Where the Heart Is by Elizabeth Lowell
“Normally,” he said in a husky voice, “I’d be delighted to have my nephew around. He’s good company. But I was hoping to take you home tonight. And keep you.”
Her breath stopped at the sensual promise in his voice.
“But,” he said, “I knew that wouldn’t happen when JoLynn told me it didn’t matter what time I brought Billy back after the picnic. She’d be gone, and the maid would let him in.”
Cain’s mouth hovered just above Shelley’s. His lips touched hers lightly between words.
“I keep telling myself that it’s just as well,” he said. “I know it’s too soon for you to accept me as a lover. But I feel like I’ve always known you, always laughed with you, always missed you, always cared for you, always wanted you.”
Without hesitation she kissed him as he had kissed her, moving her lips lightly around the edges of his beautifully shaped mouth. She felt a need to give warmth to him that had nothing to do with passion or desire. She wanted to touch him with her mind, but couldn’t, so she gave him back the exquisitely tender caresses he had given to her.
She had never kissed a man like that before, a gentle sharing of self that was as deeply moving in its own way as passion had been earlier.
It was the same when Cain walked Shelley to her front door. He held her as though she were more fragile than a butterfly’s wing. His lips were very gentle over hers.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Come early.” She ran a fingertip over his soft mustache. “You can go swimming before dinner.”
“I feel as though I’m drowning now. Will you save me?”
“Cain . . .”
“Thank you.”
He took her mouth as gently as he had taken her lips. Slowly he touched the tip of his tongue to hers, felt her tremble at the caress, tasted her sweetness as she touched him in return. Warm and soft, trembling in his arms, she made him want to worship and ravish her at the same time, to protect her from any harm and to crush her body to his with every bit of strength he had. There was paradox in his feelings, but no conflict.
He wanted her in every way it was possible for a man to want a woman.
And he knew that she didn’t want him in the same way. Not yet. At some level she was still afraid of herself and of him.
Traveling man.
Reluctantly Cain let go of her.
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
Silently Shelley watched him walk back to the car, where Billy waited.
Tomorrow had never seemed farther away.
Chapter Ten
Normally Shelley spent Saturdays attending auctions or rummaging among the new catalogs that poured into The Gilded Lily during the week. But this week there were no auctions to amuse her. Business was entering its fall decline. The lowest point would be in December. Then, around the second week in January, everyone would realize that the fun was over and it was time to get back to planning for the next year.
Restlessly Shelley went through the house, wondering how to fill the hours. There was no point in vacuuming, for the cleaners had come yesterday. There was no point in shopping, for there was nothing new to add to her home. It was finished, perfect, complete within itself.
Too soon to go swimming and too late to fiddle around in the garden, she thought, looking at her surroundings.
The art catalogs she had been itching to read a few days ago looked uninteresting now. She picked up one of the glossy magazines and flipped through it with a feeling that she had seen all of its treasures many times before.
What’s wrong with me? she wondered irritably. I’ve always enjoyed time to myself. Until recently.
When the telephone rang, she reached for it with a sense of relief. She didn’t like the way her thoughts were being pulled to Cain and his laughter, to Billy and his quick smile, to the echoing emptiness of her home.
“Hello,” she said.
“It’s Cain. I’ve got to talk fast before Billy comes back. Dave called this morning. It’s Billy’s birthday. Could you surprise him and add ice cream and candles to tonight’s menu?”
Eagerness went through her for the first time that day.
“Sure. Does he need anything else? What time will you be here? Does he have any friends he’d like to invite?”
“We’ll keep it simple this time. Oops, here he comes. I miss you, mink.”
The phone went dead before she could answer.
She stared at the receiver for a moment, hearing the echoes of his deep voice in her mind.
Mink. Soft and wild.
The idea of a man like Cain thinking she was sexy made Shelley grin. Then, laughing at herself and the world, she started organizing her day around a birthday celebration for Billy.
Her first stop was at his house. The housekeeper recognized The Gilded Lily’s business card, let Shelley in, and went back to cleaning ornate silver candlesticks.
For the sake of business appearances, Shelley made a lightning tour of the house before she concentrated on Billy’s room. A quick look at his overflowing closet told her that clothes wouldn’t be on his birthday list.
His CD collection was equally intimidating, if quantity alone hadn’t warned her off, the boggling covers would have. After reading the names and looking at the photos, she couldn’t imagine what the music would sound like.
Elephants mating, she decided. During a volcanic eruption.
Out of her depth and knowing it, she turned toward the software stacked on top of the comics. She felt more at home with the computer materials. She had just finished gilding the home of an electronics nut, using everything from framed “first editions” of software to modern sculpture made of recycled circuit boards.
Notebook in hand, she flipped through the software pile, writing down the titles of games. Then she turned toward the bookcase that supported the dozing turtle’s home. She had read enough science fiction herself to recognize many of the authors. Not surprisingly, Billy showed a distinct preference for sword-and-sorcery epics. He also leaned toward the better writers within that specialty.
Shelley wrote down the gaps in his collection of favorite authors. She was surprised to find that he had only one of the many science fiction art books that were available.
“Doesn’t he like them?” she asked the turtle. “Or are they just too expensive?”
Without waiting for an answer, she took down the lone art book. It had been thumbed through so often that the gloss had worn off some of the page corners.
“Yes!” Shelley said softly. “He likes them.”
Humming “Happy Birthday,” she let herself out of the house and drove to her favorite science fiction bookstore, which also carried a large selection of fantasy games. The store had a window display of gleaming lead miniatures. Dragons, knights, trolls, and assorted monsters guaranteed to delight an amiably bloodthirsty imagination were all locked in battle beneath the clear southern California sun.
The centerpiece of the display was eighteen inches of shining silver dragon. The creature looked both graceful and deadly. Unlike the miniatures, the dragon had been cast with a loving attention to detail that showed in the intricate patterns of each scale and the polished, deadly curve of tooth and claw. The artist who created the dragon had a considerable knowledge of art as well as anatomy and myth. Light shimmered over the creature in rhythmic patterns, as though the dragon were slowly breathing.
“Lovely,” she said. “Just the thing to focus his bedroom.”
Smiling, she went inside. The bookstore had everything Billy might want, and more. She picked out several of the irresistible art books, an illustrated collection of his favorite science fiction author, and a few other paperbacks.
Then she bought the gleaming silver dragon.
Just as she was getting ready to leave, she spotted an unusual painting tucked away in the corner. Vivid, almost surreal in its clarity, the painting showed the universe as it would look if seen from the center of the Milky Way.
Shelley walked back
Exhilaration swept through her as it had when she first saw Billy’s rumpled, defiantly individual room. Whoever had created this painting understood the mystery and beauty of the unknown, unknowable universe. The painting was a window looking into a limitless, extraordinary future, challenging and seducing at the same time, demanding that she look up from her comfortable life and admit to an infinite universe of possibilities.
Shelley went and found the store owner. She was determined to buy the painting, despite the fact that it bore no particular resemblance to anything in her home.
Dragon under one arm, fantasy books under the other, and a universe clutched in both hands, she walked back to the parking lot. Then she stood next to her car, blinking in the bright sun, somehow surprised to find herself in a world that looked the same as when she had left it less than an hour ago.
Several hours later, the presents were safely wrapped and hidden in Shelley’s bedroom, waiting for the surprise party she had planned. Only a few details remained undone. She was taking care of them in her own way, at her own speed.
At the moment, she was stretched out on a comfortable chaise tongue by the pool. A bowl of fresh string beans rested on her stomach. Lazily she pulled the string, snapped off the top and bottom of each bean, and tossed the rejected bits back into the metal bowl. Then she snapped the rest of the beans into bite-size pieces and dropped them into a pot beside the chaise on the flagstone patio.
She was half asleep. The waterfall at the end of the pool spoke in rushing, husky, tumbling syllables, promising relief from the heat that welled up out of the ravine below her house. There was a summer’s worth of intense sunlight radiating back through the tangled chaparral.
Squinting against the sun, she watched Cain and Billy chase each other through the clear depths of the pool, leaving silver trails of bubbles behind. Each time the boy surfaced, his cupped hand sent a fountain of water arcing to the point where he thought his uncle would come up. Then, shouting with glee at the watery ambush, Billy would dive again, somehow eluding the quick, powerful man who always seemed just on the point of catching him.
Shelley knew that Cain could have grabbed his nephew any time he cared to. But it was more fun to pretend to be outdone by the eager, laughing boy.
Her eyelids lowered all the way. Smiling, drifting in a warm kind of twilight punctuated by Billy’s laughter, she fished in the bowl of unsnapped beans. She chose a bean by touch, prepared it, and dropped the pieces in the pot.
After a time, she sensed as much as felt the slight sinking of her cushion. Something had settled ever so lightly next to the bowl of beans that rested on her stomach.
“Nudge?”
The cat did. Twice. A paw, claws politely sheathed, rested on her thigh in a silent plea. Or warning.
Sighing, eyes still closed, Shelley searched for a U-shaped bean. Nudge liked the curvy ones best.
The cat bumped its head against her hand, urging her to choose a bean quickly.
“Patience, cat. I’m working on it. Ah, here we go.”
She held out a curled bean on her palm.
Nudge scooped the bean up in her mouth, jumped lightly to the ground, and began to bat the defenseless vegetable around the flagstones.
Without opening her eyes, Shelley smiled, knowing what the cat was doing. As a kitten, Nudge had developed an odd passion for string beans. She hadn’t outgrown it.
The cushion gave slightly again. The bowl of green beans on Shelley’s stomach shifted under another gentle nudge. She didn’t bother to open her eyes.
“Back so soon? What happened? Did you knock the poor bean into the pool and drown it?”
The bowl slid to one side.
“Nudge! Watch it!”
“Not Nudge. Squeeze.”
Her eyes flew open.
Cool, wet arms wrapped around her and lifted her from the chaise. The metal bowl tipped upside down onto the flagstones with a clear, ringing sound.
She barely noticed. She felt the heat of Cain beneath the evaporating water as he squeezed gently, pulling her against his chest. Sunlight glittered in the drops caught in the burnished golds and browns of the wet hair on his chest. She wondered if the drops would taste warm or cool, sweet or saline.
Slowly, almost helplessly, she turned her head and licked up a single drop of water from his chest. She felt the tightening of muscles that went through his whole body.
“I wish to God,” he said huskily, “that we were alone.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think.”
“I know. That’s what made it so damned sexy.”
Startled, she looked into the face that was so close to hers. The subtle tones of blue in his eyes were more pronounced beneath the open sky, making his irises a pale, silvery azure that shifted color with each movement of his head. Now almost blue, now nearly transparent, now silver, now darkening to steel gray as the pupils expanded, his eyes fascinated her.
“Your eyes are as beautiful as your mouth,” she said.
Then she realized that she had done it again, acted without thinking. She closed her eyes.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “You have a drastic effect on my self-control.”
“I think we both need a cold bath.”
“The pool is eighty-two.”
“That’s a hell of a lot colder than either one of us right now.”
In three strides he was at the edge of the pool. The fourth stride took him into the deep end near the waterfall, still firmly holding her.
While the initial burst of bubbles still shielded them from Billy’s sight, Cain took Shelley’s mouth in a hard, quick kiss. Then he pushed up from the bottom of the pool in a powerful surge that brought both of them shooting back into the air.
The first thing she saw was Billy’s anxious face as he leaned toward her from the side of the pool.
“I told him not to get your hair wet! You aren’t mad, are you?”
His expression said a lot more than his words. He was afraid that the day had been spoiled.
For an instant she didn’t think why he would be so certain she was angry. Then she realized that JoLynn would have been furious if her carefully applied paint and hair spray were ruined by a casual dunking in the pool.
Stupid woman, Shelley thought. Doesn’t she know how much a child’s laughter is worth?
She smiled up at Billy, slung dripping strands of hair out of her eyes, and swam lazily to his side of the pool.
“I don’t get mad,” she said. “I get even.”
She grabbed Billy’s wrist and yanked him into the pool. Moments later he surfaced with a delighted grin.
A wild, three-cornered game of tag started. The shouts and laughs, splashes and thrashing limbs attracted Nudge’s predatory interest. She paced around the pool, following the action eagerly, ducking her head when random jets of water came her way.
When no one had breath left for tag, Billy suggested a few rounds of blindman’s bluff. He even volunteered to be It.
Shelley and Cain kept away from Billy for a while, until the older man winked at her and “accidentally” splashed noisily. The boy lunged and managed to grab his uncle’s arm.
“You’re It!”
After a decent interval of floundering and splashing, Cain caught a giggling Billy, who caught a giggling Shelley. They traded being It until Billy finally began to get bored. Then Cain allowed himself to be caught. He and Billy whispered for a minute.
Cain closed his eyes, counted to ten very slowly, and began to search for victims.
Squinting against the late-afternoon sun, Shelley watched him. Arms spread wide to sweep as much of the pool as possible, he moved silently in the water.
&n
She tried to be as quiet as the boy had been, but she was in the middle of the pool, which meant she had a lot of water to cover before she could slip away. As she eased over to the side, Cain turned swiftly toward her, sensing the currents she made when she kicked her legs underwater. She moved aside, letting herself drift.
As though he had sonar, he turned when she did, pursuing her in slow motion. There was an eerie silence and a predatory grace to his movements as he herded her toward a corner of the pool.
Her heart began to beat faster in a combination of anticipation and vague, instinctive fear. He looked unreasonably large, impossible to escape from, smooth and very powerful.
She dropped beneath the surface and fled toward the waterfall. A large hand fastened around her ankle just as she came up for air behind the waterfall’s liquid veil.
Cain surfaced very close to her, shaking water out of his eyes with a toss of his head.
“Guess I’m It,” she said, suddenly breathless.
“Guess again.”
He used his body to crowd her against the edge of the pool. Then he braced his arms on either side of her, caging her. His eyes were smoky with desire.
“Billy will—” she began.
“Billy’s making lemonade for his poor; worn-out uncle.”
Cain looked at the sleek, water-polished woman in front of him. Her hair was smooth and dark, her eyes almost green in the pale radiance that filled the grotto behind the waterfall. Water gleamed on her skin, made black stars of her eyelashes, and transformed her hair into a dark veil floating against him, touching him.
“Mink,” he said thickly. “I want you.” His lips opened as his head bent to hers.
She had plenty of time to turn aside. She didn’t. She wanted his kiss with an intensity that shook her.
His mouth was warm over hers, and his tongue was hot enough to burn. He thrust slowly, deeply into her mouth, silently telling her that he would be both hard and gentle when he became a part of her, that he wanted to fill her with himself and be fulfilled in return.