by Joanne Rock
Her throat burned a little at his sweet words. And gave her the courage to strip off her gray T-shirt, revealing her pink satin bra, a splurge she’d made with the commission check to accommodate her newly generous breasts.
“Slowly,” he reminded her, his gaze fixed on her body, his voice rougher than it was a moment before. “I have a fondness for curves.”
A smile pulled at her lips. She raised up on her knees again, confidence renewed. She flicked open the clasp on the bra, letting the cups part so she could shrug off the straps.
“So beautiful.” The whispered reverence inflamed her skin just before he kissed one tight peak. Chased a circle around the center with his tongue.
Her body ached for him with a new, heightened need. Heat pooled between her thighs and she pressed herself tighter to him, wanting more.
She let her hands roam all over him, tracing the ridges of muscle and exploring the dips and hollows that came with them. She felt the hiss of breath between his teeth as he switched from one breast to the other, drawing on her harder, taking her fully into his mouth.
Allowing her hands to wander lower, she skimmed the intriguing planes of his abs before she ran into his belt. With impatient fingers, she made quick work of the buckle, the hook, the zipper.
And stroked a touch up the proud, thrusting length of him.
The guttural sound he made echoed the rough want she was feeling. She needed him inside her. Moving with her. Filling her.
But he clamped her hand in his, halting her touch before she peeled away his boxers.
“It’s been a long time for me.” His green eyes were stark with need. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
She kissed his cheek. Licked along his lower lip. “Me, too.”
“Give me a minute.” He slid off the bed and stepped out his clothes, leaving him gloriously naked.
With all the lights on in her room, she could see every perfect inch of him as he retreated into another room, returning a few moments later with a condom in hand.
At least, she thought that’s what he flashed at her when he entered the room, but she was still plenty distracted by the sight of him naked. Never taking her eyes off him, she stood to let her undone skirt fall on the ground. Then, tucking her thumbs in the waistband of her pink satin bikini underwear, she lowered those, too.
“You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Abigail.” He left the condom on the bed and cupped the back of her neck, hauling her close to kiss her. Then lowered her ever so gently to the bed.
He stretched out on top of her, the warm brush of hair on his leg a tickle against her smooth one. Her breasts molded to his chest. His erection a hot, silken weight pressing between her thighs.
He kissed her then, and things got serious. Awed. Humbled. Reverent. Wordlessly, she rolled on top of him, wanting to see him better. Needing to take ownership of this moment. This incredible night.
His thigh parted hers, a welcome pressure and heat to fill the ache that grew worse by the second. She fumbled with the condom, ready for everything.
She whispered his name, needing him now. He took the packet and finished opening it, sheathing himself while she kissed his chest. Lower.
“Abby.” He breathed the nickname into her hair as he hauled her up his body again.
Then he came inside her, inch by inch, until her eyes fluttered closed against the bliss of it. She felt the slick perfection of it all the way to her toes. Her head lolled forward, resting on his chest for a long moment until she gathered herself. Moved her hips.
His groan of satisfaction spread through her, vibrating inside her. This time, when he rolled her to her back, she let him, ready to relinquish that control since hers was ready to shatter. She was close to release, and they’d only just started, her body starved for all that he could do to her. For her. With her.
She knew once with Vaughn would never be enough.
Meeting his green gaze, she watched him moving over her. Mesmerized.
Once, he leaned down to whisper her name in her ear, reaching between their bodies to pluck gently at the tender core of her. She flew apart instantly, wave after wave of pleasure breaking over her, drowning her in the sweetest release.
In the middle of it, she opened her eyes just enough to see him watching her. She found just enough wherewithal to lift her hips, taking him deeper. And in that moment, his body tensed. Spasmed. His own completion rocked him as every muscle went rigid.
They held each other for long moments afterward. At some point, he’d pulled one of the spare blankets over them while the overhead fan turned lazily above. At the foot of the bed, Ruby still snoozed, the occasional dog snuffle and sigh a reminder of her presence.
Abigail felt a beautiful languidness in her limbs. She lay her head on Vaughn’s chest after they’d disentangled themselves. She hoped he wouldn’t regret this night together. She understood he wasn’t ready for a relationship.
Knew that he struggled to make emotional connections because of the disorder he battled. Of course it would be daunting for him to be involved right now.
And yet, a little part of her couldn’t help thinking they’d taken a step forward together in spite of everything. He’d admitted he hadn’t been with anyone else in a long time, making her think this had been special for him, too.
As exhaustion pulled her toward sleep after an eventful day, Abigail told herself not to read too much into what had just happened. She had only just begun to truly heal from her sister’s death. From the devastation of learning her baby’s father was an imposter, a thief and a possible threat to her.
She couldn’t afford another hit this year.
Where Vaughn was concerned, hope might be a dangerous emotion.
Seven
Vaughn lay awake in the spare bedroom beside Abigail well past midnight, hating to leave her side too soon after the way the father of her child had checked out on her.
He liked being here, brushing touches over her hair while she slept. Seeing a hint of a smile curve her lips, welcoming his touch.
But falling asleep beside her meant the possibility of nightmares, and he didn’t want to freak her out if that happened. Granted, the nightmares had decreased since Ruby came along. The dog was aces when it came to sensing trouble at night. She nuzzled his arm or his face, whimpering until he awoke. She usually alerted him before things took a turn for the terrifying. But if Ruby knew to rouse him, that was because he was already making noise or starting to wrestle the blankets. He’d disturb Abigail for sure.
So he laid there, contemplating his next move.
Sex had been amazing. Far more than a simple release, their time together had rocked him. He hadn’t expected to be so thoroughly captivated by her. Or touched by the fact that she’d chosen him to help her erase her demons. That alone had been an unanticipated gift.
As for all the rest? He was still blown away hours later.
Tomorrow, he would stay by her side while she gave a statement to the police. He planned to place another call to Will Sanders to give the guy an update since—if their roles were reversed—Vaughn sure as hell would want to know about Rich fighting with Jason Phillips in his office. The information had to be significant.
And the more he thought about it, bad news for Jason. The last guy to get on the wrong side of Rich was Will himself. Will had paid for that by having his identity—and months of his life—stolen from him. Considering no one could reach Jason to speak with him personally, that didn’t bode well for him.
Vaughn also wanted to find some skilled help for Abigail to work on the sculpture so she didn’t exhaust herself during her pregnancy. He’d already asked Micah to meet them at her place in the morning. Abigail wanted to stop by her house before they continued to the hospital, and Vaughn figured Micah could either use the pickup to haul her extra woo
d pieces to the hospital, or he could help dig the ditch around her house to facilitate the alarm system she needed.
Actually, now that he thought about it, Micah better bring Brandon with him to get everything done. Vaughn scheduled a text to hit their phones tomorrow morning at six so they could plan their workday accordingly.
But if he wanted any sleep tonight for a full day ahead, he needed to retreat to his own room, behind a closed door. Sliding out of bed, Vaughn figured he would simply set an alarm to wake early and start breakfast. Maybe Abigail would never notice he’d left her side.
Calling softly to Ruby, he headed toward the door. He wasn’t going to scare a pregnant woman with the hell that played out behind his closed eyes on a nightly basis. Which already had him wondering, how long would she be content to spend time with a shell of a man who had so little of himself to give?
* * *
After she’d given a statement to police the next morning, Abigail rode in the passenger seat of Vaughn’s truck on the way to the hospital.
They were stopping at her house first, to pick up a few extra tools she needed and so she could change into something more work appropriate than the yoga pants and T-shirt she kept in her gym bag.
Despite the incredible night with Vaughn—a night she refused to regret—she had awoken alone. The sheets were cold on his side of the bed, too, so it wasn’t as though he’d been beside her recently. She’d smelled breakfast cooking, however, so that had been thoughtful of him. But the aftermath of their intimacy had been awkward. She felt him pulling back. And while she wasn’t surprised, given what she knew about him and his past, she couldn’t deny feeling the sting of his retreat.
Plucking at her shirt, she tried not to think about the events of the past day with Vaughn. The morning was already relentlessly hot, the humidity thick and heavy just outside the air-conditioning of his truck. Awareness of the man beside her—and the nerve-racking mess of her past—made her skin burn all the more.
“Officer Grant made it sound like I would be questioned again about the fight I witnessed, didn’t he?” She thought back to the early morning visit from Vaughn’s friend in the Royal Police Department, a higher-ranking police official who rode over to the ranch along with a uniformed officer.
“With the FBI involved, they must be looking at a lot of different facets of crimes committed,” Vaughn noted, his phone vibrating with incoming messages while they sat at a traffic light.
Her stomach cramped in visceral response to his words. How was it possible that she’d been involved with a man wanted for questioning by both of those federal agencies? Her life had turned strange and scary in the past few months, and she couldn’t deny that she felt grateful for Vaughn sitting beside her now. And this morning, too, while she gave her statement to his police-officer friend.
She knew she couldn’t depend on the handsome doc long-term, but for now, she distracted herself by glancing over at him. He wore a light gray button-down this morning along with gray dress pants and a pair of dark leather loafers with subtle stitch work on the toes that looked handmade.
She’d noticed that about his home, too. He must support private craftsmen with his purchases because he didn’t own the kind of expensive items that filled high-end stores. She’d looked over the Aztec blankets in her room this morning—when she’d awoken alone—and saw they were sewn by hand and not a machine. They were high quality, of course. But definitely crafted by artisans.
That was different from the way Will—that is, Rich Lowell—had thrown money around. He used it to show his status, flashing cash as if there was an unending supply. Vaughn, on the other hand, while clearly well-off through his family’s wealth above and beyond his thriving practice, seemed to understand that the culture was richer for spending money on the arts. Those funds supported people who wanted to beautify and better the world, people who protected the old ways of doing things so they wouldn’t be forgotten in the rush to mechanize and outsource everything.
“I think you’ll be telling the story again,” Vaughn agreed as they neared downtown. His shirt stretched around his broad shoulders and muscular upper arms. The cuffs were still rolled from when he’d made them breakfast—huevos rancheros with Tex-Mex flair. “If not to the FBI, then Will’s private investigator might want to hear it.”
She sighed. As nice as it had been to awaken to breakfast already made for her, she would have preferred to feel his arms around her instead.
“I just hope they find Rich soon.” She didn’t want these worries hanging over her head when her baby was born.
“They will.” He sounded so certain. “Investigators are throwing too much firepower at this for it to drag out.” He rolled to a stop sign and glanced over at her. “But in the meantime, I’d like to give you—and your child—a gift that should help you feel more secure at home.”
She frowned as he turned town her street. At the far end, in front of her bungalow, she recognized the older model pickup truck that his workers had driven over before. It sat in her driveway now.
“I don’t understand.” She straightened in her seat, trying to see what Vaughn had in mind. “You aren’t responsible for us, Vaughn. There’s no need—”
“I know that. I want to help. Consider it an early baby-shower gift.” He slowed to a stop behind the red Ford. “At first, I asked Micah and Brandon to meet us here in case you needed help bringing raw material to the hospital.” He put his own pickup in Park and switched off the engine while both of his workers hopped out of their vehicle. “But then, I thought it would be a good idea for them to bring some shovels so they could lay the wire for a home security system I’m having installed.”
He’d arranged all of that? Stunned, it took her a moment to reply.
“That’s far too generous. I can’t let you do that.” Being independent meant making wise financial decisions on a budget. She could put it on an installment plan.
“You can pay the monitoring fee.” He offered that like it was a compromise. “But for today, we’ll at least get you up and running so you can sleep here tonight.”
Outside on her lawn, she could see the brothers taking measurements of her front yard, stretching a metal tape between them. She let Vaughn’s words roll around her brain, trying not to overreact to the implication that she wouldn’t be welcome at Vaughn’s house on a regular basis. Was she reading too much into it?
Or was that an astute assessment based on how he’d left her bed after their night together?
“In that case, because I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you for a second night in a row, I gratefully accept.” She turned to lever open the passenger door, unwilling to wait for him.
“Abby, wait—”
She charged into the house to start her day, knowing Vaughn was due at the hospital soon. She had a lot of supplies to gather. Materials he would arrange to transport for her. He remained charming and accommodating. A tender lover and a thoughtful friend.
He was on track to do everything right in making her heart yearn for him. Right up until the moment when he pulled away because he wasn’t ready for a relationship.
Especially not a whole family.
She knew all of those things. Had understood them going into last night. It wasn’t fair to take her disappointment out on Vaughn, when it was her own fault for letting her guard down around him.
But that didn’t stop a whole lot of hurt from flooding through her as she changed her clothes and prepared for a day on the job site. Today, she was focusing on her art.
Her tribute to Alannah.
Any feelings for the sexy doctor were strictly off-limits.
* * *
Running a fishtail blade in a long sweep down the tree sculpture, Abigail watched the thin layer of wood peel away as she formed the smooth surface into carved bark.
She’d been crafting the sculpture for nearly twelve hours strai
ght, stopping only to eat a quick bite in the hospital cafeteria a couple of times. And, of course, she’d had to stop to direct Micah’s younger brother, Brandon, when he’d arrived with the additional limbs Abigail had requested.
He had been quicker and more efficient than the movers the day before and he’d refused her attempts to tip him, wheedling that what he really wanted was to work as her apprentice for the day and learn a new woodworking skill. She’d had reservations, certain Vaughn had planted that idea in his head. But Brandon had proven a quick and eager study, paying close attention to her demonstration for carving the joints to graft new pieces onto the tree. He’d had an occasional question or observation based on the kinds of wood she was using, impressing her with how fast he understood that various grains had different responses to the chisels and gouges she used.
His help had been invaluable, freeing her up to do the detail work she really wanted to complete before the hospital’s summer gala. Not that she’d ever fully succeeded in chasing Vaughn from her thoughts today. She’d heard him paged earlier and had wondered what had happened.
If she was distracted from her work, she could always go back and fix mistakes, but a trauma surgeon didn’t have that luxury. He had to be focused all the time or the difference could be a matter of life and death. The thought made her wish she’d tabled this morning’s discussion until a later time.
Straightening from her efforts on the bark, she stepped back to view the texture of the piece.
A little girl in a hospital gown paused beside the caution tape surrounding the workspace. No more than seven or eight years old, the patient held hands with a nurse, trailing an IV cart as she pointed to the trunk.
“Are you carving a tree out of a tree?” she called over to Abigail. The auburn-haired sprite scrunched her nose as she looked at the sculpture, clearly perplexed.
“I am.” Abigail stepped closer to her, setting aside the fishtail knife. “I’m starting with one big tree in the center, but I hope to add other trees all around it so you will feel like you’re walking through a forest.”
