Blue Velvet

cadence of the pulse beat in his temple. 'I want to know that everything I do to you will make you shine and melt and flow.' He drew a deep shuddering breath and shook his head as if to clear it. 'I must be going crazy. For a minute I could actually see you lying there waiting for me to come to you.' His hand dropped away and he stepped backward. 'Come on, we'd better get you in the shower or I'm going to forget you're not fair game.' He pulled her to her feet. 'Get out of the rest of those clothes while I find something for you to put on.' He strode to the built-in closet and slid back the door. 'Tomorrow you'll have to make do with a pair of my shorts and a T-shirt while your own things are being laundered. Do you often have to make a run for it with only the clothes on your back?'

'No, this is the first time.' She kicked off her tennis shoes and pulled off her jeans, her gaze fixed on his back as he riffled through the closet. 'Actually, we don't move all that often. Jeffrey sets up operations and lets his clients come to him. We've been on Castellano for about four years.'

'You make him sound like a corporate attorney,' Beau drawled. 'But from what I hear about Castellano, it must have been ideally suited to your friend's occupation.' He pulled out an ice-blue satin negligee trimmed in fine Valenciennes lace. 'I thought I remembered seeing this in there,' he said, looking at it critically. 'Barbara must have forgotten it when she left the ship at Barbados. The blue should be good with your eyes. Do you object to wearing another woman's clothes?'

Barbara? How many of his mistresses had occupied this cabin and why did the thought of those women hurt so much? 'No, I don't mind,' she said softly. 'I'd be awfully ungrateful to be that petty, wouldn't I?'

'I'm glad you're so sensible. I know quite a few women who'd…' He glanced back over his shoulder and the words died away. She was totally naked and standing there gazing at him with clear unflinching honesty. No coyness, just the quiet serene acceptance that had so moved him before. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and weariness in the slight droop of her shoulders, but it didn't affect the valiant sturdiness of her stance. He must be getting old, he thought cynically, he'd never before looked at a lovely naked woman and only noticed how courageous she was. And she was lovely. Those beautiful full breasts flowed into the supple slenderness of her waist and hips and her long legs were strong and shapely. Her entire body was strong and graceful yet there was a fragility about her bone structure that gave her an air of intense vulnerability. Strength and vulnerability. The ambivalent physical mixture was echoed in her personality and he was finding it a very explosive combination, indeed. He glanced at the negligee in his hand and felt a sudden violent distaste he refused to examine too closely. He impulsively hung the robe back in the closet and pulled a white terry-cloth one of his own off its hanger.

'This will be more comfortable,' he said tersely, sliding the closet door closed and tossing the robe on the bunk. 'Come on.' He opened the door to the adjacent bathroom and stepped into its brown and beige ceramic confines. He adjusted the water in the frosted shower stall to a warm soothing flow and stepped aside with a mockingly gallant gesture. 'Mademoiselle. I'll join you in a moment as soon as I get out of these clothes.' The frosted shower door closed between them.

She was glad the sudden hotness of her cheeks could be attributed to the steam that was rising from the water. It had been intimidating enough having him look at her for those long moments with that curiously enigmatic expression, but she hadn't imagined he'd be stripping and stepping into the tiny shower cubicle with her. There was scarcely room for one, much less two, beneath the spray. She drew a deep steadying breath and squared her chin. What earthly difference did it make? Now or later both minor and major intimacies would come at Beau Lantry's discretion. She'd better be prepared to accept that fact.

'Move a little forward, Kate.' The frosted glass door was open and she instinctively obliged as Beau stepped into the shower and closed the door behind him. She could feel the warmth of his chest touching her back as he leaned forward to pick up the soap from the holder. 'Let me get a little of this stench off of me and then I'll take care of you. Tossing garbage cans around and playing with gasoline and trash piles sure tests a man's deodorant.' She could feel him moving behind her, occasionally touching her as he soaped his chest and torso, but she kept her gaze fixed rigidly on the ceramic wall in front of her. 'Are you feeling all right? No dizziness or nausea?'

'No, I told you I was fine,' she said quickly. Except for the way her heart was pounding as if it wanted to jump out of her breast. Except for her skin that was becoming so sensitive to the casual brush of his that it seemed to ache and burn with every touch. 'He didn't hurt me.'

'The hell he didn't.' His hands were at her waist as he shifted her a little to the side so that the full spray of water would hit him and rinse off the film of soap. 'I should have cremated the bastard.'

'You almost did,' she said breathlessly. His hands hadn't lingered on her waist for more than an instant, yet she still felt them there. 'For a second I was almost more afraid of you than I was of them.'

'Afraid?' She could feel his gaze on her but her own remained riveted straight ahead. 'You didn't give the impression of being frightened. If I recall, you wanted to bust in there and take them both on by yourself.'

'That doesn't mean I wasn't afraid,' she said simply. 'It was just something that had to be done. You always have to do what has to be done even if you're not very brave. You simply block out everything and get it over with.'

'Do you?' There was an odd note of tenderness in his voice. 'Then, of course, I was mistaken. No red badge of courage for you.'

'That was a wonderful book, wasn't it?' she asked eagerly, her face lighting up. 'I found an English copy in a used bookstore in Maracaibo a few years ago. I can usually only find Spanish or Portuguese translations and I always think it's much nicer to read a book in the original, don't you?'

'Oh, indubitably,' he drawled. 'How many languages do you read?'

'Spanish and Portuguese,' she answered. 'I speak a little French, but I can't read or write it.'

'What a shame,' he said mildly. 'Turn around here and let me take a look at that head.' His hands were on her shoulders. 'So you're a Stephen Crane fan. Who else do you like?'

'Everyone,' she said with a dreamy smile as she obediently turned to face him. 'Shakespeare, Samuel Clemens, Walter Scott.' His hands were parting the short wet strands that were clinging seal like around her face. 'I particularly like Shakespeare. There's so much music in his words.'

'You have something against the twentieth century?' He was probing gently at the swelling, his expression carefully impersonal.

'No, it's just easier to get hold of the classics in a foreign country.'

'This doesn't seem too bad,' he said, relieved. 'No headache?' His hands fell to her nape and began a gentle kneading massage of the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders.

'No.' She found to her surprise that she was speaking the truth. The painful throbbing had all but disappeared and the combination of the soothing spray and those magical fingers were melting every muscle in her body into a state resembling warm butter. Unconsciously she nestled closer, laying her head on his chest like a contented child. 'It's all gone.'

'Good.' She felt his lips brush her forehead. 'Which Shakespearean play do you like best?'

'Romeo and Juliet. I know it's not considered his most cerebral, but there's something about it that touches me every time. And the words Her arms linked absently about his waist. 'They're like sunlight, all clear and shining and beautiful.'

'Golden rain?' he suggested. His thumb had found the cords of tension in the center of her nape with delicious accuracy.

'Um-hmm.' She nodded, conscious of the damp thatch of hair beneath her cheek and the scent of soap and musk that surrounded him. 'I never thought of it quite like that, but it's a lovely way to describe it. A golden rain of words.' She moved a little closer. 'I love the way-' She broke off as she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. Her eyes widened in shock as they flew down his body.

He chuckled. 'What did you expect? Those pretty nipples have been poking into me, and I've been dying to cuddle that pert little derriere since the instant I stepped in here. I'm not an iron man,