Cutter's Law

by Judith Rochelle

  The music easily filled the silence, and they rode listening to familiar tunes for an hour before Allison saw lights of a town ahead.

  "Where are we?"

  "Monroe. About fifty miles from White Tail. There's a place here I like that serves great steaks. Not too fancy,” he warned.

  "Fancy can get old pretty fast,” she told him. Whoops. Is that me talking? The dedicated customer at Biga on the Banks and Ruth's Chris?

  He raised an eyebrow but made no comment. In moments they had turned off the highway onto a narrow road that ended in a parking lot in front of a large, limestone building. A discreet sign on the porch read The Cattle Company, and through the wide picture windows Allison could see the flicker of more than a dozen hurricane lamps.

  Morgan helped her out of the truck, onto the porch and through the wide double oak doors. Inside polished oak floors stretched away into half a dozen small rooms. To the left muted conversation drifted out from a narrow bar.

  "Good to see you, Morgan.” The hostess smiled at them. “You haven't been around much lately."

  "I thought I'd take a chance on civilization tonight. Hannah, this is Allison Moore."

  Hannah smiled. “Welcome to The Cattle Company."

  "Hannah and her husband own the restaurant,” Morgan explained.

  "Husband and wife partnership seems to be big around here,” Allison commented.

  "At least one always knows what the other is doing."

  Allison wasn't sure if the remark was meant as a joke or not. She was glad when the waiter took their drink orders, gladder still when the order came.

  She looked around the room where they'd been seated. She counted twelve tables all filled. Some of the people smiled at Morgan, but no one approached.

  "Do people stay away from you because they think you'll bite?"

  "That's possible. But people come here to have quiet meals, and they don't intrude unless invited. That's another reason I picked this place."

  Sipping at her drink Allison felt herself begin to relax a little more. Morgan was obviously making a tremendous effort to be pleasant, asking her about herself, telling her about his childhood. The idle chatter flowed over salads and the main course.

  As they talked about themselves, engaged in light conversation, the tension of the early part of the evening—and their initial encounter the night before—slipped away like water ebbing away from the shore. One minute it was there, now it was gone.

  "You're right about the steaks,” she told Morgan, working her way through a tender New York strip. “I can cut this with a butter knife.” She looked around. “No wonder this place is packed."

  "Most of their advertising is word of mouth. Even during the week they feed a good crowd."

  Their dinner plates had been cleared, dessert refused and coffee served when Morgan picked up his cup, swallowed some of the hot liquid, then set the cup down with deliberation. She waited the space of several heartbeats before he spoke again.

  "Well, we got through dinner without killing each other, didn't we?"

  She laughed. “Yes. And I enjoyed it."

  "Allison, we really need to talk."

  Her stomach clenched. Now what? “Oh oh. Is this the big speech about how we won't be seeing each other again?"

  "Far from it.” His eyes fastened on hers. “I know I acted like an asshole the other day. I'm sorry. But I've got some hang-ups that are hard to get around."

  She made a face. “Don't we all?"

  "Not like this.” He picked up his cup, then put it down again. “I felt something when I met you the other day that I haven't felt in a long time. It caught me off guard.” He stopped, shook his head and started again. “Allison, if we plan to see each other again, there's something I need to tell you."

  Butterflies were suddenly doing a war dance in her stomach. Was this the mysterious secret that Paige refused to divulge? And how would it impact her? She wasn't too sure she wanted to hear what he had to say.

  "Do you have a fatal disease?” She tried to settle the unease with a joke.

  He grimaced. “Sometimes it feels like it.” His eyes took on a distant look. “I know Paige has told you I was married before."

  "This is another one of those questions where no matter what I answer it's wrong. Right?"

  "No, it's okay. That fact isn't exactly a secret. But I don't talk about it too much. Either the marriage or the end of it."

  She could hardly stand the pain in his voice. “Morgan, don't feel you have to explain anything to me. We finally seem to be doing okay. Let's not rock the boat."

  He stared into his coffee cup. “No. That's no good. I can't believe I'm telling you this when we've just met. I never talk about this with anyone. Even my brother."

  "Morgan..."

  "But if we plan to see each other again, you need to know what makes me tick."

  She raised an eyebrow. “And do we? Plan to see each other again?"

  A tiny smiled teased at his mouth. “I'd like that. If you do, that is. But there are some things you need to understand first. So let me spill my guts, okay?"

  She nodded.

  "I guess you know I worked for the Bexar county sheriff for four years before I decided I really wanted to be home. In White Tail. The place I was born and raised. San Antonio just didn't cut it for me. I felt as if I was out of place.” He looked up at her. “You understand?"

  She shrugged. “Everyone has to find their own place, Morgan. You needed to be in yours."

  "There was a spot on the force, I took it, and when the chief retired and moved to Arizona, the town council appointed me to take his place."

  "You love your work, don't you.” She made it a statement, not a question.

  "I love White Tail. It's as simple as that. And when I came home, I was tired of chasing women and telling myself I was having a good time. I wanted to get married. Have children. Put down my own roots, as it were."

  He took another swallow of coffee.

  Allison watched and waited, forcing herself to be quiet.

  "I met Amber at a rodeo,” he told her. “She was beautiful, smart, sophisticated. She made a big play for me and naturally I was flattered. The male ego is a strange thing, Allison. It twists your brain."

  "You could say the same thing about women, you know."

  They waited while the waiter refilled their coffee cups.

  "I suppose you're right. Anyway, long story short, we were married three weeks later and I thought heaven had swallowed me up."

  When he stopped talking, she said, “Morgan we don't have to talk about this now."

  "Yes. Yes, we do. I want you to understand what's got me so tied up in knots."

  "Okay.” She smiled, not sure she was ready for him to unburden himself to her, yet wanting to know what was behind the bitterness in this complex man.

  "Like I was saying, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven when Amber came onto me that way, and then said she'd marry me. But apparently she decided she'd landed in hell. Things fell apart real fast. Then one day three months after we were married, I came home to find the house empty, her things gone, and a letter about me and the town that would have peeled the varnish from the furniture."

  "Oh, Morgan, I'm so sorry.” She started to reach across the table for his hand, then pulled back. She wasn't sure exactly what to do.

  "I don't want your pity, Allison. I'm just giving you some background so you understand why I don't trust women, especially those from the city. I learned we have different values and different views of life. I still have scars that won't heal. That's why I don't trust easily, and why I have my defense shield up with you even when I want you to break through it."

  Allison stirred her coffee, choosing her words carefully. “I am so sorry that Amber was a thoughtless, heartless bitch, but I'd like to think the only thing she and I have in common is we're both female."

  "Allison,” he interrupted.

  "No. Stop. Let me ask you a question. Why did you drive
me back to San Antonio the other day? Why did you ask me out tonight? This is more than just being polite because of the wedding."

  His eyes locked with hers, and the bright blue was the color of the ocean. “The other day, in the D&D, there was nothing of the city glitz about you. You were at ease with everyone, not ‘on stage’ or performing in any way. You didn't look down your nose at anyone. For the first time since Amber left, I thought I'd met someone I'd like to know better."

  "But on the drive back you stiffened up on me. Retreated back in your shell."

  "I—thought I'd made a mistake. You seemed different when we left White Tail."

  "Because I like to joke and tease?” She made a face. “I realized afterwards I'm so used to playing a part with people I wasn't comfortable being myself."

  "You have a life much different than mine,” he pointed out. “I didn't even think I could conjure up an evening out you wouldn't laugh at."

  Allison felt herself flush. “You bought yourself a pretty low opinion of me based on a few hours, cowboy.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, that just slipped out."

  "It's okay. I shouldn't be so sensitive.” He gave her a tiny smile. “Just don't call me Wyatt Earp, okay?"

  "All right. So, back to the topic at hand. All that other garbage aside, if you feel that way why did you ask me out tonight?"

  "Because I knew I'd jumped to conclusions, and I wanted to find out which was the real Allison—the one in White Tail or the one in San Antonio."

  She finished the last of her coffee and set her cup down, patting her lips with careful movements. “And what if you find out they're one and the same?"

  He sighed. “Then ... maybe I can get used to both of them. Allison, I'm putting all my cards on the table. My head tells me there's something real there.” A smile danced across his mouth. “And my body thinks you're terrific, too."

  She burst out in a full-throated laugh. “Well, that's honest all right.” She leaned across the table. “You're okay, Morgan. More than okay. And look, we did all right tonight, didn't we?"

  "Yes, we did. I'm really out of practice but I'd like to do this again. And Paige and Ryan will probably breathe a sigh of relief that they can get married without the maid of honor and best man killing each other."

  The ride back to White Tail was much like the one earlier in the evening, except this time neither of them were on edge, and Allison hummed along to the music from the CD. All too soon, as far she was concerned, they were back at the ranch.

  "Well, they left a porch light on for us, but the rest of the place is dark."

  "I think they have better things to do than wait up for us. Besides, I'm kind of glad for the dark."

  Morgan parked as far away from the house as he could and turned off the ignition. They sat in the truck peering at each other in the dark. The full moon cast its silver glow, outlining their bodies. Then he pressed a button and the seat slid smoothly back. He unbuckled his seat belt, reached over to unfasten Alison's, and almost before she realized it he was beside her, pulling her against him. His hand reached to cup her face and turn it toward him.

  Her heart beat sped up and a corner of her mouth turned up. “Are we going to neck?"

  "Sounds like a good idea to me.” His deep voice was slightly shaky. “How about you?"

  Her own voice none too steady, she said, “Oh, I'm definitely up for a little necking."

  If the kiss the previous night had scorched them despite its brevity, this one consumed them like a raging inferno engulfing them both.

  Morgan's mouth pressed down on hers, his tongue licking at the seam, his teeth nibbling her lower lip, the soft skin of her lips seared by his touch. Fire began to race through her veins and all she could think of was this man and his touch.

  "Open for me.” His voice was husky.

  When she opened her mouth his tongue swept in like a wild marauder, invading the inner softness. Her own tongue dueled with it, tasting him, his mouth heavy with the flavors of coffee and good Kentucky bourbon. He shifted his head to give him greater access as he continued to devour her mouth, swallowing the tiny moan that bubbled up from her throat.

  Desperate to feel his skin under her fingers, she pulled at his shirt, grateful it had snaps rather than buttons, vaguely hearing the popping sounds as she yanked it open. Then her hands were skimming over the smooth skin of his chest, her fingers curling in the crisp mat of hair, his flesh burning under her touch. When her fingertips found his nipples, she raked her nails over them lightly. His body jerked and his mouth bit down harder on hers, making her gasp.

  "God, Allie.” His voice was almost unrecognizable, his breath like a hot wind against her face. “Sweet Jesus."

  They were like starving children placed at a banquet table, so hungry for each other they wanted to taste and sample everything at once. When he pulled her legs across his lap even through the heavy denim of his jeans she could feel the rock hard shaft of his erection against her thigh. It burned like a heated steel rod, sending shock waves through her.

  Cradling her body against him, his hand slid beneath her sweater, smoothing up and down her back, the roughness of his skin creating delightful friction every place he touched. When she felt his knuckles barely rub against the sides of her breast, an arrow of heat shot straight through to her core and she felt instant dampness between her legs.

  Everything around her faded away, leaving her suspended in space, in a cocoon alone with Morgan, his maleness surrounding her. His scent, a seductive mixture of spice and musk, drifted tantalizingly across her nostrils, setting every pulse in her body throbbing and the millions of tiny nerves in her body snapping and firing.

  "Allie,” he breathed, as he lifted his lips barely an inch. “My God, Allie."

  "Mmmh,” she hummed, unable to form a coherent thought, arching against his hand.

  He fumbled with the clasp on her bra, finally shoving the fabric aside and letting the weight of her freed breast rest in his palm. His thumb teased across her nipple and her blood thundered through her veins. He pushed her sweater up around her neck and bent his head to take one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. Allison jerked, and clasped his head tightly to her body. As he suckled lightly on the diamond-hard point, the wetness from his tongue like a burst of electricity, she vaguely felt his hand reach for her jeans, unsnapping and unzipping.

  And then his hand slid inside the scrap of lace that passed for her panties, and one long, lean finger slid between her heated folds. With unerring accuracy, he curled the finger and found that very sensitive spot inside her, high up, and teased at it. Electricity shot through her.

  Everything in her body was centered between her legs and that wicked finger, rubbing her, teasing at the entrance to her core, while he continued to pull at her breast with his mouth. Passion lashed at her, turned her body into one continuous burst of flame.

  Then his teeth clamped onto the nipple, his finger locked into her hot, wet sheath, his thumb pressed against her throbbing clitoris, and just that quickly spasms overtook her. The orgasm shook her from head to toe, her body jerking and impaling itself on his finger. He was relentless, stimulating both her breast and her sheath, rubbing his thumb in a circular motion over her clit, holding her to him as the convulsions wracked her.

  When the storm finally passed, she lay limp in his arms. He lifted his head from her beast and took her mouth, stroking the inside with his tongue much as his finger still stroked her inside, absorbing the tiny aftershocks. When he was sure the last vestige of the orgasm had subsided, and her breathing returned to something close to normal, she felt him remove his hand, lay its warmth on her stomach for a brief moment, then zipped her up and helped her adjust her clothing.

  "Morgan?” She tried to focus on his face, seeing in his expression the same stunned look she was sure was on hers.

  "Got away from us, didn't it?” He grinned in the darkness, despite the unsteadiness in his voice and his uneven breathing.

  She leaned
against him, her hand resting on the muscular plane of his chest. “I haven't done this in a car since I graduated from high school.” Her voice was still breathless and shaky.

  "Me, either.” His own voice was unsteady.

  She looked up at him again. “But you didn't ... We didn't ... I mean..."

  "Sssh.” He touched a finger to her lips. “It's all right. I didn't mean for even this to happen, but my God, Allie. When I touched you I couldn't help myself."

  "Does this make me a loose city woman?” She tried to ask the question in a teasing manner.

  Morgan's face was serious. “I wouldn't say anything about you is loose, darlin'. And no, what it makes you is an honestly responsive woman."

  "But you didn't...” She struggled with the words again.

  He put his lips close to her ear, stroking the shell with the tip of his tongue. “No, I didn't. And I won't, until I'm buried deep inside you, and can feel those hot, wet muscles gripping me."

  Allison felt herself go hot all over. Another minute and she'd be stripping her clothes off herself. My God, what was it about this man that made her react this way? She pushed herself away from Morgan's warmth. “I'd better go in before I lose control and ravish you."

  He smiled and touched her lips with his. “There's nothing I'd like better. But not in my brother's driveway."

  She giggled. “You're right. I'd better go in."

  "Only one more week until the wedding. Will you be coming back again before then?"

  She nodded. “Once or twice more. I'm bringing some stuff she ordered in San Antonio. Also, you know her folks are selling their house and moving out this way. Most of Paige's stuff will just get shipped to her, but there are some things she wants right away, and she doesn't have time to drive in for them."

  "We won't have too much time alone, will we?"

  Allison shook her head. “No, but we'll steal whatever we can. Here.” She found her purse, dug into it for one of her business cards and wrote a number on the back. “This is my cell. You can always reach me on this if you want to call. I might not be home and I don't think you want to run the gamut at the office."