Garden Of Fantasy Page 8

  Get real. His imagination was running away with him. She'd probably been hurt by a man in the past and disclosure was too risky. He'd have to back off and make her feel safe. She was such a delight to be around--upbeat and fun. She was a natural with kids and didn't know it. How could a woman seep into his skin, his blood, his senses so quickly before he knew what was happening?

  He didn't know how. He just knew she had. When he'd walked into that bedroom.... It was feminine enough to make a man's head reel. Mixed with the paint fumes was the lingering scent of her perfume. The ruffles on the bedspread begged to be mussed. Damn, he wanted her. And he was going to have her. Maybe not tonight, but sometime soon.

  ****

  Proudly, Nash led Beth into his house. She stood on the middle floor of the split level gazing around the living room. "I like this! The colors are so warm and comfortable."

  The living room captured the Sante Fe influence. Turquoise, peach and rust tones repeated in the oak-trimmed sofa, loveseat, and braided rug. Authentic Indian pottery and figurines accentuated the entertainment center that lined the inner wall. A woven hanging of cattails and wheat added a dramatic flair to the rough textured plaster.

  Nash lounged against the juncture of two walls, Beth's suitcase at his feet. "Since I spend most of my leisure time here, I wanted something...easy."

  She nodded. "It's welcoming. For working or relaxing."

  It was. But sometimes it was lonely, too. Beth seemed to fill the room with an elusive element that was missing when he was alone. "If I want to work, I go downstairs."

  "An office?"

  "The office. I work out of here. That's why there's such a large driveway. So clients have a place to park."

  She looked astonished. "I didn't realize that. I assumed you were located in one of the black and glass office buildings."

  How many other misconceptions did she have about him? Did they have something to do with her reticence? "Nope. This is more convenient. Would you like something to drink or eat before I show you the bedrooms?"

  She gazed through the arch into the dining room and kitchen beyond. "No thanks."

  He picked up her overnight bag. "Then it's time to choose a bed."

  The first room he showed her had what looked like two single beds. The red-white-and-blue striped wallpaper shouted color and life.

  Beth studied the room with interest, her eyes lingering on the fire engine collection in the corner. "Shannon has three boys, but there are only two beds."

  "One's a trundle. You're welcome to this room, but I think you'll like the next one better."

  She followed him across the hall to a bedroom done in plum and green. "This is more my speed." Going to the bed, she reverently touched the patchwork quilt. "Beautiful. Did you buy it in one of the Amish shops?"

  He could remember his mother quilting after their dad left, every night, most of the time when she wasn't working. "No. Mom sewed it. Shannon has one almost like it."

  Beth scooped up the edge to get a closer look. "Your mother must've been a patient woman. I can't imagine putting that much time into handwork. The stitches are so tiny."

  "I wanted to use it in my room, but I have a kingsize bed." He put Beth's suitcase across the arms of a green velvet chair. "You can use the bathroom next door. I have one adjoining my room."

  She looked nervous, as if she didn't know what came next. When she moistened her bottom lip, his stomach did a jig. He moved quickly toward the door. "Why don't you get ready for bed? I'll stop in before I turn in to see if you have everything you need."

  Nash left the room before he was tempted not to. Being a gentleman had its drawbacks. He took his time undressing. He slept in the nude in the summer, but in deference to Beth's presence, he pulled on a pair of black flannel jogging shorts. To give her plenty of time, he used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and pulled down the covers on his bed.

  When he stopped at Beth's room, her door was closed. He knocked lightly. She opened it and his breath whooshed from his lungs. A sexy angel. Hair loose and fluffy as if it had just been brushed. Just-washed pink cheeks. A pale blue satiny robe covering a nightgown of the same color. A tiny bow held it closed. One tug... In a few minutes his shorts wouldn't disguise the passion he was feeling.

  The pulse at her throat was thumping rapidly as she asked, "Do you have any hangers? There aren't any in the closet."

  "Hangers?" It took him a second to realize what she was asking. "Yeah. Sure. I'll check the dresser."

  He slipped by her into the room, his bare chest brushing her arm. He watched her eyes turn coffee-black and he swallowed hard. Stopping at the dresser, he felt her eyes on his shoulders, down his spine. He removed a handful of hangers from the bottom drawer and laid them on top of the cherry dresser. Then he turned around. She was standing by the bed, her eyes giving off conflicting messages of fear, desire, and need.

  His heart leaped in his chest. "I've wanted to kiss you all night, Beth. If I don't do it soon--"

  "Do it," she whispered.

  Her neck was long, creamy, the perfect territory for his lips. He nuzzled her collarbone with his nose as his hands threaded in her hair. She was trembling, and when his lips caressed the sensitive skin behind her ear, she murmured his name.

  "What, baby?"

  Her fingers clutched his shoulders and she pushed back. "Kiss me."

  She rose on tiptoe so her lips could meet his. He had no chance to think when the tip of her tongue slipped along his lower lip. Desire stampeded through his blood as he opened his mouth over hers and probed everywhere he could reach.

  He felt her knees buckling and he backed her onto the bed, coming down on top of her. The first kiss led to another and another, her mouth and tongue as greedy as his. Kissing wasn't nearly enough. Over the satin his hand slid from her knee up her thigh. Tugging open the bow with his teeth, he rubbed his chin between her breasts and tasted skin as sweet as ambrosia.

  Her presence in his life created background music that made everything more alive, louder, brighter. She was sunshine and blue sky and he wanted her for himself. He needed her more than he'd ever needed anyone. He wanted to make love to her until all her barriers dropped and there was no more fear in her eyes. He could kill the bastard who'd put it there. Whatever her secret was, it was keeping her tense, keeping her from being unselfconscious in his presence. Until now. This was the real Beth--the passionate woman who gave without reserve.

  When he palmed her breast, she arched into him and moaned. Her hands were climbing his shoulders, his arms. They sought to learn more. She found the long muscles of his back and stroked. He sucked in his breath. Insinuating his knee between her legs, he tugged up her gown. She stretched toward him as her hand roamed over his buttocks and began a trail toward his groin.

  Her tactile exploration was driving him crazy. His arousal was so demanding that he feared much more of her taste and touch would lead him too far. He gripped his control and prayed his mind could win out over his body. If it had to.

  "Beth. Baby. Do you want this as much as I do?"

  CHAPTER SIX

  Beth had been drowning in the erotic texture of Nash's muscles, the burning of his lips on her skin, the wild desire she'd never experienced before. His rumbling baritone slid over her. Yes, this was what she wanted. She had to surface to tell him. If she opened her eyes, she wouldn't need words because he could see...

  "Beth. Tell me this is what you want."

  She opened her eyes slowly. His breathing was fast and hard, there were beads of perspiration on his forehead, and she suddenly realized where her hand had been headed. She froze.

  He muttered, "I thought so," and levered himself away from her, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

  Red hot embarrassment kept Beth immobilized. After a few minutes, she found her voice and her nerve. "Nash, I'm sorry. I didn't realize what was happening."

  He stretched on his side, propped his chin in his palm, and arched his brows. "It seems to me you w
ere an equal participant."

  "I was." She felt as if she was about to put her head in the lion's mouth, but he deserved the truth. "I wanted to be. But when you kiss me, I lose all perspective and the world spins and--"

  His smile began in his eyes and spread to his mouth. "I know what you mean."

  Beth adjusted her nightgown and pulled the robe across her breasts. Sitting up, she tied the bow with careful deliberation.

  "That's as practical as slippers in a snowstorm."

  She remembered how he'd opened it, his mouth on her breast. Her heart fluttered. "It's meant to be dainty, not practical."

  Nash came to a sitting position next to her and lifted her chin with his forefinger. "I want to make love to you."

  Her mouth went dry and her voice cracked. "I know."

  His thumb skimmed her chin. "You want it, too, but you're scared and you won't tell me why."

  "I'm not sure I'm ready to let a man into my life right now."

  He dropped his hand. "You've been hurt?"

  In many ways. Not just by John's selfish manipulation, but by all the people, many of them who professed to be friends, who hadn't believed her. She nodded.

  "You can trust me."

  She felt the tenderness emanating from him and the gentleness. "I want to." To risk trusting him...so soon...

  "But I have to earn it."

  Maybe he did. Maybe he had to prove to her he was different, that her feelings mattered, that he'd never selfishly turn on her for his own benefit. "Give me some time, Nash."

  He played with a curl on her shoulder, sending delicious shivers up her neck. "We're adults, Beth. I don't want to play games."

  "No games." She just needed more time to absorb what Nash's presence could mean in her life.

  Beth became self conscious as her breasts peaked under the satin nightgown. Looking at Nash, smelling him, sitting this close with knees touching, rattled her. She knew she should hold back, wait, use common sense rather than giving in to her desire or her growing feelings for Nash. But the other part of her wanted to play in his chest hair, see him naked, feel him hard and strong inside her.

  His finger trailed over the shell of her ear, down her neck, back up to the point of her chin. He brushed the rough pad of his thumb slowly over her lips. She couldn't control her quiver of response.

  "I want to kiss you again. Just kiss you."

  He was assuring her she didn't have to be afraid, that he wouldn't do anything she didn't choose. "I want you to kiss me."

  She braced her hands on his chest when his head lowered, as if she could anchor herself for the storm about to break. His arms enfolded her. She slid her hands up to his shoulders and waited.

  He didn't kiss her right away but pecked at the corner of her upper lip, the lower, rubbed and coaxed and caressed. With tiny flicks of his tongue, he slowly tasted. The kiss began slowly and sweetly but intensified until Beth's fingers tangled in Nash's hair. When she pressed closer, his tongue stabbed hers, swept to the roof of her mouth, fluttered, then slowly pulled back.

  Dragging his lips from hers, he dropped his arms and so did she. "We're going to go up in flames if I don't get out of here," he said in a raspy voice. He rolled off the bed and walked to the door.

  If he stayed much longer, she wouldn't want him to leave. As it was, she felt like a jumble of mismatched pieces. She followed him.

  Nash nodded to the doorknob. "Like I said, it locks."

  She curled her fingers around the edge of the door to give her support, to keep her on the right side of the threshold. "Thank you for everything you did today. The painting, the invitation to Shannon's, offering me a place to sleep."

  He tipped an invisible cap. "Just call White Charger Limited. Always at your service." With a grin and a wink he added, "I'll collect for the paint job another time." He gently stroked her cheek. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

  As he walked down the hall, Beth closed her door. She didn't lock it. Maybe trusting again wasn't so difficult after all.

  ****

  Beth had tried to sleep, but the sandman hadn't obliged. When she sat on the edge of the bed in the morning, she stared at the tangled sheets in dismay. Unbidden, flashes of Nash's bare chest and powerful legs, his moist lips, created vivid images and erotic feelings. Had Nash fared any better? Or did he possess the ability to carefully divide his life into sections, not letting one interfere with the other? Was out of sight out of mind?

  She had known that type of relationship. Her first serious one. It had ended right before she met John. But John had been sympathetic, affirming, assuring her that all men weren't selfish and she'd find the right one eventually. Hah! John had only reinforced her doubts. He had come first--what he needed, what he wanted, what was easy for him, and to hell with her life.

  Nash seemed different. So honest. She'd grown up with honesty. It was her nature. She needed it in her life from the people she cared about most. An elusive hand seemed to tap her on the shoulder. This time you're going to make sure. It was about time her guardian angel did her job. This time Beth would set impulse aside and listen.

  She dressed in an orange and white striped terry romper and went to look for Nash. He was nowhere to be found. When she entered the kitchen, she saw a note on the refrigerator. "Went jogging. Be back soon. Nash."

  There were no crumbs on the off-white counter, no coffee perking, no pans on the coppertone stove. Beth doubted if he'd made breakfast. Snooping in the refrigerator, she found bacon and eggs. After searching in the knotty pine cabinets, she also located pancake mix.

  She was frying the last of the bacon when she heard the sliding glass doors in the dining room open. Nash appeared in the kitchen and her heart jumped to her throat. He looked rugged, sweaty, male, hot...and delicious.

  He flipped off his sweatband and grinned. "Smells good. I'll get a shower and be right back. If you wait to start the pancakes, I'll help."

  Did he actually believe in doing his share? It would be so easy to fall head over heels in love with this man. Guardian angel, where are you? She responded to him quickly. "I can manage. Take your time."

  ****

  Nash didn't waste any time as he showered and dressed. Beth in his kitchen drew him and filled him with...contentment. Unlike many bachelors, he kept his larder filled because he cooked often. But seeing Beth at the stove, the table set, the scene welcoming, stirred lost hopes and repressed yearnings.

  When he returned to the kitchen, food was on the table and Beth was pouring the last of the batter onto the griddle. "You can start before everything gets cold."

  He walked up behind her. "I'll wait." He watched her flip a pancake.

  "You're making me nervous."

  He longed to brush her hair aside and kiss her neck, but he didn't feel that freedom or know how she'd react. She might be trying to forget last night ever happened.

  "Can't have that," he replied as he crossed to the table, picked up a piece of bacon, and popped it into his mouth. "Terrific. Almost as good as when I make it."

  Beth brought the pancakes to the table. "Your modesty's showing."

  Her quip relaxed him. "Your eggs look better. Mine stay wet. Jason won't eat them."

  The pancake turner stopped in midair. "You cook when they stay?"

  "Even McDonald's gets old." The small talk was driving him nuts. He stepped closer to her. "About last night..." Subtle, Winchester. Real subtle.

  Beth looked as if she expected bad news. "What about it?"

  "I was afraid you wouldn't be here when I got back this morning."

  "Why?"

  Was that relief in her eyes? Had she entertained the same doubts? "You usually run away when I try to get close."

  "I don't run--"

  "Back off?"

  She thought about it, then said softly, "I'm not backing off now."

  He felt as if he'd swallowed a jigger of whiskey that went straight to his head. "No, you're not." He circled her waist and gave her a slow, laz
y kiss. When he lifted his head, the look in her eyes made him smile. It said she still couldn't believe what happened when their lips met. "I know you want to get your living room in order today, but there's an outdoor concert at the park tomorrow night. Would you like to go?"

  She didn't hesitate. "That sounds like fun."

  He was trying to decide whether or not to kiss her again when the phone rang. He dropped his arms and went to the wall by the refrigerator.

  "Winchester here."

  "Nash, it's Jack Reynolds. I've collected the information you asked for. Sorry it took so long."

  Nash's eyes went to Beth as she sat at the table. "No problem." He felt a pang of guilt. At this point, if he asked Beth to see pictures of past work, she'd probably show him.

  "I wanted to tell you I found more than an outline of her portfolio. I enclosed copies of newspaper clippings concerning Katherine Elizabeth Terrell."

  "I don't understand."

  "You will when you get the file. Do you want me to go over it now?"

  Nash's curiosity was piqued, but he was more interested in learning about Beth from Beth than from Jack. "No. I'll wait."

  "I'll send it tomorrow morning by Purolator. You should get it tomorrow afternoon."

  "Thanks, Jack."

  "No sweat. Let me know if you need anything else. See ya."

  Unable to think of Beth as a Katherine, Nash wondered why she now used her middle name.

  "Business?" she asked as she forked eggs onto her plate.

  "Yeah."

  "Anything wrong?"

  "No. Why?"

  "You look preoccupied."

  His gaze locked to hers. "The phone call's forgotten. Now I'm preoccupied with you."