by Linda Conrad
Houston stepped away from Carley's body, fighting the fog clouding his judgment. The same overwhelming need that had dogged him on the dance floor the other night turned his brains to mush once again. A primitive desire to link his body to hers in an ageless, sexual dance throbbed through his veins, setting his teeth on edge and forcing him to take a deep breath in his effort at control.
Man, oh, man, the two of them must have been some hot item when they were lovers in the past. The simmering lust was obvious, as well as nearly impossible to overcome.
Carley found firm footing and eased around to face him. Her eyes darkened and the lids nearly closed. When she bestowed a shy, come-to-me kind of smile on him, he knew she'd felt the same thrust of passion that had overtaken him.
She said nothing, but raised her arms, begging him to step into her embrace. Houston swallowed a giant lump in his throat and took another step backward.
Not here. Not yet. There was too much he had to know.
When he coughed and shook his pants leg out to adjust the pressure, Carley widened her eyes and dropped her hands to her side. The moment of need passed—slowly.
Houston opened his saddle bags and pulled from them a couple of heavy horse blankets and a tarp. He moved farther under the willows, closer to the river, all the while checking the ground for a smooth spot to sit. He'd picked this place to stop because he knew no fire ants or killer bees would be nearby to ruin their picnic.
Houston intended to ask all his questions before he succumbed to the erotic drive pounding inside him. He silently vowed that before the day was over, he'd know all about his past—and all about every inch of Carley, as well.
* * *
Chapter 8
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Carley filled her lungs with sweet, country air and plopped herself down in the middle of one of the blankets. Houston headed back to the horses after he'd helped remove her boots. She flipped the hair off the back of her neck, letting the air cool her body. Settling down, she watched Houston give the horses a drink from the resaca. In short order he'd retied the mare in the shade and unloaded the basket from the gelding.
Her senses were so highly strung from the nearness of the man she loved that the world around Carley took on a surreal quality. She wiggled her toes and inhaled deeply. The aroma of the place enthralled her, and she tried to pick out the differing scents. There were the odors of the animals and the earth she sat on, of course. They weren't totally unpleasant, only rugged and natural.
Other fragrances titillated her senses, as well. Smells of musk, flowering weeds and the tangy perfume of sweat. Ah, heady stuff. It was good to be a woman in love and in tune with nature on a day as fine and clear as this one.
Houston lowered the basket to the blanket in front of her and caught her gaze. Her total contentment with the place and the company must have shone in her face, because his apprehensive look quickly turned to pleasure, only slightly shadowed by a pensive quality.
"Like it out here, huh?" He peeled off his Stetson and bent to one knee. "I'm glad. I come here alone sometimes to think, but the resaca is several feet lower than usual and clogged with those nasty weeds."
Carley's heart skittered, beating wildly at the sight of his grin and the lone lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I don't think of hyacinths as weeds. They have pretty flowers sometimes." She looked to the right and to the left. "This little river is landlocked anyway. With no rain how does it ever get any water?
"An irrigation channel," he answered. "But with the drought, they're using the water for other purposes."
She was finding it hard to concentrate so Carley decided to do something useful with her hands. "Let's see what Lloyd packed for us." She reached out for the basket.
Food wasn't what she needed right now, but if the man was hungry, Carley's basic instinct was to fill her man's stomach so he could concentrate on other things. "Here, let me." She dug into the basket. "I watched Lloyd pack the basket while I was feeding Cami."
"Looks like Lloyd got carried away. Did he think we were bringing all the kids along?"
Carley pulled out the small but sturdy plastic cooler. "I don't believe he would've packed this for the children." She handed Houston the cooler. "Open a couple of these while I unpack the food."
With a questioning look, Houston opened the cooler and smiled. "Ah, beer. Good old Lloyd. Wonder where he had it stashed? Gabe doesn't exactly approve of alcohol in the house." He started to pull apart a couple of cans. "You want beer or a soda?"
Carley pointed to a soda and kept digging through the basket.
"I'll push a few of those water lilies aside and put the cooler into the resaca. That'll help keep the rest of the cans cold." He walked back to the horses and pulled a length of rope from a saddle pack.
As he stood next to the horses, Carley noticed how powerful and steady the animals were. Just like the man, she thought.
She found herself gawking at his well-built body, lean and long, as he strode to the edge of the water. Carley decided Houston's muscles had become more defined since he'd been working on the ranch. The man she'd been partnered with had kept himself in shape by working out, but this man's hard-earned physique reeked of potency and sex.
Whew! Carley felt herself flush, and the day suddenly seemed warmer … more humid than a minute ago. Thinking back to when she'd slid off the horse, she vividly remembered running her backside over his chest and down past his metal belt-buckle, finally finding the hardness of his desire for her. When he'd stepped away, she'd tried to put it out of her mind. But now…
"You all right? The heat getting to you?" Houston kneeled on the edge of the blanket and popped the top off the soda. "You'd better have something cold to drink." He handed her the icy can. Avoiding her gaze, he sat and tugged off his boots.
Carley took a gulp. "I'm fine." She struggled for clarity of thought and speech. "I do think maybe I'll take my long-sleeved shirt off."
She'd deliberately worn a bright-red tank top under her long-sleeved Western shirt in case the day turned warmer. And it certainly had. As she dragged her arms from the sleeves, she realized the warmth wasn't because of the weather.
Throwing the shirt aside and pulling the first of the sandwiches from the basket, Carley found she needed the distraction of food to keep her from making a fool of herself. "Let's see what we have in here." She swallowed hard in an effort to steady her voice. "Want the barbecued brisket or the egg salad?"
"Either."
"Fine. You take the…" She lifted her head and held out the clear-plastic wrapped sandwich to him. When she caught his gaze, she found his hungry eyes roaming over her body rather than looking at the object in her hand. "…brisket," she finished.
Her stomach fluttered, reminding her of the lemon-colored butterfly that zipped past moments ago. Like the hibiscus opening its buds at first light, her body responded to the warm look she found in his eyes. When Houston didn't even try to disguise his desire, her nipples puckered with stinging prickles of sensation.
Houston took the sandwich from her hand. "We'd better eat." He focused his gaze somewhere over her shoulder and took a bite of brisket. "I've thought of some questions for you, and I'd like to get them asked before it gets too hot for us to stay out here."
As far as Carley was concerned, it was already too hot. But if the man trusted her enough to want to ask questions, then far be it from her to discourage him. Slowly and deliberately she unpacked the bounty Lloyd had assembled. From the depths of the basket, she pulled cheeses, pickles, stuffed jalapeños, fruit and cookies to go along with the sandwiches and drinks.
Carley couldn't have cared less about eating, but to her everlasting surprise they polished off the bulk of the lunch in companionable silence. Still hungry for spicier things, she lay back on the blanket and looked at the clear, azure sky through the branches of the willow.
From the corner of her eye, she watched as Houston left an apple on the blanket between them and packed up the rest of the trash. In his bare feet
, he returned the basket to the horses and stopped to pull a couple more cans from the water before dropping down next to her again.
He set the cans down unopened, stretched out on his side, propped his head on his hand and studied her profile.
"Tell me about your background. Who are you really, Charleston Mills?"
Carley smiled, buying time to gather her thoughts. "I was born in Charleston, South Carolina, obviously. It was my father's hometown and he'd just turned his family's business there into a huge conglomerate." She turned on her side to face Houston. "He was brilliant, a high-tech geek … before that was cool. Chester Mills had carrot-red hair and sky-blue eyes covered over with thick, horn-rimmed glasses."
Carley hesitated, thinking of the man she'd never gotten a chance to know. "And he loved my mother with a passion to rival Rhett Butler's. My father died in an automobile accident six months after I was born."
"Carley … is it hard to talk about him?"
She discovered she couldn't look into his eyes when they were filled with compassion. It hurt her sensitive soul, so she flopped on her back again and concentrated on the puffy clouds passing overhead.
"I never knew him, so actually … I like talking about him. It keeps his memory alive for me. While I was growing up, my mother spent hours telling me everything about him. To this day he seems so real I can hardly believe he's not around." She swallowed, then breathed a sigh.
"My mother, on the other hand, has always been way too real. Mom's a Creole, born and raised in New Orleans. I inherited my looks from her." She ran her fingers through her thick hair. "All except this rust-colored mop on my head. Anyway, when Mom found herself a young widow with a baby, she packed me up and went home. My grandparents took us in."
Carley lazily sat up, facing her former lover. "Of course, it didn't hurt anything that Dad had left her rich. Mom's what you might call 'earthy.' Sensual. She doesn't come alive until men pay attention."
"I think maybe you inherited a good portion of that from her, too."
"Why, I do believe that's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me, Houston Smith," Carley murmured in her best femme-fatale accent.
When Houston scowled, she laughed and continued. "Mom is on her fourth husband now, I think. My grandparents raised me. Maybe 'doted on me' might be a better choice of words."
Houston pulled himself upright, crossed his legs in front of him and reached for the apple. Carley found herself grabbing for it at the same time. Their hands touched—and lingered.
Carley deliberately lowered her lashes and stayed silent. Both of them were frozen, suspended in a sexual tug-of-war. She raised her lids slowly and let the narcotic pull she'd sensed in his smile show in her eyes.
"Some say I was spoiled. I prefer to think it's just that people like me well enough to let me have whatever I want." She pinned him with as dreamy a look as she could muster and heard her own smoky tone begging him for what she needed. "What do you think?"
Houston dropped his half of the apple as if it had burned him, but he never took his eyes off her. "I think you could probably get anything you set your heart on." He watched her put the apple to her lips and take a bite, while her eyes studied him with a dancing twinkle of amusement.
Yeah. No question. He'd gladly give her anything she wanted.
But not just yet.
"Tell me how we met." A part of Houston ached to kiss her senseless. Another part of him wanted to protect his soul from the hurt that had haunted him for the past year and a half. He wanted to trust someone, to depend on someone, and he desperately wanted that someone to be the beautiful and sexy woman who drew him to her like a magnet.
Carley's bottom lip curled into a pout, and she set the apple aside. Apparently, food wasn't what she'd had her heart set on this time.
"You'd been a special agent for about six years when the Bureau recruited me after graduate school. You pitched a fit when your new supervisor sprung a woman partner on you."
"Agent? I was an FBI special agent?"
"Hmm. You sure made the mental jump from 'Bureau' to 'FBI' in a hurry. But yes, after a stint in the service you became an agent in the Houston field office." She scrutinized his face. "You were furious about being saddled with a woman. You barely spoke to me."
He'd heard some of what she was saying between the lines. "You were an agent, too?"
Carley smiled but her eyes were grim. "I still am an FBI agent, Houston. I'm also a child psychologist like I told you. I'm here in the valley … on special assignment."
"Am I your special assignment?" To his own ears, his voice sounded hoarse, rough. Every fiber of his being prayed he'd find the peace he'd been seeking with every new revelation.
She lowered her eyes again. "Only partially." Carley pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "After about a month together as partners, we had to re-qualify on the special-weapons range. You bet me a bottle of champagne that you'd score better than I did." She lifted her chin and smiled at him once more. "You lost."
Her eyes took on a dreamy, drowsy quality, as if she were lost in her memories. Houston opened his mouth to speak and had to expel the breath he found he'd been holding. He shut his eyes against the need that slammed into him. The absolute want of Carley constricted his lungs and sped blood to his loins. In just a few days she'd become his everything: the beating of his pulse, the connection to his past, the only thing that mattered about his future.
His free hand moved to cover hers. "I hope I was a good sport about it."
Carley snorted. "Hah! I had to badger you into making good on the bet. Then, when I couldn't pop the cork on the magnum and had to ask you to do it for me … well, we both ended up with more champagne on us than in the glasses."
She chuckled low in her throat, and Houston watched the edge of her top rise and fall against the soft swell of her breast as she breathed.
"We were so absurd, standing there soaking wet and fuming—" her eyes lost their focus again and she absently threaded her fingers through his "—we broke down in gales of laughter. From then on, we became real partners and good friends."
"Friends?"
Her mouth curved into a seductive smile and she licked her bottom lip. He sat up to face her and placed his free hand against her cheek. Her skin was soft—satiny smooth.
The delicate curve of her jaw drew his attention down her neck to the pulse point at the base. A searing need to place his lips just there and taste the throb of her heart pounded through his veins—hard. He didn't trust himself to do what his body demanded. His emotions were too strong, touching him deeply in a place half-forgotten.
She shook her head, blinked and continued speaking, her voice softening. "Friends … for about a year. Then we were sent on a difficult, late-night surveillance." Her voice had a hypnotic quality that seeped inside his skin and wound tightly around his libido.
"We set ourselves and our recording equipment up comfortably in a butler's pantry and waited. One of the suspects was late, so the others decided to enjoy themselves while they waited for their comrade. They ended up partying all night." Her eyes told the story her lips wouldn't tell. "So did we, in our own quiet way."
Houston felt as though he was rushing toward a cliff, bound and determined to throw himself over the side. He had no business touching and wanting any woman as badly as he wanted Carley. He felt a desperate hunger to have her—wanted to devour her whole.
Houston looked down and realized his hands were shaking. Slowly, unsteadily, he framed both his hands on each side of her face and leaned in for a kiss. He promised himself, just one brush of her lips, then he could regain his control.
But as his lips caressed hers and he tasted strawberries, oatmeal cookies and sweet, womanly musk, a wildfire erupted inside him. Carley clung to him, and her sweetness turned to sultry, pulsating pleasure—rich and earthy. One last coherent thought pulled him back, but he couldn't resist nibbling on the corners of her mouth.
"I'm sorry I don't remember any of t
his, Carley. And I'm more than sorry if my disappearance caused you any trouble. Maybe we could start new?"
When he gazed down into her eyes, he was pleased to see them darkened with desire. Her breath came in little pants and she looked as if she'd been fighting for the same control he'd tried to find.
"First, let me explain about Cami. When you disappeared…"
"No! I don't want to know anything about Cami's father." The surprising stroke of jealousy caught him unawares and defenseless. The thought of any other man touching Carley, kissing her, pouring his seed inside her made him want to put his fist through the tree. "She's a bright and beautiful child that any man should be proud to claim. But right now I've had enough talk."
Right now her lips were slightly swollen from his kiss and were the rosy color of a smoldering fire. Houston longed to dance once again in the flames. His hands tingled with the need to touch her skin, fill his palms with her firm breasts.
He couldn't hold back, he simply had to taste the succulent fruit that was all Carley. He swayed toward her and lightly kissed her once more.
"Charleston," he managed against her lips.
Houston sank deep into the velvet softness of her mouth. She made a slight noise, feline and low, like a purr, and all rational thought oozed out of his brain. Her body fitted to his as if they'd been made together.
Struggling to be fair to her, to give her a chance to halt the inevitable conclusion to the way things were headed, he backed off and tried a smile. Carley's look was confused—shocked.
"But … but I…" she stammered.
"Did I kiss you wrong? Wasn't it the way you remembered?" His brain was fogged and he felt dizzy.
"No, it was…" She pulled at his shoulders and dragged him down for another mind-blowing kiss.
Her lips scorched his, and he filled his mouth with her silken tongue. Meanwhile a certainty of purpose filled the rest of him. Being with Carley was right. They belonged in each other's arms. He hadn't felt so sure of anything since the amnesia.
"Were we always this hot together?" he murmured against her temple while he took a shaky breath.
