Do You Love Me? Read online

  He touched her casually and often, scarcely seemed to notice, while each occurrence ignited small fires inside her. She replayed every incident in detail when she was alone, wondered if the touching were intentional, hoped it was, then chastised herself for being sophomoric.

  On Saturday night, she went upstairs early, bathed, put on a prim, white eyelet, ankle-length nightgown, and moped.

  She’d declined when Darryl invited her for dinner and club hopping. She didn’t intend to go out with him again, not ever, certainly not to bed, which he always assumed was part of any evening’s activity.

  She paced. She had not anticipated how disturbing it would be to have Peter so close, all day, every day.

  He had not been there a week, yet it felt like much longer. She dropped into a chair and picked up the tedious novel.

  What was wrong with her? Had she turned into one of those shriveled up old maids enchanted by a hireling?

  If she were so desperate for male attention, why didn’t she go out with Darryl?

  She tossed the novel aside, stood and paced, circling her room twice before she stepped into the hall.

  Striding to the upstairs sitting room, she turned on the television and surfed through channels, barely aware of the pictures flitting by on the screen before she pressed the power button, canceling the distraction, and tossed the remote onto the love seat.

  Pivoting, she paced past the guest rooms, the small utility room and back to her own suite.

  She heard something and stopped stock still to listen, scarcely breathing. The faint whir of an engine. Merriam and Angus had already gone to his sister’s for their weekly card game. It had to be the orange pickup truck, leaving.

  Savanna’s heart plummeted. She looked at the clock. Nearly eight. He was a red-blooded, single male. Of course, he was going out, normal Saturday night behavior. Why then, she asked herself, did she find it so surprising? So disappointing? Her shoulders rounded as she exhaled.

  Perhaps he might have a regular, steady girlfriend. In all their talks that week, she hadn’t asked about a girlfriend, not that she hadn’t thought of it. While prying into many facets of his life, she had reminded herself, often, not to go there. His personal involvements were none of her business. She had been pleased with herself, at those times.

  Idly, she wondered what he was wearing, then groaned.

  She had a right to be annoyed. Hadn’t she sacrificed an evening with Darryl to be here with…

  No, that was neither fair nor true.

  Still, they might have played chess or cards or one of the board games she’d bought for them.

  Not true either. She was in her nightgown, had had no intention of entertaining the man dressed like that.

  As she listened to his truck glide down the driveway, she ran on tiptoe into a guest room on the front of the house. Without turning on a light, she peered out.

  The ancient orange vehicle stopped at the gate, then turned left. Downtown? Why was he going downtown? Was he looking for a woman? A companion for the evening? Someone to relieve the pressure of a week with Savanna Cavendish, the ice queen?

  She plodded back down the hall, feeling abandoned. She had been alone in this house many, many nights, yet she had never felt so forsaken.

  Instead of continuing to prowl upstairs, she slipped on the thin cotton eyelet robe that matched her gown and went downstairs thinking she’d mix herself a stiff drink.

  Somehow that didn’t sound good.

  She wandered through the house, turning on few lights.

  In the sun room, she stopped to finger keys on the piano, but she recalled thick hands splayed there boldly pounding out zydeco, and the memory turned her away.

  She continued rambling, into the kitchen, browsed through the refrigerator, nibbled an olive. She dipped a bowl of ice cream, then stuck the bowl and its contents, including the spoon, back in the freezer. Maybe later.

  Eventually, her stroll took her through the great room and out.

  Poolside, she considered peeling off her clothes and taking a quick swim. She’d already had her bath, and didn’t want to have to shampoo chlorine out of her hair again.

  Past the cabana and out the back gate, she walked through the dark passageway toward the lighted porte cochere where Peter parked his truck, in the covered area behind the garages, concealed from prying eyes.

  She stopped abruptly, surprised at the sight of a weight bench and a cluster of alien equipment. It must be Peter’s. Of course. He was used to hot hard work. He had provided himself a workout space, a way to stay in shape in his new, soft life. She allowed a secretive smile, thinking of the ego that prodded him to keep that marvelous body in condition.

  Straddling the weight bench, she rolled back to lie under the bar. She braced her hands on either end and pushed. It didn’t budge. It was probably a good thing she couldn’t push the bar out of its bracket, she decided. If it fell, it might take her head off.

  Walls muffled the sound of the approaching engine until headlights crept around the corner of the building to catch her sprawled on the weight bench. It was the orange truck.

  She sat up quickly, startled, and tugged at her thin night clothes. The engine stopped, then nothing, as the headlights continued to bathe her. A minute passed, then two. Savanna sat frozen, unable to decide what to do. She crossed her arms over her chest, thinking to be up and gone as soon as the lights went out, mortified at the idea he might have someone with him, a woman.

  The driver’s door opened and Peter stepped out, the insufferable smirk on his face. “You’re busted.”

  She laughed nervously. “I…I…ah…”

  He sidled closer. “It’s okay, Savanna. It’s your property. You have the right to inspect your property whenever you choose.” He arched a brow and added suggestively, “Anytime.” He studied her a moment. “Have you been up to my quarters?”

  “No.” Now she was annoyed. What did he mean? She was not inspecting anything, certainly had no interest in invading his privacy. Then what, she asked herself, was she doing cowering here on his weight bench? “I heard you leave. I was restless. I came down to walk by the pool.”

  “Were you concerned about me, Savanna? Did you miss me?” He advanced another step.

  She tugged again at her clothing, pulling the flimsy fabric more closely around her but she didn’t dare stand up in front of those headlights. “No. Have you been drinking?”

  “We are speaking of you. Here. Dressed this way. Are you looking for adventure, Savanna?” He moved another step closer. She cringed but remained seated, trying to keep herself covered as much as possible in the face of the invasive headlights.

  “I told you. I was walking by the pool. Recently it’s been off limits to me at night.” She flashed a haughty look, emphasizing her point, then, “I saw the lights were on over here…” She let the sentence die when she saw his smirk become playful. Suddenly he returned to the truck and doused the headlights.

  Enshrouded again in shadows, Savanna leaped to her feet clutching her thin nightwear, realizing their eyes would adjust quickly to the muted lights of the porte cochere.

  “I didn’t come to snoop.” She hesitated and tried to peer into the truck’s dark interior. “I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon, that you might even bring someone with you.” Her eyes were not able to penetrate the darkness enough to see anything or anyone inside the vehicle.

  When Peter didn’t respond, she turned toward the darkened passageway behind the cabana to escape before she embarrassed herself even more than she already had.

  She’d taken two steps into the darkened haven when Peter’s work-roughened hand caught her arm. She tried to pull free, but he held her.

  “No one is with me.” His hand was warm. She caught a faint smell of wine on his breath and tugged again, trying to break free, but his fingers tightened and she froze.

  “It does you no harm for me to touch you, Savanna. I like touching you.” His voice dropped to a coaxing growl. “Yo
ur smooth, white skin…” He brushed his thumb over the sensitive inside of her wrist and his voice became even more seductive. “I want to touch you…very much. And I will.”

  She pulled but again he refused to release her.

  “Not yet, of course. Not until you…”

  She stopped struggling to regard him, but his eyes were trained on her captive wrist.

  His voice was a whisper. “Tonight, Savanna, at this moment, in this place, I am yours to do with as you will.”

  Her heart thudded. “You are not mine, Peter. I don’t own you. I don’t even want you.”

  He cocked a playful brow as his eyes probed hers. “I think maybe you do. People say I am your gigolo.”

  She had to swallow before she could speak again. “You and I know that’s not true. You are entirely your own man.”

  He gave her a withering smile. “That was true before, but no longer. You have bewitched me, Savanna Cavendish.” He positioned himself squarely in front of her, so close she could hear the thrum of his heart. “I am yours to command. I will do anything you like, anywhere, the pool, your house or mine.”

  She shivered as he stroked her arm, then removed his hand from her entirely.

  “You are your own man, Peter. I assure you, if you did belong to me, I would disown you for this adolescent behavior and for drinking. Like all men, however, you are free to behave as foolishly as you like. But understand this: I won’t put up with much. My reputation is important to me. Had I realized you were prone to alcohol…”

  He caught her shoulders, swung her around to face away from him and nudged her on the path. “I’ll walk you to the house.”

  She didn’t know if she felt relieved or annoyed by his abrupt interruption. She was just getting wound up, about to say things…things they both might regret.

  While she weighed that thought, his hand slid down her bare arm. Chills pebbled before and behind his touch, yet it seemed so natural that she didn’t struggle as he clasped her hand in his.

  Glancing up, she was surprised to find him watching her, the smirk replaced by a vague expression she could not read. Wordlessly, they walked through the darkness behind the cabana, and out into the muted light rimming the pool.

  “Do you wish to know where I have been?” he asked.

  “It’s none of my business.”

  “It is your business. Everything I do is your business. I am your own special feel-good project, remember? Now, where do you imagine I went?”

  “To town.” She shot him a guilty look. “I watched you leave.” He was straight and strong and virile and his hand was warm.

  “Tell me your thoughts as I drove away.”

  She shrugged. “I assumed you had a date. It’s perfectly all right for you to have a private life away from here.” She paused, regarding the deck beneath their slow pace. “You may even use my car or my other vehicles, when I don’t need them. Drive them on your dates.”

  He snorted a derisive laugh. “My dates do not care what vehicle I drive.”

  Her attempted smile wavered. “No, I don’t suppose they do. I was trying to be nice.”

  “No, you were not trying to be nice. You know how to be nice to me.”

  She didn’t like the innuendo and tried to pull her hand from his but his grip tightened. She stopped walking and stiffened. “I was offering you my vehicles, not my person.”

  He tugged and they began walking again in silence.

  “Oh, all right. Did you meet a woman?”

  The grin came slowly, etching the long dimples, enhancing his rugged good looks, and his eyes glittered. “You could say that I did.”

  “Someone you’ve known a while?”

  “Yes.” His eyes were suspiciously playful as they danced over her face.

  “Do you see her often?”

  His sudden solemn look obviously was a sham. “Every week.”

  Savanna hesitated. If she continued with this, she was going to wind up feeling betrayed, but she couldn’t seem to let it go. Her next words came on their own. “Do you love her?”

  He looked apologetic. “Very much.”

  She again attempted to wrench her hand from his as they approached the doors to the great room, but he held firmly.

  “Being with you like this, alone in the night, is difficult for me, Savanna. I am lost in the spell of the fragrances that bathe your body, your hair, the same bouquets that tantalize my senses day and night.”

  She swayed, lulled by his words and the balmy night air. She must make him stop, say something cruel to break the web his words wove, bringing their faces closer and closer.

  She cleared her throat, an effort to clear the cobwebs from her thoughts as well. “Why are you talking to me like this, Peter? Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?”

  He gave a ragged laugh and his lips seemed very close.

  Savanna’s heart pounded and her throat went dry. Her breath came in quick, tiny gasps. She needed to talk, distract him, to distract them both. “What’s her name, this woman of yours?”

  “Mary.” His expression again became serious. She could feel his breath on her cheek, smell his after shave, his skin. He lowered his head slightly and was suddenly still. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her breasts that undulated beneath the eyelet neckline. She had to say something, anything to banish the enchantment.

  “Would Mary approve of your holding me like this?”

  He blinked slowly and the grin reappeared. “She would not approve of my feelings at this moment. No. Mary does not condone even the thoughts of fornication.”

  Suddenly she realized he was speaking of the Holy Mother Mary.

  He pulled her closer, pressing her breasts to his chest, her thighs to his thighs. He rocked his head back, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he swayed, rubbing against her slowly, torturously.

  She pushed on his shoulders, felt the muscles flex, and turned her face away as he lowered his mouth. She trembled as his lips touched her temple. She closed her eyes and her breath came in shallow gasps as he nibbled kisses down the side of her face to her jaw. His voice was soft. “I went to church, to Confession.”

  She quivered as he whispered against her neck. “I asked the Blessed Mother for only one thing, that you could love me.”

  He leaned away and the insufferable smirk cut his face. “Imagine my surprise to find you here, like this,” he caught a bit of the eyelet and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, “lying on my bench, waiting for me. The Holy Mother often answers prayers, but I sincerely did not expect this.”

  Savanna again pushed his shoulders trying to gather her wits. “I am not the answer to your prayer.”

  “Prayers, my darling, querida. Many prayers that began the moment our eyes met over the hood of your car.”

  She needed to stop the swirling, dizzying emotions playing tag inside her, even if she had to offend him. “You sound like some goofy, hormonal teenager.”

  “Yes.” He nodded thoughtfully as his mouth again inched so close his warm breath seared her skin. Almost involuntarily, she teetered toward him.

  Her objection sounded weak and she trembled as he brushed kisses down her jaw line, nibbling from her earlobe to her chin then up where the tip of his tongue teased the corner of her mouth.

  “No.” She turned her head away, battling her own mutinous desire.

  His mouth followed hers, teasing, tormenting, as if he knew her lips longed to be caught and subdued.

  Why was she playing this foolish game? If she struggled in earnest, he would release her. But raw sensations ran rampant and pulsed in the vortex between her legs.

  She turned her face from side to side, more slowly with each pass as his mouth followed hers. His eyes were open and laughing as he finally settled the warm, generous lips on hers. He laced his fingers into her hair.

  She felt oddly disappointed that he seemed content with a polite kiss, until his hands trailed to her shoulder blades and down, sealing their bodies. He stoo
ped, locked his hands beneath her buttocks, lifted and tilted his head as he slipped his tongue between her lips. At the same time his rigid cock buried itself between her legs. She cried out but the sound was swallowed in his cavernous mouth.

  Trembling, she threw her arms around his neck. She told herself she did it only to keep from falling, then wondered who she was kidding? His body was exquisite, and so very close, so real, so urgent.

  Would he force her?

  She shuddered and clung to his bulging shoulders, ashamed to realize, he wouldn’t have to.

  Need spiked between them like electricity, arcing from his turgid body into hers and back.

  She couldn’t think, had no desire to defend against his mouth, his hands, the nether part of him throbbing. His need and passion incited her own. She had never known such primitive physical yearning.

  Her prior experiences with sex had been sedate events with the gentlemen involved studying her body as they might peruse a smorgasbord. This was no gentleman sampling to stimulate his appetite, but a lion preparing to ravish her.

  She wriggled and he relaxed his hold for a moment. As he leaned his upper body away from her, his arousal became more pronounced and he whispered, “Querida.”

  The fire of his passion bled from his skin into his eyes. The huskiness in his voice, his grip, the startling smolder in his gaze frightened her. She needed to think, to keep her head, for both their sakes. She drew a breath, trying to disregard the pleas from her own body.

  “What about your other women, Peter?”

  His grip tightened beneath her buttocks and he lifted her higher as his lips transferred their heat to her throat. His voice rasped against her skin. “I do not toy with women. It makes for battles within.” He trembled. “You are my only temptation. I speak your name again and again in the confessional.”

  She pushed his shoulders, trying to see his face, but her movement pressed them more firmly together. She shuddered. She knew exactly what he meant by “battles within.” She was waging a war of her own at the moment. Tremors in his arms verified he was fighting the same raging demons besieging her.

  “Stop.” She pushed harder. “We need to stop this. Now.”