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Rising, she grabbed the wall phone and tapped out the RSVP number, quickly conveying her sincere regrets that she wouldn’t be able to attend.
Cat hung up the phone and leaned against the counter, her head bowed. She remained that way for several minutes before raising her head and wiping away the traces of tears that wet her cheeks. She couldn’t afford to waste time on the past; she had a business to run, a life of her own to lead. And, most importantly, it wouldn’t do for Tara to find her like this. Her daughter came before everything, including regrets.
Sleep was impossible that night.
Cat tossed and turned, unable to find the comfort and peace that she craved. She should be too tired to be awake. It had been a busy day at the bookstore, with a large shipment of inventory to unpack and put away. Her muscles ached, yearning for the restorative power of total rest.
However, her mind had other plans.
Cat turned on the lamp by her bed and sat up, glancing at the clock. She knew what the problem was. Memories. Ever since that fancy envelope ripped open the tenuous hold she maintained over her thoughts on the past, the magnetic pull of recollections gripped her senses, nudging aside her hunger for sleep, for forgetfulness.
It had been almost seven years since she had seen the father of her child. Even though he was no longer a part of her personal life, he was still very much a part of her professional life. Because of the popular history books that he’d written, books that she carried in her store, that fact was inescapable. His sharp black-and-white photograph adorned dust jackets: He was the quintessentially handsome, brilliant college professor, a man of undeniable magnetism and taste who could wear, she recalled, a tuxedo or jeans with equal aplomb. The kind of drop-dead-gorgeous looks that constantly stirred and fluttered female hearts—and would until his dying day.
Frustrated, Cat threw back the fluffy white comforter, leaving the bed that offered her no sanctuary from the seductive rush of memories. Slipping on her comfortable hunter-green chenille robe, she padded barefoot to her cozy kitchen for a soothing cup of hot chocolate.
While waiting for the water to boil, she looked out the window over the sink to the sky, touched by a splattering of diamond-chipped stars.
She had thought that he’d been like them: brilliant, remote, out of her reach.
The kettle’s whistle signaled to her that the water was ready. Cat poured the boiling liquid over the cocoa mix, her free hand automatically reaching for a spoon and stirring the contents of the mug. Her mind dwelled on the fact that the unthinkable had happened, that without her having to reach for them, the dreams, the fantasies, had come to her.
And that’s all they were, she thought as she sipped the rich taste of the chocolate. Fantasies.
Without foundation. Without strength. Nothing to build upon, she sadly acknowledged. First love had swept her away on a tide of rising emotions, breaking through the barriers around her heart. She could see it all so clearly: He was again the instructor, she the willing student.
Her memory slipped back, caught in the seductive web of the past….
Cat was running late, the result of having gotten stuck in traffic. Today of all days, she thought as she pulled her car into the small parking lot that adjoined the reconverted barn that housed her bookstore and gift shop.
She’d been open less than a year, and this was her first really big event, hosting a signing of an important new book. All her hard work lobbying the small-press publisher had paid off. She had the first appearance of a man who was getting extensive, glowing media coverage for his introductory foray into the crowded field of historical writing. After reading an advanced copy of the book, Cat had been determined to get the author in her store, especially since he was teaching a semester at Cedar Hill. So impressed was she by his stirring command of words that she wanted to share her enthusiasm with the public. She and her assistant had sent out invitations to a select mailing list, then crossed their fingers that all the people who had responded affirmatively would show up.
Cat finally relaxed about a half hour later after making sure all the details were taken care of: that she had enough chairs to hold the people rapidly filling the store, that the coffee and tea were ready, and that the small iced cookies and cupcakes her assistant, Mary Alice, had picked up from a local bakery were set out. She checked the small pine table holding the large stack of books, fussing with the display until she had it just right.
She chatted with a few of her regular customers while they waited for the author to show up. Several of them had already purchased the book on her recommendation earlier in the week and were as anxious as she was to meet the writer.
Still, Cat was totally unprepared for the shock that hit her squarely in the chest when the door opened several minutes later, and the author sauntered in.
He was the handsomest man she had ever seen. Photographs, she realized, didn’t completely do him justice. Tall, whipcord lean, he entered the room like a conquering prince of old, pride stamped indelibly on the aristocratic planes of his face. Casually dressed in a pale blue oxford shirt and tight indigo jeans, topped by a black leather jacket, Cat couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She was instantly mesmerized by the brilliant blue of his eyes, deep and dark, as he looked in her direction. Kerry blue to be sure, surrounded by thick dark lashes many women would envy, and curving black eyebrows. Black hair, thick and slightly wavy, fell to his nape. His mouth was wide with a sensually full lower lip.
And then he smiled. Caitlyn saw his mouth quirk to one side, a dimple evident in one cheek, the white flash of his teeth glowed against his lightly tanned skin.
She watched as he brushed away a stray lock of hair from his forehead. His fingers were long and slender. A silver Claddagh ring gleamed on his right hand.
Unbidden and quite unexpected came the thought—what would those hands feel like on her body?
Like heaven, she answered her own question, imagining the outcome.
Heat flushed her cheeks as she realized the sensual path her mind was taking.
Apologizing for his tardiness, he quietly introduced himself to Cat, whose heart started to pound deep in her chest. She introduced him to the crowd, then stepped back to let him begin.
She, along with the assembled customers, was enthralled both by the sound of his voice and by the subject matter he discussed. He made history come alive, as if he were relating events that happened just yesterday instead of centuries ago.
With a will of their own, her eyes returned to feast on him. A poet, a warrior-king, a rebel; all these things and more Cat saw mirrored in his compelling face. His was a countenance that personified all that was masculine and beautiful, all that was heroic about the Irish.
The day was a huge success. The cash register hummed with activity as close to a hundred copies of the book were sold. People lined up to chat with the author, some, Cat noted, shamelessly flirting.
He seemed to take it all in stride, staying later, making sure everyone who wanted a signed copy got one.
A few customers still milled about the store, talking and adding items to their planned purchases while Cat straightened up.
“Miss Kildare?”
She almost dropped the empty china plate she was holding when he spoke. “Yes?”
“Any more left?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Of the cookies or the cupcakes?”
“Sorry, no,” she responded. “Looks like the food was as big as hit as you were, Dr. Sullivan.”
He smiled. “Rory, please.”
Her tongue snaked out to wet her suddenly dry lips.
He checked the watch on his right wrist. “It’s well past lunch and a bit early for dinner, but I’m rather hungry. What about you?”
Cat hadn’t eaten since a hastily grabbed breakfast this morning, and while she was indeed hungry, not to mention intrigued at the thought of sharing a meal with this man, she had a business to run. “Thanks for the offer, but I really can’t. There’s too much to do here.”
Mary Alice entered the conversation, not having missed the intense looks her boss had given their guest speaker. “I can close up today, Cat.”
Cat threw her assistant a grateful glance. “You’re sure? You were scheduled to leave in half an hour.”
“No problem. I’ll just make a phone call and let my husband know I’ll be home later.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s settled then,” Rory added, waiting while Cat gathered her purse and gave a few last-minute instructions to her assistant. When Cat joined him, he leaned close to her and whispered, “I know a wonderful place not far from here.”
That was the beginning.
Time flew by with dinners, lunches, or whatever moments could be snatched from both their busy schedules. Cat discovered that unlike her, Rory was an only child, born to older parents who indulged him until their death while he was in his junior year of college. She listened while he outlined his ambitions, his plans for the future, filed away details as she was drawn deeper and deeper into his private circle.
Then, one morning, not many weeks after they first began seeing one another, Cat awoke with the certain knowledge that she was in love with him. She had been from the first day they’d met. It was a fact that she couldn’t deny any longer. His charming good looks and exciting mind had stolen her heart, yet what would come of it? she asked herself. There were far more intriguing women on campus he could have, faculty and students alike. Women more experienced and sophisticated than she, who knew how to play the game of love. Women willing to break the rules for an opportunity to share his bed.
With so many available choices, why would he ever look in her direction?
The amazing fact, to her, was that he had. Or maybe she was reading far too much into their friendship. He had yet to even kiss her.
She had barely arrived at her bookstore one day when there was a knock on the door about an hour before she was due to open. “Hello. Cat?”
It was him. There was no mistaking that voice, his distinctive manner of speaking. Without hesitation, she unlocked the door and let him in.
He was casually dressed, looking absurdly elegant in his relaxed fashion. His short-sleeved blue chambray shirt was open at the neck minus a tie, revealing a sprinkle of black hair, and was tucked into a pair of faded jeans that hugged his slim hips and long legs.
She’d had to fight back the almost overwhelming inclination she had to reach out her hand and open the rest of the buttons to see for herself if that hair covered his entire chest or was just a dusting.
He stood before her, a pleased, triumphant smile on his firm mouth.
“What?” she’d asked in response to that look.
“I needed to do something this morning,” he said, stepping closer to her and closing the door with a firm click. “Something I’ve longed to do for so many weeks that I thought I would explode from the wait.”
Cat was caught by the steely strength of his fingers, which wrapped gently around her upper arms. She was brought quickly into intimate contact with his lean, hard body. His black head dipped and his wickedly beautiful mouth met her own with a searing passion that shook Cat to the core of her being.
Again and again his mouth swept over hers, cajoling, demanding, seeking, persuading. It was a series of messages she couldn’t ignore. Her wildest fantasies were coming true. Cat gave herself up to the hungry possession of his kisses, linking her arms around his neck, holding on and drawing him closer as she willingly surrendered.
“My God,” Rory whispered when he finally broke off the kiss, his breathing ragged. He held her close to his chest, stroking one hand up and down her back in a soothing motion, kissing the top of her head.
Cat could only smile. The dreams she hadn’t dared to hope for were quickly becoming reality.
Rory lifted her chin so that she could see his face. “Can you get away this weekend?”
“What for?” she’d asked, her heart still beating faster than normal.
“I’ve managed to rent a place down the shore. Very nice and quite private, I’ve been told. We’d have the beach all to ourselves. How about it?”
Cat stepped away from his embrace, needing perspective while she thought over his invitation. She understood what he was asking. It was there in his eyes; it had flavored his kisses. Why not go with him? Hadn’t these past weeks shown that she could trust him? He hadn’t pushed their relationship farther than she was comfortable with.
Besides, unable to stop herself from glancing in his direction, she loved him. And loving, she knew, meant eventually expressing that love in the most intimate way possible.
She reached out her hand to take his. “Yes.” With that decision made, Cat realized she had burned her bridges and crossed the threshold.
The look in his dark blue eyes banished any lingering trepidation she felt. “You won’t regret this, Cat.” He kissed her softly and sweetly on her still-swollen mouth. “I promise.”
Four days later Cat inhaled the salt-tinged air as she walked upon the upper deck of the large glass, wood and stone house. She and Rory had spent a relaxing day swimming, sunbathing, and later, shopping in a local antiques store.
The brilliant sun was low in the sky, suspended over the horizon. Snatching up her camera from a nearby chair, Cat snapped a picture, wanting to capture a slice of this day so that she could relive it later, though she suspected that no picture could truly capture what she was feeling.
Happiness bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill over.
The French door that led from the upstairs living room opened, and she heard Rory behind her, welcomed the strong arm that he slid so possessively around her waist. She could feel the heat of his bare chest through her thin cotton tank top. His jeans-clad legs felt hard against the exposed length of hers, covered only in shorts. Slowly, seductively, his left hand curved around her throat, caressing her neck and shoulder.
She wanted to suspend this moment in time. From the open door she could hear the sweet flow of an alto saxophone emanating from the expensive stereo system. She listened, swaying to the soothing, seductive rhythm. A slow sensation of heat arose within her.
When his mouth, sweet with wine, captured hers in a kiss potently powerful, Cat gave in willingly. This was the moment of surrender. Her heart knew it. Her body demanded it.
So did he.
Bending, Rory lifted her in his strong arms, carrying her through the house until he reached the bedroom that had been his alone last night.
He set her down, his lips still locked possessively with hers before he pulled back.
Cat was surprised. She could have easily kissed him for days on end, so exciting was the mating of their mouths.
When Rory finally spoke, his words were delivered in a soft, husky tone. “I want to see all of you, Cat. Now. Will you do that for me?”
The light in the room was beginning to fade. She watched as her lover-to-be slipped into the enveloping shadows while she remained in the glow of the setting sun as it sank in glorious splendor through the windows. Colors streaked the sky, giving her a backdrop touched with the beauty only nature could paint.
Wetting her lips, she took a deep breath. Slowly, she pulled the white top over her head, revealing pale, creamy skin. Next, she reached around and unsnapped her lacy bra, letting it fall to the floor.
A growing sense of power, like a charge of electricity, flowed through her. He was giving her the choice. With a smile, she unzipped her white shorts, peeling them, along with her serviceable white, French-cut panties, down her legs.
Her task done, Cat stood, her back straight, her manner proud.
“Your hair, loosen it,” came the softly spoken command.
Cat removed the clip that held her hair, threading her slender fingers through it, fluffing it around her shoulders. It was thick, wavy, with streaks of gold among the deep auburn tresses.
The room was suddenly flooded with light as Rory turned on the lamp that rested on the nightstand. He’d been sitting in an overstuffed low chair.
He stood, slowly dispensing with his faded denims, letting them fall to his feet. His fingers hooked into the trim blue briefs he wore, pushed them aside.
Her voice sounded strained as her eyes opened wide, riveted by the sight of him. Better than any photograph, more striking than a marble statue, he was, to her, perfection. “I’ve never…” Her words trailed off as he crossed the room.
He cupped her cheek, whispering, “Hush, my sweet love. I know.” Then, gentle as a breeze off the ocean, he traced a finger along her throat, across her collarbone, then came to the swell of her breasts. His large hand lightly caressed her flesh. As if he had forever, he continued to discover the wonderful secrets of her body, molding, shaping, exploring, leading her on the journey.
Then, he welcomed her participation. “Touch me,” he said, his voice deep and demanding.
Cat complied, exalting in the feel of the crisp black hair that angled across his lean, muscular chest. She stroked his rib cage, palmed her hand across his flat belly. Felt the power in his strong thighs as her fingertips glided down and over them.
Then, needing to experience the taste, the touch of his lips again, she sought his mouth with her own, letting the growing hunger that twisted her insides speak for her.
In turn, Rory responded with a primitive fervor that drew her deeper and deeper into a vortex of indescribable passion.
Cat’s initiation into total womanhood was accomplished with gentleness and love, with sharing and joy.
Another month passed rapidly, with Cat wrapped in a haze of love and what she thought was security. Any day he would ask her to marry him, share his life as she shared his love, she was sure of that.
Then, late one afternoon the dreamworld she’d lived in disintegrated when he shared his news with her. Snuggled in his bed, replete after intense lovemaking, Rory explained the offer he’d just received.
“It’s a dream come true, Cat, something I’ve been working for. The opportunity to further my studies at Trinity College in Dublin with a prestigious research fellowship.” His voice sang with delight as he hugged Cat close, one hand stroking her tousled hair.
“It’s all so sudden,” she’d heard herself say.
