One Night With You (13 page)

“I…uh…I have to take this stuff out of the oven.”

“Damn that stuff, baby. Don't you need me?” he asked her in a voice gruff with tenderness.

She turned off the oven and rubbed her thighs with her hands, up and down. Up and down.

“Don't you want me to do that?” he whispered.

She stared at him, transfixed by the impassioned turbulence in his eyes. He stood before her wearing only his shorts, his fists balled and his legs wide apart, and her heart began to hammer out a wild rhythm as the man in him jumped out to her. Oh, she could smell the male in him breaking loose. He wanted her. And she wanted him. Zombielike, she opened her arms to him. He picked her up, carried her to the living room and sat down with her in his lap.

“I want to be inside you so badly,” he told her.

“Then stop talking and do something about it,” she said.

A second later, her T-shirt landed on the floor at his feet, his hand went into her bra, released her left breast and his warm, moist mouth began sucking on her nipple. Caring for nothing now but the feel of his marauding lips on her, she unhooked her bra and began to tug at her pants. He removed the remainder of their clothing, sat her facing him in his lap, entered her and suckled her while he drained her of her will and strength.

“Put me on the floor,” she begged. “I want to feel your power the way I did before.”

He did as she asked, and within minutes he was storming within her. The lightning flashed and the thunder roared, but she was conscious only of the man inside her, under her, around her, everywhere. She tightened around him, screaming his name, and he splintered in her arms.
Hers.
He belonged to her as she belonged to him, and she knew she would love him forever.

“I didn't come over here to seduce you,” he said. “I hope you believe me. I wanted to be sure you had light and that you could handle the storm.” He rolled over, got up and looked around for her clothes and then down at her. Completely vulnerable in her nudity. “I could make love to you all night long,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice, hoarse with desire. He got the flashlight and went to the closet in her foyer for a raincoat to cover her. “I liked what I was looking at, but I don't want to wear out my welcome.”

She slipped on the coat, grateful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks. I'll be back in a minute.”

She tripped up the stairs, and he collected his clothes, washed up in the powder room, dressed and set the table. He didn't see anything for dessert, but he found some gingersnaps and sherry and a container of Reddi Whip.

“Let's see what this tastes like,” he said, soaking a gingersnap in sherry. “Hmmm. Not bad.” He got a small mixing bowl, soaked some gingersnaps and placed them between layers of whipped cream, topped the concoction with cream and put the container in the freezer.

“It can't be too bad,” he said to himself. “Gingersnaps are good, cream is good and sherry sure is good.”

“What's holding you up there?” he yelled to her.

“I'll be down in a minute.”

“What was keeping you?” he asked when she came down.

“Try moving around in the bathroom in the dark. I forgot to take a light up there.”

He rubbed her nose. “Supper's ready. Have a seat.”

She looked at the table and then at him. “You're growing on me. You know that?”

“I'm doing my best. What was that?”

He got up and went to the window. “The water's standing over a foot deep out there, and the wind just tossed somebody's deck chair into your garden. If this continues until three in the morning, Queenstown may be a wreck.”

They finished the meal of ham, quiche lorraine, spinach and salad, and he said, “Want some dessert?”

“I'd love it, but I don't have any.”

“Really? Trust your man to perform miracles.” He served the trifle in two glass bowls that he suspected were intended for salads and brought them to the table.

“What's this? When did you do this?”

“You stayed up there long enough for me to make it. Taste it.”

She did, and licked her lips. “It's delicious. What's in it?”

“My secret. Would you mind cleaning the kitchen tonight? I have to adjust the design of the building I'm doing for Marcus, and I told him I'd e-mail the changes tomorrow. I need to get home.”

Her smile seemed to illumine the darkness that had encompassed them. She had so many ways to let him know that she was there for him. He knew she didn't want him to get soaked again, but he also knew that the alternative—remaining all night with her—was not an option.

“Considering this storm,” she said, “Marcus won't expect you to send him anything tomorrow.”

He let his shrug express what he thought of that idea. “No dice. I don't believe in excuses.”

“Would you like to wrap my raincoat around you?”

“Thanks, but I'm probably twice as big as you are. Walk me to the door, sweetheart. I need to get moving.”

“Here's your flashlight.”

He grasped her hand and walked toward the door. “Thanks.” At the door, he wrapped her in his arms and seared her with a kiss. “Good night, precious.”

She took the blanket down to the cellar, and when she got to the bottom step she stared at six or more inches of water. What on earth? Maybe a drain was clogged. Tomorrow, she'd see what Reid thought of it.

The rain continued to pour throughout the next morning. Half of her jurors failed to report for duty, and when at one o'clock the rain had not slackened she recessed the court until Monday morning and went home.

Concerned about possible damage from the storm, she put on a pair of boots and walked around her house to determine the extent of the damage, but she saw only a large amount of debris that had blown onto her property. However, when she checked in her basement she discovered that the water had risen another inch or two.

She telephoned Reid and after their warm greetings worked up slowly to the condition of her basement. “Did you finish revising your design?” she asked him.

“I did, and he's satisfied with the changes. Have you checked the back of your house, your garden and fences?”

“Nothing serious out there, but I need an architect or somebody else familiar with building structures to check out my basement.”

“What? Is this serious, or are you lonely?”

“Both. I have six or eight inches of water in my basement.”

“
Don't step in that water!
There may be a loose wire somewhere down there. I'll be over in half an hour.”

They had agreed not to see each other—at least not in Queenstown—but they
were
seeing each other, and she'd told herself not to have an affair with him and prejudice his case against Brown and Worley, but she
was
having an affair with him. Furthermore, she no longer called the shots, because he knew that if he could get her alone in a private place, he only had to get his mouth on her nipple and she'd melt. She let out a hearty laugh. If he got that far, she was already a goner.

She gathered a couple of bottles of water from the pantry and unwrapped the cranberry scones that she'd bought on the way home. A few minutes later, she heard his knock, and as if she hadn't seen him in years, she raced to the door. He stepped into the house, took her into his arms, and her world spun off its axis. He kissed her on the lips, hugged her and attempted to step back, but the quivers that he'd sent racing through her continued their path through her body, and she had to hold on to him.

“What is it?” he asked her, cradling her in his arms.

“You take some getting used to,” she said. “I bought scones. Want some?”

How much more of a man-in-charge he seemed than when he'd picked her up off the ice a lifetime ago. His smile, so sweetly seductive, and his grayish-brown eyes with their long and curly lashes sometimes seemed incompatible with his rough masculinity, but she loved the tough man as much as the sweet and sexy one.

He sat down at her kitchen table and bit into one of the scones. “You're not used to me yet?” he asked her.

“I'm comfortable with you, but I'm definitely not used to you. I don't want to get used to you, either,” she heard herself say. “Scratch that last part. It wasn't meant for your ears.”

“I see you take care of your middle, but you don't worry about mine,” he said as he savored the treat. “This is delightful.”

“Thanks. Your middle is perfect, but mine bears watching.”

“Believe it, sweetheart, and I intend to watch it every chance I get.”

“Oh, you!”

“I'll take a look downstairs. I sure hope it isn't what I think it is. By the way, let's duck out of here tonight and go somewhere for dinner. If you don't want us to go together, we'll both drive, and I'll meet you at the restaurant. There's more than one way to crack a nut.”

“You'd rent a car for that?”

“Why not? I want to eat dinner with you, and I don't want either you or me to cook it. I'll be back after a while.”

She heard his cell phone ring as he reached the living room, and she could tell from his voice that he had taken a seat and was involved in a conversation about something important to him. But she didn't listen and she didn't plan to ask what it was about. In any relationship, trust was essential. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her. After about ten minutes, she heard his booted steps and knew he'd gone to the basement.

What a rotten job! A roof-to-basement leak in a brand-new house. In a couple of years, that side of the house would have to be refurbished. He didn't rejoice in it, but if he wanted to use it, the evidence would be added ammunition for his own case against Brown and Worley. He needed tools that he didn't have, and with rain forecast for the entire weekend, he didn't want her to stay here. One live wire could cause a fire or even take her life.

“I have to go to a builders' supply store for something,” he told her when he went back upstairs.

“Then take my car.” She handed him the keys. “It's parked out front. Is the problem serious?”

He didn't want to alarm her, but he couldn't lie. “Serious enough. Thanks for the car. I'll be back shortly.” He found what he needed and went back to her house.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked him.

“Thanks, sweetheart, but I don't want you to come down here unless you're wearing rubber boots. Plastic won't protect you.” By the time he assured himself that the water had not seeped in from the ground outside but from the roof, he'd found four major flaws in the building's foundation.

Halfway up the steps from the basement, he removed his rubber boots, carried them and placed them on the mat at her front door. He had a decision to make and not much time in which to make it.

“Where are you, Kendra?” he called as he walked toward the kitchen.

“I'm in here. Are you ready for your coffee?”

He sat in a chair at the kitchen table and reached for her hand. “You have a leaking roof, and the water is running down beside a couple of pipes. Some walls upstairs are probably wet. There are some other problems. I'd like another builder to check out this house inch by inch first thing next week.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, yes. Definitely. With the rain continuing to come down like this, I can't leave you here, and Philip needs me. We got a part of the hurricane, but he got the brunt of it. When I left the estates, I told him that if he ever needed me, he had only to call.”

“And that was who called you before you went to the supply company?”

He nodded. “The only way I can handle this is to take you with me down to the eastern shore. If you don't want to go, I won't leave you here, I'll stay. You come first with me, but I need to help my friend.”

She handed him the coffee and sat down. “What happened down there?”

“The barns and stables need a major repair, tree limbs need support and there's damage to the men's quarters. I can help a lot with those repairs. His strawberries and lettuce are ready for market, and the men have to see to that. Three days of overgrowth, and they won't be salable.”

“I see. I think we should leave now.”

He stared at her. “But we have to move your things out of those closets and maybe clean up a bathroom.”

“Come on. We can put everything on the bed in the guest room.”

He followed her up the stairs, hardly able to take in his surroundings, for his thoughts were on her readiness to help him. It was not an experience he'd had with any woman other than his mother.

After they cleared out two closets and the guest bathroom, she said to him, “Go home, pack whatever you need and phone Philip. We can take my car. I'll be ready to go in half an hour.”