“Roger.” Brandon veered toward the entrance to the patio. “Eliza, this is Roger O’Neil. Do you remember Tory?”
“Yes.” She was a grade behind her in high school. A pretty Irish girl who was popular with the boys. “Are you her father?”
“That I am. We married her off last year. She moved to Boston with her husband. We miss having her around, but I suppose you can’t expect everyone to stay in this town.”
Not unless you were Ryker.
“Where are you headed?” Roger asked.
“We were going to have dinner at that burger place,” Brandon answered.
“Come and join us,” Roger waved them onto the patio. “The Bradleys’ girl got married today. Plenty of food inside.”
“Put it that way...” Brandon stepped onto the crowded patio.
“I’ll find you a table.” Roger led them inside, where the band blew horns and beat drums to a lively jig. It was dim in here, more of a pub than a restaurant. That along with rustic tables and green accents belied its Texas address.
A waitress quickly cleaned a booth for them at Roger’s bidding. Eliza sat next to Brandon on the bench seat so she could see the band.
“Heard all about the stable,” Roger said. “Sure sorry to hear about David, too. Such a shock.”
Neither she nor Brandon said anything.
“Those agents in town any closer to catching the killer?”
“No, not yet,” Brandon said.
Another waitress dropped off two glasses of water. “What will you two be drinking tonight?”
“Water’s fine with me.”
“Two Foster’s,” Brandon said, grinning at Eliza’s protesting glance. “Live a little.”
It would be nice to forget about Jillian for a while. His father. David. Why did bad news always have to happen in threes?
“I was glad to hear the task force working the murders has eliminated you as a suspect, Eliza. I knew your dad back in the day. Nice family. He was a good man.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s a buffet over there.” Roger pointed to the corner next to the band. “Or you can order from our menu.”
Someone interrupted Roger, and he made an excuse to leave them.
Eliza turned to Brandon. “Did I hear you say ‘live a little’?” Brandon Reed, encouraging her to party?
“We aren’t kids anymore.”
What did that mean? That living a little now was different than partying as a teenager? She looked around at all the smiling faces. People danced. Drank. Laughed. A celebration. It was more than getting together as friends and partying. This was a celebration of life. Brandon did live that way. He never wasted a moment. She’d wasted them every Friday.
“You never stop surprising me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
She laughed and scooted closer to him on the bench seat, not caring how it appeared.
Their beers arrived, and they ordered dinner. Eliza lifted her beer and held it out to Brandon. He lifted his, eyeing her peculiarly, but with affection in his eyes.
“To life.”
“Life.” He clinked his mug with hers.
It felt too good to sit close to him and share a long look. She turned to the celebration.
“How many of these people do you know?” she asked.
“Just about everyone. I do get out every once in a while. I think I actually got an invitation to this wedding.”
A lot had happened to cause it to slip his mind. “It’s nice.”
“It meets your Hollywood standards?” he asked dubiously.
“Well.” She took in the plain white cake and tiny vases of red roses on the tables. “I’d have spruced it up a bit.” Not much, though.
“Chandeliers, big floral arrangements, linens?”
She looked around the Irish pub. The style spoke for itself. “No. More color on the cake and maybe a banner or something.”
“Casual for you. I would expect more extravagance.”
“Really?”
“Aren’t those the kind of parties you plan in Hollywood?”
“Yes, but...” She missed doing casual.
“Small-town charm getting to you?”
She smiled and breathed a laugh. “It sure is.” And so was he.
They shared another long look. The waitress arrived with their sandwiches.
Eliza watched a little girl in a white dress dance with the groom. The bride danced with an older gentleman who must be her father. A table of men laughed boisterously, well into their beers. A couple sat at another table, deep into a quiet conversation. Newly acquainted.
She looked at the little girl again.
“Cute, isn’t she?” Brandon said.
“Very.”
“Do you want kids someday?”
“I don’t know.” She hadn’t thought about it much. Her business had taken the front seat in her life. Even her marriage had been secondary to that.
“Do you?”
“No.”
His terse response reminded her of his hang-up with his father.
“I think you should. You’d make a great dad.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Curious, how adamant he was. “Why do you think that about yourself? You aren’t your father.”
“No, but he’s mine.”
So, he had violent blood running through him, and that was why he didn’t want kids. “Give yourself a little credit.”
“Don’t ruin the night, Eliza.”
They had created this patch of tranquility in the middle of chaos. She didn’t want to end it yet, either. Still, she couldn’t let it go just yet.
“If I were your wife, I’d show you what a good man you are.”
Rather than threaten to ruin the night, what she said softened the mood. Brandon looked at her with growing heat, heat kept at a low simmer, pleasantness, contentment, delight. Now she’d triggered something else, brought out a match that was ready to light.
The waitress reappeared. Her timing was impeccable.
Brandon ordered two more beers. She already felt the first one.
Out on the dance floor, the bride and groom danced to a slow song. The bride’s parents danced nearby, each watching the couple, proud and happy.
The tune picked up in tempo, back to a jazzy, horn-blowing beat.
“Let’s go dance.” Brandon gave her a nudge to slide out of the booth.
Levity renewed. Excited over the prospect of him cutting loose, she stood and went to the crowded dance floor. He turned out to be a good dancer. Another surprise. She boogied closer to him. He took her hand and swayed with her to the snappy beat. She loved the smile in his eyes.
Nothing mattered but this. Lively music, the crowd, the happy celebration. An escape from all that was happening outside of it. No one judged them. No one gave them disapproving looks. No murders. No threats. Everything fell away except sharing this night with Brandon.
She danced in his arms through three vivacious songs. Then a slower, romantic tune began to play. With her arms over his shoulders, she looked up at him, at the match that was ready to light, and stepped back. Talk about ruining the night. All they needed was another round in bed. They sat out the slow song, drinking beer well into the next faster one.
She was beginning to feel the alcohol quite a bit.
“I’ve had enough. How about you?” he said.
Right in tune with her. “I was just about to say something like that.”
Normally, Eliza could stay the entire the night, but strangely, now was different. This wasn’t her party. She hadn’t planned it. She was a guest.
Leaving the pub, Brandon took her hand as they walked along the street to his truck, a silent message that he was enjoying this as much as her. Being together. Forgetting all that stood in the way.
She inhaled deeply. It was a quiet, clear night. This didn’t feel wrong.
At his truck, she stopped. Instead of opening the door for her, he pulled
her to face him, pulled again and had her against him. Her hands were on his chest. He angled his head and kissed her.
The kiss quickly fanned into more. He cupped her face with one hand, his mouth mashing with hers. When he lifted his head, she stared up at the fire in his golden-brown eyes. The past was nowhere near her heart now. Only the rightness of this night burned in her.
He opened the door, and she got in. It was a wordless acknowledgment of what would come. As he drove toward the ranch, she was so aware of him. He glanced over once, eyes flaming, drifting down her body. Then he drove faster on the two-lane highway leading out of town. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour. It was long enough for the magic of the night to wear off.
When they reached the driveway, she’d already decided to refuse him if he tried to finish what he’d started. Judging from his now tense profile, low, shadowy brow, tight line of his mouth, he’d drawn the same conclusion.
The flame was officially doused when another car appeared on the road, heading for them.
“Who’s that?”
Brandon didn’t answer. The headlights drew nearer. As it passed she saw it was tan in color. Jillian’s car.
“Does that woman never give up?”
“It wasn’t Jillian.” Slamming on the brakes, Brandon whipped his truck around and revved the engine to give chase to the car. But the car had sped up and now raced a good distance ahead.
At the highway, it disappeared as it turned.
Brandon reached the highway. By then there was no sight of the taillights of the other car. Brandon drove fast. He didn’t lessen the pace until the next town over from Vengeance popped up on the horizon.
He drove through town, searching side streets. No sign of the tan car. Finally, he turned and drove back toward the ranch.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Jillian?”
“It was my dad. I saw him driving.”
“Jillian’s car?”
He didn’t comment.
“Do they know each other?”
“I don’t see how. He’s been in prison for ten years. And Jillian didn’t know him when he was here.”
She was about thirty years younger than him, too.
“Weird that they drive the same car.”
“Dad probably stole the one he’s driving.”
They reached the ranch, Brandon keeping a vigilant eye as they made their way to the front porch. Inside, Brandon stopped her from going to the guest room.
“Sleep with me.”
Chapter 15
Brandon told himself he brought her to bed with him to protect her from his father. The night they’d had couldn’t be topped, but the enchantment had faded the moment he’d driven onto his road. It had ended altogether when he’d seen his dad. What had he been doing here? He hadn’t seen any signs of a break-in. All the windows and doors were locked. The stable was void of mischief. Had he just waited for them to come home and given up when the hour grew late?
What would he have done if they’d been home? Tried to kill Eliza? Brandon had no doubt. He also wouldn’t put it past him to return before morning. Which was why Eliza was sleeping in the same bed as him.
She emerged from the bathroom. The light beside the bed was on, dim light illuminating her long sleep T-shirt. She hesitated in the doorway before stepping to the other side of the bed and getting in. He was in underwear with the covers drawn to his waist, pretending to be into an American Dad episode.
He was hard as stone. Growing harder with her lying so close. It was the night. It had been so easy to be with her. So much better than when they were kids. He didn’t understand how it was possible. And he resisted the nagging reality that there was nothing about her that would keep him away. He’d broken up with her because he’d known she would fly away. She wasn’t ready to settle down. Nor had he been. Now...
Now it was so different.
Talking about family had disturbed him. As with the rest of the night, even the talk had felt right. She was right for him. She was his girl. Always had been.
That made him go cold with dread. Had he ever been this close to a woman before? He didn’t think so. Now that he was, he was out of his realm. Tempted to be with her, terrified to allow it to happen.
Rolling his head, he saw her gaze was already on him, thinking the same thoughts. She was a runner because of the way she’d lost her dad. She accused him of being the same way because of his. The abuse he’d suffered.
Whatever dynamics worked on them, this night wasn’t over, and it might be his undoing if he gave in to what his heart urged.
“Does tonight scare you?” she asked.
“No.” It was a lie. It scared him to death.
She smiled. “Liar.”
How had she gotten to know him so well? Maybe she always had.
She rolled onto her elbow, her face close to his. Her nightshirt drooped and gave him a glimpse of cleavage. Naked cleavage.
“This doesn’t scare you?” She traced her finger along the side of his mouth.
“Does it scare you?”
Her smile softened. “Yes.”
“It should.”
“Why, because you won’t be there for me if I fall in love with you?”
No, because a future with him would be risky. A woman like Eliza would push him at every turn. He couldn’t predict where that would lead. He needed predictable.
She leaned down, hovering above his lips. “I think you have it all wrong.”
“Yeah?” He was too hard to stop her.
“Yeah.”
“How so?”
She kissed him tenderly. What had made her so brazen, he couldn’t guess. But it sure felt good.
“You need to be pushed.”
“What about you?”
“I need to be the one doing the pushing.”
“Eliza...” She sounded a little too serious. Was she talking about a future? That would mean she’d have to give up her company in Hollywood. Was she really prepared to do that? To move back here?
The thought increased his dread. It was a wave inside him. He tensed.
But she kissed him again, and all he could think about was how hard he was. Tossing the covers off him, she straddled him. Feeling her bareness against his groin, he lost all other coherency but the feel of her right against the length of him, the only barrier his underwear.
She must have decided this was where the night was going to go before she left the bathroom. What had changed her mind from the drive home?
“I don’t want this night to end,” she said, leaning down to kiss him.
He couldn’t disagree. Putting his hands on her bare hips, he lifted her T-shirt and flung it over the side of the bed.
She was a vision sitting on top of him, full breasts, trim waist, slender thighs spread for him. Rolling her onto her back, he pushed his underwear down and kicked them off his legs.
Kissing her, he probed for her. He’d slow down as soon as he sank inside her. As he did, sensation overtook him. She was wet. He slid so easily, buried himself deep. He shuddered with the pleasure it gave him. He held still. If he didn’t, he’d lose control too soon.
“Make love to me, Brandon,” she murmured between kisses.
Looking down at her, he began to move. Each stroke brought him closer to oblivion. He feasted on the sight of her, her round breasts prone to him, her nipples hard. He took one into his mouth, rewarded by a sultry sound from her. Her hands were on his shoulders, toned arms reaching for him. He kissed her and then rose up so he could see her body, those breasts and the juncture of her thighs where he disappeared inside her. It was his undoing.
He moved faster. Seeing her flushed face, he knew she was close. He held off just long enough, until he heard her guttural cry. She was the most beautiful sight in the world. He stayed immersed her as he came with an intensity that awed him.
The incredibleness of it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t remember feeling this way when they were young. While he’d been disappoi
nted to realize she’d choose her parties over him, he hadn’t been irrevocably connected to her. The infatuation, the chemistry, had been hard to walk away from, but they had been too young to place any permanence on it. That’s how it had been for him, anyway.
Now it didn’t seem to matter that she’d been married to his brother. And his brother was dead.
Except it did matter. It mattered a great deal to him. Maybe that was what made him feel so hollow right now. Instinct would have him getting off the bed and leaving the room. Sleeping on the couch downstairs. He needed to get away. The urgency was so much more powerful with her than it had been with any other woman.
The why of that had him spinning inside. Why did he need to run? Was Eliza’s assessment accurate, or was his conscience at work here? Going with the former would suggest he had strong feelings for her, strong enough not to be denied, strong enough to put a four-letter label on it. And that he could not do.
He couldn’t forget his brother. Even as his feelings for Eliza overpowered that decision, he refused to give them further credence. For the first time since his father had escaped, he wished Eliza wasn’t here at his ranch.
* * *
Eliza woke facing Brandon sometime later in the night. Watching him sleep, she wondered if she’d imagined the withdrawal she’d sensed in him, his silence and the anxiety in his eyes. If he’d only overcome the tragedy of his past, let it go, come to terms with the abuse and his father’s violence.
His eyes opened then. They gazed at each other for a while. In the soft moments of waking, none of his demons haunted him. She reached to touch his stubbly face, wishing he could forget them forever. Moving closer, she kissed him before the moment vanished.
Gradually, he took over the kiss. His arm moved under the covers, his hand cupping her breast. Then he rolled onto her.
She opened her legs.
“Eliza,” he murmured, part passion and part protest.
If she gained nothing more from this night than to give him something heavy to ponder, something that might alter his course, it would all be worth it.
He slid into her slow and gentle, packed with lots of meaning as he looked right into her eyes.
He moved back and forth, only closing his eyes when he kissed her. She sank her fingers into his hair, holding him to her mouth for a deep one. Only a few more poignant thrusts brought her to her peak. She came looking into his eyes, and he came with her. Prolonged seconds passed while they still looked into each other’s souls.
A Rancher's Dangerous Affair Page 21
