He'd spread out a couple sleeping bags on the bottom and added a few folded blankets for them to cover up with. She shivered, and he reached under the blanket for a sweatshirt.
"Here, put this on. It's kind of cool now that the sun's gone down."
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She took the offered sweatshirt and balanced on her knees in order to put it on. It hung way below her shorts and smelled spicy clean, just like Jake. She couldn't resist the urge to hug his garment next to her before settling in on the blankets.
"You'll have to lay down to see, otherwise you'll get an ache in your neck."
Following his lead she lay on her back. He pulled the blankets over them both and settled in next to her.
Try as she might to focus on the stars, the man next to her grabbed all her attention.
She listened to the sound of his even breathing, intensely aware of his warm body fitted so closely against hers. How would they feel nestled up against each other, her leg wrapped over his, her head resting on his chest?
And how would he react if she threw herself on him like that? Would he bolt, or would he welcome her in his embrace?
How many times over the past couple weeks had she thought about what it would be like to lie naked next to him? She'd caught glimpses of his strong, muscled body, and many times thought about that body covering hers in passion.
Why was she even thinking these thoughts? They weren't even really dating. Sure, she'd come to think of Jake as a friend, someone she felt comfortable around. But as a lover, a potential partner? No. He wouldn't be happy in her world, and her family and peers would never welcome him. And that she'd never put him through.
Not that he'd be interested, anyway.
She laughed at the way her mind wandered.
"What are you laughing about?"
"Oh. Um, nothing. My mind was wandering."
"About?"
How would he react if she told him what she'd really been thinking? "I was thinking about a case I'm taking to court next week."
"Oh."
Idiot. She had to blast these thoughts of her and Jake into orbit, shoot them across the sky like the stars they were watching, until the thoughts disappeared out of sight.
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And out of her mind.
"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.
"Sure."
"What happened in there? What did I say that upset you?"
She knew it had been too good to be true. Hoping that he'd forget about the incident didn't mean it was going to happen. Now she'd have to face it.
"You said I reminded you of a kindergarten teacher."
"Yeah, and?"
"It's silly, really."
"Not if it's important to you, it isn't."
Still, she was reluctant to bring up the subject, knowing how idiotic it would sound.
She was an adult, had made her choices in life, and crying about what could never be would merely show her as weak. The most important thing her father had taught her was to never show a weakness. To anyone, friend or foe. It could come back to hurt you someday.
"Let's talk about something else," she suggested.
Jake rolled onto his side to face her. Their eyes met, his shrouded in the darkness.
"Something happened in there to upset you. Tell me what it was."
It wasn't a demand, it was an offer to listen. Did she really have anyone else she could talk to, besides Jake? What a terrible thought. After all these years of bottling all her emotions inside, she'd finally found someone willing to listen, no matter what she had to say.
"I've always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher."
"Then why didn't you?"
No condemnation at all. He didn't laugh at her or tell her it was a stupid idea.
"Because I'm the last Fairchild."
"So?"
She turned on her side and rested her head in her hand. "Fairchilds have always worked for the firm."
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"Kind of an antiquated way of thinking, isn't it?"
She sighed. "Yes and no. Fairchild Law is a family business. Founded by Fairchilds and headed by Fairchilds for generations before me. My father had no brothers or sisters, and I'm his only child. Which meant that if I didn't go into law, the family business would die out with my father."
He reached out and ran a finger over her cheek. She shivered and heated at the same time.
"I think your first responsibility should be to yourself. You deserve to be happy, Lucy. And if that means a different line of work, then you should go for it."
She shook her head. "It simply isn't done that way. I couldn't let my father down like that. He depends on me, depends on knowing that I'll be there to take over when he's no longer around."
"Does your father love you?"
"Of course he does."
"If he loved you then he'd want you to be happy."
She shifted onto her back again, unable to meet the challenging look in his eyes. "I am happy."
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"I don't think anyone can truly be happy living a lie."
Why had she allowed this conversation to continue? She knew it would lead to the inevitable self doubt that had plagued her for years. Torn between duty to family and dreams of a life of her own, she never managed to win the battle for herself, no matter how many different ways she played out the scenario in her mind.
She was doing the right thing. She was.
"That's one of the things I admire most about you," she said, turning the tables on him.
He tilted his head. "What's that?"
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"You're the proverbial self-made man. Everything you have you worked for. You set a goal, and spent years pounding away at it until you reached it. You went from a homeless teenage runaway to a successful business owner. I admire you for that, Jake."
He didn't respond, instead stared at her as if struggling for a response.
"Nobody's ever said that to me before. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Her gaze caught a shooting star whisking across the clear night sky, and for a brief second she closed her eyes and wished. Silly, she knew, but still, she made that never-to-be-granted wish.
After all, the night was for fantasy and dreams anyway. Why not wish on a dream just for fun?
"What did you wish for?" Jake whispered.
She turned to him and met his smile. "How do you know I made a wish?"
"It's written all over your face. Besides, I saw the star and when I looked at you right afterward, your eyes were closed but your lips were moving."
"I see. And did you wish on the same star?"
"I asked you first." He grinned and swept her hair away from her face, his palm warm. Instead of pulling away, he left it resting on her neck. She felt her pulse pound rapidly against his hand.
"If I tell you my wish it won't come true."
He laughed. "That's what everyone says. I don't believe it."
"Do you want to risk telling me your wish?"
"Hmm, interesting dilemma."
"Why?"
"Because my wish was about you."
Her body quaked, but not from chill. His words were spoken in a low voice, husky with a sensual promise. She was almost afraid to ask him to reveal his wish, and too curious not to.
"Tell me."
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"I wished that I could hold you in my arms and kiss you under the stars."
His words cut through her defenses and went straight to her heart. That he would wish for a kiss from her was unexpected, not to mention thrilling.
"That means I hold your destiny in my hands," she said, reveling in the heady feel of knowing Jake desired her.
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"Yeah, you do. So?"
"So, what?" she teased.
"Does my wish come true or not?"
Without hesitation, she said, "Most definitely. Your wish is granted."
His expression turned dark as he loomed over her, not waiting more than a whispered breath to pull her against him and lower his mouth to hers.
Warm lips covered hers, coaxing a response that sounded more like a gasp than a pleasured sigh. And yet it was both. Jake held such barely leashed passion within that when he let it out it was near overwhelming, but not unwelcome. She eagerly pressed against him, sliding her arms around his shoulders and pulling him toward her. She wanted his body to cover hers, the same way his mouth had taken her lips.
"I waited all damn day for this," he said through clenched teeth. His hand slid up underneath the sweatshirt, under her tank top, fluttering along her rib cage on a relentless search. She knew he wouldn't be satisfied until he grasped what he sought.
His thumb found her nipple and flicked it gently. She gasped and arched into his hand as his palm covered her breast, gently squeezing and kneading the instantly aroused flesh.
Clouds had blown in and covered the moonlit sky, rendering them in the darkness.
Wind had blown out the candles he'd set, forcing them to rely on touch and sound rather than sight.
Lucy longed to see his face, and yet his voice, his breathing, his every touch told her all she needed to know. He was like a man on a mission, and his mission was her.
No part of her remained untouched. His hands wandered everywhere, from her breasts to her ribcage and over her hips. With a swift tug he pulled her shorts down and 100
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off, the now cool breeze biting against her bare legs before he threw the blankets over them again.
"Dammit, it's dark and I want to see you," he rasped in her ear. Heat burned through, his very words like a scorching fire that she knew she shouldn't touch but couldn't stay away from.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she considered suggesting they move into the house, where she could see him. She'd thought about him, about his body, from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him, her imagination conjuring up vivid images of a bronzed, god-like statue. Her most fervent wish was to see that statue unclothed before her, so she could admire and touch every angle and curve of his hardened body.
But her mind wouldn't cooperate. She didn't want to break the spell he'd woven over her, didn't want to take a chance that he would stop like he'd done before. This time she was stone cold sober and didn't want to stop. This time she wanted it all.
His lips against the pulse point on her throat set her on fire. He licked and nibbled her neck until she cried out a gasp that he covered with his mouth.
She could barely take the overwhelming sensations he evoked, and yet he was relentless. He simply would not stop. Not that she'd ask him to. But she refrained from begging for more.
His work-roughened hand slid over her hipbone and down her thigh, alternately clenching and unclenching as it squeezed her tender flesh.
She felt his erection pulsing hard against her hip as he leaned into her, and longed to wrap her fingers around that part of him. But he seemed to be eluding her questing hands.
"Jake, please. I want to touch you."
"Plenty of time for that later," he said in a rough voice, then gently parted her thighs with his hand and slid his palm against her aching sex.
Never before had sparks of pleasure flown through her with such intensity as they did the moment he touched her sensitive flesh. Instinctively she rocked against his palm, aiding his questing fingers by arching her hips.
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She was already so close to orgasm she knew it was only a matter of seconds before she exploded against his hand. When he slipped his fingers under her silk panties and parted her slick folds, she bit her lip to keep from crying out her pleasure.
Gently, he eased one, then two fingers inside her, boldly praising her aroused state.
She couldn't have said two words if her life depended on it. All she could do was gasp, and pray fervently that he rode out this storm with her, that he didn't pull away as he'd done before.
Mindless with passion, she heard only his murmuring in her ear, coaxing her to let go, each spoken word coupled with the agonizing pleasure of his fingers moving within her, his thumb circling the sensitive nub.
Finally the moment was upon her, and she held on to his shoulders and pushed against his hand, her buttocks rising up as he drove her over the edge, taking in her cries of pleasure with his lips as he kissed her through her shuddering climax.
He held her, kissing her as she gradually regained some semblance of sanity. He pulled her against him and laid her head on his shoulder, one of her legs flung over his, just as she'd wished earlier. He didn't say a word, just stroked her back while her breathing returned to normal.
What could she say to him after what had just happened? She'd never lost control like that before. She'd never had a sexual experience like that before, never had a man put her pleasure before his own.
But now that he'd shown her how unselfish he was, how giving, she wanted to return the favor. Boldly she reached out her hand and caressed his chest, curling her fingers in the crisp hairs above his shirt.
"Now, it's your turn." She smiled into the darkness as he sucked in a breath.
Something cold and wet hit her forehead. Once, twice, then several more.
"It's raining." Jake jumped up in a flash as the sky opened, drenching them in a downpour. He motioned for Lucy to hurry, which she did as best she could, struggling with the last vestiges of her modesty as she scurried back into her clothes and grabbed what blankets she could hold. Jake jumped off the trampoline and held his arms out to 102
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her. She leaned into him and he swept her onto the ground. They both took off in a brisk run toward the house.
Rascal was inside the door, wagging his tail for them.
Once inside, Jake grabbed the now-soaked blankets and laid them in another room, returning with a towel for her.
She dried her wet skin and hair, not once taking her eyes off the man who, moments ago, had taken her to a height of pleasure that still left her shaking and wanting more.
"I can't believe it's raining like that." His eyes darkened to a smoldering amber.
Lucy felt the stirrings of arousal surround her once again, knowing the magic of this night was just beginning. "Maybe it was a sign that it was time to come inside."
He nodded, then stepped toward her, gathering her in his arms. Their eyes met and held, and she felt every blissful second tick by as he lowered his face to hers.
Then her cell phone rang.
Jake lifted his head.
"Ignore it," she said.
He nodded and the phone stopped ringing. "Now, where were we?"
The phone rang again.
Lucy sighed. "I'd better check to see who that is."
He pulled away while she ran to the dining room to retrieve her telephone. Seeing the home number, she answered.
"Lucille?"
It was her father. She knew she shouldn't have answered. When would she learn to listen to that voice inside her head? "Yes?"
"I need you to come home."
She sighed. "Father, really. I thought we had this discussion before. I'm old enough to--"
"You don't understand," he interrupted. "I'm having chest pains. I thought it was indigestion but they won't go away. In fact, they're getting worse."
Panic flew through her, and she began to shake. "Father, call 911 now!"
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"No, it's not that bad. I just don't want to be here alone in case something happens."
Knowing how stubborn her father could be about medical issu
es, she said, "I'll be there as soon as I can."
She hung up and turned to Jake, who had come into the room and was standing behind her.
"Jake, I'm sorry, I have to go. My father is having chest pains and he's so stubborn and won't go to the doctor and--"
Jake took a step and gathered her in his arms, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
"Hey, it's okay. Go, take care of your dad."
She wished she could bring him along, felt a desperate need for his strength. But she knew she couldn't because his presence would only make things worse. "I'm sorry. Jake, I'm so sorry," she said at the same time gathering her purse and slipping on her sandals.
"We'll have more nights like tonight. Go, and be careful."
Pressing a quick kiss to his lips she flew out the door toward her car, hoping her father merely had another attack of indigestion.
He may be an insufferable pain in the butt, but he was the only family she had. Once inside the vehicle, she quickly started it up, counting the minutes until she'd reach home.
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Chapter Nine
Lucy wrapped her arms around herself and paced the library, trying her best not to glare at her father.
He was fine. There was nothing wrong with him. High color fused his face. He wasn't even pale. No sweating, his pulse was strong. He looked fit and robust as he sat reading the financial section of the paper while she paced and fumed.
Oh, he'd tried to give her his best oh-poor-pitiful-me performance when she'd flown through the front door and raced to his side after breaking nearly every speed record between Jake's house and hers, frantic and praying that she wouldn't find her father passed out on the floor when she got there...or worse.
He'd been sitting in that very chair, slumped, but rosy cheeked, looking up at her with his sad, puppy dog eyes. He'd coughed, raised a limp hand up to her. Then she'd known. Her father would never go down easy. He'd fight his own death...to the death.
"How do you feel now?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"A little better. The aspirin helped, I think. Thank you."
His voice was faint, barely above a whisper. The man was never going to win an Academy Award for his performance. Honestly, he really was a pathetic liar. He was a master at manipulation in the courtroom, but she knew him all too well. She saw right through this act for exactly what it was--a way to separate her from Jake. Somehow he'd known she was with Jake and he'd had to pull this dying act to get her to come home.