Page 48 of The Promise
"Can't say for sure, but looks like it was a propane heater. Those things are accidents waiting to happen, and when you add paint solvents to the mix, well…" He shrugged.
Cara felt sick. Itwasher fault. She clenched her fists, trying to control the agony welling up inside her. Michael and the man were still talking, but the words stopped making sense. They ebbed and flowed around her, but she was no longer listening, her eyes fixed on the charred remains of the gallery.
Wisps of smoke curled lazily among the broken beams and shattered walls that marked all that was left of her studio. In the span of a few short hours, her life's work had quite literally gone up in smoke.
Michael's strong fingers curled around hers, his touch sending shivers of warmth coursing through her icy heart.
"It's all gone." Her voice quivered, echoing the pain inside.
His hand tightened on hers. "No, Cara, not everything."
She tipped her head up to meet the intensity of his gaze, her belly tightening as he bent his head to brush his lips against hers.
"Let's go home," he whispered.
Michael paced backand forth across Cara's living room floor. What the hell was taking her so long. It seemed that she'd been in there forever. He looked at the closed bathroom door, willing it to open, his body coiled tighter than a rattler ready to strike.
Finally, telling himself that he needed to make sure she was all right, he flung open the door. She was standing in front of the mirror, staring blankly at her naked reflection, tracks from her tears still etched in the black soot on her face, her silver pendant hanging from the fingers of one hand.
"Cara?"
She didn't move. Her other hand gripped the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles were white. He'd seen this before. One summer when he'd worked at the mine, there'd been a cave-in. Three men were trapped inside and only one had escaped. At first, the man had been fine, even making jokes about it all. Then, a couple of hours later, he'd started shaking, his eyes fixed and staring. The doctor had called it shock.
He took the necklace from her hand, laying it by the sink and gently loosened her grip on the counter, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into the curve of his body. Their eyes met in the mirror and he was relieved to see a spark of life. He rubbed his hands over her, trying to warm her, trying desperately not to think about the silky skin beneath his fingers.
"You're cold. We need to get you into the shower."
She nodded, her eyes still locked with his in the mirror.
"Cara, say something, I need to know you're all right."
She tilted her head regarding their reflection. "Michael?"
"Come on, Cara, you've got to help me."
She nodded, but made no effort to move. He spun them around, away from the mirror, and reached out to turn on the spigots. Water gushed out and he marveled again at the ability to get hot water with only a turn of a handle.
He urged her forward, trying to get her to step into the warm stream of water. But she shook her head and nestled closer to him, evidently unwilling to leave the circle of his arms.
"All right, then we'll have to do this together." Holding her with one arm, he maneuvered them into the stall that held theshower. The water ran over them like gentle fingers, soaking his shirt. She stood still, letting the water run over her, washing away the remnants of the fire. Black water pooled at their feet running down the drain, leeching away until the water ran clear.
Michael took the bar of softly scented soap and slowly, gently began to massage it into her, starting with her shoulders and working down in slow soothing circles, until she was slippery with soap. Gritting his teeth, he tried not to think about what he was doing, what he was touching. He tried to ignore the single-minded part of his body already tightening with need. A groan emanated from somewhere deep inside him as he tried to forget just how badly he wanted this woman.
Cara sighed with contentment.She had thought she'd never feel warm again, but there was heat spreading inside her, starting with her belly and inching outwards. She arched her back, allowing the soothing fingers of water to stroke her.
They urged the heat onward, and she strained for more, moving her body against the gentle rhythm of the water. Soap slid down her and the contrast of the water against its slick lather was almost unbearably wonderful. She felt her nipples harden and swallowed a shallow moan.
She ran a hand down her body, lightly touching her breasts and belly, and then stopped, puzzled when her hand encountered another hand. One that definitely didn't belong to her. Her eyes flew open and she turned to meet cobalt eyes.
Michael.
Her breath caught and she smiled slowly, feeling the heat building in intensity. He stepped back, frowning, his eyessearching hers. Immediately she shivered, missing the warmth of his body against hers.
She bit her lower lip, suddenly uncertain. Was this a dream?
With a slow deliberate movement, she raised her hand and ran it along the curve of his jaw, feeling the rough beginnings of his beard. She trailed her fingers across his lips, pleased when she felt his body tremble at her touch. No, he was definitely real.
With both hands she began to unbutton his shirt, her eyes never leaving his. His breathing was harsh and his eyes were still full of questions, but he let her remove his shirt.
