Wife in the Mail Read online

  “What happened? With the other man, I mean.”

  She shrugged. “I wanted children, he wanted freedom. I thought we hit some sort of a compromise. He left me at the altar.” She sighed. That was all behind her now. “I thought that maybe things happened for a reason and I was meant to go through what I had in order for Ben to come into my life.” She rocked back on her heels, looking back and feeling foolish. “But I thought wrong.”

  Twice, she’d been left at the altar, figuratively and literally. And yet she was still forging ahead. He wasn’t sure whether to admire her, or call her a hopeless fool.

  Raising her chin, she almost looked defiant to Shayne. “My track record as far as making emotional choices is zero for two. So I’ve decided to stop looking for someone to share my life with and just live it instead.” It seemed like a safe, sane way to go. “So far, I think I’m doing pretty well.”

  The firelight was playing on her hair, making it look as bright as the golden nuggets that had brought prospectors running in droves at the turn of the century. He would have been less than human if he could have resisted touching it. And he suddenly felt very human. He shifted a strand through his fingers, his eyes on hers.

  “You know, sometimes they say when you stop looking so hard for something, you find it.”

  She felt as if her heart had gotten lodged in her throat. “What are you saying?”

  Very slowly, he moved his head from side to side. “Damned if I know. Just like I don’t know why I want to keep kissing you.”

  Her smile spread from her lips to her eyes. To him. “Don’t they teach elementary biology to med students anymore?”

  God, but he wanted her. Wanted her so badly, it almost hurt. “I slept through that class.”

  With less than a breath between them, she wound her arms around his neck.

  “Oh, then let me give you a refresher course. It says that men and women are inherently attracted to each other.” Her body leaned into his. “I think it has something to do with a theme and variation on that axiom about opposites attracting.” Kiss me, Shayne. Don’t make me throw myself at you.

  He laughed softly, trying very hard not to give in to the heat he felt flaring through his body. “You might be on to something there. We’re as opposite as two people can get.”

  “Absolutely.” She took a breath, and then there was nothing between them, not even air. “You want to talk about the theory of relativity now, or are you going to kiss me?”

  The resistance he thought he had against this sort of thing was melting faster than snow in July. “Physics was never my strong suit.”

  “Thank God.”

  She knew. Standing in this cabin where her great-aunt had once taught, Sydney knew. Knew as soon as he touched his lips to hers that this time it was going to be different. This time, short of an avalanche, there’d be no interruptions, no excuses to intrude and stop either one of them from the natural path they were on. Nothing could stop them, except perhaps common sense, and that was in pitifully poor supply on her end.

  She didn’t want to think about consequences, or the fact that kissing him, allowing her body to heat to the temperature of a roaring fire, was one of the most foolhardy things she’d ever done. Because right now, it wasn’t foolhardy. Right now, it was wondrous and thrilling.

  Shayne didn’t know what it was about Sydney that made him lose his ability to think, to reason, to act rationally. All he knew was that if he couldn’t have her, couldn’t feel her soft body pliant and giving beneath his, he was going to go out of his mind.

  He was going there anyway, but the route, he discovered, was a great deal sweeter than he’d ever anticipated.

  Molding her to him, his mouth deepening the kiss with each pass, Shayne felt her tremble against him. In fear? The possibility throbbed in his brain.

  Though it was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, he pulled his head away from hers and looked at her. Trying to find a clue. He couldn’t just come out and ask her.

  The ache within her was growing to proportions that were almost unmanageable. She drew a breath, trying to steady her rapidly beating pulse. It did no good.

  Was something wrong? Had he suddenly changed his mind at the last minute? She searched his face. He wanted her. She could see it. So why had he stopped? “Is justifiable homicide on the books in this state?”

  It was the oddest question he could conceive at a time like this. “I think so, why?”

  “Because…” she pressed her lips to his neck. “If you stop kissing me now—” spidery kisses circled his collarbone, tightening his gut, teasing his loins “—I’m going to be forced to kill you.”

  She was clouding his mind, heating his blood, breaking the last bands of his restraint. He struggled to hold off. “Sydney, maybe we shouldn’t.”

  It was like a cold knife twisting in her gut. She raised her head and looked at him. Had she been wrong, after all? “Do you want to stop?”

  Shayne couldn’t have lied even if salvation lay in the balance. “No. Heaven help me, but no, I don’t.”

  She could have cried. “Then don’t. Don’t stop,” she whispered, the sound skimming along his skin. Signaling his doom.

  And his victory.

  Lowering his mouth to hers, Shayne kissed her as if his very soul was behind it. Because it was. He’d only just now discovered that he still had a soul and that it was alive and, if not well, possessed by needs.

  What followed he would remember all the days of his life, no matter how many there would be. The urgency he experienced was almost overwhelming. Certainly overpowering. He didn’t even try to resist.

  They undressed one another in a synchronized symphony. Clothing instead of notes rained through the air, floating to the floor below.

  Each newly exposed region he discovered on her body made him feel like an explorer, claiming a new territory for crown and country.

  And for himself.

  Shayne didn’t delude himself into thinking he was her first and knew he wouldn’t be her last. But for now, he was here with her and she was his and that was more than enough.

  It was just right.

  Her skin felt creamy beneath his hands as he skimmed first his fingers, then his palms over her smooth, naked flesh. She arched and moved in response to his every touch, silently urging him on. She was like a woman possessed. Shayne fanned the flames, kissing her over and over again, undoing her. Undoing himself.

  He’d been married. Known, he thought, all the pleasures of the flesh that were to be had.

  He knew nothing.

  He learned everything, driven by the need to take his pleasure with her. To give her pleasure. He had no idea which gave him more satisfaction.

  Laying her back on the rug, he followed each path he’d forged with his hands with his lips, thrilling at the sound of her moan, feeling suddenly empowered, reborn in the glisten of her skin as it caught the light from the fireplace.

  The thrill he felt at touching her was more than matched by what he felt when she moved suddenly and switched positions. Now it was Sydney who was over him, Sydney who toyed, teased and suckled.

  As her hands played over him, first lightly then more and more possessively, skimming his chest, his flat stomach, his thighs, he could feel everything within him tightening like the string stretched over the bridge of a guitar. Tightening and pulsing. Waiting for the grand moment when the final notes of the melody could be struck.

  Wanting to hold them off forever.

  Wanting to hear, to feel them now. Feel them vibrating through his body.

  Knowing that if she continued what she was doing, her hands feathering along the muscles of his inner thighs, her fingertips possessing him, he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer, Shayne deftly moved so that she was beneath him again.

  He made love to her with every fiber of his being, consumed with the desire to eliminate every other man from her mind. He caressed, possessed, nipped, kissed, and marked her indelibly as his.r />
  She stored every sensation greedily within her, to be replayed and savored time and again, during future long nights when dawn seemed years away. He made her feel beautiful, wanted and happy. So exquisitely happy she thought she was going to burst.

  To repay him, to revel in the sensations they shared, she found herself loving his body in ways she’d never dreamed. Because he made her want to do things, pleasuring things, just by the way he made love with her.

  A twig snapped in the fire’s greedy jaws as the first explosion Shayne created within her racked her body, exhausting her. Making her crave more.

  And more again.

  Shayne anticipated and provided, leaving her gasping. Leaving her dazed. Again and again he raised her to the highest plateau, taking her up and over. And then safely down, only to begin again.

  She couldn’t take any more. Not alone.

  Sydney reached for him, blindly grasping his forearms and weakly dragging him to her. Anticipation danced through her as his body moved along the length of hers, into position.

  With what seemed like her last ounce of strength, she smiled at him. “I know you can revive me if I pass out, but I want to be awake for this.” She arched her hips, the invitation unmistakable.

  He accepted it, sheathing himself in her and finding so much more than he had ever dreamed possible. It wasn’t just the exquisite meeting of flesh to flesh, of needs to needs. Even the passion didn’t explain it. It was the feeling that something far more momentous was happening that made this so wondrous.

  Though he knew it was absurd to harbor the sensation, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was coming home, finally home. And for now, he didn’t want to shake it. He wanted to savor it. Savor it the way he savored the sweetness of her mouth, the sensuality of her scent as it filled every part of him.

  As it possessed him.

  Together, the rhythm of their bodies growing frenzied, they found what they were each looking for.

  For now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A chill was beginning to creep into the room, slowly, like a cat checking out the premises for future habitation. Or maybe it’d already settled in and she was only just now noticing.

  Sydney sighed, looking at the flames. “The fire’s dying out.”

  He couldn’t remember ever having been this exhausted. But feeling Sydney stir beside him, her breath lightly gliding along his skin as she spoke, was beginning to bring him around again.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do about it.”

  Sydney raised herself up on her elbow, turning toward him. Her hair rained down on his chest, lightly skimming it with every movement like the soft flutter of an angel’s wings.

  Her mouth curved wickedly. “Promises, promises. I’d say that what just happened now will warm me for a very long time to come.”

  He felt like kissing her again. Like making love with her over and over the whole night long. He was too tired to realize that this was a first for him.

  Shayne eyed the fireplace behind her. “Which fire are we talking about?”

  Her smile grew, taking him with it. “Whichever one you want. Both, if you like.”

  Duty and desire waged a quick battle within him. Duty won. But there was no winner, not in the real sense. “What I’d like…”

  She looked at him hopefully, not completely sure what it was she was hoping for. Only knowing that she needed to hear something positive from him, however small. “Yes?”

  For just a second longer, he tried to hold on to the sensation he’d felt making love with her. But it was already fading. “What I’d like and what I have to do are two very different things.”

  Sydney sat up, resigned. “Not where I thought this conversation was going,” she confessed with a sigh. She dragged a hand through her hair. “But you’re right, we have to get back to the children.” She reached for her underwear and quickly wiggled into it, then began pulling on her jeans. “I don’t know if Asia can handle them both.”

  He shouldn’t be watching her get dressed, he should be getting dressed himself. His hands remained idle, his body heating. “Not since you breathed life into them, at any rate.”

  She cocked her head, scrutinizing him. “Is that a compliment or a criticism?” There was no clue in his voice, but she was getting used to that. With Shayne, you needed all your senses alert.

  Getting up, he pulled on his jeans. He glanced over his shoulder in her direction. “Whichever one you like.”

  This time she heard the amusement in his voice. “Sorry, that quote’s already been taken. Have to come up with one of your own, I’m afraid.”

  “And I’m afraid…” He turned just in time to see her slipping her sweater on over her head, her torso stretched. She’d neglected to put on her bra. His mouth turned to cotton.

  Sydney yanked the sweater down so she could see again. “Yes?”

  He let out the breath he was holding. His chest hurt, and the cause, he knew, was not rooted in anything remotely medical. “And I’m afraid that I can’t seem to put two thoughts together anymore.”

  She saw how he looked at her and she smiled, pleased. Flattered. And wishing there was enough time to make love all over again. She stepped closer to him. “You’re too young to be senile.”

  Urges, freshly satisfied, freshly tantalized, began to rise again for Shayne. Damn, but he could feel the heat of her body, even with space between them. “Is that your professional medical opinion?”

  She laughed, splaying her hands over his chest. Leaning into him.

  “Call it a gut feeling.” Shifting, she moved against his side and he winced in reaction. The response occurred in less than a split second. Concern nudged her. “What’s the matter?”

  The pain came suddenly, sharply. Taken by surprise, Shayne concentrated on regulating his breathing. The pain began to fade. “Nothing.”

  It didn’t look like “nothing” to her. He looked as if someone had just jabbed him with a cattle prod. “You winced.”

  He shrugged it off, wishing she wouldn’t insist on making something out of everything. The pain was already a memory.

  “A stitch,” he insisted. “Nothing more.”

  And he wouldn’t tell her even if it was, Sydney realized. No sense in her butting her head against this iron wall.

  “You’re the doctor, you should know.” She refused to let anything mar what they’d just shared. The euphoria was still wrapped around her like a coat of airtight iron armor. Sydney raised her eyes to his. “I had a very nice time installing the telephone.”

  Even wanting, for simplicity’s sake, to put what they’d just done behind him, Shayne couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that what you call it now?”

  She nodded, her eyes still on his. “From now on.”

  From now on. That had such a permanent ring to it.

  But he knew there was no such thing as permanent. Barbara had shown him that, and so had Ben. And each had had a great deal more invested in his life than Sydney did. In comparison, he and Sydney were almost strangers.

  Strangers who had made exquisite love together.

  But still strangers.

  Sydney frowned, looking up at him. Her euphoria began to slip away. “I know that face. It’s your pessimistic face.”

  He frowned in response, then realized it was only reinforcing what she said. “I don’t have a pessimistic face.” Frustrated, he turned and began looking for his shirt. It had to be here somewhere.

  Sydney followed him. “Yes, you do. I would have said it was your regular face, except that I’ve seen you look differently, so I know you don’t have to look like that if you don’t want to.”

  It took him a minute to untangle the words. He didn’t know which was worse; that she rattled on, or that he could actually follow her with a little effort. “I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.”

  “You’re a pessimist,” she insisted, her tone mild. “I’m an optimist. To me, the glass is half full and there’s a wai
tress coming toward me with a pitcher, ready to fill it. Your glass is half empty and not only don’t you see the waitress but you also think she’s quit and taken the pitcher with her.”

  She was right, he thought. But that still just made him a realist. He shrugged into his shirt. “Are you through?”

  Sydney began to close his buttons for him. “For now.”

  He moved her hands aside and finished the job. If he let her do it, he wouldn’t be able to force himself to leave.

  “One clings to small favors.” He picked his parka up off the floor. “Let’s go before it gets too dark.”

  Sydney slipped on her parka. “I’ve got a feeling it already has.”

  Shayne wasn’t about to ask her what she was talking about. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

  With a sigh, Shayne closed the medical journal he’d been trying to read and massaged the bridge of his nose. He was having trouble concentrating.

  It was all her fault.

  In more ways than just one. The noise echoing outside his window—a noise Sydney had incited and for which she was directly responsible—made reading hard enough on its own. He could ignore that.

  What he couldn’t ignore was the way she lingered in his thoughts, how she’d burrowed into his life and set up residence like some Arctic hibernator. Burrowing in and giving him no peace.

  She intruded on every facet of his life, physically and otherwise. Even here, in his den. The things the moving men had brought were being stored in this room until she made her final move into the cabin.

  He could swear her perfume was on every one of the damn items. Even on the piano in the living room. Never mind that she’d said she didn’t use any, it was here, haunting him. Reminding him of the one afternoon where discretion and his good judgment had left him. An afternoon more than a week in the past now.

  Reminding him that, common sense not withstanding, he wanted her again.

  He wished she’d moved out already. But that was his fault. She would have been living in Miss Faye’s cabin by now if he hadn’t bribed her into waiting with those flying lessons. But something inside him just couldn’t ignore her.