“At least swim closer to the shore.”
“No,” she shouted. “I won’t. I like it out here.” Enraged, she gave one hard jerk and freed herself.
An iron band came over her shoulder, crossed diagonally over her breast, and yanked her against him with such force that she lost her breath. “Nico!”
“Just shut up,” he said, starting toward shore with her clamped tightly against him.
She fought him, kicking and hitting out, but her blows connected awkwardly.
Nico’s lungs burned as they tried to pump sufficient air through his body. When his feet touched the sandy bottom, he dragged her to the water’s edge, then collapsed, pulling her down with him to the sand.
“Are you
crazy?”
she demanded, flinging her wet hair behind her shoulder. She saw he was wearing only a pair of briefs. The white knit was plastered to his hard male form, and the ridge of his manhood pressed against the almost transparent briefs. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. He resembled a sculpted masterpiece. The water had laid an olive-toned patina of sleek satin over the corded muscles and sinews. A fire rushed through her, momentarily debilitating her. She wrenched her gaze away to see his discarded clothes lying several feet away, next to her towel and robe.
“You were so angry when you left that I came after you,” he said, his breathing slowly returning to normal. “Then I saw you swimming out to sea.” He took in the heightened color in her cheeks, then his gaze dropped to her breasts mounding perilously above the skimpy top. One good breath, and her nipples would break free, he thought, his stomach clenching, his loins heating.
“Out to
sea?
Lord, how can one man be so stupid? Look at you”—keeping her eyes above his waist, she gestured to the two brilliant red scars across his torso—“you’re just out of the hospital, probably not even healed properly yet. ”
“I'm fine."
“And you scared me half to death out there, coming up behind me like some sea monster, nearly drowning me. ”
“Me drown you? If you hadn’t fought me—”
She uttered an exasperated sound and pushed against the sand to get up. He grabbed her. Off balance, she fell against him. The contact sent shock waves through her.
“You’re not leaving yet,” he muttered.
“Oh, that’s really rich,” she cried, her eyes alight with an inner fever. Her skin felt uncomfortable, as If it were too tight, too hot, too full of nerves. “I just love the way you give orders. First you tell me to leave you alone. Now you tell me to stay. I’d say make up your mind, Nico, except I don't care anymore.” “Caitlin, listen to me. ”
“I’ve listened and listened, but you don’t say anything.”
“Then maybe we shouldn’t talk at all.”
He felt as if all control had been stripped away from him, leaving him a primitive man, raw with knife-sharp desire and blazing need.
Adrenalin pumped furiously through her veins. There was something untamed in the way he was looking at her, and at that moment, she’d never felt more alive. Or more frightened.
“Leave me alone, Nico.”
“Don’t you see, I’ve tried to do all the right things and ended up doing everything wrong.”
“I don’t see anything—"
“Then I’ll have to show you.” With a quick, smooth motion, he wiped the moisture from her brow, then tangled his fingers in her wet hair.
“Stop, Nico!"
“Sweetheart, if the world came to an end right this moment, I could not stop.”
A small cry escaped from her as a hot weakening coursed through her body, shattering all coherent thought.
He reached behind her, and within seconds, the top of her swimsuit fell to the sand. Then she was fighting to pull air into her chest because his gaze was on her breasts and his expression told her he was starving for her. Her nipples were already erect, and her breasts began to throb—for him.
Bending his head, he caught one tip in his mouth and sucked so hungrily and with such raw eroticism that when he pressed her back on the warm sand, she couldn’t even think of protesting.
Water quickly dried on their hot flesh. Her swimsuit bottom and his briefs came off. He kneed her thighs apart and came over her. She clutched at his shoulders. The savage expression in his eyes made her realize there would be no leisurely foreplay, nor did she want it. She was frantic for his possession.
He braced himself on his elbows and gazed down at her, the skin of his face drawn taut with powerful male lust.
“Caitlin,” he said, as though her name had been dredged up in an agony of wanting from his gut. Then he surged into her—so easily, so naturally, it was as if it were meant to be.
Filled completely with him, she held his gaze, unable to look away or close her eyes. This moment was too electric for less than all her senses. She wanted to see the changing expressions on his face as he moved in her. She wanted to hear his rough sounds as he felt her tighten around him. She wanted to feel the way his muscles bunched as the ecstacy grew. She wanted to know the taste of his mouth as he thrust into her time after time with a passionate violence.
He showed her no mercy, but he also showed her no control.
The sun, the wind, the surging ocean, and Nico— unyielding elements that couldn’t be fought, not now at any rate. No matter how she might wish it were different, she loved him.
He thrust again, and red-hot pleasure flooded through her. She cried out and arched up to him, taking him deeper into her.
The ocean sent its waves spilling to the shore, its lacy foam curling around their feet. He wrapped her legs around his waist, binding her to him in a wild primitive rhythm, and they crested together, hard and intense, their cries mingling and filling the deserted cove.
Time passed, waves rolled into the shore, a bird glided out to sea on a current of air. Finally, Nico rolled to her side but kept his arm around her.
Only then did she close her eyes and lay motionless, willing her body and mind back to normal. It took awhile, but her breathing evened and her senses steadied. Passion died; anger and hurt returned.
She could call herself stupid all day long, she told herself wearily, and it wouldn’t change the fact that they had made love. Besides it had been inevitable. But now their storm of desire had passed, and she had to deal with its aftermath.
With the warmth of his body against her, she was tempted to turn her head, bury her face against his chest, and spill her heart and soul to him. She resisted.
Nico might be holding her to him at this moment, but at any minute, he would push her away. It was his pattern. And if his rejection had hurt before, what kind of pain would she have now after experiencing his lovemaking that had left no part of her untouched?
She drew free of his arm, got to her feet, retrieved her swimsuit, and quickly slipped on both pieces.
“Caitlin?” He raised up on his elbow and frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t see what difference it makes,” she said, bending to scoop up her robe and shrug into it, “but if you must know. I’m going back to the house.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it was definitely not this cold. Indifferent attitude. “I don’t understand. ”
“Then let me explain. In spite of your attempts ever since you’ve been here not to get too intimate with me, we’ve just made love—if you’ll excuse the euphemism. I’m sure you’re embarrassed and sorry about the whole thing, but don’t be.” She picked up her towel and neatly folded it. “You were already planning to leave in the morning. To my way of thinking, you couldn't ask for a neater, less complicated ending than that.”
“Caitlin—”
“I’ve got to go now. I’m sure we’ll see each other again before you leave, perhaps at dinner.”
Nico sat up and braced his arms on his upraised knees. He stared out at the sea, not trusting himself to watch Caitlin as she climbed the steps to the top of the bluff. He wanted with everything that was in him to run after her, stop her, and bring her back. His body throbbed mercilessly to have her again. And his heart felt as if it were breaking apart.
To stop himself from going after her, he made himself think of Rettig and a long-buried secret— two things that could hurt her if he stayed.
Two six-branched silver candelabra sat at either end of the walnut kitchen table, their candles sending a white-gold pool of light over Caitlin, Nico, and Ramona. Six other candelabra stood on the sideboard behind them, their candles ready to be lit. Caitlin stared at her empty plate, trying to recall what she’d just eaten. She supposed it was possible that for once in her life, Ramona had slipped up and given her an empty plate for dinner. Possible, but not likely.
I am not going to lose it,
she thought fiercely. She put down her fork and reached for her water glass. All she had to do was concentrate on tomorrow when Nico would be gone. After he left, she’d be fine.
Peering over the edge of the crystal rim, she studied him from beneath her lashes. He’d been quiet during dinner, speaking only to answer Ramona or to compliment her cooking.
“I think I’ll drive down to Boston next week,” Ramona was saying. “There are a few things I should check on at home, and—”
“Home?” Nico interrupted unexpectedly.
“I live with Julia, Caitlin’s mother,” Ramona said. “She has a home in Boston, and, as a matter of fact, so does Caitlin.” She turned to Caitlin. “Ill run by your place too, honey.”
“There’s no need. The security firm’s watching it for me. ”
“I know, but it’s no bother, and I’ll feel better.” Caitlin smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And now that I’ve met you, Nico, I think I’m also going to do a little shopping at DiFrenza’s. I’ve been in there a time or two with Julia, but I’ve never—’’
“You mean Caitlin is going to be left all alone in this big house?” Nico asked, interrupting again, this time in a more strident tone.
Both women looked at him, startled. “I’ve stayed here by myself before,” Caitlin said. “When I was in college, I’d sometimes drive up to get away from everything so that I could concentrate on studying. ” “And there is Ben Stephenson, you know," Ramona said. “He’s always around. ”
“That’s not exactly reassuring,” Nico said grimly. Caitlin blinked, uncertain why Ben Stephenson would bother him. “Why not?”
“The man has been around forever. I ran into him on one of my walks around the estate, and we talked. He’s very nice, but the fact is, he’s an elderly man, overdue for retirement. I don’t know how he’s managed to look after this place all alone for as many years as he has.”
“He’s had help,” Caitlin said defensively. “We’ve always paid a special fee, so the county sheriffs department would keep an eye on things for us. On those occasions when vandals have threatened, we’ve hired off-duty sheriffs for security until the problem’s passed. The main thing Mr. Stephenson has done for us over the years is keep us alerted to trouble.”
“That’s all well and good, but how can he alert anyone to trouble when he’s out in his cottage and you’re up here alone?”
“I"ll be fine,” she said quietly.
Heartbroken and lonely,
she thought,
but fine.
“She really will be, Nico,” Ramona said. “Now
I’d
be afraid to stay here by myself. I’d never get a minute’s sleep. There are just too many empty rooms, strange shadows, and unexplained noises for my taste. But Caitlin is a child of SwanSea. She knows this house, and this house knows her.”
“It’s not the house that bothers me,” he said, staring broodingly at Caitlin.
“I wouldn’t leave her here alone if I wasn’t sure she’d be all right,” Ramona said in a tone that made it clear she felt she had brought the subject to an end. “Now, would you like some more wine?”
He shook his head and pushed back from the table. “I think I’ll explore the library for a while and see if I can find a book to read.”
“By candlelight?” Caitlin asked in surprise.
“Sure. Why not?” Anything to try to get his mind off her and his leaving her in the morning.
Ramona waved her hand toward the candelabra lined up on the sideboard. “Take a couple of those with you. ”
“One will be fine. ” He cast a glance at Caitlin. Her head bent, she was studying the crystal goblet in front of her. What was she thinking about, he wondered bleakly. Had he made her hate him?
He shifted slightly. A current of air waved outward from his body, and the candles flickered, sending ripples of white-gold light through the cinnamon strands of her hair. But Caitlin didn’t move.
“Good night,” he said.
Five
Caitlin’s shadow was her only companion as she paced the length of her candlelit bedroom. Sleep eluded her. Thoughts of Nico filled her mind. Initially, he had attracted and intrigued her. Then he had evoked sympathy, desire, and full-blown passion. And finally he had made her fall in love with him.
Remembering those times she’d had an uneasy feeling about him, she paused by a table crafted in an exquisite marquetry floral design set in front of drawn silk-embroidered drapes. The silver candelabrum she had placed there that resembled a six-bud rose tree held tall cream candles. She had been surrounded by beauty like this all her life and assumed that Nico, being a DiFrenza, had too.
He’d spoken of his great-grandmother, told her that he was a police detective and why, but there was still so much she didn’t know about him.
She knew what had happened between them from her point of view—she had fallen deeply In love with him, in love with the vulnerable and passionate man she’d sensed beneath the enigmatic surface.
But if he left in the morning without her trying to talk to him one more time, she would never have a chance to find out what had happened between them from his point of view. She stiffened with indignation. Maybe he would never return her love, and maybe she’d never see him again, but she’d be damned if she would go through her life wondering why he hadn’t been able to love her.
Intent on setting out to find him, she turned sharply and struck her hip against the side of the table, sending the candelabrum tumbling.
Nico stood outside Caitlin’s door, his hand raised to knock. It seemed as if he’d been frozen in that position for an eternity, his reason warring with his feelings. But peace of mind refused to come regarding what would happen if he knocked on the door and she refused to answer. Slowly, he lowered his hand.