Cautious Lover Read online

  It Was A Fantastic sensation,

  Jess thought, half dazed, to think he had planned to keep sex on more or less casual terms—an easy, comfortable basis that would satisfy each of them physically but not demand too much emotionally. He knew it was possible to enjoy a physical relationship on that level, but God help him, he would have missed so much if he’d succeeded in doing that with Elly.

  It wasn’t until tonight, when she had begged him to make love to her, that Jess had finally acknowledged that the sexual relationship with Elly wasn’t going to be casual at all. Her own need and passion were pulling him into the heart of a whirlwind.

  There was no aphrodisiac on earth that could compare to being wanted the way Elly seemed to want him tonight.

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Silhouette! Our goal is to give you hours of unbeatable reading pleasure, and we hope you’ll enjoy each month’s six new Silhouette De­sires. These sensual, provocative love stories are both believable and compelling—sometimes they’re poignant, sometimes humorous, but always enjoy­able.

  Indulge yourself. Experience all the passion and excitement of falling in love along with our heroine as she meets the irresistible man of her dreams and together they overcome all obstacles in the path to a happy ending.

  If this is your first Desire, I hope it’ll be the first of many. If you’re already a Silhouette Desire reader, thanks for your support! Look for some of your favorite authors in the coming months: Stephanie James, Diana Palmer, Dixie Browning, Ann Major and Doreen Owens Malek, to name just a few.

  Happy reading!

  Isabel Swift

  Senior Editor

  SILHOUETTE BOOKS

  300 E. 42nd St., New York, N.Y 10017

  Copyright © 1986 by Jayne Krentz, Inc.

  Distributed by Pocket Books

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Silhouette Books, 300E. 42nd St., New York, N.Y. 10017

  ISBN:0h373-O5253-7

  First Silhouette Books printing January 1986 10987654321

  All the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  SILHOUETTE, SILHOUETTE DESIRE and colophon are registered trademarks of the publisher.

  America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

  CLS 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  STEPHANIE JAMES

  readily admits that the chief influence on her writing is her “lifelong addiction to romantic daydreaming.” She has spent the past nine years living and working with her engineer husband in a wide variety of places, including the Caribbean, the Southeast and the Pacific Northwest. Ms. James currently resides in Washington.

  One

  It hadn’t been the most romantic proposal of marriage a woman had ever received. If Elly Trent wasn’t so pas­sionately in love with Jess Winter, she knew she would have told him exactly what he could do with his sugges­tion of marriage. Here on the Oregon coast there were several points where he could take himself and his offer for a long walk off a short cliff. In the depths of her ini­tial disappointment, Elly would have been happy to show him the way.

  But she had recovered quickly and done the only logi­cal thing under the circumstances. She’d asked for time to think it over. She had stalled him now for a week and Jess wasn’t an easy man to stall. He always seemed to be operating on some internal master plan, a schedule that he adhered to strictly. When you found yourself on his schedule, as Elly had, you soon learned you were ex­pected to fall into place on time and on-line.

  There were other reasons for not fighting the sched­ule. Lately Elly had become more and more aware of a curious reluctance on her part to push Jess too hard. There was something about him that warned her he was not a man to be prodded in any direction other than the one he himself chose to go. A part of her feared what would happen if she tried it. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

  The offer of marriage had come last weekend. On Sunday evening, as usual, Jess had returned to Port­land, where he spent his time as a very expensive, very high-powered and occasionally very ruthless executive consultant. Elly had never actually witnessed the ruth­less side of him, but she didn’t doubt for a moment that side existed. She knew from experience that a man didn’t become as successful in the corporate world as Jess had been if he wasn’t capable of doing a little bloodletting.

  He’d reappeared this afternoon, just as he always did on Friday afternoons, pacing into her shop, The Natural Choice, with that strong, controlled stride that said so much about his basic nature. He was on time, of course. Jess was always on time.

  Elly had looked up from behind the cash register, where she’d been ringing up a pound of whole-wheat flour together with two dozen granola bars and known that she wasn’t going to be able to stall anything for an­other week. He was a reasonably patient, unflappable, coolly mannered man, but he was also calmly persistent. One look into his fog-gray eyes had been enough to tell Elly that the issue between them would be settled one way or another this weekend. She didn’t need a second look to know that Jess fully expected the matter to be re­solved the way he wanted it.

  Now she stood in her kitchen, her mind whirling with uncertainty about the bold plans she had hatched during the long week. Elly opened the oven door and peered at the simmering lentil casserole inside. She had closed her shop an hour earlier and then invited Jess home for din­ner. The invitation itself was fairly routine. She’d cooked dinner for him often enough on weekends during the past two months.

  But tonight was not going to be routine. She’d made her decision. All she needed now was the courage to im­plement the test. She leaned over to probe the surface of the casserole.

  “Ouch! Dammit—” Muttering disgustedly, Elly turned on the cold-water faucet and stuck her finger be­neath the spray.

  “What happened?” Jess wandered into the spacious old kitchen cradling a glass of Scotch in one hand. He stood frowning in the doorway, his free hand braced easily against the wooden frame.

  “Nothing. Burned my finger, that’s all. The casser­ole’s hot.”

  “I’ll bet.” He smiled briefly. “Are you okay? Want me to drag out the first-aid kit?”

  Elly shook her head, turning off the water. “No, I’m fine. Really.” She picked up the loaf of dark, whole-grain bread that was sitting on the counter and reached for a knife. Behind her she could feel him studying her quick, tense movements.

  “Be careful with that knife, Elly. I just sharpened it last week. You’re used to working with dull blades.”

  “I know. Thursday I cut myself on the paring knife. I didn’t realize you’d sharpened that one, too.”

  “I had to sharpen it,” he told her reproachfully. “You’d been using it to dig around in the dirt again.”

  “I’d just used it to trim a few leaves off my ivy plants.” She defended herself with a placating smile, hoping Jess wouldn’t go into the subject too deeply.

  He gave her an indulgent look. “Like hell. That blade had been dulled almost past redemption. You’d used it for more than whacking off a couple of leaves.”

  Elly coughed to clear her throat. “Yes, well, it’s very useful around the plants.”

  “And you’ve got a house full of plants.” Jess reached out to finger the leaves of the huge, bushy fern hung nearby. “You should use proper gardening tools, though, Elly. Not your good kitchen knives. You never know when you’re going to need a good, sharp knife.”

  “Yes, I know.” She concentrated on the bread. With any luck the bread knife would do its job properly and not betray the fact that she had used it last Friday to cu
t away a cardboard container that held a new plant she had purchased.

  “Everything go all right at the shop this week?” Ice clinked as Jess raised the glass of Scotch to his mouth.

  “Fine, just fine.” She piled the thick slices of bread on a plate. “What about you? Going to be able to wind up your consulting job on schedule?”

  “Yes.”

  Elly put down her knife and picked up the glass of Pinot Noir she’d been sipping. “Yes,” she repeated thoughtfully. “Of course. Why not? You always get things done on schedule, don’t you?”

  Jess tilted his head slightly to one side, considering the woman in front of him. His gaze wandered over the neat coronet of braided chestnut-colored hair, took in the warm, tawny-gold eyes and the brilliant persimmon-colored sweater Elly was wearing over a pair of snug, faded jeans. The sweater was loose, not revealing the gentle swell of small, high-tipped breasts. The jeans, on the other hand, clearly outlined the flare of curving thighs. She was slightly flushed from the heat of the stove, and she looked very good to him. He wondered at the faint edge in her voice.

  “Why are you nervous tonight, honey?” Jess came forward to lean against the kitchen counter. He lifted the same hand in which he held the glass of Scotch and touched her jaw with one blunt-tipped finger. “Why so sharp? You’re usually so easy and restful to come back to on the weekends, but this afternoon you’ve been as tense as a drawn bow. Are you sure you’re not having trouble at the shop?”

  The glass of Scotch was so close to her face that Elly could feel the coolness coming from it. She looked up at Jess and smiled tremulously. “We’re not all as calm and collected as you are, Jess.”

  He smiled abruptly, the expression momentarily eas­ing the harsh, grim planes of his face. Elly’s first impression of Jess Winter was that he fit in perfectly with the rugged landscape that characterized the local coast­line. Nothing she had learned about him in the past two months had changed her initial reaction. There was little conventional attractiveness about the man, but for her there was a compelling element of strength and vitality beneath the quiet exterior. It was there, she was sure, both mentally and physically. The physical part showed in the solid, lean lines of his body.

  Jess Winter, she knew, was thirty-seven years old. He had spent those years making himself successful, and Elly suspected that he’d made it on his own terms. There was too much raw power and passion lying just beneath the surface of the man to allow him to take the easy way out of any situation in which he might find himself. She just wished some of that passion she sensed in him could be channeled in her direction.

  Until now her relationship with Jess Winter had been the epitome of a polite, friendly, all-too-casual court­ship. He came to her on the weekends seeking peace and quiet, not excitement and passion. If Elly’s instincts hadn’t warned her that there was a vein of fire to be tapped in this man she would have given up in frustra­tion several weeks ago. As it was she might have to face the fact that she simply wasn’t the woman who could bring out the passionate side of his nature.

  In certain very specific ways, she reflected grimly, Jess Winter lived up to his name. At least with her. She had wondered from time to time if there had been other women in his life who had been fortunate enough to know the full depths of this man. She didn’t want to speculate too long on the subject. It was depressing.

  “You’re nervous because you’re about to accept an offer of marriage,” Jess said with characteristic insight. Amusement lit his eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You know that sometime this weekend you’re going to have to stop dwelling on the matter and simply say yes. The funny part is I didn’t expect the whole thing to set you on edge like this.”

  “Well, it certainly doesn’t seem to have set you on edge,” Elly muttered tartly.

  Jess shrugged. “Why should it? We both know we’re doing the right thing.”

  “Do we?”

  “Elly, we’re perfect for each other and you know it. You’re just what I need. Just what I want.”

  Elly busied herself putting the bread into the oven to warm. It was easier than meeting his eyes. “Are you sure, Jess? Are you really sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Is that what’s worrying you? That I don’t know my own mind? After the past eight weeks you should know me better than that.”

  Elly sighed as she closed the oven door. “You’re right. I should know you better than that. You always seem to be aware of exactly what you’re doing and why. The way you arrived in town two months ago and immediately began negotiating for that old Victorian monstrosity on the bluff overlooking the sea, the way you’re deliber­ately winding down your career as a consultant so that you can move here and set up an inn, everything you do. It’s all neat and tidy and certain.” She shook her head and reached for her glass of wine again. “You seem to have all the little loose ends of your life neatly tied off.”

  “I’ve been working on it,” he reminded her softly.

  Elly took a long sip of the wine. “I realize that.”

  “Getting things in order, tying off loose ends, know­ing what I want and how to get it, those are my strong suits, Elly. That’s the way I operate. I didn’t think it bothered you.”

  Instantly she heard herself rush in to reassure him. “It doesn’t bother me! I admire you for the way you’re tak­ing the risk of starting a whole new career. I admire the way you get things done. You’ve got so many plans and ideas, and I just know you’ll be successful running your inn, but I’m—” She broke off in frustration, unable to put her real fears into words.

  “You’re what, Elly?”

  “I guess I’m just not sure why you want to marry me,” she concluded lamely. “I know this sounds trite, but frankly, I wouldn’t have thought I was your type.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Well, I’m glad somebody does!”

  Jess grinned. “What kind of woman do you think would be my type?”

  Elly stared stonily across the kitchen, concentrating on the row of African violet plants she had sitting on the windowsill. “Someone a little flashier than me; no, a lot flashier than me. Someone with a high-powered career in the city, perhaps. A fashion model, a lawyer or a corpo­rate executive, maybe. Someone who knows clothes and the right people. Someone with style and wit and flair.”

  “You’re describing exactly the kind of woman I don’t want.” Amusement underlay his words. “Besides, what would I do out here on the coast with a high-powered lady executive who was into clothes and Porsches and high-tech furniture? That kind of creature needs a city environment. She’d give me nothing but trouble here. Too much trouble.”

  “And you think I won’t?” Elly dared.

  Jess laughed and reached out playfully to grab a handful of her neatly bound braids. He gave her a light shake that rumpled her hair but didn’t dislodge the co­ronet. “The only trouble you’re likely to give me is starving me to death. When do we eat?”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “No, I’m not. There isn’t any question to be avoided.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss across the tip of her nose. “I keep telling you, we’re perfect for each other. We’re—” he searched for the word “—comfortable to­gether. Similar interests, similar tastes, similar goals. As soon as I complete my move from Portland, we’re going to share similar life-styles. We both like this little town with its Victorian monstrosities. Just look at this place you call home!”

  Elly ignored the reference to the old, weather-beaten two-story house she had bought two years ago..She wouldn’t let herself be sidetracked. “Has it occurred to you that I may not see myself in the role of comfortable companion?”

  Some of the affectionate humor faded in Jess as he eyed her challenging expression. “Are you sure nothing is wrong, Elly?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “You’re not acting normally.”

  “You mean I’m not proving very comfortable this evening?”

&nbs
p; “Easy, honey,” he said soothingly. “As long as you’re just tense because you’re on the verge of getting mar­ried, I won’t worry about it.”

  “What would you worry about?”

  He lifted one shoulder casually. “If there was some­thing more serious bothering you, I’d be concerned.”

  “Really? What would you do about it?” She couldn’t seem to stop herself from deliberately pressing the issue. It was ridiculous. There was nothing to be gained from this approach. Besides, this wasn’t the way she had planned to have the evening develop.

  He looked at her oddly. “I’d do whatever had to be done,” he said simply.

  Elly closed her eyes in brief frustration. This was get­ting her nowhere. “Forget it, Jess. I don’t know why I’m spitting at you. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about you all week, knowing you’d expect an answer this weekend. I’ve been getting more and more anxious for no real rea­son.” She tried a fragile grin. “After all, what can you expect under the circumstances? Women my age aren’t accustomed to receiving offers of marriage every day of the week.”

  “Thirty is fairly advanced, all right. You should be grateful I’ve come along to rescue you from a life of boring spinsterhood.” There was wicked laughter in his eyes.

  “Is that how you see yourself? As my rescuer?”

  “To tell you the truth,” Jess said mildly, “I think the opposite is the case. You’re rescuing me.”

  That caught her interest. “From what?”

  “More than you will ever know,” he said lightly, dis­missing the subject with a casual wave of a hand. Isn’t that casserole ready yet?”

  Elly decided she could take a hint when she got hit over the head with it. “I think so. Why don’t you take the bottle of wine over to the table?” She turned back to the stove, occupying herself with ladle and bowls.

  He teased her about saving her from spinsterhood, but the unnerving truth was that Jess Winter had made no real effort to introduce any degree of passion into the re­lationship. Some salvation, she thought wryly. The light kiss with which he had dusted her nose a few minutes ago was typical of the caresses Elly had received from him in the past two months. She thought about it bleakly as she ladled the rich lentil concoction into earthenware bowls and heaped grated romano cheese on top of it.