by Pamela Clare
I am not heartless. I have assured Sheriff Taylor that I will see Hawke’s family well cared for as long as he remains behind bars.
“He is innocent until proved guilty,” I said.
I saw in Taylor’s eyes that he suspects me, and I know him to be a friend of Hawke’s. Both men are Cornish, after all. But Taylor is an educated man of the law. He will do his job and, in so doing, rid me of this rabble-rouser.
I am troubled by one thing, however. As Mr. Craddock left, I spied Jenny standing at the top of the stairs in her nightgown. She looked frightened. When I asked her how long she’d been standing there, she stammered something about needing water.
I fear she overheard me. Given her penchant for laudanum, I doubt very much she will remember this in the morning. Nevertheless, I shall send her to my hotel in Boulder straightaway to keep her far from Sheriff Taylor.
A knock jerked Rain back from the nineteenth century. “Rain?”
Kendra.
“Yeah?” Rain marked her place, then closed the journal, her stomach in knots for Cadan and his family.
Kendra opened the door, stuck her head inside. “Joe is here. He looks like a man who’s had some time to reflect. He wants to speak with you.”
Rain sat up, smoothed her hands over her blouse and jeans. “What time is it?”
They’d eaten dinner hours ago.
“It’s just after ten. You look fine. Come on. He’s waiting.”
“He can wait a bit longer.” She zipped across the hall, brushed and braided her hair, brushed her teeth, and put on a little mascara.
Why did she bother? Joe was probably there just to try to talk her into coming back to work for him.
She met her gaze in the mirror, resolved not to give in, then walked out to the kitchen to find him standing just inside the door.
His gaze met hers, an unfamiliar softness there. “Can we talk?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not coming back to Knockers, Joe. If that’s why you’re here, save yourself the trouble and go.”
There. She’d said it. She’d been strong.
“That’s not why I’m here. Please, can we talk somewhere private?”
“We can go to my room.” She led him down the hallway.
“No hanky-panky!” Bob called after them from the living room, laughing.
She shut the door, tried to sound casual. “What’s up?”
He looked at the floor, gave a little laugh. “I guess I need to hear it from you.”
“Hear what?”
He lifted his head, his brown eyes looking into hers. “Why did you quit, Rain?”
“I told you—I’m not coming back.”
He nodded. “I heard that. I’m not here to bring you back. I just need to know. Why did you quit?”
Rain’s pulse spiked. “Y-you were there. You know why.”
He shook his head. “I know what happened, but I don’t understand it.”
Rain stared at him. Seriously? “Oh, come on!”
He took a step toward her and another until he stood only inches away from her. He tucked a finger under her chin, lifted her gaze to his. “Why, Rain?”
Did she have to spell it out for him? Did she have to make herself naked for him again? Well, why not? She had nothing left to lose here.
“You said you wouldn’t … be with me, not as long as I was an employee. I quit so that you would be free to do what you want, but that apparently doesn’t include me.” She steeled herself and laid the truth at his feet, certain she was about to ruin their relationship for good. “I love you, Joe. For twenty years, I’ve waited—”
Joe’s mouth came down on hers in an almost violent kiss.
Chapter 11
Joe forgot where he was, his need for Rain driving everything else from his mind, his world shrinking until it held only her, his senses overwhelmed by her. The surprise on her sweet face. The taste of her lips. The silk of her hair. The soft curves of her body. Her feminine scent.
He slid a hand into her hair, drew back her head, pressed his lips to her exposed throat, the thrumming of her pulse a match for the pounding in his chest. “Rain.”
They stumbled backward onto the bed—which gave a loud squee-eee-eee-eeak as their weight settled.
Shit.
Remembering where they were, Joe pulled back, ran his thumb across Rain’s cheek. “Come with me—unless you want to risk Bob or Kendra hearing.”
She gave a little laugh, her lips wet and swollen. “Yeah, nooo.”
He stood, drew her to her feet. “Grab your things. You’re not coming back here.”
Not to be pushy or anything, but, damn it, if they were going to cross this line there would be no going back.
Rico had been dead-on. Joe had felt an attraction to Rain from the moment he’d seen her, and he’d felt guilty as hell about it—guilty for having sexual feelings about a vulnerable girl who’d already been hurt, guilty for being the same age as the man who’d used her, guilty for being her boss and yet wanting her. Loving her would have broken all the rules, would have made him no better than Silas or the bastard who’d gotten her pregnant. He’d done exactly what Rico had said he’d done.
He’d made her off-limits.
It had been the right thing to do back then… But now? She was no longer a child, no longer defenseless, and no longer his employee.
More than that, she’d said she loved him. Sure, he’d heard that from women before, but what they had really loved was his bank accounts. But Joe knew Rain. He’d known her for twenty years. He trusted her. She didn’t give a damn about money. If she said she loved him, then she must truly love him.
That changed everything.
She hadn’t unpacked her clothes, so it took just a few seconds to gather her toiletries and pajamas. Feeling like a teenager trying to sneak out of the house, Joe carried the bags down the hallway to the kitchen, following Rain.
She ducked her head into the living room, where the television was on, blue light flickering on the walls. “Thanks for everything. I’ll come by and clean Lexi’s room tomorrow. Can you thank Kendra for me?”
“Sure thing, and, hey, you’re welcome.” Bob chuckled. “Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
They left by the back door, walked through the snow to Joe’s SUV and stowed Rain’s bags in the back seat.
Joe fought to clear his mind, starting the vehicle and backing down the driveway to find Kendra and Rose huddled together out front. “I wonder what those two have to talk about this late at night.”
“Us?”
“We are so on to you two,” Joe muttered.
The two women waved, big smiles on their faces.
Oh, yeah. Play innocent.
The drive home seemed to take forever. Joe held Rain’s hand, talking about little things to pass the time—the weather, how busy Knockers had been today, Libby’s new brew. “She named it ‘Plow Me.’”
That made Rain laugh. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
Which reminded him…
“Sex in the spotlight?” He glanced over at Rain. “Did you know about that?”
“The drink—or people having sex onstage?”
Damn. “You knew?”
“You didn’t? Joe, you own the place.” She shook her head. “You work too hard.”
He couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Have you done it?”
“Had sex onstage at your pub?” She looked over at him. “No. The man I wanted to do it with wasn’t interested.”
Oh, he’d been interested. “What an idiot he must have been.”
“You have no idea.” She gave his hand a squeeze.
Finally, they reached the house. He drew into the garage, parked, and glanced over at Rain, who looked tense. “Hey, what is it?”
She looked at him through those big green eyes. “It’s not every day you have sex with the man you love for the first time. I’ve waited so long.”
Her words hit him in the solar
plexus.
Had she really waited twenty years for this?
Haven’t you?
Now he was nervous, too. He ought to do what he could to make this special for her, for both of them. Tonight would change everything, and there would be no going back for either of them. His room was probably a mess. He couldn’t remember if he’d made his bed or whether he’d left his clothes from yesterday on the floor. There was also the fact that he’d been at work all day and smelled like the pub.
Shit.
He grabbed her bags, and they walked inside together, hung up their coats, tugged off their boots. “Why don’t you go sit in the living room by the fire where it’s warm and give me a few minutes upstairs?”
She cocked her head, as if trying to figure out what he doing. “Okay.”
He took the stairs two at a time, hurried to his bedroom, and picked up the dirty clothes off his floor. After that, he turned on the fireplace, changed his sheets and left the bed turned down. Then he took a fast shower to wash off the reek of beer and grease.
Nothing said romance like the odor of fryer fat.
He slipped into a pair of black boxer briefs, lit the candles on his nightstand, and went back for her. He found her sitting on the sofa, hands clasped tightly in her lap, the vulnerability on her face reminding him of the seventeen-year-old girl she’d once been. “Hey, beautiful.”
She stood and turned to face him, her gaze sliding over him, vulnerability chased away by a look of naked longing.
His heart gave a thud.
She pointed at his torso. “That right there—that’s all I want for Christmas.”
He closed the distance between them and scooped her into his arms, gratified by her little shriek of surprise. “Santa came early.”
Rain’s pulse tripped. Could this truly be happening? This wasn’t like the times they’d kissed and Joe had stopped them. They were really going through with it this time. He was freaking carrying her up the stairs to his room right now.
She rested her head against his shoulder, not hypothermic this time, awed by the way he made her feel—feminine, protected, desired. The clean scent of his skin filled her head, his heart beating, steady and strong, beneath her palm.
He reached the top of the stairs, turned down the hallway, and stepped through his bedroom door, where he set her on her feet.
“Oh!” Rain walked toward the bed, warmth spreading behind her breastbone as she took it all in—the fireplace, the candles, the turned-down sheets.
Joe had built a little love nest for her.
He came up behind her, slid his fingers into her hair, and began to unbind her braid, his lips pressing butterfly kisses against the side of her throat.
She inhaled his clean scent, tilted her head, making room for him, some part of her still stunned to think that this was Joe and that he wanted her.
“I love your hair.” He ran his fingers through the last bit of braid, then buried his face against her nape. “I’ve always loved your hair, dreads or not.”
Shivers skittered down her spine.
He drew her back against the hard wall of his chest and reached around to unbutton her blouse, then tugged it over her shoulders and down her arms, the fabric pooling at her feet. He cupped her shoulders, kissed them. “You smell so good.”
Anticipation made it hard for Rain to breathe as he reached down, grazed the swells of her breasts with his knuckles, and unfastened the front clasp of her bra.
He moaned when the lace fell away to reveal her breasts, then took the weight of them in his big hands, cupping her, lifting her. “Perfect.”
She started to say something about the little stretch marks left from when she’d had Lark, but he circled her nipples with his thumbs, making her entire body jerk, sparks of arousal darting straight to her belly.
But he was just getting started.
He teased her nipples with his thumbs, circled the very tips with his palms, caught them between his fingers, his touch unleashing a surge of liquid heat between her thighs. “Does that feel good?”
“God, yes.” She closed her eyes, pressed her breasts deeper into his hands, her hips moving of their own accord, seeking relief from the ache inside her.
That’s how she discovered the thick ridge of his erection. It pressed against her lower back, heightening her lust.
He slid a hand slowly down her belly, making her muscles tense. “Your skin is like silk.”
He unzipped her jeans, slid his hands inside her panties to explore her, his other hand still busy with her breast. He had no trouble finding her clit and no uncertainty about what to do when he found it, his clever fingers stroking, teasing, flicking. Impatient for him, she parted her legs and was rewarded when he slid a thick finger inside her.
They moaned in unison.
“You’re so wet.” He stroked her inside and out, the angle of his hand ensuring that he grazed her clit with each thrust, his other hand still tormenting her nipples.
She met his motions with thrusts of her own, digging into the muscles of his forearm with the nails of one hand, the fingers of the other fisting in his hair as she reached behind her to steady herself. “Oh, yes.”
How could this be so good already? She was on the brink of an orgasm, and they hadn’t even reached the bed.
She was close … so close… and then…
He stopped and scooped her up, then carried her to the bed and peeled the jeans and panties off her body, tossing them aside. He stood beside the bed, his gaze consuming her, candlelight playing over the ridges and valleys of his muscles. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“You didn’t seem to feel that way yesterday.”
“Are you kidding? It took everything I had to keep my hands off you.”
A thrill shivered through her. “I wish you hadn’t.”
“Yeah, me too.” He knelt on the bed beside her, ducking down to kiss first her mouth, then an aching nipple, his erection straining against his boxer briefs. “I want to taste you.”
Was he asking?
“Yes.”
He didn’t do what she thought he was going to do. Instead of burying his face between her legs, he came down on her throat, kissing, licking, nibbling. He worked his way slowly down her body, so slowly that she didn’t realize what he was doing. His lips, tongue and teeth spread fire over her skin as he tasted her clavicle, her breastbone, the underside of her breasts. Then he latched on to a nipple and suckled.
She arched beneath him, feeding him more of herself, every tug of his lips making the ache inside her sharper.
He fed on one breast, then the other. “I love your body.”
In the next instant, his mouth was on her again, tracing a path over her ribcage and across her belly then ducking down between her legs, his hot lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
She opened her eyes, found him watching her, his brown eyes dark with arousal.
He smiled, pushed her thighs wide apart—and flicked her clit with this tongue.
She gasped, watching as he parted her and went to work on her with his mouth, licking and suckling her clit. The intense pleasure took her by surprise, her eyes drifting shut, her fingers sliding into his hair. She’d enjoyed oral sex—or tried to—but this was something different.
Joe was so… damned… good… teasing her clit … drawing it into his mouth … tugging and sucking on her sensitive inner lips…
She bucked against his mouth, desperate now. He threw a strong arm across her lower belly to hold her in place, then slid his fingers inside her, stroking her, every thrust magic, his mouth and lips and tongue killing her. She couldn’t help but moan, her response beyond her control, the pleasure almost unbearable.
Orgasm hit her hard, making her cry out, the ecstasy lifting her up and up and up… and leaving her to float somewhere close to heaven.
Joe stretched out beside Rain, awed by her, shaken to his core by the depth of his feeling for her. She lay motio
nless, and he chuckled to see her so far gone, her eyes closed, her brow still furrowed, her body limp. There was a reason the French referred to orgasm as la petite mort—the little death.
Her scent all over him, her taste still on his tongue, he went to work bringing her back to life, planting soft kisses on her hair, her temple, her forehead, caressing the curve of her hip, her belly, the underside of her breasts, tickling her ribcage, her inner thighs.
She smiled, a sleepy, sexy kind of smile, stretched, and opened her eyes. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah?” He kind of figured she’d enjoyed it, given her scream—and the fact that she’d almost pulled his hair out by the roots.
She rolled onto her side, slid a hand up his chest. “Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about this?”
“Mmm…twice?” God, it felt right to be close to her.
“At least a thousand times.” She leaned in, kissed one of his nipples, the contact sending blood back to his groin. “I’ve wanted you since the day you punched Guy and threw him out of the pub.”
She’d been eighteen then.
Jesus.
Joe hated even thinking about that bastard. “He’s lucky that’s all I did.”
Rain pushed Joe onto his back, straddled him, splayed her hands across his chest, the sight of her breasts making him fully hard again. “Did you fantasize about me?”
What could he tell her but the truth? She’d been honest with him.
“Yes. I felt guilty as hell about it.”
“Poor Joe. You are way too hard on yourself.” She bent down, kissed him, her breasts pressing against his chest.
He yielded to her, let her do whatever she wanted with him, turned on as hell to see her reaction to his body—her darkened pupils, the lustful little smile on her face, the furrow on her brow when her gaze moved over his abs.
