Suspicions: A Twist of Fate\Tears of Pride (29 page)

Sheila heard nothing over the resounding beat of her heart fluttering in her chest and thundering in her eardrums. She thought of nothing other than the cascading warmth and desire that were washing over her body in uneven passionate waves. Feelings of longing, yearning, desires that flamed heatedly, flowed through her as Noah kissed her. Involuntarily she reached up and wound her arms around his neck. The groan of satisfaction that rumbled in his throat gave her a deep, primeval pleasure, and when he pulled his lips from hers, she knew a deep disappointment.

He looked longingly into her eyes, asking her silent, unspoken questions that demanded answers she couldn’t ignore. How much did he want from her? What could she give—what would he take?

“Sheila, dear Sheila,” he murmured against her hair. It was whispered as a plea. She wanted him, ached for him, but remained silent.

His persuasive lips nuzzled against the column of her throat to linger at the inviting feminine bone structure at its base. His tongue drew lazy circles around Sheila’s erratic pulse, and Sheila felt as if her very soul were centered beneath his warm insistent touch. Her fingers entwined in the dark, coffee-colored strands of his hair, and she leaned backward, offering more of her neck…more of her being. When his wet tongue touched the center of her pulse, quicksilver flames darted through her veins, and she pushed herself more closely against his body.

His fingers found the buttons on her blouse, and cautiously he opened the top button. As he did so his head lowered, letting his lips caress the gaping space between the two pieces of silken cloth. Sheila moaned against him, asking for more of his gentle touch. He unbuttoned the next pearly fastener, and once more his lips dipped lower, touching her soft, warm flesh. Molten fire streamed through Sheila’s veins at his expert touch and in anticipation of his next move. His hot lips seared her skin, and she was not disappointed when his fingers unhinged an even lower button, parting the soft, rose-colored fabric and exposing the gentle swell of her breasts straining achingly against the flimsy barrier of her bra. When his mouth touched the edge of her bra, outlining the lace with the moistness of his tongue, she thought the ache within her would explode. His breath fanned heatedly over her sensitive skin, and she felt her breath come in short gasps. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room to keep her senses from swimming in the whirlpool of passion moving her closer to this man she had barely met and yet known a lifetime. She was drowning in his velvet-soft caresses, losing her breath with each passing instant of his arduous lovemaking.
Take me,
a voice within her wanted to scream, but the words never passed her lips.

She felt the wispy fabric of her blouse as he eased it gently past her shoulders, kissing her exposed neck and arms.

“Let me love you…” he moaned.

Her eyes, shining with a burning passion, yielded to his demands. But still the words froze in her throat.

Softly he pulled her out of the chair and gently eased her onto the carpet with the weight of his body. She felt the soft pile of the Persian rug against the bare skin of her back, and she knew that if she wanted to turn back, it would have to be soon, before all of the long-buried desire became alive again. His hands fitted warmly against her rib cage, outlining each individual bone with one of his strong, masculine fingers. A trembling sigh of submission broke from her lips.

He plunged his head between her breasts, softly imprinting his lips on the firm, white skin in the hollow. Her fingers traveled up his neck to hold his head protectively against her as one of his hands reached up to lovingly cup a breast. She took a quick intake of breath at the command of his touch. His fingers dipped seductively beneath the lace and her nipple tightened, expecting his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he moaned before kissing the soft fabric of her bra and teasing the nipple bound within the gossamer confinement of lace and satin. Sheila felt her breast swell with desire and a flood of foreign, long-lost emotions raced through her blood.

Gently Noah lowered the strap over her shoulder, and her breasts spilled from their imprisonment. He groaned as he massaged first one, and then the other. Sheila thought she would melt into the carpet as he kissed his way over the hill of one of the shapely mounds before taking it firmly in his mouth and gently soothing all of the bittersweet torment from her body.

“Let me make love to you, beautiful lady,” Noah whispered, quietly asking her to give in to him. “Let me make you mine,” he coaxed.

In response, Sheila felt her body arching upward to meet the weight of him. Whether it was wrong or right, she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.

“Sheila.” His voice was flooded with naked passion. “Come to bed with me.” Her only response was to moan softly against him.

Slowly he raised his head to stare into the depths of her desirous gray eyes. The red embers from the fire darkened his masculine features, making them seem harsher, more defined and angular in the bloodred shadows of the dimly lit room. His eyes never left hers, and they smoldered with a blue flame of passion that he was boldly attempting to hold at bay.

“Tell me you want me,” he persuaded in a raspy, breathless voice.

Her dark brows pulled together in frustration and confusion. Why was he pulling away from her? Of course she wanted him, needed him, longed to be a part of him. Couldn’t he
feel
the desperate intensity of her yearning?

“Tell me!” he again demanded, this time more roughly than before. Her eyes were shadowed; was there a flicker of doubt, a seed of mistrust in their misty gray depths? He had to know.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, trying to control her ragged breathing and erratic heartbeat. Had she misread him? Suddenly she was painfully aware of her partially nude condition, and the fact that he was
asking
rather than
taking
from her.

“I want to know that you feel what I’m feeling!”

“I…I don’t understand.”

His fingers, once gentle, tightened against the soft flesh of her upper arms and held her prisoner against the carpet. As he studied the elegant lines of her face, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Never had he been so impulsive, so rash, when it came to a woman. Why did this woman bewitch him so? Why did she make him feel more alive than he had in years? Was it the provocative turn of her chin, the light that danced in her eyes, the fresh scent of her hair? Why was he taken in by her beauty, which was in the same instant innocent and seductive? For the last sixteen years of his life he had cautiously avoided any commitment that might recreate the scene that had scattered his life in chaos. He had been careful, never foolhardy enough to fall for a woman again. But now, as he stared into Sheila’s wide, silver-colored eyes, he felt himself slipping into the same black abyss that had thrown his life into disorder long ago. Not since Marilyn had he allowed himself the luxury of becoming enraptured by a woman. And if he had been truthful, none he had met had deeply interested him. But tonight was different. Damn it, he was beginning to care for Sheila Lindstrom, though he knew little of her and couldn’t begin to understand her motives. How far could he trust such a lovely, bewitching creature as the woman lying desirously in his arms?

Noah’s death grip on Sheila relaxed. “I want you,” he said simply in a hoarse voice that admitted what he had felt from the first moment she had appeared on his doorstep.

“I know.” She sighed. She crossed her arms over her breasts, as if to shield herself from the truth. But her eyes met Noah’s unwaveringly. “I want you, too,” she conceded huskily.

The silence in the room was their only barrier, and yet Noah hesitated. “That’s not enough,” he admitted, wiping the sweat that had begun to bead on his upper lip. “There has to be more.”

Sheila shook her head slowly in confusion, and the sweep of her hair captured red-gold highlights from the flames. Try as she would, she couldn’t understand him. What was he saying? Was he rejecting her? Why? What had she done?

Noah witnessed the apprehension and agony in Sheila’s eyes and regretted that he was a part of her pain. He wanted to comfort her, to explain the reasons for his reservation, but was unable. How could he expect her to understand that he had loved a woman once in the past and that that love had been callously and bitterly sold to the highest bidder? Was it possible for Sheila to see what Marilyn had done to him when the bitch had put a price on her illegitimate son’s head when Sean was born? Was it fair for Noah to burden Sheila with the guilt and agony he had suffered because of his love for his child? No! Though he wanted to trust her, he couldn’t tell her about the part of his life he had shoved into a dark, locked corner of his mind. Instead, he took an easier, less painful avenue. “I get the feeling that you think I’m rushing things,” he whispered as he pressed a soft kiss against her hair.

She smiled wistfully and blushed. “It’s not your fault…I could have stopped you…I didn’t want to.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” he murmured quietly.

In the thickening silence, Sheila could sense Noah struggling with an inner battle, resisting the tide of passion that was pushing against him. She reached for her blouse, hoping to pull it back onto her body so she could leave this house…this man before he ignited the passions in her blood and she was once again filled with liquid fire. If possible she hoped to leave the quiet room and seductively intense man with whatever shreds of dignity she could muster.

“Wait!” he commanded as he realized she was preparing to leave. His broad hand grabbed her wrist, and the silken blouse once again fell to the floor.

Sheila felt her temper begin to flare, and the tears that had been threatening to spill burned in her throat. She was tired, and it had been a long, fruitless evening. She had accomplished nothing she had intended to do, and now she wasn’t sure if she was capable of working with Ben Wilder or his son. Too many emotions had come and gone with the intimate evening, too many secrets divulged. And yet, despite the growing sense of intimacy she felt with Noah, she knew there were deep, abysmal misconceptions that she couldn’t possibly bridge. “What, Noah?” she asked in a tense, raw whisper. “What do you want from me? All night long I’ve been on the receiving end of conflicting emotions.” Her breath was coming in short, uneven gasps. Tears threatened to spill. “One minute you want me and the next…you don’t. Just let me go home, for God’s sake!”

“You’re wrong!”

“I doubt that!” She pulled her hand free of the gentle manacle of his grip, scooted silently away from him, snatched up the blouse and quickly stretched her arms through the sleeves. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, so intent was she on getting out of the house as rapidly as possible…away from the magnetism of his eyes…away from the charm of his dimpled, slightly off-center smile…away from the warm persuasion of his hands….

Noah dragged himself into a sitting position before standing up and leaning against the warm stones of the fireplace. He let his forehead fall into the palm of his hand as he tried to think things out rationally. The entire scene was out of character for him. What the devil had he done, seducing this woman he had barely met? Why was she so responsive to his touch? He knew instinctively that she wasn’t the type of woman who fell neatly into a stranger’s arms at the drop of a hat, and yet she was here, in his home, warm, inviting, yielding to the gentle coaxing of his caresses. His mouth pulled into a grim frown. How did he let himself get mixed up with her…whoever she was? And what were her motives? “Don’t go,” he said unevenly, turning to face her.

She had managed to get dressed and was putting on her raincoat. She paused for only a second before hiking the coat over her shoulders and unsteadily tying the belt. “I think it would be best.”

“I want you to stay, here, tonight, with me.”

Sheila took in a long, steadying breath. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you well enough.”

“But if you don’t stay, how will you ever…‘know me well enough’?” he countered. He stood away from her, not touching her. It was her mind he wanted, as well as her body.

“I need time….” she whispered, beginning to waver. She had to get out, away from him. Soon, before it was too late.

He took a step toward her. “We’re both adults. It’s not as if this would be a first for either of us. You have a daughter and I have a son.”

She paused, but only slightly. “That doesn’t change things. Look, Noah, you know as well as I that I would like to fall into bed and sleep with you. But…I just can’t….” She blushed in her confusion. “I can’t just hop into bed with any man I find attractive…. Oh, this is coming out all wrong.” She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to meet his. They were steady and strong, though tears had begun to pool in their gray-blue depths. “What I’m trying to say,” she managed bravely, “is that I don’t have casual affairs.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve never slept with any man, other…other than Jeff.”

“Your ex-husband,” Noah surmised with a tightening of his jaw.

Sheila nodded.

“It doesn’t matter,” Noah said with a shrug.

“Of course it does. Don’t you see? I almost tumbled into bed with you…on the first night I’d met you. That’s not like me, not at all… I don’t even know you.”

His scowl lifted, and an amused light danced in his eyes. “I think you know me better than you’re willing to admit.”

“I’d like to,” she conceded.

“But?”

It was her turn to smile. “I’m afraid, I guess.”

“That I won’t live up to your expectations?”

“Partially.”

“What else?”

“That I won’t live up to yours.”

Chapter 5

Noah took a step toward her, leaving only inches to separate their bodies. “I doubt that you would ever disappoint me,” he whispered. His fingers softly traced the line of her jaw and then continued on a downward path past her neck to rest at the top button of her coat. Easily it slipped through the buttonhole.

Sheila sucked in her breath as Noah took each button in turn. When he reached her belt, he worked on the knot with both of his hands. Sheila felt fires of expectation dance within her while his incredibly blue eyes held hers in a passionate embrace.

The coat parted. Noah’s hands moved beneath it and found her breasts. A small sigh came unexpectedly from her lips, and Sheila knew that she wanted Noah more desperately than she had ever wanted any man. It had been so long since she had been held in a man’s embrace. As Noah’s thumbs began drawing delicious circles against the sheer fabric of her blouse, Sheila told herself that he was different from Jeff. He wouldn’t hurt her. He
cared.

The soft coaxing of Noah’s fingertips made Sheila weak with longing. She leaned against him, tilted her head and parted her lips in silent invitation. Warm lips claimed hers and Noah’s arms encircled her, crushing her against him. His tongue probed into her mouth to find its mate and touch her more intimately. Sheila wanted more of this mysterious man.

When he guided her to the floor, it was her hands that parted his shirt and touched the tense, hard muscles of his chest. It was her lips that kissed his eyes as he undressed her. She felt the warmth of his hands as each article of her clothing was silently removed.

It felt so good to touch him. Her fingers traced the outline of each of his muscles on his back and crept seductively down the length of his spine. When her fingertips touched the waistband of his pants, she hesitated. How much would he expect from her—how much did he want?

“Undress me,” he persuaded, his eyes closing and his breath becoming shallow. “Please, Sheila, undress me.”

She couldn’t resist. He groaned as she unclasped the belt and gently pushed his pants over his hips. She stopped when she encountered his briefs.

“Take them off,” he commanded, guiding her hand to the elastic band of his shorts. She paused, and he read the uncertainty in her eyes. He smiled wickedly to himself.

Slowly his hands moved over her breasts, massaging each white globe until the rosy tip hardened with desire. He teased her with the soft, whispering play of his fingers against her skin. “You’re exquisite,” he whispered as his head bent and his tongue touched the tip of her breast, leaving a moist droplet of dew on the nipple.

Sheila moaned in pleasure as the cold air touched the wet nipple, and she once again craved the sweet pressure of his mouth against her skin. As if to comply, he again lowered his head and ran his tongue over the soft hills of her breasts, lingering only long enough over her nipples to warm and then leave them.

Sheila felt a hot, molten coil begin to unwind within her and race like liquid fire through her veins. His kisses touched her breasts and then lowered to caress the soft skin of her abdomen. Lazily his tongue rimmed her navel, and Sheila felt her hips shift upward, pressing against his chest, demanding more from him.

“Please,” she whispered hoarsely.

Noah was trying to control himself, to give as well as get pleasure. He was vainly fighting a losing battle with his passion. The last thing he wanted to do was come on like some horny college kid. Already, though he couldn’t explain it, Sheila was important to him, and he wanted to please her. It had been difficult, but he had restrained himself to the point where he thought he would burst from the aching frustration in his loins.

Sheila’s eyes reached for his, begging him to end her torture and take her. He could resist no longer. He slipped out of his shorts and lay beside her. The length of his body was pressed against hers, and his need for her was unhidden.

“I want to love you, Sheila,” he whispered into her ear, while his hands cupped and stroked her breast.

“Yes.”

“I want to make love to you and never stop….”

She sighed her willingness. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and the musky smell of brandy mingled with the scent of burning moss. Everything about the night seemed so right. She moved her legs and parted his. A strong, masculine hand pressed against her abdomen and forced her more intimately against him. Her body seemed to mold against his. It was as if she could feel each part of him, and she had to have more.

His hands moved leisurely up and down the length of her body, touching her breasts softly with his fingertips and then pressing a moist palm to her inner thighs with rough, demanding pressure. Involuntarily her legs parted, and she felt the heated moisture of his lips as he kissed each vertebra of her spine. Sharp, heated needles of desire pierced her when at last he gently rolled her onto her back and positioned himself above her.

Beads of sweat moistened his upper lip and forehead. His dark brow was furrowed, as if he were fighting an inner turmoil. The fire’s glow gave his skin a burnished tint and his blue eyes had deepened to inky black. In a ragged breath, with more control than he had thought possible, he whispered, “Sheila, are you sure that this is what you want?” He grimaced, as if in pain, against a possible rejection.

She wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him down upon her. Her breasts flattened with the weight of his torso. “I’m sure,” she returned, caught up in the raw passion of the night.

With a growl of satisfaction he parted her legs with his knees and came to her to find that she was as ready as he. Never had he felt so desperate with need of a woman—not just any woman, but
this
woman with the mysterious gray eyes and the softly curving, voluptuous mouth. This woman with the vibrant chestnut hair that caught the reflection of the fire’s glow and framed an intelligent, evenly featured face. As he moved with her, attempting to withhold the violent burst of energy within him, he found himself falling more desperately under her bewitching spell. What was happening to him?

Sheila moaned beneath him, and the tension mounting steadily within him threatened to explode. He didn’t care who she was, he had to have her. With a sudden rush of heat, he ignited into a flame that consumed the both of them. Sheila’s answering shudder told him that she, too, had felt the ultimate consummation.

He lay upon her, continuing to kiss her cheeks while running his fingers through her hair. She looked at him through eyes still shining in afterglow. “Oh, Noah,” she sighed contentedly.

“Shhh….” He placed his finger to her lips to quiet her and reached behind him to pull a knitted afghan off the couch. Still holding her in his arms, he wrapped the soft blanket over their bodies. “Don’t say anything,” he whispered quietly.

Sheila wanted to stay with him. It was so warm and comfortable in the shelter of his arms. But as the afterglow faded and the reality of what she had done hit her, she was horrified. A deep crimson flush climbed steadily up her throat. What was she doing lying naked with a man she had only met a few hours earlier? What had happened to her common sense? It was true that Noah had surprised her with his commanding masculinity and seductive blue eyes, but that was no excuse for making love to him. It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed it—quite the opposite. The passion that had risen in her was wilder than she had ever imagined, and even now she could feel her body stirring with traitorous longings at the nearness of this enigmatic man. She tried to loosen herself from the strength of his embrace.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I think I’d better leave.”

“Why?”

“This is all wrong,” she began, trying to slide away from him. His fingers clamped over her shoulders.

“This could
never
be
wrong.
” The afghan slipped, exposing one swollen breast. He kissed the soft, ripe mound.

Sheila trembled at his touch. “Don’t,” she pleaded.

“Why not?” His rich voice had taken on a rough tone.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Don’t leave.”

She pushed her palms against his chest. “Noah…please….”

“Please what?”

“Please let me go.”

“Later.”

“Now!” Her voice quivered, and she felt tears of frustration burning in her throat. She longed to stay with him, feel his weight upon her, fall victim to his lovemaking. But she couldn’t.

“We have the rest of the night.”

“No…no, we don’t,” she said waveringly. Her gray eyes lifted to his and begged him to understand.

Slowly he released her and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “What is this, some latent Victorian morality?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, not really.” She pulled the afghan over the exposed breast, feeling a little less vulnerable under the soft covering.

“Sheila.” His finger reached out and carefully raised her chin so she could meet his confused gaze. “We’re in the 1980s.”

“I know.”

“But?”

“I just need time, that’s all,” she blurted out. How could she possibly explain her confused jumble of emotions. He was so close. She had only to stretch her hand and touch him to reignite the fires of desire. She shuddered and reached for her clothes.

“How much time?”

“I don’t know… I don’t understand any of this.”

“Don’t try.”

Sheila closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to clear her mind. “Look, Noah. I don’t even know you, and I’m really not sure that I
want
to know you this well.”

“Why not?” he persisted.

She struggled into her blouse. “You and I, whether we like it or not, are business partners.”

“Don’t give me any of that sanctimonious and overused line about not mixing business and pleasure.”

“I don’t think of sex as pleasure!”

An interested black eyebrow cocked mockingly. “You’re not going to try and convince me that you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

“No.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t believe you. Now, what’s this all about?”

“When I said that I don’t consider sex to be pleasurable, I meant
merely
pleasurable. Of course I enjoyed making love with you; I’d be a fool to try and deny it. The point is, I don’t go in for ‘casual sex’ for the sake of pleasure…or any other reason.”

“And you think that I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sure you do,” he replied seductively. “I’m willing to bet that you know more about me than you’re admitting.”

“That’s no excuse for hopping into bed with you.”

“You don’t need an excuse, Sheila. Just stay with me tonight. Do it because you want to.”

“I can’t.” She had managed to pull on all of her clothes and stand upright. Noah didn’t move. He sat before the fire, his chin resting on his knees, but his eyes never let go of hers.

“Do whatever it is that you think you must,” he whispered.

Sheila swallowed a lump that had been forming in her throat. She pulled on her raincoat and wondered if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. “Goodbye, Noah,” she murmured. “I’ll…I’ll talk to you later….” She ran out of the house before he could answer and before she could change her mind.

Noah waited and listened to the sounds of her leaving. The front door closed, and a car engine coughed before catching and fading into the night. When he realized that Sheila wasn’t coming back, he straightened and pulled on his pants. He was more disturbed by his reaction to her than anything else. How could she have so easily gotten under his skin? Had all of the pressures of the office made him such an easy prey to a beautiful woman? There had to be more to it than met the eye. Why had she so easily responded to his touch? What the hell did she want from him—certainly more than a quick one-night stand. Or did she? He had thought that she had been hinting that she wanted out of the partnership with Wilder Investments. But when he had suggested buying her out, she had seemed indignant, as if she had already anticipated his offer and was more than ready to discard it before hearing the exact price.

Noah’s clear blue eyes clouded with suspicion. Without thinking, he reached for the brandy bottle and poured himself a drink. He took a long swallow before swirling the amber liquor in the glass and staring into the glowing coals. What was Sheila Lindstrom’s game?

Disregarding the fact that it was after two in the morning, Noah walked over to the desk and picked up the telephone. He looked up a number and with only a second’s hesitation dialed it. Several moments and nine rings later a groggy voice mumbled an indistinct greeting.

“Simmons?” Noah questioned curtly. “This is Noah Wilder.”

There was a weighty pause on the other end of the line. Noah could imagine the look of astonishment crossing the detective’s boyish face. “Something I can do for you?” Simmons asked cautiously. He hadn’t dealt much with Ben Wilder’s son, especially not in the middle of the night. Something was up.

“I want a report on the Cascade Valley Winery fire.”

“I’m working on it.”

Noah interrupted. “Then it’s not complete?” he asked sternly.

“Not quite.”

“Why not?”

The wheels in Simmons’s mind began to turn. Wilder was agitated and angry. Why? “It’s taken a little longer than expected.”

“I need it now,” Noah rejoined. His words were tainted with mistrust; Anthony Simmons could feel the suspicion that hung on the telephone line.

“I can have a preliminary report on your desk tomorrow afternoon,” he suggested smoothly.

“And the final?”

“That will take a little longer.”

“How much longer?”

“A week or two I’d guess,” Simmons responded evasively.

“I can’t wait that long! What’s the hang-up?” Noah inquired. He waited for the slick excuses, but they didn’t come.

“I’d like some time to check out the winery myself. You know, look for a few skeletons hanging in some locked closets….”

Noah debated. He didn’t like the thought of Anthony Simmons being in such close proximity to Sheila. He had never completely trusted his father’s private detective. However, he saw no other recourse; Noah needed information—and fast. Anthony Simmons could get it for him. “All right,” Noah heard himself saying, “go to the winery and see what you can find out. Tell the manager, her name is Sheila Lindstrom, that you work for Wilder Investments and that you’re trying to speed up the arson investigation in order to get the insurance money.”