Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (71 page)

The hardness of his erection against her gave her an unexpected sense of triumph.

“Let’s go to your house while I can still walk,” Wyatt joked, gently pushing her away from him.

They had only two more blocks. They walked quickly, in silence. Above them, a half moon rode the sky, joining with the stars to sprinkle the earth with silver light and darker shadows. SUVs sat in driveways like giant primeval sleeping monsters. No wind stirred the trees, no dog barked, no bird chirped. Carley felt as if she were on another planet, a fantasy world separate from reality.

They were holding hands. As they came to her house, their pace increased. She fumbled with the keys and then they were inside. Wyatt pushed her against the door and pressed himself against her.

After a long kiss, she tore herself away. “Wyatt—I’m a little nervous.”

To her surprise, he said, “Me, too. We’ll go slow. We’ll stop whenever you want.”

She took his hand and pulled him up the stairs to the second floor, which was off limits to the B&B guests. She led him down the hall past the master bedroom to one of the extra bedrooms, where her parents or Sarah and Sue stayed when they came to visit. She shut and locked the door. She turned to face him and Wyatt came at her, tall, lean, hard, almost desperate, wrapping his arms around her and half walking, half carrying her to the bed. They fell on it, and as she ground her body against his, her lips against his, all nervousness vanished. All restraint was gone. This was primitive, unstoppable, basic. They moved apart only for Wyatt to unzip and lower his jeans, for Carley to raise her dress and remove her panties, and then his naked skin was against hers, she felt the brush and bristle of his hair against her abdomen and thighs, she twisted beneath him, she raised her hips, and with a low moan, he entered her.

“Oh,” she said. Every cell of her body was alive. Anticipation rippled through her like starlight on water, possessing her very depths.

“Don’t move,” he said. He raised himself on his elbows and looked down at her. “I want this to last.”

But she was on fire. She was on the verge of something, she was somewhere she’d never been before in her life.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she told him, and she moved her hips, and he thrust deeper, and a wild sensation shuddered through her, like the sun rising in the morning, expanding its warm light everywhere, illuminating the world.

He put his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries. She licked the palm of his hand, and he groaned deeply and came.

She didn’t want to let him go. He didn’t want to move. For a long time he supported himself on his arms, while their torsos grew moist with sweat, but finally she unclenched her legs from around him and he rolled on his back. As he moved, he kept his hand on her body, not wanting to break the connection.

She rolled on her side and nuzzled against him. She drew her hand over his long abdomen, curled her fingers in his thick brown pubic hair, stroked his thigh.

“You’re created from marble and satin,” she murmured.

“You’re created from honey,” he replied. He rolled onto his side and gazed into her eyes. “Carley, I’ve wanted to do that ever since the first time I saw you.”

She touched his face with her fingertips. “Are we very bad?”

He captured her hand in his and kissed her palm. She shivered.

“Just for this week,” he said slowly, “let’s not think about anyone else. Let’s just be ourselves, together.” When she hesitated, he said, “The answer is no, Carley, I don’t think we’re being bad. If I did, I wouldn’t be here. But this week has fallen out of the sky like some kind of miracle, and I don’t want to lose a minute of it.”

“Okay.” She ran her free hand down his belly to his groin.

“What should we do?”

He answered by rolling back on top of her, and this time they made love together with a slowness that left her breathless.

The smell of coffee woke her.

“What?” She sat up in bed, dazed. She still wore her watch. It was after eight. Next to her, Wyatt slept heavily, snoring, naked, the sheet crumpled around his legs.

“My guests,” she whispered to herself and jumped from the bed. No time for a shower. She raced down the hall, pulled on shorts and a shirt and sandals, and hurried down the stairs.

Maxine and Karl Yoder from Philadelphia sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

“I’m
so
sorry!” Carley apologized. “I overslept. I
never
oversleep. My daughters are away, and I didn’t set my alarm—”

Mrs. Yoder was a plump motherly woman in her fifties. “Honey, I’m an old hand at brewing up coffee. The sweet rolls and muffins under the dome were as good as they were yesterday. The couple from Moon Shell went off to meet friends for breakfast at Arno’s and I don’t think the people in Angel’s Wing are awake yet.”

“Oh, good.” Carley cast a longing look at the coffeepot. Should she drink the coffee Mrs. Yoder had made? If she did, should she give the couple a discount on their charge? God, she couldn’t think straight and she knew she probably reeked of sex!

“You look very pretty this morning,” Mrs. Yoder said. “And happy, too.”

Carley dipped in a playful little curtsey. “Thank you. You look very pretty, too.”

“This sunshine makes us all look good,” Mr. Yoder said. Pushing himself up, he said, “Come on, Maxie. Places to go. Things to do.”

Carley waited until they’d left the kitchen, then made a beeline for the coffeepot.

“Good morning.” Wyatt appeared in the kitchen doorway. He had dressed in last night’s clothing, but he needed a shave and his hair stuck out in all directions. Still, he looked as sexy as hell.

She poured him a cup of coffee and brought it to him. “Mrs. Yoder made it. I overslept.”

“God bless Mrs. Yoder,” Wyatt said. With one hand, he took the cup. With the other, he pulled Carley against him so he could kiss her cheek. “Man needs sustenance.”

Carley smiled. “Sweet rolls and fruit, too.”

They sat companionably, eating, drinking juice, as normal as any couple.

Carley stared at Wyatt, wanting to absorb him through her eyes. Wanting more? Oh, yes. She asked, “Wyatt, do you think we made a mistake?”

“Do you?”

She tried to sort through her thoughts. “Last night was astonishing. But this morning I have to say I’m a little freaked out.”

“Do you feel guilty?”

“No. I don’t feel guilty. But I guess I wonder if I
should
feel guilty.”

“It is sudden,” Wyatt agreed. “But Carley, I’ve been wanting to—”

“Good morning!” Francine and Genevieve, who were staying in Angel’s Wing, breezed into the room, bringing scents of perfumed soap and strawberry shampoo. “Isn’t it a fab day?” Casting their eyes on Wyatt, who had suddenly stood up, they both batted their lashes. “Well, hello. Are you staying here?”

“Actually,” Wyatt said, “I’m just leaving.” Leaning over, he pecked a chaste kiss on Carley’s cheek. “I’ll call you later.”

She was not a teenager. She couldn’t go to her room and bite her pillow and indulge in remembering every moment of last night. She had work to do. She checked Angel’s Wing out and sent Maria off to clean and prepare it for the next guests. She settled at her desk, turned on her computer, and ordered supplies to be shipped from off-island, the toilet paper, tissues, paper towels, soaps, and cleaning supplies she bought in bulk.

When the phone rang, she snatched it up.

• • • • •

“Hi, Mommy!” Margaret’s sweet voice rang clear as chimes over the distance. “Do you miss us? We miss you. We went to the zoo yesterday! I saw a lion, and a chimpanzee smiled at me, they have really big teeth, and—”

This is reality, Carley reminded herself as she listened to her younger daughter chattering away. This is what really matters.

Cisco came on, sounding relaxed and happy. “We’re going into the city today,” she informed Carley, “to see the Museum of Natural History, like in the movie with Ben Stiller!”

“Ooh, how fabulous, Cis. Wish I were with you.”

“Grandpa and Grandma have central air-conditioning, too,” Cisco said smugly.

“Oh, flip me with a spatula and call me done,” Carley joked.

She spoke with her parents about the plans for the week. Her parents lived such responsible lives, but Carley had seen photos of them when they were young and clearly they’d been crazy about each other. In their own undemonstrative way, they still were.

Mom
, Carley wanted to say,
I just had the most unexpected, amazing, off-the-charts sex in my life last night. I feel like I’m in love and I feel nearly sick with guilt. What should I do?

But she said nothing. She knew what her mother would say: sex gets people into trouble. She saw the results all the time at her day care center.

After saying good-bye to them all, Carley put down the phone and flicked on her accounting program. The numbers swam before her eyes. She folded her arms and put her head down and allowed herself to drift on memories of the night before. The slide of Wyatt’s body against hers. His touches, delicate, and then not delicate at all. His—the phone rang.

“Carley,” Wyatt said. “Can you talk?”

“Yes. Everyone’s gone.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Good.” Her voice was throaty with desire.

“Listen, here’s what I think. We’ve been given a gift with this week. We’d be fools not to take it. I want to be with you every moment I can, and we can figure out where to go from here. What do you think?”

“Oh, Wyatt. Yes.” She laughed at herself. “I want to crawl right through the phone into your arms.”

“It might be easier if I just walked back to your house,” Wyatt said.

“Now?”

“Now.”

As they lay in bed together, Wyatt’s eyes lazily lingered on Carley’s breasts, while a light, unconscious smile lifted his mouth. He said, “You’re so beautiful.”

She took his hand, kissed it, and murmured, “You, too.”

She could feel her chest dappling pink from shyness at his staring, and from pure animal satisfaction, and she thought how the heat pulsing through her, dilating her veins and arteries, pinking her skin, deepening her breathing, was like that of any flower on a warm summer day. She could understand how bulbs could survive the cold winter beneath the dark earth, how dry seeds could split open, shooting shafts of green stems up into the light, where buds swelled and unfolded and lay themselves open to the life-giving heat of the sun. She had been through her own winter. Now she was returning to full life.

This was what Wyatt had done, was doing, for her. She loved her daughters, of course, they were the miracle and center of her world. But in her own body and spirit, something had been dormant. When she had given birth to her daughters, she had felt as if she were gripped by the deep source of the universe. Here it was again, the great fierce force of life seizing her by the scruff of her neck, shaking her awake, igniting her into a glowing, radiant blossom thick with juice, nectar, and joy.

It wasn’t just the sex. They had everything to tell each other. They sat up late into the night, talking about their childhoods, their families, their dreams. They made juicy lobster rolls at two in the morning and ate them, licking each other’s fingers. Because they had always suspected they shared a slightly warped sense of humor, they had a marathon of DVDs of Robin Williams, Dane Cook, and Ben Stiller. One night after a day of rain, when the temperature had dropped and a cool breeze made the muggy air comfortable, they put on music and danced. Quiet music, because Carley didn’t want to wake her guests. Romantic music. Slow music.

They talked to each other like college students just learning about themselves. Wyatt asked Carley how it had been, having a sister who was gay. That hadn’t been a problem, Carley told him. Sarah had been bright, witty, and a popular jock. She had been considered ultracool. The problem for Carley had been following in the steps of such a successful sister.

Wyatt remembered growing up with Gus, best friends and constant companions. Their parents were close friends who got together often to sail to Coatue or Tuckernuck for the day. Gus was an only child, but Wyatt had an older sister, Wendy, who treated Gus like her little brother. When their parents wouldn’t take them to see
Ghostbusters
or
Indiana Jones
or
Batman
, Wendy took them. She was their hero. And she was their cheerleader. Gus had been quarterback of the high school football team, Wyatt had been running
back. Gus had organized the beach cleanups and car washes for class trips. Wyatt was his first lieutenant. Both boys were fascinated by the law, and by the time they were in high school, they decided Wyatt would be a junior partner in the Winsted firm.

Carley said softly, “I wonder what Gus would think about us.”

Wyatt made a face. “If he were alive, he’d kill me. As it is, I think he’d want you to be happy. Me, too.”

Carley said, “I’ve thought about this a lot, when I’m not with you—when I’m capable of thought,” she added with a smile. “I don’t feel disrespectful to Gus. I don’t have the sense that he’s around somewhere, watching me angrily. People say things to widows, they say, ‘Gus would want you to be happy.’ ”

“I think they’re right. Gus
would
want you to be happy. He loved you and he cherished those girls. And his parents love you. That was important to him.”

“I love his parents.” Wryly, she added, “Sometimes.”

“But do you know how unusual that is? How many people
love
their in-laws? Russell and Annabel appreciated everything you did with Gus. You fixed up this old wreck and made it a home. You came from off-island and made good friends in the community. We have to go on from this point. I think we need to worry about Cisco and Margaret and Gus’s parents.”

“I agree.”

“I think we get to pay a bit of attention to ourselves, too. We matter, too, Carley.”

The night before everyone returned, Carley and Wyatt sat in the kitchen, sharing a midnight snack of milk and scones and cookies and fruit. Carley, half-drugged from hours of intense sex, wasn’t sure she wanted to get into a discussion. Yet perhaps they had to.