Swept Away

Veronica looked at Schyler. “You don’t clean up when he cooks?” She shook her head. “Shame. Shame.”

Schyler’s eyebrows shot up with such speed that she knew she’d suggested the unthinkable. “Me? Clean up after he cooks? You’re joking. He cleans up his own mess, and when I cook, I do the same. Ready to go? The bay is spectacular about now.”

She settled into the passenger seat of Schyler’s cream-colored Buick Le Sabre, big and comfortable like the man who’s driving it, she found herself thinking. He backed out of the garage and headed for Front Street, and all she could see as he drove through the little village were white buildings.

“Is there an ordinance in this town that requires all the buildings to be white?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. This place is the bedrock of tradition, so it’s probably just copycatting. I think I’ll check that.”

“I can’t imagine growing up here, though I suspect it was more fun than where I lived, considering you’ve got the Chesapeake Bay at your doorstep.”

So she intended to keep their conversation impersonal, did she? All right. He was known for his patience. “The Seafarers Museum is our biggest attraction. Back in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, this region was a pirate’s playground. They came to replenish their supplies and to ply their contraband goods. Of course, there was a great deal of legal trade as well. Spanish galleons used to take refuge in the bay from those powerful Atlantic storms. So we have a phenomenal cache of treasures from ships that were sunk in these parts. Maybe I’ll take you through the museum next time, but right now I want you to see the sunset over the bay.” He turned the car south, swung down Waters Edge to the bay and parked at the edge of the beach.

He looked down at her feet. “At least you’ve got on low-heeled shoes.”

He got out and headed around to her side of the car, but she opened the door before he reached it.

“Why didn’t I know you’d do that?” he asked.

She favored him with her sweetest smile. “Simple. Because you’re not omniscient. That’s supposed to be the Lord’s specialty.”

He stopped, stuck his hands in his pants pockets, emphasizing his broad chest and flat belly, rocked back on his heels and did what could only be described as a slow burn.

“I get angry about twice every couple of years, Veronica, but you’ve nearly shoved me to it twice this day. Try not to give vent to your sharp tongue and remind yourself what it feels like to hurt.” Before she could answer, he took her arm, walked along the narrow beach and paused. “Veronica Overton, the executive, is a far cry from the woman I’m looking at.”

She didn’t mind the comment; in a way, it was accurate. On the nose. “When I was that woman, I hadn’t skied the slopes of the Jungfraujoch, and I hadn’t hiked alone for miles over flower-strewn meadows in the lap of the Swiss Alps. Imagine being the only person for miles and miles around with God’s blue sky, towering white snow-capped mountains and flowers of every color for company. Not a puff of wind, and air as fresh as new life. It was truly a rebirth. So you’re right. I’m different, and I hope I stay that way. I’m not chasing fame or success, and I’m no longer hell-bent on becoming Secretary of Welfare. I don’t even give a snap about any of it. I’m myself. Free. I mean free!”

His stare didn’t make her uncomfortable, because she knew he was seeing her with new vision. “And you were yourself before,” she heard him say under the edge of his breath. He turned toward the water and stopped as though frozen in time. “Look! Would you just look at that?”

She followed his gaze to the long red rays that streaked across the rolling water, fanning out from the huge red globe that moved slowly downward against a navy blue and gray sky. At her gasp, he moved closer to her, and for the first time, the feel of his arm around her waist sent powerful shivers of sensual awareness plowing through her. Helpless to prevent her tremors and realizing that he was well aware of her reaction to his touch, she made herself look at him to brazen it out, as if trembling for him were of no consequence.

But he denied her that avenue of escape. “Months ago, when you were the consummate executive, I as much as told you we’d have to deal with this. Don’t count on its going away by itself and of its own accord. The chemistry between us is strong enough to cause an explosion, and nothing will make me believe you don’t know that.”

“I’m not going there right now, Schyler. That isn’t something that bears discussion.”

“Oh sure. If you talked about it, that would make it a fact,” he said. “Well, discuss it or not, whatever hooks men and women has its claws in us.” He laughed a deep tension releasing growl. “No point in worrying until it gets unruly.”

She stepped out of his encircling warmth and walked along beside him swinging her arms. The sun dipped into the Chesapeake Bay, and she couldn’t help reaching for him, clutching his sleeve.

“Schyler. That was…It was so beautiful. I don’t think I ever saw anything to match it.”

He took her hand and sat on a log that had rested in its spot so long that the elements had bleached it. “I love to sit here and look out at the bay. You should see it in the moonlight when the stars almost blanket the sky. I’ve spent hours thinking and dreaming right in this spot. Did you have a special spot where you fought your fears, dreamed dreams and plotted your future?”

Suddenly, she didn’t want to share that part of his life with him, and she couldn’t tell him about the times when her only toys were the stories she told herself. Not about the things and places she imagined when, as a small girl, she’d sat on the back porch of her parents’ modest home and tried to count the stars. Not when she’d talked to the owl that hooted nearby and cried a child’s pain when the bird didn’t respond. Schyler had lived in luxury by comparison, a luxury that was rightfully hers. She pulled her hand from his and jumped up from his precious log.

“What is it? What’s the matter, Veronica?”

“Nothing. It’s…Nothing. I…have to go. That’s all.”

He stood, and she swung away from him, fearing his touch. As she moved, she felt her right leg come out from under her, but as quickly, he grabbed her, breaking her fall, and a burst of heat skittered through her body when she realized his fingers were splayed across her right breast. Warm. Delicious. Arousing. She wanted him to caress her, to…She needed him to tighten his hold on her and love her. His breathing deepened, and she heard him suck in air. He didn’t move his hand, but he had to know it was there, where he wanted it to be. The thought kicked her pulse into overdrive and heat spiraled through her veins. Desire quickened her body and, as though he willed it, she raised her eyes and gazed into his—heated pools of blatant need, of hot undiluted want.

She should move, get out of his way. She had to…

“I’m not forcing you to stand here,” he said, his voice low. Guttural.

She wanted to move, but he kept looking at her like that, making her belly churn until her body wanted him to…to…“I’ve…I’ve got to—”

He didn’t spare her. “If you don’t want my mouth on you, say so. Right now.”

She stared into his fiery eyes, glittering pools of unbridled desire, and told herself to run while she still owned herself. At her hesitance, he lowered his head, tightened his grip on her body and stroked her breast possessively, as if he owned it.

“Part your lips for me, take me in and get what you want.” She told herself not to open her mouth, but her disobedient tongue danced around its edges and dampened her lips. She heard him suck in his breath in anticipation.

“Schyler. I…I’m—”

His mouth came down on hers, and frissons of heat pelted her feminine center. Her arms went around him and tightened, and his tongue plunged into her mouth with an expertise that shocked her and sent her blood racing like a wildfire out of control. His hands roamed her body, stroking, teasing, possessing, seducing. Making her his own. Beads of perspiration dampened her forehead, her nerve ends curled like lamb’s hair and the strength went out of her knees, but still he kissed her. She felt his lips tremble, but that didn’t stop him. No longer caring about the consequences, she grasped the back of his head and sucked on his tongue, feasting on it, loving him, taking all he offered. She gave no thought to his pagan groan as his hand squeezed, pinched and caressed her breast; she only wanted, needed his loving. He wrapped her tightly to him, taking her will and her energy, and she slumped in his arms.

They held each other, silently, unable to move and unwilling to articulate what they truly felt.

At last she got breath enough and sense enough to speak. “Schyler, this is…we can’t…I mean…Schyler, I don’t know, I—”

“Shhh. I know I took it too far, but I needed the feel of you in my arms. Badly.” He blew out a mass of air. “I didn’t dream it could be like this.”

He took her hand and started walking toward the car. “I hate to drop something that stirs me the way you do, but you’re going to force me to let it go.” He flexed his shoulders in a quick shrug. “And that may be for the best. But hell, it sticks in my craw like cracked glass.”

She didn’t attempt to coat the truth. “You’re right. We have to let it go, because it spells nothing for us but misery.”

He wanted more. “Will you admit, as I do, that under better circumstances, we…we…might have made memorable music together?”

She noticed that when he said it, he grinned as though savoring a delightful thought. And she knew she should be as honest as he, but no other man had exposed her naked need as he’d done, and she felt too vulnerable and finessed her reply.

“You’re attractive in many ways, Schyler. I respond to that.”

He laughed aloud. “I don’t suppose I had a right to expect more. We’d better get back. Dad’s got that chocolate soufflé ready by now.”

She gulped. “Chocolate soufflé? He can make that?”

“Yeah,” he said in a voice tinged with pride. “And does every time he cooks dinner.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

His laughter wrapped around her like a blanket of contentment. “Veronica, I love chocolate. I would eat chocolate soup, chocolate bread, chocolate anything for as long as anybody would give it to me or I could get it for myself. Dad humors me. I expect he’s tired of it. Every dessert cooked in that house has chocolate in it, and a lot of it.”

She couldn’t believe it. “He spoiled you.”

They reached the car, and he opened the door for her. “Yes, he spoiled me. When he met me, I was almost ten years old and couldn’t remember ever having heard the word love directed at me. He knew that.”

There it was again, and it would always be there, looming like a gallows between them. Her joviality was gone.