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Another couple danced too close and he had to move her out of the way. By the time she fell back into step, she hoped he’d let the subject of her marriage go.
He didn’t.
His eyes snagged hers, almost accusingly. “Why aren’t you wearing any rings?”
She’d known he’d noticed. “I’ve taken them off temporarily. They were too tight in the heat.”
Those blue eyes gave her the laser treatment. “You knew I thought you were available.”
Her lips twisted. “You probably think every woman is available.”
“Aren’t they?” he mocked.
She sucked in a sharp breath at his arrogance. The road to Sydney must be littered with women who threw themselves at him, but that was no excuse for—
Just then, she saw Cindy standing near the kitchen door carrying her son. “Josh!” She immediately forgot Kirk as she left his arms and hurried over to the babysitter. “Is something wrong? What’s the matter?” She didn’t know what she’d do if anything happened to him.
“I think he heard your voice before. He started crying and won’t settle.” Cindy pulled a face. “I’m sorry to drag you away.”
“Don’t be,” Vanessa said, lifting Josh in her arms, relieved he wasn’t sick. His eyes were wet from crying. She kissed his cheek and smoothed the blond hair off his forehead. “How’s Toby?”
“Sound asleep,” Cindy said. “I’d better get back to him. Do you want me to take Josh back? He might settle now that he’s seen you.”
“No, that’s fine. I think I’ll take him home now.” It was getting late and she needed no better excuse to get out of here.
Cindy nodded, then disappeared through the kitchen door.
Vanessa hugged Josh closer, smelling his soft, sweet scent. “Time to take you home and put you to bed, little man.” She turned around to find Linda or Hugh and tell them that she was leaving so they wouldn’t worry.
She froze. Kirk. He’d followed her.
His eyes had an odd glitter. “He’s yours?”
She swallowed then nodded, proud of her son but feeling the awkwardness of the moment.
“I’ll carry him for you,” he said in a brusque voice.
She stiffened. “No, the apartment’s only out the back.”
“You could fall over in those heels,” he said, making her aware he missed nothing about her.
Suddenly she had to get out of here … away from the restaurant … away from Kirk Deverill. She had to keep a physical distance, if only to maintain an emotional one.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
He said something low under his breath. “I insist.” His eyes held hers. He wasn’t going to give up.
She expelled a shaky sigh. “Okay, but I have to find Linda first and tell her I’ve gone.”
“She’s over near the bar.”
She looked and saw Linda near the bar, standing beneath the Happy Anniversary banner. Her cousin waved at them and Vanessa indicated she was taking Josh home, and received a speculative look and a nod of acknowledgment.
Then she let Kirk lift Josh from her arms, half expecting Josh to cry—and wishing he would—only he didn’t. Then she and Kirk left via the kitchen. Phyllis and a waitress looked up as they passed through, but Vanessa gave a bright smile and hoped she wasn’t tomorrow’s gossip. And if she was then it was only one person’s fault.
His.
Looking directly ahead, she didn’t talk as her high heels tapped along the well-lit driveway until they came to the converted garage. Once inside the apartment, she waited until Kirk placed Josh in his crib, then she tucked her son in and moved back into the living room. She saw Kirk’s gaze as he took in the room with its polished wood floor, comfortable sofa and handmade cushions.
For a long moment his blue eyes rested on the wedding photograph of her and Mike, who’d been so handsome in his policeman’s uniform.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thanks for carrying Josh for me.”
He drew his gaze away from the photograph and looked at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “No problem.”
Trying to look experienced at this sort of thing, she walked toward him and held out her hand. “I guess this is good night.”
His hand slid over hers like a glove. “I guess it is.”
She realized her mistake then. She hadn’t wanted to touch him. Hadn’t wanted to feel his skin against her own, not even in the most casual way.
And she knew that wasn’t true.
She wanted to touch him.
And there would be nothing cavalier about it.
Something must have shown on her face because he gave a sharp intake of breath. The next instant he brought her hand to his mouth and ever so slowly he kissed the inside of her wrist.
Heat arrowed into her belly, igniting her blood like she had never known before, not even with Mike. Loving Mike had been simple and uncomplicated. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t be like that with Kirk.
He dropped her hand and stepped back. “Goodbye, Vanessa,” he said thickly, and moved toward the front door.
Then he was gone.
The door shut behind him.
She stood there shaking. Then, stunned by what just one touch could do to her, she collapsed on the couch, her thoughts tumbling down like the house made of straw. Now that she was alone, she wanted him back, wanted him to touch her more, make love to her.
Oh, Lord. What was the matter with her? Mike was still her husband in her heart; meanwhile she longed to hop into bed with the first good-looking man that had come along. What had happened to remaining true to Mike’s memory? The father of her child. Kirk Deverill dredged up emotions she intended to keep hidden. Emotions of desire and need that shouldn’t be there. Her husband had only been dead six months. How could she yearn to be held close by someone else so soon? A stranger no less.
Her heart squeezed with pain but she didn’t cry. The season had come and gone for more tears.
And this feeling for Kirk?
It, too, would pass.
An hour later Vanessa still hadn’t fallen asleep. She felt wound up, like a mouse running around one of those exercise wheels. Perhaps a few slow laps of the pool would relax her.
Pushing herself out of bed, she peeked out her bedroom window. The glow of night-lights showed the pool area empty of people, with most of the motel guests having retired for the night and others still at the party on the other side of the motel. With the pool close enough to keep an eye on her apartment, she didn’t need any further encouragement to slip into her one-piece swimsuit.
Five minutes later, pleased that out here the party sounded as though it had wound down some and that Kirk would probably have left, she dropped her towel on a deck chair and carefully descended the steps at the corner of the pool.
As she eased in up to her neck, ripples fanned out around her and the reflections of the dimmed lights gently bounced over the surface of the water. For a few seconds she enjoyed the anointment, the warm lotion of the water massaging her body, helping her to unwind.
Then she kicked off from the wall of the pool and started to swim, keeping as quiet as possible as she sliced smoothly through the water, not wanting anyone to join her and spoil this for her.
Twenty laps later she felt tired but at last she felt refreshed. Rolling onto her back in the middle of the pool, she looked up at the night sky. The darkened shape of a bird flew across the silhouette of the moon. Stars twinkled down on her from a bed of velvet. An owl hooted in the distance. This was the life. She could so get used to—
“You came to Jackaroo Plains for a reason, didn’t you?” a deep male voice said.
She swallowed water and began to choke. Her peace shattered, she tried to catch her breath as her feet touched the bottom of the pool to stand up. In a dimly lit area in the corner, Kirk sat on one of the deck chairs. Had he been there all along?
“Are you following me?” she demanded.
“No. I was out here already.”
Her breath suspended in midair. The thought of him watching her slowly step into the pool surrounded by night-lights, seeing her body outlined by the one-piece she wore, made her quiver inside.
“And you didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her.
“What question was that?”
“You came here to help get over your grief, didn’t you? That’s why Linda’s so concerned about you.”
No need to tell him about her in-laws. It was none of his business. “Linda worries too much.”
He got to his feet and strolled toward the pool. “So what will you do when they sell the motel? Go back to Sydney?”
She didn’t know what she was going to do. “I’m working on something now,” she fibbed, not wanting him to know how desperate she felt. She turned the conversation away from her. “Anyway, why are you out here? I thought you’d be enjoying the party.”
He stood looking down at her, watching the moonlit water lap at the top of her breasts, his strong features holding a certain sensuality that made her shiver. “I needed some fresh air.”
Pretending his husky voice didn’t perturb her, she eased backward in the water, slowly moving around, trying to look unaffected by him.
“I guess you’ll be heading home soon then,” she said, hoping against hope that he’d take the hint.
“I’ve booked a room for the night.”
She stopped moving. Had he expected to share it with someone? Her? This was his friends’ motel, but he would be discreet, she knew.
All at once she became conscious of feeling a tiny bit cold but she didn’t want to get out of the pool in front of him. He’d seen more than enough of her tonight.
He frowned. “You’re getting cold. Come on, I’ll help you out of there.” All action now, he went and picked up her towel from the chair.
Her heartbeat started to skip. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll just swim around some more then go back to my apartment. No need for you to wait around.”
His frown deepened. “I’m not leaving you here alone, Vanessa. You could get a cramp.”
“I won’t.” She hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt, but suspected she did. “You really should be going back to the party.”
A very masculine look suddenly entered his eyes. “I should?” He paused. “Why?”
She drew an unsteady breath. “Er … why?” Her throat closed up. Her mind froze. She couldn’t think of a thing to say that didn’t give away how much he was affecting her.
Then a mask came down over his face. “Come on, Vanessa. Get out of the pool.” Clearly remote now, he opened the towel and held it up for her.
She wavered.
“Vanessa?”
She stared at him, then told herself he was only concerned for her welfare, nothing else. It was either that or she’d never get out of the pool.
She dared not look at him as she concentrated on moving through the water toward him. Her foot found the first step and she began to rise out of the pool. She could feel his eyes on her as the water sluiced down over her swimsuit, each step up exposing every inch of her body to him.
She reached the top step and looked up.
Their eyes locked.
The air stilled between them.
He moved closer. “Let me,” he murmured, standing in front of her, slipping it around her shoulders.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Um … you might get wet.”
“I don’t mind.” He pulled the edges of the towel tight at the column of her throat, bringing her closer, against him.
Their bodies touched.
Sizzled.
She felt him all the way down to her toes.
Suddenly she saw tiny flames in his eyes and an ache that had been growing all night throbbed through her veins. She wanted to touch the full curve of his mouth with her own just once, to taste its warmth, its strength.
He lowered his head and she trembled, and with a silent sigh, closed her eyes as his mouth covered hers. Her lips met his and he kissed her … and kissed her more … long and slow. Oddly enough her lips felt as if they were welcoming him home. He tasted both familiar yet unsettling, firm yet gentle. A heady mixture of the known and unknown.
He drew her closer, cupping the back of her head and deepening the kiss. Then groaning a low sound that seemed to wrench from deep inside him, he pulled her hips tightly against his arousal, letting her know what he wanted. She leaned into him, reveling in the sexual heat which spread like bushfire from his body to hers. She decided then and there that he felt as good as he looked. And she moved closer still. Need was everything. She needed more than the taste of his mouth. More than the feel of her breasts against his hard chest. She needed to feel him inside her. For the first time ever she understood why they called it consummation.
She wanted to be consumed by him.
Without warning, he broke away, breathing heavily, his eyes smoldering for her. A pulse leaped along the hard line of his jaw. “Vanessa, go,” he rasped.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “I—”
“Go.”
She didn’t need to be told a second time. Whirling around, she ran back to her apartment as fast as her legs would take her. When she finally closed the door behind her, she sank to her knees and brought her hand to her mouth. Dear God, what had she done? Everything she’d believed about herself and the type of woman she was had just been proven wrong.
