Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (29 page)

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Carlotta sighed, wondering what all the poor people were

doing while she floated on a chaise lounge in an

aquamarine pool on a perfect sunny day sipping a frozen

pink drink.

With a little umbrel a and everything.

“What are you thinking about?”

Carlotta lifted her head and shielded her eyes from the

late-afternoon sun to watch Peter swim up. He stopped to

hang on to the edge of the chaise, grinning up at her.

Her breath caught in her chest. With his hair slicked back

from his face, his skin glowing with sun and health, and his

dark blue eyes dancing, he was the handsome teenager

she’d fallen in love with. A pang of desire struck low in her

abdomen.

“I…I was thinking about you,” she said. “About us,

actually.”

He looked surprised. “Is that good?”

“I think so,” she murmured, reaching out to stroke his

tanned forearm. Since her decision last night to take their

relationship to the next level, she’d thought of little else.

From the patio came a yowling sound, the cat expressing

her displeasure at being ignored. The Persian slunk around

the pool, eyeing her and Peter warily, but staying wel

away from the edge.

“Your girlfriend is jealous,” Carlotta teased, nodding at the

cat.

He shook his head. “I have no idea why that cat has taken

to me. I’ve never liked cats.”

“Then you’d better hope that someone claims her.”

“I noticed this morning when I went out to get bagels that

the flyers are stil up.”

“Maybe her owner is on vacation,” Carlotta mused. “Or

got tired of buying salmon and sardines to feed her.”

Peter laughed. “One thing’s for sure, the cat’s not sleeping

in my room anymore. I couldn’t keep her out of my bed

and I got no sleep last night.”

At the mention of his bed, their gazes locked and her

thighs tingled.

“You don’t like having your sleep disturbed?” she asked.

“I don’t mind losing sleep,” he said with a sexy smile, “as

long as it’s for a good reason.”

Her breasts tightened. “I agree.”

Hope sparked in his eyes. Knowing that he wanted her so

badly was a powerful aphrodisiac.

“Peter, I appreciate you giving me time and space to sort

things out in my head.”

He reached up to curl his warm hand around her leg. “I

know I hurt you, Carly. The least I can do is let you set the

pace for where our relationship might go from here.” He

wet his lips. “But I have to admit that having you here and

keeping my distance has taken a lot of wil power…and a

lot of cold showers.”

She laughed, her body responding to his touch. And to his

devotion. And to both of them being half-naked in the sun.

In that moment, being with Peter seemed so right.

Carlotta leaned over to kiss him, a slow exploratory kiss

ful of apologies and possibilities. He pul ed her off the

chaise into the water with him, sliding her against his lean,

muscled body. The frozen drink was forgotten, spil ing into

the water as hands were freed for roaming.

She ran her fingers over his shoulder blades and down his

spine. He slid his hands down to her rear and pul ed her

sex against the bulge in his trunks, al while kicking to keep

them afloat. He groaned into her mouth and deepened the

kiss, his desire for her obvious in every fevered movement.

But she didn’t want their reunion sex to be in the pool,

especially when Sissy Talmadge might have her binoculars

trained on them this very moment.

Carlotta lifted her head. “Let’s go inside.”

He didn’t argue, just used one hand to swim them to the

ladder. She climbed out, feeling sexy and uninhibited as

water sluiced off her turquoise bikini. Peter pushed

himself up on the pool ledge and climbed out next to her.

He grabbed her hand and pul ed her toward the sliding

glass door leading to the house.

“But we’re dripping,” she protested. “We’l get water

everywhere.”

“Who cares?” he said, pul ing her along.

She laughed and gave in to his enthusiasm. They hurried

into the house, through the great room, then up the stairs

to his bedroom. Peter flung the doors open, then

practically launched them onto his bed.

Happy their first time together again would be fun and

spontaneous, Carlotta wrapped her arms around his neck

and kissed him hard, pul ing him on top of her. His body

was more muscular than it had been when he was young,

more mature, the mat of light hair on his chest thicker. But

she knew this body and this body knew hers.

He broke the kiss to nuzzle her neck and untie the string

holding up her bikini top. When her breasts fel into his

hands, his eyes grew hooded and he sighed against her

skin. “You’re so beautiful, Carly. I’ve never wanted a

woman the way I’ve always wanted you.”

He licked circles around her stiff nipples, then suckled her,

sending shards of pleasure coursing through her body. She

urged him on, arching into his mouth. He was like a

starved man, making little hungry noises as he slid his

hands into her bikini bottoms and pushed them down over

her wet legs. She lifted her hips to help him while rol ing

his trunks down to free his powerful erection.

His urgency to be with her seemed to border on

desperation. She felt the same way, impatient to right a

wrong, keen for things to return to the way they’d been

before all the ugliness in her life had unfolded. Peter was

the first man she’d ever loved. This was how things

should’ve been…how things should be.

Carlotta reached down to grasp his thick cock, eager to

have him inside her. Suddenly Peter’s eyes flew open and

he stiffened, emitting a strangled little cry. Mortification

bled over his face, then he looked away.

“What’s wrong?” Carlotta said, then became aware of a

sticky wetness on her stomach. She looked down to see a

pool of white liquid, and realized what had happened.

“Peter…it’s okay,” she rushed to reassure him.

He rol ed over on his back, a stricken expression on his

face. “No, it’s not okay. I wanted things to be perfect,

not…premature. I’m so sorry.”

Her mind raced, trying to remember if this kind of thing

had ever happened when they were younger, but she

didn’t think so. “Peter, it’s probably just nerves. I

understand. Don’t worry about it.”

He was quiet, his arm over his eyes.

She stroked his chest. “We have plenty of time to get back

in sync.”

Finally he looked over at her and released an anguished

sigh. “I suppose you’re right.” Then a little smile curved his

mouth. “Meanwhile, there’s some unfinished business.”

He reached for a box of tissues to mop up her stomach,

then he shifted lower on the bed and kissed her thighs.

She sighed and undulated toward his mouth. He crawled

between her legs and lowered his head to her sex. When

his tongue stroked her core, she remembered in an instant

the way he used to play her body like an instrument.

Honeyed pleasure flowed over her, weakening her limbs.

She cried out and sank her hands into his hair. This was

paradise.

Meow.

Her eyes flew open just as Peter’s head came up. The

Persian had jumped onto his back and was staring at

Carlotta over his shoulder.

Carlotta frowned and tried to cover herself, even though

she knew her reaction was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if the cat

knew what was happening, or what she was looking at.

“How did she get in here?”

Peter made a frustrated noise, then reached around to

grasp the cat while he moved off the bed. “I must’ve left

the door open.”

He carried the squirming feline to the hall and set her

down, but she darted back into the bedroom before he

could close the door. Carlotta sighed and laid her head

back on the pil ow while a melee ensued. The cat led Peter

on a merry chase around the room while Carlotta’s

frustration mounted and her libido ebbed. After several

minutes, Peter finally nabbed the Persian, deposited her in

the hallway and successful y shut her out of the bedroom.

He turned back to the bed with an apologetic smile.

“Now…where was I? Oh, I remember,” he said, crawling on

the bed between her knees. He licked his way back to the

nest of wet, dark curls between her thighs.

She closed her eyes in an effort to recapture the earlier

passion, concentrating on the delicious trail of his tongue

up and down her folds.

Frantic scratching sounded at the bedroom door. Meow,

meow, meow.

“Ignore her,” he murmured against her intimate parts.

“She’l go away.”

But the cat was persistent, its protests growing louder and

louder, the scratching more frenzied. The more Carlotta

tried to tune it out, the more distracted she became.

“Enough,” Carlotta said, sitting up.

Peter lifted his head. “You don’t like?”

She sighed. “I love what you’re doing. But fate is

conspiring against us. Why don’t we take a break and

regroup later.”

Outside the door, the cat emitted a long mournful howl

that sounded as if something large and heavy was sitting

on its tail.

“After we drown the cat,” Carlotta added wryly.

Peter laughed, then pul ed his hand down his face. “So

much for best-laid plans. Who knew a cat could be so loud.

Do you think she’s hungry?”

“Something like that,” Carlotta agreed, although she really

believed the cat couldn’t bear to be away from Peter.

“Why don’t you feed her? I think I’l take a shower.”

“Okay. I’l get out the chops and start dinner.” He pul ed a

pair of boxers and shorts from his bureau. After he

dressed, he leaned over to kiss her, then gave her a

bittersweet smile. “Promise me we’l try this again.”

She smiled. “I promise.”

But after he left the room, Carlotta pressed her lips

together. That emotion plucking at her, just behind the

frustration tightening her chest…It couldn’t be relief, could

it?

She pushed to her feet, retrieved her wet bikini and

smoothed the bedspread. She crossed the hall to her own

bedroom, noting the cat had fol owed Peter downstairs.

Carlotta turned on the shower and the stereo. Susan

Tedeschi was singing “Alone,” and Carlotta knew the

words by heart. While she waited for the water to warm,

she pul ed on a robe and checked her cel phone for

messages.

Carlotta frowned—Wesley had called twice and left

messages for her to cal him.

She punched in his number, wondering if The Charmed

Kil er had struck again. Wesley answered on the first ring.

“Hi, sis.”

“Hi. I got your messages to call. What’s up?”

“Uh…are you alone?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve got some news about Coop and I think it

might be best if you hear it in private.”

Her heart began to thud. “What about Coop?”

Wesley told her about the validated parking receipts from

Piedmont Hospital he’d seen in Coop’s van, and about

seeing Coop yesterday at the hospital.

“What were you doing at the hospital?” she interjected.

“Visiting a friend,” he said vaguely. “The point is, Coop

didn’t see me. I was curious, so I fol owed him to the office

of a neurologist.”

She frowned. “Doesn’t a neurologist treat spinal cord

problems?”

“And brain tumors.”

Carlotta reached for the bed and sat down. “Are you

saying that Coop has a brain tumor?”

“I don’t know what he has, but it makes sense. You were

the one who said he was acting strange, not like himself. A

tumor would certainly cause a change in personality. And

it would explain why he’s drinking again.”

Trying to process the horrific possibilities, Carlotta

massaged her temple. “How do you know that Coop is

drinking?”

“Because I smel ed it on his breath the other day in the

morgue lab. If he’s terminal, maybe he figures he might as

wel drink. Or maybe he’s drinking to deal with the pain.”

Carlotta grimaced, her eyes fil ing with tears. Was that the

reason Coop had stopped by her house the night Jack had

been guarding her? He’d been on the verge of tel ing her

something—that he was dying?

“Sis, are you there?”

She sniffled. “I’m here.”

“I knew you’d be upset, but I thought you should know.”

“I’m glad you told me,” she said, then took a deep breath.

“But we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. There might be a

perfectly logical reason for Coop to be seeing a

neurologist.”

But it was evident in the resounding silence that fol owed

that neither of them could think of one.

“Are you going to call him?” Wesley asked.

“I don’t believe he’d welcome a call from me right now,”

she said, thinking of their encounter last night at Moody’s.

“Maybe you should go see him.”

“I’l think about it,” she promised. “And I’l let you know if I

talk to him.”

“Okay, meanwhile, I won’t say anything to him about it.”

“I think that’s best for now.” She sighed. “How’s