She felt the cooler air on her skin as Mac yanked her knit top from the waistband of her jeans, then tunneled beneath it to deftly unhook her bra.
Erin tore from the kiss as his callused hand closed on her breast. Her nipple went bullet hard against his palm. “Not here,” she said in a trembling murmur. “It’s too public.”
Removing his hand, Mac buried his face in her neck, drizzling kisses onto her throat. He hooked his arm beneath her bottom, then lifted her high to nuzzle moist kisses over her collarbone and the swell of her breasts through the open placket of her shirt.
“Everyone’s gone now,” he rasped, slowly sliding her down his length, then holding her against his arousal. “The bunch that went by a minute ago was the last of them.”
He captured her mouth again, and Erin gave herself over to his taste and texture and heat for another mind-spinning minute…until clear thought made another gasping comeback.
“But others could come down from the top.”
“Uh-uh. It’s too late. The park’ll be closing soon. The rangers and SCAs won’t let anyone else start the walk.”
“That’s exactly right,” an unfamiliar male voice stated from outside the dwelling. “We won’t let anyone else start down.”
Shocked, Erin and Mac sprang back from each other to gape at the uniformed man on the path.
“And the park’s already closed,” he continued, laughing a little. “Guess you folks didn’t hear the announcement.”
What she’d heard was an announcement? She’d thought it was a last-ditch warning from her conscience.
Mac’s embarrassment gave way to self-deprecating humor. Bringing a hand to his hip, he chuckled softly. “Guess we didn’t.”
Wishing the floor would swallow her up, Erin spun away to rehook her bra and tuck her shirt back in.
Mac ambled a few steps toward the brighter light of the doorway, his boots scuffing over clay and stone. “Give us a minute, okay?” he asked the ranger. “We’ll be right up.”
“Sure. Only a minute, though. We can’t leave until your vehicle’s out of the lot, and we’d like to go home and get some supper. Oh—and don’t forget your camera.” His parting words carried to them as he walked away, chuckling. “You know, there have to be safer and more comfortable places to make out.”
Mortified, Erin met the amusement in Mac’s eyes.
“Well. That was fun. I haven’t been caught necking with a pretty girl since my high school principal found me with Jacki Elliot in the weeds behind the school.”
“It was not fun, it was humiliating,” she muttered, then peered out from the dwelling to make sure the ranger was far enough ahead of them before she ventured out. Grabbing her camera from the rock ledge, she strode quickly along the paved path.
Mac followed. “Terri, slow down, it’s a long way to the top.”
“Dear God,” she went on, increasing her speed. “I don’t know how I could have— I don’t do things like that.”
Mac snared her hand, stopping her in her tracks, and turned her toward him. Draping his forearms over her shoulders, he smiled down into her eyes. “Relax. We didn’t do anything wrong. The devil isn’t going to take an elevator up from hell and drag us back down with him.”
“But I don’t do things like that!” she repeated.
He pecked a kiss on her lips, that playful grin still in place. “Maybe I’m just irresistible.”
Erin sighed. “Mac, how can you be enjoying this? We’re adults. We’re supposed to have some self-control. Look at you. Your hair’s all over the place, your shirttail’s half out and your—” She flushed, seeing that he was still extremely interested in finishing what they’d started.
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Then, suddenly, it was funny, and she had to fight a smile. Maybe he was irresistible. “You’re a wreck.”
“That would be your fault,” he teased, then added, “Your mouth’s all red and puffy.”
“And that would be your fault.” Shaking her head, she reached up to finger comb his thick, dark hair, then pulled her ribbon from her jeans pocket and tied her own into a low ponytail. “Now can we please get out of here?”
“Sure. Want to stop at the center and get those brochures?”
“No!” she shrieked. And their laughter echoed through the canyon.
“I had a nice time this afternoon,” he said when he walked her and Christie back to the house.
Though Christie ran inside to put her latest sheaf of crayon drawings on the refrigerator, Erin lingered on the porch. She didn’t want the day to end. It had been so long since she’d laughed, enjoyed…felt young and pretty and desirable.
“I had a nice time, too,” she admitted, smiling sheepishly. “All things considered.” Mac had collected Christie on his own when she’d checked her reflection in the Cherokee’s visor mirror and discovered just how red and whisker burned her chin really was. “It’s a beautiful place. I’d love to go back and take the Ledge Walk sometime.”
“Maybe pick up those brochures?”
“Maybe,” she repeated, smiling again.
Mac’s gaze softened. “How about next weekend? I could make reservations.”
Erin hesitated. Though she desperately wanted to, she couldn’t say yes. She didn’t know what she’d be doing next week…or where she would be. “We’ll see,” she replied, then briefly glanced at the door behind her when Christie squealed that she needed help. “Sounds like she’s having a tough time hanging forty pictures with six magnets. I’d better go in.”
Mac nodded, a message in his eyes that made her heart swell again. Stepping closer, he kissed her gently, no grinding pressure this time. “Sorry about your chin,” he murmured, then smiled. “I’ll take a razor along next time.”
She smiled back, hoping there could be a next time.
Then he descended the steps, too handsome and wonderful and decent and understanding. Because he hadn’t suggested returning to the house after Christie was asleep…perhaps waiting for her to extend the invitation. “Good night, Mac.”
“Good night.” Midway to his SUV, he turned and grinned again. “By the way, if you need anything—anything at all—call me. But don’t use the intercom. Amos will hear.”
Would she spend the rest of her life regretting? Erin wondered later as she tucked Christie in for the night. After fixing herself a cup of tea, she dropped into a kitchen chair and stared at the camera that held her memories, sitting on the oak table. Mac’s table. Mac’s chair, Mac’s home, Mac’s everything. And yet…he was bunking at Amos’s while she and Christie slept here, taking advantage of his generosity.
She was falling in love with him. The realization was bittersweet, but it still sent a sweeping thrill of excitement through her. Had she ever been in love before? She didn’t think so. Nothing she’d ever experienced compared to this mixture of elation at his touch, and futility that she would soon have to give it up.
Still…
Erin jumped up from the table and went to the computer room, charged with the knowledge that she could love again, that she could even be open to love after Charles. She had to tell Lynn. Excitement bubbling in her veins, she booted up the computer and started writing an e-mail.
Dear Lynn
How are you? I miss you! Especially tonight when I have so much to tell you and thank you for, because without your help, I might not have had the courage to leave.
She started typing Christie’s name, then experienced a jolt of paranoia and deleted it, even though the “sender” box on Lynn’s computer screen would indicate that the e-mail was from M. Corbett.
We’re well. I won’t tell you where we are, but we’re safe and happy. Lynn, I’ve met a man. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and dreamed of—strong and good and solid and so downright sexy my lungs shut down every time he looks at me. I know, I know. You think it’s just hormones because of the way you and Al crashed and burned after the wedding, but I swear, this is real.
It was the longest and most cautious e-mail she’d ever written, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She didn’t name the park, but she had to tell Lynn about their trip to the cliff dwellings, and about her embarrassment when the ranger found them together. But mostly she needed to share the unique and boundless joy she’d been feeling since then.
I don’t know where this will go, if anywhere. It’s still dangerous for me to plan a future, especially in light of certain recent events. Also, I don’t know how he feels about me. But Lynn, I want to stay. It feels right here.
All my love and gratitude to you and Jeremy.
Smiling, Erin pushed the send button.
The next morning Erin was crouched beside Christie in the laundry room adjoining the new bath, watching her daughter sort light clothes from darks when Amos came to the doorway.
Christie glanced up happily, her little face wreathed in smiles. “I’n helping, Papa Amos!”
“You sure enough are, honey,” he said with a grin, giving her black ponytail an affectionate tug.
Erin smiled, too. He’d been quiet all morning, obviously stewing about something, and she thought his silence might be about Sophie, who hadn’t yet phoned or come by. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’ important, but…” He worked up a frown and a gruff voice. “I been worryin’ about my store. I think I should take a look at what the boy’s been doin’ with it.” He hesitated, seeming to gauge her reaction, then went on in the same, obviously contrived tone. “There’s some things you gotta do if yer gonna have a decent business. Like puttin’ some items in the front of the store to catch a body’s attention, and buryin’ others in the back till the calendar says it’s time to bring ’em out.”
Erin pushed to her feet, pleased that he was finally ready to swallow his pride and visit his store. Although, over the past few days, she’d noticed that his cane had become more of a decoration than a necessity, so maybe there wouldn’t be much pride to swallow.
“Good idea,” she declared. “After all, Mac isn’t exactly a retailer, is he? Would you like to go tomorrow afternoon? Either before or after your PT session?”
Amos frowned again. “Well, I wouldn’t mind goin’ today. That is, if you can get away from the wash and all.”
“I can do the laundry anytime,” she answered, tamping down her uneasiness at going to town again. This was too important a step for Amos to let fear shut it down. “In fact,” she added, her heart doing a silly stutter step as she pulled the ribbon from her hair, “we can leave right now. Just give me a minute to find Christie’s sneakers.”
It didn’t take long for nearby locals to hear that Amos was back. Soon, at least a half dozen of them had stopped by to join his customers in shaking his hand and telling him how good he looked. Erin hung back, watching from the fringes as Amos beamed from the attention. She still felt vulnerable, particularly when a stranger with brown hair and a mustache came inside and asked Martin for directions to Sedona. But coming here was the right decision. She was even more certain of that when Mac came up from the feed shed, met her eyes, and smiled his gratitude.
When the store had cleared, and Amos and Martin had cozied up to the potbellied stove and the checkerboard, Erin moved closer to watch. Christie had already attached herself to “Papa Amos’s” side, and was happily holding the checkers Amos won from Martin.
She felt Mac’s presence behind her before he touched her. All the signals were there. The tiny prickling of the hair on her arms, the excited tingle…the faintly breathless feeling of falling but knowing she’d land safely.
His hand slipped into hers and lightly squeezed. She squeezed back. And suddenly Erin realized they’d come to a crossroad—and an understanding. Maybe she’d known it since yesterday.
Without a word to the checker players, Mac led her into the cluttered back room, shut the door and drew her into his arms.
His kiss was soft but long and thoroughly knee wobbling, only a hint of searching tongue. When he eased away, he did it slowly, letting their lips cling a little, letting their breaths mingle, keeping their bodies close. “Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” she whispered back, her heart beating fast. “Amos said he wanted to check on your shopkeeping skills today. See if you were doing everything right.”
“I’m glad. But we both know he’s really here to show everyone that he’s getting better.” Then he sighed and tipped his forehead to hers, the reason for that sigh evident when he linked his hands at the back of her waist and brought their lower bodies close.
She could empathize.
“The last thing in the world I want to do is pressure you,” he murmured. “But I need to tell you a secret.”
She waited.
“Every time I see you I want to sink inside you and stay there for a week. You’re all I’ve been able to think about since our trip to the canyon yesterday.”
Warm shivers chased over her limbs. “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” she replied in the same hushed tone.
“And…wanting?”
“Yes.” There was no point in denying the patently obvious. Her stomach was a needy knot, and her breasts felt heavy and full. But they had to talk before they made love. It would only be one night—that’s all she could commit to right now—but he needed to know what he was getting into before they took that step. Still, the prospect frightened her because she didn’t want to look weak in his eyes.
“Christie won’t get a nap today, so she’ll be out like a light by eight-thirty. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Then his lips were on hers again, and Erin’s heart was banging double-time when he finally eased away, fear the last thing on her mind.
“Don’t do any cleaning when you get back,” he groaned when they parted. “Don’t even cook supper. I’ll bring home something from the diner.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re too tired tonight, I’ll be dropping ice cubes into my shorts and looking for asbestos underwear.”
Erin laughed softly, loving him so much it was impossible to grasp. “Supper’s already cooking in the Crock-Pot—and I cleaned on Friday.”
“Hallelujah,” he breathed. “Wait here a minute.”
She watched curiously as he crossed to one of the huge cartons stacked near the cot, then returned with several four-packs of toilet tissue and piled them in her arms.
She raised her brows in question.
“We have to make this look good,” Mac said. “We’ve been in here too long.” Grabbing a full carton of paper towels, he nodded for Erin to precede him through the door.
Martin and Amos were staring from their folding chairs when they emerged, both of them wearing knowing grins.
“Stocking the paper aisle, are we?” Amos called, helping Christie slide off his lap.
“Yep,” Mac replied carelessly, again nodding Erin on ahead of him. “C’mon, Christie,” he added. “You can help, too.”
But when they were out of sight, with Amos and Martin’s low laughter rolling behind them, Mac smiled at her again and mouthed, Tonight.
Charles set his feet, lined the ball up with the cup, then deftly tapped it with his putter. It rolled across his office floor and into the cup, the mechanism inside instantly popping it out and rolling the ball back to him. He smiled. He would crush whoever he was partnered with this afternoon.
His secretary buzzed him.
Frowning, he crossed to his desk and depressed the intercom. “What is it, Marian?”
“Phone call for you, sir. A Mr. Smith. He said he wanted some advice on one of his mutual funds, but I’m not familiar with—”
Charles’s pulse jumped and he was instantly on edge. “Thank you, I’ll take it.” He lifted the receiver to his ear. “Charles Fallon.”
“And you know who I am,” came the reply.
“I believe we had an understanding. You were only to contact me about your funds after hours. Does this mean you’re ready to sell?”
“Not quite. I just t
hought you’d appreciate a call before I took off again.”
“Where are you headed, Mr. Smith?”
“West. Is this phone secure?”
“Just a minute.” Setting the receiver down, Charles walked briskly to the door, opened it and said to his secretary, “I need three copies of the Harrison-White prospectus and an up-to-the-minute position on everything in their portfolio.”
The woman was already moving. “Yes, sir.”
Back in his office, he spoke into the phone. “You said ‘west.’ She’s heading for San Diego, isn’t she? I told you she’d go to her father.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. She’s somewhere in the desert Southwest right now—Arizona, from the description of the landscape she gave her friend, Lynn. According to an e-mail she sent her—”
Charles’s blood pumped. “You can access Lynn’s e-mail remotely?”
Smith expelled a laugh. “Anything’s possible if you have a laptop with a modem and a password—which I lifted from her apartment before I left Chicago. To bring you up to date, your ex-wife’s working as a housekeeper for some old coot who had a stroke. And here’s another news flash. She wasn’t interested in the shop owner she met in Maine, but she’s shacked up with the old coot’s grandson.”
Rage so fierce that it stopped his breath burned up Charles’s throat, scorched his face and eyes. He clenched the receiver. “You’re certain?” he asked hoarsely.
“If not, she’s close. She told her friend this guy’s the real deal.”
Charles’s voice erupted in a rasp. “Kill them both!”
“I was hoping you’d say that. It won’t be a freebie. The price’ll be the same for him. Of course, since they’re together, you won’t have double the expenses.”
“Just do it.”
“My pleasure. Also, you might want to start packing for your flight. It’ll probably be Phoenix—and it’ll probably be soon.”
Run to Me Page 15
