Nelson In Command (The McKade Brothers #2)

by Marin Thomas

  “You have apple pie in your hair.” His eyes twinkled.

  “What?”

  “Here.” He tugged a strand of hair from her ponytail, then held the glob of pie filling in front of her nose.

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” She slapped his hand, sending the pie crumb sailing through the air. “You’re distracting me.”

  His face sobered. “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough to understand you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “You told me I could help you.”

  “Have you been drinking?” She leaned forward and sniffed his mouth—minty. He’d probably chewed a stick of gum before entering the bank.

  “No, but I could sure as hell use a drink now.” He rubbed his forehead. “The reason I tried to secure a loan is that you gave me permission to help you.”

  “When?”

  “The day Bones kicked you in the leg.”

  Ellen’s mind raced as she struggled to recall their conversation. She’d been exhausted and injured—who knows what she’d blabbed.

  “You agreed I could take over.”

  “I assumed you were referring to milking the cows for a few days while my leg healed. I didn’t realize you intended to run my life.”

  His eyes flashed with what…hurt? She felt bad she had yelled at him. “Whatever I said, I didn’t mean. Even if you could talk Milton into loaning me money, I wouldn’t accept a cent from him. During high school I refused to date him, so when I ended up pregnant, he spread rumors that I’d intended to trap Buck into marriage. The guy’s a jerk.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop interfering, Nelson. I hired you to watch Seth and do a few chores. You were supposed to make my life easier, not more difficult.”

  “What you don’t understand, Ellen, is that something has to give or you’ll lose the farm.”

  The hard note in his voice convinced her she could no longer ignore her problems and hope a miracle dropped from the sky and solved her cash-flow troubles. A sob clogged her throat, making it painful to swallow. “How much giving do I have to do?”

  Nelson must have noticed her distress, because he cupped her cheek and rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth across her skin in a comforting rhythm. “I’m not positive, but I promise I’ll find a way for you to keep the farm.”

  She yearned to believe him. Desperately ached to believe. “I have to return to the diner before Flo fires me.” She stepped sideways, then paused. “Where’s Seth?” In all the excitement she’d forgotten her son wasn’t with Nelson.

  “I dropped him off at Brad’s house. He’s staying the night, then I’m treating the boys to the county fair tomorrow. I was hoping you’d come along.”

  Her son must have mentioned she didn’t have the money to go this year. Her first instinct was to decline, but it had been forever since she’d spent a day having fun with Seth. His happiness was worth more than her pride. “I’d love to tag along.”

  “Good. I’ll pick up a pizza for dinner. Drive carefully.”

  Pizza, Nelson and no Seth. The possibilities were endless.

  “SUPPER’S ALMOST READY.” Ellen’s announcement greeted Nelson as he walked through the front door, carrying a clean set of clothes and his shaving kit. He slipped off his work boots and set them on the rug. When he glanced up, Ellen stood in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. Something inside his chest caught at the delicate smile curving her lips.

  He was thirty-seven years old. Most men his age were married. For a moment, he envisioned entering his apartment and finding Ellen waiting. The notion shook him. He admitted he was a miserable failure at juggling a career and a relationship. He might believe Ellen was the one woman who could cure him of his 24-7 work ethic. But not for long. Deep in his gut, he believed his drive to succeed would demand he stay longer at the office, work weekends and travel on business trips more often. It wouldn’t be fair to Ellen or Seth. But a guy could dream….

  “Do you mind if I take a shower first?” he asked.

  She’d already showered. Tendrils of damp hair curled around her face and the remaining strands were pinned to the top of her head with a big clip. He mentally chastised himself for thinking he could smell her fruit-scented shampoo over the spicy smells of the pizza warming in the oven.

  “If you make it quick,” she murmured.

  Her words barely registered. His attention was glued to her pale lavender tank top, which accentuated the perfect roundness of her small breasts. His gaze roamed lower, checking out her frayed denim cutoffs. Her legs were gorgeous—toned and firm. The bruising on her thigh had faded to a yellow-green and was barely noticeable.

  A sudden gust of heat slapped his body, and it wasn’t from the hot wind blowing through the living room window but from the realization that Seth was spending the night at his friend’s, leaving him and Ellen alone in the house.

  “I’ll hurry,” he mumbled, then forced his gaze from her sexy little body and hustled down the hallway. After he entered the bathroom, he locked the door, not sure if he intended to keep himself locked in or Ellen locked out. He showered and shaved in record time, put on a pair of khaki shorts and a golf shirt, then slipped on his sandals and returned to the kitchen just as Ellen carried a load of his clean laundry in from the back porch.

  “You didn’t have to wash my clothes.” He reached for the pile. “But I appreciate it just the same.”

  “You’ve been here over a month and you haven’t used the washing machine. Exactly how many pairs of underwear do you own?”

  Ellen ought to know if she rummaged through the two large duffel bags of dirty laundry he stored in his room in the barn. “I stocked up before I left Chicago.”

  “In the pantry you’ll find the bottle of red wine someone sent me for Christmas.” She pulled the pizza from the oven.

  He placed the clothes on the living-room couch, then searched the pantry. He hadn’t had a glass of good wine since he’d arrived at the farm. According to the label on the bottle, he’d have to wait until he went back to Chicago to have one.

  In a matter of minutes, Ellen had the table set, the pizza cut and a salad ready. He filled the wineglasses, then held out a chair for Ellen.

  Her gaze avoided his face when she thanked him. Was Ellen contemplating the same thing—that they were alone tonight? They ate in silence for a few minutes, their eyes occasionally meeting, then skirting away.

  “I can’t stand this.” Ellen tossed her napkin on the table, shoved her chair back and stood. Face flushed, she wrung her hands, shifting from one foot to the other.

  Careful to maintain a neutral expression, he asked, “Can’t stand what?”

  “This—” she flung her hand through the air “—whatever is happening between us.”

  He knew exactly the whatever Ellen referred to—the subtle brushes against one another when they milked the cows together. The hungry stares she sent his way when she assumed he wasn’t aware. The heated glances he shot right back at her when she wasn’t paying attention.

  He set his fork on the plate and left his chair. Her eyes widened a fraction as he drew near. When mere inches separated them, he lowered his head and whispered, “You mean this whatever?” He brushed his mouth across hers. Slowly. Thoroughly.

  “Mmm.”

  “Are we on the same page, here?” He captured her lips in another searing kiss.

  “I think so,” she murmured against his mouth.

  As if someone had thrown a cooler of cold Gatorade over his head, the word think stopped him cold. “You’re not sure?”

  “It’s been a long time. I…I…”

  He pressed a finger to her mouth. “It’s been a while for me, too.”

  “Nelson, I’m not like those city women you’ve…you’ve…”

  “You better not be.” He slipped the clip from her hair and spread the damp strands across her shoulder. “So…?”

  “So…?” She smiled.

  “
Will you let this city boy make out with you in the hayloft?”

  Chapter Ten

  “You’re not serious, are you?” Ellen asked, sure Nelson was joking. No one with an ounce of sense would make love on dusty, insect-ridden, scratchy hay.

  “Don’t farm girls prefer the barn to a bed?” Grinning, Nelson smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, and she shivered at the casual caress.

  Maybe it was her imagination, but since Bones had kicked her in the leg, it sure seemed that Nelson touched her more often. Little touches—grabbing her elbow to steady her. Clasping her hand for no good reason she could figure out. Setting his palm against her lower back as he held the door open for her. Playfully yanking her ponytail.

  She didn’t want their first time to be in the hayloft. The prospect of making love with Nelson, a man she was positive had a lot more experience than she did with the act, was daunting enough on clean cotton sheets. Her palms itched—a sign of nerves. Maybe the timing is off.

  Are you crazy? Shut down your analytical brain, Ellen. Nelson—gorgeous, nice, considerate, bossy, demanding, pushy Nelson—is right here in front of you, ready and willing to ensure your wildest dreams come true.

  His mouth inched nearer. “Second thoughts?”

  At least a thousand. “None.” His kisses were the stuff of fantasies, the right amount of pressure and tongue to tantalize, tease and excite.

  An image of Buck swept through her mind, but she blocked it out, refusing to feel any guilt that she enjoyed Nelson’s kisses more. Nelson will give you a night to remember. A memory to replay during the long, cold winter when you lie alone in bed. A memory was more than Buck had ever given her.

  Be careful, Ellen. Memories are good, but Nelson has the power to destroy your heart. A power Buck had never possessed in all the years they’d been married. She rested her hand against Nelson’s chest, and immediately he broke the kiss, concern darkening his brown eyes.

  He cupped her face. “Don’t be afraid, Ellen. I promise you this isn’t a one-night stand.” He nuzzled her forehead. “You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. One moment you frustrate the hell out of me—the next you make me laugh.”

  “You sure know how to woo a gal.”

  “Other women have made me smile here.” He touched her finger to a corner of his mouth. “But you’re the first woman who’s ever made me smile here,” he assured her, dragging her hand to his heart.

  “Well, now. Those are better wooing words.” Ellen swore her heart pounded in rhythm with Nelson’s, which was banging beneath her palm.

  “I can’t promise. My job is in Chicago and—” he swallowed hard “—yours is here.”

  She caressed his clean-shaven jaw. “I understand, but—”

  “You don’t want to get hurt,” he finished, then hugged her.

  She wondered at the probability of Nelson falling in love with her. Could a man like him find something in her to love? Something worth taking a chance on? She nestled her head under his chin.

  “The one thing I’m sure about, Ellen, is my desire to make love to you. To hold you in my arms…feel your skin against mine…kiss you all over.”

  Quit analyzing.

  Stop second-guessing.

  Just feel.

  There will never be another Nelson. Grab what he’s offering—real, honest-to-goodness passion between a man and woman. Wallow in it. Soak up every last drop of ecstasy. Then, when it’s time, send him off with a wave and a smile.

  She wiggled from his grasp, clasped his hand and led the way to her bedroom. “Trust me, you’d rather have a mattress under you than hay.”

  “Speaking from experience…?”

  “Maybe,” Ellen teased.

  He grinned. “Okay. No hayloft. But I’m picking the next place.”

  A tiny thrill raced through her at the notion that he intended to make love to her again. And maybe again. Edgy, she tugged her hand free and padded across the room to the bed. He stayed in the doorway, a shoulder propped against the frame, his gaze riveted on the bed. Not her.

  Understanding dawned. “I never slept with Buck in here.”

  He shuddered at her pronouncement. Nelson amazed her. That it would bother him to love her on the same bed another man had slept in caused her heart to flip crazily. “This was my parents’ room. After they died, Seth moved in here. He was so excited he didn’t have to sleep on the couch anymore.” She smiled at the memory. “When Buck died, Seth and I switched rooms.” Then I was the excited one…giving up the bed, along with the memories of sleeping with her husband.

  Nelson’s solemn brown-eyed stare unnerved Ellen. Had she said too much? Wrecked the mood? After a long pause he cleared his throat. “You’ve lived a very different life than I have.”

  She didn’t want his pity. Her life hadn’t been all bad. “We had some fun times packed in this house like sardines.” The comment caused him to smile.

  He lifted a hand. Beckoned her. He could ask almost anything and she’d comply. She shuffled across the floor and threaded her fingers through his.

  “I’m glad you are who you are, Ellen Tanner.” His serious expression tempted her to believe their fairy-tale evening would evolve into forever. But she acknowledged it wouldn’t.

  Then he kissed her. As far as kisses went, Nelson’s were to die for. The room spun. Tilted. Wavered until she was forced to shut her eyes and clasp his shoulders to keep from tumbling to the floor.

  So this is what it feels like to be desired. Coveted. Maybe even loved a little.

  Something inside her shifted. Broke loose. A hunger. A yearning to shut the door on reality. A desire to put herself first and take, take, take until she felt sated, fat with happiness—even if the happiness expired with tomorrow’s sunrise.

  Farmers didn’t fantasize. Ellen was a realist and understood that her relationship with Nelson had nowhere to go but across the room to the bed. So be it. She deserved a taste of heaven. A moment of brilliance in her otherwise dull existence.

  Her breath left her lungs in a loud swoosh when he swooped her up into his arms and deposited her on the mattress. His gaze never leaving her face, he removed his shirt, then his shorts and sandals. Tonight he wore silk boxers. Red. She caressed the hem of the leg opening. Slipped her fingertip under the material and stroked his thigh.

  Growling, he sprawled atop her, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. “I dream about you.”

  The air around her thickened. She labored to catch her breath. “You do?”

  “At night, I close my eyes and the scent of you fills my head.” He held her hand in front of his face and studied the calluses and short, blunt nails. “I fantasize about what these hardworking hands would feel like against my skin.” He held her fingers to his bare chest and groaned.

  Surprised her less-than-beautiful hands brought him pleasure, she traced the ridges and planes of his torso. Scraped her nails through the light dusting of hair across his pectoral muscles. When she trailed a finger down his stomach to the waistband of his boxers, he sucked in a quick breath, then lowered his head and kissed her.

  A man of many talents, he’d worked her clothes off and his boxers with their mouths still fused. Left in nothing but her birthday suit, she lay vulnerable and exposed to his admiring gaze.

  She wasn’t ashamed of her body. After all, she was a farmer and exercise was part of her everyday existence. Her muscles were toned and firm and she didn’t carry an ounce of extra fat anywhere. But she wasn’t perfect. Seth had been a large baby and the pregnancy had left her belly covered in silver scars. Automatically, she tried to hide them, but Nelson captured her wrist.

  “Don’t, Ellen. You’re a beautiful woman and a wonderful mother.” He traced one of the feathery lines with his fingertip, leaving a path of fire in its wake. “Seth is lucky to have you.”

  Shoving her hands into his thick, unruly hair, she tugged his head closer. “Let’s not discuss Seth.” This time she kissed him.

  Swept up in a vortex of v
ivid color and sensation, she gave herself over to Nelson’s expertise. He held her, caressed her, cherished her as if her body were a temple to be worshiped. His mouth was everywhere—her neck, her shoulder, her belly and oh…! He smothered her, devoured her, relished her.

  “Ellen.” Someone called her name. “Ellen.” She ignored it, instead focusing on the incredible sensation of heat escalating through her body. “Ellen.” Annoyed, she opened her eyes and frowned at Nelson’s face, hovering above hers.

  “Do we need protection?”

  When his question finally sank in, she blushed. “I went off the pill over a year ago.”

  “Not to worry.” He leaned across her body, flattening her breasts with his chest, and snagged his shorts off the floor. After rummaging through a pocket, he removed a foil package and held it in the air like a victory trophy.

  Smoothing a hand down his bare buttocks, she purred, “Do you always carry a condom in your pocket?”

  “Only when I’m feeling lucky.” He thrust his erection against her stomach.

  “How often do you feel lucky?” She meant it as a joke but she hoped he didn’t do one-night stands often.

  His eyes softened. “I haven’t felt lucky in a long, long time.”

  “I’m glad.” She sighed into his neck, curled her feet over his calves and raised her breasts, silently begging. His mouth settled over a nipple, drawing an unlady-like moan from her. There was something deeply intimate about a man’s mouth on a woman’s breast.

  Nelson was a master at playing her body, at wringing responses she was sure would mortify her in the morning when her brain cleared and she could think again.

  Arms and legs tangled, forming a slippery knot upon the sheets. She and Nelson shifted position from top to bottom to side and back to top. She would never have guessed in-control-of-everything Nelson was such an out-of-control and enthusiastic lover. “No more…” she whined after her second trip to the stars.

  “One more time, angel.” His kiss—tender and sweet—made her almost believe she was an angel.

  He captured her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside. He cupped her breast, cherished the small mound with his mouth, drawing an embarrassing whimper from her, followed by a lusty sigh when he suckled her nipple.