Authors: Stella Cameron
Sebastian's chin rested on his shoulder. He wore his jeans— unsnapped at the waist—but no shirt or shoes.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and settled more comfortably to watch him.
The ring in its plastic pouch had been replaced in his wallet. Even while fresh tears of emotion prickled her eyes, she felt again the deep embarrassment of the previous night. He'd always carried the ring—to remind him of her. Or so he said. And she'd looked at the outline of that very small ring and thought... She set her lips in a straight line. So she wasn't a woman of vast sexual experience. So what? It had been a simple mistake.
"Oh, yeah. A very simple little mistake," Sebastian had said, while he settled himself in the chair. "Something tells me there s
an educational gap here. We need to do some talking just so I know what I'm up against."
And he'd insisted she go to bed while he slept in the chair, "Because I'll feel better if I know you 're safe. If I went home, Id only be calling you all night to make sure."
But he'd resisted sharing the bed. "That really wouldn't be a good idea. Don't worry about it, love. We 11 get around to making sure you're ready for me." Surely not the words of a man capable of rape? Yet she'd accused him of raping Crystal and he'd retaliated with anger rather than a denial.
Last night he'd absolutely refused to enter into any further discussion about making love with her. And he'd gone to sleep in minutes—seconds. And she'd been awake for hours. As soon as he woke up they'd be discussing a lot of things. She knew what she wanted now and she knew he wanted it too. Sex didn't have to mean anything but that—sex. They were both grown-ups. Why shouldn't they enjoy each other with no strings attached?
Because he probably didn't want to, that's why. Either he was keeping tabs on her to make sure she didn't interfere with his business, or . . . Could he really have been longing for her all these years?
Bliss studied the way his thick, dark lashes shifted a little. His lean face carried its dramatic lines into sleep. The slightest parting of his wide, clearcut mouth showed a hint of white teeth. A day and a night's growth of very dark beard accentuated his sharply defined jaw and the vertical lines beneath his cheekbones. She hadn't asked him about that scar on his mouth.
He stirred and laced his hands on top of his flat belly. The hair on his chest—and elsewhere—was black, too.
Bliss registered the sound of a car engine in the lane leading to the gate. Vic Taylor, the artist who'd been a Hole Point resident since Bliss opened the colony, often spent nights away and returned early in the morning.
Vic and his potter model, Liberty Lovejoy, were Polly's least favorite tenants but, as Bliss often pointed out, they paid their rent most of the time.
Sebastian had to be uncomfortable, or he would be when he woke up. Bliss climbed from the bed and pulled on her blue terry-cloth robe. Moving quickly and quietly, she gathered the clothing she'd discarded the night before and stowed it out of sight.
"Sebastian?" She bent over him. "Sebastian, I want you to go to bed properly for a few hours."
He smiled in his sleep and rolled his face away.
She walked to the other side of the chair. "Sebastian." Gently, she stroked his cheek. "Come on. Let me get you into bed."
"Sounds good," he said, so clearly she jumped. He trapped her hand against his face. "Mmm. Just a minute."
Bliss kissed his lips.
Sebastian's arm snaked around her shoulders and he almost jerked her off her feet. "Stop it!" she said. Giggling, she scrambled to retain her balance. "I want you to stretch out on my bed. If you don't, your back won't be worth anything."
"You come with me," he mumbled, his eyes barely opening as she applied a foot to the chair and brought him sharply to a sitting position. "C'mon, love. We gotta do that again."
"I don't think we did it in the first place," Bliss muttered.
"Mmm." With an arm draped around her shoulders, he got to his feet and crossed meekly to fall onto the bed—and drag her down on top of him. "Mmm." He slipped a hand inside the robe to fondle her breasts.
Instant thrill became instant arousal. "I thought we had to talk," she said into his ear.
With his palm, he made circles on a nipple. His eyes were tightly shut again, but his grin grew wider. He deserted her breasts long enough to ease one of her hands down inside his jeans.
Hard and heavy and hot. Bliss dug deeper and filled her fingers. He was already performing a sleepy inventory of her breasts again, then dipping down between her legs and drawing all those tiny, electric muscles to tingling alert.
"Take your clothes off," he said.
Bliss ignored him and set about kissing any of the many spots of bare skin she could find. He was the only true addiction she'd ever known.
"Time for our chat." Sebastian sounded wide awake now.
Lifting her head, she looked down into his narrowed green eyes and felt her stomach drop away, and other places inside her grow tight with tension.
In the distance she heard a rapping on the front door.
"Who's that?" Sebastian said, lifting her to sit on his belly with a knee either side of him. "Does that feel good?" He pushed a hand between his naked belly and her naked bottom.
Bliss bit her lip and gasped.
He nodded. "I'll take that as a yes. Why, oh why did it have to take so long for me to get back to you?"
The knocking downstairs became louder and more insistent.
"Go away!" Sebastian shouted.
She pressed a hand over his mouth. "Hush. It's probably Vic come to talk about the latest row. He'll go away."
"Vic, huh?" Her robe parted company with her shoulders and Sebastian contrived to rise up and kiss her breasts. "Beautiful," he muttered. "You're getting wet, love. Nope. You are wet. We'd better have that talk."
Nervousness flittered in her stomach.
Battering more closely described the assault on the front door now. "If I don't go down, he'll think something's going on in here."
"It is," Sebastian said. "Who's Vic?" He tipped her flat on top of him and kissed her deeply.
Being drunk must feel like this. Bliss fought free and leaped to the floor. "Don't!" she warned when he would have come after her. "You stay right there while I go down and deal with this."
"No way." He swung his feet to the rug beside the bed. "The only man who looks at you like that is me."
Bliss scooped up his ankles and hauled them back on top of the mattress. She didn't point out that all this possessiveness was
very newly found. "Stay put. I mean it. I've been managing my life for a long time." Very firmly, she pulled the robe back on and belted it. "Vic isn't interested in me as anything but a landlady and occasional confessor. I'll let you know when the coast's clear."
Without giving him a chance to argue, Bliss left the room and ran downstairs. "Coming," she called, opening the door and shielding her eyes from the rush of early morning light into the dim great room.
"Oh, look at you!" Kitten Winters marched into the lodge. "For goodness' sake, close the door before anyone sees you. You're an absolute fright."
Bliss bowed her head and took several deep breaths while she gently closed the front door. "Good morning, Mother. Nice of you to drop by." Please, please let her say whatever unpleasant things were on her mind and leave—quickly.
"I'm not dropping by. I never drop by unannounced."
"Really?"
Bliss trailed past her mother and continued on into the kitchen where she plugged in the coffee maker.
Kitten Winters wore a lightweight pink knit suit with a double row of buttons down the jacket that pronounced it a Chanel creation. Her quilted pink leather purse and shoes made the same statement. At—Bliss glanced at the blue and white Delft clock over the stove—at five-fifteen in the morning, Kitten's bleached hair curved from hairline to nape with not a hair out of place. Her pink velvet headband scarcely made a dent in the careful teasing job.
"You're looking yummy, Mother."
"Why is it that what would be a compliment from anyone else, sounds like an insult from you?"
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Please say no.
"I should think so. Because of you I hardly got a wink of sleep last night. You can thank me that it isn't your father who's here. He wouldn't be as calm and kind as I am."
Bliss got out two mugs and set them on the counter. "It cer-
tainly is early," she said. "Much too early for you to come here shouting and insulting me."
"Ooh, Bliss," Kitten said, folding into a chair like a rag doll and cupping her face in a tragic pose that made sure her perfect makeup suffered no damage. "How can you talk to me the way you do? After all I've done for you. You take, and take, and give nothing in return."
"Mother—"
"All that education. All the opportunities we've given you. And what have we asked in return? A little consideration, that's all. You know your father's planning to run for the presidency. These are very important times for him, dear. You and I have to be selfless. We've got to put his good before our own."
"You mean the good of the nation before our own, don't you?" Bliss asked mildly.
Kitten's hands became fists on her knees. "This nation will get a great man if it gets your father, a better man than any nation deserves."
"As you say."
"Sebastian Plato. That's why I'm here. There's no point in tiptoeing around. We're horrified at what's being suggested. My God, Bliss. Your father was at the Hunt Club last night and Walter DeFunk asked if you were still having an affair with that Plato fella. Can you imagine your father's embarrassment?"
Bliss barely stopped herself from dropping a glass mug. "Still having an affair?"
"Oh, I knew it." Kitten leaped up. "I just knew it. You did become involved with him at that horrible school you insisted upon attending."
Resisting the urge to throw the mug, Bliss set it down on the nearest counter. "You and Daddy chose the schools I went to for your own purposes."
"How can you?—"
"I can because it's true. You both decided it would look good to Daddy's constituents if his daughter went to public schools. It gave him a chance to be president of the booster club and
embarrass me with his big gifts and speeches. And you played lady of the manor with the PTA."
Kitten tapped a pump on the floor. "You are so ungrateful."
"Let's stop this now," Bliss said. "What I do with my life is absolutely none of your business. Do you still want coffee?"
Kitten flapped a hand. "I don't care anymore. The idea. A daughter of mine being sexually active in high school."
"I wasn't sexually active in high school. And I'm the only daughter you have—as far as I know."
The pink purse hit the table and slid. Bliss stopped it from falling off.
"You are the biggest disappointment of our lives."
"I know, Mother."
"You've wasted all that education you insisted on." She gestured vaguely. "This excuse for some sort of good work. Den mother to any so-called artist who can't earn a living. You're doing it to embarrass Morris and me. And now I find out you were involved with some dreadful boy behind our backs."
Bliss wasn't going to lie.
"Weren't you?" Kitten pushed.
"Sebastian Plato was my friend when we were in school. He was a very dear friend. I suppose you do know who he is now, don't you, Mother?"
"Certainly I know. He's a man involved in practices your dear father opposes. Bliss, your father's presidential platform will pivot on his fight against the corruption of our young people."
"Mother, this is all completely uncalled for. You have no idea what you're talking about and neither, apparently, does Daddy."
"How dare you question your father!"
As usual, there could never be any hope of a sane discussion with Kitten Winters if her husband's views were an issue. "I'm sorry," Bliss said. "Forgive me if I've done anything to disturb either you or Daddy. You have nothing to fear from me. Please tell him that."
"Give me that coffee." From the choke in Mother's voice, tears were imminent. "Why do you always have to hurt us?"
Bliss poured coffee and set it on the table. "1 would never intentionally hurt you."
"But you sought out this boy, this person who was of an entirely different . . . Well, his background isn't the same as ours."
"Mother—"
"Do you deny you're having an affair with him now?"
"Yes!" She felt her color rise and turned away to pour coffee for herself. She hadn't lied. They weren't having an affair—yet. "Would you like cream?"
"You know I don't take cream. And neither should you. Even if you don't worry about your arteries, you should certainly keep an eye on those hips."
Bliss smiled into her mug.
"Did I say something humorous?"
"Not really. How is Daddy?"
Kitten sniffed. She retrieved her purse and produced a tissue. "Morris is a wonder. The things he's had to endure would break most men."
Anxiety sobered Bliss. "Daddy isn't well?"
Blowing her nose loudly, Kitten shook her head. "You don't understand, do you? His health is perfect. Another amazing thing considering the worry you bring upon him. This Plato man is all over the papers. If you—"
"Sebastian and I are not having an affair." Peace, at least for the moment, was all Bliss cared about.
"Well, then, that's a good thing. I do wish you'd stop all this silliness and let your father and me guide you, Bliss. Do you remember that delightful young Chester King?"
Some things would never change. "You mean the man Dede—I forget what her other name was—but she married him didn't she?"
"They're divorced," Kitten said, with more than a hint of satisfaction.
Bliss knew all about Chester King, and the reason his wife had divorced him.
"The man's worth a fortune. And his connections!" She pressed her hands together and glanced heavenward. "He knows everyone, Bliss. And he likes you."
"Liked. I haven't seen him in years." Heavy footsteps, clomping over the wooden floors in the great room, panicked Bliss.