Come Back To Me (16 page)

When Cara opened her eyes at last, she found her cheek pressed against James’ shirt. She was nestled into his shoulder, where she’d been sleeping soundly. His arm was around her, holding her in place. His head leaned against hers and she could feel the regular rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. Her face flushed with sudden warmth and Cara was afraid to move, reluctant to disturb James in any way, but the door to the van flew open and the other passengers began their noisy exit. James lifted his head from hers. He looked down at her and grinned. He stretched, his chest expanding for a moment against the back of her arm.

“C’mon,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her towards the door.

“I have to unpack everything.” Cara paused for an instant, just long enough to lose her balance and trip on the lip of the open door. James moved quickly to stabilize her, dropping her hand and grabbing her hips. Cara’s heart raced at his touch.

“Sorry,” he said, setting her upright. “I didn’t mean to pull you so hard.”

“You didn’t. It’s just me tripping over my own big feet.”

“I don’t think so.” James shook his head. “You’re very graceful, you know.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” She laughed. “I am far from graceful.”

“No,” he said. “You couldn’t be more wrong. You’re what I would call lithe.”

“Lithe?” Cara rolled her eyes.

“Yes, lithe.”

They helped the group unload the vans, James waiting patiently while Cara filed the intake forms, made sure everything was tidy before she locked the office. They headed toward the river and Pagliai’s. As they climbed the hill, James placed a warm guiding hand on the small of Cara’s back. She felt a thrill go through her, a tingle of electricity shot up her spine.

“You don’t have to help me up the hill,” she said, hoping he’d ignore her words and keep his hand exactly where it was.

“I’m aware of that,” James answered, his eyes crinkling. “I just like touching you.”

Cara kept her eyes focused on some nebulous point at the top of the hill.

∗    ∗    ∗

Pagliai’s famous pizza looked and smelled as appetizing as ever, but Cara was on edge, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to taste anything. James ordered a cold beer, Cara a soda. She felt awkward, shy under these unfamiliar circumstances, but it wasn’t long before James’ soothing, confident manner and his offbeat sense of humor put her fears to rest. She relaxed and attended to what he was saying in his smooth, deep voice. They discussed art, medicine, her plans after graduation, his current rotation in Infectious Disease, and the Cardiology Fellowship he’d been accepted to at Duke. He intended to leave Iowa City at the end of August, in a little over three months.

Before Cara knew it, they had long since finished the pizza and James was paying the bill.

The sun had set by the time the two left Pagliai’s.

“Thank you, James. That was fun.”

He stood still, looking at her for a moment before he spoke. “I hope you don’t mind but I’d like to walk you home.”

“It’s not necessary,” Cara said. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Let me put it another way. I’m walking you home.”

“What about your car? You left it at the Med Center.”

James shrugged. “I can get it tomorrow.”

Cara backed away a half step. The implication of his words was not lost on her. Thoughts raced through her head, reasons why he shouldn’t . . . why she shouldn’t . . . and then she shut them all up. Cara felt her lips form his name and she reached for his hand. Without hesitation, his fingers curled around hers, big and warm, safe and eager.

Cara wanted James with every fiber of her being, with every single cell. She wanted him with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. If she could let this decent man into her life, if she could expose herself to him in every way, drop her guard and let him enter, she would discover if she had healed—if time had healed her—or if she had really, truly given up all hope of ever loving, of ever connecting intimately with another human being.

James’ hand in hers, Cara led the way to her apartment. Neither spoke on the walk back. It wasn’t until they reached the house that James stopped to draw her into his arms.

“Are you certain about this? Because once we begin, there’s no going back.”

Cara buried her face against his chest. She inhaled, smiling at the scent of tomato sauce and garlic bread that clung to his shirt. Cara looked up into his warm, brown eyes.

“Yes, James,” she said. “I want you to come upstairs with me.” Cara unlocked the front door. James closed it behind them.

∗    ∗    ∗

The morning breeze ruffled the curtains. It was dawn, and Cara had finally drifted off to sleep. James cradled her warm body, pressing her close, stroking her side with tender fingers. Her hip felt soft as satin beneath his calloused hand.

He scanned Cara’s delicate features. She looked like a painting, like an angel in repose. Her shining hair lay scattered across the pillow. Her cheeks were flushed pink and he could detect very faint bluish circles under her eyes, beneath the thick auburn lashes. That was his fault. He’d kept her up all night.

Damn, she was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. And making love to her came as close to heaven as he could imagine.

What he had done? What the fuck had he gone and done? He’d fallen in love, that’s what he’d done. James Mackie had fucking fallen in love.

James had never, ever been with a woman who’d responded with such intensity to his touch. He had been concerned that after everything she’d been through in the past, Cara would be stiff and wooden, or icy and withdrawn, or hesitant, or fearful, or worse. But no, if anything, she’d been the opposite. She had welcomed him. She’d given herself to him without reservation, held nothing back. She’d trusted him to explore every silky inch of her, and she’d done the same to him, with eagerness and a hunger that had thrilled him.

God, he had never been so hard, so frequently, in the space of so few hours. Even now, even when it should be impossible, he felt himself stir as he pictured what they’d done just before she’d fallen asleep. He’d like to do it all over again so he could watch her face in ecstasy as she rode him like a wild thing. Listen to her moan with pleasure, feel her nipples peak into perfect rosebuds beneath his palms as she climaxed. Sense her body quiver around him while he drove deep inside her, pulsing with his own powerful, nearly simultaneous orgasm.

It bewildered him, the intensity with which he wanted her. James would be leaving Iowa City in three months and he wouldn’t be returning. The Fellowship at Duke would last two years and then who knew? He might go into research, he might start a private practice, he could end up in Alaska or Chicago or Hawaii or New York City. He had no idea where he’d end up. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. But he was clear on one thing, he would be with Cara. Somehow, somewhere, she had to fit into his future. She was the one he wanted.

James didn’t make decisions lightly. The decision to apply to medical school was long-planned. The Cardiology Fellowship had been in his head for years. James had always prided himself on his serial monogamy. He’d never cheated on any woman he’d dated, but he’d never even once considered committing himself to a woman for longer than a few months, certainly not for a lifetime. This one night with Cara had been an epiphany. She was young and James wanted her to graduate from college and start work on her Master’s, but he would marry her. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not this year, but when she was ready.

James could be quite determined, even ruthless, when he set his mind to something. He did not intend to let Cara slip away, especially not now. He tightened his arm around her, possessive. Cara didn’t wake, but she murmured in her sleep, throwing a long leg over his thigh. James smiled. He didn’t have to be back to the hospital until Monday morning. They had the entire day and night ahead of them and he intended to make the most of it. Done thinking, decision made, he closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

∗    ∗    ∗

Cara didn’t know whether to dance, laugh, sing or simply yell at the top of her lungs, “James Mackie just fucked my brains out!”

She did none of those things. Instead, she turned towards him. He lay on his back, his breathing quiet, even, peaceful. Unable to resist, Cara put her lips on him. She started at his forehead, kissing her way down his face, over his closed eyes, kissing the tip of his nose, paying special attention to his soft and sensual lips, trailing light butterfly kisses along the firm line of his jaw, rubbing her lips over his delightfully rough day-old beard.

Cara could tell he was awake now because the corners of his mouth turned up. He managed to keep his eyes closed as she continued her ministrations, nibbling lightly on the tendons of his neck and the muscles of his shoulder. She knew he had come fully awake when the sheet began to tent above his groin, as she nibbled and licked her way down to his small, hard bud of a nipple and pressed her warm mouth against it, tugging on it with her teeth and rolling it with her tongue, while her fingers explored other regions. James had a body to die for. And he knew exactly how to use it.

When they’d walked back to her apartment, Cara had no idea she would respond to him the way she had. She’d surprised herself. Somehow, without even realizing it, over the past two years it seemed she’d healed. She’d just needed the right person to bring it to her attention, a person like James, but only James.

She found herself flipped on her back, his grinning face above her. Cara laughed.

“Are you too sore? Because I want to fuck you right now. But we can wait a while. There are other ways.” He slid his erection along the inside of her thigh, spreading her legs.

Cara opened her legs wider and wrapped her calves around his, inviting him in. “I’m sore,” she said. “But in a good way.”

∗    ∗    ∗

James could feel her welcoming warmth. “Then you don’t mind?”

“Um-um.” She slipped soft hands over the curve of his back, cupping his buttocks.

He entered her with care, as if a single thrust might break her. He heard her sharp intake of breath and he stopped for a moment, searching her face, afraid he had hurt her.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not sore. It’s not that. It’s the feeling I get when you first . . .” she paused, “with that first thrust. I can’t explain it. It feels so powerful, so natural, so . . . It makes me want to come the instant you get inside.” She finished her sentence in a rush.

James took her face in his hands and kissed her lips. “Good,” he said. “That’s the way it should be when two people love each other.” He moved within her again.

Cara tossed her head back, gasping. “Do we, James? Do we love each other?”

“Yes, Cara,” he said. “Yes, I believe we do.” He thrust again, deeper this time. Her hips arched toward him in response.

“Oh God!”

James was careful, he was gentle, and above all, he was thorough with his lovemaking. He saw the tears on Cara’s cheeks when at last he reached his own climax. He held himself as still as he could for fear of hurting her. Shudders racked his body and a deep groan escaped his lips. He leaned over her, panting, unwilling to rest his entire weight on her. Cara’s slender arms reached out for him and she pulled him down onto her chest with surprising strength.

“I love the weight of you,” she whispered. “Don’t hold back. Don’t ever hold back. You won’t hurt me.”

James lifted himself up on his elbows and smoothed the hair away from her face. His thumbs followed the tracks of her tears.

“Why are you crying, Cara?”

“Because of you, because of what you’ve done for me.”

“What have I done?”

“Made love to me, you’ve made love to me. And I’ve realized . . .” She stopped in mid-sentence.

“Yes?”

“I’ve realized that it’s safe to make love you.”

James understood what she meant. “It’s more than safe,” he said. “It’s the right thing to do. It’s perfect. We’re a perfect fit.”

James slid out of her and rolled onto his back, taking her with him, enfolding her in his arms. Cara sobbed while he held her, soothed her. He understood the tears she shed as no one else in the entire world ever would. It was time she let them go.

∗    ∗    ∗

“So do you have eggs?” asked James as he rose from the bed and pulled on his trousers. “And bread and cheese and butter and syrup?”

“You’re making breakfast?” Cara giggled.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Breakfast is my specialty.”

“A man who cook? Let’s see. You can cure infectious disease, make love all night long like a superhero and you’re good in the kitchen. What more could a woman ask?”

James chuckled. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Infectious Disease is my least favorite rotation, so I put it off ’til the end. My culinary expertise consists primarily of stovetop macaroni and cheese, Rice-a-Roni, and hotdogs stuck on a fork and cooked over my gas burner. And . . .” James cleared his throat and winked at her. “The past twelve hours were an aberration. I may not be able to get it up again for a year.”

Cara gave him a big smile. She wrapped the sheet around her and turned onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him dress. “That would be a shame,” she said. “A damn shame. I was sort of thinking we could maybe . . . Well, I have a really nice claw-foot tub in my little bathroom.”

“I noticed that,” he said. “The thought did cross my mind. But I need to eat and so do you. So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have eggs, cheese, butter, bread and syrup?”

“Yes, sir, I do. I have eggs, cheddar cheese, whole wheat bread, butter and maple syrup. That’s all you need?”

“A frying pan and a couple bowls.”

“Of course.” Cara started to climb out of bed, intending to help him.

“Uh-uh.” He wagged his finger. “You stay right there. Naked.”

Cara raised her eyebrows.

“Naked.”

“What are you making?”

“Cheese Frenchies.”

“With maple syrup?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” James disappeared into the tiny kitchen.

Cara lay back on the bed. She covered her mouth with both hands, holding back a shout of joy. She kicked her legs against the sheet in exuberance.