They fell on the food like hungry vultures; no need for conversation as they fed the more basic need of hunger. The only sounds in the room were the clinking of their silverware and the steady tick-tock of a big-faced clock above the stove.
As Colette finished the meal, she became more aware of the ticking of the clock, the passing of time. She wanted time to pass fast, to carry her quickly to trial and on with the rest of her life. This place and Hank were interims from life, a kind of limbo that could possibly become a blend of heaven and hell.
“Hank, what happens if I don’t get back my memories?”
He shoved his plate aside and looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. It will be up to the prosecutorshow to handle it.” He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “But we’re still fourteen days out from the trial. A lot of things can happen in fourteen days.”
“Don’t remind me,” Colette returned, also rising and picking up her plate. “You cooked, I’ll do cleanup.”
“I’ll help. There isn’t much else to do.”
As she filled the sink with soapy water, he carried the last of the dishes on the table to her. “I asked you this before, but it was at a time when you weren’t telling me much, where are you from, Hank? Where’s home?”
“I think I told you then, here and there. That was pretty much the truth.” He picked up a dishtowel to dry the dishes as she washed and rinsed them. “I rent a room not far from here, but I don’t spend much time there.”
“How did you learn so much about horses? You looked like a natural at the ranch.”
“My mother was a horsewoman, raised and bred them on a ranch in North Carolina. I think I learned to ride before I could walk.” He wiped a plate and replaced it in the cabinet, then leaned against the counter. “I will tell you this, being at your ranch made me remember how much I once loved that kind of life.” He picked up another plate. “Who knows, perhaps when this case is finished, I’ll find myself a ranch and go back to breaking horses.”
“You could always come back to our place.” The words flew out of Colette’s mouth without forethought. She forced a laugh. “I might be in need of a horse-breaking bodyguard when this is all over.”
He eyed her darkly, his sensual lips upturned in a smile that threatened to steal Colette’s breath away. “I’m probably not the best candidate for guarding your body. In fact, I’m afraid I have to admit that at the moment I’m thinking thoughts that have nothing to do with guard duty.”
Colette tore her gaze from his, refusing to fall into the sensual web his dark eyes spun. “I think I hear Brook crying.” She dried her hands and escaped the kitchen and Hank’s heated gaze.
* * *
HANK KNEWBrook hadn’t cried, knew in truth Colette had run from the desire he’d been fighting since the moment they’d finished making love yesterday. He finished the dishes, then threw himself onto the sofa in the living room, trying not to think of the taste of her, the feel of her.
Outside evening shadows encroached on the last of the day’s light, shrouding the room in purple twilight. He flipped on the light on the end table, vaguely aware of the sound of the water running in the bathroom. Colette must be having her long-awaited shower.
He frowned, an image of her standing beneath the spray teasing his mind. Somehow, someway she’d managed to crawl under his skin. He wanted her with a mindless intensity, a craving that hadn’t been sated by their lovemaking the day before.
Just one more time. Surely if he made love to her properly, in a bed, one more time, it would finally end the hunger. He knew she wanted him, had seen desire flash in her eyes before she’d turned and ran from the kitchen.
Without being conscious of his own movement, he found himself standing outside the bathroom door. He placed a hand on the doorknob. If it was locked, he’d turn away, go do a series of sit-ups to ease the building pressure. The knob turned easily beneath his grip.
He knew then she wouldn’t turn him away, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She could have locked the door, kept him out, but she hadn’t.
He let go of the knob only long enough to take his clothes off, then he turned it once again, this time entering the steam-filled room.
Through the floral shower curtain he could just barely make out the shape of her, the dark silhouette increasing his desire. When he pulled the shower curtain aside, she didn’t jump in surprise, nor did she flinch beneath the intensity of his gaze.
Soap lather clung to her shoulders and dripped down her torso. Her hair was slicked back away from her face, her eyelashes spiked with wetness. She looked beautiful.
“Hank.” It wasn’t a protest, nor was it a verbal caress, it was simply acceptance.
“I thought you might need help scrubbing your back.” His voice sounded odd, husky as it bounced off the walls of the tub. He waited, tensed, to see if she’d welcome him or reject him. His throat grew dry as he waited for her reaction, wondering if he would—if he could—stop now.
She reached out and handed him the bar of soap.
It was all the acceptance he needed. He stepped into the tub, beneath the warm spray and took her into his arms. Her skin was slippery and sweet smellingfrom the soap, and fire blazed in his veins as the tips of her breasts slid back and forth over his chest.
With the water spraying his back and her body caressing his front, he was overwhelmed with pleasure. He fought for control, feeling like an eager teen experiencing his first foray into lovemaking. And if he wasn’t careful, like an inexperienced teen, he’d spend himself before ever actually committing the act.
He stepped back from her and ducked his head beneath the water, then gasped as she placed her mouth against his chest, kissing him with tormenting thoroughness. He wanted her to stop. He wanted her never to stop.
“Oh, Colette,” he moaned. Once again he grabbed her to him and captured her wicked lips with his own. His hands ran down the length of her back and cupped the curves of her buttocks, pulling her against him with another moan.
He was no longer sure whether the moans were hers or his own. He was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, emotion so deep, he no longer could tell where she left off and he began. The entire world had narrowed and compressed, becoming only this moment and this woman.
Not wanting to finish what they had begun in the uncomfortable confines of the tub, Hank picked her up in his arms and stepped out of the bathtub.
“Hank…the water,” she said as he started out the bathroom door.
He smiled. “We can shut it off later. The government pays the bills.”
It was a very long time before the water was finally turned off.
