Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (21 page)

He wasn’t sure why she had kissed him, but he wasn’t about to question that she’d
done so.
The intensity of her kiss was more than he’d expected. Was she telling him she was glad they were no longer business adversaries?

Not wanting to spoil the mood by saying something Olivia might take the wrong way, Beau reached for her hand instead. In companionable silence they walked the trail for another half hour before turning back toward the car.

When they reached it, he sat for a moment while she buckled her seat belt. “Are there any other places you want to show me while we’re here?”
Maybe the inn, a room there?

Her voice seemed more distant, almost pensive, though she didn’t hesitate. “Actually there is, but it’s farther down the mountain. I’ll look for the turnoff.”

They were halfway down the mountain when her hand touched his arm. “Turn left here.”

He did and they followed a road that ended in a small meadow.

“You’ll have to follow me if you want to see it. This trail’s pretty narrow,” she said.

He followed her through a copse of trees so thick the trail darkened as they wound their way forward. Even the birdsong was muted until they emerged into a small meadow. In front of them lay a small lake, perfectly reflecting the mountain in its mirror-like waters. Along the slope of the lake were red and yellow wildflowers that nodded in the late-summer breeze.

“It’s magnificent,” he murmured.

“My favorite spot. I used to come here after work to sit and chill. Sometimes deer would come to feed if I timed it right.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

She nodded and grinned back at him. “Granddad likes this spot, too. I took him here the day he came up to tell me Grandmamma had died. My last year that I worked here.” Her voice caught and she brought one finger to her face.

He caught her hand then lifted one tear onto the flat of his thumb before rubbing the moisture off her cheek. “We’d better go or we’ll be late for your dinner with him,” he murmured, wishing they could stay longer. Paradise indeed.

Most of the ride back was silent. “Your grandfather said you knew The Mountain,” he said as they approached her little house. “He was right. I’m honored you shared it with me.”

“You’re welcome.” As he handed her the picnic basket, she turned toward him, one hand touching his wrist, just above his watchband. “I’m glad we had a day between friends.” Her cheeks bloomed with color before she went up the steps to her front door.

As he headed home, Beau looked at the clock. The day would not be complete until he saw her again—after she had dinner with her grandfather. 

Hours later, unable to wait any longer, Beau drove to her town house. No lights shone in the windows when
he parked in her driveway. He stopped at a nearby minimart, picked up a box of condoms and emptied several packets into his pocket.
Wishful thinking?
It had been so long since he’d imagined needing one: not since Heidi, the witch, had departed his bed and his life. He preferred to think of his new stash as advance planning—preparation—although Olivia had given him no hint that she would sleep with him. Kisses were one thing, but sleeping with her? He sensed she was the kind of woman who expected a serious commitment before making love. A serious commitment? It was something he couldn’t stop thinking about.

After his second trip around the block, he spotted
lights in her house. Her shadow, backlit, revealed her movement from the kitchen to the living room.
She must have just got home.
He climbed the steps quickly and knocked on the door. No way was he going home without seeing her again, kissing her, holding her.

She opened it, wearing a flowing white dress, her hair loose on her shoulders, a yellow rose behind one ear, probably plucked from her grandfather’s  new garden, her feet bare.

“That’s one gorgeous outfit,” he drawled. “Did your grandfather mention how beautiful you are?”

Her eyes widened, the azure color deepening at his words. “No, he didn’t.” She opened her mouth as if to say something else then closed it. “Did you forget something?”

Was it his imagination or was her voice huskier than usual?
He leaned against the doorsill then eased closer to her before pulling her into his arms.

“I couldn’t say good night until I saw you again,” he said, his voice low, and he kissed the heated skin at her throat before gazing into her eyes again. What was it he saw there? More than surprise? Desire? For him?

“Oh.” Her hands came up and caressed his face, her fingers tracing a path from ear to chin before she raised her face to meet his lips as his head descended again.

He picked her up and pushed the door closed with one foot.

She was kissing him between little sighs before he deposited her on the couch. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she said in a voice that sounded confused, and ever so sexy. “I couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything Granddad said during dinner.” She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him again.

He returned her nibbles with interest and stroked her arms and her back.  He hugged her as he breathed in her scent. She sucked on his earlobe and he was sure he’d stopped breathing as blood surged into his groin, heating the rest of him along the way.

She reached up and freed the first button of his shirt. Her mouth kissed his neck where his pulse seemed to be running a race and she caressed the skin on his chest as she freed the second button and then the third.

“What exactly are you doing, Miss Olivia,
darlin’?” He asked before exploring the nape of her neck with a necklace of kisses.

He slid his hands up the sides of her dress and pressed the outer curve of her breasts before sliding his hands forward to cup them. Her nipples hardened against his thumbs as he worked them slowly back and forth. She gasped and moved her fingers to the fourth button of his shirt.

“Your skin. I have to touch it, to feel it,” she murmured, her breath catching between words. “All of it. Your shirt’s in the way.”

“It’s not fair if you’re the only one who gets to do that,” he said. “Your skin is like silk.” And he reached around to slide down the zipper at the back of her dress. The heat she was generating in him translated into a hard ache he was sure she could feel as she pressed up against him.

“Oh, Beau,” she breathed, as she pulled away from him. “Not here,” she said, “let’s go upstairs.”

Oh. My. God. She wants me.

She rose from the couch, flipped off the light in the living room and began to walk toward the stairs, her dress barely covering her shoulders, her bare back daring him to touch it.

There was no way he couldn’t follow her.

But then she turned abruptly. “Excuse me.” She walked into the kitchen, and returned to climb the stairs, a box in her hand.

“Why Miss Olivia,
darlin’. How did you know I would be here tonight?” He grinned.

A smile slowly transformed her face as she reached for his hand and led him upstairs. “I didn’t. But since you are …”

When she turned to face him at the top of the stairs, she slid his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drift to the floor. Wherever her fingers touched him, a fire ignited. He slid his hands down her body, pushing away her dress and cupping her breasts again. Anticipating what he wanted, she opened her bra from the front and it fell away. He was mesmerized, and bent his head to trail kisses from her neck down her cleavage. She arched her back and pulled his other hand around her back, then reached for his belt. As their clothes dropped away, he brought her against his chest.

She backed away from him toward the bed, and he followed, sliding in next to her. She reached for him, and he thought he had never wanted a woman so intensely.

Her little gasps urged him to hurry, but he wanted to savor what was to come.

“Go slow, Olivia. I want this to last all night long, so we both remember it for what it is—something wonderful, something to treasure,” he whispered, and he began to trace kisses all over her face as his hands explored the rest of her. She sighed and stroked him until he thought he couldn’t stand the ache any longer.

“Olivia, I—wait. Where’s that box?”

Her eyes were barely open. In between sighs, she said, “On the side table.”

He opened it and grinned. “You read my mind.”

“Let me.” She took the first packet from him and opened it. He resumed bringing her to panting delirium. When she reached for him again, he said, “Not yet,
darlin’. Not quite yet.” When she began to protest, he assured her, “Trust me now.” He rose above her, and began to kiss her and stroke her again until she was so near to coming that he couldn’t wait any longer. When he entered her, she cried out. Or was it his own cry as they moved together? Her quivering pulled him in, faster and deeper until he exploded in a spectacular release that left him spent.

When he looked down at her, her eyes were wide in wonderment. “I had no idea,” she whispered. She wouldn’t let him go, and he savored the little
clutchings that continued while they lay entwined. A pair of tears slid down her face when he looked at her, her skin so white in the moonlight. He kissed her and she sighed with pleasure, her eyes half-closed.

“You remind me of a purring cat,” he whispered, and laughed. “Are you purring, lovely Olivia?”

She smiled at him.

“I think you haven’t been loved as you deserve in a long time.”

“Maybe never,” she murmured, and she began to stroke his chest, depositing little kisses along his chin and his neck until he lowered his face so that she could reach his lips. She lay back in his arms and gazed at him. She remained silent for a time and then she spoke, so quietly at first he wasn’t sure she was speaking, even as her hands began to tease him again. “I wish—I’d like …”

“What would you like, my sweet?” He kissed her cheek and the side of her face. “Tell me.”

“I’d like to do that again.” She sighed.

He started to laugh until she stiffened against him.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Never. I’ll tell you a little secret.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to do it again, too, and again and again and again—until I can’t do it anymore—maybe after a hundred years.”

She reached for him, and he stopped talking and allowed his mouth, his hands and the rest of him to show her how much he wanted to take her to the heights again.

They made love again that night and again before the sun rose over the mountains to the east. When Beau woke, she was still sleeping, curled next to him, her long auburn curls splayed haphazardly across the pillow.

His watch told him he had to leave, that he had to go to the office after a brief stop at his condo, no longer where he wanted to be. This was where he belonged, with her, like this. Why had he agreed to an early Sunday morning meeting with a client? He should have cancelled it when Olivia agreed to take him to The Mountain. But who knew their day together would end in a night together, too?

He rose and dressed, kissed her cheek and smiled as she snuggled closer to the pillow in her sleep. “Sleep tight, Olivia, my darling,” he whispered.

The sun was streaming in the window when Olivia reached over to touch Beau, to slide her hands over his chest, to tickle him, to experience again what no other man had helped her achieve. Her hands slid across the expanse of sheet that she now thought of as Beau’s side of her bed. But it was cold. He was gone. All that remained was a hint of his aftershave.

Her heart clutched. She gathered her clothes and tossed them in the clothes hamper before jumping into the shower, her tears mixing with the water that sluiced down her body. He had made the most wondrous love to her, and then left? Deserted her? Was that all he’d wanted—to enjoy her body and then leave? To count her among his conquests? She was sure he’d had many. No man who made love like that … no man like that … but now he was gone, with not even a good-bye. How could he
do
that? Unless the connection she’d thought they had meant nothing to him, because
she
meant nothing to him.

She wrapped her hair in a towel and marched downstairs to eat a quick breakfast. With each bite, her anger grew.

“If he thinks he’s going to get away with that, he has another think coming.” She went back upstairs, pulled on a pair of shorts and the first blouse she grabbed from her closet then ran a brush haphazardly through her curls, which seemed to have a mind of their own this morning. Maybe because of the way he’d run his fingers through her hair last night. Taming her hair would have to wait.

She’d never dreamed he would be like Ned or the first man she’d slept with. She barely remembered his name, though at the time she’d been happy to lose her virginity to him. He’d said he loved her. She harrumphed. Right. That was not love. They’d had sex, and when it was over, he’d rolled over and started snoring.

As for Ned he’d never thought of anyone but himself when they’d made love. Come to think of it, he was a poor excuse for a lover. She bit her lip and shook her head. Actually, it was just plain sad.
Why in the world did I think he was the one?
How stupid was that? She’d had no idea what she’d been missing.