Читать книгу To Alaska, With Love - Lori Wilde - Страница 13

Chapter Six

“SHE SURE PUT YOU in your place,” Jake teased Quinn when he returned to the B&B three hours after Kay had kicked him out. Lulu lay on the rug at his feet, eyeing Quinn with the same amusement that was evident in her owner’s face.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Quinn’s got a girlfriend.”

“Grow up,” Quinn growled, and scowled.

He had gone home to give her time to cool off and to prepare a peace offering, and he’d come back to restlessly pace the corridor of the B&B, trying to gather his courage to knock on Kay’s door. Since when could one feisty little woman make his knees quake?

He pushed his fingers through his hair and let out a long breath, which did nothing to ease the nervousness and self-reproach squeezing his gut. If he wasn’t careful he was going to mess things up royally with Kay.

He had fibbed to her, inadvertently embarrassed her, and that had never been his intent. He had to apologize, get back into her good graces.

Resolutely he knocked on her door.

“Should I go get Meggie?” Jake asked. “Just in case Kay decides to slam-dunk you down the staircase and you need the services of a trained RN?”

“Beat it.” Quinn glowered at his friend.

Chuckling to himself, Jake sauntered off, Lulu on his heels.

And Kay answered the door. “Oh. Are you still here?”

“Can we talk?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So talk.”

“In private.” He waved a hand. “Eavesdroppers are rampant around here.”

She shook her head and studied him for a long moment. Should she stay mad? He gave her a sad expression. She opened her door wider. “All right.”

Quinn scooted over the threshold.

Kay shut the door behind him, then turned to face him. “Did you have fun embarrassing me in front of all your friends?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t like what? I was terrified of that moose!” She punched him lightly on the shoulder. He arched his eyebrows in surprise. She wasn’t given to admitting feelings of weakness, and the fact that she had done so amazed her. But darn it, she had been scared.

“You told me you’d survived two muggings and it was no big deal. Why would a moose scare you?” Quinn looked genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s the unknown. Why did you let me make a fool of myself?”

“I had no idea you were going to rush into Jake’s and call everyone to arms against Kong. What can I say? I liked it when you grabbed on to me, when you needed me to protect you.”

“Really?” She slanted him a sideways glance. She was flattered and she probably shouldn’t be, but truthfully it had made her feel very feminine to know this brawny man could protect her from wild creatures.

“Yeah. I am sorry—I acted like a jerk, Kay.”

Her name on his tongue tracked an unstoppable awareness through her. She pressed a hand to her stomach to still the fluttering there. A man who could admit when he was wrong? Unbelievable.

“Forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven,” she said.

“Forgiven enough so that you’ll agree to have dinner with me?”

“All right.” She nodded. “Just let me change.”

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

Grinning, Quinn hurried back downstairs. Thank heavens she’d accepted his dinner invitation. He’d gone all out, preparing his famous salmon chowder, putting Coltrane on the CD player, chilling a bottle of champagne. He hoped he wasn’t going overboard or pushing too hard.

His stomach took a dive at the thought. He’d never felt so out of his element with a woman. He was used to cocking a seductive grin at the ladies and having them tumble right into his bed. Why this one caused him to doubt himself, he had no idea.

Maybe because he wanted her so badly.

A few minutes later Kay floated down the staircase. Once again every eye in the room was trained on her lithe, graceful form. Even Lulu thumped her tail approvingly from her place by the fire.

Quinn gulped. He could only stare, bug-eyed. She wore a black velvet long-sleeved dress and black high-heeled fashion boots. Not exactly Alaskan wear, but damn, those boots did fine things for her legs.

In that moment he flashed back to the first time he’d seen her on the plane. He recalled the way her legs looked encased in silk stockings. A rampant forest fire suddenly blazed through him, and he was at a loss for words.

The bodice of her dress clung snugly to her full breasts. The skirt swished seductively when she moved.

As she descended the last step, he stood up to greet her.

“Are you going to be warm enough in that outfit?” he asked.

She leaned in close, the hair on the top of her head tickling his nose. “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I have on long-handled underwear.”

That secret should have killed his libido-fed fantasies about satin and lace covering her silky skin. Instead he found himself even more aroused by the thought of her in cotton flannel. Perspiration beaded his brow.

He was a sick, sick man.

The sky was inky black as they walked to the SUV. This time of year they got only about five hours of daylight. He carried a flashlight and shone it over the parking lot to light their way, while keeping his arm firmly locked around Kay’s waist. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

“I can’t believe how dark it is,” she whispered. “No streetlights. No cars on the road. Quiet as a cemetery.”

He tried to see Bear Creek from her point of view and failed. He considered the darkness comforting, the vastness of the landscape inspiring.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“My place.”

“Not to a restaurant?” Her voice rose on the question, as if she was nervous about his reply.

“The only restaurant open during the winter months is the Paradise Diner next to the B&B. You’ll be sick enough of it by the time you head back to New York.”

“Only one restaurant? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not. Bear Creek’s winter population is about fifteen hundred.”

“And in the summer?”

“Late May through mid-August the population swells to three, four thousand, double that when the cruise ships are in town.”

“Wow.”

They arrived at his cabin, and he escorted her inside and took her coat.

“Something smells wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m starving.”

“Salmon chowder and grilled sourdough bread.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Made it myself. The chowder that is, not the bread.”

She laughed.

Once in the kitchen, she enthused over the tablecloth, the candles, the champagne just as he’d hoped, and Quinn began to relax. He’d pleased her, which was precisely his intent.

He pulled back her chair for her. She smiled up at him. They ate and talked and ate and talked as if they’d been friends for a thousand years.

Quinn couldn’t quit staring at her. Whenever her pink tongue flicked out to take a morsel of food from her spoon, it felt as if she was licking him in a very private place. Several times he had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from groaning out loud.

Kay was impressed that he’d worked so hard to make such a delicious meal. She admired his impeccable table manners and sent sideways glances at him. The candlelight accented his features. He’d rolled up his sleeves while serving their dinner, exposing those magnificent forearms that drove her wild with desire.

“So, Quinn, for the sake of the readers of Metropolitan magazine, what’s your idea of the perfect date?” she asked, desperate to get her mind off his extreme sexiness.

“We’re back to the article again.”

“Yes.”

“We’re having it.”

“What?”

“The perfect date.” He reached across the table, laid a hand on hers. “Good food. Great conversation. A pretty woman.”

“Oh.” Taken aback by the very bold look in his eyes, Kay removed her hand from underneath his.

“There’s only one thing that would make it better.”

She held her breath.

“Dessert.”

He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and then brought out baked Alaska.

“You made this yourself?” she gasped as he set the flaming dessert in front of her.

“It’s not as hard as it looks.”

“I’m impressed.”

“That was my intent.”

He nailed her with his steady gaze.

She’d never met a man like Quinn. At once extremely masculine, yet oddly enough quite domestic. He possessed a self-confidence that would attract any woman. He had an intense strength underlying his every action, and hey, the guy could even admit when he was wrong. She wagered that mere weeks after his advertisement ran in the magazine, he’d be well on his way to matrimony with the wild woman of his dreams.

She experienced a strange tug in her belly. Was she actually jealous of that as-yet-nonexistent woman?

You don’t have to be jealous. You can have him for now. He’s the tonic to soothe your shattered ego. So what if there’s no happily-ever-after? What about happily-right-now?

They ate the baked Alaska; then Quinn wiped his mouth with his napkin, checked his watch and shoved back his chair. “It’s about time.”

“Time for what?”

“Come with me. There’s something I’d like to show you.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to her. “This way.”

He guided her toward the stairs.

Toward the bedroom?

Kay gulped. Was she really ready for this? She had taken the assignment because she wanted to see Quinn again. And because she couldn’t stop lusting after him, but when push came to shove, could she go through with it?

“Quinn...I...”

He placed a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

His finger tasted slightly salty, the pressure of it against her mouth startlingly arousing. She had the strongest urge to capture that finger with her teeth and suck.

He cocked his head and smiled oh-so-slightly, as if miraculously reading her thoughts. The five-o’clock shading riding his jaw looked rough, exciting, and she wondered what it would feel like rasping against her cheek.

In a split second she was locked in another fantasy. She envisioned him without his clothes on and hiccuped at the image that rose to her mind. He would look gorgeous naked. She just knew it. Golden skin, perfectly defined muscles, firm hiney.

Kay gulped.

“Come,” he urged. “Come.”

Did she dare?

Maybe, Kay realized, maybe she was afraid of finding out that she really was sexually dysfunctional. But how could she be frigid when she felt so hot and wet and achy deep inside? When her entire body begged for a release she’d dreamed about on a daily basis?

He laced his fingers through hers and, walking backward, slowly pulled her up the first step. “I’m not going to bite,” he murmured. “Unless you want me to.”

Her heart punched her rib cage as she placed one booted foot on the first hardwood step.

His gaze snagged hers and held on tight. Kay shivered at the purely masculine gleam in his sultry eyes. Even from arm’s length, she could feel his body heat radiating outward.

She was coming undone. Something uncoiled in her belly. Something soft and warm and messy.

His breathing, husky with desire, echoed loudly in the confines of the staircase. The erotic sound strummed along her nerve endings, escalating her excitement. She struggled to draw in a steady breath of her own, but ended up panting shallowly, her eyes locked to his.

Up another step and then another.

Scalding hot. It must be 110 degrees in here. Quinn tightened his grip on her fingers. She needed to run outside and roll around in the snow.

“Almost there,” he coaxed.

Almost where? His bedroom? At the thought she experienced this incredible, inextricable push-pull. Her nipples tightened in anticipation; she could feel them protruding against the material of her bra. Pressure, sweet, sweet pressure, grew between her legs.

“Here we are,” he said at last, and she mounted the last step.

But where he led her was not a bedroom.

Kay blinked.

It was another spacious living area with rafter ceilings, a second fireplace, leather couch, braided rug. A handmade quilt graced the back of the couch. The far corner housed a desk complete with computer, printer, fax, copier and scanner.

Outdoor and rescue equipment hung from pegs mounted along the paneling or were in organized rows on built-in shelves. Harnesses, ropes, pulleys and crampons for mountain climbing. Life vests, oars and wading boots for river rafting. There were fire extinguishers and first-aid kits, a citizens band radio and a huge stash of flashlights. Obviously this was his office.

But what grabbed her attention and held her transfixed was the plate-glass window running along one wall overlooking the bay and the incredible display on view.

Kay’s hand rose to her throat as she stared at the brilliant curtain of shimmering green, red and white that fluttered ghostlike across the sky. She had never seen anything so awe-inspiring as those radiant spectral waves.

The shimmers danced and twirled, gauzy curtains of brilliant brightness changing shapes, billowing out like a green genie from a bottle in those old cartoons she had been banned from watching as a child.

“The northern lights,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His voice was as husky with awe and respect as her own.

“It’s incredible. Resplendent. Superlative. Words can’t began to describe it.”

“Nature’s light show. We see the aurora up to two hundred times a year from early spring to late fall. This year promises to be particularly vibrant because of increased sunspot activity.”

“What causes this spectacle?”

“Scientifically speaking,” Quinn said, “the northern lights are electrical discharges resulting from the interaction between wind and the earth’s magnetic field.”

“Oh.”

“But the Native Alaskans believe the lights were torches carried by old souls to guide the new souls into the next world.”

A carpet of gooseflesh covered her arms, despite her long-handled underwear. She felt shivery inside and not just from the eerie legend, but from her closeness to Quinn.

He’d brought her up here to see this breathtaking display, not to make love to her. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me now, kiss me hard, kiss me long.

But she didn’t say those things. Instead, she turned to him and smiled softly, belying the inner turmoil raging through her mind. “Thank you, Quinn, for showing this to me.”

“You’re welcome. Hang on, I’ll get us some champagne and we’ll toast your arrival and the appearance of the sometimes temperamental aurora. I’d hoped she would come out to play tonight, but you never know for certain.”

“She?”

“The aurora is most definitely a feminine force,” he said. “Watch the sky. See how the lights flicker and tease? She’s fickle. Coming on hot, then shying away. Coyly fading one minute, flaring boldly the next. Cool yet strangely hot. Oh, Aurora is a woman all right. She’s got many moods.”

“You’re quite the romantic,” Kay said.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re not married.” She shook her head.

“Hopefully your article and our ad will help rectify that.”

But I don’t want you to get married, a selfish little voice inside her cried. If you get married, you can’t be my boy-toy.

She watched him amble to the champagne bucket positioned next to the stereo system. He turned on the radio, and the sound of Wilson Pickett’s “Midnight Hour” spun out into the room.

“Oh,” she said, “I love this song.”

“That’s KCRK,” Quinn told her. “I put together the play list for tonight.”

He wrangled with the champagne bottle. She heard the cork pop, watched him fill two flutes with fizzy champagne.

“You went to a lot of trouble for me.”

His eyes met hers as he handed her a flute. “You’re worth it.”

Blinking up at his handsome face, Kay noticed things she hadn’t paid attention to before—the way his brown hair, shot through with golden strands, curled slightly over his forehead, the way his eyes went soft and seemed to caress her, the tiny mole an inch above the left side of his mouth.

He raised his glass. “To the moment,” he murmured.

She clinked the lip of hers against the lip of his. “To the moment.”

They sipped their champagne, eyed each other over the rim of their glasses. Kay felt at once heavy and yet extremely light, like a helium balloon tied to a child’s wrist. Weighted but yearning to fly.

Suddenly she burped.

“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, and slapped a hand over her mouth. In her family burping aloud was a sin akin to indecent exposure. “I’m so embarrassed. Please forgive me.”

“Lighten up, sweetheart. What’s to forgive? So you burped. Actually it makes me feel better. I was beginning to think you were too perfect.”

“I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.”

“Well, if burping on champagne is your biggest fault, I won’t kick you out of my bed.”

Their eyes met, held for a long moment.

“Come sit.” He eased down on the couch, patted the cushion next to him.

She sat down beside him. He stretched his arm out over the back of the couch. She was acutely aware of it resting there. She imagined his fingers tangling in her hair, his mouth devouring hers. Briefly she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she focused on the dancing lights beyond the window.

Quinn studied Kay as she watched the northern lights. Her profile mesmerized him. Her nose was refined, her cheekbones sculpted. Just looking at her made his heart feel crooked, as if it had slipped in his chest.

Her scent teased his nostrils. Warm and rich and compelling, it smelled of something foreign and exotic. Was that what attracted him to her? She was like no other woman of his acquaintance.

Her hair brushed lightly across his skin. He noticed her perfectly manicured fingernails, the delicate shape of her hands, her narrow wrist decorated with a gold tennis bracelet. Even though she was right beside him, she still seemed detached somehow. Her detachment intrigued him just as it had on the airplane.

Her aloofness roused him, made him want to do something drastic to bring her into the fold. She had lived in New York too long, spent too much time disconnected from people, too often kept her feelings to herself. Her two-week stay in Bear Creek would do her a world of good. Help her open up to herself and the world around her. He wondered if he should tell her about his urge to rattle her cage, ruffle her feathers, crack her facade. He ached to tell her exactly how he hoped to liberate her. But Quinn feared that if he spoke these words, it would be a mistake from which he could never recover.

And yet he felt driven, nervous. His heart began a fretful pounding. There were no words for what he wanted to say, and his tongue lay paralyzed on the floor of his mouth. A knot of pressure built inside him. Pressure that urged him to haul her into his arms and show her everything he simply could not say.

He wasn’t good with flowery sentiment. He was a man of action, and only action could quiet his restlessness. His body tensed and he leaned in close.

She looked at him then, her pale hair gleaming in the firelight, rivaling the natural phenomena flickering outside the window. Her breathing was shallow, and her brown eyes shone with a fevered effervescence. He’d never seen anything so lovely.

Kay felt his body shift toward her, pressing her deeper into the plush leather couch. His left side was crushed against her right, and he placed a hand on her thigh. Then his mouth was on hers—oh, how she had dreamed of kissing him again—urgent and insistent. She was concurrently both hot and cold. His body was tense, hard, but his lips were soft, inviting.

And his tongue.

Dear Lord, it ought to be illegal to possess such a tongue!

From there everything went wild, flailed totally out of control. He dropped his arm from the back of the couch, wrapped it around her waist and hauled her against his body, forcing her to spread her knees.

She felt his erection through his pants. It throbbed against her belly with a provocative rhythm. They were fused. Lips to lips. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh. And yet it wasn’t nearly close enough. Too much clothing in the way.

Twining her fingers into the warm, thick, whiskey-colored hair at the nape of his neck, she arched her body against his. She opened her mouth wider, encouraging that roving tongue to pepper her with wet, sexual thrusts.

He mimicked her moves, one hand cupping the back of her neck. The fingers of his other hand stroked her jaw, her throat and skimmed lower until he was caressing her breasts through the velvety bodice of her dress. He kneaded the pliant flesh, searing her with triple-digit heat. Oh, she couldn’t wait until his hands were on her bare skin.

His thumb flicked across the pebble-hard nipple straining tight against her restrictive clothing. Damn, but she wanted to be naked. She threw back her head and a needy moan escaped her lips.

Putty. She was nothing but putty in his hands. The notion both frightened and exhilarated her.

Feverish desire clawed through her, pulling her down, drawing her under the power of Quinn’s spell. With the aurora borealis whipping gracefully in her peripheral vision, the fireplace embers glowing and Quinn’s tongue on its restless pursuit, she felt swept away by some unstoppable, forbidden fantasy.

Except this reality was more titillating than her most taboo dreams.

Too much torture. She simply could not stand this any longer. She wanted him. Now. Crazily, illogically, this very minute. She refused to stub out her urges. Passion pushed all her fears aside. Desire evaporated any shred of common sense she might have possessed. She wrenched her mouth from his.

“Quinn,” she gasped. “Before we go any further, there’s something I must tell you.”

He looked dazed, muzzy with craving. Their breathing mingled in rapid spurts.

“What is it?”

“I’m not...” She paused, not quite certain how to put this. “I’m not like other women.”

“You got that right, sweetheart.” He couldn’t seem to resist dropping a kiss on her jaw. That achingly light pressure threw her completely off-kilter.

She splayed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. She needed a moment to regroup. “No. I don’t mean it like that.”

He rearranged himself on the couch, shoved a hand through his hair and gave her his complete attention. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve never...” She squirmed uncomfortably. She hated admitting her deficiencies. She’d been raised on the myth that Freemonts never revealed their flaws. So why was she going to tell him her darkest secret? Because she felt as if he was the only one who could help her. “Well...you know...”

“What? Had sex?” He stared at her in disbelief.

“I’m twenty-seven, Quinn. I was almost engaged. Of course I’ve had sex.”

“Oh. What then?” He frowned.

This was so hard. She squirmed, she fidgeted. She tried the words out mentally first, but nothing seemed right. Finally she blurted, “I’ve never...” Then paused again.

“Never what?”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. “...had an orgasm.”

“You’re kidding. For real?”

She nodded. “Lloyd says I’m frigid. That it’s my fault he had to turn to other women.”

“Bullshit!” Quinn spoke with such vehemence, Kay jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But that ex-boyfriend of yours is a jerk.”

His anger at Lloyd flattered her. She knew then that she had done the right thing by coming to Alaska, by revealing to Quinn her hidden shame.

“How he could fool around on such a beautiful, exciting, interesting woman is beyond me. He must have sawdust for brains.”

“You think I’m interesting?” She smiled shyly, not meaning to be coy. She wasn’t milking him for more compliments, but she was touched beyond measure that he found her interesting, as she’d always thought herself rather dull.

“Interesting, hell.” Quinn snorted. “You’re downright mysterious. You keep yourself so contained. I ache to know what you’re thinking when you get those Mona Lisa smiles on your face. And you’re anything but frigid. If you’ve never been able to come, it’s through no fault of your own. You’ve just been with the wrong men.”

Kay gulped. This next part was hard, but she had to say it. “I want to ask a favor of you.”

“What is it?” His eyes never left her face.

“Do you think that maybe you could help me...er...achieve sexual fulfillment?”

“Say the word, sweetheart,” he encouraged her, lifting a hand to capture a strand of her hair and rub it between his fingers. “Put aside that aristocratic breeding of yours and tell me that you want to come bigger than the state of Alaska.”

Pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, she stared straight into his eyes.

And almost lost it completely.

“I want you to make me come,” she begged him. “More than anything in the world.”