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“I—I can’t.”
“Sure, you can.” His mouth was wet velvet, smooth and slick, his tongue wantonly teasing her as he slid her jeans over her hips.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should stop him, that letting him touch her was downright dangerous, but as he trailed his tongue along her bare skin, she melted inside and passion ruled over reason. His lips were hot, his breath a warm summer breeze that rolled over her, and she trembled deep inside.
This was wrong. So how could it feel so right? Through her panties his lips and tongue touched her, parting her legs, creating a hot pool of lust that ached for all of him. “Mason, please…” she rasped as he teased at the elastic of her underwear with his teeth.
He slipped his hands beneath the silk. “Trust me,” he said, and her heart nearly broke. Hadn’t she trusted him with her love—with her very life—ten years ago?
Slowly he touched her. With infinite care he explored and caressed while his lips pressed anxious kisses to her abdomen. She closed her eyes and the world seemed to swirl on a new and separate axis. He rimmed her navel with his tongue and she felt perspiration soak through her skin. She knew nothing more than the feel and smell of hi
m. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the storm of desire sweeping through her, moved under the gentle tutelage of his fingers, cried out as the world spun out of control and the universe, stars and rainbows collided behind her eyes.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered as she quivered and his arms surrounded her. He kissed her gently on the stomach, then held her close.
Her mind reeling, she looked up into his gold eyes. “But—” she cleared her throat “—what about…what about…you?”
With a cynical smile, he drew her even closer, his nose pressed to the crook of her neck. “Another time, darlin’,” he promised, then kissed the side of her throat. “Another time.”
* * *
Despite the open windows, the air inside the house was airless and hot. Most of the tension was due to the fact that Brynnie had come over to make amends with her intended, but some of the frustration Bliss was feeling was because she hadn’t seen Mason in several days. She didn’t understand what had happened to them up on the ridge—why he hadn’t made love to her—and she hadn’t been able to think of much else.
“A curse, that’s what it is,” she told Oscar, and the dog, seated on a chair, his chin between his paws, wagged his tail. “Men. Who needs them?”
As for her father, John Cawthorne wasn’t ready to reconcile with Brynnie. He obviously felt betrayed and bamboozled and kept reminding the woman he supposedly loved that she was some kind of traitor.
“Oh, I give.” Bliss threw down her pencil and walked from the den toward the kitchen. As she passed the dining-room windows, she heard the sound of tires crunching against the gravel in the driveway.
For a split second she thought Mason might have come by the house and her heart did a stupid little leap, but she glanced out the window and spied Katie, all business, striding to the front door. Disappointment settled upon her, though she couldn’t explain why. Just because she hadn’t seen Mason in a few days was no reason to get a case of the blues. Oh, she was being such a ninny. What did she care about him? Who cared if she spent her nights sleeplessly remembering how he kissed her and caused her insides to tremble?
The bell rang just as Bliss yanked open the door. Oscar let out a few excited barks and scrambled to the doorway, jumping wildly on Katie as she breezed into the house. “Hi,” Katie said a trifle breathlessly. “Is Mom here?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Good.” Katie hurried down the hallway to find her mother stirring a bowl of strawberries, sugar and pectin together as she made freezer jam. John was sitting at the table reading the paper.
“Katie!” Her mother looked up and beamed. “What brings you out here?”
“I, uh, thought it might be a good time for Bliss to meet Tiffany.” She glanced at Bliss. “I know it’s kind of sudden, but I’m not working today and Josh is over at Laddy’s, so I thought if you have the time…”
Bliss cleared her throat and noticed that her father, looking over the tops of his reading glasses, was staring at her. There was something akin to hope in his eyes. “Are you sure she wants to meet me?”
“I don’t know,” Katie replied honestly.
“Why wouldn’t she?” John demanded.
“Oh, Dad, come on. If you can’t figure it out, I’m not going to spell it for you.”
“You’re a wonderful person and—”
“And I’m your daughter. Your legitimate daughter—the one you claimed.”
“We’re all adults now,” he said stubbornly. “And she’s got a couple of kids. I’m their grandfather.”
Grandfather. Bliss held back the argument that was brewing in her mind. Her father was a grandfather—three times over—and though she had trouble with the concept, he didn’t. A little spurt of jealousy flowed through her veins. For most of her life she’d thought she would be the only bearer of Cawthorne grandkids. If she could. That was still a question. It was funny, in a bitter way, how life had turned out, and again she felt an empty space, a small hole in her life—one that only a child could fill.
“That’s why I think we should talk to Tiffany. See her face-to-face,” Katie said.
