Remember the Dreams (12 page)

K
yle's jaw sagged in disappointment; his eyes closed in relief. Quite predictably, that crazy combination of reactions vanished with the slow blink of his lashes.

"Need a hand?" he asked blandly, standing up to extend his as she moved to the step beside him.

Keeping her eyes on the step so she wouldn't slip and do something totally graceless, she felt rather than saw Kyle watching her ankles, calfs and thighs disappear into the warm water. She felt his eyes continue upward. The top of her white maillot was quite modest—no sense calling any attention to her lesser attributes—but the high, French cut of its legs made her legs appear even longer.

Toni lifted her head to smile up at him, but he had already let go of her hand and turned around to open the wine.

"Seventy-nine was a good year for this."

She was staring at the shadow of his dark, and very brief, swim trunks below the water line and was following the indentation of his spine upward to his broad shoulders. Michaelangelo couldn't have sculpted the male anatomy more perfectly.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled to his back. She couldn't seem to make her eyes move. "What did you say?"

"The wine. The Maconnais district produced an excellent white Burgundy in '78 and '79."

"Excellent," she swallowed.

There was something very compelling about the way the rivulets of water traced the outline of his hard muscles, and the way those wide shoulders tapered to such a tight little . . . She gave her head a shake. The hot water must be making her a little fuzzy, and she needed to keep her wits about her.

He turned around, and her glance fell on the purplish bruise on his left side. With forced ease, she raised her eyes to his. "Does it still hurt?"

It was impossible not to know what she was talking about.

"Only when I laugh," he commented dryly.

"Then I guess we'll have to stick to serious subjects."

"Is the subject you wanted to talk about all that serious?"

"I'm not the one who wanted to talk. That was your idea."

Though amusement curved his firm mouth at her pointed reminder, Kyle was watching her intently. Toni couldn't tell if it was the powerful jet she was standing next to, or the way he was looking at her, that caused the odd, surging sensations she was experiencing at the moment.

"Why don't you tell me what you had in mind then?" he suggested.

She opened her mouth to speak. But quickly closed it again and jerked her eyes to the bubbles breaking rapidly on the surface of the water.

Taking her by the shoulders, Kyle pushed her down onto the bench molded into the spa and handed her one of the filled goblets. "Down the hatch," he ordered. "By the time you finish your half of the bottle, Uncle Kyle will have pried it out of you."

Something in his tone made his obvious reminder of how he viewed their relationship sound strangely like a test. And Toni had the uncomfortable feeling that the tables were turning somehow.

"You're not my uncle," she stated, taking a sip of the wine she didn't want.

"Ok. Brother Kyle, then."

"That makes you sound like a monk. And you're not my brother either."

Though her tone was mildly teasing, there was no humor in her eyes. There was in Kyle's though. "I didn't mean it literally," he defended.

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't want you to mean it figuratively either?"

She had spoken the words quickly, knowing that if she'd hesitated at all, she would have lost her nerve. All she could do now was watch while he sat down a couple of feet away. That, and hold her breath.

Kyle absently tasted his wine, tipping the glass to thoughtfully study its pale clarity. Toni thought her lungs would explode if he didn't say something soon.

He took another sip and directed his question to the stem of his goblet. "Does this mean I've been disinherited?"

The air slid between her teeth in a soft rush. Was the man trying to be obtuse? Or did that particular trait come naturally?

She'd give it one last shot. If this didn't work. . .

Her courage must be born of love. She'd never have the nerve to do this otherwise.

Placing her glass on the lip of the tub, she glanced over his shoulder. There were two little buttons behind him. One was for the Jacuzzi-type jets, and the other controlled the aerator that caused the turbulent bubbles. "You don't mind if I turn this off, do you? It's sort of noisy."

Not waiting for a response, she leaned across him, flattening her breasts against his chest and draping her arm over his shoulder. One quick tap of her finger and the bubbles disappeared.

She felt his chest expand as he inhaled sharply, and a thousand little shocks darted through her. He didn't move. But his expression remained frustratingly blank.

"Is that better?" he asked, his eyes following his hand while he raised the glass again. He took another swallow, then pronounced, "This really is very good."

She stifled a defeated moan. Here she was draped across him like a sacrificial mermaid, and all he was interested in was the blasted wine!

Well, she'd done everything she could think of short of attacking him, and she wasn't about to make a bigger fool of herself than she already had.

Her knee rested against the side of his hip. She had to push against him to maintain her balance as she pulled away—or started to pull away. His other hand had settled on her thigh.

"You didn't answer me." Kyle set his glass down, leaving his arm draped over the edge of the spa. "I asked you if it was better."

Her throat felt tight. "It's quieter with the aerator off." She felt his fingers move upward on her thigh, stilling when they settled on her hip. The water was warm, but the skin beneath his hand felt much warmer.

"I'm not talking about the spa equipment."

"I am," she said, trying to defend herself.

"No, you're not. And I think you might as well tell me just what it is that you want."

She was drowning. Not in the heated water gently surging around them, but in the liquid depths of his smoky gray eyes. His gaze fell to her mouth.

"I just ..." The words stuck. She lowered her head, unable to meet the demand in his expression. There were droplets of water shimmering through the dark hairs on his chest, and she could see the pulse beating at the base of his strong neck.

For someone who never hesitated when it came to juggling millions of dollars, who took on risks and attacked matters with aggression, she was definitely lacking in those assertive traits now.

"You just. . . ?" Kyle prompted.

Her voice was thready, and faint. "I. . . just wanted you to . . . hold me."

A soft whisper of breath tickled her forehead, and she felt his hand drift over her hip as his arm slid around her back. "Come here."

Toni could scarcely breathe. The buoyancy of the water allowed him to lift her easily, and he settled her on his lap. His forearm stayed securely around her back, his hand folded over her stomach. An enervating flutter began to radiate downward from there. With his free hand, he coaxed her head to his shoulder, then allowed his fingers to rest on the side of her neck.

"We all need to be held at times, princess." His lips brushed her brow. "But is that all you want?"

His last words were nothing more than a whisper. Toni didn't hear them over the pounding of her heart, and the beat of Kyle's echoing in her ear. This is where she wanted to be. This is what she had dreamed of. Just being held by him. It would be enough, for now.

A soft whimpering sound escaped from her throat, and his thumb slid over to still the one that followed.

Kyle was barely aware of the soft kisses he was raining in her hair, conscious only of her fingers wending through the wet curls on his chest and the feel of her shallow breath cooling his heated skin. He would only do what she had asked. He would just hold her—and wait to see what she might do.

Toni tipped her head back, the blue of her eyes almost hidden by the heavy fringe of her lashes. Her lips were parted and looked so soft. Kyle felt dazed. Like everything had just taken on some unreal quality that made rationality an unwanted intruder. There was no mistaking what she wanted. At the moment, that was all he wanted, too.

Her eyes closed as his hand folded over her breast, and his lips lowered to hers.

She was kissing him back. Inviting him into the sweet warmth of her mouth. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers and encouraging the tiny, mewing sounds buried in her throat. She leaned against his hand, compelling the gentle manipulation of his fingers. Even with the heat of the water swirling around them, and through the flimsy fabric covering her, he could feel her nipple hardening.

Reluctantly he moved his hand.

A soft moan of protest was muffled against his mouth. "It's ok," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth and the smooth skin behind her ear. "I only want to take this off."

The ties of her maillot fell away and he drew the fabric down to reveal the gentle swell of her breasts.

Her eyes were wide and the most incredible shade of aquamarine he had ever seen. There was pleading in those languorous depths, a silent request for acceptance that he found so unnecessary.

Splaying his fingers around her waist, he turned her to face him. The huskiness in his voice was enhanced by the feel of her as her knees settled on either side of his hips. Drawing his hands slowly up her sides, feeling the tremors shimmering through her, he cupped her breasts, taunting their rigid tips with his thumbs. "You're perfect, princess," he assured quietly, grazing one tight, umber aureole and then the other before looking back up.

Her head was above his, and her fingers lay curled over his shoulders. Slowly her head lowered and he met that enchanting mouth.

The dull throbbing between his legs escalated to a demanding ache when she arched toward him. Following the line of her throat, his mouth covered one of the hard buds, rolling its tip with his tongue. Her skin tasted like honey, and with each flick of his tongue her sweetness made him crave even more.

Never had Toni allowed a man to touch her so intimately. Never had she dreamed how wonderfully bewildering the sensations he was evoking could be. She wanted Kyle to feel everything she was feeling, to know the love that guided her unpracticed caresses and fueled the desires he was creating within her.

Stroking her fingers through his hair, she kissed its softness, then traced a path with her lips to his shoulder. Tactile senses merged with less definable ones. He tasted warm, and his skin felt like satin, and steel.

His hands were on her waist again, and his lips claimed hers. She felt him drawing her down to his hardness. Something hot coiled inside her, a tension so foreign that she couldn't begin to identify it. When his hips thrust forward, pressing his masculinity against the fabric separating them, she felt that heat become a deep, pulsing ache. Unconsciously, she imitated his slow, erotic rocking motion, unwilling to acknowledge the threat of feminine fear tensing her body. She had nothing to fear. Kyle would . . .

"My God, Toni," he rasped, his fingers digging into the small of her back. "Slow down!"

She hadn't been prepared to cope with the insistent demands of her body. Those demands fought her, begged her to ignore the words that penetrated the sensual fog holding her in its misty grasp. But his last words had been spoken too emphatically to be avoided, and he was pushing her away.

He edged her toward his knees, and she saw her own needs mirrored in his beautifully tortured expression.

"Is this what you had in mind when you asked me to hold you?"

If it hadn't been for the desire so evident in his voice, he might have sounded teasing.

Toni's own voice, that husky contralto, was deeper than usual, too. "Not quite."

Who was she trying to kid? It was exactly what she'd had in mind!

Tracing the fullness of her bottom lip with his finger, he whispered, "So what do you propose we do now?"

He had told himself that she would have the choice. She had started this, and he'd thought that he'd leave it up to her to dictate how it would end.

Her hesitation made him change his mind.

Picking up the strings of her top floating between them, he tied them around her neck. She still hadn't answered him, not verbally anyway. But the message in her eyes was clear.

She wanted him.

"It's getting late," he said, forcing his own desires behind a mask of controlled indifference.

He wanted her. Toni was just as certain of that as she was her own name. His shuttered expression didn't fool her one bit.

"You're right," she managed with a tremulous smile. "It is getting late."

Not another word was said as he helped her out of the spa, handed her one of the towels from the bench, and watched her pad quickly through his bedroom to hers.

Kyle headed straight for the shower.

❧

It was Saturday. Since it was also only a little after nine in the morning, that meant that Madeline would be working in the kitchen, and Kyle would be downstairs working out.

Toni could hear pots and pans rattling in the sink as she headed toward the kitchen. She'd have a quick cup of coffee with Madeline—if Kyle was on schedule this morning, he wouldn't be upstairs for at least half an hour—and then she'd leave for the office. She didn't trust herself to see him yet. The wistful smile clinging to her lips simply didn't want to go away, and that would be far too revealing.

Her memories of what had happened last night had given way to her wonderful old dream. It had seemed so real, and in her mind she could still see his smile of adoration as she floated toward him in a billowing white gown while an organ played and the scent of orange blossoms filled . . .

She gave her head a shake and dropped her briefcase on the entryway table. She'd made progress last night. But not that much! And right now, she'd be better off thinking about the Westline Clinic account.

That thought effectively removed her smile. It was going to be a while before she could implement her decision not to "work on weekends anymore. This business of working six and seven days a week was definitely beginning to lose its former appeal.

"Morning." Toni directed her greeting to the skirt of her winter white wool dress and flicked a piece of lint from the pleat. Tossing her matching jacket on the counter, she smiled up at. . . Kyle. Rather, his back. He was standing at the sink.

Thank God that dumb, misty grin wasn't plastered on her face anymore!

"Morning," he returned, not bothering to turn around. "Coffee's ready."

Toni headed for the cupboard, watching him through her lowered lashes. "Where's Madeline this morning?"

"At the store." He turned off the water he'd been running into a large saucepan—Madeline had already been busy with more preparations for tonight's party—and dried his hands on the towel he'd flipped over his shoulder. "I got left in charge of KP. You have an appointment?"

Toni drowned her vague sense of disappointment with a sip of coffee. It was normal conversation. Depressingly normal.

With an inward sigh, she glanced down at her dress. She knew what had prompted his question. Usually, she wore slacks to the office on weekends. "Actually..." She picked up his empty mug from beside the coffeepot, silently asking if he wanted more by lifting it toward him. He nodded. ". . . I have a couple of appointments. They're not until this afternoon though, and I thought I'd spend the morning trying to find my desk. The last I saw of it, it was buried under a pile of computer printouts."

She handed him his cup. Only the slight pinch of her eyebrows indicated that she'd noticed how carefully he'd avoided touching her fingers.

"When will you be home?"

"By five or so ... I hope." Her blue eyes swept cautiously to his face. He looked tired. "Why?"

"Just curious. How did you sleep?"

He was watching her over the rim of his mug.

It was a simple question. Rather like asking someone how they were and expecting nothing more than an equally simple, "Fine."

Toni knew that he wasn't just making idle conversation though.

"Ok, I guess." She held his unblinking gaze steadily. "And you?"

Cat and mouse. It was an unusual game for them to play.

Kyle's gray eyes were deliberately traveling the length of her body, their depths unrevealing when they returned to her slightly flushed features. "I've slept better," he informed her dryly.

Toni's small surge of triumph—if he was losing sleep because of her, she was definitely getting somewhere!—was interrupted by the doorbell.

She didn't quite understand his taunting smile as he took another sip of coffee, then announced that "Madeline's back."