Trouble In Triplicate (14 page)

"I don't want any coffee. I'm not hungry. I just want to go to bed," Miranda complained as Caine settled her in a kitchen chair. "Tell him, Julie."

Juliet had already put on the coffee. "I think Caine s right, Randi. Let me fix you a nice sandwich. How about your favorite—a BLT on toast?"

She opened the refrigerator and began to remove the necessary ingredients. Caine hovered over her shoulder and peered inside. "That's one well-stocked refrigerator you've got. You have everything in here."

She glanced at him, amused- "Would you like something to eat, too, Caine?"

"I am hungry." He smiled hopefully. "I haven't eaten since five this afternoon."

"You don't eat on the job? I wouldn't think that a man who owns a restaurant would ever be hungry."

"I try to grab a meal at the restaurant if we're not too busy, but tonight was a madhouse. As for my own cooking, it's pathetic. Roger, our chef, deserves full credit for The Knight Out's good culinary reputation."

"What would you like? A sandwich? An omelet? Pancakes? All of the above?"

"A stack of buttermilk pancakes sounds good. You even have the buttermilk. I'm impressed, Juliet."

She flashed a saucy grin. "Mother always taught us that the way to a man's heart is—"

"—through his stomach." Caine and Juliet chorused the rest of the old cliche in unison, then laughed together.

The sound of muffled weeping drew their attention to Miranda. She was leaning her elbows on the kitchen table, her face in her hands.

"Randi, what's wrong?" cried Juliet in alarm.

"You two remind me of how it was when I used to c-cook for Grant," Miranda sobbed. "Something I'll never do again!"

"Oh, Randi!" Juliet put her arm around her sister's shoulders and sighed. "Randi had a terrible night tonight," she added, looking up at Caine. "We all did. Your brother showed up at the Riving-tons' party with a sexy little blonde who couldn't keep her hands off him." Her voice hardened. "And then he proceeded to malign our cooking! And tell a roomful of potential customers that we overcharged!"

"Juliet," Caine said quietly, "I agree Grant shouldn't have knocked your business, but keep in mind that he's been badly hurt too."

"He's right," Miranda whispered. "I did hurt Grant badly, that night at the Apple Country Inn." She gazed "tearfully at Juliet. "I—I said some terrible things to him. I was furious with him for not making up with me the night that Sophia allegedly apologized. Instead, he scolded me and went out with another woman! I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him hurt as badly as I was hurting."

Caine frowned. "You succeeded, Miranda. He's hurting, all right. Terribly."

"Mmm, that explains the little blonde and the attacks on our business tonight," Juliet said thoughtfully. "Hell hath no fury like a macho man scorned."

"Behave, Juliet," Caine warned.

"He'll never forgive me, Julie!" Miranda wailed. "I struck him where he's most vulnerable. I'm ashamed of the things I said to him. Oh, what am I going to do?"

Frowning thoughtfully, Juliet began to mix the batter for Caine's pancakes. Suddenly she whirled around to face her sister. "Randi, I have a terrific idea. Tell Grant that it was me, or Liwy, at the Apple Country Inn that night. Tell him that one of us said whatever terrible things you said."

"Do you think it would work?" Miranda looked doubtful. "Grant knows who I am. He hasn't mixed me up with you or Liwy since our first few dates."

Caine had known her from her sisters before they'd ever had a date. The thought leaped to Juliet's mind and warmed her, but she forced herself to concentrate on Miranda's dilemma. "You can convince Grant that he actually did mix us up because he hasn't seen you alone for such a long time. I think it'll work, Randi. I think he'll want to believe that you didn't insult him."

Miranda brightened a bit. "-Maybe it will work. If Caine doesn't tell Grant," she added on a pleading note.

"Oh, don't worry about Caine," Juliet said confidently. "You won't say a word, will you, Caine?"

He gave both sisters a reproving stare. "I've made the way I feel about these convenient switches in identity quite clear, Juliet. And now you're asking me to deceive my own brother?"

"Isn't there a song entitled 'The End Justifies the Means'?" Juliet asked. "Originally recorded by the late, great Prince Machiavelli?"

"Don't think you can charm me into your little scheme by being cute, Juliet," Caine growled.

"If cute doesn't do it, I'll try sexy." She grinned mischievously. She put her arms around Caine s waist and moved sinuously against him, standing on her tiptoes to nibble on his neck. "Is it working?" she asked hopefully a few moments later. Are you charmed?"

He was fighting a losing battle, Caine acknowledged as the corners of his mouth curved into a reluctant smile. He couldn't resist her and she had to know it. His arms closed around her and he held her tightly against him for a moment before setting her firmly away from him. "All right, I won't say anything to Grant," he said gruffly. Having Miranda witness his easy capitulation was a trifle embarrassing. But Juliet wasn't at all shy about exclaiming her thanks and kissing him in front of a witness.

After serving her sister a sandwich Juliet made him a stack of the most delicious pancakes he'd ever tasted, then sat on his lap while he ate them. Miranda went to bed shortly afterward, seemingly without any aftereffects from her fall, and Caine and Juliet spent another hour and a half in the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking.

They traded opinions, likes, and dislikes on every conceivable subject. Their conversation proved to be as exciting and exhilarating as their lovemaking. They were still going strong when a sleepy-eyed Olivia arrived shortly before four a.m. She mumbled a quick hello and went directly upstairs to bed.

"I guess it's time for me to leave," Caine said reluctantly. "I had no idea it was so late."

"Take me home with you, Caine," Juliet said impulsively, her eyes soft with love. For she was in love with him. There was no other word to describe the stunning emotions he evoked within her. It had taken her twenty-six years to fall in love, but Caine Saxon was well worth waiting for.

She was his and she wanted to belong to him completely—physically, emotionally, every way a woman could belong to a man. She no longer feared losing her identity and autonomy in a loving merger. Caine wouldn't allow that to happen. He was too strong a man to need a woman to lose herself in his shadow. She would be one with Caine, yet would alwavs retain her own strength, her own self.

Caine read the unspoken message shining in her eyes. The temptation to pick her up and carry her away with him was almost overwhelming. But he forced himself to be rational. "It'll be dawn soon." He touched her soft, flushed cheek. "Aren't you tired?"

She flashed an impish grin. "Saxon, I've never been less tired in my entire life."

"I probably should give you more time," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "You—"

"I don't need any more time. I don't want any more time. I love you, Caine." She put her arms around him and snuggled against him. "Please, take me with you."

How could he resist when he wanted her so much? he asked himself. There was no power on earth that could make him turn her away now. He kissed her deeply, tenderly. And then whispered huskily, "Get your things, Juliet. We're going home."

❧

Caine lived in a sprawling brick ranch-style house in one of Charlottesville's newer, exclusive neighborhoods. As Juliet gazed around the large living room it struck her for the first time that Caine Saxon was a rich man. She recognized the high quality of the furniture, rugs, and accessories. Clearly no expense had been spared in the decor of his home.

The kitchen was a modern dream, large and bright and airy, with every appliance imaginable, all looking so new and untouched that she knew they were seldom used. Caine had described his own cooking as "pathetic."

Her eyes widened when he showed her the specially designed Jacuzzi room with its twelve-foot black marble tub. There were smaller bathrooms adjoining three bedrooms, which were attractively but impersonally decorated. It was clear that they were guest rooms and not often occupied. Caine's own bedroom was big enough to accommodate easily a king-size bed, which was covered with a green, black, and red geometric print spread, and the other pieces of heavy Spanish-style furniture. A comfortable chair and ottoman covered in the same material as the bedspread were tucked into a corner of the room.

Juliet held onto her canvas overnight bag and stared at the bed. She was still wearing her blue nightgown under the beige raincoat she'd tossed on as they were leaving her house. It had seemed like a waste of time to get dressed when she would be getting undressed so soon. Or so she'd thought at the time. Now she wondered if she hadn't been rather brazenly eager. Perhaps too eager?

She cast a covert glance at Caine, wondering what he was thinking. There had been so many women in his life. Was her main appeal for him the fact that she was a virgin? Apparently not too many of those crossed his path! Should she take advantage of the novelty factor and play the nervous innocent? It wouldn't take too much acting, she decided, for to her great self-disgust she was assailed by a genuine case of primitive virginal jitters.

"Scared?" Caine asked quietly. He took her bag from her, then divested her of her raincoat. He tossed both on the chair in the corner.

"Of—of course not!" she retorted with a bravado she was far from feeling. "After all, it's not like this is the first night I've ever slept with you. That night at the inn was."

He laughed. "That's true. You're becoming an old hand at getting into bed with me, aren't you?" His hand snaked out to fasten around her wrist, and he pulled her to him. "Those big blue eyes of yours are as round as saucers. What are you thinking, little Juliet?"

She managed a tremulous smile. "Actually, I was wondering what you were thinking."

"I'm thinking how beautiful you are, how desirable," he said huskily, taking her into his arms. "I'm thinking how special you are to me."

His fingers traced the line of her collarbone from her throat to her shoulders, then he carefully slipped her nightgown to her waist. Sliding his palms along her silken skin, he proceeded to push the nightgown over her hips, letting it drop into a pale blue pool at her feet.

Juliet stood before him in her pale blue panties, her heart thundering against her ribs. Caine's eyes were riveted to her uptilted breasts, which were firm and rounded and milky white. The rosy tips grew taut under his scrutiny. "And I'm thinking," he continued thickly, "that I can't play the noble protector any longer. Sweetheart, I have to have you!"

His mouth closed over hers with driving possession, and she drew a convulsive, shuddering breath as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples into aching, hard arousal.

Juliet gave in to the intense yearning pulsing within her. All traces of apprehension and anxiety were erased in a ferocious tide of passion. She lovingly offered herself to him, opening completely to his mouth and lips and hands.

Mutely acknowledging her surrender, Caine swung her up into his arms and held her high against his chest. She pressed her face into his shirt and inhaled the clean scent of him. It went straight to her head, and she clung to him, her pulses pounding at a frantic rate. He laid her down gently in the middle of the big bed, then quickly stripped off his clothes.

How beautiful he was, she thought dizzily as she gazed at his hard, bare body. How strong and powerful and wondrously male. Caine felt her eyes upon him and misinterpreted her wide-eyed stare.

"I'm not going to hurt you, love," he said softly. "We'll take it slow and long and easy. I'll make it good for you, Juliet, I promise."

But Juliet felt no fear. His masculine size and strength beckoned and appealed to the passionate woman within her, who had been dormant and unawakened for so long. She was roused now, and filled with a loving urgency that precluded anything but the need to please her man. She wanted to give and give to him, but she wanted to take too. She wanted to take the wonderful completion he offered to her.

"I need you so badly, Juliet," he said hoarsely. His hand slipped between her thighs and his fingers probed the damp silk of her panties. "And you need me, too, love. You want me. I can feel how very much you want me, my passionate little Juliet."

He removed the scrap of lace and silk with one deft movement, and his fingers found the sensitive hollow of her inner thighs and began to trace erotic little patterns there. A fire ignited within her, sending flames of arousal to every nerve.

One long finger circled an achingly taut nipple, gently skimming over the sensitive skin surrounding the hot pink bud. Again and again he circled the throbbing peak, yet refrained from touching it directly. And he did the same to the small pulsing throb that lay deep between her thighs. Circling, teasing, yet holding back until she was twisting mindlessly with wild need.

"Please," she cried as her head tossed back and forth on the pillow. She was enveloped in a whirling hot mist, feeling, needing, wanting . . . and only Caine could relieve the erotic tension building inside her. "Please, Caine."

"Yes, love," he soothed. "I'll take care of you. I'll give you everything you need." His mouth took her nipple, and when he began to suck she could feel the sensation deep within her womb. And then his hand slipped between her legs and his touch became concentrated and intense, holding her with a nerve-shattering rhythm of sensuous pressure.

"Are you ready for me, precious? Do you want me inside you as much as I want to be there?" He kissed her hungrily, torridly. "Deep, deep inside ..."

"Oh. yes, Caine," she said in a throaty, sexy voice that she hardly recognized as her own.

He moved away from her for a moment, and she reached blindly for him, whimpering his name. If he left her she would surely die from the surging, melting electricity that had possessed her. She wanted . . . she needed . . .

"It's all right," he said. "I'm here." He gave a hoarse, self-mocking laugh. "For a moment there I almost forgot all about protecting you. And I promised that I would never hurt you ..."

"I don't need protecting from you, Caine," she whispered, pressing herself tightly against him. "And I know you'll never hurt me."

"My darling!" Her loving trust, her open sweetness, were as powerful a lure as her voluptuous and passionate responses. "Juliet, sweetheart, I can't wait any longer!" He kissed her again, and his tongue entered her as he drove into her with a powerful thrust that caused her to cry out.

He lay still within her, giving her time to acclimate her body to his. She clutched at his shoulders, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow and uneven as she trembled beneath him.

"Sweetheart, are you all right?" he murmured hoarsely. He buried his mouth in the tender hollow of her neck. "Open your eyes and look at me. love."

Deep blue eyes met dark amber ones. "Caine." She whispered his name in a kind of dazed wonder. He was a part of her—their bodies were joined as one. Her hands tightened possessively on him and a burst of exultant joy surged through her. He was hers. He belonged to her in a way that no one else ever had or would. She tightened around him with pure feminine possession. She felt strong and proud and glad to be a woman, holding the man she loved deeply within her.

Caine gazed into her eyes and a slow smile spread across his face. "You're not the least bit tense or scared. I don't think I'm going to have to worry about you, after all."

"Why were you worried?" She nipped playfully at his lips with her teeth, then teased him with her tongue. She felt wonderful, her body full, the aching emptiness relieved. "Did you think I'd swoon with an attack of the vapors or something?"

He chuckled. "Nothing quite so Victorian. But you're so small and dainty and—in case you haven't noticed—I happen to be built like an bull."

"I'm just the right size for you," she told him succinctly. "A perfect fit." She arched beneath him and clutched him tighter.

He drew in his breath sharply and began to move slowly within her. "So small and soft," he breathed, his strokes long and slow and deep. "So hot and tight and sweet. You're mine, Juliet. You were made for me, just me."

"Yes!" She clung to him as the golden flames licked through her veins, burning her, consuming her in a conflagration of scalding passion. "Caine, I love you!" she cried. "I love you!"

The white-hot intensity seemed to sweep her out of herself, to plunge her into a whirlpool of aching ecstasy and beyond, to a timeless dimension. She and Caine were suddenly rocked by a swell of glowing sweet waves that quenched the fire and set them down into a sensual sea of languid warmth. . . .