Familiar Stranger (14 page)

"The yard is looking wonderful," she said. "I've got to run. The oven timer is about to go off."

"I may not get through in the back before they come. Is that all right?"

"Oh, sure. It won't matter if you're still mowing."

He sighed with relief. If he was still working in the back, he would have a very good excuse to absent himself from their presence.

By the time he had finished in the front and come in the back door for another drink, the food in different stages of preparation looked like something from a five-star restaurant. The elegance of the presentation was surpassed only by the aroma.

"Wow, Cara. I didn't know you could do stuff like this."

She gave him a harried smile and shrugged.

"You'd be surprised what a female can do in an emergency."

He shook his head without comment. This church bazaar had taken on the undertones of a life-and-death situation. Her emergencies were certainly different from the ones that he'd faced, but something told him that it would he easier to deal with an international terrorist than to face these twelve women.

"I made you some food," Cara said. "Although you are certainly welcome to sit and eat with us at noon."

"No," David said, and then countered the abruptness of his answer with a smile. "But thank you for inviting me."

She sighed. "I wouldn't want to eat with us, either. I can't believe I'd forgotten this."

David shoved aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

"I'll eat later, after I've finished mowing the back yard, okay?" Then he added, "And, if you're not finished with your meeting by that time, I'll be eating in the kitchen."

She laughed and tweaked his nose.

"Coward."

"Devout and proud of it," he said, and then turned at the sound of a car coming up the drive. "Looks like your first guest is already arriving."

Cara turned to the window and peered out. "Oh, Lord! It would be Hillary. She's the most critical of the lot."

He put his finger under the edge of her chin and lightly pushed up.

"Chin up, baby. Just remember that all the time they're looking at you and the house, you've got a man in your yard who likes to jump your bones."

Having said that, he gave her a devilish grin and winked, then walked out the back door just as the front doorbell began to ring.

David's words were still in her head as she rushed to the front door. Thankful that thoughts were not visible, she smoothed her hair and then straightened her blouse before opening the door.

"Hillary! You look gorgeous as always. Come in."

Hillary Redford sauntered into the house. Cara knew that Hillary was well aware her friends dreaded her arrival and she liked it that way. It gave her a sense of importance to think they valued her approval enough to be worried.

"How nice everything looks," she said, raking the gleaming wood and fresh flowers with quiet approval.

Cara resisted the urge to snort beneath her breath. Nice? It looked great and she knew it.

"Have a seat, will you? I need to take one more thing out of the oven and then I'll be right back."

Hillary sat, tentatively testing the cushions of the sofa and finding the one that suited her best. Within moments, Cara was back, and one by one, the other eleven women began to arrive. The noise level rose with each arrival until the front part of Cara's house was as noisy as a Saturday night at the local bar.

Cara flitted among them, serving dainty little appetizers and flutes of white wine, knowing that each time she left the room, they resumed their conversation, which was all about her.

As they nibbled and talked, Cara finished carrying the last of the food to the dining room where she'd set up a buffet on the sideboard. With one last glance to make sure she'd forgotten nothing important, she went to the living room to call them to eat.

"Ladies, the food is ready. Let's adjourn to the dining room where you can continue your discussion about my life and if somewhere in the midst of it someone should happen to remember we are planning a bazaar, then that would be wonderful."

There was a moment of embarrassed silence and then everyone laughed while Hillary felt the need to explain.

"Oh, Cara, you funny thing. We weren't really talking
about
you, just curious about the new man in your life. After all, you can't really blame us for that."

Cara smiled and then led the way into the dining room, comfortable with the fact that she'd taken the wind out of their sails by acknowledging the gossip and then ignoring it.

"Mm, everything smells wonderful," one of them said, while Hillary Redford silently applauded the elegance of the dishes she'd fixed.

"Thank you," Cara said. "Although they're really simple, they are some of my favorite recipes."

As they began to round the buffet and fill their plates, their chatter lessened. And for the first time, the sound of David mowing in the back yard could be heard. Hillary was the first to comment.

"I noticed your yard was freshly mowed when I came to the door," she said.

"Yes, but David's not quite through in the back."

"Who is David?" Hillary asked.

"Bethany's father," Cara said simply.

Twelve pairs of eyes turned instantly toward her. Twelve mouths dropped to an equal degree of shock.

"Oh, I've just got to have a look," Hillary said, and set her plate on the table without filling it and headed for the kitchen.

Eleven other women followed suit without waiting to see if Cara minded that they were trooping through the kitchen where she'd been preparing the food. She smiled to herself and followed, thankful that almost everything she'd been cooking with had been cleaned up and put away or was in the dishwasher waiting to be washed.

But when she got to the kitchen, she couldn't see outside. Every window in the room was lined with women who seemed too dumbstruck to move.

"That's him?" Hillary asked, and did something quite unlike herself and smeared the glass when she put her finger against the window to point.

Cara peeked over Hillary's shoulder.

"Yep, that's him."

"Have mercy," someone whispered. "He looks like that actor … oh, what's his name? He was in that movie
Sniper
and a whole bunch of others."

Someone offered the name Berenger.

"Yes! That's it! Berenger! He looks like Tom Berenger."

Then they all turned and stared at Cara as if they'd never seen her before—then turned again, their faces glued to the sight.

Cara crossed her arms as she watched them, resisting the urge to laugh. In spite of all her cleaning and cooking, a bare-chested man had been the hit of the day. And she couldn't blame them for gawking.

"Um, Cara?"

It was Susan Hanover, the banker's wife, who was standing near the door and waving her hand to be seen in all the shuffle.

"Yes?"

"Is he that, uh,
fit
all over?"

The eleven other women turned, all but salivating as they awaited the answer.

Cara smiled politely, as if they'd just asked for the recipe for her cake, although she knew her cooking was no match for David, naked or dressed. And the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt and that his shorts were riding low on his hips didn't hurt. That hard, flat belly and that beautiful face were hard to ignore.

"Yes."

"Oh … my … God," Susan moaned, and leaned against the wall as if pretending to faint.

The question broke the ice of curiosity. The questions began coming at her from right and left.

"What does he do? Where has he been? Is he going to stay? Are you going to marry him? Is he going to come inside?"

Cara just waved away the questions.

"Food's getting cold," she said, and went into the dining room.

One by one, courtesy demanded that they follow, but when they finally all sat down to eat, they were looking at Cara with new respect. And as they chewed their first bites, they were thinking of their respective husbands, most of them soft, overweight and going bald.

After a few minutes, they seemed to settle down and as they talked and ate, they actually settled on most of the planning committees that they'd come to put in place. It wasn't until Cara was serving cake that she heard the back door slam. David was obviously through mowing the yard.

Again, twelve women froze; in the act of putting cake in their mouths, they seemed to hold their breaths, hoping against all hope they would get a closer glimpse. David gave them way more than they bargained for.

Still bare-chested and carrying his T-shirt in his hands, he stuck his head into the room. Everywhere he was bare was glistening with sweat, and his thick, dark hair was spiky and damp.

"Cara, I'm through with the back yard. I'm going to shower before I eat." Then he gave the woman an all-encompassing smile. "I sure hope you pretty ladies saved something for me."

Having dropped the verbal bomb in their midst, he sauntered off, giving them an all-too-generous view of his tight buns and long legs.

Susan, the banker's wife, laid her fork on her cake plate and covered her face with her hands.

"Lord forgive me for my thoughts," she muttered.

They all burst into laughter, glad that she was the one who'd said what they'd all been thinking.

They lingered through coffee. Some even ate a second piece of cake just to prolong their presence in the house. When David finally emerged from the bedroom, he was dressed in slacks and loafers and a blue knit shirt.

"He looks good in clothes, too," Susan muttered, as he passed them by on his way to the kitchen.

David heard her and grinned. Well aware of the fuss that he'd caused, he didn't know whether to make himself scarce or go say hello.

Cara saved him the trouble of deciding by following him into the kitchen.

"We saved you a piece of cake," she said.

"Sure you want me in there?" he asked.

She sighed and then shrugged. "You'd have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to know that they're quite taken with you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It started when they saw you naked."

"Naked?"

"Honey, when a man has nothing on but a pair of shorts and wears them as well as you do, women can figure out the rest."

He grinned.

"So you may as well come in and finish them off."

His grin widened as he followed her into the other room.

"So, you did save me some cake after all," David said.

"Here! Sit here!" one of them said, and jumped up from her chair and gave him her seat.

"Oh, no, but thank you," he said. "A gentleman never sits in a room full of ladies. You sit yourself right back down. I'll eat my cake standing up. That way I can eat more."

Just the knowledge that the cake they'd been eating was now going into his stomach was all it took for twelve pairs of eyes to stare at his shirt, remembering the hard, washboard surface of his belly underneath.

"Have you finished?" David asked.

Twelve startled women looked at his face and then at their plates.

"With your meeting, I mean," David said.

Cara laughed. He was playing them like a fiddle.

"David Wilson, you are awful," she said. "Stop teasing them this minute, do you hear?"

He grinned and then leaned over and kissed her square on the mouth before taking another bite of the cake.

Twelve sighs of appreciation rose in accompaniment.

Cara smiled to herself.

Her luncheon had been a success.

Chapter 8

«
^
»

D
avid woke up before sunrise, savoring the quiet of the room and the warmth of the woman snuggled against him. It was Friday and his time with Cara was already almost gone. Bethany and her family would be home the day after tomorrow and he would be in D.C., and he still hadn't told Cara he was leaving. Truth was, he was scared to tell her. They'd fought horribly the last time he'd announced his exit from her life. He didn't want it to happen again

His thoughts scattered as Cara sighed and rolled onto her back. He watched her eyelids fluttering slightly and knew she was waking. Unable to wait, he leaned over and kissed her the rest of the way awake.

Cara stretched, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What a wonderful way to wake up," she said.

"Are you good and awake?"

She smiled. "I think so, why?"

"I don't want it to be said that I took advantage of an unconscious woman."

She laughed as he pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside, then rolled over on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with the weight of his body.

"Are you paying attention?" he growled.

Another laugh bubbled up her throat.

"Woman … I'm trying to be serious here."

Suddenly, the laughter was over. Cara had her legs locked around his waist and her arms around his neck.

"How serious?" she whispered.

"Oh, baby, let me show you the ways." Without foreplay.

Without sweet-nothing whispers.

Without warning.

Between one breath and the next, he was inside her.

Cara would look back on it later and realize that there was as much desperation in the act as there was love. But for now, she had no focus save the man above her and the hard, rhythmic pounding of his flesh against hers.

One minute spilled into the next and then the next and just when Cara thought she would die from the intensity, it shattered within her, splintering the power and flooding her body with a bone-melting ecstasy. She lay within his arms, her eyes closed, her heartbeat little more than a ricochet of its normal rhythm, while savoring the sensations from the act of perfect love.

She didn't know it wasn't over.

David paused, raising himself above her on tightly tensed arms, as if judging her expression. She groaned then sighed.

At that point, he seemed to shift gears.

She opened her eyes and looked up.

One slow, sensuous stroke after another, David started again, and all the while, he was watching her face. In her entire life, Cara had never felt so vulnerable or so loved.