When Tomorrow Comes Page 8

  A quiver of delight sprang through her, and Cait’s lips parted as he raised his head, still holding her fingers. His amber eyes studied her, and her breath snagged, her heart leaping with unbidden excitement as she swayed forward. The masculine scent of his body was like a perfume to her spinning senses. She was only partly aware that he had pulled her closer, her head tilted, ready to meet his strong, generous mouth.

  The warmth of his breath fanned across her face. His mouth, moving slowly across her lips, parted them. The pressure became insistent, a powerful intoxicant. A soft noise vibrated from her throat as he crushed her against his hard, muscular body, his mouth bruising her own in a breath-stealing kiss. Dazed by the barely suppressed passion quivering within his tightly checked body, Cait suddenly found herself at arm’s length from him. Her lips throbbed from the bruising force, and she unconsciously raised her fingertips to them, staring wide-eyed.

  He frowned. “I’m sorry,” he murmured huskily. “I got a little carried away…”

  “That’s—it’s all right,” she reassured him, her voice throaty and faraway. Dave had never kissed her like that! A tinge of guilt washed over her, and she blushed fiercely, pulling out of his grasp and standing uncertainly in front of him.

  He shook his head, as if displeased with himself. “No, I can see it’s not at all right,” he growled. “It would be easy if you were like all the rest. But you aren’t. I don’t want to frighten you away.”

  She breathed deeply, the remnants of the kiss still sparking the embers of her own hungering thirst for physical contact. “You’ve never scared me, Dominic. Not ever. It’s just that I don’t get kissed like that every day.” She managed a small smile that seemed to soothe him.

  “Sure?”

  “Positive…very positive.” She wanted to say, “Never stop,” but she remained silent.

  “How about breakfast tomorrow morning?” he murmured.

  The power of the spell he had woven moments before still lingered, and she felt herself falling back into its warm embrace. “Breakfast?” Who was hungry? Right now all she could be aware of was her thudding heart. “Uh—what time?”

  A tender smile played on his mouth, as if he enjoyed her distraction. “Nine?”

  “Sure. Where will you be staying? I mean—isn’t it too late to book a reservation at a hotel?”

  He picked up his bag. “There’s an apartment I stay at when I’m in BA. In case you need to get hold of me, write down this phone number.”

  Cait scratched it down and then watched him open the door to leave. “Wait,” she called.

  He turned. “Yes?”

  “My Spanish is rusty. What did you call me just a few minutes ago?”

  He smiled. “My lioness. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  She stood staring at the ivory door after he left. The room suddenly felt barren without his vibrant presence, and she sank slowly onto the couch. He had called her his lioness.

  But just before she fell asleep, the scent of ripe oranges wafting through the open window, a treacherous thought made her eyes fly open. Whose apartment was Dominic staying in? He hadn’t said it was his apartment. She chided herself for being silly, but a growing suspicion wouldn’t go away.

  Chapter Eight

  When the knock came, Cait’s heart leaped in response. Dominic smiled genially in the doorway, looking fresh and boyishly youthful in a dark navy blue shirt and white slacks. The darkness of his tan made him look even more handsome, and she found herself smiling in return.

  “It’s a beautiful morning,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Unconsciously she placed her fingers within his and nodded, feeling a blush sweep her cheeks. They hurried down the stairs and past the doorman, who bowed with a grin and a flourish of his cap. Stepping out into the crisp morning air, Cait breathed in deeply, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “I feel like a kid,” she breathed.

  Dominic agreed as he opened the door of the silver Porsche parked alongside the curb. “You look like a child on Christmas.”

  Cait relaxed in the front seat. The roar of the sports car reminded her of a deep growl of a cat. “Is this your car?” she asked.

  He nodded, smoothly shifting gears. “Does it fit your image of me?” She saw the glitter of humor in his eyes.

  “What gave you the idea I had an image of you?”

  “I made a poor impression the first night we met. I hope I’m changing what you thought of me then.”

  Cait tore her gaze from his rugged profile, wanting to stare at him for hours to study that mobile face, which seemed to change like the tide. “I learned a long time ago not to overrate first impressions. I always give everyone plenty of rope to hang him or herself on.”

  He grinned, turning the corner and driving down a larger avenida studded with flowers and palms. “If I’d been a cat, I would have used up eight of my nine lives with you.”

  Cait laughed with him. “You are a cat,” she returned. “A jaguar.” She didn’t bother to explain what she meant, and he didn’t ask. She felt wonderfully happy and alive.

  The streets were quiet as they sped by. Women with fine lace shawls over their heads were walking to church, followed by their children, immaculately clean in blue-and-white uniforms, and their husbands, dressed in formal suits and hats. Peacefulness seemed to envelop the cosmopolitan city as they drove through the heart of BA. Eventually Dominic pointed to an expensive-looking restaurant.

  “La Cautiva. I thought you might enjoy a North American breakfast of eggs and bacon instead of desanyo.”

  “You’re right. I am a big fan of breakfast. But what is desanyo?”

  “Desanyo is the Argentine version of breakfast,” Dominic explained as they got out of the car. “It consists of coffee, a roll and perhaps some jam or honey.” He smiled, glancing down at her. “But you need a few big breakfasts to put some meat on those bones.”

  Cait wrinkled her nose and stepped into the dimly lit interior. “Not you, too! I suppose Louie has been prompting you.”

  Dominic only smiled. Cait sat down across from him in a black leather booth and studied the menu, which was written in Spanish.

  “I’m in trouble,” she muttered, peeking up over the top.

  “You? Never.”

  She grinned. “Superwoman, I’m not. Would you like to point out the eggs and bacon?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll order them for you.” A waiter seemed to appear from nowhere. She enjoyed the purring baritone of Dominic’s voice as he ordered their meal.

  “And what if I had been Superwoman?” she asked, picking up their previous conversation after their coffee had been poured.

  “I certainly would not have invited your temper.” He laughed. “You are máâs alláa de la tradition. I can deal with that.”

  She placed her elbows on the table, letting her dark hair frame her face. “My father did not raise me on dolls and tea parties, you know.”

  He sobered slightly. “He must be a very special person to have allowed you to be yourself. Never liked dolls?”

  She shook her head, a smile edging her full mouth. “As a child, I loved building things with Legos. I can’t ask the same of you. You’re obviously in a very male occupation.”

  He shrugged, a thread of what Cait interpreted as pain in his eyes. “Not so obviously. As I told you, my father wanted me to be a physician.”

  “Somehow I don’t picture you as a doctor, Dominic. There’s—” she groped for the correct words “—a freedom about you that demands to be outdoors.” She shrugged, smiling shyly. “A jaguar needs the freedom of his territory. I don’t think an operating room would give it to you.”

  He stared at her hard. “You continually surprise me with your understanding.” A shiver ran down her spine at his warm gaze, and her cheeks grew flushed.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Did you always want to be an engineer?”

  She laughed to mask her confusion. “Just about. My father was an architect, and f
rom the time I was seven, I went with him to the office. He explained what he was doing, and I guess it just rubbed off.” Her eyes came alive with excitement, and her voice grew hushed. “But most of all, I loved the times he took me out to the construction sites. The loud roar of those huge trucks and the activity of strong men molding steel into beauty…Well, you understand that. You build bridges.”

  “Yes, I do understand that. And love it…as you do.” He shook his head. “I have the damnedest time believing a woman could feel as I do about construction. Down here, in Argentina, to tell you the truth, I don’t think there is a single woman engineer in the whole country.” He toyed with the ornate silver spoon, frowning. Cait sensed that he was deep in thought.

  After breakfast they drove to the Plaza de Mayo, in the center of BA, and strolled toward the circular pool. Dominic still seemed far away.

  “Dominic?” Cait began hesitantly. He looked down at her, a tender flame in his golden gaze. She swallowed and plunged ahead with her half-formed thought. “There must have been a great deal of pain over your decision to become an engineer instead of a surgeon. Has your father finally accepted your career?”

  She sensed him tense at such a personal question. His brow furrowed and his lips thinned as he halted, throwing his hands on his hips. It was a gesture he made whenever he was upset but trying to effectively deal with a situation. She cringed.

  “My father is a man of tradition, Cait. He could not understand my decision, tolerate it or”—” he sighed “—”forgive it.”

  “But he must have forgiven you?”

  He smiled absently. “Let’s put it this way. I’ve been a disappointment to my father in many ways.”

  He took her hand. “This is Casa Rosada, the pink house,” he said, changing the subject. “Perhaps you might think of Plaza de Mayo as a general meeting place. The Perôns stood on that balcony, and thousands crowded into this plaza to hear them. Old men come here in the mornings to warm their backs in the sun. The pigeons come, because they know the old men will feed them. Look, there’s a group of children just arriving from church. Let’s sit down and watch them for a moment.”

  Cait sat quietly, aware of their bodies meeting at arm and thigh. She looked at the way he held his head. He was a man of immense pride and self-assurance.

  “Did I tell you how lovely you look in a dress?”

  She turned, lips parted in surprise. His voice had stolen into her thoughts like a welcome breeze. She smiled simply. “Thank you. You probably thought I was born in blue jeans, right?”

  Dominic returned her smile. “There is such a blinding difference to you, like day and night, Cait Monahan.” His voice caressed her, and she trembled. “You continually amaze me. How many sides of you are there?” His thumb traveled the length of her jaw, trailing down the side of her slender neck. Her pulse leaped crazily, and she felt his fingers slide behind her neck and pull her toward him. Automatically she closed her eyes, her lips yielding as his mouth lightly touched her own. A flame leaped to life within her, and she gave in to the pressure of his arm, her body swaying against his hard chest. A moan of pleasure rose in her throat as his tongue forced entry into her mouth, and her breath was suspended as a vortex of fire uncoiled within her quivering body.

  He dragged his mouth from her lips, his eyes burning with a fierce light of desire. Cait lost herself in his hypnotic gaze, her heart pounding without relief in her aching breast. She was trembling and felt weakened by the sudden kiss. It had been so unexpected, so devastating, that her green eyes were flecked with the gold of awakening desire. She saw confusion in his gaze as he drank in her upturned face. He released her slowly. “Who are you? What are you doing to me?” he demanded, his voice raw.

  Cait was stunned by the accusation in his voice. It took her precious moments to recover, to pull herself out of that magnetic vortex that had held her a willing captive. “Do you think I’m doing something I’m not supposed to?” she asked, stung. “Are women in blue jeans not supposed to react to a kiss the way other women do?”

  “I haven’t decided what motivates you,” he returned slowly, still appraising her. “You’re like a heady wine. You make me feel irresponsible and reckless.” A self-deprecating smile cut across his mouth. “I’m too old to behave like an eighteen-year-old boy again.”

  Cait wasn’t sure whether she should feel insulted or complimented. She colored fiercely, embarrassed at how easily he had pulled down her defenses and gently nudged embers of desire into life. Getting to her feet, she said, “I can assure you I’m not a siren who has cast a spell on you.”

  He rose easily, walking at her side. “Positive?”

  She relaxed, hearing the edge of humor in his voice again. Maybe he had not planned mat kiss. Maybe it had just happened and caught them both off guard. “Very positive.”

  Dominic laid a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her to a stop and forcing her to turn and face him. “I’m not sorry it happened, Cait, just puzzled as to why I can’t get enough of you.”

  Her anger soared once again, and her green eyes darkened. “Thanks a lot!”

  He laughed richly. “You misunderstand, querida. I simply can’t resist your attractions. Apology accepted?”

  She had pulled away, her hands on her hips in an imperious gesture. “I would hate to go around preplanning every damn move I made!”

  One black eyebrow rose, and his eyes danced with mirth. “Ah…you like to live dangerously, is that it? Spontaneity in place of caution? A risk-taker?”

  She colored more fiercely, feeling at odds with him. “No, I don’t throw caution to the winds either. But you seem to want to put me conveniently in some box or under some label, and I refuse to fit your idea of how a woman is supposed to act.”

  He slipped his hand beneath her elbow, and they began to walk at a slower, more relaxed pace. “As I said before, the only kind of women I know unsheathe their claws at high tea. Can I help it if you walk into my life and contradict everything I thought I knew about women?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “At your age, Dominic, you have either cheated yourself out of knowing many different kinds of women or you were very badly hurt by someone.” Cait gulped hard, watching his reaction to her hotly flung words. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She felt his fingers tighten momentarily, and she muttered, “Oh, forget what I said. It’s your fault, you know. When I get angry, I don’t stop and think before I speak. I’m sorry.”

  He leaned down and opened the door to the Porsche, a careless smile on his lips. “Your Irish comes out at the most interesting times, Cait. Climb in. I’m going to take you someplace to cool down.”

  As they sped through the avenidas, the Rio de la Plata came into view. Beautifully sculpted buildings of beige, sandstone and marble gave way to long, rectangular wooden and aluminum structures that dotted the wharf area. Dominic parked along Cangallo and switched off the engine, leaning back and surveying her through dark lashes.

  “All right, my brave lioness, are you ready to explore La Boca?” He smiled. “Or should I rephrase that and ask if La Boca is ready for you?”

  She was. The odors of the dock assailed her as she walked to the front of the car. Salt air was mixed with the smell of the blue-green river. Seagulls wheeled and flapped around the cranes, docked ships and huge housing sheds that held the unloaded cargos.

  Dominic took her hand to guide her, explaining that ships came in from around the world to transport Argentine beef, hides and tallow. She watched with interest as beef hides, stacked fifty to seventy-five per pallet, were lifted by cable onto a waiting Japanese ship.

  The colorful dress of the longshoremen, and of the women who lingered against the stolid brown walls of the sheds, reminded Cait of tropical birds. Tantalizing scents wafted in on the early afternoon air.

  “What is that delicious smell?” she asked.

  Dominic sniffed and smiled. “Are you hungry again?”

  She grinned. “It must be the salt air.”

/>   “Come on. I’ll show you exactly where it’s coming from.”

  They turned a corner that led away from the dock area, and Cait found herself weaving in and out of narrow alleys littered with trash. “Is this place safe at night?” she asked.

  “A long time ago La Boca had a nasty reputation for hot-blooded arguments between gauchos over their kept women and betting. Nowadays it isn’t wise for women to travel these back streets alone, even though La Boca has changed drastically since that time.”

  Cait enjoyed the bright reds, yellows and blues of the houses they now passed. She glanced at Dominic. He seemed so boyish now, so unlike the rugged, stubborn, defensive engineer from the site. She recognized a change in herself as well. No longer did she try to throw up her supervisory façade and remain cool and detached. Dominic made her feel free to be herself.

  They climbed the creaking wooden steps of a red house garishly painted with green trim, and entered a dimly lit foyer. çait’s grip on Dominic’s hand tightened as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. He hailed the waiter, who shrugged his shoulders eloquently.

  “Any seat in the house, Señor. What’s your choice?”

  Dominic chose a corner table and ordered their food, then rested his elbows on the table, smiling at her.

  “And what is so funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just happy. How about you?”

  The words had been spoken softly, a caress, and Cait held his amber gaze. “Yes…I am, too.”

  With a flourish, their waiter returned with the first course. Small golden fish lay on a ceramic plate heavily garnished with parsley.

  “Pescaditos,” Dominic explained, putting half of the fare on her plate. “They’re little fish that are fried until crisp, and are considered a delicacy of La Boca. Go ahead, try one,” he urged.

  She cautiously tasted one small fish. “Mmm, they’re delicious,” she exclaimed.

  The waiter brought the next course, a heaping bowl of ravioli, smelling of tomato and oregano. Cait dished Dominic a healthy serving.

  “Would you like some music?” he asked.