One Night

by Debbie Macomber

  Kyle remained hidden from view behind a coat rack, debating his courses of action. He knew Bates was anxious to talk to him, mainly about what Kyle could tell him about Richards’s death.

  Sanders wanted him too, but Kyle wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was friendly conversation the counterfeiter was after. Sanders wanted that blasted key.

  Kyle had other considerations. He knew Carrie must be nearly frantic with worry by this time. Despite her promise, he didn’t trust her to stay put. It would be just like Carrie to come looking for him and walk into a pack of trouble.

  He had no choice. He had to get back to Carrie before she did something crazy.

  Carrie sat outside the cabin with a box of tissues in her lap, staring at the wide dirt pathway that led through the scrub from the road. She’d been sitting there since early that morning. Waiting. Watching. Worrying. Kyle’s mother seemed to believe he was in no immediate danger, but Carrie didn’t have nearly as much confidence in a few runes.

  Lillian had left early that morning, promising to return in a day or two. The house seemed quiet without Lillian’s eager chatter. To her surprise, Carrie discovered that she liked the older woman immensely. Now she was sitting with a tissue box handy, in case she succumbed to a bout of self-pity.

  A plume of dust rose from the top of the roadway. Carrie stood slowly, her heart in her throat, as she waited for the first sign of the vehicle. At this point she didn’t care if it was friend or foe. All she sought was an end to this terrible waiting.

  The familiar lines of Kyle’s BMW came into view, and Carrie felt the moisture fill her eyes. Kyle parked the car and, sobbing, she raced to his side and hurled herself into his arms. He lifted her from the ground, holding her tightly against him, one arm about her waist, the other in her hair. His mouth found hers, and between laughter and tears and words that made no sense they kissed and clung to each other.

  “You’re late,” she said when she could, between hungry, deep kisses. Her body had reacted automatically to his touch. The chill left her heart as the terrible fear she’d carried with her since he left slowly seeped away. It was far more than relief she felt in Kyle’s arms. To her surprise she felt suddenly, inexplicably, dizzy with need. It startled her that she could be thinking such things now when all that mattered was that he was alive and had come back to her.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Kyle said.

  “What happened?” she asked, spreading wet kisses over his face, unable to get enough of him.

  “Later. Let me kiss you.”

  And he did, again and again as if he’d never reach his fill. Slowly he lowered her feet toward the ground, his breathing heavy, as was hers.

  “What happened?” she asked a second time, needing to know.

  “Nothing serious. Don’t worry.”

  “Tell me.” She took him by the hand and led him inside the cabin, where it was cooler.

  He sat in the rocker his mother had recently occupied and pulled her into his lap. He pressed a kiss to her temple. Carrie put her hand over his and kissed his palm.

  “It dawned on me while I was driving toward Kansas City that I was handing over a key but I hadn’t a clue as to what it opened.”

  “A cache of counterfeit plates,” Carrie answered. “Richards told us that, remember?”

  “Yes, but could we trust what he said?”

  Carrie hadn’t thought of that; she’d assumed whatever the agent said was gospel. “I don’t know. But all we have—had,” she corrected, “was the key.”

  “Have,” he said, frowning. “I still have it. Max Sanders was at the rendezvous point as well as Bates. We may end up having this thing bronzed. I can’t seem to get rid of it for love or money.”

  “Oh, Kyle.” Their lives would never be the same as long as they possessed that stupid key.

  “Only it doesn’t lead to counterfeit plates.”

  Carrie’s mind whirled with possibilities. Her first thought was that Kyle had found oodles of money instead—or diamonds, or some computer chip.

  “First off, I examined the key more closely,” Kyle said, answering her questions before she could ask them. “I had assumed it was to a safety deposit box, but I don’t have one, never have. It just made sense that that was what it was. Then I noticed something etched in the bow. It looked as if it was a number, or had been at one time, only the paint had long since worn away.”

  “A locker key,” Carrie said under her breath.

  “Exactly.”

  “You found the locker? How? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”

  “Simple. I tried to imagine what I’d do if someone were after me and I had something I needed to hide, so I started searching for lockers in small towns. I checked out the bus and rail stations in every town between Wheatland and Kansas City.”

  “No wonder you’re late,” Carrie said, awed by his patience and at the same time wanting to slap him silly for worrying her this way.

  “You’re right about it being a needle in a haystack,” Kyle continued, “but I finally found the locker in a hick town where the bus station is the largest building in the county.” He paused.

  “What was inside?”

  “Papers, memos, computer printouts. I sat down and read what I could, but I wasn’t able to make much sense of it. Frankly, it looked like evidence.”

  “Evidence?”

  “My guess is that Sanders is using it to blackmail Nelson.”

  “Of course.” That made sense to Carrie. “Why didn’t the Secret Service think of that?”

  “Because they assumed the key was to a safety deposit box. That was what I told them.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know who to trust. I’m not sure what we should do.”

  “I know what we should do,” she said, with a triumphant smile. “Get married.” She checked her watch. “Does an hour give you enough time?”

  He looked at her as if she’d just suggested they strip naked and jump off a cliff. “You want to go through with the wedding? Now?”

  “Are you saying you’ve changed your mind?”

  “No, it’s just that I thought…wouldn’t it be best to wait until this mess is settled?”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned. I refuse to let you cheat me out of a wedding, Kyle Harris. Besides, your mother said—”

  “When did you talk to my mother?”

  “She drove out to see how we were doing. I like her, Kyle, and she gave me some advice.”

  “My mother? Lillian Harris gave you marital advice?”

  “Yes. She said that in order to keep you content I had to love you, and in case you haven’t noticed, fella, I’m downright eager to follow through with that part. It’s the chicken recipes that threw me. I didn’t tell her I’m not much of a cook.”

  “Chicken recipes?”

  She giggled, kissed him, and climbed off his lap. “If you leave me standing at the altar you can bet my daddy’s going to hear about it.”

  Kyle chuckled and headed toward the bedroom to change clothes.

  The ceremony was short but beautiful. It took all of five minutes, Kyle calculated, to pledge his life, his love, his future to Carrie. And love her he did, beyond anything he ever thought possible.

  She was radiant in her simple cotton summer dress with wildflowers woven in her hair, her face free of makeup, her eyes shining with love. He wondered if she’d always been this beautiful, or if he’d been blind all those months before Texas.

  He wished this could have been the ceremony she deserved, with organ music and flowers and a big reception for guests eager to share in their happiness.

  As it was, they stood alone in an empty church while Doc Henley had them repeat their vows, facing each other, holding hands. Afterward, he’d had two of his friends sign as witnesses and handed them the marriage certificate.

  “You two have a good life together, and that’s an order,” he said. He adjusted his hearing aid. “Darn thing always
acts up when I’ve got something important going on.”

  “Thank you.” Carrie was holding a small bouquet of flowers. She kissed Doc on the cheek, and his face turned as red as beefsteak tomatoes.

  “I don’t get to perform many weddings these days, but I make it a point of seeing that the ones I marry stay that way.”

  “We will, thanks,” Kyle promised.

  On the ride home, Kyle’s heart was full with all the things he wanted to say to Carrie. “I wish I could have given you the classic wedding with a country club reception and your parents—”

  “It was perfect in every way,” she whispered.

  Kyle parked under the shade of an oak tree outside the cabin. The setting sun was reflected in the still waters of the lake.

  “Shall we have dinner?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” she surprised him by saying.

  “You have other plans?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said with a lusty smile that caused his knees to go weak. She grabbed his tie and led him into the house toward the bedroom, not that Kyle needed any directing. He knew what he wanted: his wife.

  “You may not have noticed,” Carrie said, loosening his tie and slipping it from his neck. She hung it over the brass rail at the foot of the bed.

  “Noticed what?” Kyle eased open the top button of her pale blue dress. He made certain that the weight of his hand brushed against her breasts as he reached for the second button. A third followed.

  “Things,” Carrie whispered, which made no sense to him. Not that it mattered, not right then. Eager now, he worked open the front of the dress and freed her breasts from the confinement of her lacy bra.

  They both went still, hardly daring to breathe.

  Slowly his fingertip traced circles around her pink nipples and he watched, fascinated, as they hardened, marveling over the perfection of her breasts.

  He had to kiss her. Holding her face prisoner, he settled his mouth over hers. She parted her lips, and his tongue slowly entered and teased her own.

  Carrie sighed. Kyle carried her to the bed, then finished the task of stripping that Carrie had started. When he’d removed his clothes he helped her with hers, silently cursing all the layers a woman found it so necessary to wear.

  They were both impatient now, their hands trembling in their rush. It seemed an eternity since that one night in Dallas, but he hadn’t forgotten a moment of it. He wanted her again. Needed her again.

  “Hurry,” Carrie whispered.

  Kyle didn’t need encouragement. He leveled his weight over her and she parted her thighs to him. Entering her in one swift movement, he closed his eyes and groaned aloud at the shattering pleasure. It felt as though her body were a moist silk glove clasping his heated length. She soothed him, stroked him, granting him pleasure he’d never known, promising much more.

  He climaxed abruptly, the sensation exploding in his loins. Carrie followed, her cries mingling with his as she arched upward, panting. Gripping her slender hips, he held her tightly locked to him until the last spasms of release eased.

  They held each other afterward, kissing now and again, whispering and laughing. Kyle felt exhausted, deliriously happy, sleepy.

  They must have slept, because the next thing Kyle knew Carrie was tugging at his chest hairs with her teeth.

  “You fell asleep,” she said, snuggling in his arms. “It seems a shame to waste our honeymoon night sleeping when we could be practicing…other things.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “You have plans?”

  “Indeed I do.” Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously. Gently she pushed at his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Once she had him where she wanted him, she positioned herself atop him.

  Having her with him like this, loving her this intensely, was all the foreplay he needed. Already he was hard, more than ready.

  His hands found her waist, urging her to mount him.

  “In a minute,” she promised, easing his fingers away. She leaned forward as if to find her bearings and grabbed hold of the headboard. As she moved, her breasts teetered close to his mouth. He didn’t know if this was what she intended or not, but he took full advantage of the opportunity presented him. Lifting his head off the pillow, he closed his lips firmly around her nipple. Carrie reacted with a start of surprise, but as he began to suck rhythmically, she sighed and went utterly still. He responded by taking her deeper into his mouth, and she leaned forward to grant him greater access.

  He favored one breast and then the other. Carrie’s head fell forward, her hair cascading about him. Making soft cooing noises, she began to move against him. Her body was riding against the throbbing swell of his erection, and the slightest movement of her tight fanny was the sweetest torture he’d ever known.

  “Carrie, darlin’, please,” he gasped, gripping her waist, telegraphing his needs by arching upward.

  She sat up and brushed the long hair from her face and drew in a stabilizing breath. Pressing her palms against his chest, she slowly slid her nails along his rib cage.

  Kyle didn’t know her game, but either she finished what she started and soon, or it’d be too late. There was only so much of this a man could take.

  She raised her hips and then slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, lowered her body over his. The sensations were exquisite. Kyle gritted his teeth and strained for control. By the time she’d swallowed him completely, her hands were locked around the headboard again.

  She started to move then, rhythmically, and Kyle gasped. Carrie did too. His eyes tightly closed, Kyle experienced a tremendous relief knowing that she experienced some semblance of this ecstasy as well. This was heaven, he decided.

  A few seconds later Kyle felt himself dissolving and knew he’d guessed right. This pleasure couldn’t possibly be of this earth.

  Carrie woke the following morning feeling well loved, well satisfied, and well rested. Yawning, she rolled onto her back and stretched her arms high above her head. When she opened her eyes, she discovered Kyle sitting up and watching her.

  “Good morning, husband,” she said, sighing. It didn’t seem possible that they were man and wife, but it was true.

  “Good morning, wife,” Kyle returned, leaning down and kissing her. “Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded. “What about you?”

  “Like a rock.” Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his hand lingered there. His eyes seemed troubled, and she wondered why. Then he spoke, and she knew.

  “We need to make some important decisions. Like going back to Kansas City.”

  “Not today, please.” She didn’t want to think about Max Sanders, that stupid key, or the Secret Service. Her attitude might be childish, but for over a month their lives had been disrupted by this insanity. She wanted some time for themselves. They needed it.

  “But Carrie—”

  She sat up and pressed her finger to his lips. “I want you to teach me to fish.”

  “Fish?” he said incredulously.

  “Yup.” She nestled against his chest. He tucked his arms under hers and flattened one hand against her tummy as if greeting their unborn child. “Your mother told me that at one time you were a world-class fisherman.”

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “Your fishing pole’s here. I checked. I think we deserve the luxury of a one-day honeymoon, don’t you?”

  “Does this include the night too?” he asked, and she could tell from his tone of voice that he was tempted to do as she asked.

  “Of course,” she answered. “We need to fortify ourselves before facing the harsh realities of life. Just this one day,” she coaxed, twisting her head around to gaze up at him. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

  He chuckled at that, and said something about her already fulfilling every fantasy he’d ever dreamed, and she loved him all the more.

  After breakfast, Carrie donned shorts and reached for a sleeveless cotton blouse that buttoned up the front. Since they we
re alone, she omitted the bra and was fastening the buttons when Kyle’s hands stilled her. He gently peeled open the blouse and slipped his hands inside to stroke her satiny breasts. Then he kissed her and whispered, his breath warm and moist against her skin. “I love you.”

  “I know,” she said, wondering what had taken him so long to recognize the obvious. “I love you too.”

  “You realize we’re risking our lives for the sake of a few fish, don’t you?”

  “Not really,” she said with confidence. “Your mother claimed you were in no immediate danger.”

  “How does she know?” he asked, frowning, then shook his head. “Don’t answer that. It’s probably got something to do with those crystals of hers.”

  “Kyle, perhaps I’m crazy but I don’t care. I’m tired of running. Tired of hiding. All I want is time alone with you. We can decide tomorrow what we’re going to do with that stupid key. Frankly, if it was up to me I’d throw the damn thing in the lake.”

  Kyle smiled, and she knew she’d won. They would have this time—this day, and one last night—before they confronted the realities awaiting them.

  Loaded down with fishing gear, Kyle led the way to the rickety dock that stretched six feet into the lake. He sorted through a variety of hooks and flies in his fishing box, choosing one and then another as if his choice were one of supreme importance.

  “I’ll get you set up first,” he explained.

  Carrie sat on the edge of the dock, leaning back and resting her weight on her palms. She dangled her bare feet in the water, softly splashing.

  “You’re scaring the fish away,” he warned her. “If you want trout for dinner, you’d best stop warning them we’re here. Fish are more intelligent than you think.”

  She sighed and lifted her feet out of the water, tucking her knees under her chin and wrapping her arms around them. “It’s so beautiful here. I didn’t appreciate it in the beginning. What you say about us being in danger just doesn’t fit in with the tranquility I feel.”