Author's Note: The poem "Passion Builds" is one of my original poems.

Chapter 5

Caitlin returned shortly after noon. She found Frank sitting on the balcony of her bedroom, wrapped in the silk robe of her father. His profile was to her, and my, what a handsome profile it was. His sculpted, striking features made her heart sing. She had to stop thinking this way for he would leave as soon as he was well and she would never see him again.

She silently laid the purchases he had made for him on the bed and moved to stand behind him, placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder. He made no move, other than to raise his hand and place it over hers. She saw now, that the ocean mesmerized him. Yes, it was a beautiful summer day, and the breeze from the ocean cooled the sun's warmth.

He looked up at her after a moment. "You have a beautiful view," he commented.

She sat in the chair next to him and replied, "Yes, I do so love it here. The beaches in Maine are like no other. Of all the houses my family has had, this was the only one I've ever felt was home."

"What do you mean, of all the houses?" he asked curiously.

"Are you hungry?" she asked quickly. After all, it was past lunchtime.

"Are you changing the subject?" he asked just as quickly.

"Not at all, sir. I am only concerned with your wellbeing. I will answer all of your questions, my lord." She bowed her head graciously.

He laughed freely. "You are a treasure, Caitlin."

"I'll be right back with your lunch, then you can ask me anything." She smiled and then left him to run to the kitchen to get his lunch.

She brought him a roast beef sandwich, a pickle and some potato chips. She wasn't sure what he would want to drink so she brought him a beer, a Coke and a bottle of water. He chose the beer.

"Now, about those houses," he reminded her as he bit into the sandwich. Then he quickly added, "Don't you eat? You didn't eat breakfast either."

She smiled. "I had lunch in town, and I don't like to eat breakfast. I had a piece of toast, that was enough."

"Good enough, now, tell me about the houses." He watched her reach for the bottle of water, uncap it and take a long swallow. Clearly she was nervous and didn't want to talk about this subject. He was surprised when she did.

"My parents were very wealthy. We had houses in Miami, Beverly Hills, Dallas and an apartment in Trump Towers in New York. And this house was my family's vacation home." She looked at him, trying to gauge a reaction, but he didn't show one. It was about now that the greed usually showed in a man's eye when they found out she had money.

"Where is your family?" he asked, crunching on a chip.

She sighed, long and heavy. "My family is gone. Dead. Killed by a drunk driver."

Donovan reached out a hand to her for comfort and was elated when she took it. He looked deep into her eyes and read the despair and anguish she was feeling. It tore at his heart, as if her pain was his own. "I'm so sorry, Caitlin."

She nodded and choked back a sob. "Thank you, Frank. It's still a little too fresh, the pain, I mean. It happened this past New Year's Eve. So, I decided to let the lawyers sell everything, the houses, the businesses, everything. This house was all I kept. Now, I spend my time volunteering at the library, which I am a benefactor."

"You must enjoy books." He saw her eyes light up.

"Oh, yes! I love the written word and so many different genre." She was smiling happily now. She found a great deal of joy in reading and sharing that joy with others. "My time at the library is spent with the children. I love helping them choose just the right books, and I read to the younger children."

Caitlin saw him reach to his side and pull out a tablet. She recognized that tablet; she had been scribbling notes and phrases on it the night she found Frank on her porch.

"Did you write this?" When he saw the horror stricken look on her face, he added, "I'm sorry if I upset you, but it was on the nightstand."

"It's okay, and yes I did write it." She was waiting for the inevitable laughter.

Instead he read, "Beyond the sea-kissed sand, above the clouds, far past the purple horizon..." He looked up at her then and saw she wasn't looking at him, but into the distant ocean. Her fists were clenched tight and laid on her lap. "He kisses his love, arms and legs entwine, and passion builds, to heights unknown, and once fulfilled, will crash to earth, to soar again, as passion builds."

Silence was all she heard. Where was the laughter? She never let anyone read her poetry. She had drawers full of poems. They were her private thoughts, her longings, desires and a way to deal with her pain. She felt tears sting her eyes and tried to fight them back.

Donovan waited for her reaction, but was not prepared for her tears. Not thinking about his own pain, he knelt before her, placing his hands on her thighs. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to upset you. Your poem is beautiful. Forgive me for invading your privacy." He begged her. He realized he begged her. He never begged anyone and yet he didn't care. He only wanted her to forgive him.

Then his hands were cupping her face, his thumbs wiping her tears away. She looked at him then and saw what she thought was a tear in his eye. His hands had moved back to her thighs. She touched his cheek lightly and he leaned to her touch then she leaned forward and brushed her lips to his lightly. "It's okay, dear Frank. I've never let anyone read my poems and it unnerved me. Thank you for being so kind to say you thought it beautiful."

Thankful that she didn't hate him, he sighed heavily. He was also remembering the light touch of her lips. So soft. He stood then, slowly and took her into his arms. His hands explored her back, pulling her close. His lips sought and found hers, and was amazed at her response. She molded herself to him, urging him closer until they were meshed together from chest to thigh. When his tongue traced her lips, she parted them, allowing him access to tease and tantalize her tongue. The kiss grew urgent as they explored the depths of each other's passion.

She moaned, at least, she thought she did. Or was it Frank? What did it matter; he was holding her, kissing her, touching her. Her body was aflame with desire, and he fanned the flames mightily. The silk robe had fallen open, revealing his expansive chest. She splayed her fingers across it and pushed away from his kiss and looked into his eyes. There she found a hunger and desire that matched her own.

He bent his head to recapture her lips and cursed loudly when pain shot through his shoulder.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" She pulled from his embrace when she realized she had absent-mindedly put pressure on his wound when she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck to welcome his kiss.

His breathing was heavy, but from passion, not from pain. "It's okay, Caitlin. Please don't stop." He tried to assure her, but she was having none of it.

She shook her head in attempt to clear the haze of passion that clouded her mind. She backed away from Frank until her back came in contact with the rail of the balcony. "Please, Frank, don't do this." She needed to escape the feelings he stirred in her. She didn't know anything about him and yet she couldn't keep her mind off him.

She fled into the room. "Perfect," she thought upon seeing the bed. Why not just invite more trouble?

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you, Caitlin." He stood behind her, she was staring at the bed like it was going to jump up and bite her. "Nothing will happen that you don't want to happen, I promise you."

She spun on her heel to face him. That was the problem, now, wasn't it? Sheesh, even the sound of his voice caused her to become aroused. His passion caused his accent to become even thicker, and she wondered if he knew that it turned her insides to mush.

Donovan had no idea what to say to her as he watched her pace the room. Her eyes blazed with emotion and he knew he would inevitably say the wrong thing. She finally stopped at the foot of the bed and picked up the packages she dropped there earlier.

"Here," she said, handing Frank the packages. "I picked up a few pair of pants, shirts, shorts and other things for you."

He nodded, taking the packages. "Thank you." He wanted to say more, but she wouldn't even look him in the eye.

"By the way," Caitlin motioned to the door with a hand, "you can go back to the guest room. I've changed the bed linen."

Frank knew he was being dismissed, so he made his way to the door and stopped when he reached her side. "If that is your wish, Caitlin." He smiled 1 dejectedly and left her room.

To be continued...