Remember the Dreams Page 10

  His quickly shuttered eyes darted to the serving platters she had just taken out of the warming oven, and his next words, though even, were very quiet. "It looks like I should have had dinner on the plane."

  Tearing her glance from his now enigmatic expression, she redirected it to the platter he was staring at. Oh, geeze, she moaned to herself, I thought he liked chicken!

  She glanced back up to see him raking his fingers through his wind-blown hair, and he tossed her a rueful smile. "I used to have a system worked out with my roommate in college," he said, confusing her completely. "If one of us wanted to have some privacy, we'd hang a tie on the outside doorknob. That way the other guy'd know that something was going on inside. Guess we're going to have to devise a similar system, huh?" He pulled his tie from around his neck and she wondered if he was going to hand it to her. He didn't. "In the meantime, I'll get out of your way. How long do I have before he gets here?"

  Confusion jerked to understanding. Using her blandest tone, she turned around and reached for the silverware. "The only person I'm expecting is you. So why don't you go get out of your jacket and get comfortable. Do you want a drink before dinner?"

  That puzzled look slipped back into his eyes again. "Sure. But I thought we were going out tonight. How come you went to so much trouble?" His head dipped in the general direction of the back of the house. "And what's the wine in by the spa for? And the fire?"

  Toni had no pyrotechnic skills at all, and Kyle knew it. Tonight, she had cheated and bought one of those paper and wax wrapped logs at the grocery store. It didn't snap and crackle, but the glow was right.

  "I like fires on rainy nights." She shrugged, loading platters and plates on a tray to carry them into the living room. They'd be having dinner in there tonight. "I thought you'd be tired after being out of town all week and might just want to stay home and relax." She ignored his question about the wine.

  Kyle seemed to accept her logic, though she didn't miss his thoughtful frown when he followed her out of the kitchen.

  She placed the tray on the coffee table and they lowered themselves to the floor, facing the fire. The staging had come from a book. But from here on out, everything was up to her—and Kyle.

  He wasn't cooperating.

  She had spent fifteen minutes creating the softly romantic lighting. She'd played with the dimmer switch for the recessed lights in the ceiling until the perfect enhancement for the flickering gold fire had been achieved. Kyle immediately ruined the effect by getting up and turning on the table lamps.

  "I wanted to show you this chart," he explained, pulling his briefcase down with him as he settled beside her again. He plopped a graph between their plates, and Toni stared at it bale-fully. If she had looked up, she would have seen how careful he was to keep his suspicious smile hidden. "You've worked with this kind of thing before and ..."

  All through dinner, which he devoured ravenously while she sat there picking at the mushrooms in her rice, he could only talk about cotton futures, the new Security and Exchange Commission rulings and his blasted chart.

  Trying to change the subject hadn't helped. Alluding to how peaceful it was to watch the flames licking at the log in the fireplace had brought nothing but a strange, mysterious little glance and then he'd stabbed another piece of chicken before launching into another dissertation about the market.

  Toni sank into silence, nodding at appropriate intervals. If she didn't do something soon, he'd probably get up and turn on the television when they finished eating.

  She was so preoccupied with her next move— and the knot of nerves tangled in her stomach that was the result of Kyle's presence as much as anything else—that she didn't notice how quiet he'd become.

  Kyle drained the last of his drink. Shifting slightly, he turned to face her, propping one arm on the coffee table and his other on the sofa. She was only an arm's length away and looked like a disgruntled angel, with her legs tucked up under her and her caftan pooled in soft folds on the floor. Her hair almost touched the floor, too. And the white gold tresses reminded him of the fragile white stuff his mother put on the mantel at Christmas. Angel hair, he smiled to himself.

  Watching her fingers toy with the pearl hanging at the base of her throat while she studied the fire, he saw her bottom lip slide between her teeth. She was acting very much like she used to whenever she was faced with a problem she couldn't quite solve. Uncertain, yet determined to come to grips with it. He was almost positive he knew what that problem was.

  The signals he'd been picking up from her all evening—longer than that if he was going to be honest with himself—could hardly be misconstrued. He'd have to be as dense as a medieval forest not to realize what she was up to.

  His tone was purposefully casual. "What's on your mind, princess?"

  Startled blue eyes flew toward him and her hand fell to her lap. "Ah . . . nothing." She smiled. "I was just listening to you."

  "I haven't said anything for the last five minutes." Amusement touched his lips. "Do you want to tell me why you're so nervous?"

  "I'm not nervous," she lied, wondering what had given her away.

  Kyle told her.

  "Anytime you start playing with your necklace, I know that you're anxious about something. And you still haven't told me why you've got a thirty-five-dollar bottle of wine chilling in the other room. Are we supposed to be celebrating some ..." His eyebrows lowered as a flicker of doubt shadowed his features. "You didn't find a house while I was gone, did you?"

  He didn't look pleased, which pleased Toni enormously.

  "I hardly had time to look for a place," she commented, injecting the proper note of dryness into her tone. Telling herself that it was now or never, she drew herself to her feet. "And the wine was on sale." That hardly explained why it was sitting in the ice bucket by his spa, but she couldn't exactly come right out and tell him why it was there. If he didn't start getting the message soon though, she just might have to.

  Kyle watched her lean over to put the dishes on the tray, her hair spilling over her shoulder. He wanted to push it back, run its softness through his fingers. But he didn't. He had to be certain that he wasn't misinterpreting what seemed so obvious. There was only one way to do that.

  Her fingers were trembling as she reached for an empty glass.

  Pulling himself up beside her, he took the glass from her hand and pressed her palm between his. He felt her stiffen, then relax as she tipped her head back to look up at him.

  "Ok, kid," he prodded, forcing his eyes not to wander to her mouth, that beautiful, seductive mouth, "talk."

  "About what?"

  "About whatever it is that's on your mind."

  Her long lashes formed feathery crescents as she looked down at their hands. It wasn't her imagination. His thumb was actually moving back and forth across her wrist. That was not a brotherly gesture. "And if I don't feel like talking?"

  "You will," he assured her confidently. "We'll go open that unexplained bottle of wine and then you'll talk to me. Alcohol loosens tongues, you know?" Dropping her hand, he jammed his into his pockets. "Meet me in my room in two minutes."

  Something in his voice was giving her the confidence that had been flagging only moments ago. "Is that an order?"

  "Absolutely."

  "And what if I. . ."

  His eyes narrowed in teasing challenge. "Don't push it, Collins. Two minutes. My room."

  Two minutes later, Toni hadn't moved from where she had sat down on the arm of the sofa. She had finished the rest of her drink though.

  "Toni?" Kyle's voice cut through the walls separating them. "Your time's up. And bring a corkscrew."

  Stuffing her hand into her pocket, her fingers folded over a corkscrew and a tortoiseshell comb. A half-dozen deep breaths and a thousand frantic heartbeats later, she stood somewhat hesitantly on the black tiles surrounding the equally black hot tub. Kyle was already in it.

  She couldn't see anything but a froth of foaming water below the fla
t male nipples on his chest. His broad shoulders glistened in the diffused lighting of the steamy plant-filled room, and his arms were slung out, resting on the lip of the curving tub.

  Another steadying breath and she tossed him the corkscrew. The muscles of his arms and chest constricted smoothly with his effortless move to catch it.

  He mumbled something that sounded like, "Nice throw," and missed the funny little moan that weighted her throat.

  Toni was fine as long as her fingers were occupied with the task of twisting her hair up and securing it with the comb. At least that's what she was telling herself. Kyle wasn't looking at her anyway. He was studying the label on the wine.

  "I put a tee-shirt on my bed for you," he said absently.

  She didn't acknowledge him—and her fingers felt a little shaky as she reached for the zipper of her caftan and began to pull it down.

  Kyle glanced up and his gaze fastened on her hand.

  It seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort for him to meet her watchful eyes.

  The look on his face and his remark about the tee-shirt told Toni that he remembered that she didn't have a bathing suit.

  Making the most of the moment, she let the silky fabric fall slowly to a puddle at her feet.

  Chapter 6

  Kyle's jaw sagged in disappointment; his eyes closed in relief. Quite predictably, that crazy combination of reactions vanished with the slow blink of his lashes.

  "Need a hand?" he asked blandly, standing up to extend his as she moved to the step beside him.

  Keeping her eyes on the step so she wouldn't slip and do something totally graceless, she felt rather than saw Kyle watching her ankles, calfs and thighs disappear into the warm water. She felt his eyes continue upward. The top of her white maillot was quite modest—no sense calling any attention to her lesser attributes—but the high, French cut of its legs made her legs appear even longer.

  Toni lifted her head to smile up at him, but he had already let go of her hand and turned around to open the wine.

  "Seventy-nine was a good year for this."

  She was staring at the shadow of his dark, and very brief, swim trunks below the water line and was following the indentation of his spine upward to his broad shoulders. Michaelangelo couldn't have sculpted the male anatomy more perfectly.

  "I'm sorry," she mumbled to his back. She couldn't seem to make her eyes move. "What did you say?"

  "The wine. The Maconnais district produced an excellent white Burgundy in '78 and '79."

  "Excellent," she swallowed.

  There was something very compelling about the way the rivulets of water traced the outline of his hard muscles, and the way those wide shoulders tapered to such a tight little . . . She gave her head a shake. The hot water must be making her a little fuzzy, and she needed to keep her wits about her.

  He turned around, and her glance fell on the purplish bruise on his left side. With forced ease, she raised her eyes to his. "Does it still hurt?"

  It was impossible not to know what she was talking about.

  "Only when I laugh," he commented dryly.

  "Then I guess we'll have to stick to serious subjects."

  "Is the subject you wanted to talk about all that serious?"

  "I'm not the one who wanted to talk. That was your idea."

  Though amusement curved his firm mouth at her pointed reminder, Kyle was watching her intently. Toni couldn't tell if it was the powerful jet she was standing next to, or the way he was looking at her, that caused the odd, surging sensations she was experiencing at the moment.

  "Why don't you tell me what you had in mind then?" he suggested.

  She opened her mouth to speak. But quickly closed it again and jerked her eyes to the bubbles breaking rapidly on the surface of the water.

  Taking her by the shoulders, Kyle pushed her down onto the bench molded into the spa and handed her one of the filled goblets. "Down the hatch," he ordered. "By the time you finish your half of the bottle, Uncle Kyle will have pried it out of you."

  Something in his tone made his obvious reminder of how he viewed their relationship sound strangely like a test. And Toni had the uncomfortable feeling that the tables were turning somehow.

  "You're not my uncle," she stated, taking a sip of the wine she didn't want.

  "Ok. Brother Kyle, then."

  "That makes you sound like a monk. And you're not my brother either."

  Though her tone was mildly teasing, there was no humor in her eyes. There was in Kyle's though. "I didn't mean it literally," he defended.

  "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want you to mean it figuratively either?"

  She had spoken the words quickly, knowing that if she'd hesitated at all, she would have lost her nerve. All she could do now was watch while he sat down a couple of feet away. That, and hold her breath.

  Kyle absently tasted his wine, tipping the glass to thoughtfully study its pale clarity. Toni thought her lungs would explode if he didn't say something soon.

  He took another sip and directed his question to the stem of his goblet. "Does this mean I've been disinherited?"

  The air slid between her teeth in a soft rush. Was the man trying to be obtuse? Or did that particular trait come naturally?

  She'd give it one last shot. If this didn't work. . .

  Her courage must be born of love. She'd never have the nerve to do this otherwise.

  Placing her glass on the lip of the tub, she glanced over his shoulder. There were two little buttons behind him. One was for the Jacuzzi-type jets, and the other controlled the aerator that caused the turbulent bubbles. "You don't mind if I turn this off, do you? It's sort of noisy."

  Not waiting for a response, she leaned across him, flattening her breasts against his chest and draping her arm over his shoulder. One quick tap of her finger and the bubbles disappeared.

  She felt his chest expand as he inhaled sharply, and a thousand little shocks darted through her. He didn't move. But his expression remained frustratingly blank.

  "Is that better?" he asked, his eyes following his hand while he raised the glass again. He took another swallow, then pronounced, "This really is very good."

  She stifled a defeated moan. Here she was draped across him like a sacrificial mermaid, and all he was interested in was the blasted wine!

  Well, she'd done everything she could think of short of attacking him, and she wasn't about to make a bigger fool of herself than she already had.

  Her knee rested against the side of his hip. She had to push against him to maintain her balance as she pulled away—or started to pull away. His other hand had settled on her thigh.

  "You didn't answer me." Kyle set his glass down, leaving his arm draped over the edge of the spa. "I asked you if it was better."

  Her throat felt tight. "It's quieter with the aerator off." She felt his fingers move upward on her thigh, stilling when they settled on her hip. The water was warm, but the skin beneath his hand felt much warmer.

  "I'm not talking about the spa equipment."

  "I am," she said, trying to defend herself.

  "No, you're not. And I think you might as well tell me just what it is that you want."

  She was drowning. Not in the heated water gently surging around them, but in the liquid depths of his smoky gray eyes. His gaze fell to her mouth.

  "I just ..." The words stuck. She lowered her head, unable to meet the demand in his expression. There were droplets of water shimmering through the dark hairs on his chest, and she could see the pulse beating at the base of his strong neck.

  For someone who never hesitated when it came to juggling millions of dollars, who took on risks and attacked matters with aggression, she was definitely lacking in those assertive traits now.

  "You just. . . ?" Kyle prompted.

  Her voice was thready, and faint. "I. . . just wanted you to . . . hold me."

  A soft whisper of breath tickled her forehead, and she felt his hand drift over her hip as his arm s
lid around her back. "Come here."

  Toni could scarcely breathe. The buoyancy of the water allowed him to lift her easily, and he settled her on his lap. His forearm stayed securely around her back, his hand folded over her stomach. An enervating flutter began to radiate downward from there. With his free hand, he coaxed her head to his shoulder, then allowed his fingers to rest on the side of her neck.

  "We all need to be held at times, princess." His lips brushed her brow. "But is that all you want?"

  His last words were nothing more than a whisper. Toni didn't hear them over the pounding of her heart, and the beat of Kyle's echoing in her ear. This is where she wanted to be. This is what she had dreamed of. Just being held by him. It would be enough, for now.

  A soft whimpering sound escaped from her throat, and his thumb slid over to still the one that followed.

  Kyle was barely aware of the soft kisses he was raining in her hair, conscious only of her fingers wending through the wet curls on his chest and the feel of her shallow breath cooling his heated skin. He would only do what she had asked. He would just hold her—and wait to see what she might do.

  Toni tipped her head back, the blue of her eyes almost hidden by the heavy fringe of her lashes. Her lips were parted and looked so soft. Kyle felt dazed. Like everything had just taken on some unreal quality that made rationality an unwanted intruder. There was no mistaking what she wanted. At the moment, that was all he wanted, too.

  Her eyes closed as his hand folded over her breast, and his lips lowered to hers.

  She was kissing him back. Inviting him into the sweet warmth of her mouth. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers and encouraging the tiny, mewing sounds buried in her throat. She leaned against his hand, compelling the gentle manipulation of his fingers. Even with the heat of the water swirling around them, and through the flimsy fabric covering her, he could feel her nipple hardening.