by Lori Foster
“Was it my uncommon restraint that led you to that conclusion?”
Laughing, she said, “I mean a virgin to skinny-dipping. Somehow I can’t see you frolicking outdoors in the buff.”
Damon rested back on one elbow. “I’m always up for new experiences, especially when they’re initiated by a beautiful woman.”
He jumped when she raised both hands to her mouth, the blade of grass somehow caught between, and gave an earsplitting whistle. When she looked at him for approval, he asked, “Is that how country girls whistle?”
Pushing her hair behind her ear, Ceily nodded. She didn’t quite look at him when she idly tossed out, “Wanna see how country girls kiss?”
Feeling a curl of heat, Damon murmured, “That’s a dumb question for such a smart girl.”
She laughed and came down over his chest, knocking him flat. “I like you, Damon.”
“Is that so?” He smiled, enjoying her silly banter. “Show me.”
“All right.” Her eyebrows lowered. “But I should warn you first that I don’t sleep with a guy on the first date.”
“Pity.” Did she expect him to start complaining? He held his grin back with an effort, ready to disappoint her. He liked Ceily, and he appreciated her honesty. He held her hair away from her face and brushed his lips over her chin, her throat.
“You’re not mad?”
“That you’ve been teasing me? No. I happen to be enjoying your efforts.”
“Unbelievable.”
Feeling smug, he grinned at her, knowing he had just surprised her. “So how many dates will it take me?”
She stared deep into his eyes, lowered her mouth to his and groaned. “Let’s play it by ear.”
The second her mouth touched his, Damon was lost. Damn, she was sweet, and yet she was also brazen. A delicious combination.
Slowly the kiss ended. Ceily licked her lips, sighed and rested her head on his chest. “Want me to teach you how to whistle like that?”
Damon was in the most powerful throes of lust he’d felt in years, and she wanted to teach him how to whistle. He laughed, liking the novelty of it, liking her more by the moment. “That’s exactly what I was thinking about. Whistling. And with a blade of grass, no less.”
She poked him in the ribs. “Liar.”
He tightened his arms around her so she couldn’t prod him again. “At the risk of sounding trite, what’s a smart girl like you doing in Buckhorn?” Damon could easily picture her in the city, charming one and all.
She pushed up to see his face. “This is home. Where else would I be?”
The way she said it, he felt foolish for asking. Though he’d come with a distinct sense of contempt for the town that had ostracized Emma, Buckhorn had managed to charm him as well. The relaxed air, the openness, the sense of being where you belonged, fed something in his soul. The idea of settling here teased at him. “Your grandfather own a lot of land?”
Her sigh held a wealth of melancholy. “He does, but soon he’ll have to sell a major portion of it, including this spot, which is one reason I brought you here. I don’t know how much longer I’ll get to enjoy it.”
“Is he selling to developers?”
“He doesn’t want to. But he needs the money, so…” She shrugged.
A variety of emotions clamored for attention. Damon hated that Ceily would lose something important to her, but at the same time his mind already churned with the possibilities. It would be an insult to the land to clutter it with shopping centers or parking lots, but a few cozy cabins spaced out along the creek…well, it’d be lovely. And lucrative.
He couldn’t think about purchasing the land without thinking about Ceily as well. She was in her mid-thirties, single, which prompted another question. “Okay, so why isn’t a warm, sexy woman like you married?”
Her cheeks dimpled with a smile. “I suppose I have high standards, and all the best men were taken.”
“And those standards are…?”
“Mmm. Let’s see.” Somehow, her hand on his chest just happened to be over his left nipple. If she stroked him one more time, he was going to have to jump into the icy creek on his own volition. “He’d need to be caring, like Sawyer Hudson.”
A dark cloud intruded on his contentment. “Case Hudson’s father?”
“Yep. Sawyer is a local doctor and everyone in these parts loves him. He’s almost perfect, but I’d want someone to be bold and vigilant too, like his brother, Morgan. He’s the sheriff.”
Damon saw a definite pattern beginning. “For crying out—”
“And gentle like his brother Jordan, handy like Gabe…”
“Enough.” Damon rolled her beneath him. In a growl, he said, “I think you’re teasing me again.”
She laughed up at him, proving him right. “Maybe. But I’ve always been a little in love with each of them.” Her gaze moved over his mouth and she added gently, “No one else ever quite measures up.”
Damon’s eyebrows lifted. “By God, that sounds like a challenge.”
She looped her arms around his neck. “Does it?”
Damon had the feeling she knew exactly what she was doing. Never in his life had he felt the need to compete for a woman, and he wasn’t about to start the barbaric ritual now. Despite those assurances to himself, he tangled his hand in her hair, tipped her mouth up to his and said, “I don’t want to hear you say their names again.”
“But—”
He kissed her, not just a kiss, but full-body contact, heartbeat to heartbeat, and long minutes later when he felt her thigh slide up along the outside of his, he lifted his head. Her lips were wet, her eyes smoky.
Satisfied, Damon pried himself away from her and stood. “Now,” he said, while trying to subtly readjust himself, “about that dip in the creek…”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMMA GAVE UP TRYING to get away from Casey. Oh, if she flat out told him to release her, he would. But then he’d wonder at her overreaction, especially in light of what they’d just shared. She didn’t want to give away more than necessary.
She settled back against him—a most comfortable place to be—and made her tone as unaffected as possible. Despite her wariness in discussing her problems with him, she felt mellow and sated and emotionally full.
She kissed his chest and asked, “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know everything about you. When we were younger I was so busy trying to resist you, I never thought to ask some important questions.” He patted her behind. “It took all my willpower and concentration to say no.”
She smiled.
Casey relaxed his hold to stroke her back. “I always assumed that your dad mistreated you. Did you know that?”
A logical assumption, she supposed, but mostly untrue. “No, my dad never physically hurt me.”
“Okay, not physically.” He’d caught her small clarification and asked for one of his own. “But he did hurt you, didn’t he, by not putting you first, as all parents should?”
Perhaps, Emma was thinking, she should tell him some of it. It would help to show the broad contrasts in their lives and make him understand why she couldn’t stay in Buckhorn. It wouldn’t be easy for him to understand because Casey had always known love, always had security. Could he even comprehend what her life had been like?
But she’d taken too long to answer him. He turned to his side so that Emma faced him. With a tenderness that felt almost like love, he tipped up her chin and kiss
ed her nose. “Trust me, Em.”
“I do. I was just trying to figure out how to say it, where to begin.”
“Your mother is a drunk?”
“For as far back as I can remember. All our holidays and special occasions were tainted because she’d drink too much, and once she started, she’d keep drinking for days, and then need more days to recover.” Somehow, telling Casey about her darkest secrets wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated. He held her, warm and strong, and it made it so much easier. “She got to where she didn’t need a reason to drink. She’d just decide to and the times between episodes narrowed until she was drinking almost as often as not.” Emma took comfort in the steady thumping of his heart and admitted, “She’s not a nice drunk.”
Casey’s eyes were steady on her face, not giving her a chance to retreat emotionally or hold anything back. “She got violent?”
“Sometimes.” That was so awful to admit, Emma immediately tried to explain. “Her judgment was off when she drank. She’d take everything wrong, no matter what you said or what you did. And she’d get furious.”
Casey muttered a low curse and gathered her closer.
“It’s all right.” Emma gave him one truth that she’d learned long ago. “Being hit wasn’t the worst part of it.”
“No?” He drew a shuddering breath, and his voice sounded raw. “What was the worst part?”
She shrugged. “Being afraid. Not knowing when it would happen, not knowing what to expect or when. I hated walking on eggshells, always being so uncertain.”
She’d never talked about her mother with anyone, and now she found there were things about her mother’s illness that she wanted to say. “You know what? It was strange, but I got to where I could figure out when she’d drink just from the anticipation in her voice. Or her tone. Something about her mannerisms. I could even talk to her on the phone and I’d hear it and…I didn’t want to go home.”
Breathing too hard, Casey kissed her temple, her ear. She felt his grim resolve to hear it all, so she continued.
“It might have been a week or a month. It might have been only a few days. But I knew if she started to drink, she’d get drunk.” Emma sighed and turned onto her back to stare up at the roof. “Those were the nights I’d stay out.”
“So she couldn’t touch you?”
“That, and because she’s so…ugly when she’s drunk. Mean and nasty and hateful. She made me feel ugly, too.”
“Oh, Em.” He squeezed her tight.
“By the morning, she’d be in a near stupor and much easier to deal with. When she’d finally sober up, she’d be sorry. Really, really sorry. And she’d be sick for days.”
“Jesus.” He gave a long, disgusted sigh.
She shrugged as if it didn’t really matter—when really it mattered too much. It always had. “Dad tried to run interference—he really did. But he’s always worked two jobs and he…” Emma squeezed her eyes shut. “He loves her. He’d tell her not to drink, threaten to leave her. And once he even refused to buy her any alcohol. But…that didn’t stop her either.” Emma hated remembering that night. It still had the power to make her stomach pitch in fear.
She shrugged, shaking off the sensations of old. “Dad loves her too much to ever really enforce any consequences.”
“Hey.” Casey’s big hand opened on the side of her face. “You deserve love too, you know.”
“I know.” God, her voice sounded far too small. She hated that, hated her pathetic childish weakness when it came to this one topic. She’d grown strong through the years, but it seemed she’d never outgrown her childhood hurt. “That’s why being with the Devaughns was so great. They do love me. Damon and I are close. I had a…a normal life with them and it was wonderful.”
Only they weren’t her real family, just good people. They’d felt sorry for her at first, but that pity had turned to love. She knew it, felt it whenever she was around them. And she loved them in return.
“That’s why Damon came with you?”
“He worries,” she admitted. “I told him I’d be fine, but he didn’t want me to be alone. He hadn’t counted on you, though.” She turned her head toward him and had to smile. He was rumpled from their lovemaking, a little sweaty, his eyes still smoldering. And, for the moment, all hers.
“Damon knew about you, of course. I told him how I’d come to your house that night and he naturally had questions. I was prepared to see you again, Casey, but neither of us expected you to…”
Casey cupped her breast. “Reclaim you?”
“Casey Hudson, there’s no way you can reclaim something you never had and never wanted in the first place.”
His long fingers continued to caress her, shaping her breast in his palm, gently, easily, as if he now had the right. And she supposed he did.
“I was young too, Emma. I didn’t know what I wanted until it was too late. I thought I had to stick to my grand plans and—”
“And I wasn’t part of those plans. How could I be? I understand all that, Casey. And I’m so proud of you.”
He wasn’t looking at her, but rather at her breast. Now he leaned forward and briefly suckled her nipple, making her close her eyes on a moan. She was still sensitive from their recent lovemaking and just that easily her body softened for him again.
He released her only to blow a warm breath over her damp flesh. “I want a chance with you, Emma.” His eyes shifted to hers and the moment their gazes collided, she felt pinned in place. “I want you to give us a chance while you’re here.”
Oh, God, that hurt, to even think of something permanent with Casey. She spoke the words aloud, not just for his benefit, but for her own so she didn’t start reaching for things she couldn’t have. “I have a life in Chicago.”
Casey nodded. “I used to think I wanted a life in Cincinnati. But the more entrenched I’ve gotten there, the more I’ve realized that I hate the job with my grandfather, am sick of the damn commute and resent my time away from my home.” He stared down at her with a thoughtful frown. “Haven’t you ever felt that way?”
“No. There were things about Buckhorn that I missed.” She tugged on his chest hair and teased, “You, of course. And the water, the air and the…freedom. But you have tons of friends here, and family who love you. I don’t. You can’t know what it’s like to be the outsider, for your own mother to despise you and for your father to care more about her than anything else, including what she does to you. You can’t—”
Casey sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Startled, Emma visually traced the long line of his back down to his buttocks. Her throat felt thick.
He turned back to her as suddenly again, his expression devoid of emotion. “You know about my mother, Emma?”
She nodded. Most everyone in Buckhorn knew that Sawyer wasn’t really Casey’s father. Casey’s mother got caught cheating and Sawyer started divorce proceedings. When she birthed Casey, she planned to adopt him out. Instead, Sawyer had been at the hospital with her because she had no one else, and once he held Casey, he’d immediately claimed him as his own. After some nasty gossip—spread mostly by Casey’s mother—she took off. No one had heard from her since. But Sawyer, along with Morgan, Jordan and Gabe, had raised Casey, and there wasn’t a soul who knew them who would question that Casey had been well loved.
“I looked her up once.” His eyes lit with cynicism. “Bet you didn’t know that.”
“No.” Emma, too, sat up and tugged the sheet over her la
p.
“Not one of my better ideas. I don’t know what I expected, but she wanted nothing to do with me. She was pretty damn plain about that.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I haven’t told anyone else, not even Dad.”
“I won’t ever say a word.” Stupid woman, Emma thought, then added out loud, “She doesn’t deserve you, Casey.”
His smile now was chagrined. “Like your parents don’t deserve you? It’s true. You’re a beautiful person and pretty damn special. I hope you know that.”
Such a lavish compliment made her blush.
“I wasn’t looking for pity, though, any more than you were. I only told you because I wanted you to see that we do have some similarities.”
Emma laughed. “Right.”
“We both love Mustangs.”
She gave him that one.
“And we both love the water.” Casey bent and kissed her throat. “And sex.” He nuzzled her breast. “I’d say that’s enough to build on.”
“You’re the only person I know who’d think so, which just goes to prove how extraordinary you are.”
That had him raising his head and frowning. “I’m just me, Emma, prone to making lots of mistakes. Taking the job with my stepgrandfather was one of them, though now I’m not quite sure how the hell to get out of it.”
“You don’t think he’d understand?”
Casey grunted. “I don’t know. He’s made me the damn heir apparent, and while I hate the job, I’m rather fond of him. I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“What is it you want to do?”
“Something here. Something simple. Like you—which is another similarity—I want to have my own small business rather than help run a gigantic organization.”
Prodding him, she said, “Like…?”
He laughed. “I don’t know for sure, nosy. But I’m thinking maybe I’d try being an accountant and financial planner. I already have a BBA in accounting and an MBA in accounting and taxation. I could get a CFP certification…” He finally noticed the comical confusion on Emma’s face and drew to a halt. “Sorry. A lot of mumbo jumbo, huh?”
