Breathless Descent (4 page)

“I’m not running now, Shay,” he said, not denying the truth. He had run. Run and hoped they’d outgrown the adolescent infatuation they’d shared. But it had matured as they had, turned dangerous in its demand. “I’m here. I’m ready. Let’s talk.” It was long overdue and he knew it.

“Well, I’m not ready.” She stopped in front of him, impatiently waving him aside. “You might as well move away from in front of the door, Caleb. The only person I’m going to talk to right now is Rick. You scared the man half to death with that ‘lethal soldier’ act of yours. That was rude and it was wrong.”

“Rude was visiting the daughter of the party’s host in her bedroom,” he said. “Rick deserves to be scared.”

“
You’re
in my room,” she pointed out. “What does that say about you?”

“I belong here. Rick doesn’t.”

“I decide who belongs in my room,” she said and held up a finger to stop his objections. “It’s still my room, whether I live here or not. And unlike you, Rick was invited.” She slapped the shirt in her hand against Caleb’s chest, and he reached up and caught it as she added, “He needed a shirt. Too bad I didn’t spill my plate on you instead of him.”

He started to toss the shirt, and his gaze caught on the University of Texas championship logo. “Wait one damn minute.” His eyes jerked to hers. “This is my shirt,” he said, then added, incredulously, “You were giving him
my shirt
.”

“
My
shirt,” she declared, hands on her scantily clad hips.

“That you stole from me the year I moved into this house to sleep in and never gave back. You know damn well you were giving him that shirt to piss me off.”

She snatched the shirt right back from him and tossed it over her shoulder. “It was convenient. Like you shoving Rick in my direction because you couldn’t handle being in close quarters with me.”

“I’d say I’m pretty damn close right now.” Close enough to see the sprinkle of light brown freckles on her nose that she hated and he loved. Close enough to touch her. “And I had nothing to do with Rick, besides kicking him out of here. The date thing came from Kent and your father.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Rick sure didn’t see it that way.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t there when Rick was pining over you,” he agreed. “But you know damn well I couldn’t say anything without drawing questions.”

“Right,” she said smartly. “We wouldn’t want to draw any questions. Better everyone think we’ve decided we don’t like each other than dare believe we want to jump each other’s bones.”

“Touchy, touchy,” he chided. “See. I knew you were pissed at me. Exactly why I wasn’t going to risk you using Rick to get back at me.”

“You sure are full of yourself, Caleb Martin,” she roared back. “It takes a lot of arrogance to assume I only wanted Rick to get back at you.”

“You did just say you wanted to jump my bones,” he pointed out, teasing her despite himself. It was second nature, a part of what he’d always done to her, with her. It was also going to get him in deeper water, but then, with Shay, he was damn near always drowning anyway. “I said
we,
not
I,
and I was only making a point and you know it.”

“Anger works like alcohol on you,” he said. “It makes you say what you really feel. And anger, directed at me, makes you do things you normally wouldn’t do. Not only were you giving Rick my shirt, you were alone with him in a bedroom at your conservative parents’ house. That’s not you and you know it.”

Her eyes flashed. “How would you know what is or isn’t me, Caleb?” She poked his chest, her body barely a hairbreadth from his. “The few times you came into town over the past ten years, we both hoped we’d have outgrown the past. When we hadn’t, instead of dealing with it and talking to me, you avoided me like the plague. Like that somehow made it all go away, but really it was just you that went away. Well, it’s not going to work now that you’re home, Caleb. Kent, Mom and Dad are going to start asking questions about the tension between us.”

Her eyes pierced his, her glare packed with challenge. “And you know what else isn’t working? You pretending that dumb ten-year-old kiss didn’t happen, and then looking at me like you want to kiss me again. It’s ticking me off.” She poked his chest again. “Bad.”

He wanted to drag her into his arms, every nerve ending in his body aware of her, aware of how long they’d wanted each other, how long they’d denied that need. “I’m not trying to piss you off, Shay.”

“Too late,” she declared, a tiny lift to her pointed chin, which indicated confrontation, but her hand uncurled beneath his hold and flattened against his. Her voice softened. “Sometimes I just think…maybe…we’re like the apple to Adam and Eve. It was just an apple, but the forbidden aspect made it tantalizing. Maybe if we kiss again, we’ll find that the first kiss has been blown into something bigger and better than it really was. Maybe then we can just move on.”

Whoa.
She thought that kiss—the one that had kept him fantasizing for ten flipping years—wasn’t as good as they remembered? He must be insane, because the idea wasn’t half-bad. He wanted the kiss to be nothing. He wanted the torment of wanting the forbidden fruit to be gone. Then again, a part of him didn’t want it gone. It simply wanted her without recourse. Which was impossible.

“It won’t work,” he said, slipping away from her as if burned. Shay was leaning slightly in his direction, and the action caught her off guard. She swayed into him, her slender body melting against his. She gasped and caught herself with her hands, no doubt a result of her hips pressed against his. He was hard, thick and pulsing with ache. He had been from the moment he’d drawn that first breath of her scent.

His hands went to her shoulders, and Caleb’s eyes locked with hers. She wet her lips—nervously, not seductively—but the impact was no less alluring. No less tempting. Suddenly, the kiss held new appeal.

Caleb slid his hands over her shoulders toward her neck, and she shivered beneath his touch. It was the first time he’d ever allowed himself to touch her like a man touches a woman.

“Shay,” he said softly, lacing his fingers into the wild mane of blond, pool-tangled locks that framed her heart-shaped face.

She lifted on her toes, closing the distance between her petite five foot two inches and his six-foot frame, bringing their lips close, a breath apart. He could all but taste her. He was going to taste her. Again. Finally.

Until abruptly, a fist pounded on the door behind Caleb. “Shay?” Kent’s voice called. “Caleb? You in there? What happened to Rick?”

Caleb reined himself into control instantly, Kent’s voice a much-needed cold dose of reality.

Shay’s hands went to Caleb’s wrists. “No,” she whispered. “Not again.” She raised her voice. “Go away, Kent!”

“Not until I find out why Rick peeled out of the driveway and won’t answer his cell phone.”

“No,” she said to Caleb. “Not this time. Not until we finish this once and for all.”

“Finish what?” Kent demanded through the door.

Shay growled low in her throat, like only a sister can at her brother. “Fighting! We’re fighting.”

“If you don’t open the door,” Kent warned, “you can add me to the battleground.”

Any minute now, Kent was going to get impatient and reach for the doorknob, which wasn’t locked. Caleb reached for Shay and pressed his lips to her ear, trying not to think about her body next to his. “You aren’t going to wake up and find out I left tomorrow,” he promised. “I’m staying.” What that meant for Shay and him, he didn’t know, but whatever it was, they had to deal with it, once and for all. Just not now.

He set her back from him before she knew what he was doing and turned the doorknob, allowing Kent’s entry. Kent was inside in a heartbeat, and like the previous time ten years ago, Kent’s timing had been perfect. He’d once again saved Caleb from a grave mistake. Had Caleb kissed Shay again, he had no doubt it wouldn’t have stopped there. Not this time. He wanted her too badly, and Caleb was smart enough to know the line between lovers and enemies was too fine to walk with Shay.

No matter how good she felt, no matter how good she smelled, Shay wasn’t the woman for him…no matter how much she always seemed to be that and more.

“Rick had not only found his way into Shay’s bedroom,” Caleb said, “he was on her bed.”

“Caleb, damn it!” she exclaimed. He was trying to draw attention away from the two of them by turning the heat on Rick.

“What?” Kent said, whipping around to Shay. “I thought Rick had more class than that. I might have to kill Rick. And you, Shay. Do you know how upset Mom and Dad would have been if they’d found you in here with him?”

“Oh, good grief,” she said, cutting Caleb a hard look. “You two talk this out. I’m going to gather everyone for gifts and cake.”

“You come back here!” Kent yelled.

Shay kept walking, but she still heard Kent mumble, “When I told Rick there was no time like the present, I didn’t know he was going to try right here and now.”

That drew Shay to a halt. She wasn’t going to let Rick’s friendship with Kent suffer because of her and Caleb. She started to turn, when she heard Caleb say, “It wasn’t like that. Shay was just getting Rick a shirt, but I sent him home before I knew what was going on.”

Despite her frustration, which was part emotional, part sexual, Shay felt her lips lift ever so slightly. There was a reason her family had taken Caleb in. He was a man of honor, a born gentleman. She sighed heavily, her breath shuddering from her lungs. Being with her would defy everything he believed in, everything he felt was right. To him, she really was that damned forbidden apple. She didn’t want to lose the garden for the fruit any more than he did, but just when he was back—to stay this time—it seemed so was the temptation to see if they could have both.

Shay chuckled as her father, a UT Longhorns season-ticket holder, unwrapped his-and-hers Texas Aggie shirts from a former coworker. The principal of the school where her mother had taught for twenty years gave Shay’s father a huge supply of coffee. Knowing how cranky Sharon was without her morning caffeine, it was a gift meant to ensure another happy forty years.

One of the final packages was a large envelope from Caleb. Shay stared at it curiously and, unable to stop herself, cast him a questioning look. He simply smiled and sipped his beer.

“From Caleb,” Shay said, handing it to her parents, and looked over her mother’s shoulder as the envelope was unsealed. Shay gasped at the same moment her mother did…at the airline tickets and hotel vouchers for a second honeymoon.

“Italy?” Shay silently mouthed to Caleb.

“It’s a trip to Italy!” Sharon said to the crowd, who gasped, oohed and aahed. “I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.”

“I remember you saying that every time we went to Olive Garden,” Caleb teased.

Everyone laughed. Sharon blushed. “It’s because they send their chefs to Italy to train. It’s so exciting. The idea of being sent to school in Italy. It makes me want a second career as a chef.”

“You can take a class while you’re there,” Caleb suggested.

Sharon’s eyes lit up before she shook her head. “We can’t accept this, Caleb. No. It’s too extravagant. What about that business you started, the Hotzone?”

“I took several lump-sum, reenlistment bonuses and bought some lucky stock. Enough to leave the Army when the time was right to open the Hotzone. And I set the money aside for your fortieth anniversary years ago.”

Kent eyed a brochure for the villa Caleb had rented for his parents. “What the heck kind of stock did you buy, man, and can I get some?”

Caleb leaned back in his chair and set his beer on the ground. “Apple before the Mac craze,” he said nonchalantly, as if it weren’t a big deal. “I bought in at the right time and stayed in.”

“No way,” Kent and Bob said in unison. Kent quickly added, “That kind of stuff never happens to me. How much did you net?”

“Kent,” Sharon reprimanded sharply, “that’s rude. We have company.”

“Right,” Kent said, elbowing Caleb. “Tell me later.”

Caleb laughed and slipped one arm up on the back of his chair, his focus on Sharon and Bob. “This trip is the least I can do to thank you guys, considering you put up with me for so many years.”

Shay’s heart squeezed at the sweetness of the words that she knew reached deep beyond the gift, into Caleb’s soul. She’d never wanted him more than in that moment. And she’d never known just how wrong it was to pursue her interest in him, either. The idea that she’d kept Caleb away from all of this was hard to swallow. But when they were together, things like what happened in that bedroom always happened. The crackling intensity between them had gradually become more like firecrackers than sparklers.

“Son,” Bob said, “that’s what families do. It’s our honor to kick, beat and harass each other, and in turn, to kick anyone to the curb that tries any of the above outside our little unit. The only thing I or Sharon want is more of your time. You need to come out to the house more often.”

“When you get back from Italy,” Caleb agreed, “I’ll eagerly come by to be kicked, beaten and happily harassed.”

Kent offered to be lead harasser, and though Shay normally would have volunteered her services as well, she held back. History said the more she teased and played with Caleb, the more their attraction bubbled into demand.

Distracted, she barely registered the final gift—a bottle of wine from their neighbor—until her mother handed it to her.

“That’s it,” Shay called out and glanced at the sun’s rapid decline.

“Poker game starts at seven o’clock,” Kent added, rubbing his hands together and elbowing Caleb. “Time to hand over some of that Mac money.”

Shay sent Kent a warning look. “Poker is hardly the romantic way to end this day.”

“That’s what Italy is for,” Kent replied. “The way Dad plays poker, he’ll have won big, and Mom can spend more on the trip.”

“You leave tomorrow,” Caleb offered, “so you need to start packing.”

Sharon jumped to her feet. “Tomorrow? I can’t leave tomorrow. The house is a mess and—”

“I’ll clean up,” Shay promised. “And you can pack. A little party mess is no reason to miss Italy.”

“You’re retired,” Caleb said. “You can make the short notice. The whole idea is to get whisked away from your party like you would from your wedding.”

“I’m game,” her father said. “In the meantime, I’ll play poker.” He kissed Sharon’s hand and held it in his. “While you do that packing.”

“Bob!” Sharon objected.

“Kent’s right,” Bob said quickly. “I win on poker night. That means you get to shop more.”

“And if you lose?” Sharon asked, propping her free hand on her hip.

Bob winked. “After forty years, you should know I never lose.”

Sharon harrumphed. “You always seem to forget that when there’s bad luck.”

Bob pulled her into his lap. “Because I have a forty-year-old lucky charm.”

Shay smiled at the two of them, her gaze lifting and brushing Caleb’s—a brush she felt to her toes. They had to talk. But not here, not today. On the phone, where they were a safe distance apart, and she wouldn’t become weak. They’d figure out a way to deal with all this tension between them once and for all—and not by kissing. Talking.
Yes,
she silently vowed.
Talking.

It was her mother that broke the connection, darting to Caleb for a big hug. Her father followed.

When the sentimental interlude ended, Caleb said, “When you get back from Italy, why don’t we plan a family outing at the Hotzone? Kent’s the only one who’s been out to jump. We have a huge grill out there. We can barbecue and make a day of it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kent said. “It’s a rush you gotta experience to believe.”

“Sounds lovely,” Sharon said. “As long as I can watch from the ground. That’s as close to jumping out of a plane as I’m getting.”

“I might just want to try it,” Bob said, his eyes lighting up with the idea.

“What about you, Shay?” Caleb asked, surprising her.

“Shay’s been taking flying lessons,” her father bragged, before she could reply. “She made a list of a hundred things she wanted to do before turning fifty, and her pilot’s license is one of her top five to-do items.”

“Really,” Caleb said. “So flying lessons and what else?”

“It’s a hundred items,” Shay said, not about to reveal the list that had “finally make love to Caleb” in a high-ranking position. “Too long to detail. But I can assure you that skydiving is not on it. Flying a plane isn’t the same as jumping out of a plane. Somehow the two just don’t mix.” She hesitated a second. “Some things,” she added meaningfully, “are just better left alone.”

His eyes narrowed. “And sometimes, you just have to jump.”

“See now,” her father said, “that’s the right attitude. Sometimes you just have to jump, Shay. You’re always so structured.”

“Hush, Bob,” Sharon said. “I’m scared enough with her taking flying lessons. That’s daring enough for our little girl.”

Shay heard her parents, even the outdated “little girl” comment—she was twenty-eight years old, after all. But it was Caleb’s words that had her mentally shaking cobwebs from her brain.
Sometimes you just have to jump,
he’d said. The past fluttered through her mind, the times Caleb had been home. When she’d pulled away, he’d pulled her back. When he’d pulled away, as he had today, she’d pulled him back. This was a tug-of-war cycle, and until now, she had never recognized it. She doubted he did because only an hour before, she knew he’d been thankful for Kent’s interruption. Now he was pursuing, and he melted her resolve all too easily.

She straightened her spine, trying to get them to the same place at the same time for once. “When you have to push the person out the door, it’s better to leave them on the ground.”

“You can jump tandem with me,” Caleb suggested. “We attach a harness and jump together.”

Kent snorted. “She’s accident-prone. She might drag you down with her, Caleb.”

“I am not accident-prone,” she scoffed.

“Think jeans in the oven,” Kent teased.

With a growl, Shay grabbed the bottle of wine and moved it to the pile of presents, needing something to do with her hands besides punch her brother. And despite swearing she wouldn’t respond to his childish teasing, she couldn’t resist an opening when he gave it to her. “That’s me. Accident-prone. I can see it now. I’ll be attached to Caleb with some fancy harness and the chute won’t open. Then we both crash onto the hard ground and die horrific deaths.”

“Oh, goodness,” Sharon said. “Can we not talk about this? I finally have Caleb home, out of a war zone. I don’t want to start thinking about the dangers of any of you crashing to the ground and dying.”

“No one is crashing to the ground and dying,” Shay assured her. “Caleb knows what he’s doing, with the exception of his suggestion that I jump with him. Fortunately, I have enough sanity for both of us. I’m not even considering it.” She held the wine up. “I’ll go chill this wine in case you want some later.” She wiggled a brow. “When you and Dad are alone.” She needed a breather away from Caleb, away from watchful eyes.

Shay headed for the house, deeming it time to change clothes now that pool-time was over. Maybe take a quick shower. Walking around half-dressed wasn’t helping her avoid Caleb.

Almost instantly though, her nerves tingled, and she knew, even before he spoke, that Caleb had followed. She could feel him. She could always feel him.

“Hold up,” he said. “I’ll help you.” He fell into step beside her as they approached the patio leading to the kitchen.

“What are you doing, Caleb?” she asked softly. “I don’t need help chilling a bottle of wine. I thought the idea was to stay away from each other?”

“Funny,” he said. “I remember you saying something about Adam and Eve and the forbidden kiss, which I’ve spent the past hour considering.” He reached in front of her and opened the sliding glass door, mischief in his eyes as he waved her forward. “Ladies first.”

“There’s nothing to consider, Caleb,” she said. “You do remember the part of my comparison that made it as insane as me tandem-jumping out of a plane with you? The part where Adam ate the apple and doomed mankind?”

“Fortunately, I doubt we wield power over mankind,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but realized this was, indeed, a conversation best had inside—away from prying eyes. Shay shoved aside the heavy beige curtain that had been left in place to keep the house cool. A blast of air-conditioning washed over her hot skin and she welcomed it—and not because of the sun. Because Caleb was on her heels, the door already shut behind him. The house was silent but for Caleb’s boots clicking on the ceramic tile, warning her there was no escape.

Shay yanked open the fridge and shoved the wine inside. She turned to find Caleb leaning on the kitchen island, a step away. “You’re in my personal space,” she said. “A good way to get some of that attention you claim you don’t want.”

“Maybe I want you in my personal space.”

“Until someone shows up.”

His lips—those full sensual lips—offered a hint of a smile…the “hint” being oh, so sexy. “I know a way around that,” he promised.

“Do I dare ask?”

“Better I demonstrated,” he assured her. And then, in a flash, he tugged her into the pantry and shut the door. A second later, the impossible happened. Caleb kissed her.