Suzanna's Surrender

“That isn't the point. Alex and Jenny are the point. Somehow I have to convince them that the father who hasn't bothered to contact them in months, who could barely tolerate them when they lived under the same roof, is going to take them on a wonderful two-week vacation.” Suddenly tired, she pushed her hands through her hair. “I didn't come here to talk about this.”

“Yes, you did.” Calmer, Holt lit another cigarette.

If he didn't do something with his hands, he was going to touch her again, and he wasn't sure either of them could handle it “I'm not family, so I'm safe. You can dump on me and figure I won't lose any sleep over it.” She smiled a little. “Maybe you're right, Sorry.”

“I didn't ask for an apology. How do the kids feel about him?” “He's a stranger.”

“Then they probably don't have any preset expectations. Seems to me they might think of the whole thing as an adventure – and that you're letting him push your buttons. If he is using them to get to you, he hit bull's – eye.”

“I'd already come to those same conclusions myself. I needed to vent some excess frustration.” She tried a smile again. “Usually I just pull some weeds.”

“I think kissing me worked better.” “It was different anyway.”

He tapped out his cigarette and rose. The hell with what they could handle. “Is that the best description you can come up with?”

“Off the top of my head. Holt,” she began when he slid his arms around her.

“Yeah?” He nipped at her chin, then her mouth. “I don't want to be held.” But she did, too much.

“That's too bad.” His arms tightened, bringing her closer.

“You asked me to come here so you could...” She made a little sound of distress when he closed his teeth over her earlobe. “You could show me something of your grandfather's.”

“That's right” Her skin smelled like the air high on the cliffs – laced with the sea and wildflowers and hot summer sunlight. “I also asked you here so I could get my hands on you again. We'll just take one thing at a time.”

“I don't want to get involved.” But even as she said it, her mouth was moving to meet his.

“Me, either.” He changed the angle and sucked on her bottom lip. “This is just – oh – chemistry.” Her fingers tangled in his hair.

“You bet.” His rough – palmed hands slipped under her shirt to explore. “It can't go anywhere.”

“It already is.”

He was right about that, as well. For one brief moment she let herself fall into the kiss, into the heat. She needed something, someone. If she couldn't have comfort or compassion, she would take desire. But the more she took, the more her body strained for something just out of reach. Something she couldn't afford to want or need again.

“This is too fast,” she said breathlessly, and struggled away. “I'm sorry, I realize it must seem as though I'm sending you mixed signals.”

He was watching her eyes, just her eyes, as his body pulsed. “I think I can sort them out.”

“I don't want to start something I won't be able to finish.” She moistened her lips still warm from his.

“And I have too many responsibilities, too much to worry about right now to even think about having...”

“An affair?” he finished. “You're going to have to think about it.” With his eyes still on hers, he gathered her hair in his hand. “Go ahead, take a few days. I can afford to be patient as long as I get what I want. And I want you.”

Nerves skittered along her spine. “Just because I find you attractive, physically, doesn't mean I'm going to jump into bed with you.”

“I don't much care whether you jump, crawl or have to be dragged. We can decide on the method later.” Before she could think of a name to call him, he grinned, kissed her then stepped back. “Now that that's settled, I'll take you up and show you the portrait.”

“If you think it's settled because you – what portrait?” “You take a look, then tell me.”

He led the way up into the loft. Torn between curiosity and fury, Suzanna followed him. The only thing she was certain of at the moment was that since she'd met Holt Bradford again, her emotions had been on a roller coaster. All she wanted out of life was a nice smooth, uneventful ride.

“He worked up here.”

The simple statement captured her attention and her interest. “Did you know him well?”

“I don't think anyone did.” Holt moved over to open a tilt – out window. “He came and went pretty much as he pleased. He'd come back here for a few days, or a few months. I'd sit up here sometimes and watch him work. If he got tired of me hanging around, he'd send me out with the dog, or into the village for ice cream.”

“There's still paint on the floor.” Unable to resist, Suzanna bent down to touch. She glanced up, met Holt's eyes and understood.

He'd loved his grandfather. These splotches of paint, more than the cabin itself, were memories. She reached a hand out for his, rising when their fingers linked. Then she saw the portrait.

The canvas was tilted against the wall, its frame old and ornate. The woman looked back at her, with eyes full of secrets and sadness and love.