Secret Nights at Nine Oaks Page 7

  He heard her indrawn breath and stared, horrified as she lost her footing, then dropped backward into the water.

  “Phoebe!” He scrambled to the edge, kneeling, impatient for her to surface. “Phoebe!” Oh God. He drove his hand under the water and felt nothing. Memories of Lily crowded rational thought, his heartbeat escalating out of control.

  Phoebe popped up, pushing her hair out of her face and laughing hysterically. “Oh, for pity sake.”

  “Give me your hand!” He reached out.

  “It’s okay.” She treaded water. “I’m fine.” She dived under, then came up closer to him. Instantly, he scooped her under the arms and lifted her out of the water and onto the dock. Then she was in his arms, his strength crushing her to his body. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breathing fast and harsh.

  Something’s very wrong, Phoebe thought. “You’re getting wet.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Then she realized he was trembling. She eased back to look at him, and brushed his hair off his face, cupped his lean jaw. Then she remembered his wife had died from drowning.

  “Cain, talk to me. I was on a swim team, remember? You don’t have to worry.”

  But he was in another place, in darkness and pain and guilt. She could see it in his eyes, in the way his gaze scraped over her features.

  “Phoebe,” he whispered, passing his hand over her wet hair. Then smoothly he lowered his head, his mouth capturing hers, fusing her with the mind-blowing heat that always bubbled between them.

  It needed only a spark to make it flame, she thought.

  And this was it.

  Six

  If passion had a sound, it was a deep ripping tear. If it could be seen, it was hissing steam vented between them, sliding and pouring over her.

  Her feet left the ground as he stepped back from the edge. But that didn’t stop his consuming kiss, the power grinding through her with nearly painful clarity. She could barely draw a breath his embrace was so tight, his hands fisting in her wet clothes as if to drive her into him.

  She felt gloriously smothered and devoured and wanted.

  And she let go. Of her emotions, her desire. His body hardened against her, thrilling her, and her hands climbed up his chest, wrapping his neck.

  Cain groaned and kept kissing, unwilling to break it off, unwilling to give in to the denial in his mind. His hands charged a wild ride over her body, and as if he couldn’t stand on his own power, he fell back against the support post.

  Phoebe went with him, wedged to him and when he cupped her breast, she thought she’d disintegrate. When he thumbed her nipple, she knew she would.

  She pushed into his touch, letting him know it was okay, that she wanted him, too. Yet she could feel something inside him battling with his need. She hoped he fought it. He broke the kiss only to draw in more air, then devoured her mouth again, moaning deeply when her hands shaped the contours of his chest, and lower.

  She was bold and provocative, and Cain hungered for it, for the womanly sounds, for the feel of her flesh melting with his. He wanted her now, right now, and he tore his mouth from hers, but couldn’t stop as he nibbled her jaw, her throat.

  “Phoebe, you make me crazy.”

  “Oh yeah, same here,” she whispered, sliding her hand down and letting her fingers slip over his erection.

  The sound he made was part pain and part pleasure and she wanted to be naked and warm with him, wanted the freedom to experience, and explore what had haunted her for years.

  He leaned his head back, his lungs laboring. “I’m a basket case around you,” he said, and the hint of regret made her touch his jaw and force him to meet her gaze.

  “Don’t you dare apologize.” She nipped at his mouth.

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  She searched his handsome face for a moment. “You were scared.”

  His features tightened. “Out of my mind.”

  “I can swim, Cain, rather well. I’ll show you the awards for it, if you want?”

  His lips quirked. “Not necessary.”

  “I like that you were, though.”

  “Say again?”

  “Not because of Lily, but that you cared enough.”

  “Oh man, Phoebe. Don’t you get it? I want you like breathing.”

  “And then what?”

  “Huh?”

  “After having me, then what?”

  He said nothing, and she could see the openness she’d just shared with him dissolve a little.

  She stepped back out of his arms, her body still tingling, still hungering. “I see.”

  “Phoebe.” He tried to grab her back.

  “I’m a fantasy, I get it. That’s okay. I’ve never been the fantasy of a recluse before.”

  He didn’t think she was okay with it at all, or she wouldn’t be miffed, and part of him was screaming for joy over it. Yet reality had a way of crashing in and he said, “Yes, I am a recluse, but now, so are you.” He caught her by the arms, turning so her back was to the gazebo railing.

  She frowned up at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Look beyond me, near the fence line.”

  She peered around him, to the woods separating the land from the road and saw a white news van.

  “We both have good reasons.”

  There were photographers in there, she knew. And he was shielding her.

  “Oh no.” Her gaze snapped to his. “Do you think they photographed us?”

  “If they have a long-range lens, yes. Probably.”

  “Great.” Her shoulders drooped.

  “Ashamed?”

  “No. You?” He shook his head, his gaze intense and scrutinizing. “I’m thinking of what the press will do with more pictures. It could hurt you.”

  Though he didn’t care what happened to him, he was moved by the thought. “They’ve been using me for fodder for years, Phoebe, I don’t care.”

  “But you knew they were there?”

  “They’ve pretty much camped out there since you drove through the gates.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” She glanced at him under a lock of deep red hair, smiling devilishly. If those idiots weren’t in the van, she’d have stripped for Cain and played with him right here, right now.

  As if he could understand her thoughts, his expression grew darker, his eyes smoky-brown and sultry. She glanced to the left toward the van they could barely see. Then she ducked low. When he stared down at her frowning, she pulled him to the deck.

  “I say we hide from them.” She started stuffing the picnic lunch back in the basket.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Let’s run. We’ll see if they are really watching.”

  “Phoebe, we don’t have to. Who cares what they want?”

  “I know.” She looked up and the delightful gleam in her eyes caught him in the heart. “It’s the principle of it.”

  She was daring him and Cain felt as if he hovered on the edge of fun. He wanted badly to jump in. “Leave that,” he said suddenly, taking her hand and pulling her from the dock. “We can get it later.” He looked toward the property line and could see figures moving toward a break in the trees. “Run.”

  Phoebe didn’t have to be told twice and barefoot and wet they took off down the dock. Cain’s legs were twice as long, and Phoebe tried to keep up as they raced across the lawn toward the east of the house. The mansion was on a small jut in the land, and they hurried across the curve toward the rear where the pool and stables were located.

  She couldn’t keep up. “Cain,” she said and he paused, glanced, then scooped her up, darting around the edge of the house, then flattening against the wall. She laughed as he lowered her feet to the ground. He kept her close as he peered around the edge.

  “The little fools are moving. I’m betting they’ll try to get near the east orchard.” He shifted back and grinned down at her.

  Her breath caught hard.

  Everything around her
faded at the sight of his handsome face lit up with delight. Her throat tightened and she smiled back, absorbing it. What woman could resist this man when he smiled like that?

  A few yards from them, a groundskeeper paused in pruning bushes, and started moving toward them. “Mr. Blackmon, you all right, sir?”

  “Fine ah…”

  “Mark,” Phoebe supplied softly.

  “We’re fine, Mark. Thanks.”

  The man nodded, not convinced, yet went back to work.

  Cain looked down at her, surprised. “You knew his name?”

  “Yeah, I pay attention.” She nudged him.

  Overhead the sky darkened, rain threatening and she looked up. “Oh no, the quilt!”

  “It’s been left in the rain before and it’s under the gazebo.” He looked around the edge of the wall again.

  “Think we lost them?”

  “Don’t count on it. I suspect the instant they knew I had a houseguest, they beefed up their spying techniques.” He gestured toward the house and they started walking.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “I’m not.”

  “From what I’ve read, they haven’t been kind to you.”

  Her expression saddened. “They’ve single-handedly destroyed my reputation, too.”

  “I think you’ll be more in demand, especially when Kreeg is behind bars for good.”

  “I doubt it. He’s got money and power and that makes people do what the rest of us can’t.”

  He heard a bit of chastising in her tone but let it go. “Such as?”

  “Making certain their side of the story is told and not the real one.”

  “I know he’s lying, Phoebe.”

  “So do I, but the jurors might not, and might think I’m nothing but a gold digger or something.”

  “What does your lawyer think?”

  “That he might get off with a slap on the wrist and a restraining order.”

  No wonder she was scared he’d come after her. “Then you need a new lawyer.”

  “I can barely afford the one I have.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  She stopped walking, and droplets of rain pelted her upturned face. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll make certain you have the best.”

  “No.”

  He scowled. “Why not?”

  “I don’t want charity and I don’t want you dragged into this. It’s bad enough that I have to hide in the first place, but I won’t have your name dragged in the mud with mine.”

  Cain’s gaze sketched her features, his expression hardening. “Do you want him to pay for his crime?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you have to fight fire with fire. Not with a match.”

  She opened her mouth to object and Cain gathered her in his arms, the rain coming harder now. “Let me do this. I can and I want to.” He needed to protect her from Kreeg. Or maybe from himself. She was alone in her battle and she didn’t need to be.

  “Please, Phoebe, I have the resources.”

  Phoebe nodded finally and Cain pressed his lips to her forehead. The clouds unleashed and they stood there in each other’s arms, feeling something weave around them and bind them. Fear eased, loneliness receded.

  Cain wondered how he’d handle those feelings when they came back. When she was gone.

  Yet all Phoebe knew was, for now, she had a true champion.

  Several moments later, Benson appeared at their side, holding an umbrella. “I beg your pardon, sir, but did you by chance notice it was raining?”

  They looked at him, then at each other and laughed.

  “Really?” Cain said and, dismissing the offer of the umbrella, they headed toward the house. The rain fell suddenly harder, lightning cracking overhead, and they ran, ducking inside.

  Cain shook his head like a dog, then looked at her. She was plucking at her shirt molded to her body and showing him the shape and curves beneath. In a flour sack, she’d still be sexy as hell, he thought. A servant showed up with towels, and handed them each one.

  Cain toweled her hair, then wrapped her in the terry cloth blanket.

  “You’ll catch a cold.”

  “I have a great immune system.”

  “Go change before Benson goes all nursemaid on you.”

  Benson made a face as if that behavior was beyond him.

  She nodded and started to walk away, then turned, walking backward. “Cain.”

  He glanced up from rubbing the towel over his hair. “Yes?”

  “Sometimes you surprise me.”

  He smiled gently. “You always surprise me, Phoebe.”

  She turned away, heading to her room, leaving wet footprints on the wood floor.

  Cain looked at Benson, smiling sheepishly, then told him they left the picnic at the gazebo. But Benson simply stared, looking a little stunned.

  “What’s the matter?” Cain asked.

  “It’s been years since I’ve seen you smile, sir.”

  His expression fell a little and Cain glanced to where Phoebe had disappeared. “Yes, I know. Get it while it lasts.” Because when she learns the truth, she’ll be gone.

  Cain had a taste of what life would be like with her and the bittersweet knowledge that he’d never have more was slowly killing him inside.

  An hour later, Cain was in the library, shaking things up. First, he’d called Phoebe’s lawyer and wasn’t impressed. The man was either not good enough to represent her side or was simply too inexperienced to handle Kreeg’s fleet of attorneys.

  So Cain called his own, who enlisted the best criminal lawyer in the state. After half an hour on the phone, he was satisfied that Phoebe was represented fairly. He called his broker next.

  “Sell all of my Kreeg CGI stock.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that, Mr. Blackmon. It’s making you a fortune.”

  “I already have a fortune. Sell it and then buy up the competitor.” He glanced at his notes. “Dream Images.”

  The broker grumbled, but Cain wasn’t budging. He wasn’t intent on ruining Kreeg, but he wasn’t going to back a company whose CEO stalked and attacked women.

  He cut the call and dialed a private investigator. Now that he had Phoebe’s consent, he took control.

  Phoebe knocked on the door, then peered around the edge. Cain was on the phone and looked more than a little irritated with the caller.

  “If he’s done this once, there is reason to believe he’s done it before.” He listened to the caller for a moment. “I’m betting there are more women out there, so find them. Fine, good.” He hung up and looked at her. His expression softened.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Yes, you have. You’ve given Kreeg a reason to be nervous. I take it this is all anonymous?”

  “For anyone but my attorneys, yes. It has to be, for your sake. My name has mud on it, too.”

  Phoebe disagreed, but she wasn’t going to try to persuade him otherwise. His name had fear on it. She wasn’t surprised; he could be rather intimidating when he wanted to and on the phone with whoever that was, she could see he wasn’t taking “I’ll try my best,” for an answer.

  Phoebe admired someone so determined. But it made her wonder again, why, with all he had, he wouldn’t face the world beyond Nine Oaks’ walls. She was confident he’d trust her enough to tell her someday and she didn’t want to press it. She’d seen the side of Cain she remembered and wanted to keep that close for as long as she could.

  The thought made her realize that despite his lifestyle and that annoying way he could shut off his emotions, she was starting to fall for him again.

  “So what are you up to now that it’s raining?” he said.

  A summer storm raged outside but they could barely hear it.

  She shrugged, adjusting her V-neck top. She felt sluggish since she’d showered and slipped into soft jersey slacks and a top. “A
feeble attempt at reading.” She moved to leave. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Wait.” Cain went to the antique sideboard and poured brandy into a snifter, then set it on the warmer.

  Her brows knit as he waited for it to reach the perfect temperature. “Don’t leave.”

  Phoebe’s heart leaped. He was usually telling her to get lost. “If that’s for me, Cain, I don’t need it.”

  “It’s just a little brandy.” He came to her. “Have a seat.”

  She dropped to the cushy sofa and he handed it to her. Then he knelt, his hands on either side of her hips on the cushion. “Your fear makes you so restless. Try sleeping. You look exhausted.”

  Three days here and she still hadn’t slept, he thought. What good was this fortress if she still didn’t feel protected?

  “I know,” she said, “but I can’t seem to rest for long.”

  “Try.” He tipped the snifter to her lips and she sipped. “You’re safe here. I won’t let him touch you again. And in your dreams, he can’t hurt you.”

  “But he does,” she said weakly, her eyes tearing, her wounds showing so clearly, Cain’s heart fractured a little.

  “You give him power when you let him torment you,” he said, brushing layers of hair off her forehead.

  Phoebe fought the urge to turn her face into his palm. “I know.” She sipped again, feeling the warm liquor soften her limbs. “I’d better leave you alone to work.”

  Her lids felt heavy.

  She started to get up, but he kept her there, adjusting the pillows, then taking the finished brandy and easing her to lie down. “You’ll wake up too much if you have to walk upstairs, so sleep right here.”

  “But you’re working.”

  He pulled off her sandals, then grabbed an afghan from an old trunk to cover her. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “Close your eyes.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” She obeyed.

  He smiled with tender humor. “Imp.”

  “Ogre,” she muttered, then sighed into the cushions.

  Cain ached to touch her, to kiss her, but instead he stood, moving to sit behind his desk. He didn’t make a sound, watching her. She looked so tiny on the long sofa. Despite her zest and energy, she was still hurting inside, still tormented. He could learn what Kreeg had done to her from the detectives and lawyers, but it was her private business. He’d wait in the hopes that she’d trust him and tell him herself.