Beneath the Covers (Kimani Romance) (7 page)

C
laudia hardly slept that night, wondering what Peter would have said if Frank hadn’t interrupted him. She could guess, and the power of her imagination kept her hot. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel the same attraction he did. He wanted an affair, and she’d give him one. She just had to plan it to make sure that she didn’t look overeager. The next day, they did a quick scene at the villa again then wrapped up the filming early, giving her a chance to explore. Claudia decided to go for a walk and deal with her warring feelings. She didn’t want to be attracted to Peter, but she couldn’t deny that she was.

She walked around the charming small town next to the villas, drinking in the sight of the lush tropical foliage. She stopped in one of the boutiques, looking for souvenirs. She thought of her friends Suzanne and Noreen and bought an eight-inch aquarium round plate, in cobalt blue, exquisitely made out of fused glass. She also bought a handblown glass piece depicting a conch shell with an image of the white-sand beaches and sea, and several items made out of bamboo for her niece Tess, godson Luke and Madame Curie.

Then she saw something she knew Peter would love—an acacia box. Acacia wood is prized for its beautiful grain and rich color and is usually hand-sculptured to create one-of-a-kind art pieces. She hesitated. She remembered he liked to collect boxes like this. He rarely talked about his family, but on one instance he did when she asked him about his collection.

“I like the order and symmetry. It’s simple and yet can hold so many things. That one I made in woodshop when I was fifteen,” he said, handing her a piece.

“It’s very good.”

He took it from her and replaced it. “It’s passable, but not like master woodworkers. An uncle gave me my first one when he traveled to Ghana. He said he thought I would appreciate it and find it useful.”

“Why?”

“Because it was a place where I could put my award ribbons, since my parents didn’t hang them up.”

“Why not?” she asked, surprised by that admission.

He shrugged then changed the subject.

Claudia studied the box now, thinking of that moment, then impulsively bought it. Perhaps she should tell him what really happened and why she hadn’t shown up in Vegas. Not that it would change anything, but so that the feelings between them wouldn’t be so strained. They should start their affair with the past buried behind them.

She returned to the villa with her bags of purchases and headed to her room. She had to tell him the truth.

She saw Peter’s silhouette out on the lanai. She took a deep breath then went toward him.

“Yes, I miss you, too,” he said in a gentle tone.

She stopped. He was talking on his cell phone. She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t.

“It’s going well.” He was silent then said, “I know.” He listened then nodded. “I wish you were here, too.” He sighed. “It’s not that simple.” He paused. “I’ll always love you. Now I’ve got to go. Uh-huh. Yes. Bye.”

Claudia didn’t move, feeling a searing pain as her hopes for an affair disappeared. She quickly brushed her feelings aside. He’d never been that casual with his emotions before. Perhaps he’d changed. By all appearances, whoever he was talking to was special to him and her traitorous heart was jealous. Who was the woman who had elicited such tender affection? What did she look like? Was she sophisticated and refined? What did she do? How long had they been together?

Claudia hated the questions but couldn’t stop them from coming. It helped everything make sense. She had been surprised when he’d returned to the villa alone that night after the club. She’d assumed it was because they had a full workday ahead. Now she knew he was in a serious relationship. He’d kissed her out of spite because he could and he knew what it would do to her. But his heart belonged to someone else.

“Did you want me?”

It took Claudia a moment to realize he had disconnected and was talking to her. “Uh…no.”

He put his cell phone away. “I guess a better question is
do
you want me?”

She swallowed. “No.”

Peter took a slow step toward her, his tone deepening into huskiness. “Don’t be coy, Claudia. I know you do.”

“Who was that on the phone?”

He hesitated then moved closer. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

He sighed then shook his head. “It’s not what you think and has nothing to do with us.”

“Us?”

His finger traced a stirring path down her neck. “Don’t fight what you feel.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her close. “Admit that you want me.”

Claudia licked her lips, but her gaze never wavered. “You want me more.”

His gaze dropped to her lips then returned to her face. “Maybe. What should we do about it?”

“Take a cold shower?”

“Together?”

She smiled. “No.”

“You have another suggestion?”

“We can see where it leads.”

“I like that idea.” He bent to kiss her but stopped when his cell phone rang. He swore. When he saw the number, he swore again.

Claudia stepped back with a wry grin. “I guess that’s our cold shower.”

Peter held up his hand. “No, just give me a minute.”

Claudia turned, knowing the mood was gone. “Good night,” she said then left.

Peter swore again as he watched Claudia go, then answered. “Hello?”

“I saw that postcard you sent Thomas,” his father, Lloyd Warren, said.

Peter groaned and walked back inside. “Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s later here than there. What have I told you about getting his hopes up?”

Peter went into the kitchen and opened the fridge then closed it. “He wanted to see a picture, Dad. That’s all.”

“He said you’d take him there one day.”

“Yes, maybe one day.”

“It wouldn’t be safe. He doesn’t travel well. Why don’t you find another hobby? You can do better than this.”

Peter tapped his fist against his forehead. “Dad, let’s not do this.”

“You come from a long line of success. Professors, mathematicians, surgeons, and you’ve made a career out of a running gag.”

Peter hung his head, knowing he couldn’t stop the often-repeated lecture. He sat at the dining table and waited.

Lloyd Warren didn’t disappoint him. “
Your Bed or Mine?: Tips from the Ultimate Bachelor.
What kind of title is that? When are you going to grow up and get a real job? Do something useful with that degree of yours. You certainly worked hard enough for it, but you haven’t put it to good use.”

“Let’s forget about me for a moment. I’m worried about Thomas.”

“He’s fine.”

“He wants more independence. Let him get a job or volunteer.”

“How do you know he’s unhappy?” Mr. Warren demanded.

“I spoke to him.”

“He’s doing okay. He probably was just in a bad mood.”

“I can afford—”

“I can afford a lot of things too, so don’t start throwing your money in my face.”

“I was only trying to—”

“I don’t care what you can afford. I’ve always taken care of him and I always will.”

“He’s not a kid anymore, and I think letting him move into the group home will build his confidence.”

“You know what can happen in those places.”

Peter kept his voice even. “I’ve been studying—”

“That’s a surprise, when you barely managed to complete your degree. Do you have one of your women read the books to you?”

Peter ignored the barb. “As I said, I’ve been studying and researching the field and learned—”

His father laughed with derision. “Your field is pseudoscience, sound bites and hot women. I deal in the real world. Your next stop is Bermuda, right?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Send
us
a postcard.” He hung up.

Peter gently set the phone down then pounded the table several times with his fist. He pounded out his rage, his frustration and his feeling of helplessness. He pounded the table until his hand ached, then he sat back and took a deep breath. His hand shook as the pain registered, but he didn’t move.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Claudia said in a quiet voice behind him. “But can I at least check to see if you’ve broken your hand?”

He sent her a look.

She sat down, unfazed. “You’ve done it before.”

He looked away, in no mood to argue. Soon he felt her long, smooth fingers gently touch his hand. He knew his hand wasn’t broken, but he didn’t mind her exploratory touch. With each gesture he felt his anger melting away. Soon his frustration followed, then his tension. He looked at her with wonder as she kneaded his entire hand.

This was what he’d missed most—her understanding. She read people well and understood him. It was why they had been so good together. She read his moods and left him alone when he needed to be. She wasn’t like other women who would ask him what was wrong or try to force him to talk and open up.

He felt her begin to draw away, but he clasped her hand before she could leave. His grip wasn’t strong, just enough to restrain her. He didn’t look at her. He wanted her to stay, but he didn’t want to talk. She understood the silent request and squeezed his hand. Once he knew she wouldn’t go, he leaned back in his chair and stared out the window, trying to gain control of his conflicting thoughts.

She’d been there for him another time when he’d argued with his father and ended up in the hospital after smashing his hand through a wall. He hadn’t told her what the call was about then, either. He’d wanted to keep her away from the ugliness of his family. He felt the same way now. Peter looked over at Claudia to see if she was as lost in thought as he was. She was asleep with her head resting on her folded arms.

He brushed her hair away from her cheek. “Claudia?”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “Guess what?”

He couldn’t help smiling back. “What?”

“Your hand isn’t broken.”

His smile grew. “I never would have guessed.”

Her expression grew serious. “How many bones did you break last time?”

“Three.”

“Only three?”

He nodded.

She lifted his hand. “I bet it was this one.” She kissed his index finger. “This one.” She kissed his ring finger. “And this one.” She kissed his thumb.

“I also broke my wrist.”

She placed her lips on his inner wrist.

“And I once shattered my shoulder.”

She raised an eyebrow then placed a kiss there.

“It was my right shoulder.”

“Oh.” She kissed his other shoulder.

“And my nose.”

She shook her head. “You never broke your nose. Your face is too symmetrical.”

“Some people wanted to.”

“But they didn’t.”

“I have a scar on my thigh.”

Claudia raised both eyebrows in feigned innocence. “Inner or outer?”

“Inner. On my right leg.”

She lowered herself to the ground then pushed up one leg of his shorts. “I can hardly see anything.”

“It’s really faint.”

She stifled a grin then kissed him there. “Is it this?”

“It’s a little higher.”

She kissed him again.

“A bit more.”

And again.

“Higher.”

She looked up at him with amusement. “If I go any higher, I won’t be kissing your thigh.”

“And you wouldn’t hear me complaining.”

She rested her hand on his front. “Funny, it doesn’t feel broken. Have you been having trouble with it?”

It was a bold move, and for a moment he didn’t speak. Then he said, “Yes.”

Claudia glanced up, surprised. “Really?”

Peter pulled her into his arms. “Yes, it keeps leading me to you.” His mouth covered hers in a wild, hungry assault.

When they pulled away for breath, she whispered, “Bedroom?”

“It’s too far.”

“It’s only a few feet away.”

“Right, but I want you now.” He lifted her onto the dining table.

“This brings back memories.”

He unzipped his shorts and put on protection, which he’d had in his back pocket. “Let’s make some new ones.”

They made enough memories to last the rest of their lives. Clothes lay discarded around them and Claudia welcomed his hard body against hers, her skin tingling at the touch of his hot flesh. They were passionate and reckless, not caring if they got caught—the possibility only heightening the thrill. The movements were hot, quick and primal.

“You’re going to leave scars,” Peter said as her nails dragged down his back. They’d left the dining table and continued on the bare floor.

“Something to remember me by,” Claudia said, wrapping her legs around him, inviting him deeper inside her. Both experienced a pure and explosive pleasure that left them weak when it was over.

Peter rolled away then stared up at the ceiling. “Amazing.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed. “You’re going to take all the credit?”

Claudia turned on her side and rested her hand on his chest. “I suppose I could give you some.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it with mock humility. “Thank you.”

Claudia sat up. “I bought you something.”

He stilled.

“Don’t worry,” she said in a light tone. “I know tonight doesn’t mean anything. I just thought you would like it. I—”

Peter kissed her to keep her from talking. He couldn’t let this night mean more than playful recreation. “What you just gave me was good enough.”

“Aren’t you even curious?”

“No.” When she began to smile with knowing, he sighed, resigned. “What did you get me?”

She adjusted her clothing and left the room then returned and handed him a medium-size shopping bag. He reached inside and pulled out an extraordinary piece of artwork. It was a small box, made out of acacia wood. He knew just where to put it—next to a similar box he’d gotten in Brazil after his parents’ divorce.

Damn. He was touched. He didn’t want to be, but he was. He ran his hand over the decorated inlay. She knew him too well.

Claudia folded her arms. “You don’t like it?”

He opened the box then closed it. “Why do you say that?”

She rubbed the muscle at his jawline with her thumb. “This tells me when something’s upset you.”