Forever My Love Page 9

  He turned to stare at her. Even in the darkness she was certain she could see a glitter in his eyes. She had hit upon the truth. “Kathy—”

  “I’m right and I know it!” she said stubbornly.

  “Kathy! I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know just how good these people are. I—”

  “My house is probably the safest place in Miami for you, Brent. Had you thought of that?”

  The moonlight was growing stronger, cutting through the shadows of the night. He inclined his head, watching her with a certain amusement. “Is it?”

  “Yes, it is. And don’t laugh at me. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Our house, remember? And if it’s so safe, why was I able to walk right into the bathroom?”

  “Because you know about that entrance. Because I hadn’t bothered with the alarm because I knew Sam was out there. No one gets past Sam.”

  “I did.”

  “Because I never managed to explain the terms of the divorce to him!” Kathy snapped. “Brent, that foolish dog loves you. But he’s wonderful otherwise. And the alarm system is connected directly to the police station. And we can even bring in a cop or a security guard or—”

  “Kathy, don’t you understand? You would be safest if you were far away,” he said with exasperation.

  She was silent for a moment. “No. I can’t go away. Don’t you understand?”

  They both felt the rocking of the boat, the gentle movement of the waves, the coolness of the night breeze. He stared at her then sank onto the bench, sighing. “Kathy, I wasn’t going to even bring the boat into her berth. I was going to ditch her somewhere close and—”

  “I know the perfect place!” Kathy said enthusiastically. “Mrs. Fenniman’s property.”

  “Whose?”

  “Mrs. Fenniman’s! She lives at the little curve in the arm of the peninsula. She’s ninetysomething years old, lives with a sweet young nurse and has the most overgrown acre of land I’ve ever seen. And you can run along the back of it and right up the side of our wall to the gate and be inside the house before anyone could possibly know you’d been outside it!”

  He watched her for a long moment, knowing she was absolutely right.

  Then suddenly the moon touched his eyes and Kathy saw that they were flashing with fury again. He stood and walked over to her and caught her shoulders and seemed to be fighting the temptation to shake her hard.

  “Why are you doing this?” he demanded harshly.

  She let her head fall back and met his gaze with an equal fury and challenge. “For old time’s sake,” she snapped.

  “Kathy—”

  “Because I don’t want to be forced out of my own house, all right? What difference does it make? You cannot force me to go anywhere, Brent!”

  “Don’t bet on it. I thought earlier that I should have tied you up and sent you north in a cargo box.”

  She wrenched back from his touch, taking a step away from him. “I’d never speak to you again.”

  “Well, you haven’t spoken to me in three years.”

  “I’ll have you nice and safe in jail on charges of physical harassment or whatever it is you call it!” she warned him.

  He laughed and before she knew it had caught her by the shoulders again, swung her around and set her on the bench by the tiller, then stood towering over her, locking her in place with a hand laid flat upon the fiberglass next to each shoulder.

  “This is my party you’ve crashed, Kathy. And things are going to be done my way.”

  “I beg your pardon! You crashed into my bathroom, remember?”

  “Our bathroom!”

  “Brent—”

  “It’s almost like you’re inviting me to play man and wife again. Is that what you’re doing, Kathy?”

  “Get off me, Brent. I’m trying to help you. For Shanna’s sake. For—”

  “For old time’s sake. Yes, I know.” He straightened suddenly and walked away from her. He stared at the water, then said, “All right. All right, you can stay, but we still play it my way. I make all the rules. Agreed?”

  “No, you do not—”

  “Kathy, trust me, I wouldn’t feel a bit guilty exercising a little physical harassment to get you to safety.”

  “What are these rules?” she demanded. Muttering beneath her breath, she added, “I don’t believe this! I’ve done my very best to be an extremely decent ex-wife, and here you are—”

  “Making rules. Right. That’s the way it goes. Agreed?”

  “I told you—let me hear the rules.”

  “Once we get to the house, you stay in it. You don’t even walk to the pool unless I’m with you, understand? You don’t bring in the mail. You don’t do anything.”

  “Brent—”

  “Anything at all. All right?”

  She clenched her teeth and nodded. “All right!”

  “And,” he added softly, “if you want to play house, Ms. O’Hara, we play house.”

  “What?” she said.

  “I’m not sleeping on any couches. Or in Shanna’s room or on the floor.”

  Warmth sizzled through her. She knew what he was saying. It was just that her tongue had gone very dry and she wasn’t at all sure of how she should respond.

  “I—I don’t mind couches or Shanna’s room,” she said softly.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I can’t live with you and not sleep with you. You’re not my wife, but you were for a very long time, and I discovered years ago that I didn’t seem to be able to manage any halfway situations with you. If you want me in the house, you get me in your bed. Understood?”

  She stared at him blankly and wondered if he had just given her exactly what she wanted. Or if he had frightened her beyond anything she had expected.

  What had she wanted? Flowers? Soft music? A careful seduction? Maybe she was pretending. And maybe she had wanted him to play the game, too. Perhaps there was no getting back together, ever, because the desire they shared blanketed the pain, but in the harsh light of day, it could never erase it.

  “Kathy!” His voice was curt, nearly brutal, and cold as ice.

  “I’m thinking!” she snapped.

  “You didn’t have to think so long last night,” he reminded her bluntly. “Last night you were just about as hot as—”

  “You bastard!” she gasped, leaping to her feet and staring at him furiously, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. They wouldn’t stay there. She took a step forward and slammed them against his naked chest. He caught her wrists and dragged her hard against him, his eyes sizzling as they bored into hers.

  “I’m just trying to keep this blunt and true and in perspective, Ms. O’Hara. I told you before I won’t play games. I wouldn’t pretend that what happened between us didn’t. And I won’t turn anything into a game, either. I won’t bed down on a couch then come wandering around in the middle of night pretending I’m looking for something I can’t find. You wanted me last night, I wanted you. I still want you. And if I’m going to sleep in that house, I’m damned well going to sleep with you.”

  She couldn’t stare at him much longer. Maybe he was right, maybe it should all be kept strictly on the surface. It would be foolish to pretend, even to herself, that she didn’t want him desperately. Even if it was just for this brief time.

  It had been his house, too. Technically, it still was. Maybe he couldn’t live in it and keep his distance. She knew Brent well; he wasn’t going to date her at this time in their lives.

  She wished he hadn’t been quite so blunt, but he meant to be. Blunt, crude, basic. He didn’t want her to expect more out of him.

  She wrenched from his hold. “All right.”

  He arched a brow. “You agree?”

  “I just said so.”

  He smiled slowly. She tossed her blond hair, turned and started for the steps.

  “Where are you going now?” he demanded harshly.

  She had reached the stairs. She swung ar
ound, angry. “You’ve got a bit of a ride to the shore. I’m going to bed. Alone. We haven’t reached the house yet!”

  She started down the steps, infuriated. She heard his soft laughter follow her, and it didn’t help one bit. She slammed her cabin door and flung herself on the bed, her heart racing. She waited tensely, wondering if he would come after her with some new ultimatum.

  But he didn’t. She heard the motor rev, felt the motion of the boat, and she knew they were under way. He hadn’t come near her.

  He didn’t need to, she reminded herself. He already had her exactly where he wanted her. All he had to do was bide his time.

  She hadn’t thought she would doze off, but she’d probably had less than four hours of sleep the night before and, to her amazement, once she closed her eyes, the rocking of the boat allowed the world to slip away.

  She was startled when she heard Brent’s voice awakening her. “Kathy! Kathy, we’re here.”

  She sat up and saw his silhouette in the doorway. She blinked, trying to leave the fog of sleep behind her. It was so dark. They hadn’t come into a marina.

  No, no, they weren’t supposed to be at a marina. They were on the shore of Mrs. Fenniman’s property. It had been her idea. Whatever had possessed her?

  Despite the moon, it was still very black out. And there was no nice clean beach here, just weeds and high grass and all kinds of trees and yucky underwater plants.

  “Come on!” Brent urged her. Even in the shadows, she felt his eyes wander over her. She was still dressed in the bikini—Shanna’s bikini—and nothing else. Well, it was appropriate for a swim.

  “Have you got your sneakers and the keys?”

  “Sneakers?”

  “Yeah, you never know what you might step on trying to get out of here.”

  “Oh, yeah, right!” she agreed miserably. She found her sneakers beneath the bunk and tied them on. Then she dug into her bag to find her keys and wallet. Brent reached for them and she stared at him blankly. “I’ve got pockets,” he told her curtly. “You’ve barely got room to breathe.”

  After handing him her things, she waltzed past him and hurried up on deck.

  There wasn’t a soul around, not for miles and miles. Brent had turned off all the lights and brought them in to hug the shore. The tide might ground them by morning, but that didn’t seem to matter much right now.

  “Ready?” he asked her.

  If only it had been a nice clean beach.

  “Sure,” she murmured. She didn’t want to dive into the water. They were close enough to the marina for the water to be filled with oil and garbage. They were far enough away for it to be filled with all kinds of creatures she didn’t mind at all by daylight—but hated in the darkness.

  “Let’s go.”

  She must have hesitated too long. He swept her up and tossed her over, then followed quickly.

  She was a good swimmer. She clenched her teeth and headed in, trying to ignore the muddy sand and slimy feel of the sea grasses. She stumbled for a foothold when she neared land. She almost slipped in the stuff but Brent was right behind her, taking her elbow. They walked to the hard earth together. Then he had her hand and was leading her silently through the sea brush, through the stands of mangroves and deep into the foliage of the yard.

  She could see Mrs. Fenniman’s old Spanish mansion up on a rise. They came to the row of pines at the base of the ledge and ran along them until they reached the back wall of their fence.

  “Don’t bark, Sam! Don’t bark!” Brent muttered.

  He paused just a second, then led her to the front of the property. He glanced quickly at Kathy as he looked at the alarm box.

  “I haven’t changed the code,” she muttered.

  He punched in the numbers, then opened the wrought-iron gate with her key. He shoved her inside and followed quickly, locking it behind him.

  Kathy nearly screamed as something cold touched her hand. She jumped a mile before she realized it was Sam.

  “Good dog!” Brent said, patting him affectionately. “Come on,” he told Kathy.

  They hurried up the path to the door, which Brent opened. Sam started to follow them in. “All right, just for a few minutes,” Brent told the dog. “We need you out there tonight, my friend.”

  Kathy sighed and leaned against the door for a moment, then moved away as Brent continued to pat Sam. “Where are you going?” he demanded sharply.

  “For a glass of wine. And then I’m going to take a bath. Every creepy thing in the sea seemed to have touched me.”

  “Wait a minute,” he told her curtly.

  She stood and watched him while he disappeared into her bedroom.

  Their bedroom.

  He came back a moment later. She stared at him curiously. “I was just checking the back door.”

  She smiled sweetly. “The riffraff has already come in that way.”

  He ignored her and picked up the phone. She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, then decided to be generous and pour him a glass, too.

  When she emerged from the kitchen, he seemed to be on hold. The receiver was between his head and his shoulder and he was busy loading a gun.

  “Where did that come from?”

  He glanced at her, arching a brow. “It’s a police gun, fires fifteen shots.”

  She shivered despite herself. There was a gun on the boat; he’d always kept a gun in the house. This was a new one, though.

  “Robert gave it to me a while back. I have a permit, and it’s nice and legal.” She was still staring at him. “Kathy, if someone comes in and tries to shoot us, I’m going to shoot back. Okay?”

  “You brought that off the boat?”

  “I brought it with me the other day, when I came in through the bathroom.”

  Just how long had he been in the house before she had seen him? she wondered. Not that it mattered anymore. She set down his glass of wine.

  He cast her a quick glance. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  “Robert? Yeah, it’s Brent,” he said suddenly into the phone. He had called Robert; he was bringing the police in on the situation.

  She could hear Robert’s voice, demanding to know where he was, where he’d been. “Robert, hang on just a second,” he said as Kathy started to turn away. “You’re taking a bath?”

  She nodded, wondering if he thought she was giving him some kind of an invitation. She wasn’t—she felt dirty from swimming in dirty water.

  “Good,” he said bluntly. “Burn that suit when you’re done, will you?”

  She arched a brow in surprise, but he had already turned his attention to the phone conversation. She walked into the bathroom with her wine, turned on the water in the tub, poured in an ample amount of bubbles, then lowered herself into it.

  The heat was delicious. The clean water was delicious. She sank beneath the water, soaked her hair and scrubbed it assiduously. She leaned back, content, and took a long swallow of wine.

  Was this an invitation?

  It hadn’t been that long ago when she had lain here dreaming of the past. Then the past had intruded upon the present. She had thought about Brent crawling into the tub with her. And he had stumbled into it, jeans and all. Not exactly what she’d had in mind.

  None of this was what she’d had in mind.…

  Would he come in now? she wondered. Come in now as she had dreamed, stride in, peel away the cutoffs, sink down with her. Touch her in the midst of the bubbles, do the things to her he’d done the night before…

  Her eyes closed. He would come, he was the one who insisted he would. He would sweep her up as he had so often before, and lay her on the bed they had shared. Against the whiteness of the cool, clean cotton sheets. His body would look so bronze.

  It would be like playing house all over again. Playing man and wife as Brent had said.

  They could never go back. But that was all right. She only wanted these few nights.…

  Brent came in, talking. “I�
��ll see Robert tomorrow,” he said. “They’ll have a man watching the house tonight. They had a patrol car going around when we came in, but apparently the man didn’t see us. I don’t know if that means we’re very good, or he isn’t quite so good. But between the alarm and the dog and the cop, I guess we should be in pretty good shape.”

  She didn’t respond. Her head was on the rim of the tub, her eyes were closed, her dark honey lashes sweeping her cheeks. He smiled suddenly, realizing she was sound asleep.

  “You can drown yourself that way,” he whispered softly. He pulled a towel from the rack and bent to lift her. Her eyes flew open with alarm.

  “It’s all right, don’t be frightened. It’s just me. You were sleeping.”

  Her eyes fluttered, and her arms wound around his neck. He thought she had fallen asleep again already when she whispered softly, “Just you, don’t be frightened!” she said. “I should be absolutely terrified.”

  “Why is that?”

  She shook her head. Her eyes closed.

  He carried her to the bedroom, pulled back the spread, then laid her on the sheets, still wrapped in the towel. He rolled her, freeing the towel from beneath her. She lay on her stomach. Her eyes opened and closed again.

  Her back was still damp. He moved the terry-cloth towel gently over her, then tossed it aside. He pressed his lips against her spine and felt her slight shift of movement. She tried to open her eyes but her lashes fell softly over them once again.

  He smiled, rose and brought the covers over her, then turned off the light as he left the room.

  In the living room he sat before the fireplace and drank his wine. Sam pushed his nose onto Brent’s lap and Brent idly patted the dog. “You don’t understand any of it, do you, boy? Neither do I,” Brent assured him.

  He leaned back. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have let her talk him into anything. He should have put her on a plane.

  But it was good to be here. With her.

  “She came back for me, Sam. I left her on a sailboat, heading away with friends, and she came back. What do you think of that? Actually, it was pretty humiliating. Here I am thinking I can still hear a pin drop in the dark, and she crawled right on that boat without my even realizing it. I’m slipping, Sam. Her fault. I was thinking about her. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her for a minute.”