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The two of them exchanged a look. "I can't think of a thing more important than that," Josh grinned. He rose and came to her side, scooping her up in his capable arms. "I like carrying you," he confessed before she could protest. "I haven't. . . " he stopped, and regret passed acros
s his face, but he finished the thought. "I haven't had the chance to take care of a woman in awhile. "
"And you like that?" she asked.
"I need that," he said simply.
Chapter 8
Josh carried her down the hall, being careful not to let her feet hit the wall as he turned the corner.
Lisette's bedroom was as welcoming as the rest of the house, dominated by a bed with a wrought iron headboard, sculpted with a design of leaves and branches that brought to mind the forest that surrounded the house. The quilted spread and plethora of tapestry pillows made it into a nest, an impression furthered by soft green Berber carpet, natural wood panels covering the walls and the lack of windows in the room. As in every other part of the house, the clay and wood offerings of her artistic neighbors created an intriguing journey for the eye. The lighting was purposefully kept dim to enhance the effect of a place to escape and put the heart and mind at ease. Lisette, with her infallible sense of wit, called it The Womb.
"I'll just leave you here," Josh crossed the carpet and turned on the light in the bathroom with a dip and slight upward jerk of his elbow. She could see the spacious bath with its sunken Jacuzzi tub, surrounded by porcelain, silk flowers and stone fountains.
Josh sat her down at the vanity and turned a brass handle on the Jacuzzi controls. It brought the fountains to life, the hot water flowing over their rock foundations and through brass sculptures to give the fairies and butterflies carved into their design life, with artful placement of light and its reflection off the moving water.
"Do you need me to bring you anything?" He nodded toward the fountains. "They'll fill up the tub in a few minutes, and you can use that control to turn the flow of the water into the separate channel drain, so the fountains will keep going but the tub won't overflow. It's programmed for 106 degrees. "
"Really?" Lauren raised a brow. "And how would you know so much about how Lisette's tub works?"
Josh chuckled. "Get serious. I'm the one who programmed it for her. You know she can't even operate a blender without supervision. "
Lauren grinned. "I know. But I was hoping to get a rise out of you. "
"Believe me, you've done that more than once tonight. " His eyes clouded. "I'm sure you know it. "
Lauren's brows drew together on her forehead. "Josh, I'm sorry. I'm not. . . I mean. . . " She sighed as the tension in his jaw eased into impassivity, and she felt something slipping away. She almost lunged after it, scrabbling like a starving dog for a scrap, but she'd been in that hell before and knew where it went. "I've had fun tonight," she said, her fingers knotted, restrained in her lap. "But it wasn't at your expense. I just haven't enjoyed someone's company. . . just enjoyed, for awhile. And Marcus made it sound so easy to trust, like we've been doing. I guess, . . . " Her words died, "I guess I wanted to believe. . . " She didn't seem capable of developing the cynical skepticism she had certainly earned the right to have. She should be pulling out the armor that this moment of withdrawal seemed to call for.
She looked up into Josh's eyes and was startled to see a vulnerability that did not match the bitterness of his words. That fragility reminded her of a child, waiting with his hands down for the next blow, believing somehow in the miracle that the next touch from a clenched fist would be a caress.
He dropped to one knee in front of her, covering her twisting fingers with one callused palm. "You weren't wrong," he said. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. "
She suspected they both had been slogging through a dumpsite of emotions for so long they were unbalanced to find they had stepped into a fragrant garden. They should probably just turn and retreat, not drag the stench and offal clinging to them into it. However, like all lost souls, they were desperate for the sunshine and earth that could be found in fertile ground.
How could she not forgive him? His warm skin over her knuckles was making her itch to touch. And he made it worse, the way his gaze lingered, hungered, but he made no further attempt to touch her. She understood the primitive nature of what lay behind his eyes.
"Hold still," she said softly, wanting to test it. "Put your hands at your sides. "
Josh studied her, blinked once, that sensual mouth twitching at one corner. He took his hands from hers, lowering them to his sides as he knelt before her.
Lauren reached out and slid her knuckles along the curve of his neck, trailed her fingertips in the hair that lay on his shoulder. A breath shuddered out of her at the adrenaline that surged through her veins. Her palm flattened against his pectoral, just over his heart. She raised her gaze from avid appreciation of the line of his ribcage and flat abdomen, to the stillness of his face, the lion rising in his eyes. It was masculine power that could overwhelm her, but for now was held in check. She leaned forward, breathing along his jawline. She placed a gentle kiss, just a soft brush of lips, against the corner of his mouth. "Forgiven," she murmured.
She sat back, taking her touch away, and looked at him. A rueful expression twisted his firm mouth and he made to rise.
"No. " She took his hand.
"You're killing me," he muttered, and she nodded, simple unrepentant acknowledgement of her power over him.
"Marcus said it was my card. Do you trust me?"
"How could I not? You're like. . . " he lost the train of thought as he stared into her steady blue eyes, and she loved him for it. "It's your card," he murmured. "I'll do whatever you want me to do. " And the bleakness was back in his face.
"Josh, what did she do to you?" she said softly.
A sigh escaped his lips, just a breath, and she saw his eyes close. He bent forward on his one knee, laid his cheek alongside her calf, and brushed a kiss just above her ankle. Then, his back curving, he went lower, to the insole, his lips parting so he nipped some of her skin in the moist caress. He stayed there, without kissing her further, his jaw pressed against her leg.
Lauren lowered her hand and stroked his hair, somehow understanding that he would not rise until she bade him do so. Her eyes moved along the bare ridge of his spine, the way his hair beneath her fingers fell along his shoulders and forward, curtaining his profile from her.
