Authors: Lisa Jackson
Beach Season (48 page)
Slowly he bent and pressed his moist lips against the base of her throat.
In response, she warmed deep within, stretching her arms around him, holding him tight, drinking in the smell and feel of him.
“Shawna,” he whispered.
“Oh, Parker, love,” she murmured.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t ever stop,” she cried.
He shuddered, as if trying to restrain himself, then, in one glorious minute, he crushed his lips to hers and kissed her more passionately than ever before. His hands caressed her skin, tearing at her blouse and the clasp of her bra, baring her breasts to the shifting moonlight. Slowly he lowered his head and touched each proud nipple with his lips, teasing the dark peaks to impatient attention.
“Ooh,” she whispered, caught up in the warm, rolling sensations of his lips and tongue as he touched her, stoking fires that scorched as they raced through her blood and burned wantonly in her brain.
Reckless desire chased all rational thought away.
Her breath tangled with his and his hands touched her, sweeping off her skirt until she was naked in the night. Her skin was as white as alabaster in the darkness. Despite the cool river-kissed wind, she was warm deep inside, as she throbbed with need for this one special man.
His moist lips moved over her, caressing her, arousing her, stealing over her skin and causing her mind to scream with the want of him.
She found the hem of his sweater and pushed the offending garment over his head. He groaned in response and she unsnapped his jeans, her fingers sliding down the length of his legs as she removed the faded denim until, at last, they lay naked in the tiny gazebo—his body gleaming with a dewy coat of sweat, hers rosy with the blush of desire.
“I will always love you,” she promised as he lowered himself over her, twisting his fingers in her hair, his eyes blue, lusting flames.
“And I’ll always love you,” he vowed into her open mouth as his hands closed over her breasts, gently kneading the soft, proud nipples, still wet from his kiss.
Her fingers moved slowly down his back, touching firm, smooth muscles and the gentle cleft of his spine.
Though her eyes wanted to close, she willed them open, staring up at him, watching the bittersweet torment on his face as he delved inside, burying himself in her only to withdraw again and again. Her heart slamming wildly, her blood running molten hot, she arched upward, moved by a primitive force and whispering words of love.
Caught in her own storm of emotion and the powerful force of his love, she lost herself to him, surrendering to the vibrant spinning world that was theirs alone. She felt the splendor of his hands, heard him cry out her name.
In one glorious moment he stiffened, his voice reverberating through the gazebo and out across the river, and Shawna, too, convulsed against his sweat-glistened body.
His breath was rapid and hot in her ear. “This ... could be dangerous,” he whispered hoarsely, running a shaking hand through his hair.
Still wrapped in the wonder and glow of passion, she held him close, pressed her lips to his sweat-soaked chest. “Don’t talk. For just tonight, let’s pretend that it’s only you and me, and our love.”
“I’m not much good at pretending.” Glancing down at her plump breasts, he sighed, then reached past her to a glass on the bench. Swirling wine in the goblet, he said, “I don’t think we should let this happen again.”
“I don’t think we have a choice.”
“Oh, Shawna,” he whispered, drinking his wine and setting the empty glass on the floor before he reached behind her, to wrap the coat over her suddenly chilled shoulders before holding her close. “This isn’t a question of love,” he said.
Crushed, she couldn’t answer.
“I just think we both need time.”
“Because of Melinda’s baby.”
“The baby has something to do with it,” he admitted, propping himself against the bench. He drew her draped body next to his and whispered against her neck. “But there’s more. I don’t want to tie you down.”
“But you’re not—”
“Shh. Just listen. I’m not the man you were in love with before the accident. Too much has changed for us to be so naive to think that everything will be just as we’d planned, which, for the record, I still can’t remember.”
“You will,” she said, though she felt a gaping hole in her heart.
Parker slid from behind her and reached for his clothes. He’d never intended to make love to her, to admit that he loved her, for crying out loud, but there it was—the plain, simple truth: He loved her and he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
“I think I’ll go for a drive,” he said, yanking his sweater over his head and sliding with difficulty into his jeans.
“Now?”
“I need time to think, Shawna. We both do,” he said abruptly. Seeing the wounded look in her eyes he touched her cheek. “You know I care about you,” he admitted, stroking her hair. “But I need a little space, just to work things out. I don’t want either of us to make a mistake we’ll regret later.”
“Maybe we already have,” she said, clutching her coat over her full breasts. She lifted her chin bravely, though deep inside, she was wounded to the core. Just minutes before he was loving her, now he was walking away!
“Maybe,” he groaned, then straightened and hobbled to the door.
Shawna watched him amble up the path and shuddered when she heard the garage door slam behind him. He was gone. It was that simple. Right after making love to her for the first time, he’d walked away. The pain in her heart throbbed horribly, though she tried to believe that his words of love, sworn in the throes of passion, were the only real truth.
Brittle night wind raced through the car as Parker drove, his foot on the throttle, the windows rolled down. He pushed the speed limit, needing the cold night air to cool the passion deep in his soul. He was rocked to his very core by the depth of his feelings for Shawna. Never would he have believed himself capable of such all-consuming physical and mental torture. He wanted her—forever. He’d been on the verge of asking her to marry him back in the gazebo and damning the consequences.
“You’re a fool,” he chastised, shifting down, the car squealing around a curve in the road. Lights in the opposite lane dazzled and blinded him, bore down on him. “A damned fool.”
The car in the oncoming lane passed, and memories crashed through the walls of his blocked mind. One by one they streamed into his consciousness. He remembered Brad, passed out and unconscious, and Melinda crying softly, clinging to Parker’s shoulder. And Shawna—Lord, he remembered her, but not as he saw her now. Yes, he’d loved her because she was a beautiful, intelligent woman, but in the past, he hadn’t felt this overpowering awe and voracious need that now consumed him.
He strained to remember everything, but couldn’t. “Give it time,” he said impatiently, but his fingers tightened over the wheel and he felt a desperate desire to know everything.
“Come on, come on,” he urged, then realized that he was speeding, as if running from the black hole that was his past.
With difficulty, he eased up on the throttle and drove more cautiously, his hot blood finally cooled. Making love to Shawna had been a mistake, he decided, though a smile of satisfaction still hovered over his lips at the thought of her ivory-white body stretched sensually in the gazebo, her green eyes luminous with desire.
“Forget it,” he muttered, palms suddenly damp. Until he remembered everything and knew she loved the man he was today, not the person she’d planned to marry before the accident, he couldn’t risk making love to her again.
And that, he thought, his lips twisting wryly, was a crying shame.
C
HAPTER
10
HAPTER
10
“He’s pushing too hard,” Bob Killingsworth, Parker’s physical therapist, admitted to Shawna one afternoon. She had taken the day off and had intended to spend it with Parker, but he was still in his indoor pool, swimming, using the strength of his arms to pull himself through the water. Though one muscular leg kicked easily, the other, the knee that had been crushed, was stiff and inflexible and dragged noticeably.
“That’s it!” Bob called, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting at Parker.
Parker stood in the shallow end and rubbed the water from his face. “Just a couple more laps.”
Glancing at his watch, Bob frowned. “I’ve got to get to the hospital—”
“I don’t need a keeper,” Parker reminded him.
“It’s all right,” Shawna whispered, “I’ll stay with him.”
“Are you sure?”
“I
am
a doctor.”
am
a doctor.”
“I know, but—” Bob shrugged his big shoulders. “Whatever you say.”
As Bob left, Shawna kicked off her shoes.
“Joining me?” Parker mocked.
“I just might.” The tension between them crackled. Since he’d left her the night they had made love, they had barely spoken. With an impish grin, she slid quickly out of her panty hose and sat on the edge of the pool near the diving board, her legs dangling into the water.
“That looks dangerous, Doctor,” Parker predicted from the shallow end.
“I doubt it.”
“Oh?” Smothering a devilish grin, Parker swam rapidly toward her, his muscular body knifing through the water. She watched with pride. In two weeks, he’d made incredible strides, physically if not mentally.
He’d always been an athlete and his muscles were strident and powerful. His shoulders were wide, his chest broad and corded. His abdomen was flat as it disappeared inside his swimming trunks to emerge again in the form of lean hips and strong legs—well, at least one strong leg. His right knee was still ablaze with angry red scars.
As he reached the deep end of the pool, he surfaced and his incredible blue eyes danced mischievously. He tossed his hair from his face and water sprayed on her blouse.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked, grinning.
“I thought you were coming in.”
“And I thought I’d change first.”
“Did you?” One side of his mouth lifted into a crafty grin.
“Oh, Parker, no—” she said, just as she felt strong hands wrap over her ankles. “You wouldn’t—”
But he did. Over her protests, he gently started swimming backward, pulling her off her bottom and into the pool, wool skirt, silk blouse, and all.
“You’re despicable!” she sputtered, surfacing, her hair drenched.
“Probably.”
“And cruel and ... and heartless ... and—”
“Adorable,” he cut in, laughing so loudly the rich sound echoed on the rafters over the pool. His hands had moved upward over her legs to rest at her hips as she hung by the tips of her fingers at the edge of the pool.
“That, too,” she admitted, lost in his eyes as he studied her. Heart pounding erratically, she could barely breathe as his head lowered and his lips brushed erotically over hers.
“So are you.” One strong arm gripped her tighter, so fierce and possessive that her breath was trapped somewhere between her throat and lungs, while he clung to the side of the pool with his free hand. “Oh, so are you.”
Knowing she was playing with proverbial fire, she warned herself to leave, but she was too caught up in the wonder of being held by him, the feel of his wet body pressed against hers, to consider why his feelings had changed. She didn’t care that her clothes were ruined. She’d waited too long for this glorious moment—to have him hold her and want her again.
His tongue rimmed her mouth before parting her lips insistently. Moaning her surrender she felt his mouth crush against hers, his tongue touch and glide with hers, delving delicately, then flicking away as she ached for more. Her blood raced uncontrollably, and her heart hammered crazily against her ribs.
She didn’t know why he had chosen this moment to love her again. She could only hope that he’d somehow experienced a breakthrough with his memory and could remember everything—especially how much they had loved each other.
His warm lips slid lower on her neck to the base of her throat and the white skin exposed between the lapels of her soggy blouse. The wet silk clung to her, and her nipples, proudly erect, were visible beneath the thin layer of silk and lace, sweetly enticing just above the lapping water.
Lazily, as if he had all the time in the world, his tongue touched her breast, hot as it pressed against her skin. She cried out, couldn’t help herself, as he slowly placed his mouth against her, nuzzling her, sending white-hot rivulets of desire through her veins.
She could only cling to him, holding his head against her breast, feeling the warmth within her start to glow and a dull ache begin to throb deep at her center.
She didn’t resist as with one hand he undid the buttons of her blouse, baring her shoulders, and letting the sodden piece of silk drift downward into the clear depths of the pool. Her bra, a flimsy scrap of lace, followed.
She was bare from the waist up, her breasts straining and full beneath his gaze as clear water lapped against her white skin.
“You are so beautiful,” he groaned, as if her beauty were a curse. He gently reached forward, softly stroking her skin, watching in fascination as her nipple tightened, his eyes devouring every naked inch of her skin. “This is crazy, absolutely crazy,” he whispered. Then, almost angrily, he lifted her up and took one bare nipple into his mouth, feasting hungrily on the soft white globe, his hand against her back, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin.
“Love me,” she cried, aching to be filled with his spirit and soul. Her hands tangled in the hair of his chest and her eyes glazed as she whispered, “Please, Parker, make love to me.”
“Right here?” he asked, lifting his head, short of breath.
“I don’t care ... anywhere.”
His lips found hers again and as he kissed her, feeling her warm body in the cool water, a jagged piece of memory pricked his mind. Hadn’t there been another time, another place, when Shawna—or had it been another woman—had pleaded with him to make love to her?
The sun had been hot and heat shimmered in vibrant waves over the river. They were lying in a canoe, the boat rocking quietly as he’d kissed her, his heart pounding in his ears, her suntanned body molded against his. She’d whispered his name, her voice rough with longing, then ...
Just as suddenly as the memory had appeared, it slipped away again.
“Parker?”
He blinked, finding himself in the pool with Shawna, her green eyes fixed on his, her white skin turning blue in the suddenly cold water.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, frustrated all over again. If only he could remember! If only he could fill the holes in his life! He released her and swam to the edge of the pool. “I think maybe you’d better get dressed,” he decided, hoisting his wet body out of the water and reaching for a towel. “I—I’m sorry about your clothes.”
“No—”
But he was already limping toward the door.
Dumbfounded, she dived for her blouse and bra, struggled into them, and surfaced at the shallow end. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she said, breathing rapidly, her pride shattered as she climbed, dripping out of the pool. “What was
that?
” Gesturing angrily, she encompassed the entire high-ceilinged room to include the intimacy they’d just shared.
that?
” Gesturing angrily, she encompassed the entire high-ceilinged room to include the intimacy they’d just shared.
“A mistake,” he said, wincing a little. Snatching his cane from a towel rack, he turned to the door.
“Mistake?” she yelled. “Mistake?” Boiling, her female ego trampled upon one too many times, she caught up to him and placed herself, with her skirt and blouse still dripping huge puddles on the concrete, squarely in his path. “Just like the other night was a mistake?”
His gaze softened. “I told you—we need time.”
But she wasn’t listening. “I know what you’re doing,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re trying to shame me into leaving!”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it? Then explain what that scene in the pool was all about! We nearly made love, for crying out loud, and now you’re walking out of here as if nothing happened. Just like the other night! That’s it, isn’t it? You’re trying to mortify me!” All her pent-up emotions exploded, and without thinking she slapped him, her palm smacking as it connected with his jaw. The sound reverberated through the room.
“Thank you, Dr. McGuire,” he muttered, his temper erupting. “Once again your bedside manner is at its finest!” Without another word he strode past her, limping slightly as he yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind him.
Shawna slumped against the brick wall. She felt as miserable and bedraggled as she looked in her wet clothes. Stung by his bitterness and the cruelty she’d seen in his gaze, she closed her eyes, feeling the cold of the bricks permeate her damp clothes. Had he set her up on purpose? Her head fell to her hands. Had he planned to make love to her only to throw her aside, in order to wound her and get her out of his life? “Bastard!” she cursed, flinging her wet hair over her shoulder.
Maybe she should leave. Maybe there was no chance of ever recovering what they had lost. Maybe, just maybe, their love affair was truly over. Sick at heart, she sank down against the wall and huddled in a puddle of water near the door.
Then her fists clenched tightly and she took a long, steadying breath. She wouldn’t give up—not yet, because she believed in their love. She just had to get him to see things her way!
Parker slammed his bedroom door and uttered a quick oath. What had he been thinking about back there in the pool? Why had he let her get to him that way? He yanked off his wet swim trunks and threw them into a corner.
Muttering to himself, he started to struggle into a pair of old jeans when the door to his room swung open and Shawna, managing to hold her head high though her clothes were wet and dripping and her hair hung lankily around her face, said, “You’ve got company.”
“I don’t want—”
“Too late. She’s here.”
“She?” he repeated, seeing the pain in her eyes.
“Melinda. She’s waiting in the den.”
Parker zipped up his jeans, aware of her gaze following his movements. He didn’t care, he told himself, didn’t give one damn what she thought. Grabbing a T-shirt and yanking it over his head, he frowned and made a sound of disgust. “What’s she doing here?” he finally asked, holding onto the rails of the bed as he hobbled toward the door.
“Your guess is as good as mine, but I don’t think I’ll stick around to find out. You know the old saying, three’s a crowd.”
He watched as she marched stiffly upstairs. He could hear her slamming drawers and he cringed as he made his way to the den.
Melinda was there all right. Standing next to the windows, she straightened as he entered. “So Shawna’s still here,” she said without any trace of inflection.
“So far.”
“And she’s staying?” Melinda asked, not meeting his eyes.
“That remains to be seen.” He flinched as he heard Shawna stomping overhead. A light fixture rattled in the ceiling. Cocking his head toward an old rocker, he said, “Have a seat.”
“No. I’m not staying long. I just came to find out what you intend to do—about the baby, I mean. You do remember, don’t you? About the baby?”
Sighing wearily, he stretched his bad leg in front of him and half fell onto the raised hearth of the fireplace. The stones were cold and dusty with ash, but he couldn’t have cared less. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Her chin quivered a little and she chewed on her lower lip. “I suppose you want me to have an abortion.”
His skin paled and he felt as if she’d just kicked him in the stomach. “No way. There are lots of alternatives. Abortion isn’t one.”
She closed her eyes. “Good,” she whispered, obviously relieved as she wrapped her arms around herself. “So what about us?”
“Us?”
“Yes—you and me.”
He heard Shawna stomp down the stairs and slam the front door shut behind her. Glancing out the window, he saw her, head bent against the wind as she ran to her car. Suddenly he felt as cold as the foggy day.
“Parker?”
He’d almost forgotten Melinda and he glanced up swiftly. She stared at him with wounded eyes and it was hard for him to believe she was lying—yet he couldn’t remember ever loving her.
“We have a baby on the way.” Swallowing hard, she fought tears that began to drizzle down her face and lowered her head, her black hair glossy as it fell over her face. “You still don’t believe me,” she accused, her voice breaking.
“I don’t know what to believe,” he admitted. Leaning his head back against the stones, he strained for images of that night. His head began to throb with the effort. Dark pieces emerged. He remembered seeing her that rainy night, thought she’d held him and cried into the crook of his neck. Had he stroked her hair, comforted her? God, if he could only remember!
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