Free Heiress by Janet Dailey Page B

sat off by itself in a sandy meadow of sea oats. Supported by a network of pilings that protected it from high water, it resembled a large square box with legs. Once the house had sported a coat of sunshine yellow, but long ago the sun had bleached it to a shade of cream.
    During the short drive to the house, Caroline had explained that it belonged to the parents of a friend, a fellow teacher. Caroline, it seemed, was a struggling artist rather than a starving one, who supported herself by teaching art classes in elementary school. She devoted all of her summer vacation to her own artwork.
    "What made you pick Galveston?" Dean took the easel put of the backseat and followed Caroline up the driveway of crushed seashells.
    "It was a place to live rent-free. Truthfully, it was more than that. I'd never stayed on this side of the Gulf Coast before. Just around Sanibel Island on the Florida side." She climbed the flight of wooden stairs to the wide porch that ringed the beach house. From the porch, the shimmer of sunlight reflected on the rolling water of the Gulf could be seen. "I've always been drawn by the sea. As a child I lived in a house only three blocks from the Sound. Maybe that's why I always want to be close to it. It's so. . . primordial. We all come from it. Even the fluids in our bodies have a high saline content. Without salt, we'd all die. So maybe my need is much more primitive than just being used to living near it." As Caroline pulled the screen door open, Dean caught it and held it open for her, then followed her inside.
    The kitchen, dining, and living area was all one big room, starkly finished with the bare essentials of table, chairs, and sofa. The rest of the space had been turned into a temporary art studio. Caroline walked directly to it and propped the partially finished painting on an empty stand.
    "You can set the easel by the door," she said. "There's cold beer and part of a bottle of wine in the refrigerator. Help yourself.
    "What would you like?" Dean hesitated for an instant, then set the easel against the wall by the door and went into the kitchen.
    "I prefer wine. A holdover from my sojourn in France, I suppose."
    After she finished putting her paints and equipment away, she washed the paint from her hands and face in the kitchen sink. But she didn't attempt to freshen up any more than that, neither brushing her windblown hair nor applying new makeup to her clean face. Not that Dean thought either was needed to improve her appearance, but he was slightly taken aback by her lack of vanity. As she sat on the couch next to him, curling one long leg beneath her, Dean silently admired her strong self-confidence.
    They talked, covering a variety of subjects. One drink led to two, and two led to three. In many ways they were so different, coming from totally diverse backgrounds and lifestyles, yet Dean couldn't remember a time when he'd enjoyed a woman's company so much.
    Caroline drank the last of her wine and reached down, setting the glass on the floor. There was no end table. She turned back to face him, sitting sideways on the couch with an elbow propped on the backrest near his head.
    "I wasn't sure I wanted you to come here," she admitted, letting her gaze wander over his face.
    "Why?" He suddenly didn't feel too sure of his ground, not with her.
    "Because I was afraid you were going to be one of those insufferable bores who brags all the time about how much he's worth and what he owns." She smoothed the lock of hair at his temple, then let her fingers trail into his hair. "I'm glad you're not."
    "So am I." Reaching up, Dean cupped his hand over the nape of her neck and slowly drew her face closer.
    The moment was inevitable. It had been since he met her on the beach. This was what he'd come for, what he wanted. Caroline did as well. He could see it when he looked into the velvety depths of her gray eyes.
    As he kissed her, her lips opened and Dean groaned at the silken feel of her mouth, taking