said.
“Some of the children don’t have parents. Some of them will live here—have to live here—full time.”
Meg’s heart hitched. While her mother’s skills as a parent were pretty non-existent, at least she had a mother. To travel through life without parents, to be completely alone in this world as a child, would feel much like a life preserver bobbing in the ocean. Too much for any child to endure.
“This place functions as a family. See the guesthouses? The children live in the homes and the faculty act as foster parents throughout the year. Really, it’s quite a system. No holidays without parents, no summer vacations staying on the grounds alone. These kids get not only an education but a foundation,” Cole said. “Something to build upon.”
“You learned all this in one afternoon?”
“When something is familiar”—his voice was low, as if this place struck a chord within him—“you tend to take an interest.”
Meg stepped down onto a patio and a breeze drifted across the spot where Cole’s hand had been. Immediately she missed the heat, the energy of his touch. She walked across the green grass to a trellis. Bougainvillea sporting crimson and fuchsia flowers lined the walkway. Cool and quiet, the plants provided a secluded nook invisible from the school, but yet there, still in front of them was the ocean. A vision of blue.
Then it hit her. Of course. Meg covered her mouth with her hand. The children without parents.
“Oh, Cole, your parents…when they…” But she couldn’t say anything more.
Cole stepped forward and braced his arm on the trellis just above her head. He surrounded her, his presence, his smell.
“ That’s why I still believe in true love.” His voice was soft, a caress. He was just behind her, nearly touching her.
“I still remember them. Together. Laughing. Touching. Working. They started Comnet in our garage.”
Of course she had heard the stories of Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, the founders of Comnet, but somehow she never personalized who they were with regards to Cole. They were his parents . Their death… Their death was the death of Cole’s childhood—his family.
“Why, Meggy? Do you have interest in my life?” It was as if he was daring her, with his throaty voice and closeness—daring her to get close, to get personal, to become intimate.
The heat of his body sent a shiver chasing down Meg’s spine. Her breath caught in her chest. To stand this close to Cole was dangerous. She couldn’t move. She was frozen to this spot, paralyzed by the very want she couldn’t admit to herself or to him.
Cole leaned forward. The hard planes of his body brushed against her shoulder blades. He lifted her curls away from the back of her neck. Her nipples tightened with his touch.
“Your life—” Meg whispered.
“Is about to get more interesting.”
His lips pressed hot against the back of her neck. Her knees weakened and she fought to stay vertical. His arm slid around her waist and held her firmly as his lips explored her neck.
She needed to step away from his touch—to pretend that she had never felt Cole’s lips on her neck and his hands on her waist. But her body betrayed her, and her hips pressed backward, arching toward him and against his hardness.
This was madness. Absolute and complete.
His mouth worked up the curve of her neck and her breath shortened. She wanted this. Now. In this moment. His hand glazed over her hip, her stomach, and stopped at her breast. With his fingertips he teased her nipple, now tight beneath her shirt.
She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. His fingertips circled her nipple and a low moan slipped over her lips.
“Turn around.”
She closed her eyes for a second. A pause so that she might collect her thoughts and hide her passion. She didn’t want to him to witness the desire in her eyes.
She opened her eyes and turned.
His gaze was dark and hungry. His giant pupils left only a sliver of blue. His
“Some of the children don’t have parents. Some of them will live here—have to live here—full time.”
Meg’s heart hitched. While her mother’s skills as a parent were pretty non-existent, at least she had a mother. To travel through life without parents, to be completely alone in this world as a child, would feel much like a life preserver bobbing in the ocean. Too much for any child to endure.
“This place functions as a family. See the guesthouses? The children live in the homes and the faculty act as foster parents throughout the year. Really, it’s quite a system. No holidays without parents, no summer vacations staying on the grounds alone. These kids get not only an education but a foundation,” Cole said. “Something to build upon.”
“You learned all this in one afternoon?”
“When something is familiar”—his voice was low, as if this place struck a chord within him—“you tend to take an interest.”
Meg stepped down onto a patio and a breeze drifted across the spot where Cole’s hand had been. Immediately she missed the heat, the energy of his touch. She walked across the green grass to a trellis. Bougainvillea sporting crimson and fuchsia flowers lined the walkway. Cool and quiet, the plants provided a secluded nook invisible from the school, but yet there, still in front of them was the ocean. A vision of blue.
Then it hit her. Of course. Meg covered her mouth with her hand. The children without parents.
“Oh, Cole, your parents…when they…” But she couldn’t say anything more.
Cole stepped forward and braced his arm on the trellis just above her head. He surrounded her, his presence, his smell.
“ That’s why I still believe in true love.” His voice was soft, a caress. He was just behind her, nearly touching her.
“I still remember them. Together. Laughing. Touching. Working. They started Comnet in our garage.”
Of course she had heard the stories of Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, the founders of Comnet, but somehow she never personalized who they were with regards to Cole. They were his parents . Their death… Their death was the death of Cole’s childhood—his family.
“Why, Meggy? Do you have interest in my life?” It was as if he was daring her, with his throaty voice and closeness—daring her to get close, to get personal, to become intimate.
The heat of his body sent a shiver chasing down Meg’s spine. Her breath caught in her chest. To stand this close to Cole was dangerous. She couldn’t move. She was frozen to this spot, paralyzed by the very want she couldn’t admit to herself or to him.
Cole leaned forward. The hard planes of his body brushed against her shoulder blades. He lifted her curls away from the back of her neck. Her nipples tightened with his touch.
“Your life—” Meg whispered.
“Is about to get more interesting.”
His lips pressed hot against the back of her neck. Her knees weakened and she fought to stay vertical. His arm slid around her waist and held her firmly as his lips explored her neck.
She needed to step away from his touch—to pretend that she had never felt Cole’s lips on her neck and his hands on her waist. But her body betrayed her, and her hips pressed backward, arching toward him and against his hardness.
This was madness. Absolute and complete.
His mouth worked up the curve of her neck and her breath shortened. She wanted this. Now. In this moment. His hand glazed over her hip, her stomach, and stopped at her breast. With his fingertips he teased her nipple, now tight beneath her shirt.
She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. His fingertips circled her nipple and a low moan slipped over her lips.
“Turn around.”
She closed her eyes for a second. A pause so that she might collect her thoughts and hide her passion. She didn’t want to him to witness the desire in her eyes.
She opened her eyes and turned.
His gaze was dark and hungry. His giant pupils left only a sliver of blue. His
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