Yesterday's Roses

by Heather Cullman

  Resolutely jerking her head away from his seductively probing tongue, she snapped, “Damn you, Mr. Parrish! Save your carnal lessons for someone who’s interested!” When she tried to move from his disturbing proximity, he clamped the steely shackles of his legs around her body and she found herself helplessly imprisoned.

  Ignoring the burst of pain exploding through his thigh, Jake tightened his viselike grip until she grew still. “Not interested, little Mission Lady?” he purred, lightly blazing a trail of kisses from her ear to where her curls lay in a subdued coil at the base of her neck.

  A shuddering sigh escaped through Hallie’s gritted teeth.

  He chuckled at her response. “Not interested?” he repeated. “Your response to my kisses just now told a far different tale.” To demonstrate, he bent down and playfully nipped at her neck. As a tremor ran through her body, he lightly admonished, “Even I know that the Bible says it’s a sin to lie.”

  “Not nearly as big a sin as lust, carnality, and depravity,” she growled, twisting her neck away from his marauding lips to fix him with a resentful glare.

  “And not nearly as pleasurable either.” Lifting one hand from Hallie’s arm, Jake threaded his fingers through her hair and one by one, drew the pins from the tight chignon.

  At the gentleness of his touch, Hallie experienced another unwilling surge of something that felt dangerously close to desire.

  Feeling her quiver beneath his hands, Jake nodded. “Good. It appears that you understand the rudimentary stages of lust. Perhaps you’re ready for lesson number two … to experiment with something more … daring.”

  Fiercely Hallie battled the heated languor that was stealing through her limbs. Jake’s power of seduction might be strong, but he was about to find out that her power of resistance was stronger.

  Like brave David facing the mighty Goliath, she squared her shoulders and spat, “You randy bastard! How dare—” But his lips claiming hers effectively silenced her protests.

  Hungrily he ravished her mouth with his tongue, his strong arms crushing her body nearer until she was cradled in the sensitive junction between his thighs. As she squirmed in a futile attempt to escape his grasp, Jake could feel the weight of her breasts pressing against his manhood and he groaned aloud at the fierce torment that immediately inflamed his loins. Damn! His revenge was rapidly turning into a double-edged sword, and it appeared that he was the one straddling the sharper side.

  To Hallie, the power of his kiss was more disturbingly persuasive than she could ever have imagined. It wasn’t the sweet, coaxing kiss of her childhood fantasies, nor was it anything like the tender one they had exchanged beneath the mistletoe. No. It was the hard, demanding kiss of a passionate man—a man whose naked desires seared her with their white-hot intensity, a strong man whose thinly reined control frightened even as it drew her. And despite her anger, she was finding her edge every bit as sharp as he was finding his.

  No! she scolded herself sternly. You will not give Jake Parrish satisfaction by becoming one of his easy conquests. You’re going to gather what few wits you have left and show him that his kisses have absolutely no effect on you.

  Yet, as his mouth brutally demanded a response from hers, she gasped aloud, and the raw heat of his kisses forced her reluctant mind to succumb to her body’s treasonous will. As an aching need blossomed in her belly, Hallie returned his kiss with reckless abandon. Something stirred deep inside, and she felt herself seething with a dark sensuality that was utterly foreign to her narrow scope of experience. With a soft moan, she involuntarily arched her body against the bulge of his arousal.

  Jake let out a strangled sob as he felt himself harden completely. Abruptly, he drew back from the intoxicating ambrosia of her lips. Everlasting hell! He had meant for his kisses to punish the uppity little Mission lady, but he was the one who was suffering.

  Cursing himself for a lecherous fool, Jake violently thrust his hips and ground the evidence of his desire against the soft swell of her breasts. She uttered a low moan and moved against him in a way that further inflamed his lust.

  Desperate with need now, Jake slid from the chair in one fluid motion, his body sparking with erotic friction as it moved against hers. He dropped to his knees in front of her, thigh to thigh, with Hallie’s face pressed against his chest.

  Uttering a hoarse cry, he ensnared her in the steely trap of his embrace and buried his face in the warm hollow of her throat. He could feel her pulse racing in perfect harmony with his and was maddened by the urgency he felt as her body melted against his.

  Gently Jake eased Hallie’s unresisting form back until she lay sprawled upon the soft blue and white Aubusson carpet. As he straddled her hips, his gaze raked her body and he felt his breath catch in his throat at the wanton image she presented.

  With her hair tumbling in an autumn profusion around her face and her lips bruised and swollen from his kisses, Hallie Gardiner was every inch the beautiful temptress who haunted his dreams. Slowly Jake let out his breath. “Dear God! Do you know what you do to me, sweet Mission Lady?”

  Hallie could only nod, far too caught up in her own maelstrom of need to deny the knowledge of his. Yes. She knew exactly how he felt. Just as she knew that she should struggle to control her body’s turbulent response to the dark flame of his touch, knew she should push him away and run from the swollen evidence of his lust, knew she should feel shame at being so easily caught in his enticing web.

  Yet, as he covered her now yielding body with his conquering one, she could do nothing but surrender to the onslaught of her own desires.

  With trembling fingers, Jake fumbled at the buttons on Hallie’s shapeless gray morning gown. To his frustration, his urgency made him clumsy, and he was unable to release more than three of the stubborn fastenings.

  In a fit of impatience, he gave the bodice a rending tug that sent the buttons scattering in all directions. Then, with a growl of victory, he flung the ugly garment aside to reveal a chemise that was surprisingly sheer.

  He had expected to find one of those thick flannel affairs favored by elderly women. But this dainty, scarlet-edged confection was so transparent, he could clearly see the coral ripeness of her nipples through the fabric. Just the sight of those thinly veiled peaks made Jake’s groin tighten viciously and with an intensity that made him painfully aware that he hadn’t had a woman in over three years.

  Embarrassed and frightened by the fervor of Jake’s gaze, Hallie made a move to cover her breasts. Before she could do more than grasp the edges of her bodice, Jake caught hold of her hands and pushed them away.

  “Don’t hide your breasts from me,” he whispered, gently outlining one rosy crest with his fingertip. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” He caught his breath sharply, only to release it the next instant with a groan as her nipples hardened beneath his touch.

  Hallie sobbed as the heat from his hand branded her through the filmy fabric. God forgive her! She wanted to feel his hands on her bare flesh with an intensity that made her ache. Unable to control herself any longer, she moaned and arched her back, crushing her breast impatiently against his palm.

  The effect on Jake was electric. With a tormented sob, he ruthlessly ripped Hallie’s delicate chemise until she lay naked to her waist. Then he plunged his face deep into the valley of her cleavage, his body twitching violently as he fought to suppress his quickly approaching climax.

  Damn it! he cursed to himself. Unless he wanted to humiliate himself by spilling his seed like an inexperienced youth, he had better get away from Hallie Gardiner—and quickly! Never in his life had he needed, or wanted, a woman so badly.

  But Hallie picked that very moment to grasp him in her embrace and undulate in a sensuously unbridled rhythm against him. As her pelvis rubbed insistently against the raw fire of his sex, he lost control.

  Savagely he ground his manhood against her belly, sobbing w
ith equal parts shame and pleasure as his trousers became stained with the evidence of his release. As the hot tide of his passion ebbed, Jake jerked once and then lay motionless.

  As he lay with his head pillowed on Hallie’s breasts, he suddenly felt like weeping; never in his life had he felt so embarrassed or so unfulfilled. Aside from the obvious physical sensations of Hallie’s body against his, he had received no more pleasure from his climax than if he had sought relief from his own hand.

  “Jake?” When he didn’t reply, Hallie gently grasped his chin and tipped his face up to her. Every plane of his face revealed a bleakness that she didn’t understand. He looked as if his best friend had just suffered a fatal accident. Stroking his cheek tenderly, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

  He cocked a wry half-smile at the naiveté of her inquiry. The woman had tormented him until he’d lost control, and she didn’t even realize it. With a harsh laugh, he replied, “It appears that you were the teacher and I was the pupil in our little experiment.”

  At her uncomprehending expression, he rose to his knees, exposing his soiled trousers.

  Her eyes widened for a moment. “You should have told me you needed to relieve yourself. I would have waited while you visited the necessary room.”

  To which he laughed uproariously. Lifting one black brow in mock humor, he replied, “The kind of relief I needed—and got, I might add—had nothing to do with the kind found in the necessary room.”

  “Oh, Lord!” Hallie exclaimed, and then she flushed a shade that gave new meaning to the word “red” as understanding dawned. So stunned was she by his revelation that she continued to he motionless beneath him, half naked and in a pose that could only have been described as wanton.

  Which is exactly how Lavinia Donahue later described it to her sanctimonious cronies at the Ladies’ Mission Society. For no sooner had Hallie’s exclamation left her lips than the parlor door flew open and Hop Yung announced the woman.

  Bossy to a fault, Lavinia pushed the flabbergasted

  Hop Yung aside and swept into the room with her homely daughter in tow.

  She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Jake straddling Hallie, and her heavy jowls shook with affronted dignity as she took in the ravaged disarray of both parties on the floor.

  In a protective gesture, Jake drew the speechless Hallie up against his chest, shielding her face and breasts from the prying eyes of the intruders. Fixing Lavinia with his most quelling stare, Jake snapped, “What do you want, Mrs. Donahue?”

  Lavinia’s mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds. Why, the man didn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed of his scandalous behavior. Imagine, cavorting with that hussy, Dr. Gardiner, in broad daylight, and on the parlor floor, no less. The man was a regular cretin! As for that loose woman in his arms, well, she would see that the Jezebel was ruined. Why, she would drive the little tart right out of town!

  “Get out, Lavinia,” Jake growled, tightening his hold on Hallie’s now sobbing form. He wanted nothing more than to toss the interfering old bat out on her backside and to kiss his sweet Mission Lady’s tears away. But to move would have meant further exposing their scandalous state, which, for Hallie’s sake, he couldn’t do.

  Lavinia’s mouth opened and closed rapidly, like an overwrought blowfish, as she tried to think of a properly scathing remark. All she could manage to blurt was, “Well! I never!”

  To which Jake replied with a humorless bark of laughter, “Of course you have, Lavinia.” He let his gaze rest suggestively on her daughter, Edith. “Well, at least once.”

  Chapter 14

  “Life just keeps on getting better” Hallie mumbled sarcastically as a fat raindrop pelted her on the head. She rolled her eyes toward the heavens above and heaved a long-suffering sigh. Oh, great! It looked as if they were in for a storm, and if those quickly gathering clouds were an accurate indicator, there was no way she would make it back to the Mission House before it broke.

  As if to confirm her fears, a silvery flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed closely by an ominous clap of thunder. Hallie started nervously. Lord! There was nothing she hated more than thunder!

  Except the wind. And those cold gusts were tearing at her unbound hair with the violence of a scalping Indian. With a snort of exasperation, she paused in midstride for what seemed like the hundredth time and shoved the tangle of curls out of her face. As she tucked a particularly stubborn ringlet behind her ear, Hallie caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. If she hadn’t felt so utterly miserable, she probably would have laughed.

  With her hair snaking in fiery tangles around her face and her eyes red from crying, she bore an uncanny resemblance to the illustration of Medusa in her book of mythology. Hardly the type of woman to incite uncontrollable lust in a man, she thought bitterly as she turned away.

  Yet that was exactly what had happened less than an hour ago. Hallie cringed inwardly at the shameful memory. She had behaved just like the wanton creature Lavinia Donahue had accused her of being, falling easily under the spell of Jake Parrish’s enchanting kisses. And to think that she had let the man fondle her in such an intimate fashion …

  Hallie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as the wind cut through the thin wool of her gown. She’d been so mortified by her passionate display that she had fled Jake’s house without stopping to retrieve her reticule or bonnet from the floor. Nor had she attempted to collect her coat, something she was now regretting.

  “Oh, double damn,” she swore beneath her breath as another booming report of thunder rocked her senses. Fine kettle of fish she was in now!

  Of course, it would be her own fault if she got soaked to the skin, caught a nasty cold which developed into pneumonia, and died a miserable death. A sob caught in her throat at the tragic thought. What would Jake do when he heard the news? Would he be moved enough to shed a tear or two over her untimely demise?

  The very notion made her imagination soar to melodramatic heights. In her mind, Hallie pictured a tender scene where a brokenhearted Jake Parrish wept while she weakly uttered her last—albeit brave—words. He would cradle her in his arms and beg her to live, to stay with him always. And then, through the power of love, they would defeat death together.

  She released a sigh at her fanciful musings. She had definitely read one dime novel too many. Knowing Jake, he would probably feel bad about her death, rather as if his favorite dog had been run over by a carriage. Yet she seriously doubted that he would mourn overly much.

  With a cynical grate of laughter that made several passersby stare, Hallie admitted to herself that the thought of death did hold a certain morbid charm at that moment. After all, if she were dead, she wouldn’t have to face Lavinia’s nasty accusations.

  She shivered again, but in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Her life in San Francisco was ruined. Lavinia had been very clear on that particular point. Of course, when Jake had mentioned something about calling due the notes he held against Mr. Donahue’s bank, the woman had fallen silent.

  After having the intruders shown to the door by a rudely smirking Hop Yung, Jake had cradled Hallie in his arms and assured her that he would take care of everything. He’d told her not to worry. He’d even apologized, and profusely at that. Yet he hadn’t told her he loved her or cared about her; nor had he given any indication that he felt anything beyond regret over their passionate episode. To him, it had obviously been nothing more than a casual flirtation gone wrong.

  To her, it had been a confirmation of her most heartbreaking fears: he had merely been toying with her emotions.

  Too humiliated and hurt to look at him, she had struggled until she was free from the restraint of his arms. Then she had fled. Because of his bad leg, he had been unable to stand, much less pursue her, and he’d had to content himself with shouting after her. His language had become quite colorful by the time she�
�d slammed the door behind her.

  Now, walking along the drafty streets without a coat, without the funds to hire a public hack, and still several miles from the Mission House, Hallie cursed her foolhardy flight. Surely she could have paused just long enough to collect her belongings? That would have been the prudent thing to do. But prudence wasn’t her strong suit these days, especially where Jake Parrish was concerned.

  “Hey, girlie! How’s about a bit o’ fun?”

  A rough-looking young man dressed like a dock worker was half leaning against a door above which was written something in Chinese. He eyed Hallie with less than wholesome interest. Subtly lengthening her stride, she made a show of ignoring him.

  Not easily deterred, the man vaulted over the porch railing and scampered after her.

  “What’s yer hurry, darlin’?” he drawled as he fell into step with his prey and let his hungry gaze rove over her body. Looked as if she’d had a busy morning, what with her hair tumbling down and her bodice half undone. Her lips had that swollen, bruised look too, as if she’d been kissed real passionate like. He licked his own lips in anticipation.

  “Was about to git myself a yeller gal.” He jerked his head toward the building against which he’d been lounging. “But seein’ as yer here, well, always been right partial to the taste of strawberry tarts. Strawberry tart! Ya get it?”

  He buckled over, guffawing at his own wit. When he finally recovered, he found himself alone. “Now where’d she go?” he mumbled, looking up and down the street. No little redheaded darlin’ anywhere in sight. He glanced back at the House of Golden Virtue, his favorite brothel, and then down the street at the Dusty Gulch, his favorite waterin’ hole.

  Hell, it was barely noon. Too early to get stinkin’ drunk, but the Chinese whores had suddenly lost their appeal. With a shrug, he headed toward the saloon.