by Lisa Jackson
“What will you do if Terri does move again?” she asked, unscrewing the top from a bottle of cola and handing it to him.
“Fight her, I suppose.” He took the drink and rolled the bottle between his hands. “I can’t follow her across the country, but I need to be close to Dee Dee. I made a mistake letting Terri take her away from me in the first place. I should have demanded that she stay in state. We lived in Montana then.…” He frowned and took a long swallow. “Doesn’t matter. It’s all water under the bridge. It wasn’t my first mistake.” His eyes found Bliss’s. The back of her throat tightened, just as it always did when he looked at her so long and hard. “I’ve made a lot of them.”
She fumbled with her bottle but finally twisted off the cap. “We all have.”
He leaned a shoulder against the post supporting the overhang of the porch. “My worst was losing you.”
“Wh-what?” Her head snapped up and she nearly dropped her soda.
“You heard me.” He smiled ruefully. “What do you think buying this place was all about?”
“I thought you wanted it to prove a point. With my dad. He fired you a long time ago, humiliated you, and you thought that by buying this place you could get back at him.”
“That’s part of it, I guess. But it wasn’t really his land I was after. It was his daughter.”
She froze, not certain she understood everything he was saying. “Look, what happened between us was a long time ago.”
“Was it?” He took a long swallow from his drink and she watched his throat work.
“Yes.”
“What about now?”
Oh, God. “Now?”
He set his drink on the porch rail, removed hers from her grip and placed her untouched bottle next to his. Then, standing only inches from her, he didn’t touch her, didn’t inch even the slightest bit closer, but said, “I want you, Bliss. As much as I ever have.”
There it was. Hanging in the air between them. A statement so direct and frightening that Bliss didn’t know what to say. She wanted to step away, to put some distance between herself and this man who knew just what to do to upset her world, but she didn’t, and she held her ground, staring up at him and wishing he would take her into his arms and kiss her as she’d never been kissed before.
“You didn’t,” she finally said. “You…you had your chance and you left me.”
“Wrong.” His gaze centered on her lips. “I always wanted you, Bliss,” he said, his voice so low it was barely a whisper. “I just didn’t know how to go about it.”
“You’re lying,” she accused, but saw the naked truth etched in his features, the pain of baring his soul.
“I wish it was different with us, but it isn’t.”
“That’s how it has to be.”
“No way.”
She looked up at him, saw the passion stirring in his eyes and felt a trembling deep within her. The world seemed to shrink. Mingled fragrances of dry earth, bleached grass and blossoming Queen Anne’s lace didn’t diffuse the scents of leather, soap and aftershave that clung to him, nor did the coming twilight dim his blatant sexuality.
What was wrong with her? Why would she fall for his lines all over again? What kind of fool was she?
She only hoped that he would leave soon and she would be away from him and would no longer notice the hard angle of his jaw, the dark secrets in his eyes or the way his jeans hung so low on his hips.
He was, after all, just a man.
But the only man who had ever been able to turn her head around and get under her skin.
Well, that had happened years before—a lifetime ago, it seemed. This time around, she was older and hopefully wiser.
He reached forward and she thought—hoped—that he would pull her into his embrace. Instead, he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. At the feel of his fingertip, she trembled. Quicksilver images of his body, naked and hard, glimmering with sweat as he’d made love to her, flitted through her mind.
“Take a ride with me,” he suggested.
“A ride?”
“To Cougar Creek. Come on, Bliss. What have you got to lose?”
Just my heart. She swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
Didn’t he know how dangerous being alone together would be? Didn’t he care?
“Good.” He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “We can take us a thermos of coffee or a bottle of wine.”
“Could we?” she teased, warming to the idea.
His grin was infectious. “You know,” he added, “I thought I recognized Lucifer in the south pasture. I suppose he’s still a mean son of a gun.”
“The meanest. Dad says Lucifer’s still a handful but not as young or as full of the devil as he once was.”
“None of us are.”
She noticed a shadow chase through his eyes, as if he, too, was remembering the fleeting past they’d shared so many years before. Suddenly she was leery. Being alone with him was tantalizing, but oh, so perilous.
“I—I don’t know. It’s been a long day and—”
“Coward.”
“I’m not—”
“So you still remember how to ride, city girl?” His voice was teasing but deeper sounding than usual.
The air between them grew thick. “I think I can manage.”
“Good.” His smile was positively evil. “Then what are we waiting for?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the time she’d called the hospital to check on her father, perked a pot of coffee, poured it into a thermos and wrapped a few cookies in aluminum foil, the sun had settled behind the mountains and twilight had descended. The first few stars were winking in a lavender sky, and a half-moon hung lazily over the horizon.
Mason was waiting for her in the paddock near the stables. Two horses, Lucifer and Fire Cracker, who was snorting and pulling at her tether, were saddled and tied to the fence.
“It’s, uh, getting late,” Bliss said, and Mason slid her a knowing smile.
“Don’t tell me you’ve become so much of a city slicker that you’re afraid to be out past ten? No one’s going to mug you out here, you know.”
“I was thinking of the horses. In the dark, they could step in a rabbit hole or stumble or—”
“They’re both more sure-footed than either you or I,” Mason said, opening the gate. He untied the animals and took the thermos, cup and foil package to tuck into one of the saddlebags. “Come on.” Climbing astride Lucifer, Mason quickly pulled on the reins before the stallion tried to turn his head and take a nip out of Mason’s leg. “No, you don’t.” Mason chuckled and shook his head. “Still full of it, aren’t you, boy?”
Bliss laughed as Lucifer rolled his blue eyes and tossed his head in frustration. “I don’t know who I feel more sorry for. You or the horse.”
“The horse, definitely. I’m going to show him who’s boss.”
“This I gotta see.” Bliss’s worries evaporated as they rode through a series of connecting paddocks and corrals, then took off through a huge field of yellow stubble. The horses loped easily over the rolling ground while grasshoppers and a covey of quail fluttered out of their path.
Bliss, despite her worries, felt suddenly lighthearted and free. All her concerns about her father’s health, his upcoming marriage, her newfound sisters and mostly her volatile relationship with Mason vanished in the clean air that tore at her hair and stole the breath from her lungs. Life was good, if complicated.
They rode through the pine trees and along a deer trail that wound upward to a craggy ridge overlooking the creek. A hawk soared high in the violet sky as stars winked and the moon cast the ground in shades of silver. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, only to be answered by a coyote whose cry was nearly drowned by the rush of water slicing through the canyon.
Mason climbed off Lucifer and the horse shook his great head, rattling the bit of his bridle. “This place hasn’t changed much.”
“No,” Bliss admitted as she slid to t
he ground. While the rest of the world had careened into the future in a mad rush of fax machines, telecommunications, computers and cellular phones, out here the land was the same as it had been for centuries. Fewer wild creatures roamed the hills, and Native Americans no longer claimed this part of the world, but the geography itself seemed unmarred by civilization.
He poured coffee into the cup, handed it to her, then took his from the lid of the thermos. They sat in silence, steam rising from their drinks as they let the dark mantle of the night surround them.
“So tell me about Dee Dee,” she said when the silence became uncomfortable and she found herself sliding glances at his profile. Damn, he was sexy. Crooked nose, high cheekbones, hard jaw, dark beard shadow and heavy eyebrows over intense eyes gave his face character while his body was lean and muscular, rawhide tough and strong.
“A great kid. Despite her parents.”
“You must’ve done something right.”
“I don’t know what.”
She sipped from her cup and the hot brew burned a path down her throat. Dear Lord, what was she doing here, alone with Mason beneath the stars, as a summer breeze played over the land?
He turned to face her and her heart kicked into a faster, more potent cadence. “So—so what happened between you and Terri?”
“Not much. That was the problem.”
“Oh.”
“Your old man convinced me that I should leave and marry her, that she was pregnant with my kid.”
“Wasn’t she?”
“Apparently not.” His words were bitter and harsh.
“But Dee Dee—”
“Wasn’t the baby. That one, I suspect, never existed.”
“What?” Bliss was stunned.
“Oh, Terri claims she miscarried, and before I knew what hit me, she was pregnant again. I think she lied about the first pregnancy because she and I…well, we weren’t together much and then you came along. All of a sudden she turned up pregnant and then you nearly were killed in the accident. Your dad offered me money—more money than I’d ever had before—to disappear and do the ‘right thing’ by Terri, so I did. Then she ‘loses’ the baby. Before I can figure out if I should divorce her, she’s pregnant again.”
“With Dee Dee.”
“Yep.” He took a long swallow from the thermos lid. “And that pregnancy was one of the best things that ever happened to me.” He lifted a shoulder. “But no matter how much you love your kid, if there’re no feelings between you and the mother, then the marriage is doomed.”
Bliss felt empty inside. All the years of envy and jealousy and misunderstanding were such a waste, such a horrid, painful waste. “If only I’d known,” she said with a sigh. “No wonder there’s so much bad blood between you and Dad.”
“He never thought I was good enough for you,” Mason said. “I was a poor kid who had to look out for his younger sister, a screwup who had no business being involved with his daughter, ‘the princess.’ The accident only proved him right.”
“It didn’t.”
“In his mind, Bliss.” He took another gulp of his coffee and tossed the dregs into the grass.
“Well, not in mine.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmm.” She caught the gleam in his eyes and her pulse jumped.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t regret getting involved with me.
“Okay,” she teased, smiling. “I won’t.”
One side of his mouth lifted, revealing an off-center slash of white. “You’re a maddening woman, Bliss Cawthorne.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He was suddenly serious. “You know, I never meant to hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied.
“I wish I could believe you.” He leaned back on his elbows and stared at her. “If I could change things—”
“You wouldn’t. You have a beautiful daughter, a successful business… What more could you want?”
“I already told you earlier.”
I want you, Bliss, he’d said. Not I love you. Not I want to marry you. It was more than she should have expected.
“I don’t know,” she said as the breeze ruffled her hair. She reached forward, spanning the small distance between them, and touched the back of his hand with her fingers. That one gesture was her undoing. The heat of his skin, the cords running along the back of his hand, caused her blood to ignite. She felt her pulse begin to throb, saw his gaze shift to the hollow of her throat.
With a groan, he moved closer. His fingers linked through hers and an intimate heat like none other she’d ever felt passed from his skin to hers.
Stop this, Bliss, while you still can. But it was too late. She was mesmerized by the depths of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the flare of his nostrils. He pulled her next to him and his mouth, wet and hard, found the pulse point in her neck.
No! No! No! a part of her screamed.
Yes, oh, yes! a deeper, more feminine part responded as Mason’s fingers twined in her hair. His lips tasted and touched, pressing soft kisses along the column of her throat. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered in a voice that was rough with need. “So damned long.” His lips found hers again, and desire, new and hot, danced wantonly through her blood.
She couldn’t think, could scarcely breathe as his hands lowered and he cupped both breasts in his rough hands. Bliss’s heart nearly stopped as he buried his face in the cleft, and through the thin cotton of her blouse his breath fanned her skin.
Somewhere deep within her a wanting, warm and moist, began to awaken. A night bird sang a soft song and a breeze stirred the long grass and madrona leaves. Her head lolled back and passion, so long denied, awakened in a rush that stole the breath from her lungs.
“Bliss,” he whispered against her throat before lifting his head and staring into her eyes again. Even in the darkness she saw streaks of brown in his golden gaze, witnessed his own apprehension before he lowered his head and kissed her full on the mouth.
She couldn’t resist. Her blood pounded in her head and the touch and smell of him invaded her senses. His tongue flicked against her teeth, then delved farther. And yearning, like a silken cord, unwound deep in her core and spread throughout her body. She knew she should stop, that touching him, allowing his hands upon her body, would only lead to disaster; but being with him was too seductive, and when he lifted her blouse from her jeans, she didn’t stop him. Nor did she protest as one by one, the buttons were undone and her skin was exposed to the breath of the breeze. She felt the lapels part as the soft cotton slid over her shoulders and his fingertips traced the path of the fallen fabric.
“So beautiful,” he murmured as he tugged on her bra strap and bared her breast to the pale light of the moon.
She could barely breathe and rational thought escaped into the night. The air was warm and silky, his touch forbidden and so, so wanted. He kissed the tip of her breast, watching as her nipple puckered willingly. Her spine curved as if pulled like a bowstring, and silently she offered herself to him.
His hand was rough and hard against her nipple, his fingers callused as he lifted her breast and brought it to his lips again. Slowly he laved the little bud, teasing and tasting, breathing fire over her wet skin.
A needy moan escaped her lips. Heat roiled deep between her legs. Desire swept through her blood and she was certain her heart, pounding so loudly it echoed against her ribs, would surely break. She couldn’t give in to him but had no will to stop his lovemaking. “Bliss—” he whispered across her nipple, and some final wall of resistance inside her crumbled. ‘Tell me to stop.”
“I—I can’t,” she admitted.
For a second, he lifted his head. His jaw tightened and he stared straight into her eyes. She reached forward and unbuttoned the top fastening of his shirt. His teeth gritted and he grabbed hold of her wrist with fingers that felt like steel. “You’re asking for trouble.”
“I know.” Her voice was low and husky. She slid another but
ton through its hole.
“Listen to me—Oh, for the love of—” He drew her into his arms and locked his mouth over hers as she pulled his shirt from his waistband and in one swift movement he discarded the unwanted clothing. Bliss’s hands explored his body, the corded muscles of his shoulders, the mat of curling hair on his chest and the taut planes of his abdomen.
He let out a low, primeval sound when she touched his nipples with her fingers and his lips became more demanding. He reached for the waistband of her jeans, yanked hard enough that her button fly gave way in a series of pops and the denim slid easily over her hips and thighs.
“Bliss. Sweet, sweet Bliss,” he whispered, lowering himself, kissing each of her breasts and the hollow between them, then moving lower to the flat of her abdomen, where he circled his tongue slowly around her navel.
A spiral of heat and need wound through her insides as his tongue slid along her skin. “Mason, oh,” she cried as his hot breath invaded the thin lace of her panties. She wriggled against him and he kissed the lace and the downy curls beneath it. “Please,” she begged in a voice that was not her own. “Please, oh, oh, ooh!”
His tongue worked magic through the fragile barrier of lace and she closed her eyes, her entire body centered where he touched her. Desire throbbed between her legs. She moved against him, silently begging for more until at last he stripped her of that last shred of clothing and kissed her intimately.
The world seemed to collide with the stars. She gasped for breath and convulsed. She was on fire, needing more. Wanting only this one man. Her body, slick with sweat, convulsed again and again before he kicked off his jeans and parted her legs with his knees.
“We should stop—”
“No!” Oh, God, please, no!
“But I can’t. Bliss…I can’t—” He lifted her buttocks and thrust into her, hard and deep, breaking that fragile barrier she’d held on to for twenty-seven years.
She let out a cry of ecstasy and pain.
He quit moving, his eyes wide. “Lord, Bliss, you’re a virgin!”
“Was,” she said. “Was. Oh, Mason, please don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” Her fingers pressed deep into his shoulders.
