Only Emma (9 page)

"Do you need her permission to fall in love again?" she asked without a second thought.

Nothing, he went silent again, didn't even seem to breathe for a moment.

"You'll have to find it in yourself, Jake."

He groaned. "You're probably right, you must be."

"Your wife is dead," she murmured.

"I know, I know."

She wanted to tell him he really didn't know, really hadn't come to terms with all that was involved in the loss of someone you loved but she couldn't end his grief for him. She turned away as an unexpected tear trickled down her cheek. This was not supposed to be an emotional evening but he was getting to her. The man hadn't an ounce of conceit in him, and high falutin' macho male he was not. She had to take care though; pity was no basis for a relationship. Yeah right, who said anything about any kind of long-term situation.

He reached out and gently ran his free hand down her arm. "You know something? I've never done this before."

"What?"

"Talked about Diane like this."

Her breath caught. "How does it feel?"

He laughed softly. "Perfectly right."

God, she was losing her mind over him just like she did with Ramon. But he wasn't Ramon. He lifted her life, turned it into a lilting melody. They could be so good together, making babies who'd grow up to be like Emma, studying the stars just like he had with his wife. Better even, every day would shine. He'd done that already for her, given life a sparkle just in the terribly brief time she'd known him. Did he understand that? Did he care?

He turned to face her, then took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle probing kiss. No, not this; the words flashed through her mind, but her body ignored them and she melted into him.

He broke the kiss and slowly ran his finger down her cheek. "You captivate me, Lissey. You blow my mind."

"I told you not to say things like that."

He touched his forehead to hers and laughed softly. "You are a delicious combination of strength and softie, kindness and charm, determination and all sorts of magical things."

He leaned across to place another kiss full on her mouth. His tongue probed her lips, caressing, searching for an opening. Her heart pounded like a big bass drum. She met his tongue with her own and let a wave of wild sensations take her body where they would. He fumbled for the button on her shorts and she reached down to help him. All thought and worry faded into shadow as hot passion seized her body.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured in her ear.

"You talk too much," she said hoarsely and yanked the nightie over her head. He slipped out of his shorts and took her in his arms pressing his erection hard against her groin. Her skin was electric with his touch as he ran his fingers everywhere, setting her afire.

Later, her skin damp with sweat, she lay back in his arms, her mind and body warm and contented for the first time in a long time.

"That was quick," he said.

"It's been a long time coming."

"Same for me."

"You've been a Pure Boy since your wife died?"

He chuckled. "I've been a soft boy. You were right. I needed her permission."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What changed tonight?"

"You."

"I don't get it."

"You said I had to find permission in myself. I did."

"Oh." Had she actually said that? Must have.

He planted a kiss on her breast. "I have a terrible memory for music, but Frank Sinatra used to sing a song called "Come Fly With Me." Something like that. I'm thinking of a variation on the theme."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"My version is, "Come Sail With Me.""

She hesitated, still not quite sure what he was asking. "I don't have much time for play in my life."

"I'm thinking something more than an afternoon sail."

Lissey found herself almost breathless. He wanted her to sail away with him? What else could he mean?

"Your mom and dad can run the shop. Or you can close it down."

"I can't do that. They depend on me." Yes, and she'd been thinking about moving to the States. What was wrong with her brain? What was she afraid of? Her heart thudded in her chest as she recalled his recitation of his memories of his wife. "I'm not your wife, Jake."

He brushed a finger across her lips. "Shh, I know. But we have to start somewhere."

He kissed her again. Butterflies filled her belly as he held her close, then rolled her up on top of him and ran his hand slowly, barely touching, along her spine. This was so sweet, so lovely and so wonderful, she didn't want it to end, ever, ever, never. Dare she hope? A cold chill struck her heart. Ramon had been the same seductive way when he'd made love to her all those years ago. She had to change the subject.

"What would you have done if I wasn't outside when you came ashore?" she asked.

"Thrown pebbles at your window to wake you."

"That's not very original."

"It's what they do in movies."

She laughed. "We don't have many pebbles here."

"I know, only sand. I would have figured something out."

"I'm sure you would have."

"Never mind. You are so beautiful, my Lissey."

He sounded so passionate, so sincere. So like Ramon. "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

He laughed again. "You are, and I've only said that to one other woman in my life."

Cynicism vying with excitement, she struggled to control the dangerous beating of her heart. "Your wife I presume."

He nodded, the movement barely discernible in the darkness. "The only other woman I have ever loved."

A shiver of excitement ran up her back. Only other woman? She had to be careful; she liked this way too much.

"You're in my heart every minute of every day," he murmured.

"Let me roll over. If we're going to do it again, let's get to it."

"What's wrong? Why the rush?"

Why indeed. The knot in her stomach said she was afraid. Sex was one thing; sweet nothings in her ear could only get her hopes up, could only capture her heart and leave it ready to be shattered once again. She was lost already, captured by his words and touch. What if he sailed off like Ramon did? He actually said he loved her. Well, Ramon had said those same words more than once so that probably signified nada. She had to still her heart, had to get control of herself before she fell under his spell once more.

"You talk too much," she muttered again.

He found her lips with his again and rolled her off him to her back. "We need to talk. Look up at that sky."

"The stars are out tonight."

"See how bright they are? They sparkle like small diamonds in the darkness. You do that you know."

"I sparkle?"

He laughed. "That too. I meant you make the stars shine brighter than I've ever seen them before."

"That's silly."

"Nope, it's true. You make everything in my life shine brighter."

"You're just saying that."

He stared at her without a word, letting silence stretch out between them. Then he drew a deep breath. "You don't trust me."

"Don't be rid—"

He cut her off with a kiss and wrapped his arms around her in a breathtaking hug. The feel of him, so solid and so strong, sent waves of excitement racing through her body. He released her and slid his hands down her back, letting his touch linger on her hips, then on her waist, then on her breasts.

"I–"

"Shh. You talk too much," he whispered and nibbled at her ear.

His words and touch and lying next to him without a stitch of clothing turned her mind to mush. She hadn't done this in such a long time; she was ready for him again. She reached for his erection.

"Let's go slow this time," he said and kissed her breasts, one and then the other, then moved down to her belly and beyond until only one thing mattered; the heat and wet and fire that took control as she lay back, ready for whatever he would do.

****

Even as Jake pushed himself up on his elbows and gave her a chaste kiss, weariness replaced the warm feeling of  fulfillment in her body. Who knew the time exactly, but she had been up at least twenty hours and thirteen of them had been on her feet.

"You are amazing," he said and rolled off her to snuggle up beside  her. Touching a finger to her lips, he bent his head and followed with another kiss, this time to her breast.

"Don't start again, Jake, please. I'm exhausted."

He gave a soft laugh. "We did this backwards, you know."

"Backwards?"

"Yeah. We should have gotten intimate before we got intimate."

"Maybe my brain is asleep, but that makes no sense to me."

He laughed again. "We should have gotten to know one another before we did the deed."

"We know each other," she protested, but knew as soon as she spoke he meant more than just a few words exchanged over breakfast and some romantic tomfoolery on the beach. Except she hoped, oh she hoped, it was more than that.

"I don't know your dreams," he said. "Or your history."

"I don't have any dreams," she whispered.

"No plans, no wishes, no desires? You're happy working long backbreaking days with no end in sight? No husband, no children?"

Lissey sighed. Her weary brain could not deal with this at the moment. "No, not really."

"Well?"

"What about you? What do you dream about?"

"I'm easy. I want the life I had before my wife died."

"Oh."

"A terrific life."

She didn't respond. His wife again, he still wanted her back?

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"That's a dream you can't have anymore."

He grunted. "There are other terrific women in this world. I'm talking to one of them right now."

Lissey's breath caught in her throat. What could she say?

"I think you had dreams once upon a time. I'd like to bring them back to life," he murmured.

She sighed. There was no escaping his questions. She'd ducked her own long enough. "I've been thinking about moving to the States and going to college."

"That sounds good. Go for it."

Her foggy brain was catching up to her. "My mom and dad," she mumbled.

He reached a hand across her belly and pulled her close against him. "Your mom and dad need to take care of themselves. They're too young to be retired."

What did he say? Sleep had her in its grip now. He was talking, but his words were an indistinct jumble. "Tired," she whispered and was gone.

****

The screech of the alarm clock shocked her from sleep at five. Lissey lifted leaden lids, uncertain for a second where she was. She rolled over and struggled upright, her body protesting every muscle twitch. What time had she finally crawled into bed? The last thing she remembered was lying on the beach curled up in Jake's embrace. No, that was wrong. He had carried her to the front door and set her on her feet, then opened the door and gently nudged her inside. She'd practically been sleep walking, she'd been so tired.

She ran a hand through her hair. Yuck, how did she get so much sand in her hair? She giggled. All that horizontal thrashing about they did, that must have done it. Jake had been so sexy loving her the second time, selfless, doing everything to make it special for her. His every touch, caress, and kiss had turned her into a wanton woman. They had come together in a mad explosion of passion and desire. Oh my gosh! She hugged herself with the memory. Darling man. He had put her nightie back on for her before he sent her off to bed

She stood and headed for the bathroom. The image that stared back at her from the mirror above the sink needed a little beauty treatment. Bags under her eyes, straggly hair, she even had a hickey on the left side of her neck. A grin lit her face at the sight of it. Her mother would notice that. Well, she'd give her mom another tidbit to think about. When Jake came in for breakfast she'd greet him with a kiss. A hug too, a big one.

Lavinia would have a fit but that was too bad. Lissey had no regrets, the night had been wonderful. Jake had been so bloody sexy. She wanted more of that and the time she'd spent curled up afterward in his strong arms. Even if she did fall asleep on him.

Twenty minutes later, in the shop and kneading dough, her mind churned with memory and sensation. One idea was quite clear as she hashed over everything that happened. She wanted Jake Wainright in her life. More than sexy, he'd made her feel like a princess. In spite of all her reservations, all her doubts and resolutions, he'd stolen her heart.

What was that he'd said after they'd climaxed that second time and he'd eased off her? He had chattered on, asking her about her dreams and the secrets of her life. Fatigue clogged her memory of what he'd said, but he'd been sweet, that she knew. She'd never realized he could be so talkative. If only she could remember what he'd said.