Читать книгу An Inconvenient Husband - Karen Van Der Zee - Страница 8
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
PARALYZED by fear, Nicky felt herself being carried through the hall and living room and out the front door. She was gasping for breath as the two powerful arms that held her pressed her face forcefully against a hard chest. She started struggling, kicking her legs, but she. was nothing more than a doll in the steely grip.
“Not a sound or we’re both dead!” growled a low voice, the tone deadly and ominous. A voice intimately familiar.
Fear flooded out of her. “Blake?” she asked, but her voice was smothered by his chest, barely audible.
“Quiet!” .
His chest was warm and solid against her face. For a fleeting moment she had an odd sense of déjà vu—as if once before she’d been carried off like this in the dark of night.
She heard the pumping of his heart against her cheek and her senses reeled with the familiar warm male scent of him, overwhelming for one delirious moment all other thought.
He pushed her almost roughly into the back seat ,of a car, slid in beside her, giving an order to the driver and before she could catch her breath they were tearing down the drive.
She was panting, her throat raw. “What the hell is this all about?” She struggled for the words, rubbing at a scratch on her arm where a branch had scraped the skin, her confusion greater than her fear now. They were in a taxi, she realized, and going at great speed.
“Be quiet,” he said on a low note, warning in his voice. “Later.” He glanced out the back window.
“Later what? Where are you taking me?” she demanded. “Are you insane, what is this all about?”
Steely eyes met hers. “I said be quiet.” His voice was ominously low. “You’ll be fine as long as you act normally.”
She suppressed a hysterical little laugh. Sure, no sweat. She was used to being carried off into cars against her will. Of course she would act normally. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispered fiercely.
His silence was eloquent.
She hated his superior manner. She hated him. This, of course, was nothing new. She had entertained about this man every emotion known to mankind, except one: physical fear. And she wasn’t afraid of him now, which, under the present circumstances, was something to be grateful for.
She closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. Her whole body was trembling with shock and she felt the terrible urge to break down in tears or, alternatively, scream at Blake in fury. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to do either.
Who was Blake to kidnap her out of her father’s house? Why in the world would he want to? It didn’t make sense. She thought of the ransacked room and shivered. Nothing made sense. She thought of her father, seeing again the worry edged in his face and her stomach twisted with anxiety. Something was wrong.
Something indeed was very wrong.
Could this possibly have something to do with that business deal he’d been having trouble with? Unscrupulous, he had called the Hong Kong company. It was not a nice word. In fact, it was a frightening word. She thought of her ravaged room and shivered again, her mind in chaos. But why would Blake be involved? What could Blake possibly have to do with it? It was crazy; it made no sense at all.
Fear and anger fought for dominance in her mind. Why hadn’t her father told her what was going on? Why was he always treating her as if she were a child who should not be bothered by her parents’ problems? Well, she knew why. She was the baby of the family, and the only daughter. Her parents and three older brothers all had treated her like a princess, and although she wouldn’t dare complain about the love and nurture she had received as a child, she wouldn’t mind being respected as a mature adult now that she’d reached the ripe age of twenty-seven.
The car stopped and she opened her eyes. There were lights and people. More cars. People laughing. They were in front of what appeared to be a luxury hotel.
“Come along.” Blake helped her out of the car, putting an arm around her when she almost lost her balance. His face was close to hers. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said under his breath, apparently not wanting the driver to overhear him. “You’re safe as long as you do what I say.”
She stiffened. This was not the man she remembered. He had never ordered her around before, never told her what to do, never made any demands. He’d considered her an independent person who made her own choices and decisions. She wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
She felt dazed and disoriented. With his hand on her shoulder Blake propelled her through the cool, sumptuous hotel lobby. Crystal chandeliers, soft piano music, people in beautiful clothes, mingling, laughing. It all seemed to come from a distance, unreal. Then she found herself in a mirrored elevator.
Her reflection shocked her. She looked like a madwoman, her hair wild, her clothes dirty and sweaty from the day’s exploration of the city’s hot, crowded markets and streets. The elevator zoomed up, stopped. They got off. She moved as if in a trance, down a carpeted corridor, past endless doors. Blake stopped in front of one of the rooms and slid a small plastic card into a slot in the lock. The door open, he nudged her ahead of him into the room. She took in the big bed, the desk, a cozy seating arrangement near the window. Soft carpeting under her feet. Everything clean and comfortable.
She turned to face him, clenching her hands into fists by her side and anchoring her feet to the floor to keep them from trembling. “I want to know what this is all about!” she demanded, hearing an unfamiliar, shrill tone in her voice. Anger heated her blood and she could no longer contain it—anger mixed with a terrible fear, and other feelings she couldn’t even begin to analyze. “What the hell is going on? Why did you bring me here?”
“Don’t yell at me,” he said coolly.
She almost stomped her foot. “I’ll damn well yell if I want to! I’ll scream!” She couldn’t believe her own behavior. What possessed her? It was as if someone else had taken over, some wild creature driven in a corner, terrified and helpless.
“Calm down and we’ll talk.” He turned his back on her and picked up a bottle of Scotch standing on a tray on the dresser.
“Calm down?” she raged. “Are you out of your mind? You expect me to calm down after my room has been turned upside down and I’ve been kidnapped?”
“I did not kidnap you. I rescued you.”
“Rescued me? From what? I want to know what’s going on!”
He poured Scotch in two glasses. “I’ll tell you what I know, but not until you get yourself under control.”
She nearly choked on her words. “How dare you treat me this way!” she said to his back. “How dare you just carry me off! What’s got into you? Are you the one who destroyed my room?” Even as she said it, she knew the idea was preposterous. Under no circumstances could she imagine Blake turning over drawers, going through closets. It didn’t fit his code of ethics.
He turned and gave her a dark look. “No, I did not,” he said sharply. “A couple of hired thugs from Hong Kong did. They were waiting in the bushes for you to come home and kidnap you. I thought I’d better beat them to it.”
Her heart skidded to a stop, rushed on again in a frantic rhythm. Her knees buckled and she sat down on the edge of the big bed. Fear overtook her anger. “This is insane,” she whispered. “Why?”
“After you left the party last night, I had another talk with your father. I gathered he unknowingly inherited a bad situation from his predecessor—an unfortunate business deal with a less than reputable firm in Hong Kong. They’re running a scam and he’s trying to back out of the contract. They’re not very happy about it.”
Her heart lurched. “I knew there was something wrong! He just didn’t want to tell me. He kept saying it wasn’t anything to worry about.”
“Well, it was. More so than he suspected, I imagine. They wanted him to change his mind about breaking the contract. Apparently they thought kidnapping you might give him the right incentive.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
He added ice to the glasses and handed her one. “Drink this. It will calm your nerves.”
“I don’t like whiskey,” she said shakily..
“I know, but it’s all I have.” He gave her a wry smile. “I had not counted on entertaining my ex-wife in my hotel room tonight.”
Certainly no signs of any such plans, she had to admit. No candles or flowers or champagne cooling in a bucket of ice. He hadn’t touched her for his own selfish, carnal reasons—like a hero in a novel. A hero, who, seeing his old love unexpectedly at a party, was overwhelmed by remorse over the past and, gripped by new passion, had kidnapped her. That’s only the way it went in stories. She was deranged even to have that fleeting thought.
He sat down in a chair and stretched out his legs. He was wearing gray slacks and a short-sleeved silk shirt, and did not look to be in the grip of passion. He looked exhausted, which was not surprising. Abduction was a tiring business, no doubt. Still, tired or not, he looked tough and masculine, and very sexy with his hair disheveled and his face full of dark shadows.
She sipped the whiskey, wincing, feeling the stuff burn down her throat.
“What kind of business deal was this?” she asked then.
He raked a weary hand through his hair. “An investment deal for the construction of an electronics plant in China. As I said, your father discovered that the Hong Kong firm was running a scam.”
“So what is your part in all this, then?” It didn’t make sense. Why should Blake be involved? He hadn’t worked with her father for years. It was only coincidence they were in Malaysia at the same time.
His mouth curved down, as if he mocked himself. “I was the unfortunate bystander propelled into a rescue mission,” he said dryly.,
“Unfortunate bystander?” What was that supposed to mean?
He quirked a dark brow. “You don’t think I went through this exercise just for the fun of it, do you?”
“No, of course not. Abducting your ex-wife to entertain her for the evening—what a nightmare of an idea.”
He gave her an impenetrable look, saying nothing.
“So why did you do it?” she asked harshly. “Why not let them take me? Why did you care?” It was a bitchy, bitter question and she was sorry the moment the words were out. She was not a bitchy, bitter person. Oh, God, she sure hoped not.
He stared at her, a sudden, hot flash of anger in his eyes. “Oh,” he answered coldly, “I always rescue maidens in distress. Besides, I found myself with nothing better to do for the evening.”
The flash of anger disturbed her. He was a man of superb control, but her nasty remark had hit him wrong. She took another sip of the whiskey. The only way to drink the stuff was to consider it medicine and she felt in need of some sort of potion to stabilize her wrecked equilibrium.
“How did you know about all of this? I mean, if you’re not involved.”
He grimaced. “By sheer coincidence. I happened to . overhear a conversation. I had trouble believing what I was hearing, but there was only one conclusion to be drawn.” He shrugged and took a long drink from his whiskey.
“What conversation? Who was talking?”
“I was in a restaurant at the Hilton, waiting to meet a friend for dinner. He was late and two men at the next table were talking. I heard your father’s name and consequently gave them my full attention, which was fortunate. They discussed their plans to have you escorted to Hong Kong tonight. Some hired help was going to do the honors. It seemed a good idea for me to abandon friend and dinner and to abort the gentlemen’s plans if I wasn’t too late already.” He tossed back the last of his drink. “Just a cosmic little joke for me to overhear this,” he finished derisively.
Characteristically, he’d told her the story in a few brief sentences. He’d never been a man of many words. He rubbed his neck. “We’d better call your father. He told me he’d be in Singapore tonight. Do you know which hotel he’s staying at?”
“The Mandarin,” she said, feeling numb. It was too much to grasp, this outrageous story. Not so outrageous. You read similar tales in the papers, heard them on TV It just seemed crazy because it was happening to her. There was no reason to think Blake was lying. She finished the whiskey and put down the glass.
Blake had asked information for her father’s hotel number and was dialing. He held out the receiver to her.
“You want to talk to him first?”
She shook her head. “You know what happened. You tell him.” She listened as he told her father what had happened, assuring her father she was safely with him at the hotel. There was silence for a while.
“Yes, of course. No problem,” Blake said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know” He handed the receiver to Nicky. “He wants to talk to you.”
She took in a deep breath to steady herself.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Thank God you’re all right” His voice sounded rough with emotion. “I’ll get the police on this immediately. I had no idea they’d go to these lengths, but they’ll pay hell for this. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Who are these people doing this? What kind of people are they? Dad, I want you to tell me!”
“It’s complicated, princess. I misjudged the seriousness of it, and if something would have happened to you I would never have forgiven myself.”
Getting a clear answer was too much to hope for.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, either, Dad!” Again that shrill tone in her voice. “Please be careful!”
“Oh, I’ll be careful. Don’t you worry about me. But do me a favor. You’ve got to get out of town. Do what Blake tells you to do.”
Do what Blake tells you to do. She would have laughed if she hadn’t felt so shaky. Her father would trust Blake, of course. They’d worked together for five years and they’d always liked and respected each other. The divorce had not had her father’s blessing.
“Nicky, promise me!”
“I can take care of myself, Dad!” It was an automatic response, and not a very smart one under the circumstances. She glanced over at Blake who’d poured himself another Scotch and was gazing out over the city, his back turned to her. Strong, straight shoulders, lean torso, long legs firmly planted on the floor. A man to reckon with. She closed her eyes briefly, hearing her father’s voice over the phone.
“Nicky, I don’t want to have to worry about you, do you understand?” His voice held command, but the underlying tension was audible. “I want to know you’re safe!”
She swallowed a nervous little laugh. Safe. How safe was she in the presence of her ex-husband? How safe was she from her own tormented emotions?
“Nicky?” There was a desperate sound in her father’s voice and her heart cringed. She closed her eyes.
“All right, Dad, if that’s what you want.” Her father had enough problems without having to worry about her.
He let out an audible sigh. “Good girl. Now I’d better call the police.”
Good girl. She winced. Well, no matter.
Blake turned as she put the receiver down. “Got answers to your questions?” he asked.
“It wasn’t what you’d call a very satisfactory conversation,” she said irritably.
“This isn’t a very satisfactory situation,” he returned dryly.
He was probably as delighted to be here with her as she was to be here with him. “I’ll have another drink,” she said, and caught a sudden spark of humor in his eyes, gone in an instant. He poured her another measure of whiskey and handed it to her without comment.
“Thank you.” She took a big gulp, wincing.
“Take it easy, Nicky,” he said mildly.
In answer, she glared at him and took another swallow.
He picked up the menu. “This little adventure has left me ravenous,” he commented. “I’ll order us some dinner from room service. What would you like?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’ve eaten all day. I’ve been sampling street food for an article I’m writing.” And even if she hadn’t eaten all day, she couldn’t imagine wanting anything now. She felt as if she were thrown into a nightmare and couldn’t get out. She raked her hand through her hair. She felt dirty and sticky and she didn’t even have a comb to fix her hair. She didn’t even have her purse. It was sitting on the living room sofa on top of her notebook.
She felt naked without her purse—no identification, no money, no credit cards. The magnitude of her helplessness flooded through her like the heat of the whiskey. Oh, God, what was she going to do?
“What should I be doing now?” she asked, feeling like a helpless child, sitting there on the side of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap like a timid schoolgirl, and he, standing, towering over her. She wasn’t used to asking anybody what to do. She was an independent, mature person and she usually knew what to do.
“Nothing, for the time being,” he said, studying the room service menu. “Relax.”
“Relax? Oh, sure, I’ll relax,” she said, trying to inject mockery into her tone, but it came out shakily, her voice trembling.
He glanced down at her face, and in the silence she glimpsed a softening in his eyes, a brief hesitation. He reached out and touched her cheek in a fleeting caress. “Everything will be all right, Nicky. You’re safe. And your father knows how to take care of himself.”
She dropped her gaze to her hands clenched in her lap. Her throat closed at the sudden gentleness in his voice, the touch of his warm hand on her cheek. She didn’t want to feel this way, this yearning to be held by him, to find comfort from the fear that clutched at her heart.
She swallowed hard. “I have nothing with me,” she said miserably. “No money, no clothes.” She glanced up at him. “Would you mind getting me a room in this place so at least I can shower and sleep? Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do and pay you back.”
“You’re staying right here tonight,” he said calmly. “We might have been followed here and I’m taking no risks with you in a room by yourself.”
I don’t want to be alone with you, came the automatic reply. But it stayed silent in her head. She fought to be calm and rational and not let her emotions create havoc.
“I’m not your responsibility,” she said huskily. Her hands shook and she put the glass down.
His eyes held hers. “I’m making you my responsibility,” he said with calm authority.
Her father had asked him to take care of her, no doubt. Do what Blake tells you to do, he’d told her. “I suppose my father asked you over the phone. You could have told him to figure out something else, you know.”
He gave her an odd look. “There’s not much I would not do for your father.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean?”
His expression was a mingling of surprise and impatience. “Come on, Nicky, you know why I admire and respect him.” He hesitated for a moment. “He’s been more of a father to me than my own ever was.”
She felt a sudden constriction in her throat. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she said.
Blake frowned. “How could you not know?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I... you never told me you felt about him that way.”
She’d known they’d liked each other, of course. What she hadn’t known was the extent of Blake’s feelings for her father. Blake’s own father had left him and his mother when Blake had been five. He’d seen him all of three times since.
She drained her glass. She was exhausted and her head felt dizzy with the whiskey. Her capacity for rational thought and decisive action was severely limited, so for the moment she had little choice but to go along with what Blake suggested.
He gestured to the bathroom door. “Have a shower. It will make you feel better. There’s a bathrobe behind the door.” He picked up the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want something? A cup of mint tea with honey, maybe?”
Her heart made an odd little leap. She swallowed. “All right, yes. I’d like that.” Mint tea, after all, was good for the digestion. She came to her feet and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the cool tile wall and took in a deep breath. So he remembered she liked mint tea with honey. What did that mean except that he had a good memory? They’d been married for two years. Surely he remembered things about her likes and disk likes. After all, didn’t she remember plenty about him?
She stripped off her clothes, taking in the sumptuous bathroom, the marble floor, the thick fluffy towels and the array of luxury toiletries, compliments of the hotel.
She filled the tub and put in some fragrant bath oil. Why take a shower when she could have a leisurely bath? It would relax her; it always did.
Except this time. Her head was too full of fearful questions and nervous apprehension. Would her father really be all right? What about her being in this room tonight? She felt like a nervous wreck thinking about being alone with Blake.
Blake who was still the same, and yet so different. He was still the same utterly attractive, man she had fallen in love with. He was also harder and colder. And the shine of laughter in his eyes was no longer there.
A knock came on the bathroom door and startled her. “Your tea is here. You want it in there?”
Her pulse leapt. “No, thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”
She let the tub drain, turned on the shower and shampooed her hair and rinsed off. It was good to feel clean again. The huge towel felt soft and luxurious. She wrapped another towel around her wet hair and pulled on one of the two hotel robes behind the door. Bundling up her clothes, she went back into the bedroom.
“Do you think we can get these washed by tomorrow morning?” she asked.
He glanced up from his newspaper. “Sure.” He reached for the phone. “Anything else you need? A toothbrush?”
She nodded. “Please.” She sat down at the table and poured the tea from a small pot and stirred in some honey while Blake was on the phone. Her body felt tense, her nerves frayed. She sipped the hot tea, surveying the dishes on the table, as yet covered and untouched. He had waited for her before eating. Always the gentleman. She moaned inwardly. Oh, God, she didn’t want to think about the past, about what had been.
He put the phone down and sat across from her at the table and took the covers off the plates, exposing an Oriental noodle dish with huge shrimp and a salad.
“It looks good,” she said for something to say.
“You can have some if you like.”
“No, thanks.” She sipped the fragrant tea. “You remembered I like mint tea,” she heard herself say.
His eyes met hers across the table. “Of course I do, Nicky,” he said, his mouth twisting in an odd little smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She shrugged uneasily. “I don’t know, I just...” Her voice faltered. “I just didn’t think it would be something you’d remember.”
“I remember a lot. More than is comfortable.” He picked up fork and glanced down at his food.
Her heart contracted. She remembered, too, and it certainly wasn’t comfortable. She stared into her cup, wondering about the sleeping arrangements, what he had in mind. There was only the one bed, king-size as it might be. They could easily sleep in it together and never know the other one was in it.
Sure, sure. She closed her eyes and swallowed more tea. She could suggest she sleep on the floor, or in one of the chairs. He wouldn’t let her. She knew him well enough. There was something terribly unreal about this situation.
“You look tired,” he said, surveying her face.
“I am. I was on my feet practically all day.”
“Tell me about your article.”
So she did, feeling relieved to have her thoughts distracted. “Have you ever eaten snake?” she asked, remembering seeing the creatures for sale in the market that morning—a lifetime ago.
“Tastes like chicken. Quite good.”
She grimaced. “It’s all in my head, I know, but I’m not ready for that adventure.”
Blake had finished his food and leaned back in his chair, only to come to his feet again when a knock came on the door. A smiling maid stated she had come to pick up the laundry. She had barely left when another one delivered a toothbrush.
As he once more closed and locked the door, Blake tossed Nicky the toothbrush. “If you want to go to sleep, go ahead. Would it bother you if I watched the news on TV for a while? I’ll turn it low.”
“No, of course not.” It was, after all, his room. “Where do you want me to sleep?” she asked.
He raised a dark brow. “In the bed, of course.”
“And you?”
“In the bed, too. Where else? Plenty of space. I’m sure we can manage. We have done this before, remember?”
Her heart lurched. “That was quite a while ago.” She sounded nervous. “And we were married.”
He gave her an impenetrable look. “Don’t stand there like a frightened virgin, for God’s sake. Don’t worry, I won’t force myself on you. I never have and I won’t now.”
Heat washed over her—a rush of anger, of memories, of embarrassment. No, he had never forced himself on her. All he had to do was smile his special smile, touch her softly, kiss her—anything at all and she was instantly aflame. Oh, God, she did not know if she would survive the night with him next to her in bed. She forced herself to be calm.
“Good,” she said tightly. “I’ll dry my hair and brush my teeth.”
“There’s toothpaste in my toiletry kit, and dental floss. Help yourself.” So cool, so calm.
“Thank you.” She swung around and went into the bathroom, feeling her legs trembling. She saw herself in the mirror, flushed, her eyes bright. A nervous virgin. She was pathetic!
She gritted her teeth, dragged the towel from her head and reached for the dryer mounted to the wall. She switched it on full, using her fingers to comb through her hair and lift it to dry it, the noise of the dryer an odd comfort. Her chest felt tight and for a terrible moment she was afraid she might break out in tears for a reason she couldn’t even fathom. Concentrating on the whining noise of the hair-dryer, she managed to control herself and the moment passed.
Her hair was very short and naturally curly and it didn’t take long to dry. She took the toothbrush from its box and looked around to locate Blake’s black leather toiletry kit, the same functional model he’d had years ago, but probably a newer version. A hairbrush lay beside it. Hesitating, she picked it up and used it to give her hair a quick going over now that it was dry.
The toiletry kit stood open and she took out the toothpaste and brushed her teeth, then searched for the small box of floss. It seemed to be an oddly intimate thing to be going through his kit, but he’d told her to do it. There was nothing but the usual stuff inside—a razor, a can of shaving foam, antiperspirant, aspirin, some first aid cream, his toothbrush and the dental floss. She took it out, cut off a piece and tossed the box back into the kit.
Back in the room she found Blake watching CNN, his shoes and socks off, bare feet propped up on the bed. Even his feet still looked familiar. She’d be able to pick them out of a thousand other pairs.
She stood in front of the bed, hesitating. Now, she could casually take off the bathrobe and slide between the sheets, but it was more than she was prepared to do with him having a front row seat for the show. When they’d been married she’d never worn anything to bed, but they were no longer married and if she was going to sleep in the same bed with him she was damn well going to wear something.
“Do you have something I can sleep in?” she asked. “A T-shirt?”
He gazed at her for a moment, as if her simple request needed digesting. Then he gestured at the dresser. “Second drawer on the right. The blue one is good and long.”
Was he making fun of her? She couldn’t tell. She found the T-shirt, went back into the bathroom and pulled it on. It was a good thing he was big and she was so small. The T-shirt reached almost mid-thigh.
“Charming,” he commented as she came back into the room. There was unexpected humor in his voice. “Do you honestly think that thing is going to keep me from ravishing you if I felt so inclined?”
“Oh, shut up,” she snapped.
He laughed. “Go to sleep, woman, you’re overwrought.”
It was easier said than done. The bed was comfortable, the sheets cool and crisp, but her body was tense. She listened to the soft murmur of the television. It seemed ages before he turned it off. Had he been waiting for her to be asleep before coming to bed? She heard him move around, go into the bathroom, heard the shower running.
She pictured him standing in the falling water, naked, wet, soapy, bubbles clinging to the hair on his chest. It was so easy to visualize. She knew everything about that body, the way it felt pressed intimately against hers. A wave of memories washed over her and her body reacted with treacherous need.
Her heart pounding, she jerked upright in bed.
This was crazy. She was crazy. She could not stay here. She should call someone. Who? She didn’t even have any clothes to put on. Oh, God, this was like a bad movie.
The shower was turned off. She scooted back under the covers, eyes closed, body rigid. He was drying himself off, wiping his face, his chest. He was brushing his teeth.
Stop it! Stop it!
The door opened quietly. Footsteps came softly toward the bed. She felt his weight on the mattress, the movements of his body as he made himself comfortable on the other side, heard the click of the lamp as he turned it off.
Silence, punctuated by the throbbing of her heart. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. After a while she heard Blake’s slow, regular breathing. He was asleep.
She felt an unreasonable, bitter anger. Here he was, asleep, not bothered at all by her being in his bed.
Well, why should he? They’d been married once, but that was over now. He’d probably had ten women since her.
She didn’t want him if he begged her. The thought almost made her laugh out loud. Blake never begged for anything.
She was floating in crystal blue water and the sky bloomed in soft pastels, greeting the rising sun. So beautiful—she sighed with the wonder of it. Gentle waves lapped sensuously against her skin, taking her back to the beach, back to Blake who was waiting for her to come to him.
Pink sand. So beautiful. So soft. She lay down and stretched out her arms to touch the warmth, to touch Blake, pleasure curling languorously through her body.
He felt warm and solid and she snuggled closer against him, his breath brushing her face. The sun rose higher and higher, the air grew hotter and hotter. She murmured his name, breathing in the familiar scent of him, her body flooding with trembling need, wanting him, wanting him.
Trembling need. Dizzying hunger. And an aching sadness. Her fingers tangled in his thick hair, slipped down his neck to his back. It was smooth and strong under her hands. She shifted a little, searching for his mouth, kissing him, hearing the soft groan coming from deep inside him.
It was so wonderful to kiss him, to feel the sweet, seductive yearning. So why this sadness? The soundless tears? As if she knew she would never have what she so desperately craved. As if all of this was just a fragile illusion.
His heart beat against hers. She could feel it against her breast, hear it. So wonderful. Two hearts beating together. She clung to him, closer still, her arms around him. Comfort and bliss. She fought the sadness, wanting only to feel the magic of their bodies together. “Hold me,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”
“Nicky?” A sound from another world, harsh, tortured.
She felt dragged into consciousness, heart racing, darkness everywhere. She gulped in air, disoriented, feeling the roughness of an unshaven chin, the warm skin of a naked body intimately close against her.
Light flooded the room, and she found herself staring into Blake’s smoke-gray eyes. Oh, God, she thought, freezing over. I don’t believe this.
