Heat Wave (3 page)

The older woman smiled warmly as Cole introduced Marilee, her eyes growing round when she learned Marilee had arrived in a balloon.

“Miss O’Neil will stay for dinner with us, Jada.”

“Fine. We’re happy to have you, Marilee.”

“Thank you,” Marilee said politely.

“I’m going to find her some dry clothes, then show her around.” Cole took Marilee’s arm and led her through a long hall.

“What does she think of your nudity?” Marilee whispered.

He laughed. “Who, Jada? I’m not nude. I have a towel securely around my middle. Besides, she put diapers on me. I’m Jada’s baby.”

There was something defensive in his tone. She didn’t want to probe further so she walked quietly beside him. The bare wooden floors gleamed with polish and were delightfully cool under her bare feet. Glancing at the living room and dining room, she saw both had immense fireplaces, heavy dark masculine-style furniture. They climbed a flight of stairs and turned down the hall to enter a bedroom.

‘There’s a clothes dryer in the utility room downstairs if you want to use it,” Cole said. “Maybe you can wear my sister’s clothes. She keeps some things here.” He opened a closet door, then glanced back at Marilee whose expression was clearly skeptical. “Hey! She is my sister.”

“I didn’t say a word nor do I care what female clothing is in your bedroom.”

She saw the wicked gleam in his blue eyes and braced herself for some of his devilment. He held up his hand. “I swear, they’re my sister’s clothes. She spends some weekends here. And you don’t have to say anything. Disapproval is flashing in your green eyes.”

“That’s not so! We have no attachment to each other. We’re strangers …”

“Ahhh, strangers? After the kisses we shared?”

She blushed and hated it. “I’ll find something to wear.”

“There’s a connecting bath. My room is across the hall. Want to see it?”

“Not really.”

He chuckled. “Take your time. When you get changed, come downstairs. I’ll be waiting. After we eat
I’ll
show you Bonny Charles.”

“Who’s Bonny Charles?”

“Bonny Charles of Argyle. He’s my prize Angus.” He started out of the room. “If you need help with a zipper or anything …”

“I won’t need your help!”

He laughed again as he crossed the room to the door. Unbidden, as she watched muscles ripple in his tanned back, she recalled her first glimpse of him, of his fit, male body. Instead of leaving the room, he suddenly glanced over his shoulder, catching her studying him.

There was no way to stop the warmth flooding her cheeks again. He tilted his head, his expression altering slightly. He turned around to face her, his brown fingers resting on the white towel over his hips.

“Sure you don’t want my help?” he said, his voice low.

‘Thank you, no. Definitely not.”

When his gaze went over her once again in a thorough, lingering appraisal that made her cheeks continue to burn, she said, “I hope there’s a dress with a high neck and long sleeves in the closet.”

He smiled. “In this Kansas heat, I doubt if my sister brought any such dress here. But, if she did—my memory’s good.”

The twinkle in his blue eyes was impossible to resist and she laughed. “Do you ever let up?”

“I can’t. I’m overcome. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Oh, no, I’m sure you haven’t!”

“I haven’t. It’s the first time someone has come down into my pool in a hot-air balloon. You’ve amused me, you’re luscious, delightful to kiss—”

‘Thank you,” she said quickly.

“And you need
help. …”

“With what?”

“Your dreadful hang-ups.”

“No, thanks a million anyway. I can imagine your methods of help. I don’t have a bunch of hang-ups. I’m the normal one.”

He chuckled, turning to go. “See you downstairs.”

As soon as he was gone, she crossed the room to close the door. Sighing with relief, she gazed around the spacious room. A high ceiling and wide windows proclaimed the house’s age. The room was furnished in white, and even the four-poster bed had a white organdy canopy above a frilly white spread. Pink carpet covered the floor. It was obviously a woman’s room. She wondered if his sister really did stay here.

She pulled the long cord to turn on a celling fan, watching the blades slowly rotate, stirring a breeze. Both windows were open and she strolled over to one to look out. She was facing north, away from the pool. There was a wide fenced yard, a road running in front of it, then golden wheat spreading away to the flat, distant horizon. To her right she saw some of the outbuildings, a shed and the red roof of the barn.

She moved to the closet and studied the halfdozen dresses hanging there, trying first one, then another until she selected a sundress.

An hour later she was bathed. Her hair had been washed and dried and was shining with glistening highlights. It fell loosely over her shoulders, swinging slightly with each step. Tied over each shoulder with spaghetti straps, the green cotton sundress had a full skirt that swirled against her bare, tanned legs. It was slightly long, but it fit otherwise and was cool enough for the hot Kansas summer. The sandals she had found were a size too large, but adequate, and Marilee walked carefully down the stairs. She was almost at the bottom when Cole appeared, standing with his arms akimbo, watching her descent.

He looked so handsome! The magnetism that hovered between them struck her with a tingling awareness, making her pulse gallop. Her gaze ran over him and she was surprised to see a white apron partially covering his pale blue-knit shirt and dark slacks.

Appraising her in return, he whistled appreciatively.

She missed her step. As she started to tumble down the stairs, she grabbed at the banister. Cole’s strong arms caught her and she blushed furiously as she looked up at him, silently cursing the awkward, too-large sandals.

“Thank you.”

He continued to hold her against his chest. “I should’ve whistled sooner.”

She wriggled free, keeping her voice calm. “It’s the shoes. Are you helping Jada cook dinner?”

“Nope, I gave Jada the evening off. Come on. I’ll fix you a drink and you can watch me cook.”

Walking cautiously to keep the sandals on her feet, she followed him to the kitchen. It was oldfashioned but equipped with modern appliances. The cabinets had glass fronts, but the countertop was white Formica. The woodwork was also white and pots of flowers hung in the south and east windows.

Cole looked in the oven. “Potatoes are baking but it’ll be awhile before they’re ready. We’ll eat on the patio because it’s cooler and I can grill steaks outside.”

While he knelt down to pull a pan out of a drawer, she noted how his slacks molded his strong legs. He straightened and caught her watching him, and she turned away to hide what she suspected might be revealed in her face.

“Marilee.”

His voice was low, seductive, sending an insidious shiver from head to toe. She heard his boots strike the floor, then his hands were on her shoulders and he turned her to face him. A thick lock of brown hair curled over his forehead and she fought the urge to smooth it back. “There is something special between us,” he said in a husky voice.

Exhaling slowly, she gazed up at him. “Cole, don’t rush me.”

“I’m not.”

“Keep your mind on cooking.”

“How can I?” He smiled. “The best dish in the house has red hair.” He kissed the tip of her nose and his voice returned to normal. “What would you like to drink? A glass of red wine?”

“Yes, please. Can I help?”

“Come here.” He took her arm and led her outside to the patio. It was shaded by sycamores and had rough oak chairs and a table, and a chaise with bright orange cushions. Another high stake fence gave them complete privacy.

“You have a thing about fences, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I value my privacy.” He stopped by one of the chairs. “You sit down here. I’ll bring your wine and join you in a second.”

After he went inside, she looked around. A trail of tempting hickory smoke rose from a black grill. The table was set for two with lovely crystal and china that looked slightly incongruous on the patio.

Other than the song of a bird, it was still, so peaceful. She sat quietly relaxed while a slight breeze cooled her. It had been a strange day and she still felt dazed, as if in shock. This morning seemed years away.

Cole pushed open the door, interrupting her reverie. Carrying a basket of bread, he stepped outside, his gaze lowered as he crossed the patio. The apron was gone. He walked with an easy grace, his broad shoulders swinging slightly. The vivid image sprang to mind of his muscular, nude body, the mat of dark hair covering his chest. When he sat down facing her, knees almost touching, his blue eyes levelled on her, she felt a tightening in her midriff.

“What’re you thinking?” Cole murmured.

She feigned casualness. “Not much.”

In a mocking drawl, he said, “I haven’t known you twenty-four hours, but I know that answer is pure bull.”

“I’m not about to tell you what’s on my mind.”

“Let me guess …”

“No!”

He laughed. “That bad, eh?”

“Not at all. I can just imagine your suggestive guesses.”

“Do you know how pink your cheeks are?”

“That’s a redhead’s curse.”

“I think it’s delightful. It goes with your green eyes.” He smiled and handed her a glass of wine before holding his out in a toast. “Here’s to our future.”

“How can I drink to that?”

“It’s easy. Raise your glass.”

Relenting, she smiled also and touched his glass lightly with hers.

“I want to get to know you,” he said after he sipped the wine. “You said you teach. What age children?”

“All ages. I’ve taught remedial reading in grades two through twelve. This year I’m teaching high school.”

“Do you often see quick results or are the results long-range?”

“That’s the thrill of my work. It’s the most marvelous feeling in the world to see children change, to see them grasp the printed word, master a skill most of them thought impossible.”

He rested his chin on his hand, leaning close to her while he listened to the enthusiasm in her voice. After sipping her wine, she continued. “I’ve worked out methods of my own and I’ve written a textbook.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good!”

“I’m pleased. It’s been adopted in some Wichita high schools this year and—”

“Your eyes seem a deeper green than this afternoon,” he interrupted in a soft voice.

A warmth slithered down her spine. “It’s this green dress that does it.”

“I interrupted you. Go ahead. And …?”

For an instant she stared at him blankly, trying to remember what she had been telling him. “Oh. Next year more schools will use my text. A high school in Arkansas City will have it and two in Topeka.” While she talked he scooted closer and reached out to brush a tendril of hair from her shoulder. Suddenly she had difficulty concentrating on her conversation. She’d had three sips of wine, yet she had a giddy feeling that was short-circuiting her thought processes. “I’m writing a second text now.”

“I think that’s great! You must be good at teaching reading.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “My nephew has difficulty reading.” His hand rested on her shoulder, his flesh warm against her own, and he toyed with the ends of her hair.

“Has he been tested for dyslexia, problems of that sort?” She tried to control a shiver as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“Yep. He just doesn’t want to read, he doesn’t like it.”

She studied his amazingly thick, curly eyelashes, his strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. “He probably doesn’t like reading because he can’t do it. How old is he?”

“Eight.” He swished strands of her hair over her shoulder, tickling her skin, making it increasingly difficult to breathe.

“He’s young. Usually the younger the student, the easier he is to help.”

“Oh, you slipped there. Aren’t there any ‘she’s’—any girls?”

“Of course not! We’re far quicker than the male.”

He laughed, making creases deepen around his mouth and lines fan out from the corners of his eye. “The female—superior of the species.”

“Naturally. Little girls come into the world with brains going full steam.”

“All set on ensnaring a male.”

She laughed. “Now you slipped,” she said with a laugh. “You revealed your feelings about women.” Sobering, she caught his hand. “This belongs here.” She removed it from her shoulder and placed it carefully on the arm of his chair.

He immediately raised it again to trace her jaw. “Why? You don’t like my touch?”

“I lose my train of thought.”

His gaze moved leisurely over her features, lingering on her lips while his voice became husky. “Isn’t that a coincidence? I have the same reaction.” With each word he leaned closer and her pulse jumped wildly. His lips met hers, brushing, teasing, then taking hers fully. If anything, his kiss was more dazzling than it had been in the afternoon. The erotic tingles exploding from his demanding mouth set off a roar in her ears.

She dimly felt him remove the glass of wine from her hand. He rose and slipped his arm around her waist. He lifted her easily and sat down with her on his lap. For a brief moment she yielded, running her fingers across the strong column of his throat, winding them in the thick, soft hair that curled at the nape of his neck.

Like snatching at leaves in a high wind, she gathered her wits, pushing away and rising to slip back into her chair. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” she asked in a shaky voice.

His expression was solemn, intent. “I can’t help what I feel when I touch you.”

Her insides would definitely be out of kilter if he didn’t stop. “Slow down a little!”

He sipped his wine, still gazing at her with piercing, stormy blue eyes. His tone was another caress. “You drop out of the blue into my life, working a magic spell over me, witch.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” she answered, wishing she didn’t sound so breathless. When his slow smile refuted her words thoroughly, she added, “Maybe you’ve been isolated here too long.”

He studied her thoughtfully. “It’s summertime, you’ll be here to paint my house—”