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Juliet pushed back the sheet and rose from her bed. She pulled on her light robe over her pajamas and decided not to even worry about her feet. She could use the little iron gate in the stone fence between the two houses. That way, there were only smooth paving stones and soft grass between his house and hers.
She went out the back door and down the few steps to the stone walk that led to the gate. The stones, as she padded from one to the next, were still warm from a summer day’s worth of sun.
Overhead there was no moon, but the stars were very bright. The gold grasses of the open pasture on her right, which was separated from her house by a wooden fence, seemed to reflect the starlight, so Juliet had no trouble seeing the way. She flew past the hay barn and small stables, which loomed just on the other side of the fence. Cody began another song as she pulled open the gate to the main grounds and slipped through.
Beyond the gate was another world. Six acres of sloping, manicured grass were bisected by a gravel drive that ended in a roomy garage. On the near side of the drive lay the swimming pool, lit now and casting its eerie light up toward the night sky. On the far side of the drive, up a walk lined with rose bushes, was the house, a two-story white clapboard structure with green roof and trim.
Originally, as Cody’s mother had once explained to Juliet, the guesthouse had been the main house. The ranch had been smaller then, more of a homestead than anything else. Cody’s great-grandmother had run the place, while his great-grandfather owned and operated the Rush Creek Digs mine. They’d closed the mine in Cody’s grandfather’s time; Cody’s grandfather had bought more land, then built his family a bigger, more comfortable place to live. Cody’s father, retired and living in Arizona for the past few years, had opened the hardware store in town and added the Olympic-size pool at the house. When he retired, Cody’s dad had signed both the ranch and hardware store over to his only son. Now Cody took care of it all, as well as the bar and grill that was his contribution to the family holdings.
The huge yard of the main house was surrounded on three sides by a stone wall. The north side, except for the garage, was divided from the pasture by a wooden fence. It was a stunning effect, Juliet had always thought: the pampered, lush grounds, cut off from the road and the outbuildings by the high wall—but opened right up to the wild, wide field on the north side. There, the tall grasses rolled away for a half mile or so until they hit the woodlands of the surrounding hills.
Once inside the gate and sheltered by the spreading shadow of a big fruitless mulberry tree there, Juliet hesitated, partly in hushed appreciation of the starlit yard, and partly to gauge the source of the music that curled through the still night.
The melody came, as she had suspected, from the wide front porch that faced her across the drive. She could see Cody there, now that she looked for him. Since the porch light was off, he sat in shadow, lounging against one of the two pillars that flanked the front steps. He faced the main gate and had his back to the garage. He was shirtless—she could see the sheen of bare skin—and barefoot, too, just as she was. His naked feet were on the second step. Not far away from him, near the porch railing, she could make out the sprawled black shape of the dog, Kemo. The dog’s head was raised and pointed in her direction.
Cody, staring off toward the front gate, seemed lost in his music. If he had looked, he could have seen her, even in the shadow of the mulberry, for her robe was the palest shade of blue and drew what little light there was within the darkness. But he didn’t look.
Kemo, still peering in Juliet’s direction, whined. Cody stopped playing to murmur a soft order to the animal. The dog laid his sleek black head on his paws once more.
Juliet stood for a while, listening to the song, suspended in the moment and glad to be there. All of her senses seemed heightened. There was the music, the faint gleam of Cody’s skin across the yard, the cool caress of moist grass at her feet. The grass had a sweet, full earthy smell that mingled deliciously with the dusty scent of the drier, wilder grass on the other side of the fence.
Cody paused for a breath. From somewhere on the green lawn, a frog croaked; it was a rough, humorous sound, after the beguiling beauty of the song. Juliet smiled. Cody played on.
It occurred to her that, were she to circle the pool and cross the drive up by the garage, she could approach from the side steps and keep from disturbing Cody for a few minutes more. It seemed appropriate, somehow, for her to come up on him quietly. It was in keeping with the enchanted mood of moonless darkness and haunting song.
The thick grass tickled her feet as she crept, still smiling to herself, beneath the trees that grew close to the stone wall. By the time she reached the wooden fence, it had become a sort of game to her. She shot across the open space, picked her way over the pebbles of the drive in front of the garage and then flew across the unprotected space on the other side. Then she had one of the pair of huge old chestnut trees that grew in front of the house for cover as she approached the side of the porch.
When she put her dew-damp foot on the bottom step, Cody began yet another song, one of his own that Juliet had heard once or twice over the years. It was a love song, about a poor boy who loved a rich girl whose family kept them apart. Now, of course, he only played the melody. But Juliet recalled the general flow of the lyrics, and felt sad for the penniless lover, whose dream girl could never be his.
Juliet mounted the steps and then, still unchallenged, began to approach the man who sat on the front steps with his back to her, playing one of those songs that broke women’s hearts.
The wooden boards of the porch were with her; they gave out nary a squeak. The dog, too, seemed to be on her side. Though he raised his head and watched her, he made no sound.
Juliet tiptoed to the Mission-style easy chair, one of a pair that flanked the double front door. And then, lost in the music, she hovered there, staring at the marvelously sculpted musculature of Cody’s bare back, until the sad song came to an end.
There was a silence, one that slowly filled up with the sounds of the night. An owl hooted somewhere behind the house. The crickets spun out whirring songs of their own. A mourning dove cried. Out in the field, a quail loosed its piping call, just as Kemo’s snaky black tail began beating the porch boards, and the dog opened his mouth to pant in a welcoming way.
Cody said, “Julie.”
He said it softly, in a different way than anyone had ever said her name before. He turned his head, slowly, and smiled at her.
Juliet smiled back, with no shyness or hesitation. It seemed that her triumph at the meeting earlier had boosted her confidence, while the magic safety of the darkness made her bold.
“You saw me,” she accused in a teasing manner, as Kemo rose and went to her to be scratched behind the ear.
Cody nodded. “When you came through the gate.”
“The music was so beautiful. I didn’t want to break the mood. So I sneaked up on you, hoping that you wouldn’t stop.” The dog, satisfactorily scratched, went to the end of the porch nearest the front gate. There, he walked in a circle, at last lying down again, all curled into himself.
Juliet came to sit next to Cody, first adjusting her robe where it met on her lap, then wrapping her hands around her knees. “I’ve enjoyed it each time you played, ever since I moved in.”
“You never came over before. How come?”
She glanced off toward the rippling lights of the pool. “I don’t know. I guess I was just never the kind of woman to run across a lawn barefoot in the middle of the night.”
“But now you are?”
Juliet chuckled, considering the question, considering her own lightness of spirit, her boldness, her sense of glowing self-confidence. Tonight, she felt disconnected from her usual self. It was as if her usual self were some other woman, a woman for whom she felt a little sorry. A woman frightened of life, of its sights, scents and sounds, of its sweet and sensual beauty that tonight seemed created for her alone.
“Well?”
“What?” She looked at him.
“I asked if now you were the kind of woman who—”
“I remember. And I don’t know. Tonight is different. I feel different. But we’ll see.”
He smiled again, that slow warm smile that lifted the right side of his mouth a fraction more than the left. Juliet thought, as he did that, that it was fully understandable why the women went wild for him.
Lord, he was one beautiful hunk of man. Much too much man for someone like Juliet—she knew that. But absolutely splendid nonetheless.
“Believe it or not,” she went on, in an effort to distract herself from the surplus of masculine splendor before her—from the hard, broad chest, the corded neck, the gleaming eyes and the right-sided smile, “I did come over here with a specific purpose in mind.”
“And that was?”
“To ask you a favor.”
He was watching her mouth. “A favor?” He repeated the word right after her, as if he’d caught it from her lips and then playfully tossed it back her way.
“Yes,” she confirmed, surprised at the steadiness of her own voice. Inside, she was drowning in the most wonderful yearning sort of feeling, an utterly delicious feeling, one she was sure she should restrain, but one to which she wanted to give free rein.
“Well?”
She recollected her supposed purposed. “It’s about the revue.”
“The Midsummer Madness Revue?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Well, I was thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“I was hoping, actually….”
“You were thinking and hoping what?”
She went ahead and said it right out at last. “I would really appreciate it if you would agree to sing a song or two in the revue this year.”
He said nothing for a moment. Then he murmured her name in a regretful tone, and she knew that next he’d be telling her how busy he was.
In a gesture that seemed perfectly natural, she put a finger on his lips. “Shh. Don’t answer now. Just think about it. Okay?”
“I don’t think so,” he told her. His lips were firm, his breath warm on her skin. It was a lovely sensation, touching his mouth, feeling the movement beneath her fingers each time he spoke.
Juliet shook herself, remembering that, no matter how good his lips felt, they were getting dangerously close to saying “no” to her request. She shushed him again. “Didn’t I ask you not to answer now?”
He smiled, which she felt as a brushing softness on the pads of her fingers. “All right. I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” She gave a satisfied little nod, and then realized she couldn’t go on touching his lips forever, no matter how good it felt. She pulled her hand away and faced the pool again. He didn’t move. She could feel his eyes on her.
A little silence happened, one that had a peculiar edge to it. A precipitous edge, Juliet thought.
She turned to him. “I, um, suppose I should go back to my house now.”
“Why?” He seemed to be looking at her mouth. And then her neck, and the little V that was formed where her pajamas buttoned up and the facings of her robe met.
“Well, I…I did what I came out here to do. I asked you to be in the revue.”
“That’s all you came out here for? To ask me to be in the revue?”
She nodded.
He didn’t seem to believe that. “You sure?”
When she’d touched his mouth to hush him, she’d scooted right up next to him. And then, even when she’d looked off at the pool, she hadn’t actually moved away. So now she was seeing him at very close range.
It was an enthralling experience. So near, his male beauty was absolutely mesmerizing. She stared at him, forgetting to even try to talk, marveling at the perfection of his firm mouth, his symmetrical nose, his shiny brown hair.
Goodness—the realization caused her to hitch in a quick breath—why, she wanted to kiss him! Her lips were practically twitching with the longing to be pressed to his.
He looked back at her, and it was as if he knew her forbidden wish, because the impossible happened. He shifted forward just a fraction and her wish came true.
They were kissing.
It couldn’t be happening—but it was.
And it felt wonderful. He made a lovely, rough sound in his throat, and his hard, naked arms went around her. She heard the harmonica clatter on the porch boards as he pulled her up against him.
Ah, how utterly delightful. Juliet didn’t want to pull away. So she didn’t.
His hands rubbed her back in slow, sweet circles, and his lips played with hers for a while, teasing and nibbling, kind of getting to know her mouth.
And then his tongue got involved, slipping out to press at the little seam between her lips. Juliet gasped at first, since she’d never in her life been familiar with another person’s tongue. But then she felt herself go easy and soft in his arms, because being familiar with Cody’s tongue felt just fine. Just terrific, after all.
Since his tongue seemed to hint at the possibility that she might allow her lips to part, she did it, with a little sigh.
He whispered “Julie,” and then his tongue slipped in. She smiled in welcome, liking it immensely, and even shyly touching the gentle intruder with her own tongue. The deepened kiss continued.
And then he pulled away. She gave a cry. But the loss of such joy was only temporary. He only wanted, she learned soon enough, to do a little rearranging of their bodies before he kissed her some more.
He turned her and guided her down, across his lap, cradling her on one arm, so he could sip from her mouth some more.
Juliet raised her lips eagerly to him, and stroked his shoulders, deeply pleasured by the taut feel of his skin, and the hard bulge of the muscles beneath.
“Oh, Cody.” She sighed against his mouth. “Oh, Cody, how wonderful…. No one ever told me…”
He chuckled at that, a husky chuckle that seemed to ignite all her senses the more. She went on stroking his sleek shoulders, and then sliding her fingers up to toy in the silky hair at his nape.
Meanwhile, he was not idle. Besides the long, drugging kiss that never seemed to end, his free hand caressed her, in long strokes at first. From the slim curve of her hip, to the cove of her waist, it moved up to slide along her rib cage, then back down again.
Somehow, the belt of her robe was gone, the robe fully parted. Cody’s exploring hand drifted over her hip, bringing the hem of her pajama top along, until he was rubbing the bare skin of her waist beneath the top.
Oh, it was heaven. How on earth could she have lived for thirty whole years and known next to nothing of this heady bliss? It was better than anything. Better than ice cream on a sweltering day, better than hot cocoa of a cold winter’s night. Better than— Oh, Lord, yes, it was true—better than driving her red car, or running Midsummer Madness for the first time in her life!
This was Midsummer Madness. Incredible. Divine.
Cody’s warm, big hand slid up her waist—and, light as a breath, skimmed the nipple of her left breast.
“Oh, my goodness!” Juliet gasped.
His hand repeated the action. Juliet gasped again. And then—
He pulled away.
Juliet, who realized her eyes were dreamily closed, opened them. She looked into Cody’s eyes, which were heavy-lidded and full of sensual promise. “I said, ‘oh, my goodness,’” she pointed out. “I didn’t say stop.”
Juliet found she didn’t regret her bold words when, for a moment, it looked as if he might resume where he’d left off—lower his mouth to where she could get at it, and start doing those lovely things with his hand again.
But the moment stretched out too long, and she had to admit that his expression had rearranged itself; he was now looking more stern than aroused.
Gently he guided her to a sitting position once more and handed her the belt to her robe, which had somehow ended up wrapped around his neck.
He said, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Juliet, attempting to take things in stride, decided to be grateful for what she got. “I know,” she replied, “but I surely do thank you anyway, Cody McIntyre.”
Cody frowned at that. “Don’t thank me,” he said, rather harshly, she thought.
“But I—”
He cut her off. “Let it go.” Then he relented a little. “I went too far. I’m sorry.”
“You did?” She thought about that. “I don’t know. Isn’t…what you did natural? I didn’t ask you to stop.”
“Damn it, Julie. You’re a virgin.”
Juliet’s face flamed at the blunt way he said that. She turned away.
“Well, aren’t you?” he demanded.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but she managed to nod.
He swore again. “That’s what I mean. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing. And damn it, neither do I. I don’t take advantage of virgins.”
Juliet wished she could crawl under the porch. Her ears were on fire from hearing Cody talk so bluntly about her lack of experience. She almost lurched to her feet and ran across the lawn for home. But then she decided that one of the reasons she was still a virgin at thirty was a distinct lack of nerve. She’d never really get to experience life if she always backed down. So she forced herself to stay put and dared to speak. “Well, um, then,” she began somewhat wiltingly. She drew in a bracing breath and went on with more gumption, “If you don’t take advantage of virgins, then why did you kiss me?”
He granted her another long look. Then he muttered with feeling, “Hell, Julie….”
She stared right back at him. “’Hell, Julie,’ is not an answer.”
“Damn it….”
“Neither is ‘damn it.’”
“Look, I didn’t mean it to go so far—I didn’t mean it to go anywhere.”
Juliet felt a sad little sinking feeling in her heart when he said that, but she went ahead with her next question anyway. “Well, what did you mean, then?”
“I don’t know,” he said, finger-combing his hair and shifting on the step. “I couldn’t sleep. I came out here to play myself a lullaby. And then you came, trying to sneak up on me. It was like a game, and I started playing. I wanted to kiss you, so I did kiss you. And it went further than it should have.”
Juliet, absorbed in her own confusions, didn’t fully realize what a rough time Cody was having. He was both frustrated in his desire, and disgusted at himself for toying with an innocent. Partly in an effort to get his bearings—and also in an attempt to hide the evidence that his lust still wasn’t exactly under control—Cody slid even farther away from her on the step until he was practically wrapped around the big post that supported the porch roof.
Juliet noted his withdrawal, and thought regretfully of the delicious caress of his hand on her breast—a caress she was becoming more and more certain she would never experience again. She forced herself to take a long, hard look at the situation—and to recall that a man like Cody McIntyre was not a man for her.
She said, a little sadly but very firmly, “You’re right.” She solemnly nodded. “We went too far.”
Cody listened with only half his attention; he was still pondering the prospect of trying to stand up without embarrassing himself.
Juliet rebelted her robe and tied it with a no-nonsense tug. “We’ll just have to forget this ever happened, okay?” She rearranged the robe to cover her knees. “A gorgeous man like you is nothing but trouble for a plain woman like me.”
Forgetting the problem with his jeans, Cody whipped his head around to face her again, ready to inform her that looks do not make the man—and to add, for her information, that he didn’t find her plain at all. Lately.
But she prattled on before he could get a word in. “You’ve been good to me over the years. You always stood up for me when Billy Butley used to pick on me back in school, and you were my first client when I opened my service. I’ll always like you. A lot. But I don’t want to get mixed up with you. I’d only get my heart broken, and that’s a simple fact.”
“Now wait a minute—”
“No. You wait. Cody, the women are always after you. And one of these days, one of them would be sure to tempt you right away from me.”
Cody stared at her. He had half a mind to point out to her just how wrong she was. He could use his father as an example. From the time he met Cody’s mother, Wayne McIntyre had never so much as looked at another woman. Cody’s grandfather, Yancy, had been the same way. Cody came from a long line of truehearted men. No other woman could tempt him away from the woman he’d chosen for his own….
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