Her Foreign Affair (17 page)

All clear to her now, she shook her head at the research project she’d been about to start. No need for it now. Court could answer Birdie’s questions as the research had been intended to give her a picture of her father. No problem. She had a good start on getting all the details she could ever want. No need to worry about chasing down mysterious family histories in the case of—God forbid—catastrophic illness.

Court set the cup on the counter, one hand still holding her. “You’re quaking. Not just a little trembling, but nearly enough to register on those earthquake monitors, or what is it you Californian’s call them? Richter scales?” The twinkle in his eye gave him away. He knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I’m…c-c-c-cold.” She tried to pull her hand away, and not be charmed by his teasing, but Court stepped closer and tugged her up against him, trapping her icy hands between them, resting on his very warm chest. She had to give him credit for not flinching. “An-an-and you s-c-c-c-cared me.”

Breath choppy, head light, and knees weak, she didn’t fight, but let him snuggle her close. Oh, but he smelled good, warm, and just like…Court. She buried her nose against his lightly stubbled neck, and he pulled her tighter until she felt her body shift into alignment with his, strong arms banding about her securely, comfortingly. Just being held against all that heated male skin nearly made her cry for the cruelty of being alone so long. The months and years of being on her own stretched out in front of her, a future when she couldn’t even possibly start a new relationship. It just hurt too much to think about right now.

His chest expanded on a deep breath, and she felt a rumble from deep inside vibrate against her heart, tempting her with the promise of a future full of hugs just like this. Hadn’t he said they could be together forever? Hadn’t he implied that was exactly what he wanted? Or had he said it outright? She couldn’t remember, but since she couldn’t even think about thinking about such things…

Before her mind could take off on a flight of the imagination and talk her rational side into getting swept up in the fantasy of dreaming about just such a future, he spoke, his voice soft and very close to her ear. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I did make noise, but you were enthralled by the tin of Earl Grey you said you didn’t have.”

“I’m t-t-tired and c-c-cold,” she said through still chattering teeth, refusing to answer his accusation. She had reasons, which she had no intention of sharing with him. Hadn’t she just decided he wasn’t to be an intimate part of her life? Therefore, he didn’t need to know any more about her. Or her ritual of self torture involving Earl Grey tea.

His head dipped over hers. “I see that, I feel it, and your little heart is racing to beat the band. Why are you cold?”

“Fell asleep in the bath.”

“Thinking a cup of hot tea would take the chill away?”

Almost as well as he could just by holding her like this, but that was another thing he didn’t need to know. “Yes.”

“A good start, but I know a better way.”

His hands rubbed up and down her spine as if to stimulate her blood flow. It worked. Very well, in fact. Might not need the tea after all, actually. Damn. Wasn’t she old enough to be immune to this sort of thing? Where was menopause when a woman needed it? A hot flash would come in handy right about now. Another life moment stolen from her by her illness so long ago.

It would be so easy to stay here, to accept his comfort, to start up right where they’d left off in London. The part in the morning. Then she remembered the reception and the utter devastation she’d felt at his betrayal. The pain ripped through her as strong as it had then. “Stop.”

Unable to bear the old feelings, she tried to pull away, but he held her closer.

“Stop what? I just said I know a better way to warm you up, that’s all. Or are you letting your brain get in the way? I’ve told you before not to over-think things.”

Frustrated, and thankful for the darkness hiding the rush of heat to her face, she slapped his chest. “If you’re thinking skin to skin, think again.”

“I look at you, and I remember skin to skin, or at least I think I do. It’s been so long I think I need a refresher.” The quizzical look on his face was amusing, and seductive, and working at the long hidden feelings she’d meant to keep buried deep, but she wouldn’t let him know it. Not if she could in any way help it.

“Funny.”

He so didn’t believe her, because she could hear the smile in his voice when his lips brushed the top of her head. “Which tea do you want? I’ll make it up and bring it to you.”

Suspicion crept in, and she made no attempt to hide it. “Bring it to me where?” She pushed away far enough to look up at him.

Face as innocent as an angel, he spoke slowly and patiently, as if she were a young child. “You go snuggle up in bed, and I’ll bring your tea.”

Randi stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, as all the battle drained out of her in an instant. Why fight? He’d be gone in a few days, possibly as soon as tomorrow, why not take a little comfort, a touch of someone thinking about her? She’d grown used to Wyatt taking care of her, and for just a few moments, she wanted to be pampered again. Just a little bit. Just one mug of tea, what harm could come from that?

Court turned her around and gently shoved her toward the kitchen door. “Flavor?”

She considered her options, then shrugged. “Surprise me.”

A test, and he knew it. He’d once told her an Englishman knew how to send messages just by the tea he picked to serve. Sort of like the language of flowers. Of course she’d never ever heard any reference to such a ritual involving tea, however, Court insisted it existed. Even crossed his heart to prove his sincerity.

After a week together and watching her fascination with all things British, he’d started the game, bringing small samples of different teas and reading off their list of attributes to her. Darjeeling for celebration, English Breakfast for a bright start, oolong, black, Formosa, Ceylon, green, and any odd blend he could find. But Earl Grey had been their constant. They’d explored every variation of the tea until they found the blend she’d enjoyed most, and he’d learned to appreciate it anew with her, or so he’d said. Had he mentioned it earlier to test her? Then of course, he’d had to catch her with a tin of it in her hand. Damn the man.

In her bedroom, she started to climb into bed, still wrapped in her robe and slippers, then decided flannel pajamas and socks would be the better choice. The robe offered too little of a barrier between her and the man about to enter her bedroom.

From the kitchen came the soft whistle of her kettle, its boiling protest short-lived. Only a few minutes until Court would join her, she hurried into her deep closet, one of two that opened into the bathroom. Where had those PJs gone? These days, she mostly slept in an old T-shirt of Wyatt’s, so it took digging through several drawers before she found them buried beneath some old sweaters. She’d just shed the robe when Court called from the bedroom.

“Randi? I see the bed, but it’s empty.”

“Just a minute.”

“Where are you?”

“I’ll be out in a minute.” She pulled the top of the mannish pajamas over her head, muffling her words. She’d just bent over, trying to get a leg into the bottoms, when Court appeared at the doorway.

“I didn’t hear… Oh, there you are.”

Startled, she straightened, one leg in, one leg out.

“Oh, no need to bother with those on my account.” Court’s smile produced a surge of heat in her blood completely unrelated to tea. “In fact, I insist you leave them off. A shame to cover your mouth-watering little bum.”

Embarrassed, she laughed. “Little. Right.” Shivering still, she managed to step into the other leg and jerk the bottoms up. “I haven’t had a little bum since I was, oh, little. I said I’d be right out.” Keeping her face turned away, she dug in another drawer until she found a pair of thick slouchy socks.

“I couldn’t hear what you said, so I came looking.”

Well, he certainly was looking. She could damn near feel his gaze trying to see beneath the worn fabric, but the pajamas were too loose to reveal much. A pair she’d purchased for Wyatt, they hadn’t worked for him, so she’d trimmed the arms and legs and hemmed them to fit her while keeping the baggy fit. Perfect for cold, lonely winter nights. Now she’d found them, she’d start wearing them again. Socks in hand, she brushed past Court and marched toward the bed.

“If you think those old pajamas decrease your sex appeal, think again.” Court laughed as he followed her, snapping out the lights and plunging the suite into darkness but for the bedside lamp. “Damn, I think they might be sexier than a silk negligee.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered. Where the covers were already pulled back, she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Two heavy mugs sat on the bedside table, steam curling into the air, their murky depths softened with cream.

“Two sugars, right?”

“Not anymore, but it’ll do for now.” She kept her attention directed at pulling the socks on. When the first one proved difficult, Court took the sock from her and knelt, his big hand heating her skin before he slid the sock up over her foot. Before she could protest, he slipped the second one on, his hand lingering only a moment on her calf.

“You’re half frozen,” he said.

“I told you so. I’m quite capable of figuring out the inadequacies of my body temperature.” She tried to swing her feet up, but he stopped her.

“You’re cold enough that this calls for desperate measures.”

“What?”

Without answering, he plumped up the pillows, lifted her, then sat with his back supported by the headboard, and settled her between his bent knees, her back to his bare chest. “This would work faster without the flannel between us.” A deft twitch of his wrist flung the covers over them. With a few tugs, he had her perfectly cocooned.

“But—”

He picked up one mug and carefully pressed it into her hands. “Here, wrap your fingers around that until it cools enough to drink. It’s decaf.”

Stunned by his take charge attitude, she did as he said, offering no resistance when he wrapped himself around her from behind. Strong arms and muscular legs embraced her. A solid presence when she needed it most, instinctively she leaned against him, seeking his body heat. Sure, Court had always had a confident manner about him, but their first time in bed he’d been careful, almost hesitant, thereafter always treating her as if she were the finest porcelain. While no less careful now, he’d lost the traces of tentativeness, touching her and holding her like a man who knew his way around a woman. A man who handled them regularly. All the more reason to leave the past in the past.

“Now, what were you doing in the bathtub?”

“Trying to relax enough to go to sleep.” Like she’d be able to do that now with him around her like cling wrap.

His chuckle rumbled in his chest, the vibration a comfort at her back. “And yet, you fell asleep in the tub?”

“Yes.”

“How long were you in there?”

“An hour or so,” she said and shrugged. “Maybe closer to two.” Lifting the mug, she inhaled and recognized the English breakfast blend. A sense of relief slipped into her. Court had taken the neutral angle at the moment, saving the big guns for later.

“Why didn’t you just pour in more hot?”

She shrugged again. “Too tired. Too pruned.”

Gentle fingers slipped under her hair and touched her neck. More shivers rippled through her, but this time not from cold. In fact, waves of warmth were beginning to sink into her, melting the outer icy layer.

“Drink your tea. If you want more, the second mug is for you as well, if not, I’ll drink it.”

“One should do me.” She blew across the top of the steaming liquid and gingerly tested. “Perfect.” She sighed.

He’d always known how to brew it perfectly. Then again, he’d taught her to drink it the British way. The only way, he’d once haughtily informed her, sending her into gales of giggles. Which she’d paid for in kisses and tickles that had turned into something more. Another shiver traveled down her spine, this one making her body clench and the warmth settled right between her legs. A sip of tea chased more heat downward, straight to her stomach.

“Hm, yes, perfect,” he murmured a moment before his lips touched her neck.

“Stop,” she protested, admittedly in a very weak manner considering the ripple of raised goose bumps on her skin. Gasping out such words hardly indicated a serious frame of mind.

“Stop, what?”

Damn him for ignoring her. “Please, stop…that.” Oh Lord, his lips, right there…

Court kissed her, so softly she barely felt it, and yet, she felt nothing else, the small hairs on her neck stood up, reaching for him, stretching in erotic ecstasy. The little hussies. Didn’t they know any better than to encourage him?

“This? You want me to stop this?” His breath touched her like fairy wings.

“Yes.”

“Now I’m confused. Yes, this is the spot you like best? Or yes, this is what you want me to stop?”

His lips moved over her skin, skimming, tickling, sensuously torturing.

“Court, stop playing with me.”

“But darling, what I do best, and want most, is to play with you. Drink your tea. Besides, this will warm you faster than anything else known to man.”

“Court.” He’d surely stolen her brains. Damn the man. A huge yawn snuck in and consumed her. The aftermath left her eyes watering, her body more relaxed. She gave up resisting and cuddled closer to Court.

“Drink up, my Juliet. No poison in this brew. Only tea to reheat you from the inside out.”

Entranced by his voice, she tipped the cup at her lips and gulped down the contents. A little hotter than she liked for fast drinking, nonetheless he had a point. Heat, delicious melting heat, spread outward, racing along her veins and nerves.

“There you go, guzzling like an office worker on a five minute break.” Court took the mug from her weakening fingers. “More?”

She shook her head and leaned it against one powerful bicep. This felt so very, very nice. She folded her hands against her chest and drew her knees up close. When Court lifted the other mug and drank, she could hear him gulping it down, the aroma of the tea, sweet and creamy, comforting in a long ago familiar way. With a final shudder, her body thawed out, relaxing completely, soaking in the heat faster and faster, making her feel heavy and limp.