she cried, handing Rush one of the tall narrow glasses he’d set out. She didn’t want any of this precious liquid to be wasted. God only knew how much Rush had paid for the bottle.
“A toast,” Rush said, handing her a glass and taking his own. Tiny golden bubbles popped to the surface as if to add their own congratulations. “To Lindy Kyle, computer expert,” Rush murmured, completely serious.
“I’m not really an expert.”
“Are you always this argumentative, woman?”
“All right, all right,” she laughed and licked the moisture from her fingertips. “IBM owes everything to me. Mr. Wang himself calls me his friend.” Her eyes were laughing, her joy and enthusiasm exuding with every breath, because it was impossible to contain them.
“Mr. Wang?” Rush asked her. “What about Mr. Callaghan? Is he your friend?”
“Oh most assuredly. The very best kind there is.”
“Good.”
Lindy thought his voice sounded slightly husky, pleased, but before she had time to analyze it or study him further, Rush poised his glass next to hers. Gently they tapped the delicate rims together and Lindy tasted a sample. The smooth liquid was wonderfully light and mellow and so delicious that she closed her eyes to properly savor it.
“This is marvelous stuff,” she said, taking another sip.
“I thought you’d like it.”
“I bought us steaks,” she said, suddenly remembering the sack. “And enough vegetables to open our own fifty-item salad bar.”
Rush chuckled. “You get the salad together and I’ll manage the steaks.”
“That sounds like a workable plan.”
“Good grief,” he chided, unwrapping the thick T-bones from the white butcher paper. “You’re already using office lingo.”
Lindy resisted the urge to swat his backside as he returned to the lanai, and turned her attention to the variety of fresh vegetables for the salad.
She finished before Rush did, and taking her champagne glass with her, joined him outside. It had rained for part of the week, but the sun was out this afternoon and the breeze was fresh and clean.
“The coals aren’t quite hot enough yet,” he told her, leaning against the wrought-iron railing, looking at ease with himself and his world.
Perhaps it was the champagne or the fact she’d stood too long in the sun. Lindy wasn’t sure which to blame. But standing beside Rush she suddenly felt the overwhelming need to have him kiss her, the overpowering desire to glide her moist lips back and forth over his and taste the champagne on his tongue.
“Lindy?” He was frowning at her, and for a moment she was sure he’d read her thoughts. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head for emphasis, pushing down the impulse. It was insane, stupid, wrong. And yet something kept driving her. Something primitive and completely unmanageable. Before she could change her mind, she took both their wineglasses and set them aside, her hands shaking.
Rush watched her like a man in a trance.
She leaned forward and planted her hands on his shoulders, her intense gaze holding his.
At her touch, she felt a quiver work its way through his lean, hard body. He stiffened, his shoulders at attention as though a visiting admiral were passing by for inspection. But still he didn’t try to stop her, didn’t gently push her away as she thought he might. His hands bunched into tight fists at his sides.
Filled with purpose, and more determined than she had been about anything in a long time, Lindy stood on tiptoe and briefly touched her lips to his.
It was better than she’d thought, better than she’d dreamed. She cocked her head so their noses wouldn’t present a barrier and kissed him again. Lightly. Tentatively. Shyly.
Rush stood stiff and motionless, but a low moan slipped from deep within his throat. His dark eyebrows cramped his piercing blue eyes, and he glared at her. If he hoped to intimidate her with a look, he failed. Lindy felt incredibly brave, ready to take on a fully armed armada if need be. Surely managing one weary sailor wouldn’t be so difficult.
Rush closed his eyes then opened them, searching her face, his look tormented. He seemed to be telling Lindy to stop. Begging her to move away from him because he hadn’t the will to move himself. But Lindy had no intention of following his silent demand. None. Instead she smiled boldly up at him, her heart in her eyes.
Rush claimed her lips then, and groaned anew as if holding her were the last thing in the world he wanted to do. His mouth clung to hers, warm and demanding as his tongue plundered the dark, sweet secret of her mouth, taking all that she offered.
His hands pulled her tight against him and he continued to kiss her again and again until she was flushed and trembling and her blood felt as if it could boil.
“Oh God, Lindy. No. No. This isn’t right.” His voice was tortured and barely audible. But still he didn’t release her.
Rush’s face was hard. Harder than at any time Lindy could remember. His eyebrows were pulled down over his eyes, which were busily searching her face, seeking answers she couldn’t give him.
Gently, his hands at her waist, he broke her hold on him and turned away, but not too far, because she was able to view his profile in the afternoon sunlight. He sucked in a giant breath and savagely jerked his fingers through his hair, his face dark and ravaged with what looked like guilt and regret.
“Rush,” she whispered. “Listen….”
“No, you listen….”
The same mindless force that had driven her to kiss him led her now, and she moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and fiercely hugging his back. She could feel the coiled resistance in him, but refused to release him.
“Lindy, damn it, you’re not making this easy.” His hands moved to break her hold and release himself from the trap of her arms.
At least Lindy thought that was his intent. But instead his fingers closed over her knuckles, squeezing her hands together with such force she nearly gasped with pain. But when his hand touched hers something seemed to snap inside him and he relaxed, causing her to melt all the more intimately against him.
She was shocked by how good Rush’s body felt. He was tall and lean and hard and he stirred some inherent need in her.
An eternity passed before either moved. They hardly seemed to breathe. Lindy would have held onto Rush until the Second Coming if he hadn’t broken free of her clasp and moved away from her. His breath was choppy then, as though it had cost him a great deal to leave her arms. His intense blue eyes stubbornly avoided hers.
“I think it would be best if we forget that ever happened,” he said gruffly, and seemed to be engrossed in placing the steaks on the barbecue.
“I’m not going to forget it.” Lindy didn’t know why she felt she had to argue with him, but she did. “I thought you were the one who was so keen on us being honest with each other.”
“This is different.” He shook enough salt over the meat to preserve it into the next generation. Pepper and garlic powder followed, so thick they practically obliterated the juicy T-bones.
“You said it was important there be no pretense between us,” she pressed. “And you’re right.”
“Damn it, Lindy. Just what the hell do you want from me?” He remained hunched over the barbecue, refusing to meet her eyes. “Do you want me to tell you I find you attractive? Fine. You turn me on. I hope to hell you’re satisfied now.”
She