Authors: Mary Margret Daughtridge

SEALed with a Ring (16 page)

BOOK: SEALed with a Ring

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He met the issue head on, without flinching. He even met it with bravado, but she had already seen his vulnerability around it. His question wasn't about van ity. He had never drawn his self-worth from his beauty. But in a burst of insight, she understood he had used it as a shield, as armor for his heart.

Men's hearts were more delicate than women's, and she suspected his heart was softer than most. While he had his unmarred beauty, he had never had to expose his heart and thus become vulnerable.

Merry.
It wasn't a word people used much anymore. Because he'd had so much less to lose than most people, it's what he had been. Merry. Coming at life, coming at her with such gaiety, such promise of fun—did he but know it, it had been the greatest part of his attraction.

In time, he'd probably grow some calluses over his heart. People did. But he didn't have them now. Though she would have run from him, would have put any bar rier between herself and the danger of what he was sug gesting, she could not use the scar.

"I didn't say 'more handsome.' Before you looked… I don't know… too perfect or something. Like you inhab ited a different plane of existence. Now you look… real."

Before, she'd only had to recall her responsibilities t
o walk away from the devastatingly handsome and charm ing man he had been. She wouldn't be able to walk away from this man who would marry her if she would look after his little brother.

There must be something else he wanted. Something that would allow them to come to an agreement. She stalled for time.

"Let's talk about it in the morning, shall we?" She turned toward the back stairs. "Let's go upstairs and pick you out a bedroom."

"Pick out a bedroom?" he laughed as they moved up the stairs side by side. "How many are there?"

"Not counting mine, three. One on this side of the staircase, two on the other."

He pointed to the room straight ahead, door open. "What is that room?"

"Mine—it
was
mine."

"Can I see it?" He was already in the doorway.

"Sure, go on in."

"It's huge. It's bigger than my apartment." He had wanted to see this room because he was looking for some trace of her in this house she had lived in over half her life.

This room was so serious. No hint of the little girl or the teenager she had been lingered here. No trace of exuberant enthusiasm, no dreams, no leftover teenaged angst.

He contrasted it with his sister Elle's room where beloved dolls and stuffed toys were still given space on a shelf, the walls rocked with bold energy of posters, and child-sized skis and poles leaned in a corner.

JJ's heart thumped and skipped to see him in her old bedroom. He touched the bedspread and moved a cur tain to peer out the dark window.

JJ had accepted Smiley's absence from the rest of the house, but she never entered this room without expecting to see him get up from the floor to greet her. Something must have showed in her face.

"What is it?"

"My dog. He died the day before I moved to the beach house. I always miss him most in this room."

"Did he sleep with you?"

She smiled a touch guiltily. "Most nights. My grand mother wanted him to sleep in the garage, but I had nightmares without him. Anyway, he slept with me until his arthritis got too bad and he couldn't jump up anymore. Then his bed was right here."

"By yourself in this big, lonely room? It would give any kid nightmares."

"You think this room is lonely?"

A quick flick of his eyes dismissed the room. "I think you're lonely."

"I don't have time to be lonely."

He might have lived at a distance from his own, but he knew what a family was. No family lived in this house. The only emotional security, the only warmth, the only unconditional love JJ had known in this house, had come from a dog. And yet she showed no signs of being emotionally stunted. She wasn't greedy, miserly, or self-absorbed. She was amazing.

He traced the smooth curve of her cheek with one finger. "Time has nothing to do with it."

After a long moment in which he thought about kissing her and decided not to—if he started he wasn't going to stop—he turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning."

She came out of her daze. "Wait. We didn't pick you out a room."

"Find me a pillow and blanket. I can nap on the sofa in your grandfather's room."

"Oh, yes, of course." She went to a linen closet and came back with the requested items. "I'm not thinking very clearly. I also forgot to discuss how much I'm pay ing you for staying with him."

Just when he thought they were reaching some kind of understanding, there she went with the money again. "Five hundred thousand," he snapped.

"But that's—"

"The amount you were going to pay me to marry you. I've already told you," he spoke through gritted teeth. "I don't want your money."

JJ blinked. "I was
going
to say, 'That's outrageous.' But I see now I offended you by offering to pay you. That was clumsy of me. Forgive me."

There was just the right amount of contrition in her voice, just the right amount of winsomeness in her smile. She was all contained again. Shit. He wished he hadn't popped off at her. He respected the hell out of her ability to control her emotions, but he didn't want her to suppress her reactions around him. He admired the strength, the self-control, the willingness to shoulder responsibilities far beyond her years. Still, she might as well learn that maintaining a cool, restrained exterior would not keep him at a distance.

Her arms were full of blanket and pillow. Perfect. He leaned forward and found her lips with his. After a shocked moment, hers softened and parted just enough to give him a hint of her taste. He wanted more, much more, but, for now, he had made his point. He forced himself to pull back. "Forget it. No harm done. Get some sleep."

Chapter 28

UNABLE TO SLEEP, UNABLE TO LIE STILL ANY LONGER, JJ threw back the sheet. The rain had ended. Cold patches of moonlight draped her legs. JJ loved the feeling of moonlight on her bare skin. She'd read an article once about the pagan religion Wicca. Most of the beliefs were foreign to her way of thinking, but at some primal level she understood the Wiccan custom of dancing naked at the full of the moon.

It was too cold to go outside, but when they remod eled the house, JJ's grandparents had added an indoor pool with tall Palladian windows down one wall and skylights. The pool area would glow with moonlight, and nothing relaxed her as swimming did.

She swung out of bed and went to the built-in draw ers of her closet for a swimsuit. All her tank suits were at the beach house, and she discarded the bikinis she found as too uncomfortable to swim in. She was ready to reject a moonlight swim as unfeasible when it oc curred to her to wonder why she needed a suit at all. She put on an old, wine-red hoodie beach cover-up and headed for the stairs.

The pool had been added at the same time as her grandparents' downstairs master suite. It was accessed through a short tiled hallway in their wing. JJ listened carefully as she passed her grandfather's door. There were no signs that anyone was awake.

The latch on the door to the pool area made a heavy clicking sound when she turned the knob. To silence it she quickly depressed it with her finger as she edged around the door. On the other side, she very slowly re leased the knob. There was still a small click, but she doubted it was enough to wake anyone.

As she had thought, silvery sheets of moonlight made the area more than light enough to see. She unzipped her jersey cover-up and tossed it over a deck chair before slipping into the water.

David woke to sharp, shooting pain on the left side of his face. He fought the upwelling of despair. Two weeks had passed since his latest surgery. He had been free of pain all day and had allowed hope that the pain was finally going away to steal in. He was already on the thin edge of remaining a SEAL, since the repetitive jarring of spine and skull when he ran made the pain worse. If the pain didn't get better, the next thing the docs would want to try would be anticonvulsants. That would finish him.

The pain wasn't bad yet. Dwelling on the grim possibility that he'd be forced to leave the Teams wouldn't help.

JJ wanted him because he was a SEAL. He hadn't told her that was by no means a sure thing. Anyway, if she wanted a husband who stayed gone, he could ar range that. The important thing was that his brothers and sister would be taken care of. In the bathroom, he helped himself to two aspirin and checked his patient. Lucas was sleeping so deeply he didn't rouse as David gently felt for his pulse. It was strong and steady.

A metallic click, like from a door latch, came from the hall. He looked out in time to see a shadowy figure on the other side of the translucent glass door that opened to the indoor pool. No lights came on. JJ or a housebreaker? He needed to make sure. He hastily pulled on jeans and, shirtless and barefoot, let himself into the hall.

Someone was in the pool. As soon as he opened the pool door, he could hear faint splashing sounds.

Moonlight streaming in the tall Palladian windows on the south wall rendered the scene in silver and black.

"Don't turn the lights on." JJ's voice, pitched to bounce as little as possible, came from a patch of shadow.

"Why not?" Realization dawned. "Oh." A grin spread over his face. This was better than he had any right to hope for. Water and darkness were a SEAL's friend, but it was almost too good if she was already naked. "Good idea. I think I'll join you." His hands went to the zipper of the jeans.

"If you'll give me a minute, I'll get out. You can have the pool to yourself."

"Pool's big enough for both of us." He shucked jeans and briefs together.

"Don't dive!" Seeing that her protests didn't stop him, she warned him hastily. "It's too shallow."

He hadn't been going to, but he appreciated the warn ing. He let himself over the side without making a ripple. He had achieved the first part of his aim. He was in the water before she could organize her resistance. Now he needed to lull her. "How deep is the deep end?"

"Seven feet."

She was in the pool's back corner in a patch of shadow. Lucky for him, he had better night vision than most. The light-colored and hard surfaces all around reflected light almost as well as sound. The dark shape of her head, the glisten of her eyes, was perfectly visible. Keeping close to the wall, he glided slowly toward the deep end.

"No. Stay there. Don't come closer."

"Don't you know you shouldn't be swimming with out a…" he let the taunt trail away.

"A what?"

"A… buddy," he supplied, full of innocence. "I'll just be your buddy, here to save you if you get into trouble. Don't worry. I'll stay on this side. You stay over there." What a liar he was.
Oh, he was bad,
he thought without a trace of remorse.

"I think you
are
the trouble."

"Nah. We'll swim laps. Plenty of room for two swim mers side by side." He put a hint of challenge in his voice. "I'll race you."

"We have to be quiet," she objected. "The crawl will make too much noise."

"All right. You choose. Breaststroke or underwater?"

Her head disappeared. His cheek pulled as he allowed himself a smile. She had taken the bait without ever seeing the hook. He took a deep breath and went under himself. Underwater she was visible.

She was halfway down the pool, not desperate for air yet. The water at eighty-two degrees was a silky caress over her breasts, her belly, her buttocks. Especially her buttocks. Eddies titillated her most sensitive tissues. Sud denly she knew
he
was doing it. She couldn't imagine how, but he
was
. If she hesitated and she was wrong, she was going to lose the race to the shallow end—she had no chance without a head start. She felt the lightest, but unmistakable, brush of fingers. Reflexively, she drew her legs up and twisted in the water to find his grinning face no more than a hand's width away.

The concentration it took to suppress the urge to breathe was broken. She gasped water. Her trachea burned. She squeezed her throat against the urge to cough. She had only an instant to surface before the need to cough would overwhelm her conscious control. Almost before she could take in her danger, strong hands grasped her rib cage and shot her to the surface.

While she coughed and sputtered, her eyes streaming, he kept one strong, warm arm around her and guided her to the side.

"Relax." He took her hand and placed it on the rough, dry, unpainted, cement coping. There was a sensitivity to the action, a deep understanding of what would reassure her body, that in that moment changed something. He might try her patience a thousand ways, disturb her, and shake her up, but he knew what it took to make her safe.

"You're okay." The arm around her wasn't needed now, but he kept it there anyway, and she was glad. His skin was warmer than the water. "Relax. Just let yourself breathe." He lifted a hank of hair away from her face, and then another one, until he could look into her eyes. "Okay now?"

He had taken them to a patch of moonlight. His irises were colorlessly dark but even clearer than usual—eyes one could literally look into. His clumped, spiky, ab surdly long and thick lashes radiated like a dark sunburst. There was concern in his eyes and also the avid glint of hunting instinct.

She wiped water out of her eyes. "You
made
me do that!"

His grin was unrepentant, in fact, satisfied. "Not the breathing water part. You did that on your own. See there. I told you, you needed a swim buddy."

Breasts floated, and wasn't that one of the best ideas God ever had? He wanted to feel them mold against his chest, but it was too soon. Anyway, from this distance he could see them while keeping his eyes on her face.

The conical mounds gleamed white, chased with sil ver where water streamed across them. He loved breasts, the soft firm feel of them, the way they were cool on their tops and warm underneath. The texture change between skin and areola.

Her areolas were dark—just like he knew they would be. They played dark peekaboo as bright water first lapped over them, then receded with every breath. Breasts clothed in dark water. The déjà vu feeling nudged at the base of his skull again. He didn't have a poetic bone in his body, but he knew he'd had that thought before. Chasing it, he let his eyes drop.

She gave a gasp of disgust and slapped one arm across her chest. Fortunately, it didn't do much good.

"You jerk!"

"You're the one swimming naked."

"Alone!"

"You stayed."

"I could hardly get out."

"Yes, you could. You're not embarrassed to be naked."

"How do you know that?" The challenge surprised him with its sharpness.

He gave her a knowing grin. "Don't deny it." Truth was, he didn't know how he knew, but he did.

"Just because I enjoy swimming naked doesn't mean I'm immodest."

"Hell, no. It means you enjoy your body. You like mov ing and letting air or water touch every inch of it." She was listening now, eyes wide. He wasn't sure what he had said that had gotten her attention, but he decided to go with it. "It feels good," he put the full import of what he meant by
good in his voice, "doesn't it? It can feel even better.
"

Above the quiet lapping of water, he heard her breath hitch. She was responding to his arousal—he knew it better than he knew the feel of his own heartbeat.
Now
was the moment to kiss her. This moment wasn't about dominance or bending her to his will. Now he could invite her to love play.

He cupped her shoulder, relishing the vital, pulsing with-feminine-power feel of her. He skimmed his hand over her shoulder and up her neck. "I love how good your body feels," he murmured, "and I love knowing it feels just as good to you."

He drew her to him, letting them both savor the extra sensual dimension the water added. The suddenness of added heat, skin clinging to skin. How good it felt to know he wasn't taking or demanding. He was giving his desire to her. When their lips met, it was to further mingle their delight with twining tongues and toying nips.

Her long, strong fingers restlessly kneaded muscles on his back and then dug into his shoulders so that she could take advantage of the buoyancy of the water to stroke herself against him side to side, up and down, and in sinuous belly-dancer moves. With exquisite control, she made sure his erection received full attention. He caught the two globes of her buttocks in his hands, in sinuating his fingers between the silken folds, letting her move but staying with her so that a teasing touch from him was added to her every movement.

She made a sound, a tiny gurgle of delight. He wasn't sure she knew she did it, but it filled up his chest and made him feel like the king of everything.

He hadn't come this far to fail to render this goddess her full homage. He wanted to see her, to fill his hands with the bounty of her breasts, to draw the nipples deep into his mouth. Still, he'd rather not drown himself while he did it. He clamped his hands on either side of her rib cage and lifted her out of the water. "Extend your arms along the gutter," he commanded.

"Why? What are you going to do?"

"You know what I'm going to do."

As if her hands had a will of their own, she felt for the slick, curved tiles of the overflow channel with one hand and then the other. Warm water lapped over her arms and made soft slurping, sloshing sounds. The position arched her back and lifted her breasts above the surface. With her body no longer vertical in the water, her legs wanted to float.

Before she could think of what to do with them, he calmly stepped between her legs and pulled them around his waist. She could feel the thickness of his arousal, its heat, against her buttocks. With his thumbs, he opened her so that the swollen center of her excitement was in full contact with him. Something about the sheer compe tence of the move penetrated the hypnotic sensual haze that his voice had sent her into.

"You've done it in a pool before." She pulled her legs away and stood. If the water didn't cover her, so what? Once again, she had been
this close
to giving in, just going with the flow, letting the tide take her—just like before. What this man could do to her should be illegal.

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