The Very Thought of You (16 page)

“That's worse not better. I'd rather be eye candy. I've always thought of myself as strawberry rock candy like the homemade kind I purchased during our trip to Gatlinburg.”

She shook her head. “No, too hard, too sweet and way too crunchy. You're a chocolate bar. Rich, deep and loaded with calories.”

“Dark chocolate?” He laughed heartily. “I seem to remember that you at one time were addicted to the stuff.”

“I went into Chocolate Addicts Anonymous after my twenty-sixth birthday,” she replied with a straight face while giggles bubbled in her throat.

Caleb nibbled on a piece of cheese, fully relaxed in the leather chair. He couldn't know how utterly handsome he looked like that—his brow puckered with a frown, biceps stretching the long sleeves of his turtleneck sweater.

His eyes darkened, almost midnight. “I think I have some chocolate chip cookies and candy bars stashed away somewhere. All you have to do is say the word.”

Miranda burst out laughing because that was all she could do. Somewhere deep inside her, a rational person was screaming that the Miranda Tyler she knew would never ever consider getting back together with the man who'd broken her heart. She was completely over him and looking forward to meeting the man of her dreams.

Yet somehow the rational Miranda got drowned out by the somewhat uninhibited and impulsive Miranda, who wondered what color boxers Caleb wore underneath his slacks—blue, green or white?

“Miranda?”

The sound of her name interrupted her illicit thoughts.

“I'm sorry.” Miranda blushed as she met his concerned stare. “What did you say?”

“How about a quick game of checkers before we get to work?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I'm not sure.”

“Afraid to lose?”

“No,” she bit back. “I'm just not used to leaving Kelly alone for so long.”

“She's not alone.”

“True, she's with my recuperating brother. There's no telling what kinds of trouble those two could get into.”

Seeming to ignore her response, Caleb reached over, opened a door on the built-in shelving unit and pulled out a leather-encased box.

“First, Kelly and Darren are probably sitting in front of the television playing video games, eating popcorn and drinking soda. Second, they have your cell phone number if they need you. Third, I think that you're trying to use them as an excuse because you've forgotten how to play.”

“Forgotten how to play?” She tried to bluff and then looked into Caleb's amused face. “To be honest, I haven't played checkers in years.”

“Then I promise to take it easy on you.” He laughed.

“This set looks pretty expensive,” Miranda observed. Reaching out she ran a finger over the white and red pieces. Instead of the usual plastic, she encountered smooth stone.

Once Caleb finished setting up the board, he responded, “It's one of a dozen like it. My grandfather had them made for all the grandkids one Christmas. You first.”

She took a sip of wine before placing her finger on the black checker to make the first advance.

“So I take it you're really into checkers?” she asked.

“Dad loves checkers. Some fathers taught their children sports. He taught us all how to drive a truck, ride a horse, shoot a gun, play checkers and poker. My uncles taught us how to play a mean hand of Texas hold 'em.”

“Texas hold 'em?” she asked.

“Poker. It's a family tradition that one Saturday a month, the menfolk get together, play cards and drink until they pass out,” Caleb said after taking a jump.

Miranda couldn't resist the opportunity to jump one of his checkers on her next move.

“Yes.” He sighed. “After my first fight at school, Dad brought me into his study, sat me down and we played checkers until I'd lost all my allowance for the summer. He taught me that the mind is more powerful than the fist.”

“We were all about playing cards in my family,” Miranda responded while her eyes never left the board. “My mom can play a game of spades like nobody's business. Pop, my dad, taught us all how to play poker.”

“Your dad taught you, too?”

She nodded and grimaced as he took advantage of a double jump and took two of her checkers. It was looking more and more like this wasn't going to be Miranda's night to win. “Every Saturday, my pop and his friends got together at our house to play cards in the basement. After the games were over, Pop would let Darren and I sit down at the table and play. We used jelly beans as a substitute for chips.”

“So you're a card shark? I'll have to remember that.” Caleb smiled as he moved his piece onto the last row. “Crown me.”

“Sneak,” she accused while placing a red checker over his.

“The woman is a sore loser.” Caleb rubbed his chin.

Miranda shook her head. “The game isn't over yet.”

“Spoken like a true fighter.”

“That's right.” She nodded. Placing her hand over her mouth she faked a yawn. “How about you give me the extra notes and I'll read them tomorrow? I'll have plenty of time during the day since I have to wake up early in the morning and make sure Kelly gets off to school.”

“Really? She told me that she didn't have to go to school tomorrow—teachers' holiday. Besides, it's only eight o'clock.”

She searched her memory and the answer almost made her lose a short curse word. Caleb was right. She'd forgotten that tomorrow was an in-school teacher training day.

“You're right, but it's good to keep the house on a schedule and I wake the earliest,” she babbled. “You know the saying—early to bed.”

Caleb didn't look the least bit happy as she stood up and stretched. “Guess you'll have to wait until next time before I beat you,” she boasted.

“Sweetheart, you're losing.”

Miranda cocked her head. “It's all about point of view. I'm not losing. I'm just about to make a comeback.”

“God, you make it hard to think when you look at me like that, Miranda.”

Caleb couldn't help himself as he moved to stand in front of her. He reached up and drew his thumb along her jaw, tilting her chin to him. Just one quick taste, that's all he wanted and then he'd be able to concentrate. He leaned close and brushed his lips against hers, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue. Mistake. The knowledge that he would never get enough of the woman in his arms penetrated his mind. His mouth hungered for the heady taste of her, and he needed her more with an urgency that grew each passing moment.

Miranda swayed forward to meet his kiss. Their lips and tongues played, and he tasted the red wine she'd just sipped. She was intoxicating, like the wine, filling his mouth with lushness. How long they kissed, he couldn't tell and when Caleb finally regained the willpower to end it, he still couldn't let her go. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he hugged her close. “You don't want to trust me. You don't want to care for me. Hell, you probably don't even want to like me,” he whispered. “But I feel as if we've been given a second chance. And I don't know about you but I won't let this slip away.” He rested his forehead on her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of her.

Miranda didn't know what to think or what to say. He was right. She didn't want to feel anything for Caleb, but she did. The only things that was keeping her from throwing caution to the winds and giving in to the intense emotions coursing through her veins were memories. She still had memories of lying on the carpet of her parents' house because she couldn't breathe. The panic attacks of a broken heart, and the pain of loving someone that she couldn't have.

“Look, Caleb…” she started.

He held a finger against her lips. “I know that this is too much, too soon. I need to re-earn your love and your trust. I should not expect you to let go of the past. I should expect nothing. Just don't take away my hope.”

Miranda inhaled sharply and the musky fragrance of his cologne sent another wave of passion throughout her slender frame. She looked away to hide the realization that she knew would show in her eyes; that after eleven years she was still in love with him. “Either you are the best con-artist who ever lived, Caleb Blackfox,” she said, “or the luckiest man I've ever met.” She reached up and placed her fingertips on either side of his face. “Either way, I want to make love, Caleb.”

“Tell me I'm not dreaming, Miranda.”

“You're not dreaming.”

The combination of the words she spoke and her body language were music to his ears. For years after they'd broken up he'd still dreamed of them making love, and now she was there in his house, in his arms, telling him what he longed to hear.

He didn't respond to her statement verbally, but physically. He took her by the hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom. Letting go of her hand, he kicked off his shoes and watched as she looked around admiring the décor. It was a man's bedroom with its dark wood and heavy furniture. “Does the design meet your approval?” he asked.

Her dark eyes focused on him. “You meet my approval.”

The spark of memories combined with the heady intoxication of their earlier kisses and Caleb forgot all about getting out of his clothes. It was far more important to get rid of hers. He took three steps forward and pulled Miranda into his arms. The instant their mouths touched, a passion born long ago exploded. He kissed her with everything he possessed and when her arms wrapped around his neck, Caleb felt like he was home.

Then, after regaining a measure of control, Caleb ended the kiss and gently touched his mouth to hers once, then twice. His eyes locked with hers.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, leaning closer to her lips. “Once I get you in that bed, Miranda, I'm not letting you out.”

“Good, because all I want is for you to be in,” she managed to respond. She placed a finger to his lips to convey the seriousness of what she was about to say. “What happens between us tonight happens between two very consenting adults. From the first moment I saw you at the hospital, I knew it would come to this.”

That was all he needed to hear. Caleb had done some difficult things in his lifetime, but at the moment nothing compared to how hard it was not to rip off her clothes. She must have read his thoughts because she began to remove her sweater and pants. Wordlessly, he followed suit until there was nothing between them but bare skin.

Her breasts were high, round, the nipples pebbled to hardness.

A ragged sigh escaped him. “Do you know what you do to me?”

Miranda's head was tilted back, her eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him, and he could see her losing it a little. “No…Show me,” she said softly.

Her words were his undoing. In an instant, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her over and over again. Like a starving man, he showered her neck, lips and her shoulders with kisses. Then he calmed down, exploring her body leisurely as he laid her down on the bed.

He moved his hand and gently cupped her breast, pulling his head away from her long enough to look up and catch her gaze…then he slowly guided the cocoa-tinted nipple into his mouth. Miranda hissed in her breath lightly. Caleb's other hand cupped her behind, squeezing the round flesh…then he pulled her closer, so close she had to put one hand on his shoulder to steady herself against his chest. He sucked her nipple gently, his eyes still holding hers, and then he gripped it lightly between his teeth, teasing the tip with a series of butterfly-light flutters of his tongue.

“Caleb,” Miranda groaned at the featherlight kisses against her sensitive skin. Her breathing became unsteady and her muscles weakened as his hands paid tribute to her body. She moaned out loud and his fingers seemed to be everywhere. Unable to take any more, she gripped his head and pulled him upward for a kiss. “Come inside,” she whispered against his mouth.

Caleb could barely breathe at her whispered command. When they were dating she'd leave him a note in his textbook with that phrase, and he'd barely make it through the day knowing that when he got home she'd be in his bed, naked. He didn't think it would have been possible to want her more, but somehow she'd managed to make that happen.

“Still a bossy little thing, aren't you?” he growled. Caleb took the delicate nub of her ear between his teeth and nibbled.

“Now…please…”

Caleb reached over to the nightstand, opened the drawer and pulled out a foil-lined packet. As he unwrapped one, Miranda levered herself up on her elbow and delicately began to nibble on his neck.

His hips instinctively jerked forward, and his hand hit against the headboard in an effort to keep his balance. “Woman, don't do that. I'm on edge.”

Her brown eyes seemed to glow with sensual mischief. She took the condom from his fingers. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to remain still while she slowly rolled it down the hardness of his manhood. Task accomplished, she explored him, cupped him with her soft, slender fingers. But he quickly took possession of her wrists with one of his hands and the other stroked her neck and breasts, while his lips took her mouth. Miranda opened her legs and felt him shift, fitting perfectly in place with her body.