Cypress Nights (15 page)

Looking into his face was dangerous. Even glancing at his tall, well-made body made her stir. She hadn't forgotten what had happened when they'd been together here before. Only the way he'd brushed off her responses in the past kept her from apologizing again.

“Bleu,” he said. “I can't leave you here like this.”

“It's too late for me to get a room at Rosebank. I'd wake people up.”

He moved rapidly, enclosed the back of her neck in one of his hands. “Okay, I'm taking charge.” When he turned her away from him, short of putting up a ridiculous fight, she had no choice but to let him push her along in front of him, toward the stairs.

At the bottom, he stopped and ran his warm hand down to her waist. He gave her a gentle shove. “Up you go and you'd better be asleep fast.”

Of course, he didn't know the kind of fear she felt up there.

“I'll be down here,” he said. “I'm tired enough to sleep on the carpet.”

“Oh, no you don't. Good night, Roche. You're a kind man, but go home.”

“Get up there,” he said, pointing upstairs and giving her an unconvincing frown. “Now.”

“
No.
Thank you for caring, but no. I feel totally ridiculous now and that'll help make me brave. Good night. And thank you for coming—you've helped me a lot.” Determination not to look like a fool probably made most people tougher. Bleu wasn't tough and didn't feel tough. Embarrassment made her want to disappear.

With his arms crossed and his weight on one leg, he stared at her—militantly. Finally he sniffed and said, “Fine. I'll go.”

She nodded, and he opened the front door.

A rush of wind surprised her. The weather was changing.

He just stood there.

Bleu cleared her throat, which didn't do a thing to stop her heart from jumping around. “Drive carefully,” she said.

Roche didn't move or answer.

“Y'know, Spike hasn't had long to work on the case,” she said. “But we'll probably hear something tomorrow. Call me if you find out first.”

He closed the door softly. “I'm not leaving unless you can manage to throw me out. You could ask Spike to do it for you, but that might not look so good for either of us.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “And it's getting later. Time has a way of doing that. Why don't you go back to camping in your Coke booth? I'll stretch out on the floor. I've had plenty of practice.”

Bleu didn't believe him. And she didn't know what to say next.

“Or I'll take the booth and you lie on the floor,” he said with a faintly evil smile.

“Some people would say you're torturing me,” she said.

“That's a nice thing to tell me.” He grimaced, turned the corners of his mouth way down. “I'll just make myself comfortable while you decide which four-star bed you want.”

In one fluid motion, he dropped to the floor and lay flat on his back with his arms crossed under his head.

More amused than angry, more jumpy than afraid of
him being there, she said, “I'm not talking to you anymore tonight.” She opened a cupboard and hauled out the thin duvet and two pillows she used in winter—and when she holed up down here. “There.” She dropped them on top of him. “Sweet dreams.”

Her heart pounded in her throat now and she felt sick. In the few seconds she watched him, he didn't move a muscle under the pile of bedding.

“Good, then,” she said, and pounded upstairs. “I hope you get rug burns.”

R
ain and thunder woke him up.

Drops glittered on the windows, slapped harder and faster until they ran together in a wash. The thunder wasn't too far off.

He could see the clock on the microwave—3:40. Hardly any sleep. He hoped Bleu wouldn't be woken up by the cacophony.

Roche pushed up to his elbows and smiled slightly. She might not have believed him, but this wasn't the first time he'd slept on a carpet. Tonight, he preferred it to that five-star hotel.

What if she was afraid of thunder and lightning? A lot of people were, particularly if they suffered from panic attacks or were simply overly fearful and sensitive. He thought Bleu was highly sensitive, not an easy condition to control without a lot of work.

Thunder rolled, and rolled.

Seconds later lightning split the sky, from as far as he could see into the heavens, to the land. It made its cut like the scar from a jagged blade.

He got a quick image of the wound in Jim Zachary's neck. Bleu would see that vividly for longer than he would.

The crackling faded away, and the rain sounded louder.

Roche got up and took the pillows and coverlet with him. He went to the bottom of the stairs, dropped to his knees and drew the blanket around him.

Dwelling on the deepest reason for his being there disturbed him—confident sophisticate that he was…Was Bleu the kind of challenge that aroused his hunter instincts? He'd never thought of himself as the conqueror type!

He lay down, pulled the pillow beneath his head, glanced up and started.

“Bleu,” he said, and sat up again. “What are you doing?”

She lay curled up on the top step, and he could see that her eyes were open.

“Go to sleep,” she said and rolled over, showing him her back.

If he went up there, he would be taking advantage of her. If she let him go to her, it would be out of her need for comfort.

Could he comfort her? Could he be near her and not test to see if she would respond to him?

He lay down again and closed his eyes.

Shit, if she fell asleep and rolled over again, she'd fall down the stairs.

Scuffling followed and he opened one eye a little.

Bleu looked down at him again. She put a hand under her cheek and watched him.

“Don't panic,” he said. “I'm getting up. If you think you can manage not to freak out, I'll come up there and you can get back in bed. I like being on the floor, and one spot is as good as another.”

“I'm going to be embarrassed over this for the rest of my life,” Bleu said. “
Please,
go home now.”

“Sure, and find out tomorrow how you fell down here and broke your neck.”

“You're superstitious,” she said.

“Huh?” He'd never been accused of that before.

“You're afraid if you leave me, something will happen and then you'll have to live with all the ‘what ifs.' Mostly, ‘What if I'd stayed—it wouldn't have happened.'”

He thought about it. “There's some of that. Look, I could sit outside in my car, if it'll make you feel better.”

“It won't.”

“Okay, put up with me till morning and tomorrow I'll talk to Spike about a twenty-four-hour surveillance setup. He can help us find the right people for that.”

She sat up again. “I can't afford that sort of thing and, before you offer to pay for it, I would never let you.” After a pause, she said, “You are one terrific man. And I hope you don't have rug burns. That was a stupid thing to say.”

“If you said it, it was. I didn't hear you.”

Bleu pulled her legs beneath her. Coming off as immature irked her, but some things were more than hard to overcome.

“Roche?” She
would
get past this irrational suspicion of all men. “It's nice to have you here. I know I'm safer with you.” A huge breath didn't calm her down. “If you're comfortable with the idea, why don't you come up here and lie down? I'm going to feel even worse tomorrow, if you haven't slept all night. I just don't want you on the floor anymore—it's awful.”

Roche thought about it for a long time. He hadn't been invited because she was ready for him to make love to her, just to sleep. Lying with her would be so nice, but he wasn't completely sure of his iron control.

“You don't have to come up,” she said. His silence told her he didn't want to accept her invitation. How awful.

“Shall I bring this bedding?”

Rational thought abandoned Bleu. “Um…a pillow.”

By the time he reached the top, she stood beside a mattress on the floor. Even in the gloom, he could see how wide her eyes were.

Sure he could be close to her and not turn into an animal. He breathed through his nose.

He had always chosen his partners carefully.
No fragile flowers in that bunch.
He couldn't control his thoughts of how it would be to share hot nights, and days, with Bleu.

Downstairs, that's where he should have stayed.

“Roche?” Bleu said softly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Nothing.”

“Where do you want me?” he said. Oh, hell, if only she really knew.

“Which side of the bed do you prefer?”

Something like a small scream sounded in his head. “Ladies first.” His nerves pounded. “You choose. I'll take what's left.” The mounting excitement would be a bear to control.

A diminutive figure, her hair catching speckles of light, Bleu went silently to the side of the bed nearest the window. She slid beneath a sheet on the mattress, wiggled and wriggled and pounded her pillow, then became utterly still.

Roche walked carefully to the vacant side and lowered himself to sit on the edge.

Bleu sighed. She tried to hold her breath, then made sure she breathed regularly.

Inch by inch, she pushed to a more central position on her portion.

Her stomach clenched, and she couldn't make a muscle in her body relax.

Slowly, with the sheet over her face, she rolled onto her back, stretched out her legs and folded her hands on her tummy. Now she'd appear relaxed.

There were some patients out there, Roche thought, who were enjoying explosive sex lives because he had taught them how to pleasure a partner by putting his or her needs first. He could have all that. Sure, he could.

Wind joined the rain and a howl set up. The window panes rattled.

He heard Bleu sigh.

She'd stopped moving behind him, and the silence jostled at his eardrums. The only sound he heard clearly was his own very shallow breathing. Shortly, he'd find out if this development would make or break his hopes.

Roche put the pillow he'd carried upstairs on the bed, shucked his jeans and got in beside her. “We're grownups,” he told her. “There's nothing to feel anxious about. Relax, Bleu. I intend to.”
Lying could become a habit…fast.

Bleu lay so still, she might have been dead. He slid his eyes sideways to look at her, a bump under the white sheet. God, she even looked like a corpse.

“Roche?”

He jumped. “Mm. You all right?”

“Great.” They lay, side by side, outstretched and unmoving with a few virginal inches of space between them. “We'll both sleep better now.”
Lying can be justified.

“I'll feel safe.” She'd like to. His strong body gave her security, but “safe” would have to be worked on.

He could tell she was holding too still. And she trembled lightly but steadily.

“I'm going to move,” he said. “Don't jump and don't run. For God's sake, don't run away. I don't think I could take that.”

Carefully, he turned onto his side, facing her.

“I'm not going to run.” She could feel him watching her. “I don't have anywhere to run to.”

Roche wished she hadn't added that.

“Relax,” he said. “You're stiff.”

“Yeah.”

“I don't blame you. If I were in bed with a maniac, I'd be stiff, too.”

She laughed, and his muscles softened a little. Once in a while, a gamble paid off.

“Glad I could amuse you,” he said.

Slowly, he smoothed her shoulder. Again and again, he swept from her neck to her wrist and back again.

Bleu didn't make a sound.

From her wrist, he shifted his hand to her tummy, touching her lightly. “Let yourself go,” he said into her ear.

“We're supposed to be sleeping,” she told him, fully aware that when she'd asked him up here, she'd been ready for a dangerous experiment. He wanted to make love to her and she wanted it, too. She just didn't know if she could do it.

Roche rubbed circles on her belly. Layers of fabric separated him from her skin, but his hand might as well have been on her naked flesh.

Roche wanted to move down her legs, but it was too soon.

When he kissed her shoulder, then opened his mouth enough to damped her T-shirt and pajama top, she turned rigid again.

Why not try practicing what he preached? Take it slowly, build her pleasure, make it about her…and hope he could find satisfaction.

Thunder sounded again.

She shifted closer to him.

Roche inched downward in the bed slightly. Some things couldn't be softened or hidden—not until they were ready.

He knew the difference between his feelings for women in the past and what was happening to him with Bleu.

It scared the hell out of him. Before, it had always been physical—a need to be met, then move on. Just smile and be grateful for the outlet. With Bleu, his mind, his brain, his emotions were involved. He cared about her feelings and how it would be for her if they were intimate—and afterward.

“You still okay?” he asked her. “Storms bother you, don't they?” She felt incredible to him. He could settle for this for a long time if he had to.

“Sometimes.” In fact she enjoyed the thrill of realizing the weather's force. “How do you think Cyrus would feel about us—like this?” she said.

“Jealous.”

She landed a pointed elbow in his side. “That's not the way you talk about a priest.”

“The priest in question is a man in every sense of the word, if I ever saw one. I wouldn't want to live with his pain.”

“It's sad,” Bleu said. “I think he loves Madge and she loves him.”

“You won't get any gold stars for that deduction,” he told her. “It's obvious, and I hate it for both of them.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a moment later, lightning seemed to shoot directly at the window.

Bleu pulled the cover over her head and squirmed until her face rested in the hollow of Roche's shoulder. Automatically, she raised a knee across his thighs.

Her breasts got heavy. The nipples burned. He kept on rubbing, sliding back and forth from hipbone to hipbone and occasionally squeezing her hip.

Swallowing, swallowing again, she grew hot. He was a hard man in every way.

The noise faded, and after several deep breaths, she made to move away again.

He held her where she was, and she became a statue.

“Comforting each other is no sin,” he told her. “I don't know what happened to you in the past. I hope you'll explain it one day. In the meantime, would you hate it if we spent a little time in each other's arms?”

Would she? The answer was a no-brainer. Bleu's throat felt as if a chunk of wood had been stuck there.

“I couldn't hate being with you,” she said, wondering if he would hear her.

He did. “Thank you,” he said. “I've got a lot to find out about trusting and learning…. I want to learn to be what a woman needs. To be what you need.”

She swallowed and wondered if she could be what
he
needed. Oh, but he felt so good. Big, solid, warm and protective. She had never had any of those things.

“What are you thinking?” she said. “Why is it important to please me?”

“It just is. And you're gentle—different from women I've known. You need to teach me to be gentle.”

She rested her head back on his shoulder and couldn't believe she was here at all.

Roche pulled her into his arms. He smoothed the front of her neck, and her breastbone—again and again. He
lulled her. With his other hand, he slipped just inside the bottom of her T-shirt and made soft circles with his palm. Bleu felt she was melting.

“I wouldn't push you if you wanted to stop,” he said. “Do you believe me?”

“I guess so.”