With those words spoken, she was resolved to engage in a few delights the situation offered. Her conscious might bother her later, but the closer she was to Race Donnigan, the more her body overruled common sense. It was Valentine's Day. If some haughty, stupid woman didn't want what amounted to a god-like man, she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to know him. And the word know, as she meant it, took on a decidedly biblical definition.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Two
Race didn't have an apron. Like most guys, he just wiped his hands on his jeans or uniform pants while he was cooking. But he needed to bring her back something she could wear that wouldn't ruin that sexy costume she was sporting. He quickly grabbed a plaid flannel shirt from his closet.
Aeryn smiled at him when he handed her the shirt. She quickly donned it and buttoned up the front. It was far too large, so she did the best she could to make it fit by rolling up the sleeves. As she did so, Race began to pull out various pots and pans. She took a moment to smell the pine scent that clung to the shirt. It made her feel a bit wild. “What can I do to help?"
Getting more comfortable with her presence, Race showed her where the plates and flatware were stored. He kept his gaze on her as she arranged the place settings. “So, you work for a singing-message company? Who on Earth got the idea for the name?"
"We only deliver kiss-off songs. And I don't do it for a real living. I'm just using the job to work my way through school."
Race considered that she was roughly seven years or so younger than he was. She was a little older than the average student, but not old by any other standards. “And what do you study?"
"Horticulture. I'm a senior at Stephen F. Austin. Three more months and I'll have my degree."
"Interesting choice for study. Do you like gardening?” he merrily asked.
"Yeah, I love being outdoors. My dad and I always had a garden of some kind."
Race reached for a bottle of oregano and offered, “I might be able to get a radio message to another ranger if you need to contact your father."
She sadly shook her head, folding some paper napkins to lie beside each plate. “My dad died about five years ago. I had to quit school to look after him, but I'm finally gonna get my degree.” She couldn't imagine why she'd poured that titbit out, but it seemed easy enough to talk to the big man. He had a flash of kindness in his gaze that belied what Margot had told her. He didn't seem like an 'insensitive bastard' at all.
Race stopped what he was doing for the moment. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry into your business."
"No problem. In fact, it's nice to be able to tell someone who had to listen to my singing that I don't actually want to do it for the rest of my life."
He grinned. “Don't suppose I could ask about Margot having sent it?"
She sat down in a nearby chair and considered his request. “We aren't supposed to go into what the clients tell us, but she wasn't very complimentary. There were a few adjectives and verbs used that could curl your hair. You didn't seem too upset by the news in my song, though. I never heard anybody laugh so hard and I've been doing this for a while."
"Her news wasn't a surprise,” Race admitted as he put water on to boil for the pasta. “Margot and I had been dating for a whole three months before she ditched me via your little message. By the way, did you make that song up?"
She sheepishly shrugged. “Yeah, it's part of my job. No offence was meant, I promise. We just do what we're paid to, based on what the clients tell us."
He continued with his cooking.
Aeryn noticed a furrow between his brows. “I really do apologise. I mean, it wasn't personal on my part."
"Oh, I know that. It's just that ... Don't you find that delivering Dear John and Dear Jane messages is kind of cruel?"
She had to nod. “Yeah, but when the recipient gets upset, I just tell them that anyone who'd pay a stranger to send a break-up message isn't worth having in their lives. When it's put that way, folks seem to feel better. And, to be quite honest, the pay is really good. Your ex forked over some kind of dough for me to drive all the way out here to let you have it tonight."
He smirked. “Good. If she couldn't tell me what she had to say to my face, then she should have to pay out the butt for it."
"My employer definitely found an entrepreneurial niche,” Aeryn admitted. “But, like I said, I'll be out of it soon. I've got a job lined up with the Department of Agriculture."
For some reason, that news filled Race with anticipation. “They've got an office in Nacogdoches."
"That's where I'll be working,” she happily acknowledged.
Race made short work of finishing his cooking. The knowledge that Aeryn would be nearby came as something of a pleasant shock. They had their mutual fondness of plants to talk about. Margot hated being in the woods or even discussing anything to do with the subject. He put the food on the table and was happy to see Aeryn dig in. He disliked women who ate like birds and looked like emaciated corpses.
As Aeryn passed him the marinara sauce she decided to stick her nose into a subject she knew wasn't her business. “I've gotta ask something."
He could almost read her mind. “You're probably wondering what Margot Treadwell-Stintington would have in common with me."
"Inquiring minds want to know,” she shot back.
Race happily responded. It didn't matter who knew. “Her old man donated some land to a conservation organisation a few months back. That land adjoins park property. I was invited to go to the donation ceremony as a local official for the Park Service. I met Margot there and we got along well enough for the first few weeks. After that, things started going downhill quick.” He sighed remembering Margo's whining temperament. “Her dad offered me a very lucrative position with one of his marketing firms and even said he'd teach me the ropes. I turned him down, Margot went south on me. Pretty cut and dried."
"That explains it."
"Explains what?” Race asked as he rolled some pasta onto his fork.
"Um, this didn't come from me, but Margot did mention something about you being an underachiever. Apparently, when you didn't go for Daddy's big bucks, she defined that as a critical flaw."
He couldn't care any less what Margot now thought. “And how would you define it?"
Aeryn sipped some coffee he'd poured into a pottery mug for her. “I'd say you were doing what makes you happy. Few people ever get that opportunity."
His gaze met hers for a moment, and then she smilingly continued to eat. With every moment that went by, he was finding more and more to like about this sexy little singing messenger. They continued to converse about topics ranging from his job to what hers would be. It was two hours later when he finally stood and took their plates to the kitchen sink.
She gently pushed his large frame out of the way. “The cook doesn't wash,” she gaily admonished.
Race moved back and let her have her way. It gave him a few moments to watch her, and he could quite easily imagine how this new relationship might continue. When she was finally done with her washing and turned back to him, a gust of wind buffeted the cabin. “I'd better get you some blankets and a pillow. When you're ready to bed down, you've got the choice of the bedroom or the sofa."
She walked back into the neat little living room with all the outdoor décor lying about on tables and tacked to walls. “If you don't mind, I'll take the sofa. You'd never fit on it."
He grinned. “Thanks. I was hoping you would."
"It's next to the fireplace anyhow and it's gonna be a cold night.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, already feeling the icy air creeping into the room. “Could I use your bathroom?"
"Oh, sure, of course,” he blurted out, ashamed that he hadn't offered earlier. “It's down the hall on the left. There are extra towels in the cupboard and even a spare toothbrush up there someplace."
Aeryn made her way there, conscious of the fact that he was watching her. Normally, she wouldn't hav
e wanted a shower or to engage in any of the other nightly regimens of habit. At least, not when in a stranger's home and under these circumstances. But she still had a plan in mind and wanted to look her best.
Once she was out of the living room, Race quickly gathered blankets and a pillow from a hall closet. Luckily, he had spares of most items as some of the rangers occasionally stayed over after a late night of duty. But he didn't exactly have the accoutrement to make a woman feel welcome. Still, Aeryn seemed to be taking everything in friendly stride. He appreciated the difference between her behaviour and Margot's. His former lover used to bitch about every single damned thing in the cabin. For her, it was too small, too masculine and too cold. All Aeryn had done was laugh and converse normally. He'd missed that kind of feminine attention in his life. What might it be like to encourage the little messenger into coming back here under different circumstances? Her school was only a short distance away, her future occupation even closer. All kinds of scenarios entered his mind. He was still deep in the middle of a daydream when she slowly walked back into the room wearing his plaid shirt; her dress was over her arm. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. Tendrils of it were damp from where she'd probably piled it up while showering. The imaginary picture of her soaping herself almost had him melting into the carpet.
She carelessly tossed her gaudy Valentine costume over the back of a chair. “You know, the men at my job have to wear red T-shirts with pink hearts plastered all over them. It's ridiculous, but our boss insists. You should see the Leprechaun costumes on St. Pat's.” She visibly shuddered.
Race found himself simultaneously laughing and staring at her long, perfect legs. What she had on certainly covered nearly as much as the dress, but it was his shirt. Something about her wearing it had him wallowing in a kind of possessive Neanderthal-like feeling that felt both strange and empowering.
"I'll put some more wood on the fire,” he benignly told her.
Aeryn could tell that wearing his shirt rattled him. He'd let his gaze slide up and down her body, and wasn't trying to hide his virile interest. The glances he kept casting her way were hot and deliberate. It was clear, however, that he'd behave the gentleman to the last. Getting over all that nobility was going to take some finesse.
When Race could no longer delay his departure for the night, he stood and murmured some barely audible sentence about hitting the sack. But Aeryn stopped him, just as he'd prayed she would.
"Um, I was wondering if you might not like to stick around to talk some more? You don't have to go to work early, do you?"
Some primal sense of eagerness rose within him. He nodded towards his radio equipment on a desk in the corner. “Unless there's an emergency and I get called out over the radio, I'll be sticking pretty close to the cabin. I've been trying to get my boss to spring for a satellite phone, but you know the government. If a politician doesn't need it, we certainly don't."
She moved closer, clasped her hands behind her back and gazed up at him, aware that the buttons she'd left open on the shirt would show a great deal more cleavage than her costume had. “So, you wouldn't mind losing some sleep if we sort of just hung out?"
She was near enough to him that the front of the flannel shirt brushed against his chest. He wished with all his heart that he could have felt it against bare skin, but that might be a bit too damned bold on such short acquaintance. Of course, Margot had invited him to bed the first night they'd met, and he'd gone willingly. There was nothing wrong with a woman knowing what she wanted as far as he was concerned. Men had done the very same thing for thousands of years without most folks concerning themselves over that tradition. But Aeryn hadn't indicated she was amenable to any such action as yet. If she gave him the first sign, however, he'd be willing to keep her warm for the night. There was an attraction between them that was growing by the moment. He could feel it. This engaging sensation hadn't ever existed between him and Margot. And however unfair it was to compare the women, he couldn't help doing so. His mind was seeing his former lover as a cold, exotic blossom that needed a lot of special attention. Aeryn seemed like a wild flower in a meadow. She was every bit as beautiful, but some instinct told him she was stronger. And he wondered what kind of sexual escapades might result from that extra inner strength.
She sat down on the sofa, pulled a blanket around her shoulders and deliberately crossed her legs. The fabric of his shirt rode up to a dangerously high spot on her thighs. “Why don't you get more comfortable, kick your boots off? It's likely to be a long night. Please don't do anything differently just because I'm here,” she happily advised.
The blatant message in her eyes was every bit as obvious as that silly song she'd sung earlier in the evening. But he wanted a very clear signal. He unlaced his boots, removed them and his socks. Then he settled himself on the sofa next to her. He could feel her warmth. A long strand of her straight hair brushed against his right shoulder as she flung it aside. He could smell his woodsy, masculine soap on her skin. On her, the fragrance took on a new depth. It wasn't manly at all, but exceedingly feminine.
She leaned closer to him. “So, what made you choose this profession?"
"My father is a ranger up in Colorado. My whole family lives up there. I guess it's in my blood.” He shrugged. “I hate being closed in and cities are okay to visit, but I'd rather be out in the woods."
Aeryn coyly ducked her head in agreement. “That's the way I feel, too. My family is gone now, but my dad's garden just brought out a nature thing in me. You know what I mean?"
He turned towards her and totally understood. There wasn't any way to articulate what she was trying to say. He'd never found any as yet, but he knew where she was coming from. “Do you like camping?"
"Oh yeah ... and stargazing. I've got a telescope. Maybe I could bring it out some time. Without any ambient light from the town, we could probably get a really clear look at some heavenly bodies."
Though that idea captured his attention, the only real heavenly body he wanted to look at for now was hers. He simply stared down into her lovely eyes, wanting for her to shoot him some obvious sign that the intimate vibes he was experiencing weren't going to be wasted. Almost on cue, that offering came.
She put one hand on his shoulder, unfolded her legs and knelt on the floor next to him. “So, how did you get a name like Race?"
"Uh, it's my grandparents’ surname. My parents thought that calling me that was a good idea at the time."
"Well, it is. It's unusual. I like it. And I think I like you, Race Donnigan. Quite a lot in fact."
Her gentle smile had him almost dissolving. Just do it. Kiss me, he silently begged.
Aeryn could almost feel his desire. There was a clear invitation in his eyes. She didn't want to play around anymore. The adolescent show of legs and cleavage was fine for a few minutes. Now she was feeling the heat of him next to her. She wanted to bridge the gap left between them. He knew it was coming. She could see it in his eyes.
When she reached up, slid one hand onto his shoulder and around his neck, Race suddenly went hard. He was already erect and had been for some time, but this was a rock-solid condition that was atypical. She pushed herself up, leaned into him and placed a very soft kiss on his right cheek. He slid his hands up her ribcage and heard her intake of breath as he did so. “Maybe we could change the sleeping arrangements,” he blithely suggested.
"Damn, I thought you'd never ask,” she merrily replied, then began to unbutton his shirt. She was anxious to see if that megalithic, broad chest was as muscular as she believed.
Race tried to control the depth of his breathing, but every cell in his body was now alive with sensation. He helped her when she unbuttoned his uniform shirt, stripped it off and then the undershirt beneath.
"Wow! You like to work out, don't you?” she gasped.
The pleasure in her eyes was worth every minute he spent on the back porch lifting weights. As she ran her hands over his bare chest, he could no longer wait to hold her. H
e pulled her against his body, slanted his mouth over hers and began a slow, kissing assault. Her tongue met his and he opened his mouth further. She moaned softly just as he did. All the while her soft hands kept tracing the muscle of his chest, then his back and shoulders. The intimate contact went on and on until he couldn't stand it. Running his hands over her shirted body just wasn't good enough. Skin-to-skin contact was the only thing that would remotely satisfy his building need.
She broke the kiss and slowly stood.
He also stood and watched as she very slowly unbuttoned the plaid shirt he'd lent her.
"What do you want to see first?"
"Your back,” he told her. “Turn your back to me, so I can see the front of you last."
Aeryn readily did as he requested. She turned around and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. The object was to have it hanging down between her shoulder blades as she gradually slid the soft shirt from her body, and then let it slide down her hips to the floor.
Race moved against her. He slid his hands over all the soft skin she presented, delighted by the high, rounded little butt displayed. “You've got a sweet, tight body."
"Funny, that's the same thing I've been thinking about you."
He backed away just a couple of feet. “Now, turn around."
Aeryn did. She lifted one hand and ran it through her hair as she faced him. Again, she did this for the effect. This time, her hair was meant to lift and fall down around her body.
Dragging in deep gasps of air now, he let his gaze slide over her body from top to bottom. Every curve was explicitly perfect and firm. Her breasts were high, full and very plump. The brown curls between her thighs looked soft and inviting. “Play for me,” he whispered.
She wasn't sure exactly what he had in mind, but she lifted both hands and pressed her breasts together thumbing her nipples and closing her eyes in delight. She pretended her hands were his and knew he was only moments away from touching her. There was no clothing on her body now. Even her g-string had been removed in the bathroom as she typically slept in the nude.
Pleasing the Messenger Page 2
