Читать книгу Slow Burn - Heather Pozzessere Graham, Heather Graham Pozzessere - Страница 7

Sometimes the past seemed forever away. And sometimes, especially in dreams, it felt as if it had never gone away.

It was almost as if she was there again, on that long-ago day by the rock pit where they all congregated after school. She had been sixteen, David and some of the others were almost eighteen then. The dream had texture and taste. She could feel the stinging warmth of the sun.

It probably wasn’t such a great place for them to be. There certainly wasn’t any kind of supervision. The water was very clear, so clear that you could swim down and see all the wrecked cars that had gone off or been dumped. The boys liked to tease the girls and tell them that there were still bodies in the trunks of the cars, that there were a few skeletons still sitting right in the front seats, as well. “But we all know that’s not real,” Cecily would inform them regally. “Boys just like to scare girls. It’s easier to get into a girl’s pants if she’s scared. At least, that’s what boys think,” she assured them all.

“All” meant their group, one they had formed when they were around twelve and pretty much kept together ever since. Danny Huntington was the leader of the male pack, with Spencer’s cousin Jared coming in a close second. Then there were Ansel Rhodes and George Manger, followers to the core. And then, paradoxically a part and yet not a part, there was David Delgado.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want him in their group—they did. It was funny. When they had been even younger and Danny had first dragged him in, they’d all stuck their noses up just a bit. David just didn’t come from the same kind of family. He spoke Spanish as easily as he spoke English. He was dark; even his eyes were dark, though they were blue, not the black they often appeared. His clothes were mended and remended, and a lot of the time he couldn’t do things because he had chores to take care of for his grandfather. But he didn’t seem to resent not having a good time.

Then, suddenly, he was in school with them. He worked hard; Spencer saw him staying after school to study almost every day. It was a hard school; homework took about three hours a night. Unless, of course, you were Jared and skimmed by, paying other kids to do the work for you. But it wasn’t academics that really got David Delgado noticed—it was sheer athletic ability. The small private school had never had great baseball or football teams. With David playing, they suddenly began to win a few games. By the time they got to the rock pit on that particular afternoon, David was probably the most popular kid in the school. He could accept the acclaim that came his way, but he never sought it. He still did chores for his grandfather. He came to things when he chose and backed away when he chose, too. He was never with them at the country club dances or some of the other social events their parents planned for them.

None of that mattered, or maybe it helped. To Spencer, just like the other girls in her circle—Cecily, Terry-Sue and Gina Davis—David Delgado was even more appealing because of that little touch of something different about him. He was the kind of boy their folks didn’t quite approve of; he wasn’t one of them. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t into drugs, didn’t rob convenience stores and was a hell of a lot more moral than most of the kids in their circle. What mattered was that he didn’t come from the old guard—that he was a refugee.

Spencer didn’t give a damn. She thought it was wonderfully romantic—and erotic, a word she was beginning to find fascinating. Maybe there was something else a little bit deeper than those feelings, as well. She knew that Sly liked David. Really liked him. Not conditionally, the way her parents did. Sly just out and out liked David; it didn’t matter one iota to him whether David had come from Cuba or the moon. And for all her life, Sly had been Spencer’s favorite person. So if Sly approved of David…

Actually, that day, thinking hadn’t really entered into it. It was summer, and the heat was piercing, and they’d packed picnic lunches. Spencer had gotten a brand new cherry red Jeep for her birthday, Jared had his mom’s last-year’s Volvo, Ansel Rhodes had a new Firebird, and David had a great ‘57 Chevy he had bought himself, earning the money at a photo lab where he worked Saturdays and some afternoons.

Spencer almost wished she hadn’t gotten the damned car. She had driven that afternoon while Terry-Sue had all but crawled on top of David in the front seat of his car.

Reva was with them that day. She was in Spencer’s class, but she’d become part of the gang because of her brother. She was in school due to the same strange magic that had gotten David in, the same “scholarship.” Sly denied that he was paying their tuition, but Spencer knew in her heart that he denied it only because he didn’t want David’s hardworking grandfather to think that he couldn’t do the best for his grandchildren on his own. Sly was great about that. He never needed accolades for doing what he thought was right.

And Reva was sweet, so everyone enjoyed having her around. She had a disposition like gold; she laughed at everyone’s jokes. She was also an incredibly pretty girl, and the guys certainly appreciated that—not that any of them would consider touching her, or even cracking any of their adolescent jokes about her. Maybe David was being raised by a strange old Scottish grandfather, but he showed no lack of Cuban machismo where his sister was concerned. He watched over her like a hawk. But there was really no need, anyway. They were all friends. Just friends. Nobody was actually with anybody else.

Except for Terry-Sue, who was still climbing all over David once the cars were parked, the blankets laid out and the food baskets set up.

In her crimson bikini, lathered in suntan oil, Spencer was stretched out on one of the blankets, half in the sun, half out of it. She could feel her flesh turning hot, sticky. She could feel the heat beating down on her, then the coolness of the breeze whenever a stray cloud wandered over the sun and the pines that ringed the rock pit began to bow and sway. She pretended to be oblivious to anything but her lazy sunning. Her head was down, her back exposed, and she had an arm stretched carelessly over her eyes.

Not really.

She was watching.

Watching—and seething.

Terry-Sue was having the time of her life.

She was a cute girl with a cap of rich dark auburn hair. She was short, petite—with a chest that didn’t quit. In fact, Spencer thought, just a little bit maliciously, that Terry-Sue was just one gigantic set of boobs. It wasn’t that her bikini was any more daring than anyone else’s, but…

It was just that she spilled out of the damned thing. All over. And she had her chest just about shoved beneath David’s nose every other second.

A giggle, shrill, very feminine, crossed the air and seemed to rip right along Spencer’s spine. “David!” Terry-Sue called out in laughing protest. He’d lifted her up, her hands on his shoulders, and he was about to dunk her again. He was laughing good-humoredly. None of the guys looked as good as David. One day they might. One day. But David had matured first. His shoulders were broad, he was deeply tanned—he even had hair on his chest. His stomach was rippled, hard and flat. They were all very nearly adults, but physically, David Delgado was there, and his appeal was both sensual and sexual. Spencer had always liked him; she’d thought he’d always liked her. She’d even helped him a few times with English grammar, a subject that came to her naturally.

And since they all had to take Spanish in school, she’d sweetly asked for help back. And gotten it. If anyone was going to get any closer to David, it should be her. He didn’t spend all his time with their group; he had dated other girls, she knew. She had even spent a few nights staring at the ceiling, wondering what he did with other girls—no, women. David would go after women. He was almost two years older than she was, but girls matured faster, or so she had always been told.

Like Terry-Sue. She was definitely mature. She was so damned mature it looked like she might just topple forward with maturity at any second.

“They’re just fooling around, you know,” Spencer heard someone say. She moved her arm, startled. No one should have been able to realize that she’d been watching the horseplay in the water, but someone had. Reva. Still a little shy around them, and just a shade too darn intuitive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer said flatly. She stretched and sat up, yawning. She wasn’t about to admit to Reva that she had been watching her brother. “Hand me a Coke, will you, please, Reva?” she asked, determinded to coolly dismiss the subject.

Reva, on her knees on the blanket, reached into the cooler for a Coke. She might be shy, but she wasn’t about to be so easily dismissed. “He really likes you, Spencer. He always has.”

“Sure, we’re friends. We like each other,” Spencer said. She stood up restlessly. “Never mind the Coke. I’ll just cool off in the water.”

She could swim well, and she knew it. She could dive like an expert, as well—she should be able to, her mother had insisted on enough lessons. Now she was determined to use a little of what she knew how to do. Through training—and instinct. There was a small overhang that jutted out high over the water. A dive from there was dangerous, because there were jagged outcrops of rock surrounding very deep water. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea, since there were so many wrecks in the water.

But it was the only place where she could get any height. She strode up to the overhang with a lazy, long-legged stride. She wasn’t stupid, and not only did she not want to die, she didn’t want to wind up maimed or in pain, either, so she took a very careful look at the water as she got her bearings.

“Spencer Montgomery, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” came a shout.

She was so startled that she almost took a misstep. It was David. He was still in the water.

And Terry-Sue still had her arms around him, her “assets” crushed to his chest.

“Diving!” she called irritably.

And before he could stop her, she took the plunge.

The water, cool and fresh, enveloped her, and she knifed downward at a fantastic speed. She just missed the edge of a crashed Valiant, then managed to reverse her direction and move toward the surface. She was almost there when she felt hands on her shoulders, wrenching her up.

David.

Well, that had been the idea, hadn’t it? To attract his attention? She had it now.

Except that she didn’t want it this way.

He was glaring at her, hair wet and slicked back, features harsh. “What the hell did you think you were doing, you little fool?”

“I knew what I was doing. I can swim, I can dive!”

“And you were being a snot-nosed little show-off!” he assured her. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“And if I had,” she returned, humiliated, infuriated, “it would have been none of your goddamned business.” For a moment she thought incredulously that he was about to slap her across the cheek right then and there, while they were treading water.

“You’re right, Miss Montgomery. It’s none of my damned business. But Sly would have been upset if something had happened to you, and I happen to care a whole lot about Sly. So if you have to show off, try not to do it in front of me. We all know you’re just about perfect, Spencer. You don’t have to prove it to anyone.”

He let go of her, leaving her shaking. At least, with the water to hide her, no one could tell. Everyone was watching them from the banks of the pit, but, she thought gratefully, David hadn’t shouted. His words hadn’t been heard.

He was getting out of the water, all six feet plus of him, asking someone to toss him a towel. Spencer got out, too, chin high, determined to keep her dignity intact.

Danny came toward her, offering her a towel, a grin and a thumbs-up sign. “I wasn’t worried,” he teased softly. Like Reva, he had a disposition like gold and an encouraging grin for everyone. He could be very serious, though. Danny wanted to change the world. He had always been the idealist in their crowd. “I guess I know you too well.”

He made her smile as she accepted the towel. “I’m not feeling much like a picnic anymore. I’m going to sneak away,” she told him.

“I’d sneak away, too, except I don’t want to go home,” he admitted. He wrinkled his nose. “Mom’s there with her bridge club discussing the charity auction.”

She grinned. “I’m not going home. I’m going to Sly’s. He’s down in Key West, looking at an old place some eccentric intends to save. I’ll have the house all to myself.”

She wanted to be alone. To lick a few wounds. Danny seemed to understand. Danny always seemed to understand everything. She never got an argument from him.

She slipped away quietly.

Sly didn’t live in a rich neighborhood, certainly not like the one her parents had chosen. His house was like his business—old. It was a testament to all that he did.

It was on one of the city’s oldest golf courses, with nice—but not outrageous—houses surrounding it. It was what they called “Old Spanish,” with lots of arches, balconies and a courtyard entrance, and another courtyard to the side, surrounding the pool, which was a fairly new addition. Sly liked golf, but he liked his privacy more.

Despite the air conditioner in her brand-new Jeep, Spencer arrived at the house feeling hot and sticky and cranky. She left the car in the driveway, brought in her grandfather’s mail and set it on the Victorian buffet in the entry. Sly lived quietly, without live-in help. And he believed strongly in the work ethic, though he had told Spencer he agreed with her parents and was glad she hadn’t taken a job through high school, because keeping her grades high was just too important. “Money can be lost, young lady,” he used to tell her. “I had friends who lost everything in the Great Depression, but you know what? Even then, some of them were left with something—and that was an education. They had the know-how to pick their fannies back up out of the dirt and get going again.” But he didn’t mind letting her work a bit for him, house-sitting when he needed it, keeping an eye on his mail and bills when he wasn’t there. She fed Tiger, his fat alley cat. The arrangement worked well for her. She loved his old place; she’d learned a lot about building from him, and she appreciated the craftsmanship of the place.

She climbed the stairs to the guest room and found one of her sleeveless summer dresses in the closet, and underwear in a drawer, and ducked down the hall to the main bath, where Sly had installed a whirlpool to add to the value of the home. She turned the water to hot and the jets up as high as they would go, then stripped off her bikini and sank in, hoping the warm water would ease away some of humiliation of her encounter with David. She sank down beneath the water, letting it soak her hair.

The next thing she knew, there were hands on her shoulders. She nearly inhaled the water, she was so frightened, but he jerked her out of the water too quickly. To her amazement she found herself staring at David Delgado, still damp, still in swim trunks, but unarguably right there with her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing now?” he demanded.

She stared at him, incredulous. “I was about to wash my hair!” she responded furiously.

“What?” He sounded stunned.

“What did you think I was doing?”

He looked taken aback. Abashed. Even embarrassed. “Damn it, Spencer, I knocked about twenty times. And when I came in and found you, you were underwater and you weren’t coming up!”

“You thought I was trying to drown myself. Over you? Oh, my God! And you’re supposed to be so wonderfully humble!” she seethed.

He sat back, balancing on his ankles. His teeth were clenched, his eyes narrowed. “You really are a piece of work, aren’t you, Spencer Anne Montgomery?”

She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to feel or hear his contempt. She stared straight ahead, belatedly realizing that she was naked and feeling terribly vulnerable. She hugged her knees to her chest. “Since you think so little of me, David Delgado, I’d appreciate it if you would let yourself back out of my grandfather’s house and leave.”

He stood. He was going to leave, she realized. Just like that. He was walking away. Of course, it was what she wanted him to do. Wasn’t it?

She stood up, wrenching a huge white towel from a nearby rack and winding it around herself. He was already out in the hallway, and she followed him. “Rich doesn’t mean evil, you know!” She felt as if she were choking. She didn’t know whether she wanted to hit him or to…

He turned around, staring at her. “I came to see if you were okay. You left so quickly, I was afraid you might have hurt yourself, and I know you would have been too proud to let anyone know.”

She waited a second, trying to decide whether he was insulting her or offering her a strange compliment.

“I really did know what I was doing.”

“It was dangerous, Spencer.”

She exhaled. “Maybe. But just a little.”

They stood there in the hallway then, staring at one another. Though Spencer could feel her wet flesh growing cold in the air-conditioning, she felt hot and flushed at the same time.

“Are you going back to the rock pit?” she asked him finally.

He shrugged. “I guess not. The party’s probably broken up by now. Did you want to go back?”

“I guess not. I imagine everyone’s gone off to get something to eat by now.”

He grinned. “We were having a picnic.”

“Yeah, but you know that crowd. No ice-cream sundaes on a picnic. Too many bugs.”

“No doubt,” he agreed. He paused again. “You want to try to find them?”

She kept staring at him, wishing she knew what to say. She didn’t really want to do anything. She wanted him, his attention. No distractions.

No Terry-Sue.

She shook her head. “No. Umm, Sly’s fridge is always full.”

David nodded. “He’s got a great pool out there, too.”

“Yeah, he does. You’ve been in it, haven’t you?” She didn’t quite know David’s relationship with her grandfather, but she knew he’d been to the house.

“I’ve never been swimming here,” David said simply.

“Well, there’s always now.” She tried to say the words lightly.

“Look, if you wanted to be alone…” he began.

She shook her head. “No, really. Sly is gone for the weekend, so the place is mine. Go on out the side door. I’ll just put my suit on and join you.”

He shrugged and headed for the stairs. Spencer dived into the bathroom and plucked her bikini from the floor. She donned it in two seconds flat and went flying after David.

He was already in the water, swimming cleanly from one end of the pool to the other. She dived in after him, recklessly going straight for him. She caught his ankle, dragging him under just after he surfaced for a breath.

She jackknifed as far from him as she could while he came to the surface, sputtering, deep blue eyes glittering with laughter as they touched on her. “You do like to live dangerously, don’t you, Miss Montgomery?” he asked her.

“It’s the only way!” she called back. He kicked off the bottom, coming after her. Spencer let out a little shriek and started down the length of the pool. She was good, but he was stronger and caught up with her just as she reached the deep end. He let her get a breath, then dragged her down.

She would gladly have given up breathing altogether. His arms were around her, her body crushed flush against his. She could feel the muscles in his arms, the bones in his hips, the shape of his sex beneath his swim trunks. It was intoxicating. She’d never in her life felt anything like what she was feeling now. A strange, almost unbearable excitement.

They came to the surface together. He could stand where they were; she couldn’t. His arms remained around her, and he was looking at her. It was different from his angry look or his amused look. The water reflected a strange light in his eyes. “Spencer,” he said huskily. “You should—”

He was going to push her away. She couldn’t let it happen.

She smiled, pressing closer and parting her lips just slightly, almost whispering against his.

He groaned, and then his lips touched hers. They were incredibly hot, hungry. They brought a tidal wave of sensation. She had never felt so flushed, nor so very sure of what she wanted. She felt his tongue press into her mouth, then all but devour it. The world faded away as they kissed. It came back when she felt his hand covering her breast, holding it, feeling the weight and texture, his thumb rubbing over her nipple through the thin material of her bikini top. Something hot pulsed through her body, centering between her thighs. She had never felt so wonderful, nor could she remember ever wanting anything so badly, even though she wasn’t exactly sure what it was she wanted. Him. More and more of him. Touching her. Making her feel this wonder.

He broke the kiss, still holding her. “Oh, God, Spencer, I can’t…”

She didn’t want to hear it. “David…”

He pushed her away, swimming hard for the edge of the pool, then jumping from the water to the deck. Spencer followed him, feeling a flood of brilliant red embarrassment rush to her face. Well, that was it. She had practically thrown herself at him, and he was walking away.

She leaped from the pool, completely humiliated again—and crushed. She almost turned away to run up the stairs and throw herself on the guest bed to cry herself into oblivion. But she didn’t back away from things. And she was mad enough to have it out then and there.

“What is it, Delgado?” she demanded, keeping her voice as low and scornful as she could, her hands on her hips, her head tossed back. “I don’t come with equipment big enough to rival Terry-Sue’s?”

He’d been walking away, but that stopped him. He turned to her, dripping wet, his hands on his hips, the length of the pool between them. Then he started walking to her. “You know Spencer, I’m trying to remember that you’re younger than I am. That you’re just a naive little rich kid trying to get her own way.”

“How dare you say such a thing to me? I’ve never acted like that!”

“The hell you haven’t! You put your nose in the air every time your back is against a wall.”

“I fight any time my back is against a wall.”

“You’re Sly’s granddaughter!” he lashed up harshly.

“You’re afraid of my grandfather!” she said incredulously.

He took two menacing steps toward her, but she held her ground. “I’m not afraid of anybody, Spencer. I like Sly. I like him a hell of a lot.”

“He’s a good man,” she said coolly. “A kind one. Kind to refugees.”

It was a low blow, but she wasn’t able to stop herself.

And it had an effect on him. She could see his pulse beating furiously in his throat as he took the last few steps toward her. She was almost five foot eight, but David could stare down at her, and he did, so close that he was almost touching her, but not quite.

“What is it, Spencer? What do you want? ¡Que tu quieres?” Then his hands were on her shoulders again, forcing her to back away. “You want something different from the other light-skinned gringa girls, don’t you? You think I’ll give you something hotter? Something better? Fine, let’s go. There’s the floor. Is that what you want?”

“Stop it!” she shouted at him, shaking, longing to shove him but suddenly afraid to. She wasn’t quite sure what she had let loose. She hadn’t known that he was aware that their folks talked about him sometimes, that they hadn’t quite accepted the fact that Miami was becoming an international city. She’d never imagined that he might be sensitive about it, not David Delgado.