Tidewater Lover (13 page)

"Good night." Lacey was smiling as she left the apartment.

Once outside in the pleasant coolness of the night air, her expression sobered. She wasn't ready to return to the beach house yet. In her car, Lacey drove aimlessly through the streets. Finally she ended up on the Virginia Beach side of the bay along the ocean front.

Disregarding the lateness of the hour, she parked her car and strolled along the silent beach. The time she had spent with her friend had been good, but Lacey still felt depressed. Finally the cool breeze drove her back to the car and she headed homeward.

All in all not the best evening I've ever spent, but thanks to Maryann, not the worst, Lacey thought as she drove the car into the garage. She had left her watch on the bedroom dresser and the clock on the car's dash didn't work. She had no idea what time it was. She knew it was late because it had been dark for hours.

Shivering at the coolness of the night air, she hurried through the connecting door from the garage to the house entrance. Wearily she began the tedious climb up the stairs.

Three steps from the top, the back of her neck prickled in warning and she glanced up to see Cole towering above her at the head of the stairs.

His white shirt was completely unbuttoned and pulled free of the waistband of his pants to hang loosely open. There was a forbidding darkness to his gaze, his rugged male features appearing to be permanently cast in bronze.

"Where the hell have you been?" he snarled.

"That's none of your business." Lacey attempted to brush past him, but his fingers clamped themselves vise-like over her wrist to stop her.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Cole demanded harshly.

"No, I don't, and I don't see that it matters," she retorted.

"It happens to be nearly four o'clock in the morning," he informed her. "I want to know where you've been."

Lacey strained against the steel-hard grip on her wrist. "I don't have to account to you for my whereabouts. Let me go, if you please," she ordered curtly. "I'm tired."

"I'll let you go," Cole promised, "as soon as you tell me where you've been."

"I told you it's none of your business where I've been," she repeated. She was tired and ill-equipped to engage in a slanging match with Cole Whitfield.

"I know you weren't with Bowman," he snapped.

Lacey paled visibly but challenged, "Wasn't I?"

"No, you weren't," There wasn't a trace of uncertainty in his ironclad statement. "Because I went to his place to find you. Bowman told me you'd said you were in no mood for anyone's company and had left."

Silently Lacey thanked Mike for inventing a face-saving answer instead of admitting that he had had a date with some other girl that night. But it still didn't get her out of her present situation.

"And I'm still not in the mood for anyone's company—least of all yours! Now let me go!" She tried twisting her arm to free if from his grip.

But Cole used the movement to curve her arm behind her back and haul her against his chest. "I don't care whether you're in the mood for company or not. You're going to answer my questions," he ordered angrily.

"I am not!" Lacey protested vehemently.

His other hand raked through her hair, his fingers gripping the short strands to force her head back so he could see her face.

"You've been drinking, haven't you?" he accused.

"I stopped at a friend's house and had a couple of glasses of wine," she answered truthfully. "Is that a crime?"

"Considering the way you drove when you left here, it borders on attempted suicide," Cole snapped. "I've called the police half a dozen times, certain you'd had an accident, especially after I discovered you weren't with Bowman."

"I didn't have an accident. I arrived safely." Tears were misting her eyes. "I seem to be more in danger of being hurt by you than in my car." And she meant that in more than one way. "Let go of my arm! You're going to break it if you keep twisting it like that."

"I hope it hurts." He forced her more fully against his rigid length. "After what you put me through tonight, you deserve to be punished."

"What I put you through?" Lacey choked in bitter laughter. "Why, you arrogant, bullheaded—"

Cole gave her no time to finish the insult. His mouth bruised her lips into silence as his arms ruthlessly molded her to his body with an economy of movement. Yet the cruel kiss meant to punish ignited a bewildering response in Lacey. She had meant to struggle, to fight his embrace, but her hands were sliding inside his shirt, seeking the fiery warmth of his naked skin. Her head was whirling, throbbing painfully, confused by her reaction.

When Cole lifted his head, she could not open her eyes to look at him, quivering with the response his kiss had evoked. She felt his mouth and chin rubbing against the hair near her forehead.

"For God's sake, Lacey, where were you all this time?" There was a funny throb in his voice, almost like pain, as his mouth moved against her hair while he spoke, roughly caressing. "I've been half out of my mind worrying that something had happened to you."

"Really?" she breathed, almost afraid to believe him.

"Yes, really." He smiled against her cheek and she felt the uneven thud of his heart beneath her hands. "Your friend, the one you had a drink with—" his arms tightened around her, demand creeping back into his voice "—was it a man or a woman?"

"It was Maryann, my girl friend," Lacey admitted, tipping her head to the side as he began nuzzling her ear.

"And I suppose you've been gossiping with her all night while I've been pacing the floor,
"
Cole grumbled with mock anger.

"Not all the time." His hands were roaming over her bare shoulders and Lacey was shamelessly enjoying the sensations they were creating. "I left there some time past eleven."

He lifted his head, frowning, his gaze narrowing. "Where have you been since then?"

"I…I went for a walk on the beach."

"Alone?" Cole accused.

"Yes," she nodded, knowing it had been foolish.

"You deserve to be whipped within an inch of your life!" he stated gruffly. "You were actually walking on the beach for more than three hours?" He repeated her statement as if he still couldn't believe she had said it.

"I guess so, if that's how late it is." She couldn't bring herself to worry about the risk she had taken at this late date.

"Oh, Lacey…" He sighed heavily in exasperation and crushed her tightly in his arms. "I knew I shouldn't have let you walk out of that door with Bowman."

"You couldn't have stopped me," she laughed softly. "I was so mad when I left that a brick wall couldn't have stopped me. And that's all your fault."

"My fault?" Cole tucked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up and gazing at it quizzically.

"You started the whole thing," she reminded him. "If you hadn't been so rude to Mike, I would never have lost my temper."

"What was I supposed to think?" An eyebrow twisted arrogantly at her answer. "I call his office and his secretary tells me he's out on a project. But when I get here, I find him carrying you around in his arms."

"You could have given him the benefit of the doubt," she pointed out, feeling the old resentment building again, "instead of jumping to conclusions that were completely wrong and unfair."

"How can you be so sure that my conclusion wasn't right?" Cole argued complacently.

"Because Mike isn't like that." Stiffening her arms against his chest, Lacey arched away from him. "He's honest and intelligent and works as hard as you do. Yours isn't the only project he's in charge of, and the delays on yours have been caused by suppliers and labor unions, things he has no control over."

Cole's mouth thinned grimly. "There you go again, defending him!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do when he isn't around to defend himself?"
'
She twisted completely out of his arms.

When she would have walked away, he caught her wrist, holding it firmly. "Lacey, I don't want to argue with you." His voice was husky, its demand low.

"No?" Looking into his dark blue eyes, Lacey knew that wasn't what he really wanted. "No, you want to make love, don't you?"

His gaze searched her face with unnerving thoroughness. "Don't you?" It was less a question than a request.

Lacey's pulse hammered in instant reaction, a heady intoxication filling her senses. She felt the pliant weakening of her flesh, but her mind refused to let its rule be overthrown by physical attraction.

"No." Her answer was faintly breathless, then firmer as she repeated it. "No, I don't."

"Liar," he accused, one corner of his mouth curving into an oddly bewitching smile.

Its charm was potent and Lacey had to breathe in deeply to keep it from weaving a spell around her. It took all of her willpower to remain impassive to his subtle and powerful appeal.

"You've accused me of that more than once, Cole," she said tightly. "And you're as wrong this time as you were all of the others."

With a quick tug, she pulled her wrist free of his hold and turned away. She could feel his gaze on her, compelling her back. She had to force herself to walk calmly and unhurriedly from him and not give in to the impulse to bolt to the safety of her room.

As she closed the bedroom door behind her, reaction set in, trembling through her with a violence that had her shaking. She was dangerously attracted to him. She recognized the symptoms, the combustible mixing of their two chemistries.

Cole was aware of it, too. He probably found her an attractive and highly available woman. His desire was part of the inherent danger of sharing the same house. Lacey knew she could never accept him as a temporary lover. It was neither wise nor sane.

A tear slipped from her lashes, its moistness surprising her as it trailed down her cheek. She flicked it away with her finger and began undressing for bed with jerky, harried, movements.

One tear followed another. By the time she had her pajamas on and was crawling into bed, her cheeks were damp from the confusing sadness that made her heart ache.

As she was about to switch off the bedside light, her door was pushed open. Paralyzed, her fingers remained on the switch, unable to move. Cole stood in the doorway, his masculine bulk filling the frame. The roughly planed features of his face were set in implacable lines, cast half in shadow by the uneven light streaming over him. The rich umber shade of his hair gleamed nearly black. His eyes seemed afire with purpose and smoldering desire.

A wave of intense longing washed through Lacey and she rushed to deny it.

"Cole, I'm going to bed," she declared shakily.

"Yes," he agreed with a snap. His long strides carried him into the room, all the way to her bed. "But in my bed—where you belong!"

As he reached for her, Lacey made a strangled attempt to protest before realizing that words wouldn't stop him. She grabbed for the spare pillow on the double bed and threw it at him, hoping for a few seconds to escape his hands. But he knocked it aside with a swing of his arm and succeeded in grasping her waist before she could slide out the other side of the bed.

Effortlessly he slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Her bare feet flailed the air, finding no target. Her doubled fists, however, had a ready target and she pummeled at his broad shoulders and back, screaming abusively at his caveman tactics.

"Scream a little louder," Cole taunted insensitively. "No one can hear you, and you haven't broken my eardrums yet."

"You put me down!" Lacey choked.

The door to his bedroom was ajar and he kicked it the rest of the way open to carry her in and dump her unceremoniously on his bed. Her startled cry was muffled by the pillow onto which she fell. Stunned, it took her a second to react.

Rolling onto her side, she saw Cole shrugging out of his shirt. Along with it he seemed to be shedding the thin veneer of civilization that separated man from beast. Her stomach constricted at the sight of the naked expanse of chest, powerfully muscled yet sinuously lean.

As he reached to unbuckle his belt, she recovered from that momentary pang of desire and started to finish her roll off the bed. His hand snaked out to grip her shoulder and force her back.

The mattress sagged as it took his weight. Her struggles were to no avail as his superior strength pinned her shoulders to the bed. Half lying across her as he was, the crushing weight of his chest flattened her breasts. The body heat of his flesh burned through the thin silky material of her pajamas.

Her hands strained against the rippling muscles of his upper arms, futilely trying to push him away. By turning her head far to the side, she managed to elude his searching mouth, but that didn't stop it from exploring the area of her cheek and neck she had exposed. Despite her panicked attempts to get free, a response to his rough caresses shivered through her.

"Cole, what about the ground rules?" she gasped in alarm, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs.

"To hell with the ground rules," was his terse reply.

The warmth of his breath seemed to set fire to her skin, the flames quickly spreading, her flesh a ready tinderbox to be sparked by his touch. She didn't know how to douse the fire he was starting.