Read Trouble In Triplicate Online
Authors: Barbara Boswell
"It's true," Juliet said drowsily as she lay wrapped in Caine's arms. "What you said. It was absolutely true." She was tucked into the curve of his big, hard body and she wriggled against him, feeling as high and light as a helium-filled balloon drifting up into the sky.
"What did I say that's true? That I wouldn't hurt you?" His arms tightened around her and his voice lowered and deepened with concern. "I didn't hurt you, did I, love?"
She stretched luxuriously against him. "Mmm, you know you didn't."
"You cried out when I first entered you," he reminded her. His mouth curved into a tender smile, and he cupped her chin with one hand and forced her to meet his gaze. "But you managed to adjust to me quite well," he drawled teasingly.
"Quite well." She sighed at the memory. "It was wonderful, Caine. You were wonderful."
"You were wonderful, Juliet," he said softly, and took her mouth in a lingering kiss. "But you still haven't told me what you meant when you said 'it's true.' "
"Remember when you told me that you could make my head spin in bed?" she murmured when he lifted his lips from hers.
He smiled. "I remember."
"Well, it's true." She grinned. "You can. And you did."
"There was another part to that statement that I didn't bother to add. You take my breath away, darling. In or out of bed. I think you always will."
"You think?" she teased, smiling up at him with loving eyes.
Caine gazed down at her and was filled with a surge of masculine pride and possession. She was his, only his. He was the first and only man to see her and touch her like this, the first and only man to be her lover.
He was more than a little surprised to feel this primitive and profound sense of possession. He was not by nature a possessive man. But he had never been any woman's first lover before. Except Juliet's.
"I know you will always take my breath away," he said with sudden conviction. He stared into the violet-blue depths of her eyes, remembering the way she'd gazed up at him as he'd first entered her, as he'd begun to move inside her.
And as he continued to gaze at her hundreds more images of her danced before his mind's eye. Juliet laughing and frowning, Juliet teasing him, arguing with him, making love with him. He saw her sleeping in his arms as she'd done last night, he saw her fussing over her sisters with loving concern. He saw her living in his house, sharing his life, bearing his children. . . .
I love her. There was simply no way around it,
Caine acknowledged with a wry smile. He'd been skirting the issue by making analogies with Napoleon and Waterloo. Now he was ready to admit it.
"Juliet?" he whispered.
Her eyes were closing heavily. "Hram?" she mumbled sleepily.
"Going to sack out on me, huh?" he teased.
She forced her eyes open and gave him an owllike stare. "I'm awake," she insisted.
"But just barely." He smiled to himself. His masculine ego demanded that the woman he loved be awake and alert when he made his declaration of love. "Go to sleep, honey," he said softly, cuddling her close and savoring the sweet, musky scent of her.
There was plenty of time to tell her how he felt,
he thought. Perhaps he would combine it with a proposal. It wasn't too soon. He'd been waiting for her all his life. He drifted off to sleep as he planned the romantic setting in which he would tell Juliet of his love and ask her to be his wife.
❧
In the first groggy seconds between sleep and wakefulness Juliet wondered hazily where she was. Comprehension dawned the moment she opened her eyes and found herself wrapped around Caine. Her face was buried in the curve of his shoulder, one arm was flung across his chest, and her legs were entwined intimately with his powerful, hair-roughened thighs.
He was still sleeping soundly, and she studied him lovingly. She blushed as recollections of their passionate union swept over her. How masterfully he had taken her! And she had given herself to him with a possessive urgency she'd never dreamed she was capable of. Together they had soared into a realm of intense ecstasy, and she thrilled at the memory of their tempestuous passion.
She loved Caine Saxon
. Their union had transcended mere physical pleasure, becoming a merging of spirit and soul. She was awed by this compelling loss of autonomy, but not at all threatened. She had never before felt like the whole, complete woman that she knew she now was.
She stretched a little, feeling wonderfully sore in certain places. Her movements roused Caine and he stirred. "Good morning, love." She savored the words as she spoke them. It was wonderful to wake in her lover's arms. She leaned up and tenderly touched her lips to his.
"Hello, sweetheart," he said huskily, and rolled her over on her back as his mouth took over the kiss and deepened it intimately.
She was immediately, deliciously aroused, and moved beneath him with the erotic, sensual rhythm she had learned so well last night. She felt his throbbing masculine response and her body sang with joy. He wanted her. He was her lover and she could make him want her as much as she wanted him.
The sudden sharp ring of the telephone was a jarring intrusion into their private world. Juliet stiffened. "Ignore it, honey," Caine mumbled, brushing her lips with his.
But the ringing didn't stop, and Juliet couldn't ignore it. "What if it's Liwy or Randi?" she said. Her sisters would assume she was here with Caine when they didn't find her in her own bedroom. She sat up and picked up the dark green telephone receiver.
It hadn't occurred to Juliet that perhaps someone might be calling for Caine. An incredibly stupid mistake, considering it was his phone in his house, she berated herself when she heard the unmistakably feminine voice on the other end of the line.
"May I speak to Caine, please?" the voice asked with cool aplomb.
"It's for you." She thrust the phone at him, rolled onto her stomach, and tried not to listen to Caine's conversation. She didn't want to hear him talk to another woman. But though she couldn't hear what the woman was saying, there was no way she could block out Caine's end of the conversation.
"Oh. hi. Yeah. No, I can't. Sorry. No, I don't think so. No. Maybe you'd better. Yeah. Bye."
Juliet heard him replace the receiver in its cradle. "She asked to see you, didn't she?" Her voice was slightly muffled by the pillow.
"You heard me refuse, Juliet,"' Caine replied quietly.
She'd been hoping that he would say the female voice belonged to a salesperson hawking magazines or aluminum siding or something. To have to face that another woman was issuing an invitation to her lover—as they lay in bed!—was an extremely difficult adjustment, even if he had turned the woman down.
Juliet swallowed. For the first time she fully understood why Miranda had instantly believed that Grant had gone off to Richmond with another woman. Grant had been a rich, sought-after bachelor, just like Caine. Women called the Saxon brothers. Women wanted them. . . .
"I didn't ask her to call and I said no to her," Caine said as he stroked her nape with firm, kneading fingers.
"I know. Three times! I heard you." Juliet sat up and tried to smile. "It's just that it's so hard ..." Her voice trailed off. She would not turn into a suspicious, jealous shrew, she told herself firmly. If she couldn't trust Caine, their relationship would never last.
"Trust me, Juliet," he said softly, as though reading her thoughts. "You're the only woman in my life." He cupped her cheek with his palm and she turned her lips into his hand, kissing his fingers lightly. "I don't want anyone but you."
For now. The unwelcome thought flitted through her head, and Juliet quickly sought to banish it. She wouldn't let her apprehensions and insecurities poison her time alone with Caine. She managed a brave little smile that went straight to Caine's heart.
There would be no whining or crying or jealous tantrum, he thought. Her determined smile confirmed it. He knew that she had deliberately put aside the hurt, the doubts, and the jealousy. He was filled with admiration for her, with love. He wanted her to believe in him, the way he believed in her.
"Spend the day with me, Juliet." It was more of a command than a request. "Tonight too. Grant can fill in at the restaurant."
"I'd like to," she said.
"Are you hungry?" He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He wanted to make love to her again, but the untimely phone call had effectively shattered the mood. There would be time for more lovemaking later, he consoled himself. Right now it was imperative to erase the faint traces of sadness from her beautiful blue eyes.
"A little." She stared up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of his nude body. It was rugged and muscular, without an ounce of fat, his broad chest covered with a mat of wiry dark hair. She looked at his long, powerful legs, his strong arms and big hands, and felt a shiver of desire ripple through her. He was so beautiful, she thought dizzily. His body was a natural work of art that put all those marble statues in museums to shame.
He caught her staring and grinned. "Like what you see?"
She blushed. "You weren't supposed to see me looking."
He stroked her flushed cheek with his fingers. "I want you to look at me, Juliet." He suddenly lifted her from the bed and set her on her feet. "And I want you to like what you see," he added irrepressibly.
Taking her by the hand, he pulled her toward the bathroom. "You may only be a little hungry, but I'm starving, woman. Let's take a quick shower and go out to lunch."
"Lunch?"
"It's past noon."
"Past noon?" She gasped. "Why, I've never slept this late in my life!"
"You never spent a night like last night, either," he drawled. "And now you're about to take your first shower with a man." He drew her against him and ran his hands over her soft body. "You're doing a lot of things you've never done before, Juliet." His mouth took hers in a long, lingering kiss. "And I'm glad you're doing them with me. Only me."
Under the driving stream of water in the shower stall they soaped each other with incredible thoroughness, not missing a single curve or crevice or an inch of skin. Laughing, Juliet wrapped her arms around Caine's neck and pressed her soap-slicked body into his. His arms came around to hold her firmly against him.
"You're as slippery as a greased pig," he said, sliding his hands over her.
"A greased pig!" she howled, drawing back to glare at him.
"Sorry, that was the first thing that came to mind."
"Your imagery leaves a lot to be desired, Saxon. I thought all you wolf-playboys had a whole repertoire of stock romantic phrases that covered all occasions."
"Oh, we do. And when I'm being a wolf-playboy I use them." He grew suddenly serious as he gazed down at her. "But I'm not playing any kind of role with you, Juliet. When we're together I'm strictly being myself." He ran his fingers through her short, wet hair. "You're special, Juliet."
She hugged him tight. "That's the nicest thing you could ever say to me." It was, too, for when had she alone ever been special to anyone? She and Miranda and Olivia were special together as a set of triplets, but without her identical siblings, Juliet considered herself something of a nonentity.
Had Grant and Bobby Lee made Randi and Liwy feel unique and special and utterly original?
she wondered. The way Caine made her feel? Not even their parents had been able to accomplish that, although the sisters didn't blame them for it. Having their first child born when they were both in their mid-forties—and turn out to be triplets!— had been a stunning shock to both Professors Post. They'd raised the girls as a single unit, but with an abundance of love.
"You look so lost in thought," Caine said softly. "What are you thinking, love?"
Juliet wanted to tell him that she loved him. but the words that had come so easily in the intimacy of the bedroom were somehow difficult to say in this tender, special moment. She didn't want Caine to feel that she was pressuring him to return the words, that she was taking advantage of the gentle mood between them to wring a declaration of love for him.
"I'm thinking that you're very special, too, Caine Saxon." It was as close as she dared to come to telling him how very much he meant to her. "And that I'm glad I'm here with you."
It was a revelation to discover that he had a streak of old-fashioned romantic traditionalism ingrained in him, Caine thought wryiy, as he held
Juliet's warm, wet body close. He could tell her he loved her and propose right now—the atmosphere of tender intimacy was certainly right—but he envisioned the moment complete with candlelight and soft music and champagne. When he and Juliet told their children how Daddy had proposed to Mommy he didn't want to have to say it was in the shower!
The notion of their children, their life together, exhilarated him. "I'm glad you're here with me, too, little one," he said. His amber eyes alight, he lifted her off her feet and held her above him for a moment before letting her slide slowly down the length of his body. "There's no one else I'd rather shower with."
"No one else? Not even the Pittsburgh Steelers?" Her bright blue eyes teased him. "I thought you jocks had such a great time together in the locker room, snapping each other with towels, making anatomical comparisons, and the like."
Caine directed the shower nozzle over them, and the warm water sluiced their bodies, washing the soap suds away. "I'd rather make anatomical comparisons with you, Juliet."
He pulled her into his arms and they kissed and kissed, and Caine was on the verge of chucking romantic tradition and proposing right there in the shower stall—they could make up some suitable tale for the kids—when Juliet broke away from him with a grin.
"Poor Caine. You are starving, aren't you?"
He stared at her, dazed.
"Your stomach's growling." She reached up and turned off the taps. "We'd better get you some food before you collapse from hunger."
He groaned. There was something dismally unromantic about a growling stomach. He certainly didn't want his one and only marriage proposal linked with it. He would have to revert to his original plan, back to the soft lights and music and the diamond ring floating in a glass of iced champagne. ...