“He left me a legacy, Caroline,” he said roughly. “A helluva legacy.”
He brushed past her and went upstairs. Slowly she followed and went into her room. Peeling off her robe, she lay down on the bed, thinking that there was no way she would ever rest again.
But when the telephone rang a while later, she was bemused and disoriented with sleep as she picked up the receiver and brought it to her ear.
“Hello.”
She listened for no more than an instant before dropping the phone and racing for the door of her room, not even taking time to put on her robe. Her bare feet flew over the hardwood floors in the dark hallway. She barged through the door of Rink’s room and raced toward the bed. Her hands landed in the middle of his bare back.
“Rink, Rink, wake up.”
He rolled over and stared up at her in disbelief. Her eyes were dilated, her hair was wild, her breasts were heaving, almost spilling out of her nightgown. “What—”
“The gin’s on fire!”
Both his feet hit the floor at the same time, almost knocking her over in the process. He grabbed up a pair of jeans that were folded over a chair. “How do you know?”
“Barnes called.”
“Is it bad?”
“He couldn’t say yet.”
“What about the fire department?”
“Already notified.”
“What the hell is going on in here?” Haney demanded from the doorway as she knotted the sash of her robe around her waist. “It sounded like y’all were playing basketball and—”
“The gin’s on fire.”
“Lord o’ mercy.”
Caroline left Rink’s room at a run. He was almost dressed and she intended to go with him. She pulled on the first clothes her hands came into contact with, an old shirt and a pair of denim cutoffs. She crammed her feet into a pair of sandals. Not exactly a firefighting outfit, but she could already hear Rink’s boots thudding down the stairs. She bounded after him.
“Rink, wait!”
“You stay here,” he shouted over his shoulder as he ran out the front door.
“Like hell.” She was right behind him.
“What’s going on?” Laura Jane, looking like a doll with her pale pink nightgown and wide eyes, trailed down the stairs.
“The gin is on fire and Rink and Caroline are going to see that it’s put out right away,” Haney explained.
“The gin is on fire?” she repeated.
Rink’s curses would have burned the ears off a sailor as he pumped the motor of his pickup to life. Haney and Laura Jane stood together on the porch, their arms around each other, while Caroline demanded that he unlock the passenger door.
“You’re not going!” he roared.
“If you don’t open this door, I’ll just follow in my car and then you won’t know where I am.”
Obscenities poured from his mouth, but he pushed open the door and she climbed in.
Steve had heard the ruckus and was crossing the yard with his limping gait. He was pulling on a T-shirt. “What’s going on?”
“A fire at the gin,” Caroline shouted back.
“I’ll help.”
“No, Steve!” Laura Jane cried.
“Steve, you stay with Laura Jane and Haney,” Caroline told him through the cab window.
“That’s right. You stay,” Rink said succinctly. The truck was idling now, but Steve was holding onto the door handle and Rink couldn’t accelerate.
Meeting Rink’s eyes squarely Steve said forcefully, “You’ll need my help more than they will. I’m going.”
“Steve!” Laura Jane catapulted herself off the porch and flung herself toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Don’t go. I’m frightened for you.”
“Hey,” he said, tilting back her head. “I’m counting on you to keep Haney calm and to have a big breakfast waiting for us when we get back. Okay?”
She beamed up at him. “Okay, Steve. Be careful.”
“I will.” He kissed her swiftly on the mouth then gently pushed her away before ducking into the cab next to Caroline.
For a moment Rink stared hard at the man, then he jammed the toe of his boot onto the accelerator pedal and the truck screeched out of the drive.
They had much to be grateful for. The fire was a small one and it was contained in only one part of the building. Thanks to Barnes’s quick action, the fire engines were already there when Rink arrived.
Heedlessly, Caroline ran into the building to make sure the bookkeeping ledgers were secure in the office. Rink ran after her, caught her around the waist and pulled her out, kicking and protesting. When she was somewhat subdued, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard.
“Don’t ever do anything that stupid again. You scared the hell out of me.” After seeing the fierce expression on his face, she wouldn’t have thought of disobeying him.
There was plenty to do. Rink supervised the volunteers in moving the bales of cotton still on the loading dock out of harm’s way. Steve, despite his leg, worked harder than any of them. Caroline kept spectators out of the way. She reassured them that no one had been in the building. In two hours the flames had been doused.
She and Rink were summoned by the fire chief and sheriff. “It was arson, Rink,” the fire chief said. “They made it happen, but your antiquated wiring helped it along.”
Rink ran a blackened hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know it was in sad shape. Was there much damage?”
“Nothing compared to what it could have been if we hadn’t caught it in time.”
“Thank God most of the cotton had already been baled and sent to the warehouse.” Now that she had stopped moving, Caroline realized how tired she was.
“Do you know who might have set the fire, Mrs. Lancaster?’ the sheriff asked her.
“I do.” It was the foreman, Barnes, who answered. “It was one of ‘em who set it that called me. I figured he realized what he’d been a part of and chickened out at the last minute. He didn’t identify himself, but I’m sure it was one of the guys you fired a few weeks back, Rink.”
At the sheriff’s request Rink named the men whom he had fired. The peace officer scratched his ear. “Mighty unsavory bunch. What were they doing working for you?”
“They didn’t work for me. They worked for my father,” Rink said. He glanced down at Caroline and saw the droop of her shoulders. “If that’s all for now, I’d like to take Caroline home.”
“Sure thing. We’ll be in touch when we have something.”
Steve opted to ride in the bed of the truck on the way home. He sprawled on his back and didn’t move until Rink pulled the pickup to a stop outside the back door. Haney and Laura Jane tumbled out of it as though they’d been waiting for the first sign of them.
Rink went around to open Caroline’s door and she all but fell out of the cab and into his arms. Steve eased himself off the tailgate just in time to catch Laura Jane as she ran into his arms, disregarding the soot and grime that covered him.
“Are you all right, Steve?”
“Sure, I’m fine.”
“Well, you don’t look fine,” Haney snapped. “Lordy, Lordy, look at the three of you. I never saw such a motley crew. Y’all go get a bath and I’ll have breakfast waiting for you.”
They straggled toward the house. Laura Jane released Steve reluctantly and he headed toward his apartment.
“Steve.” The veteran halted and turned to face Rink, who had stopped on his way through the back door to address the man. “Thanks,” Rink said.
“You’re welcome,” Steve replied.
Their eyes held for a long time, then they smiled broadly at each other.
Laura Jane’s eyes melted with love for her two heroes. Haney sniffed back threatening tears. Caroline squeezed Rink’s arm in approval.
Upstairs in her room she peeled off her clothes and let them fall to the tile floor of her bathroom. She would have to throw them away. The smell of smoke would never wash out. She o
nly hoped she could get it out of her hair.
Several doses of shampoo accomplished that. She stood under the shower’s pulsing spray and let the warm water wash away the filth and stench of the fire. When at last she turned off the taps, she felt herself again. Stepping over the pile of clothes, too weary to pick them up, she wound her hair in a towel. She had just wrapped herself in a terry-cloth robe when someone knocked on her door.
“Come in.”
She had expected Haney or Laura Jane. That it could be Rink never entered her mind. But that was who stepped into her room, holding a tray laden with a steaming carafe of coffee and a glass of orange juice.
“Haney thought you might want to start with this before you come down.”
His mind wasn’t on what he was saying. The words found their own stumbling way out of his mouth because all his concentration was devoted to the woman with her hair wound in a damp towel and a wrapper barely concealing the curves of her body. Her skin was dewy. She smelled of honeysuckle-scented soap. Her eyes were large and luminous in her face as she stared back at him. There was a slight catch in her voice when she spoke.
“Thank you. The coffee smells good.”
She, too, was distracted. Rink’s hair was wet and clung in sculpted strands to his head. He was wearing only a pair of tight, faded jeans that rode low beneath his navel and emphasized his sex. His muscled chest was furred with dark, damply curling hair. His eyes glowed warmly as they watched her.
He set the tray on the table, but made no effort to leave. Later it was difficult to say who had moved first. Had he raised his arms a fraction, spread his hands wide as if to receive her? Or had she taken a tentative step first? They didn’t remember. All they could recall was that suddenly she was in his arms and he was holding her tight.
Tears streamed from her eyes and she clung to him. All the fear and anxiety of the last few hours rained from her eyes. He whipped the towel from her head and dropped it to the floor. His hands plowed through her wet hair and pressed her face against the hard warmth of his chest His head bent over her.
“We have unfinished business, you and I, Caroline.”
She raised her tear-glossed eyes to his. She smiled softly. “Yes, we do.”
“And it’s long overdue,” he said quietly, letting his thumbs brush the tears from her flushed cheeks.
“Too long overdue.”
Reaching behind him, he pushed the door closed.
Chapter 11
The catching of the door latch was the only sound in the room. There were no artificial lights on. The sun was just beginning to tint the eastern horizon and only that ethereal light came through the sheer drapes. The lemony perfume of magnolia wafted in from the large tree outside.
She went into his arms, no longer a girl but a woman needing what he had to give, needing to give of herself.
He was warm. So warm. There was a vibrancy in his body that she had recognized the first time she’d seen him. She had always gravitated toward it She did so now. Wanting that energy to surge through her as it did him, she snuggled close, folding her arms around his lean waist. The hair on his chest tickled her nose. Against the hard curve of his breast, she smiled.
Rink held her tight. His eyes closed with sublime contentment He explored her through touch. His hands examined the slender curves of her back. They slid below her neat waist to the soft fullness of her derriere. He cupped her gently in his hands, squeezed lightly, stroked soothingly, pressed arousingly.
His manhood reacted and they both felt it. Their soft gasps of pleasure echoed each other.
“Caroline, Caroline,” he breathed into her wet hair before he pushed her away only far enough to duck his head and seal her open lips with his. Their mouths melded together with soft moistness. Their tongues touched. She allowed him the male privilege of dominance and his tongue slid into her mouth. It was a symbolic possession and he made no apology for it. His tongue loved her with lazy thoroughness, darting and flicking, delving and feathering.
All her senses whirred to life. They hummed softly deep inside her. Then, gaining momentum with each thrust of his tongue, they spun faster and faster until her whole body was singing a new song.
She was inundated with sensations. His hair coiled around her fingers as she caressed the back of his head. The soap he had showered with, his brisk, clean cologne, his own special scent, filled her nostrils, her head, intoxicatingly. With gentle plucking motions of her lips against his, she tasted the minty flavor of toothpaste. The soft moans of arousal and the love words he rasped with ragged breaths thrilled her and made her confident.
And she knew that even without intercourse, she was one with this man. Always had been, always would be. Fate had decreed it From the moment she first saw him twelve years ago, her destiny had been charted.
Lifting his head, he placed his hands on her shoulders and separated himself from her by several inches. Her smoky eyes shimmered as she looked up into his, which were hazy with swirling gold. Slowly, he unzipped his
jeans and pushed them down over his hips. Then, his eyes never leaving hers, he peeled them off and tossed them aside. He stood before her naked.
Her eyes drifted over him. Had she been a man, she would have envied him his physique. He was hard and lean and lithe. His chest was magnificently proportioned. The dark hair that covered it grew in intriguing patterns her fingers longed to explore. The wide fan of body hair tapered to a sleek black ribbon that bisected his flat stomach, whorled around his navel and disappeared into the dense thatch that surrounded his manhood.
It was hard, full, as proud as the man.
Rivers of life coursed through her heart as she studied him. Momentarily she closed her eyes against waves of dizziness. She felt faint. A desire so intense that she thought she might die of it seized her. It was an honest lust one sanctioned by love because it was only part of why she loved him.
“Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes and saw him smiling down on her. She laughed in a maidenly, shy way. “Yes. Yes, Rink. I’m all right It’s just that you’re so very beautiful and I want you so much.”
He kissed her lips with chaste tenderness. “Thank you for the compliment. I’ll see what we can do about the other.”
He sought the sash of her robe and caught it between his fingers. He tugged on it and it came undone. Moving with deliberate slowness, he inserted his hands beneath the wide lapels and eased the robe aside.
“My God, look at you.” His murmur was all but soundless as he gazed at her breasts. As though he couldn’t believe all of her could be as perfect, he quickly divested her of the robe and let his eyes roam freely and eagerly over her nakedness. His eyes were wildly excited as they devoured her.
Then his fingertips, lightly, so lightly she could barely feel his touch, took the same path as his eyes. They skimmed the creamy flesh of her breasts, the smooth expanse of stomach, belly and hip. They fanned the dark nest of hair between the slender columns of her thighs. “God, you’re beautiful. Beautiful and sweet.”
She felt the earnestly whispered words against her flesh as he dipped his knees to lower his face to her breasts. Worshipfully he cupped one in his hand and massaged it She raised her hands and laid them softly on his hair. She inclined toward him, swaying slightly.
He kissed her. With his thumb he outlined the areola, touched the nipple. It flushed beneath his deft strokes. He looked at it smiled a quick, fleeting smile, then leaned forward and applied his tongue. Again and again, his tongue circled over the velvety button.
“Rink.” His name was a pleading sigh. He heeded it.
He took her nipple between his lips and suckled it. Caroline emitted a sharp, startled cry and arched her back to give him greater access. His cheeks flexed as he drew on her gently. He treated her other breast to the same delicious torment until she was whimpering and clutching at his hair.
“Sweetheart.” He buried his face between her breasts as he had longed to do so many times. Splaying
his hands wide over her back, he drew her as close as they could get. He hugged her hard for endless moments, then straightened. Adoringly his eyes wandered over her face. He lifted one of her hands to his mouth, kissed the palm and spoke against it. “Touch me. Please.”
He carried her hand to that part of him that strained with life, life he wanted to share with her. When he withdrew his hand, hers remained. With her heart in her throat lest she do something displeasing, she closed her fingers around him.
“Ah, God.” Whispering her name and endearments like a chant, he covered her hand with his own and instructed her on what gave him pleasure until he couldn’t bear any more. His breath was loud in her ear when he groaned, “Caroline, darling… better stop.”
Trapping her face between his hands, he kissed her fiercely, his tongue plunging deeply. Not ending the kiss, he lowered her to the bed and followed to cover her body with his. She accommodated him and he nestled his hips in the cove of her parted thighs. His belly meshed with hers, his chest settled against the mounds of her breasts.
The kisses he planted on her throat and neck were hot and moist. “If I wait much longer—”
“Don’t wait,” she said quickly, arching against his hardness.
But it had taken twelve years to get there and Rink wanted to experience all of it without rushing. His hands glided over her breasts. Her nipples were ripe for the tender finessing of his fingertips. He replaced his fingers with his mouth, kissing and licking and nuzzling her breasts until she was almost delirious.
He levered himself above her. His hand smoothed down her stomach, her abdomen, marveling at the fabulous texture of her skin. Then his fingers encountered her fleecy delta and luxuriated in it. He laid his palm over it and let his fingers curve downward between her thighs. They came away dewy with her desire.
He leaned away from her and guided himself to the very threshold of her femininity. They watched each other, watched the play of intense feeling flicker across one another’s faces each time the velvety tip of his manhood touched that magic spot. Beyond pride and shame, she touched her hands to his chest and curled her fingers into the mat of hair.
Bitter Sweet Rain Page 17