Heat Wave Page 11

  “Bye, Henry.”

  He slammed the patio gate shut as she gathered up her belongings. It opened immediately and Grant glanced at them. “Pardon me …”

  Interpreting his look, Marilee said, “You’re not interrupting anything. I’ll be right there.”

  He smiled. “Good. So long, Mr. Chandler.”

  Cole waved casually, but his blue eyes were solemn as he gazed at her.

  “Henry’s bright,” she said.

  “You know kids.”

  “Yes, I do.” She paused. “Totally honest.”

  Cole didn’t misunderstand. “I haven’t led a monk’s life, Marilee.”

  She laughed despite herself. “Don’t be defensive. It isn’t that big a deal,” she lied.

  He crossed over to her and tilted her chin up, his blue eyes probing hers. The slight pressure of his fingertips on her jaw made her pulse thump. She pulled back and bent to pick up her bag before Cole saw more in her eyes than he should. “Henry responds beautifully,” she said, forcing herself to speak calmly. “I think all he needs is one-on-one attention.”

  “You sound so sure.” Cole’s chest heaved with a long sigh. “He’s had that before—one person working with him.”

  “Give me two weeks and you’ll see an improvement.”

  “You may be too hasty in your promise.”

  “I’ve done this before, remember?”

  Suddenly his features changed. Crinkles fanned from the corners of his eyes. ‘Two weeks, huh? Fine! I’ve always liked someone who’s positive.”

  She ignored the warm feeling generated by his praise. “Well, they’re waiting. Bye, Cole.”

  He reached the gate ahead of her, his brown hand holding it open. His voice was soft as he said, “Bye, Marilee.”

  Something hurt. Suddenly Cole looked as vulnerable to heartache as she. Confused by his somber expression and her own feelings, she hurried to the truck and squeezed in between the two men. She rode home lost in thought about the day. Cole’s kisses, his appealing body, the tempting offer for dinner, the words they had exchanged.

  The next two days passed quickly. Marilee, Grant, and Ted would work throughout the morning, then Cole would appear around noon and invite them to swim. Marilee brought her onepiece black racing suit with her and Cole’s blue eyes had danced the first time he saw her in it, but he made no comment about her preference in swim wear. He also seemed to be purposely keeping his distance from her, as though he had sensed her reluctance on Tuesday and was willing to give her the space she needed. Although Marilee appreciated his sensitivity, she couldn’t hide from herself her longing to be in Cole’s arms again.

  But, she told herself as she started scraping the side of the house the following Friday, it was for the best if both she and Cole let the passion that had erupted between them die a quiet death. He’d be leaving in two weeks, she’d be going on her cruise. … She tried to quell the pain that rose at the thought of their imminent separation.

  She worked without stopping, cursing the heat wave which showed no signs of slacking. At noon she changed into her suit and headed for the pool.

  When she reached it. Cole was the only person in sight. He was treading water and his blue eyes appraised her with a smoldering glance that made her draw a sharp breath.

  “Come on in,” he said, his voice suggestive. “The water’s just right.” He twisted to float on his back and the sunlight glistened on his bronze shoulders and the dark mat of hair curling wetly on his chest. She avoided studying the narrow black swim trunks. Water splashed over his long brown legs as he bobbed up and down with the waves caused by his moving hands.

  She dropped her towel in a chair and jumped into the water, relishing its soothing coolness.

  The thermometer had already climbed to an even one hundred and she had been miserable scraping on the sunny side of the house. As she surfaced she heard a car motor rumble to life and fade away.

  Cole swam over to her, tossing his wet hair away from his face. His hands caught her about the waist. “Hi, witch.”

  Aware of the occasional brush of his legs while he treaded water, of his hands holding her, her pulse drummed rapidly as she answered, “Hi.”

  “How’s your text coming?”

  “Right now I just want to forget it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to make you think of something else.”

  She laughed and ducked under water, then surfaced to swim laps up and down the pool.

  While she swam, she knew Cole was watching her with a burning scrutiny. Where were Ted and Grant? They always beat her to the pool. She swam another lap and looked around.

  Eight

  As Marilee swam to the side of the pool, suspicion suddenly struck her. “Where are Ted and Grant?” she asked.

  Cole extended his hand, reaching down to lift her out. She relished the faint breeze as she stepped onto the concrete—and the feel of Cole’s hands lingering on her waist. His blue eyes were direct as he answered her question. “I sent them home.”

  “What about Henry?”

  Cole shrugged. “I gave him the day off too.”

  “Cole …” She felt a glow spread throughout her body. She ignored reason, danger. She was alone with Cole—what she wanted more than anything else.

  He held up his hand. “You work too hard, Marilee. Take an afternoon off.” Motioning her to sit down at the table set for two, he said, “I told Grant and Ted I’d drive you home.”

  “It might’ve been nice of you to ask first.”

  He grinned. “And risk another rejection. No, thanks. Sit down, honey.”

  She toweled off, and then he sank in the other chair. On the blue wrought-iron table between them were tall glasses of iced tea, two plates, a bowl of potato chips, a plate of sandwiches, and a platter of chocolate-chip cookies.

  “Where’s my sacklunch?”

  “On its way back to Wichita. Ted’ll probably eat it. I think the man has hollow arms and legs.”

  She laughed. “I’ll have to admit this is more appealing.”

  Cole took a swallow of iced tea. “Sandy’s going to take off work soon so she can meet you. You’re sure you’re not corrupting Henry’s morals with those comics you give him?”

  “Be thankful he’s reading them and enjoying them. Besides, they’re harmless. You haven’t read any or you wouldn’t accuse me of evil.”

  He grinned. “No, I haven’t read them.”

  “Pick one up and look at the vocabulary in it.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  She accepted a sandwich of tuna salad on wheat bread. While they ate, conversation was casual, but Cole’s eyes were conveying their own message. After a long lunch. Cole brought out two rafts and they floated lazily in the pool.

  Marilee watched the brilliant white thunderheads overhead as their shapes drifted and changed against the blue sky.

  “This is perfect. Cole,” she said with a sigh. She didn’t add, “With you.”

  She closed her eyes. Her fingers trailed in the water and the bobbing of the raft was soothing. She forced her mind to stay blank while she listened to the clear whistle of a redbird and the buzzing drone of cicadas.

  Cole’s voice was a deep rumble close at hand. “I told you, you work too hard.”

  She opened her eyes to find him propped on an elbow, lying on his side on his raft.

  An all too familiar longing to touch him filled her as she gazed at his hard bronzed torso only inches away and the thick brown hair that curled over his neck.

  Pulling herself under control, she closed her eyes again and paddled slightly away from Cole. He didn’t speak again and, hypnotized by the silence, the heat, the gentle motions of her raft, she fell asleep. She awoke later, disoriented. The sky above was clear and the raft was motionless against the edge of the pool. Cole was sitting on the concrete, his legs dangling in the water, studying her.

  She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

  He slipped into the water. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you did. Been burning the midnight oil?”

  “I was up until two a.m. working on my textbook last night.”

  “Don’t you know there’s another way to live?” He pushed the raft away from the wall and swam beside her.

  “I know, but I have to finish on time.” She closed her eyes again against the bright sun. “I don’t want to miss that cruise. I’ve planned and saved for it a long time. The thought of it carried me through two long dreary winters of grading papers.”

  Suddenly cold water dropped on her midriff and she yelped and sat up. Cole tipped the raft and she rolled off.

  Water closed over her head, waking her fully. She reached out and grasped his legs and yanked him under. As soon as his head dropped below the surface, she let go and kicked away to escape.

  Like a steel clamp, an arm snagged her about the waist, pulling her down. She struggled, trying to remember to keep her mouth closed.

  His arms dropped away suddenly and she burst through to the surface, gulping air.

  “You’ll drown me!” she sputtered, laughing.

  They were inches apart. His hand rested on her shoulder and one of her legs brushed against him as she treaded water. The laughter faded from his blue eyes to be replaced by an expression of smoldering, sensual desire.

  “It’s been almost two weeks, honey,” he said in a low tone.

  “What has?” she asked, knowing exactly what it was.

  His voice mocked her as he softly repeated her question. “ ‘What has?’ You know damn well.”

  Her pulse jumped as his arms encircled her while his lips possessed hers in a hard, demanding kiss that opened her mouth fully to his.

  They floated together, held up by the movement of Cole’s legs. They drifted to the shallow end and when they could touch bottom, he pulled her against him, hip to hip, her breasts crushed against his solid chest. Their skimpy suits were the only barrier between their water-slick bodies. She could feel his arousal, just as she knew he felt her nipples thrust against the matted hair on his chest.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, momentarily overwhelmed by his kiss, returning it hungrily while her heart pumped violently.

  It was so good. His arms, his kisses so right, perfect. Why did he have such an effect on her? She wanted Cole Chandler as she had never wanted any man in her life. But did she want him enough to pay the price?

  He leaned back slightly and smiled at her. “Hold your breath.”

  His arm tightened and he yanked her under the water with him, pushing her away as she struggled.

  She had closed her mouth just in time, startled at the abrupt change. The cold water washed away the lethargy induced by his kisses.

  She swam away from him, surfacing in time to see him hit the water with the palm of his hand, sending it spraying over her.

  “Want to race?” she challenged.

  “Sure.”

  “To the steps and back. Go!”

  She had a slight lead, but she suspected he would catch up quickly. As she splashed across the pool as fast as possible, she wondered why he had stopped kissing her. She pulled her arms through the water, fighting to stay ahead, using all her energy to overcome the aching need created by his kisses.

  He won by a yard. Tossing hair away from his face, he grinned. “My, you’re competitive.”

  “Naturally.”

  “I thought women were supposed to graciously allow the male to beat them in competitions.”

  “What do you think I just did?”

  His arm snaked out swiftly, but she ducked out of reach. “Why are you grousing? You won.”

  “Yeah, after swimming like hell. Sure you haven’t been in the Olympics?”

  “Very sure. I take aerobic dancing during the winter and I jog a little.”

  “I’ll bet you do! Speaking of dancing—there’s a little rodeo and barn dance at Arkansas City tonight. Would you like to go?”

  “I’ll have to get something to wear.”

  “No, you won’t. It’s a hot night, wear your cut-offs.”

  “And my old shirt?”

  “If it makes you feel better. I’ll wear my worst. Wear one of Sandy’s dresses. They seem to fit you.”

  “I have so many pages I set myself to type each day. This will throw me off schedule.”

  “Don’t you allow extra time?”

  “I used it up long ago.”

  “One evening, a few hours, won’t be the end of your schedule.”

  “Against my better judgment, all right.”

  “Your eagerness might inflate my ego,” he said dryly. “If you had to choose between me or that blond Adonis you work with, it’d be different. Instead, the question is whether you want my charming company or want to type all evening?”

  She laughed. “You poor thing!”

  He swam toward her with a wicked gleam in his eye and she splashed away, swimming quickly toward the opposite end. He caught her halfway and dunked her, holding her under while she struggled.

  Desperately, she reached out to tickle him and he released her. She surfaced, gasping for air.

  He came up facing her and draped his arm about her shoulder. Drops of water glittered on his thick eyelashes and his dark hair was matted wetly on his forehead.

  His blue eyes bore into her, working their magic with her pulse. “Ready for a cold drink?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was a croak, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I think my skin is shriveling.”

  “Let me see …”

  “Cole!” She swam away and climbed out of the pool. She was aware of his blue gaze on her as she

  picked up her towel. He swiftly followed her and wrapped a white towel around his middle.

  The sight of him as he had been that first afternoon brought back a flood of stormy memories. She turned away and sat down in one of the chairs.

  In spite of the hungry look in Cole’s blue eyes, he spent the rest of the day doing nothing more arousing than teasing her, flirting mildly, and touching her casually, yet continually.

  They sat in the shade by the pool and drank several glasses of iced tea while they talked about the world, Kansas, politics, Henry, art, music. They swam again, talked again, and ate Jada’s chocolate-chip cookies.

  All afternoon Marilee wondered whether Cole was purposely trying to tantalize her or if he was as unaware of what he was doing as he appeared. Each brush of their hands, every mild contact, fell like a spark, a tiny ember. One alone could easily be extinguished, but the continual onslaught smoldered until it became a conflagration that singed and threatened to envelop her in its blaze. She wanted to pull his arms around her waist, to be kissed until she forgot her torment.

  Finally he rose and stretched. Marilee instantly lowered her eyes from the sight of his rippling muscles, remembering how she had placidly watched Grant stand in almost the same place and do the same thing. The brief glimpse of Cole though made her long desperately to be in his embrace again, recalling exactly how that lean, hard frame felt.

  She rose swiftly. “I think I’ll change.”

  He draped his arm around her. “Take your time. I’ll throw something on for dinner and well go after we eat.”

  They walked to the house and their bare legs brushed, thigh against thigh, hip against hip.

  When they entered the kitchen, it was quiet and empty. “Where’s Jada?” she asked.

  “I gave her the night off. I’ll cook something simple. Okay?”

  Contrary to his casual hold on her, his blue eyes were starting to smolder with unmistakable desire again. She nodded. “I’ll be quick.”

  She went upstairs without hesitation, realizing how accustomed she had grown to moving through his house. She glanced into his bedroom, seeing his bed neatly made with the dark spread covering it. She closed her own door and leaned against it, knowing she s
hould be home typing, doing anything but spending hour after hour with that seductive male.

  What she was doing was exactly like placing a bowl of cream in a room with a hungry cat and wondering what the outcome would be, yet she couldn’t turn down the challenge of the evening, demand to go home, sit alone, and work.

  She stared at herself in the mirror. The ends of her still damp hair were matted together and short wispy strands curled in ringlets around her face. Without makeup, the freckles on her nose showed clearly.

  “You’re asking for trouble,” she told her image seriously.

  “But he’s so damned appealing,” she whispered back.

  Heading for the shower, she thought about the afternoon and her yearning deepened. Casually, slowly, with each tantalizing contact, he had teased and heightened her desire for him. She lathered her red hair and scrubbed it thoroughly, trying to stop thinking about Cole.

  One glance at her raggedy cut-offs sent her to the closet to search through Sandy’s things. Finally she settled on another sundress, a dark blue cotton one with white piping. She slipped her feet into the large sandals and brushed her hair. She found a thin white ribbon in her purse and tied her hair in a cool ponytail.

  Downstairs a cloud of smoke wafted into the hall from the kitchen and the tempting odor of frying meat assailed her. Dressed in jeans and a blue western shirt, Cole stood at the stove, enveloped in smoke.

  “Should I call the fire department?” she asked dryly.

  Cole turned. “Hey! You look great!”

  “Something’s burning.”

  “Yeah, me. Come here.”

  “Cole, that skillet … The kitchen will catch on fire.”

  “Who cares?” His arms closed about her while he held a spatula away from her. She relented momentarily, returning a kiss that coaxed a need for more.

  “Cole, something’s on fire!”

  “Hmmm?” He strolled back to the stove, turned off the burner, and placed a lid over the skillet to smother the flames.

  “Dinner’ll be well done.”

  “It smells delicious anyway. Can I help?”

  He waved his hands. “Everything’s ready. French fries, minute steaks—a mite crispy—tossed salad and green peas, the only vegetable besides potatoes worth eating.”