Men of Intrgue A Trilogy (50 page)

Karen looked at him. Was that what he really thought? Didn’t he know yet how she felt about him?

“What do you mean?” she said casually. “I like peanut butter.”

They finished off the jar and then split the tonic water between them.

“Is the tap water on?” he asked. “I want to use the john.”

Karen went to the sink and turned on one of the spigots. The water came out muddy at first but soon cleared up.

“It looks all right,” she said to him. “There must be a well. These appliances are of British manufacture and seem a little quirky. The taps turn backward.”

He rose unsteadily, supporting himself with one hand on the wall. She ran to help him and they walked together to the bedroom.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” he said as he leaned on her heavily. “I was all right earlier.”

“You’re just done in,” Karen replied, opening the door to the bathroom in front of him. “You have to give yourself a chance to recover.”

“But how long is it going to take?” he asked irritably.

“Longer than you’ve given it,” Karen answered dryly. “I’ll wait right here, okay?”

He nodded and went in. Karen explored the bedroom while he was occupied, checking out the prints on the wall and the books in a case under the window. She looked up as Colter emerged, his hair wet, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

“God, I look like hell,” he said to her. “Have I looked this bad all along? I’m surprised you didn’t feed me to the fish.”

“Didn’t they have mirrors in the hospital?” she asked, grinning.

“Yeah, I avoided them. Now I know why.”

“Why don’t you sit on the bed and rest while I open up that sofa in the other room? ”

He looked at her.

“I think you’re better off in there with the fire and I’ll sleep in here.”

He waited for a long moment, then said, “Okay.”

He was being remarkably agreeable. Karen ascribed it to his exhaustion and told herself to enjoy it while it lasted, which surely couldn’t be long.

She found linens in a hall closet and made up his bed. The fire was burning steadily, and the living room was warm and pleasant. The flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, filling the cottage with an amber radiance.

When she turned to go back for him she saw that he was standing in the doorway between the two rooms, leaning against the jamb, watching her.

“You’re working very hard at this,” he said in a low tone.

“Will you stop getting up and walking around?” Karen said grimly. “I feel like I should tie you to a chair. Don’t you know enough to lie down when you’re sick?”

“I guess not,” he replied. “I’ll probably die standing up, like a horse.”

“Very funny.” She led him to the newly made bed, and there was no mistaking his sigh of gratification when he sank down on it. He turned his head on the pillow and reached up to take her hand. He put it to his lips and kissed it.

“Good night, Florence Nightingale,” he said softly.

“Good night, tough guy,” she answered.

She went to add another log to the fire, and when she looked at him again he was asleep.

* * * *

Colter woke in the middle of the night. His mouth was dry from the peanut butter and the room was stiflingly hot. Karen had built up the fire before she retired, and it was only now burning low.

He felt much better after his long nap and got up to get a drink. On his return to bed he stripped off his clothes and left them on the floor. He always slept raw anyway and the fire had made him warm.

Actually, the fire wasn’t the only thing that had raised his temperature. He’d been dreaming about Karen. Again. She kept telling him how sick he was. He might have warned her that he wasn’t quite as ill as she thought. Not too ill, for example, to contemplate certain activities with her that were guaranteed to keep him sleepless for the rest of the night.

He put one arm behind his head and pulled the sheet over him, staring at the shadow play on the ceiling cast by the dwindling flames. She was so close, right in the next room, and he couldn’t forget it.

He wondered what would happen if he just went in there and got into her bed. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. She would doubtless remind him that he’d said he wanted them to remain friends, give him two aspirin, and pat him on the head. He gritted his teeth. He was waging a war with himself and he was losing. He wanted her so badly now that he was finding it difficult to remind himself of the possible consequences of their involvement.

He just didn’t care anymore.

Suddenly the door to the bedroom opened and Colter shut his eyes, feigning sleep. He heard the padding of bare feet, and then the shifting of the logs as Karen moved them. She was stoking the fire.

He slitted his eyes and looked at her through his lashes. What he saw froze him, and he hardly dared to breathe.

Karen was wearing a floor length batiste nightgown, but as she stood in front of the fire the light shone through it, making it seem almost transparent. Her body was clearly outlined against it, and he could see her as well as if she were naked. His gaze moved over her greedily, taking in the full breasts, their taut nipples stiffened by the night chill, and the line of her back down to her narrow waist. The slight swell of her abdomen curved into a dark triangle of hair at the apex of her legs. Colter swallowed hard. He was so aroused he almost groaned aloud and had to bite his lip to stifle the sound.

Karen finished with the fire and turned, stopping when she noticed the puddle of his clothes on the floor. Her eyes moved upward to his face, and she gave a visible start when she saw that he was awake.

Colter propped himself up on one arm and extended his hand to her.

“Come here,” he said huskily.

Chapter 6

Karen stared at him. The firelight was turning his hair to molten gold and dancing along the planes of his face, making his cheekbones more prominent. The pale hairs on his tanned arm glinted in the darkened room, and the hand he held out to her was curved upward in supplication.

It was an invitation she couldn’t resist.

She hardly felt the rug beneath her feet as she crossed the floor. She bent toward him, and before she was able to sit he had pulled her into his arms.

Karen knew as soon as she felt his body next to hers that he was naked beneath the sheet. She drew back slightly but he held her fast, nuzzling her neck.

“Don’t go,” he whispered.

“Steven, I...” Karen began, but he silenced her with a kiss.

His mouth was hot, urgent, and she remembered the way he always kissed her: as if he would consume her, as if she were the most desirable woman he had ever touched. She felt the stubble of his beard graze her cheek as he turned his head, and his lips left hers to travel a path along the line of her neck to the collar of her gown. He paused there, fumbling with the buttons at the yoke.

Karen stayed his hand. “Steven, you’re sick,” she murmured.

He looked up and met her eyes. “If you say that to me once more, I am going to have it tattooed on your forehead,” he answered grimly.

“But you weren’t feeling well earlier,” she persisted.

He sat back and took her hand, moving it to his chest where she could feel the runaway beating of his heart. “Do I seem sick?” he muttered. “Incapacitated?” He guided her hand down his body to his thigh. She could feel him, stallion ready, through the thin barrier of the sheet.

“Incapable?” he said huskily.

Karen’s fingers closed around him, her head falling forward to his shoulder. “You said you just wanted to be friends,” she whispered desperately.

“I know what I said,” he replied impatiently, pulling away. “Forget what I said. I didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“You knew,” Karen said. “You had a reason for saying it and I can’t forget that.”

He seized her shoulders and drew her up to face him. “Can you deny that you feel what I do?” he asked, almost angrily.

“No.” The word came out like a sigh.

“Then what are we yammering about?”

His fingers were digging into her flesh, and when she tried to move he held her still.

“But you’ve felt it with lots of women,” Karen protested softly.

“What?” he said alertly, watching her face.

“Desire,” she murmured.

He released her suddenly and covered his face with his hands. “You are going to drive me crazy,” he said, between his teeth. “Didn’t you just tell me today Mary Lafferty said I
wouldn’t
sleep with her?”

“Yes, but that was different. You had a different reason.”

He threw up his hands in mystification. “Okay, I’ll bite. What are you talking about?”
 

“I can’t treat this as casually as you can.”
 

“What makes you think I’m treating it casually?” he asked, his eyes locked with hers.

Karen shook her head sadly. “Steven, I may not be the most experienced woman in the world but I even I can see what’s happening. Your first instinct was right. You resisted getting involved with me because you knew I would want more than you were prepared to give. But tonight you’re feeling grateful because I helped you, and we’re alone here together, and you’re saying to yourself, What the hell. Then tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe not then but sometime, you’ll be sorry and wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. Isn’t that right?”

He stared at her for several seconds, then looked away. He didn’t say anything for so long that she was about to speak again when he turned his head. There was an expression on his face she’d never seen before.

“You don’t understand anything about me, do you?” he muttered. He blinked, and she saw the rise and fall of his chest as he took a deep breath.

“What?” Karen whispered, leaning forward and touching his bare shoulder. “What is it, Steven? You can tell me.”

“I didn’t want to get involved because I know a girl like you would never stay,” he said hoarsely. “Not for the long haul. Right now I’m unusual, a new experience, and attractive for that reason. But that will wear off—it always does— and you’ll be left with me, Steve Colter. And Steve Colter doesn’t have a promising career; he doesn’t even have a steady job. He’s not the type of person you could introduce to your sister and be proud.” He bent his head. “I know what I am Karen, and I’m no bargain for any woman.” He looked up again and held her gaze. “Are you sure you’re the only one who’s taking a chance?”

Karen couldn’t reply. So this was what lay behind the smokescreen of his hurtful words at the hospital.

She reached out and touched his cheek gently. “But you take chances every day,” she finally managed to say. “You put yourself in danger all the time.”

He shook his head, not looking at her. “That’s not the same. It’s only possible to die once, and then the pain is over. But if you became necessary to me, then you left...” He broke off and shrugged. “I don’t want to miss you all my life.”

Karen leaned forward, putting her face against his shoulder. “Oh, Steven,” she whispered, “you’re just like everyone else after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re afraid of being hurt.”

He made no reply.

“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything,” Karen murmured. She looked up at him and his blue gaze met hers.

“I guess we’re both taking a chance,” she added softly.

He slipped his hand under her hair, inside the collar of her gown. He stroked the nape of her neck and she shivered with anticipation.

“Karen, I need you,” he murmured. “Make love with me tonight.”

Her fears forgotten, Karen turned willingly into his arms.

Colter held her quietly for a long moment, and Karen explored his torso with light, caressing fingers, taking care to avoid the bandage he still wore. He gasped as she traced the line of hair that bisected his middle, then sighed, disappointed, when she stopped at the sheet folded at his waist.

Colter pulled her into his lap, kissing her, and Karen wound her arms around his neck, giving herself to the experience. He smelled wonderful, warm and musky, his skin fragrant with a unique scent she clearly recalled, masculine and definitely his. He ran his hands down her flanks, seeking the hem of her gown, and Karen stiffened.

“Hey,” he said into her ear, half laughing, “this has to come off.”

“I know,” she replied, hugging him to cover her embarrassment. “But I’m a little nervous; it’s been so long.”

He pulled back and lifted her chin with his hand, searching her face. “How long?”

Karen dropped her eyes. “Two years.”

He stared at her. “Two
years
?”

“Since my divorce. And even before that we didn’t... I mean, not very often, and he wasn’t...” She stopped, mortified.

“Okay, okay,” Colter said soothingly, patting her back with circular motions as if burping a baby. “I get the picture. I’ll try to take it slow and easy, all right?”

“All right,” she whispered.