Trouble In Triplicate Page 7

  "Honey, I don't think we have much of a choice," he replied calmly. "Not if there's a tree blocking the road."

  "You can drive over the branches, can't you?"

  "Drive over a giant pin oak? Are you kidding? I have a Ferrari, Juliet, not a bulldozer."

  "There must be a way to get back to Charlottesville," she insisted. "Maybe we can drive around the tree, alongside the road."

  "There are woods on either side of the road," he reminded her. "Thick, dense, uncut woods. And if you think I'm going to even attempt to drive my car through a mountain forest—in the middle of a severe storm yet!—you're out of your sweet little mind."

  Mrs. Castle came over to their table. "Is everything all right?" she asked solicitously. She was going from table to table, reassuring the guests.

  Who didn't seem to need reassurance at all, Juliet thought as she glanced around the dining room. Nobody seemed upset or anxious about being trapped here, nobody but herself. Because all the others were travelers or lovers who'd planned to spend the night here all along.

  "Is the road really impassable?" she asked the older woman.

  "I'm afraid so," Mrs. Castle replied. "My husband drove down to the site. He told me that the tree is enormous and is lying at an angle across the road. Bulletins are being issued over the Charlottesville radio stations and a patrol car has been stationed along Route 250 to prevent travelers from using the road."

  "And are all of your rooms rented for the night?" Caine asked. "Do you have any extra ones available?"

  Mrs. Castle shook her head. "We're completely full up." She glanced at Juliet's stricken face. "Now, don't you worry about the storm, dear. You'll be perfectly safe here. And I'm sure they'll have the road cleared by noon tomorrow."

  Someone called to her from another table, and Mrs. Castle bustled off, leaving Juliet and Caine alone once more. Juliet twisted her napkin and deliberately avoided Caine's eyes. They sat in silence for a long moment before Caine finally spoke.

  "Mrs. Castle misinterpreted the cause of anxiety in those big blue eyes of yours, didn't she, Juliet? It's not the storm that has you worried. It's the thought of spending the night with me." He gave a light, mocking laugh. "Let me assure you that your virtue is perfectly safe, little girl. I have no intention of forcing myself on you."

  His words stung her. "I'm not a little girl. And I'm not a neurotic Victorian maiden fearing the loss of my virtue, either. I just don't care to be exploited by a—a renowned wolf!"

  "Renowned wolf?" Caine had the nerve to laugh. "Tell me, Juliet, which do nubile young virgins fear the most, renowned wolves or swinging playboys?"

  His dark eyes were gleaming with laughter. Despite her tension, Juliet felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips in response. "You're an idiot, Saxon." She impulsively tossed a breadstick at him, which he caught deftly as it sailed across the table.

  "Old Snake Saxon hasn't lost his magic hands." He pretended to spike the breadstick.

  "I saw one of the catches you made with your magic hands in a game on TV a couple of years ago. The Steelers were playing the Cincinnati Bengals and you leaped through the air like a ballet dancer and caught the ball."

  Juliet smiled in reminiscence. At the time she'd been impressed that such a big man could be so graceful. And now he was here, sitting across from her at the table, watching her with warm amber eyes. A spark of heat flickered deep in the core of her. His eyes were such an unusual, intriguing color. . . .

  "You only saw one of the catches I made?" He pretended to be insulted. "Sweetheart, I made hundreds of catches that were just as impressive."

  "Your modesty is truly inspiring, Saxon."

  "I have some of my better plays on videotape. I'll show them to you sometime."

  "Is that the football player's equivalent of inviting a woman up to see his etchings?" she asked teasingly.

  "But of course." He laughed his low, sexy laugh. "Come on, Juliet." He stood up and held out his hand to her. "Let's go to bed."

  Her eyes flashed. "You're deliberately trying to rattle me, Caine Saxon." She rose from her chair and clutched her purse, ignoring his outstretched hand. "Well, it's not going to work. I'm not going to stammer and blush and otherwise make a fool of myself so you can sit back and laugh your head off."

  "Excellent. I'd much rather have a feisty virgin on my hands than a nervous one. "

  Juliet laughed. She couldn't help herself. The man was outrageous. And then she realized that she was no longer in a panic about being stranded here for the night. Caine had put her at ease by making her laugh. He had known how apprehensive she was and had soothed her fears in a humorous, unobtrusive way.

  "Why don't you call home and let your sisters know where you are while I take care of the bill and get the room key," he suggested as they walked from the dining room.

  Her sisters! Juliet's eyes widened. Good Lord, she'd been so absorbed in Caine Saxon, she'd forgotten all about them. That was new. She always thought of her sisters first. Anyone else came in third.

  Olivia answered the telephone on the second ring. "Julie! I've been so worried about you! Where are you? Bobby Lee heard on his CB that there's a tree down, blocking 250 west of Charlottesville."

  "Uh, yes, there is, Liwy. I'm—we're sort of stranded here at the Apple Country Inn until tomorrow."

  "You and Caine? For the whole night?" Liwy gulped. "In—in the same room?"

  "All the rooms are booked, except this one that Caine had reserved for Grant and Randi," Juliet replied in what she hoped was a matter-of-fact tone.

  "In the same bed?" squeaked Liwy.

  Juliet's heart lurched. "I don't know, Liwy. I haven't seen the room yet."

  "It'll have a double bed, all right. Probably with a canopy," Liwy said glumly. "It will be cozy and romantic and you'll fall madly in love and then I'll have two sisters who are bonkers over the Saxon brothers!"

  "Liwy—"

  "Julie, please don't—" Liwy sighed. "I don't even know what to warn you against. You're about to spend the night with a gorgeous hunk who has a magnificent body and the most effective lines this side of the James River. And he's a Saxon! Oh, Julie!" Her voice rose on a wail.

  "Liwy, calm down," Juliet soothed. "Nothing is going to happen."

  "If you believe that, you really are a babe in the woods, Julie!"

  Juliet decided a change of subject was definitely in order. "Liwy, is Randi home? Did she say what happened between her and Grant tonight? Is she . . . terribly upset?"

  "I don't know what's going on with Randi. She came marching in here full of fire and absolutely furious with Grant Saxon. Apparently, she walked out on htm at the inn tonight. And now she's up in her room playing songs like 'I Am Woman' and 'I Will Survive' and 'You're No Good.' It's a whole new phase."

  "It sounds as if she's declared war on him," Juliet said thoughtfully. "But at least she's not crying."

  "No, at least she's not crying," repeated Olivia. "But now you're about to get all tangled up with Caine Saxon. Do you want me to put Randi's 'Hurts So Bad' record in your room so you'll have it handy?"

  "Do you think you could get me a copy of'Send in the Clowns' instead?"

  "Julie, this is no laughing matter!"

  "Caine's coming, Liwy. I'll see you tomorrow. And don't worry about me!" She hung up the phone and watched Caine walk toward her, his large, muscular body as strong and lithe and powerful as a lion's.

  A rush of warmth surged through her. Liwy didn't have to worry about her tonight. Caine Saxon was really a very nice man. He wasn't a smooth operator bent on seduction. Unless ... he didn't want her enough to make the effort? The thought jarred her.

  But it certainly made sense, a wry little voice inside her head said. Why would a renowned wolf/ swinging playboy want a small-town twenty-six-year-old virgin? The man had dated Miss USA, for Pete's sake! He'd enjoyed a well-publicized fling with a television actress, he'd been photographed with a full year's worth of Playmates of the Month! And had he also had not-
so-well-publicized flings with all twelve of them? she wondered. Her spirits took a definite nose dive.

  "Mrs. Castle says that mugs of hot cider will be served in front of the fireplace," Caine said. He stopped directly in front of her, assessing her with those leonine eyes of his. He was very close, so close that he need only lift his hand to touch her. But he didn't. "Mr. Castle plays the piano and they're going to hold a group sing-along. Do you feel like joining in?"

  "Do you?" Juliet countered. She couldn't think of anything she'd rather do less. But perhaps Caine wanted to sing and sip hot cider around the fire with the group. Why else would he have mentioned it? Perhaps he considered it a more appealing alternative than being cooped up in a bedroom with an inexperienced woman—and the sister of his brother's ex-fiancee at that.

  The thought that he didn't want her was abominably painful . . . because she wanted him. The insight shook her. She didn't want to spend a chaste night in bed with Caine Saxon. She wanted to sample more of the passion they'd discovered together in the rain tonight. She wanted to follow it, to see where it all would lead. . . .

  "A group sing-along, eh?" he said. "Oh well, why not?" He shrugged and forced a smile. He decided that he would rather attempt single-handedly to remove the giant pin oak from the road than to gather around a piano and sing tonight. And he'd always loathed hot cider.

  But Juliet's lovely eyes had darkened with some emotion he couldn't quite define. Anxiety? Uncertainty? Was she still unnerved by the prospect of spending the night with him? She'd just finished talking to her sisters, and no doubt that had upset her too.

  He wanted to take her into his arms and reassure her that she had nothing to fear from him, that he would never hurt her or force her into anything. But the passion that flared between them whenever she was in his arms was too volatile to risk arousing. It would be a short step from soothing her to . . . other things.

  He scowled, feeling ridiculously noble. Two days ago he wouldn't have dreamed of trying to protect a woman from her own responses when she was in his arms. "Send in the Clowns." Good grief, was this the way it had happened to Grant?

  "This way," they heard a voice call. A waitress dressed in a pinafore was directing the guests to a large, oak-paneled room with a piano and a roaring fire in the stone fireplace. Juliet and Caine followed the crowd inside.

  Mr. Castle was leading the group in an off-key rendition of "Jeepers Creepers." Mrs. Castle handed everyone a mug of steaming hot cider with the inevitable cinnamon stick in it. Caine stifled a grimace. It occurred to him that Juliet was the only woman in the world for whom he would endure this.

  The singing continued for the next half hour. Mr. Castle had a wide, eclectic repertoire. He knew and was able to play almost every song that anyone requested.

  Caine hoped he looked jocular enough. He was certainly trying, although every time he gazed at Juliet's soft mouth and sparkling blue eyes he ached for her. It was a most exquisite form of torture.

  Juliet found it extraordinarily difficult to keep from melting against Caine every time their shoulders accidentally touched or their eyes met. She felt as if she were burning with a fever that only Caine's kisses could assuage, but she had to grin and sing the lyrics to "The Old Gray Mare" like a good sport. It was pure torture.

  "Do you know 'Send in the Clowns'?" asked a portly middle-aged man who'd been requesting show tunes continually. Mr. Castle obligingly began to play it.

  Caine and Juliet looked at each other. She started to giggle—she couldn't help it. The expression on Caine's face was priceless.

  "Oh, no!" He caught her arm and fairly dragged her from the room. "I can't take it."

  They were both laughing as they spilled into the hallway. Juliet grinned up at Caine, her eyes shining. "At last, a reprieve!"

  "A reprieve?" He stared at her. "I thought you wanted to be there, singing along with the group."

  "Not me." She shook her head. "I thought you did."

  He groaned. "Juliet, you'll never know how much I did not want to be there."

  She tilted her head slightly to gaze up at him through demurely lowered lashes. "Caine." She tucked her hand into his and moved closer. "Let's go to bed."

  Chapter 6

  The blue and white bedroom was charmingly decorated with ruffled curtains, a patchwork quilt, and a double bed with a canopy. It was small and cozy and romantic, just as Liwy had said it would be. Juliet glanced up at Caine, who stood by her side, staring at the bed.

  He cleared his throat. "I'll. . . er, wash up in the bathroom while you . . . uh, get undressed, Juliet."

  The bathroom door closed behind him. Juliet heard him turn the key in the lock. She stood in the middle of the room, nonplussed by Caine's sudden flight. Was he nervous? Caine Saxon? She mentally scoffed at the notion.

  She wasn't nervous. Not now. She unzipped her dress and hung it carefully on a hanger in the small closet. No, she wasn't nervous at all. Somehow it felt right being here with Caine. She felt safe. Her body began to tingle with anticipatory excitement. She felt safe, yet more excited and alive than she'd ever felt in her life. It should have been an odd contradiction, but it wasn't. Not at all.

  Her dress was fully lined, so she'd worn no slip. She frowned a little as she removed her panty hose. Such a utilitarian, sexless garment, she thought. Olivia and Miranda had taken to wearing stockings with a garter belt, and Juliet blushed as the full impact of it all struck her for the first time. Liwy and Randi dressed—and undressed—for their lovers.

  Stripped to her apricot-colored chemise and matching panties, Juliet stared at the bathroom door, which remained tightly closed. She heard water running. Caine must be taking a shower, she thought. Her gaze flicked to the bed. She felt the need to do something to assuage the tension that was slowly building inside her, so she carefully folded the quilt, put it on a chair, then turned down the covers on the bed.

  Next she walked to the window to stare out at the storm. The wind seemed to have died down, but it was still raining hard. She heard a creak and whirled around. Caine was standing in the open doorway to the bathroom, a thick white towel wrapped around his waist.

  Juliet stared at him, her gaze raking him from head to foot, from his damp chestnut hair to his broad, naked chest, his muscular arms, and powerful legs sprinkled with soft, fine hair. He looked incredibly virile and sexily masculine. Caine Saxon would be an ideal substitute for the athlete/model in those male underwear ads, she thought, and her breath caught in her throat.

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, the small action unconsciously provocative. "Hi" was all she could think to say. Her voice was surprisingly husky.

  A sharp throb of desire pulsated through Caine. He watched Juliet's small pink tongue flick over her lips once more, staring as one mesmerized. His gaze lowered to the rounded fullness of her breasts, so enticingly displayed in the silky apricot chemise. Her waist was small, her stomach flat, and her hips sweetly rounded. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

  Juliet stood motionless, intensely aware of Caine's intimate scrutiny. Strangely enough, she was not at all embarrassed. She felt more conscious of her femininity than she'd ever felt before, and the admiration and desire in his eyes made her glow with pride.

  "The . . . uh, bathroom's yours," he said hoarsely. His tongue felt thick. There was a fire burning in him. Damn, he thought. He hadn't felt this hot urgency at the mere sight of a woman since he was a very young teenager sneaking a forbidden peek at the centerfolds in his father's magazines.

  He stared compulsively at her bare legs, studying their length, their shapeliness. The delicate ankles and slender calves, the rounded curves of her slim thighs. Shadowed beneath the thin silk of her panties was the dusky delta that sheltered her femininity. He wanted her so much that he ached.

  Caine wanted her, Juliet thought. She saw the passion in his piercing, catlike eyes and exulted in it. He might have dated Miss USA and a year's worth of centerfold models, maybe he'd even taken th
em to bed, but none of that mattered anymore. The past was suddenly irrelevant. They were together now and he wanted her, Juliet Elizabeth Post. And she wanted him.

  She took a step closer to him. Caine took a step back. For the first time she noticed that he was holding his clothes—jeans, sweat shirt, and navy cotton briefs—in his hand.

  "I'll get dressed while you're in the bathroom," he said, taking another step away from her.

  "Get dressed?" She stared at him. "You're going to sleep in your clothes?"

  "It's quite practical to sleep in jeans and a sweat shirt. They don't wrinkle like your dress would."

  Her eyes sparkled with laughter. "Don't you want me to see you in your underwear, Caine? That's not fair. You've seen me in mine."

  "Juliet..."

  She advanced toward him slowly, smiling, her eyes aglow. She was sexy and alluring, and Caine was jolted by another fierce spasm of arousal. When she stood directly in front of him and placed her hands on his chest, his own hands curved naturally around her waist.

  "Juliet." he repeated, gazing down at her as she threaded her fingers through the tight black curls on his chest. His grip on her waist tightened, and Juliet realized that he was holding her in place. And she wanted to be closer to him.

  "Don't send me into the bathroom, Caine," she said dreamily. "I want to stay here with you."

  One of his hands slid slowly to the curve of her hip. "You're playing with fire, little girl," he said, his voice raspy, as she leaned into him. The impact of her softness was electrifying. "And I promised that I wouldn't let you get burned."

  She snuggled against him and buried her face in the mat of wiry, soft chest hair. The fine hairs tickled her nose, and the clean male scent of him intoxicated her. "You mean you aren't going to touch me?"

  The sight of her crimson-polished nails tangled in the dark hair on his chest captured her attention. She watched, fascinated, as her fingers smoothed along his chest to the hard nipple concealed beneath the downy mat. Boldly, she circled it with her thumb.