Meredith followed Rey and the luggage to the desk clerk and waited while he got the key to their suite.
It didn't take long. Rey unlocked the door and opened it. And the bellhop burst into helpless laughter.
There, on the bed, very obviously courtesy of the Hart boys, were two life-size blow-up dolls, a blond female and a dark-haired male, in the midst of a garden of thornless roses of every color known to man. They were obviously engaged in a notorious newly wed ritual.
Rey tipped the bellhop and opened the door himself, waving the man out while he tried not to bend over double laughing.
When he closed the door again, Meredith was removing the dolls and roses with tears of mirth running down her cheeks.
"Just wait until they break something, anything," she threatened. "We can have them put in body casts for a sprained ankle...!"
He came up behind her and caught her around the waist. "And I'll help you. But, later, sweetheart," he added in a soft, hungry tone as he turned her into his arms. "Much, much... later!"
She was a professional health care worker. She knew all the mechanics of marriage. In fact, she counseled young wives in them. This was totally out of her experience.
Rey undressed her with slow precision, while he kissed every soft inch of skin as he uncovered it. He never rushed. He seemed to have committed the whole night to her arousal, and he went about it like a soldier with a battle plan.
She was teased, caressed, kissed until she felt as if there wasn't a bed under her at all. The roses were scattered over the carpet by now, along with half the bed linen. She was under him and then over him as he increased the insistence of his hands and mouth on her body. She heard high-pitched little cries of pleasure and barely realized that they were coming from her own throat.
One particularly enthusiastic embrace landed them on the carpet, cushioned by the sheet and blanket and, under them, the thick comforter.
"The bed," she whispered, trembling with unsatisfied hunger.
"It will still be there when we're finished," he replied breathlessly as his mouth bent again to her taut, arching breasts. "Yes, do that again, sweetheart!" he added when she pulled his head down to her.
He guided her hands along his lean, fit body to his hips and pressed them there as he suddenly shifted between her soft legs and his mouth ground into hers with intent.
The abrupt shift in intensity took her by surprise and lessened the sharp pain of his possession of her. His hard mouth absorbed the tiny cry that pulsed out of her tight throat, and his hands moved under her hips to caress her.
After a few seconds, she began to relax. He shifted again and found the place, and the pressure, that made her lift toward him instead of trying to escape the downward rhythm of his hips.
She clung to his damp shoulders as the little bites of pleasure became great, shivering waves. She could feel him in every cell of her body, and she wanted to look at him, to see his face, but she was intent on some distant goal of pleasure that grew by the second. Her mouth opened against the hollow of his shoulder and she moaned, her eyes closed, her body following the lead of his own as the heated minutes lengthened.
Her nails suddenly stabbed into his back and she gasped.
"Yes," he groaned at her ear. "Now, baby, now, now...!"
As if her body had given him some secret signal, his hips became insistent and the rhythm increased to madness. She reached, reached...reached...until the pleasure exploded inside her and began to spread in racking hot waves from her head to her toes. She rippled with him, sobbed against his skin, as the ecstasy she'd never known flamed through her with hurricane force.
"Rey!" She cried out pitifully as the wave peaked, and she felt her body go incandescent with joy.
His hands gripped her hips as he riveted her to his insistent hips. She heard his breathing become raspy and hoarse and then stop as he groaned endlessly against her throat and his entire body convulsed over her.
She felt him shake as the madness began to drift away.
"Are you all right?" she whispered urgently.
"I'm...dying," he choked.
"Rey!"
She held him close until the harsh contractions of his body slowed and then stopped. He collapsed on her with his whole weight, his breathing as labored as his heartbeat. His mouth burrowed into her throat hungrily.
"Never like that, Mrs. Hart," he whispered huskily. "You just made me a whole man!"
"Did I, really?" she whispered with a silly giggle.
He laughed, too. "That's what it felt like." He sighed heavily and lifted his head to look at her. His hair was as damp as hers, and he looked exhausted. He brushed loose blond strands away from her cheeks. "I'm glad we waited. I hope you are."
"Yes." Filled with wonder, she touched his hard mouth, which was swollen from its long contact with hers. "I think I swallowed the sun," she whispered. "It was...glorious!" She hid her face in his throat, still shy of him, especially now.
He laughed again, lazily brushing his mouth over her closed eyes. "Glorious," he agreed with a long sigh. He rolled away from her gently, onto his back, and pulled her against him. "We fell off the bed," he remarked after a minute.
"I thought we were thrown off it," she murmured sleepily. "You know, by the hurricane."
"Hurricane." He kissed her forehead gently. "That's what it felt like."
"I'm sleepy. Is it normal?"
"Yes, it is, and it does worlds for my masculinity," he drawled. "Feel free to tell anyone you like that you ravished me to such an extent that I fell out of bed in my excitement, and you went to sleep from the tidal wave of pleasure!"
She managed one tired little chuckle. "I'll take out an ad in a magazine," she promised. She wrapped her arms and one leg around him, completely uninhibited now. "I love you, but I have to go to sleep now."
"Suit yourself, but I hope you're not throwing in the towel. I'm a brand-new bridegroom, remember, you can't just roll over and go to sleep once you've had your way with me...Meredith? Meredith!"
It was no use. She was sound asleep, worn-out by the pace of the wedding and her first passion. He lay watching her sleep, his eyes quiet and tender and loving. It had already been, he mused, one hell of a wedding night, even if they hadn't waited for it to get dark.
When she woke up, she was wearing a nightgown and lying on the bed, under the covers. Rey was sipping coffee and sniffing freshly cooked food under silver lids. He glanced up as Meredith sat up in bed and blinked her eyes sleepily.
"Supper?" she asked.
He grinned. "Supper. Come and eat something." She pulled herself out of bed, feeling a little uncomfortable and grinning as she realized why. She sat down beside Rey, who was wearing a pair of blue silk pajama bottoms and nothing else, and looked under lids.
"Seafood," she sighed, smiling. "My favorite."
"Mine, too. Dig in, honey." He reached over and kissed her softly and gave her a wicked grin. "It's going to be a long, lovely night!" And it was.
They came back to the ranch after several magical, wonderful days together to find the house deserted. There was a note propped up on the kitchen table, obviously left by Leo, because his name was signed to it.
"Goodbye, cruel world," it read. "Have run out of biscuits. No relief in sight. Can't go on. Have gone into Ja-cobsville to kidnap a cook or beg door-to-door for biscuits. If I fail, drag the river. P.S. Congratulations Meredith and Rey. Hope you liked the wedding present. Love, Leo."
"He wouldn't really kidnap a cook," Meredith said.
"Of course not," Rey agreed. But he had a very odd look on his face.
"Or beg door-to-door for a biscuit."
"Of course not," Rey repeated.
Meredith went to the telephone. "I'll call Dad."
He waited while she dialed the cottage her father occupied and tapped his foot while it rang and rang.
"Dad?" she asked suddenly. "Have you seen Leo?"
There was a pause, while Rey gestured with his hands for her
to tell him something. She flapped a hand at him while she listened and nodded.
"Okay, Dad, thanks! Yes, we had a lovely honeymoon! We'll have you up for supper tomorrow. Love you, too!"
She hung up and sighed. "Well, Leo's gone to San Antonio."
"What the hell for?" he exclaimed.
"Apparently he walked out of Barbara's cafe with a cook in his arms and put him in the ranch truck..."
"Him?" Rey exclaimed.
"Him." She sighed. "The cook escaped out the other door and ran to get Chet Blake."
"The chief of police?" Rey looked horrified.
"Chet was laughing so hard that he didn't get to the cafe before Leo took off in a cloud of dust, barely escaping public disgrace. He tried to hire the little man to bake him some biscuits, but the cook refused, so Leo took harsh measures." She chuckled. "Dad said he phoned halfway to San Antonio and said he'd be back in a few days. He thinks he'll go to that genetics workshop until the heat dies down here."
"We'll never live that story down," Rey sighed, shaking his head.
"There is a solution," she remarked. "We can find him a nice wife."
He laughed even harder. "Leo's the one of us who'll have to be dragged to the altar behind a big horse," he told her. "For all that Janie Brewster is desperate to marry him, he's as elusive as smoke."
"Janie's pretty," she recalled, because the girl caught her bridal bouquet at the wedding.
"She's a doll, but she can't boil water," Rey told her. “He'd never get a biscuit if he married Janie. Besides, she's not mature enough for him."
"She could change."
"So could he, sweetheart," he drawled, pulling her close to kiss her. "But I wouldn't hold my breath in either case. Now here we are, at home, and all alone, and I'll give you one guess what I'd like you to do next," he whispered suggestively.
She smiled under his lips. "Would it have something to do with flour and olive oil and skim milk and a hot oven?" she whispered back.
He actually gasped. "Darling!" he exclaimed, and kissed her even harder.
She linked her arms around his neck. "So," she whispered, moving closer, "Just how badly do you want that pan of biscuits, sweetheart?" she teased.
Chuckling, he bent and lifted her clear of the floor and turned down the hall. "Let me show you!"
Eventually he got a pan of fresh biscuits and a whole jar of fresh apple butter to go on them—along with a nice pat of low-fat margarine. And he didn't even complain!
Lionhearted (12-2002)
Prologue
Leo Hart felt alone in the world. The last of his bachelor brothers, Rey, had gotten married and moved out of the house almost a year ago. That left Leo, alone, with an arthritic housekeeper who came in two days a week and threatened to retire every day. If she did, Leo would be left without a biscuit to his name, or even a hope of getting another one unless he went to a restaurant every morning for breakfast. Considering his work schedule, that was impractical.
He leaned back in the swivel chair at his desk in the office he now shared with no one. He was happy for his brothers. Most of them had families now, except newly married Rey. Simon and Tira had two little boys. Cag and Tess had a boy. Corrigan and Dorie had a boy and a baby girl. When he looked back, Leo realized that women had been a missing commodity in his life of late. It was late September. Roundup was just over, and there had been so much going on at the ranch, with business, that he'd hardly had time for a night out. He was feeling it.
Even as he considered his loneliness, the phone rang.
"Why don't you come over for supper?" Rey asked when he picked up the receiver.
"Listen," Leo drawled, grinning, "you don't invite your brother over to dinner on your honeymoon."
"We got married after Christmas last year," Rey pointed out
"Like I said, you're still on your honeymoon," came the amused reply. "Thanks. But I've got too much to do."
"Work doesn't make up for a love life."
"You'd know," Leo chuckled.
"Okay. But the invitation's open, whenever you want to accept it."
"Thanks. I mean it."
"Sure."
The line went dead. Leo put the receiver down and stretched hugely, bunching the hard muscles in his upper arms. He was the boss as much as his brothers on their five ranch properties, but he did a lot of the daily physical labor that went with cattle raising, and his tall, powerful body was evidence of it. He wondered sometimes if he didn't work that hard to keep deep-buried needs at bay. In his younger days, women had flocked around him, and he hadn't been slow to accept sensual invitations. But he was in his thirties now, and casual interludes were no longer satisfying.
He'd planned to have a quiet weekend at home, but Mar-ilee Morgan, a close friend of Janie Brewster's, had cajoled him into taking her up to Houston for dinner and to see a ballet she had tickets for. He was partial to ballet, and Mar-ilee explained that she couldn't drive herself because her car was in the shop. She was easy on the eyes, and she was sophisticated. Not that Leo was tempted to let himself be finagled into any sort of intimacy with her. He didn't want her carrying tales of his private life to Janie, who had an obvious and uncomfortable crush on him.
He knew that Marilee would never have asked him to take her any place in Jacobsville, Texas, because it was a small town and news of the date would inevitably get back to Janie. It might help show the girl that Leo was a free agent, but it wouldn't help his friendship with Fred Brew-ster to know that Leo was playing fast and loose with Janie's best friend. Some best friend, he thought privately.
But taking Marilee out would have one really good consequence—it would get him out of a dinner date at the Brewsters' house. He and Fred Brewster were friends and business associates, and he enjoyed the time he spent with the older man. Well, except for two members of his family, he amended darkly. He didn't like Fred's sister, Lydia. She was a busybody who had highfalutin ideas. Fortunately, she was hardly ever around and she didn't live with Fred. He had mixed feelings about Fred's daughter Janie, who was twenty-one and bristling with psychology advice after her graduation from a junior college in that subject. She'd made Cag furious with her analyses of his food preferences, and Leo was becoming adept at avoiding invitations that would put him in her line of fire.
Not that she was bad looking. She had long, thick light brown hair and a neat little figure. But she also had a crush on Leo, which was very visible. He considered her totally unacceptable as a playmate for a man his age, and he knocked back her attempts at flirting with lazy skill. He'd known her since she was ten and wearing braces on her teeth. It was hard to get that image out of his mind.
Besides, she couldn't cook. Her rubber chicken dinners were infamous locally, and her biscuits could be classified as lethal weapons.
Thinking about those biscuits made him pick up the phone and dial Marilee.
She was curt when she picked up the phone, but the minute he spoke, her voice softened.
"Well, hello, Leo," she said huskily.
"What time do you want me to pick you up Saturday night?"
There was a faint hesitation. "You won't, uh, mention this to Janie?"
"I have as little contact with Janie as I can. You know that," he said impatiently.
"Just checking," she teased, but she sounded worried. "I'll be ready to leave about six."
"Suppose I pick you up at five and we'll have supper in Houston before the ballet?"
"Wonderful! I'll look forward to it. See you then."
"See you."
He hung up, but picked up the receiver again and dialed the Brewsters' number.
As luck would have it, Janie answered.
"Hi, Janie," he said pleasantly.
"Hi, Leo," she replied breathlessly. "Want to talk to Dad?"
"You'll do," he replied. "I have to cancel for dinner Saturday. I've got a date."
There was the faintest pause. It was almost imperceptible. "I see."
"Sorry, but it's
a long-standing one," he lied. "I can't get out of it. I forgot when I accepted your dad's invitation. Can you give him my apologies?"
"Of course," she told him. "Have a good time."
She sounded strange. He hesitated. "Something wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing at all! Nice talking to you, Leo. Bye."
Janie Brewster hung up and closed her eyes, sick with disappointment. She'd planned a perfect menu. She'd practiced all week on a special chicken dish that was tender and succulent. She'd practiced an exquisite creme brulee as well, which was Leo's favorite dessert. She could even use the little tool to caramelize the sugar topping, which had taken a while to perfect. All that work, and for nothing.
She'd have been willing to bet that Leo hadn't had a date for that night already. He'd made one deliberately, to get out of the engagement.
She sat down beside the hall table, her apron almost stiff with flour, her face white with dustings of it, her hair disheveled. She was anything but the picture of a perfect date. And wasn't it just her luck? For the past year, she'd mounted a real campaign to get Leo to notice her. She'd flirted with him shamelessly at Micah Steele's wedding to Callie Kirby, until a stabbing scowl had turned her shy. It had angered him that she'd caught the bouquet Callie had thrown. It had embarrassed her that he glared so angrily at her. Months later, she'd tried, shyly, every wile she had on him, with no success. She couldn't cook and she was not much more than a fashion plate, according to her best friend, Marilee, who was trying to help her catch Leo. Mar-ilee had plenty of advice, things Leo had mentioned that he didn't like about Janie, and Janie was trying her best to improve in the areas he'd mentioned. She was even out on the ranch for the first time in her life, trying to get used to horses and cattle and dust and dirt. But if she couldn't get Leo to the house to show him her new skills, she didn't have a lot of hope.
"Who was that on the phone?" Hettie, their housekeeper, called from the staircase. "Was it Mr. Fred?"
"No. It was Leo. He can't come Saturday night. He's got a date."
Books By Diana Palmer Page 308
