Shadow Chasing, page 6
Philip caught up with her and cupped her elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where?” she shouted, but he didn’t answer as they raced down a side street. After two long blocks, Carla stopped counting. Placing one foot in front of the other was all that she could manage in the torrent that was beating against her.
Philip led her into a building and up two flights of stairs.
Leaning against the hallway wall, Carla gasped for breath. “Where are we?”
“My parents’ condo.”
Vaguely, she recalled Philip mentioning that the condo was the reason he was in Mazatlán. He’d said something about repairs, but Carla didn’t care where they were, as long as it was dry.
“Let’s get these wet things off,” Philip suggested, holding the door open for her and leading the way into the kitchen.
The condominium looked surprisingly modern, and Carla hurried inside, not wishing to leave a trail of mud across the cream-colored carpet. The washer and dryer were behind a louvered door. Philip pulled his shirt from his waist and unbuttoned it. “We’d better let these dry.”
Wide-eyed, her mouth open, Carla watched him toss his drenched shirt inside. He paused and glanced expectantly at her.
“You don’t honestly expect me to parade around here in my underwear, do you?”
“Well, to be honest,” he said with a wry grin, “I didn’t expect it, but I was hoping. Hold on and I’ll get you my mom’s robe.”
By the time he returned, Carla had removed her sandals and found a kitchen towel to dry her feet. When she heard Philip approach, she straightened and continued to press her hat—still secure despite everything—down over her ears.
“Here.” He draped the cotton robe over a chair. “I’ll start a fire. Let me know when you’re finished.”
Shivering, Carla slipped the dress over her hips and tossed it inside the dryer. Another towel served as a turban for her hair and hid the effects of the rain.
She tied the sash of the robe and took a deep breath. Self-consciously, she stood just outside the living room. A small fire was crackling in the fireplace, and Philip was kneeling in front of it, adding one stick of wood at a time.
He seemed to sense that she was watching him. “How do you feel?” He stood and crossed the room, joining her. Placing a hand on each shoulder, he smiled into her eyes. “Mother’s robe never looked so good.”
“I feel like a drowned rat.” The turban slipped over one eye, and Carla righted it.
His hands found the side of her neck, and his touch sent a warm sensation through her. “Believe me when I say you don’t look like one.”
They continued to study each other, and Carla’s heart began to pound like a locomotive racing against time. In some ways she and Philip were doing that. There were only a few days left of their vacation, and then it would be over. It had to be.
“Come in and sit down,” Philip said at last, and his thumb traced her lips in a feather-light caress. “The fire should take the chill from your bones.”
“I’m…not really cold.” Not when you’re touching me, she added silently.
“Me, neither.”
Carla was convinced his thoughts were an echo of her own.
“Hungry?”
“Not really.” Not anymore.
“Good.”
Together they sat on the plush love seat that was angled to face the fireplace. Philip’s arm reached for her, bringing her within the haven of his embrace.
Resting her head against the curve of his shoulder, Carla let her fingers toy with the dark hairs on his bare chest. Her body was in contact with his chest, hips, and thighs, and whenever they touched, she could feel a heat building. She struggled to control her breathing so Philip wouldn’t guess the effect he had on her.
“I poured these while you were changing,” Philip murmured, his voice low and slightly husky. He leaned forward and reached for the two glasses of wine sitting on the polished oak coffee table.
Straightening, Carla accepted the long-stemmed crystal glass with a smile of appreciation and tasted the wine. It was an excellent sweet variety with a fragrant bouquet.
Removing the glass from her unresisting fingers, Philip set it aside. As he leaned back, his jaw brushed her chin, and his warm breath caressed her face. The contact stopped them both. He hadn’t meant it to be sensual, Carla was sure of that, but her heart thumped wildly. Closing her eyes, she inhaled a quivering breath.
“Philip?” she whispered.
His mouth explored the side of her neck, sending rapturous shivers up and down her spine. “Yes?”
“Did you arrange for the rainstorm?” Carla couldn’t believe how low and sultry her voice sounded.
“No, but I’m glad it happened.”
Carla was, too, but she wouldn’t admit it. She didn’t need to.
Gently, Philip pressed her backward so that her head rested against the arm of the sofa; then his mouth claimed hers. His kiss was slow, leisurely, and far more intoxicating than potent wine.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Philip diverted his attention to her neck, nuzzling the scented hollow of her throat. His hands wandered over her hips, artfully arousing her so that she shifted, seeking more. She wanted to give more of herself and take more at the same time. Her restless hands explored his back, reveling in the tightness of his corded muscles. This man was deceptively strong. Her fingers found a scar, and she longed to kiss it.
Gradually, the heat that had begun to flow through her at the tenderness of his touch spread to every part of her, leaving her feverishly warm. But when Philip’s hands slid across her abdomen, she tensed slightly. He murmured her name, and his mouth lingered on her lips, moving from one side of her mouth to the other in a deep exploration that left her weak and clinging. Philip turned her so that she was sitting half upright. As he did so, the towel that was covering her hair twisted and fell forward across her face. Gently, Philip lifted the offending material off her face, but her desperate hold on it prevented him from tossing it aside.
“Can we get rid of this thing?” he asked gently.
“No.” She struggled to sit completely up. Both hands secured the terry-cloth towel.
“Your hair can’t be that bad,” he coaxed.
“It’s worse. Turn around,” she demanded, as she leaned forward and rewound the turban. “I…I don’t want you to see it.”
Expelling his breath, Philip leaned against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. “Would you feel better if you showered and dried those precious locks?”
She nodded eagerly.
“Come on, I’m sure Mom’s got something in the bathroom that should help.”
Carla followed him down a long, narrow hallway that led to a bathroom. Investigating the vanity drawers, he managed to come up with a blow-dryer and a curling iron.
“I think my sister gave this to her for Christmas last year.”
Carla’s heart sank. “But I can’t use this. The package isn’t even open.”
With a crooked grin, Philip tore off the cellophane. “If it bothers you, I’ll tell her I used it.”
Carla giggled delightedly. “I’d like to hear her answer to that.”
Removing several fluffy towels from the hall closet, Philip handed them to her. “While you’re making yourself beautiful, I’m going to make us something to eat.”
Hugging the fresh towels, Carla gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Philip. I honestly mean that.”
He shrugged and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure you don’t need someone to wash your back?” he asked in a low, seductive voice.
“I’m sure.” But the look he gave her as he turned toward the kitchen was enough to inflame her senses. Never had she felt this strongly about anyone after such a short time. Maybe that was normal. They had only a week together, and already three of those precious days had been spent. All too soon the time would come when she’d say good-bye to him at the airport. And it would be good-bye.
The water felt fantastic as it sprayed against her soft skin. When she’d finished showering, she put the robe on and opened the bathroom door to allow the steam to escape.
“Your dress is dry, if you want me to bring it to you,” Philip called to her from the kitchen.
“Give me a minute,” she shouted. Carla’s russet-red curls were blown dry and tamed with the curling iron in record time. Her face was void of makeup, and she knew she looked much paler than usual, but one kiss from Philip would correct that.
Tying the sash of the robe as she walked across the living room carpet, Carla sniffed the delicate aroma drifting from the kitchen.
“Mushrooms,” she announced, and picked one out of the sizzling butter with her long fingernails and popped it into her mouth.
“Canned, I’m afraid.”
“No problem, I like mushrooms any way they come.” She lifted out another and fed it to Philip. His shirt was dry and tucked neatly into his waistband. Her dress, she’d noticed, was hanging off a knob from the kitchen cabinet.
Peeking inside the oven, she turned around delightedly. “I don’t suppose those are T-bone steaks under the grill?”
“Yup, but they’ll take time. I had to get them out of the freezer.” Philip set the cooking fork beside the skillet and reached for her. His hands almost spanned her waist. “But then we have lots of time.”
But not nearly enough, her heart answered.
* * *
—
Hours later, after they’d consumed an entire bottle of wine and eaten their fill, they washed and dried the dishes. Soft music played romantically in the background.
“Philip?” Carla tilted her head as she released the plug from the sink to drain the soapy water.
He looked at her expectantly. “Hmm?”
“There’s a scar on your back. I don’t think I’d noticed it before. What happened?” she asked curiously.
“It’s nothing.” He stooped down to place the skillet in the bottom cupboard.
“It didn’t feel like it. It’s long and narrow, like…like…” She stopped cold. A painful sensation in the pit of her stomach viciously attacked her, and she leaned weakly against the counter. “Like a knife. You were stabbed, weren’t you?”
Lifting up the frames of his glasses, Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something she couldn’t quite hear under his breath.
“You didn’t want me to know. Well, I do now,” she said, and gestured defiantly with her hand. “What happened? Did you decide to step in and break up a gang war all by yourself? You were willing to try your hand at that this morning.” Her voice shook.
“No, it wasn’t anything like that. I was—”
“I don’t want to hear. Don’t tell me.” She searched frantically for her hat, moving quickly across one room and into the other.
“First you demand to know, then you claim you don’t. I hope you realize how unreasonable you sound,” he said with a low growl.
“I…don’t care what I sound like.” Her hat was beside her purse in the other room, and she practically raced to it. “One look at you and I should have known you were bad news. But oh no, I had to follow this crazy scheme of Nancy’s and make a complete idiot of myself It’s not going to work, Philip. Not for another day. Not for a week. Not at all. I’m going back to the hotel.”
“Carla, will you listen to me?” Philip stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and his face hardened with a grimness she hadn’t expected to see in him. “It’s working, believe me, it’s working.”
“Maybe everything is fine for you. But I don’t want to get involved. Not with you.”
“You’re already involved.”
Defiantly, she crossed her arms in front of her. “Not anymore.” Mentally and emotionally, she would have to block him out of her life before the pain became too great.
“That’s twice in one day.”
“Don’t you see?” she cried, as if shouting helped prove her point. “All right, all right, I concede the point. I could like you very much. It probably wouldn’t take a lot to fall in love with you, but I just can’t. Look at me, Philip.” Tossing her head back, she held out her hands, palms down, for his inspection. “I’m shaking because already I care enough for you to worry about a stabbing that happened before we even met.”
“Being knifed is the only thing that’s ever happened to me. I was a rookie, and stupid….”
“This is supposed to reassure me?” she retorted, jamming her hat on top of her head.
He followed her to the front door and pressed against the wood to prevent her from opening it. “Carla, for heaven’s sake, will you listen to reason?”
With hands clenched at her sides, she emitted a frustrated sigh. She didn’t expect him to understand. “It was hopeless from the beginning.”
“I’m not letting you leave until you listen to me.”
Carla exhaled, her lungs aching from the effort to control her emotion. “Philip, I like you so much.” Of its own volition, her hand found and explored the side of his jaw. She could feel his muscles tense as her fingertips investigated the rough feel of his day-old beard. “I won’t forget you,” she whispered shakily.
His hand captured hers and moved it to his mouth so that he could kiss the tender skin of her palm. As if he’d burned her, Carla jerked her fingers free.
“Come on, I’ll take you back to the hotel.” His quiet determination convinced her to let him escort her back. She knew him well enough to realize arguing would do little good.
Philip didn’t say a word on the entire trip back. They passed a horse-drawn carriage, and Carla wanted to weep at the sight of the two young lovers who sat in the back with their arms entwined. What a perfect end to a lovely day such a ride would have been. Philip gave her a look that said he was reading her thoughts. They could have been that couple.
Bowing her head, Carla studied her clenched hands, all too aware that Philip thought she was overreacting. But she couldn’t ask him to be something he wasn’t, and she couldn’t change, either.
His hand cupped her elbow as she climbed the short series of stairs that led to the hotel lobby. Halfway through the lobby, Carla paused and murmured, “I’ll say good-bye here.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll take you to your room.”
When they reached her door, Carla’s fingers nervously fumbled with her purse’s latch. Her hand closed around the key card, and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath.
“I know you’re angry,” she said without looking up. Her gaze was centered on the room key card. “And to be honest, I don’t blame you. Thank you for today and yesterday. I’ll never think of Mexico without remembering you.” The brittle smile she gave him as she glanced up took more of an effort than he would ever know.
Philip’s mouth drew faintly upward, and Carla guessed that he wasn’t in any more of a mood to smile than she was.
Her hand rested on the door handle.
“What? No farewell kiss. Surely I deserve that much.”
Carla meant only to brush her lips over his. Not to tease, but to disguise the very real physical attraction she felt for him. But as she raised her mouth, his hand cupped the back of her head and she was crushed in his embrace. Where Philip had always been gentle, now he was urgent, greedily devouring her with a hunger that left her so weak she clung to him. She wanted to twist away but realized that if she struggled, Philip would release her. Instead, her arms crept around his neck. Philip groaned aloud and gathered her as close as physical boundaries would allow, his arms crushing her.
A trembling weakness attacked her, and Philip altered his method of assault. He kissed her leisurely, with a thoroughness that made her ache for more. He didn’t rush, but seemed to savor each second, content to have her break the contact.
She did, but only when she thought her lungs would burst.
“Good night, Carla,” he whispered against her ear, and opened the door for her.
Carla would have stumbled inside if Philip hadn’t caught her. With as much dignity as possible, she broke free, entered the room unaided, and closed the door without looking back.
The cool, dark interior contained no welcome. The taste of Philip’s kiss was on her mouth, and the male scent of him lingered, disturbing her further.
Pacing the floor did little to relieve the ache. Desperately, she tried watching television and was irrationally angry that every station had programs in Spanish.
* * *
—
After her long afternoon nap she wasn’t tired. Nor was she interested in visiting the party scene that was taking place in the lounge and bars.
Her frustration mounted with every second. Standing on the balcony that overlooked the pool area, she noted again that there wasn’t anyone around. A gentle breeze stirred the evening air and contained a freshness that often follows a storm. The first night she’d arrived and met Philip, they had gone for a swim. And the pool had been fantastic.
Laps would help, and with the heavy tourist crowds that filled the pool during the day, it would be impossible to do them in the morning. Besides, if she tired herself out, she might be able to sleep.
Determined now, she located a fresh suit in the bottom of her suitcase and hurriedly undressed. Tomorrow would be filled with avoiding Philip, but she didn’t want to think about that now.
The water was refreshingly cool as she dived in and broke the surface twenty feet later. Her arms carried her to the far side, and the first lap was accomplished with a drive born of remorse. There wasn’t anyone to blame for this but herself. She’d known almost from the beginning what Philip was. He hadn’t tried to disguise it.
Her shoulders heaving as she struggled for breath ten long laps later, Carla stood in the shallow end and brushed the hair from her face.
