Coming Home

by Leslie Kelly

  “Back in a few,” she mumbled, having to move right by him to leave the kitchen. They didn't touch, yet she imagined she could feel the faintest brush of their bodies.

  The air conditioned house suddenly felt a lot hotter than it had a few minutes ago. And though her loose pajama shorts swished as she walked, the material suddenly felt a little tighter. Or she’d just become a whole lot more sensitive to every sensation against her skin.

  All because of him.

  Reaching the stairs, she paused, looked back at him, and caught his appreciative stare. He’d been ogling her butt as she walked by. She ruthlessly forced away the tiny thrill of pleasure that came with that realization.

  "Damn, Nick, you always could fill out a pair of shorts," he said with an I-can’t-help-it-I’m-male shrug.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to focus. A voice inside told her she was crazy to consider doing this. Staying away from Wyatt was not only good for her own peace of mind but for her actual sanity.

  Then she thought about the promise she’d made to her father’s doctor. Considered his health and how worried he’d be if he thought she wasn’t really taking care of his practice for him. And she knew she had to do it.

  Just a job, that’s all it is.

  Right. It was strictly work. They were driving down to look at a prize animal, that was all.

  How much trouble could she possibly get into?

  CHAPTER SIX

  She was in big trouble. Major trouble.

  Sitting with Wyatt in his truck during the ride from the airport the night she'd arrived had been bad. His animosity had smothered her with every mile. Since they'd worked together to save Winnie, however, he seemed to have gotten over his anger. On today's drive, he'd been perfectly polite—charming even. Wyatt when angry was formidable...when charming he was utterly lethal.

  They were on the highway, having just left the ranch where they'd spent a good part of the afternoon. The drive to the coast had taken two endless hours, and Nicole dreaded the return trip. She didn't know if she could defend herself if Wyatt continued to be so darned friendly.

  "So, what do you think of Tommy's Fancy?" she finally asked, breaking the silence in the cab of the truck. "Is he a suitable breeding candidate for Sultan's Daughter?"

  "I think I'd rather just buy him," Wyatt admitted.

  Nicole laughed out loud, then realized Wyatt was completely serious. "That would be a pretty major expenditure."

  "What, you think I can't afford it? I'm not hurting. Tommy's Fancy would be a very nice addition to the Four C."

  "I thought you told Brady you weren't in the market for any new stock," she finally replied.

  "Listening at key holes?"

  She shrugged. "You two were loud enough to be heard outside."

  "Well, as far as Brady goes, I wouldn't trust him to buy a mule. The man's got no sense for animals. Now, I'll give him credit, he's very good at hobnobbing with the racing set. We've made a few sales I didn't anticipate because of him."

  "Gee, you're even complimenting your cousin today. What's gotten into you?"

  He flashed her a sudden grin. "I dunno. Maybe it's the sea air. How about we stop at the beach for a quick swim?"

  Nicole laughed again, then realized he was completely serious. "But...we don't have bathing suits!"

  "There are dozens of tourist shops along the beach in St. Augustine. I'm sure we could easily find something to wear. Come on, Nick, whaddya say? I know you love to swim in the ocean."

  She couldn't respond. Her mouth went dry and her legs shook as she remembered the last time she’d been swimming with Wyatt. They'd driven down to the shore the night before he and Brady were scheduled to leave for Europe to visit Wyatt's mother and her new husband. Their relationship still a secret, Nicole had been anxious to find a place where no one they knew would spot them. She didn’t want any scenes or fighting between the cousins before they left to spend a month together overseas.

  They'd made love and held each other in the sand. They’d whispered sweet declarations, and had promised to keep in touch constantly, both for the rest of August, and for the coming year. Because, by the time Wyatt got back from Europe, Nicole would already be back in Maryland, starting her freshman year of college, and Wyatt would quickly have to get back to his university as well.

  That night had haunted her memories for a very long time. It was the last time she’d felt the absolute joy of making love with someone she loved with all her heart and soul.

  "It's been a long time," she finally managed to say.

  "Let's do it," he said as he pulled off the highway exit.

  True to his word, Wyatt found a touristy beach shop almost immediately. Nicole dug through racks of swimsuits, longing for a plain one-piece. All she could find were beach bunny bikinis. Finally, tired of Wyatt calling to her under the door of the changing room, she chose a hot pink two-piece that she'd never have been caught dead in at her club in Baltimore.

  "Finally!" he admonished when she slipped out of the dressing room with the bikini hidden behind her back. "I've already bought a couple of towels."

  Nicole quickly paid for her suit, then asked the cashier if she could change into it before leaving the store. The teenage girl at the checkout shrugged with disinterest.

  Fifteen minutes later they stood on a surprisingly un-crowded beach. It was a Sunday afternoon, on a hot summer day, but for the most part, the only other people around were surfers. Since there were no lifeguards, she assumed most of the tourists and local families had another popular spot.

  Nicole watched as Wyatt began to pull his clothes off. She couldn't seem to make her eyes move away as he caught the bottom of his tee shirt and tugged it up. Each inch of skin he revealed was tanned, smooth, finely toned.

  Her heart thudded and her breath thickened; she had trouble pushing it out of her mouth.

  His hands went to his waist, and he unfastened his jeans. Now there was no need to force every breath. She simply forgot to breathe at all.

  But as he dropped the pants to the ground, Nicole saw his long, brightly colored surfer trunks beneath them, and laughed out loud.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Nothing, I guess I just have a hard time picturing you as the 'hang ten' type," she said between chuckles.

  "They aren't my usual style," he admitted with a heavy sigh. "But average black trunks were unavailable, so it was either these or those unattractive men's bikinis. And, aside from the fact that I wouldn’t be caught dead in one, I doubted I could find one that would fit."

  He grinned an evil grin, forcing her mind to remember exactly how he was built. She shivered in spite of the heat of the day. No, she didn't imagine some skimpy suit would ever have covered Wyatt Clayton.

  "Cool it," she muttered under her breath.

  She couldn't. She tried forcing a smile to her lips, but it faded as she studied the trunks hanging below the tan line on his lean hips. The hair on his chest tapered down to a soft covering on his flat belly, and disappeared into the waistband of his suit. Wyatt turned around to lay his shirt on the towel, and Nicole saw how the soft material cupped his taut butt. She nearly groaned out loud.

  She bit her lip as she watched him turn and walk toward her, his muscles rippling beneath his skin with each step. Nicole shivered again. Raw lust coursed through her veins, so unfamiliar she nearly didn't recognize it. The last time she'd felt such sharp—nearly painful—physical desire had been with this same man, on a beach near here, a long time ago.

  "Well? Are you coming?" he asked softly.

  She nearly snapped back a very sexual retort, but bit her tongue in time. She wasn’t going to allow Wyatt to see how much the sight of him affected her. No way would he ever know her body was betraying her mind and she'd consider dropping to the sand with him in a heartbeat with just a little provocation--one kiss, a touch, a hot, thorough stare. Hell, a single word.

  Damn, she was in trouble.

  Not willing to acknowledge it, she tore
her attention off him and began to strip out of her own clothes. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, merely watching as she lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head. A loud squawk of a seagull sounded overhead, but just before it had broken the silence, she’d have sworn she heard him groan softly. She heard the sound again when she pushed her shorts off her hips to reveal the tiny pink bikini bottoms.

  “Jesus, Nick…”

  Suddenly feeling every one of her many bared inches of skin, she tilted her head back, willing him not to think she’d bought the suit just to try to catch his interest.

  And interested he was. He didn’t seem able to tear his gaze off her. He lifted a hand, rubbing it over his square jaw, and swallowed hard.

  Heat swirled between them and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the air. This came strictly from inside them. It was old—primal—and powerful. Heaven help them, after all they'd been through, and all the years that had passed, they both wanted to fall together on the sand and give in to the powerful hunger encompassing them. She knew it. He knew it. They didn’t have to speak it.

  The possibility hung there for a second. Only, of course, it wasn’t possible. They weren’t alone on the beach, anyone could walk by. And a huge amount of baggage stood between them, creating a nearly insurmountable barrier.

  Finally, releasing a hissed breath through his teeth, he muttered, “Ready?”

  She nodded, turning toward the ocean. Wyatt, with his long-legged stride, reached the water first, not waiting for her, as if he didn’t quite trust himself to. By the time she hit the foamy surf, he was already several yards away, jeweled drops of wet sunshine sparkling on that smooth, delicious-looking skin.

  The surf wasn't too rough and the ocean's temperature did a lot to cool Nicole, both mentally and physically. Wyatt splashed her and swam out further, his strong arms cutting evenly through the waves as he paralleled the shore. She treaded water, watching him silently.

  "Too bad we don't have a surf board," he teased as he swam back toward her. "You used to say you wanted to learn how."

  "Who needs a board?"

  Eyeing an approaching wave, Nicole dove toward shore, allowing the surf to push her on top of the water. She sensed Wyatt right beside her and kicked her feet to propel herself ahead of him. She enjoyed herself thoroughly...right up until the second the current caught her bathing suit top. Feeling the ties giving way around her back, she cursed the new bikini and immediately dropped beneath the surface. Unfortunately, she'd ridden the wave too close to shore and could feel rough sand and rocks only a couple of feet beneath her. No way could she stand up. Nearly out of breath, she lifted her head out to gulp a mouthful of air.

  "Problem?" Wyatt asked with an amused grin.

  "Not at all," she snapped.

  He stood just a few feet away, staring down at her. She suddenly wondered what anyone watching from shore would think. She was practically lying at his feet in the shallow water. And he looked like some pagan sun god...all brown, hard and glistening, with water sluicing off the rippled muscles of his chest. Only the orange and green trunks proclaimed he wasn't some mythical specimen of manhood.

  She wished she had a free hand to throw a clump of sand at him. But both her hands were occupied keeping her bathing suit from riding away on the surf.

  Squirming, she shot him a dirty look, then reached behind her back to tie the flimsy bikini straps. Nicole managed to keep her head above water, and her body completely beneath it, balancing carefully on her knees, until another wave hit her. She was sucked in the undertow, her bathing suit forgotten as her hip scraped painfully along the rocky bottom.

  Wyatt, watching her from above, had initially been amused by Nicole’s predicament. He'd seen her horrified grimace when she came up out of the water, and the way she held her arms protectively across her chest. But when a wave knocked her flat and sucked her under, he stopped laughing.

  "Nicole? Where are you?" he asked as he scanned the surface, watching for her head to break through.

  Finally, after a few long seconds, he saw her a few yards away, sitting up in the shallows. Her bathing suit top was mostly in place, though he could see a tempting strip of pale flesh on the side of her right breast. Gulping, Wyatt quickly splashed over to her. "Are you all right?"

  Her nod was accompanied by a wince. He reached down and held out his hand to help her stand up.

  "I think everything's covered," she muttered as she took his hand.

  "Want me to check?"

  "I somehow suspect you already have."

  "Guilty," he admitted with a chuckle.

  As they through the surf, Nicole visibly winced again. Realizing she was in pain, he followed her gaze as she looked at her hip. A wide, ugly, red scrape was clearly visible, from just under her ribcage down into her bikini bottoms. Another scrape marred her outer thigh, from her hip all the way down to the back of her knee. Several flecks of blood oozed over her skin, and he saw bits of sand and rock embedded in the cuts.

  "You’re bleeding!” Not waiting for permission, he bent down and picked her up in his arms, knowing it must hurt like hell to walk.

  "This is silly, it's just a scrape," she said as he stepped out of the water.

  Reaching their things, Wyatt gently knelt down and placed her on one of the new, brightly colored beach towels. She bent her knee and twisted to see the side of her leg, her face suddenly going a little pale despite the bright sunshine.

  "Here, I've got some clean water. I picked up a bottle in the store," Wyatt said.

  She reached for the bottle, but he held it away from her. "Lie back."

  "I'm not an invalid."

  "Just do it."

  She reached for the bottle again. “I can…”

  “Dammit, Nick, will you let me help you? When did you get so stubborn?"

  "Hurt me and you'll pay, pal," she muttered as she finally relented and leaned back to let him look at the scrapes.

  He gently poured water on her, frowning when he heard her hiss in pain. Most of the sand and blood washed away under the flow of the liquid, but he needed a cloth to finish the job. He grabbed his dry shirt, poured more water on it and gently wiped at the bits of rock sticking to her skin.

  When he finished cleaning the cuts on her thigh, he moved up to work on the scrape on her midriff. Wyatt found himself staring intently at her ribcage, rising and falling as she took deeper and deeper breaths. He deliberately did not look anywhere else…not at her pain-wracked face, not at her tense, soft, amazing body.

  But despite the fact that he was helping her, that soft, amazing body grew more stiff with every second. He saw the flex of her muscles under her supple skin. Wondering if he was hurting more than helping, he raised his eyes to stare into hers.

  He didn’t see pain. No. This was pure, unfiltered need.

  Her lips fell apart slightly and she moistened them with her soft, pink tongue. And he was done. Just…done. Done with resisting, done with pretending. Done with being angry.

  Right now, it was taste her or die and not another thing under the sun mattered a damn.

  He didn't pause for a moment to consider it before he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Her soft lips welcomed him and Wyatt felt like he'd come home after a long time away.

  She turned her head slightly and he took advantage, urging her lips further apart as his tongue sought hers. She tasted him back, slow and hot, and so unbelievably good.

  Wanting to feel her body against his, he slid his arm around her back and pulled her tighter against him. She flinched and jerked back.

  "Oh, God, Nicole, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" He pulled away, shocked he could have forgotten about her cuts when he pulled her close.

  Nicole shook her head quickly. “I’m fine. We should probably go.”

  That was when he realized she wasn’t in pain. Not physical pain anyway. She regretted the kiss. But he wasn't about to lie to himself—he didn't regret one second of it.

  "Are you sure you
’re all right?" he asked, wondering if the small goose bumps he saw on her chest and shoulders were caused by pain, by cold or, more likely, by heat.

  She didn't answer. Her mouth tightened as her gaze fell to his chest, separated from hers by only inches of hot summer air.

  "You gonna punch me?" he teased, wanting to lighten the moment before she had a chance to fly off the handle about the kiss.

  "Don't laugh," she retorted. "I don't punch like a girl anymore."

  "I'm shakin' in my shoes."

  She finally smiled in response to his grin. Nicole appeared glad he didn't mention what had just happened between them. Of course, it wasn't like he felt like talking about it, either. He was still trying to figure out when his feelings toward her had changed from resentment to bone-melting desire. Then again, he silently admitted, he'd never really stopped desiring Nicole Ross. He'd never in his life found as much pleasure with a woman as he had those few weeks during his twentieth summer.

  "You've ruined your shirt," she said glancing toward the wet, blood-stained shirt he still held in his hands.

  "I've got dozens. Come on, let's get you outta here. You probably should put some ointment on that. Why don't we stop at the store and pick something up on the way."

  Nicole nodded, relieved they would be getting away from the beach. Her head still felt woozy. She hadn't hit it on the ocean floor, but it sure felt that way. She hadn't been so confused and disoriented in years.

  It was his kiss. He'd done exactly what she'd been fantasizing about while he tended her wounds. It had been torture watching his long, strong fingers gently touching her skin, watching that thick lock of dark hair fall over his brow while he concentrated on what he was doing. And then he'd looked up and kissed her before she even had time to pretend to protest.

  Kissing Wyatt today was every bit as mind-blowing as it had been when she was a teenager. Nicole had dated other men over the years, even had one serious relationship, but she'd never felt her world rock in the arms of any man except Wyatt.