One Summer (26 page)

“Angel—”

“Don’t call me Angel.” Thin shoulders beneath the Camp Rainbow T-shirt slumped. She looked as miserable as he’d ever seen her. “Angels are people who died and went to heaven. I don’t want to be dead, so that’s not my name anymore.”

Where the hell had that come from? Just a few minutes ago, she’d been happily belting out the stupid angel pizza song, which was her favorite because she’d decided it was about her.

“Okay.” Johnny wished, not for the first time in his life, that some superhero—Batman would be cool—would come racing up in the Batmobile and take care of things. Of course, with his fucking luck, he’d probably get Robin. “What’s your new name?”

That stopped her for a minute. She tilted her head as she considered the problem.

“Jasmine,” she decided. “She’s my favorite Disney princess, because she’s pretty and brave and has adventures.”

She nodded as the idea sank in. “And she ran away from the palace when her father was going to make her marry a bad prince. Then almost got her hand cut off because she didn’t know about money and gave an apple to a poor boy. But then Aladdin rescued her. And they fell in love.”

She nodded again. This time with more enthusiasm, causing curls to bounce. “That’s my new name—Jasmine.”

Johnny blew out a relieved breath as the light came back into her eyes. Another crisis averted.

Although she certainly hadn’t lived the life of a cloistered nun, well, at least until she’d broken up with Ethan, neither had Charity ever allowed herself to go to bed with a man she’d known only a few days.

Having lived through the wreckage that Amanda’s quicksilver temperament and rash decisions had left in their wake, she’d worked to take a different life path.

She’d spent most of her life planning every deed, censoring every word, avoiding attention, and, until the day she’d thrown away months of wedding planning, avoiding confrontation.

She’d told herself she was happy living in Shelter Bay. Which was true. She loved the town, the people, the spectacular Pacific Northwest location. She’d made friends, and she had the satisfaction of knowing that every time she placed a homeless pet, she not only saved the animal’s life but enriched the life of its owner.

But now, as Gabe drove back over the bridge toward the coast, Charity realized how much of a toll repressing her sensual self had taken on her. During dinner, although somehow they’d managed to keep a fairly coherent conversation going, every time his eyes, as watchful and hungry as a wolf’s, looked at her as if he wanted to rip her dress off and ravish her right on the Sea Mist’s patio, an insane part of her had been hoping he’d do exactly that.

Emotions, feelings, sensations, were all flooding over her, as if escaping from a breach in a stone dam.

The sky was darkening quickly. A first star winked brightly to life.

What?

And wasn’t that the problem?

She’d been outrageously attracted to Gabriel St. James the moment she’d spotted him, all serious glower and radiating testosterone as he’d taken those photos at Cole and Kelli’s wedding. Which was why she’d made the effort to get past his shields. With less-than-encouraging results.

But then he’d shown up on her doorstep and if she’d believed in fate, which she didn’t, she would have thought they’d been destined to meet. Especially since if Winnie had gone into labor ten minutes earlier, she would have left the reception without ever getting up the nerve to talk to the man.

It wasn’t as if she were some moonstruck teenager. During the day, she’d managed to keep thoughts of him at bay as she’d focused on her work. On her patients and their often stressed-out owners.

But during the night … oh, that had been a different story altogether. He’d invaded her sleep, with carnal dreams of clothes ripping, and big strong hands bruising, and her crying out, begging for release, as he’d drive her higher and higher. But then, in the morning her damn alarm would go off, leaving her hot and bothered amid tangled sheets.

Maybe she was making a mistake, leaping into a sexual affair with him so soon. It wasn’t as if he were offering her a future. And despite what he’d said about sticking around for the entire camp, what did she really know about him? Except for the obvious. That he was a rolling stone. A hot, unbelievably sexy rolling stone that could make her shiver all the way down to her toes with a mere look. And have her feel as if her bones were melting like a sand castle at high tide with his touch.

She deserved this, dammit! After a lifetime of behaving responsibly, of putting everyone else’s needs ahead of her own, she deserved a hot summer fling.

And who better to have it with than a man who wouldn’t be sticking around to complicate things once the earth turned, the leaves changed, and her comfortable, predictable life got back to normal?

The Hi-Tide campground was small, each site tucked away beneath the trees near the edge of the cliff.

“Wow.” Pulled out of her introspection by the sight of the rising moon glistening on the waves, Charity caught her breath. “There are people who’d pay big bucks for this view.”

“According to the owners, they’ve had offers to sell to developers with deep pockets over the years, but they grew up camping here when their parents owned it, and they want to keep it so other kids can experience the fun they had.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I thought so when they told me about it.” He leaned across the console and cupped his fingers around the nape of her neck. The pressure, while not painful, still made her tremble. Just a little, but she knew he’d felt it.

“You realize”—his deep voice caused her heart to thrum—“there’s still time to change your mind.” His eyes, silvered by moonshine, focused on hers. “But once you come inside, you’re mine.”

The claim of possession could have been either promise or threat. Since it echoed the dreams of ravishment that had tormented her sleep, Charity took his words as a hot, glorious, nerve-tangling promise.

But the common sense that had served her all her life made one last attempt to make itself heard.

“This is all happening so fast.”

“Not fast enough. I wanted you the minute I saw you.”

“I certainly couldn’t tell. You were so caught up in your work.”

“I had a job to do. And you, sugar, were a major distraction.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“Good. Because it is. I almost went after you.”

“I almost expected you to,” she admitted.

“I should have. But the fact that I wanted to was even more reason to leave.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I was on my way out of town when the dog got tossed from that van.”

“Which brought you to me.”

“Yeah. Which leaves me thinking that, just maybe, there are times when all the stars and planets are in the right place, the gods are generous, and two people meet and click right off the bat.”

She tilted her head. He’d opened the moonroof on the Jeep during the drive from town, and she assured herself that it was the cooling breeze blowing in from the ocean, and not anticipation, that shivered over her bare skin.

“Do you honestly believe in fate?”

“I didn’t. But since meeting you, I’ve got to admit that I’m rethinking the concept.” He hit the button, closing the roof. “Especially the part about gods not taking kindly to people who reject their gifts.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to risk the wrath of the gods.”

“Wise woman.”

It was only a few feet to the door, but it seemed like a mile as Gabe resisted the urge to just scoop her off her feet and carry her to bed. And wouldn’t that set tongues wagging? While he’d never been one to let gossip bother him, he also wouldn’t be the one having to live with it.

One of the first things the military taught him was that a failure to plan was planning for failure. So he’d taken time to set the stage this morning before leaving for the camp. Just in case.

He’d changed the sheets, put fresh towels in the bath. He already had candles, for power outages, and a quick run to Sofia De Luca’s Lavender Hill Farm had resulted in some sweet-smelling heirloom roses. She’d even provided a vase, something he hadn’t thought of. Which definitely showed how long it had been since he’d thought about romance.

She drew in a breath as she entered the bedroom and viewed the flowers, along with the bottle of champagne he’d set on ice next to two flute glasses he’d seen in one of the shop windows. Blue stemmed, they’d been hand painted with a coastal scene.

“Oh, you needn’t have gone to so much trouble,” she said. “I don’t need all the romantic trappings.”

“I know.” He flipped a switch and sent slow, seductive music flowing out of the hidden speakers in the walls and ceiling. “But it seems I do.” Flames sparked and began dancing as he took a match to the wicks of the white candles. “Besides, it occurred to me that the breaking of a two-year moratorium deserves more of a celebration than a quick roll in the sheets.”

“I’m all for celebrations,” she said mildly. She picked up the bottle of wine and studied it. “I don’t know anything about wine. Especially champagne. But I do love the flowers on the bottle.”

“I don’t know all that much, either,” he said. “But the guy at the market assured me this is a good label. And the flowers reminded me of you.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. Now I’m definitely going to have to taste it.” She put the bottle back down on the built-in dresser and turned toward him. “Later.”

She took a deep, ragged breath. “I’m sorry.” He prepared for her to change her mind. “I really, really want this.” Color drifted into her cheeks. “But it’s not turning out to be as easy as I’d imagined it would be.”

Gabe looped his arms lightly around her waist. “I’m not sure it should be all that easy.” He’d sensed from the beginning that nothing about this woman was going to be the least bit simple.

But still he’d stayed.

He kissed her. A soft, satiny meeting of lips. A mingling of breath. Then slowly slid the sweater off her shoulders, folded it, and carefully placed it on a chair.

Then skimmed his fingertips along the bare skin he’d been dying all night to touch, pleased by her slight shiver.

She was soft, but far from safe. Yet even knowing that, Gabe wanted her. Too much for comfort, too much for sanity. But like a man beguiled by a mythical siren, he lowered his mouth to hers once more and allowed himself to be bewitched.

He’d vowed to take things slowly. Carefully. And not just for her, but for himself. He wanted to savor this moment, to create a memory they could share even after he’d left Shelter Bay.

Scents. They rose from her warming flesh, surrounding him in a fragrant cloud. As he breathed them in, Gabe knew he’d never see flowers again without thinking of this woman.

Tastes. The honey taste of her lips, the sweet, moist sunshine taste of her throat beneath his lips lingered on his tongue, spun in his head.”

Feelings bombarded him. Emotions too numerous to catalog rushed over him, until he felt as if he were drowning in them.

“I dreamed of this,” she murmured as she slipped her hands beneath his shirt and ran them over his back. “I’ve been dreaming of you.” She pressed her lips against his neck. “Wild, wanton, wonderful dreams.”

Her breathless admission caused whatever blood that remained in Gabe’s head to flow south. He pulled out the pins, as he’d been imagining doing during dinner. Then, tangling his hands in her hair, he kissed her hard and long. Needs flowed out of him and into her. Desire flowed out of her and into him.

Her body was soft and pliant, but he could feel the strength there, as well. She was forged steel in shimmering silk. Gabe found the combination impossible to resist.

Ever since he’d lost his virginity during a hot, sweaty, uncomfortable, and over-way-too-soon tumble in a Trans Am parked out in a Lowcountry marsh, Gabe had regarded the taking off of a woman’s clothes as merely a necessary prelude to sex. But now, as he unzipped the dress, letting it drift to the floor, he realized that undressing Charity was as sensuous an experience as the heady tastes of her kisses.

And when he viewed her standing there, in only a strapless black scrap of lace, matching panties so skimpy she might as well not have bothered with them, and high-heeled sandals, Gabe was slammed by a punch of lust.

“You know how I thanked you for wearing that dress?”

A flush, the twin to that in her cheeks, bloomed on the crest of her breasts. “I seem to recall that.”

“Well, that goes double for this.” He rubbed his fingers along the lace, his knuckles brushing the rosy skin. Having always enjoyed contrasts, he liked discovering this sexy part of her personality that she kept hidden away. “Did I mention how hot you are?”

“I could say the same thing about you,” she said. “But you’re wearing way too many clothes.”

She set to work on the buttons of his black shirt, folded it back, and pushed it off his shoulders, tossing it uncaringly onto a padded bench.

Her soft hands fluttered over his shoulders, moved down his chest, across the thick shrapnel scars dotting his torso beneath the globe and anchor tattoo.

“What’s this?”

He shrugged. “A souvenir of a mission that didn’t go entirely as planned.”

“You’re lucky it didn’t hit your heart.”

“I’ve always been lucky.” Forcing a careless shrug, when his body wanted to tremble, he ran his hand down her hair. Gabe was feeling awkward and clumsy. No other woman had ever made him experience either reaction before. “Which you being here with me tonight proves.”

Because thinking about war wasn’t his favorite thing to do any time, but least of all when he was on the verge of taking a beautiful, sexy woman to bed, he kissed her again, a long, lazy exploration of tastes that had her lips parting on a throaty moan.