back to reality, she thought ruefully, loosing the clasp of his hands and stepping away from him. “The water was like ice,” she remarked, trying to mask how suddenly and inexplicably bereft she felt.
“Have you ever swum in the Bahamas? Or the Mediterranean?”
Steve had taken her to St. Lucia once; it had been a disaster from beginning to end, his obsessive jealousy poisoning every breath she took. She said evasively, “It must be lovely.”
You’re going to experience it very soon, thought Rafe. With me. What had started here, on an island beach, could only be continued. He took her by the hand and side by side they walked back to the car.
There were four vehicles left in the lot. A family was just getting into a red SUV, parents and a little boy.
Karyn’s eyes widened in horror. She tried to duck behind Rafe, but she was too late. The boy was waving at her. “Hey, Mum,” he yelled, “there’s Karyn!”
The woman’s head swiveled around. “Karyn,” she called, and after the smallest of hesitations walked over to them, followed by her husband and the little boy. “How nice to see you. Wasn’t the sunset beautiful?”
Passionately wishing they’d met anyone else at the beach but this particular family, Karyn quickly made the introductions. “Sheila and Duncan Harvey, and their son, Donny. This is Rafe Holden, who’s visiting from England.”
If Duncan recognized the name, he was discreet enough not to mention it. He made some commonplace remark to Rafe as Donny ran over to Karyn, grabbing her by the skirt. She ruffled his tangled red curls; he smelled of salt water and seaweed. They all chatted for a few minutes, then Duncan said heartily, “We’d better get this fella back home, it’s past his bedtime. Nice to have met you, Rafe. Karyn, we’ll see you around.”
Sheila gave Karyn a brief, hard hug. Then Karyn got into Rafe’s car as fast as she could and busied herself fastening her seat belt. Rafe got in, too. His intuition operating in high gear, he said casually, “The little guy, Donny—he’s got a crush on you?”
She bit her lip. “You could say so.”
He put his hand on her wrist. “What’s up, Karyn? There was something off-key about all that.”
Dark hair feathered his forearm; she felt that inner shiver he could arouse in her simply by existing. If he’d had her investigated, he could do the same for Steve; she wouldn’t put it past him. She said tonelessly, “My husband, Steve, saved Donny’s life when the boy fell through the ice on the river near their house. Steve saw what was happening through the window—we were neighbors of the Harveys. But after he’d lifted Donny onto the thicker ice, the current got hold of Steve and pulled him under the ice. They found his body two days later.”
Whatever Rafe had expected, it hadn’t been this. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “No wonder Sheila hugged you—and no wonder it’s difficult to see them. They must feel so incredibly grateful, yet horribly guilty at the same time. I understand perfectly why you sold the house you and Steve were living in.”
Karyn made an indeterminate noise. She was sure it hadn’t occurred to Steve that he might drown should he try and rescue a small boy from the river; Steve had never believed in his own mortality. However, the fact that he’d died in the act of saving a little boy’s life still filled her with complex and conflicting emotions. She’d been freed from the terrible prison her marriage had become, no question of that; yet his last action couldn’t help but redeem him in her eyes. It also made her feel unutterably sad.
How could she possibly explain all this to Rafe? She scarcely understood it herself. Karyn was very quiet all the way back; and Rafe was busy with his own thoughts. So Steve had been a hero, who’d lost his life saving a small boy from drowning. How could Rafe possibly fault that? Yet he was jealous of a dead ma
n.
Despicable, he thought. What kind of lowlife are you?
Doing his best to concentrate on the road, Rafe found himself for the second time wondering whether Karyn had directed him to take an unnecessary detour near Heddingley; he had an excellent sense of direction. He said nothing. After he’d parked in her driveway, he got out of the car and lifted the hamper from the trunk. “Have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow, Karyn.”
She took the hamper from him, holding it like a shield in front of her. “Good night,” she said awkwardly.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six, does that give you enough time?”
She should say no. End this now. Everything rational within her told her to do just that. “Plenty of time,” she said, turned on her heel and hurried into the house.
Rafe waited until she was indoors before driving back to his hotel in the city. He hadn’t actually lied this evening about his reasons for seeking Karyn out; just prevaricated. His father, Reginald, was a demon bridge player who early on had taught Rafe one rule: play your cards close to your chest. It was a rule that had often stood Rafe in good stead.
With Karyn, was he playing the game of his life, with passion as the wild card? Would he win or lose?
Did his happiness depend on the answer?
As soon as she got in the house, Karyn phoned her best friend, Liz Gaudet, who managed to combine being a wife, a nurse and a mother without losing either her sanity or her warmth. “Liz? This is an emergency. I’ve been invited for dinner somewhere really fancy tomorrow night. What will I wear?”
“Wow. Where? Who with?”
Karyn swallowed. “I don’t know where. I’ll be with Rafe Holden—I told you about him. My sister Fiona’s friend.”
“The filthy rich Rafe Holden?”
“Who’s used to sophisticated jet-setters in designer labels and makeup by Elizabeth Arden.”
“He hasn’t asked them out for dinner. He’s asked you. Okay, let’s think.”