by Linda Turner
Watching the emotions flickering in her eyes, Nick cupped her face in his hands. "Hey," he growled softly. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Tears came out of nowhere to cling to the ends of her lashes. "I can't believe that all this time I couldn't see you for Thomas. You're such a better man."
"Everything happens for a reason," he said softly, leaning down to kiss her tears away. "The past got us to where we are today. Nothing else matters but now."
And now, she had to admit, was pretty incredible. Murmuring to her reassuringly, he dropped kisses on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, and she forget all about Thomas and the past. There was only Nick and the feel of him, the taste of him, the heat of his mouth on hers. With one long, slow kiss after another, he seduced her with a tenderness that melted her bones, until she was achy and vulnerable and desperate for more.
Restless, she moaned when he started to put her away from him, but his hands were there to soothe, his voice rough as he murmured, "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm just getting rid of the rest of these wet clothes."
He stripped them both of their wet pants and underwear, then, ignoring the bed in the corner, carried her down to the floor and the towel he quickly spread out before the fireplace. Heat lapped at them from the crackling fire, but it was the flames that licked at Nick from the inside out that turned his body hot and hard and hungry as he came down into her waiting arms. At the feel of her under him, her body cradling his, he very nearly lost it.
Sucking in a sharp breath, he struggled for control, but she didn't make it easy for him. Her hands roamed over him, stroking and teasing and driving him wild, and just that easily, she brought the storm inside. With a low growl, he captured her fingers and anchored them on the floor by her head.
"Nick!"
"Easy, love," he murmured, kissing his way down her body. "We're going to take this nice and easy."
He meant to drive them both slowly out of their minds, until they both burned so badly for the other that they forgot their own names, but he hadn't counted on Merry's determination. Tangling her legs with his, she moved under him, rubbing against him as he kissed her breasts, her waist, the curve of her hip, her soft moans calling to his own need as nothing else could.
Fire licking at him, his body tight, he released her hands, but only to fumble for his jeans and the condom in his wallet. When his fingers shook, he cursed, unable to remember the name of any woman who'd ever made him burn this hot. But there'd never been any woman for him quite like Merry. She pushed his hands aside, took care of the necessary precautions herself, then she was pulling him down to her, into her, and the pleasure was almost more than he could bear.
A groan ripped from his throat when she moved with him, her rhythm matching his so perfectly that if he hadn't known better, he would have sworn they'd been together like this for lifetimes. Nothing had ever felt so right, so perfect, so natural. He wanted to tell her, but his mind blurred, his senses swam, and all he could think of was that he wanted this time with her to last forever. That was all he wanted. Forever.
But his body and heart had different ideas, and with every stroke, every urgent lift of her hips, every dark, hungry kiss, the fire burned brighter, hotter, until it flared out of control. With a hoarse cry, she shuddered in his arms and just that easily, he was lost to everything but his driving need for her. Her name torn from his throat, he followed her over the edge and into the flames.
* * *
Chapter 11
«^»
"I love you."
He'd never meant to say the words so quickly—after everything that she'd been through, it was too soon—but lying there on the cabin floor with her cradled in his arms as the storm slowly passed outside, emotions that had been bottled up in his heart for years clamored to be spoken. He loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Right or wrong, ready or not, she had to know that.
Running his hand soothingly down the silken skin of her bare back, he said huskily, "I know you're probably not ready to hear this, but I've been waiting years to tell you how I feel, and I can't put it off any longer."
"Nick—"
"No," he said quickly, even as he heard the protest in her voice. "Just listen. I love you—I can't remember a time when I didn't. I know Thomas told you the same thing, but I mean it with all my heart. I want to marry you."
That was as far as he got. Before he could say another word, she pressed her hand to his mouth, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't!" she cried softly, her eyes dark with distress. "Not yet. It's too soon. That doesn't mean I'm turning you down," she assured him when he stiffened. "But I can't say yes, either. Not yet."
She'd hurt him and she knew it, but she didn't know what else to do. He'd touched her heart in a way Thomas never had, but panic raced through her veins just at the thought of making a commitment to him or anyone else at this point in her life. "Please, can't things just stay the way they are for a while?" she pleaded, sliding her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek gently. "We've just found each other. Let's enjoy that for now and not worry about the future."
He wanted to argue—she could see it in his eyes—and she couldn't say she blamed him. He'd had to stand for years and watch her with Thomas, and he, no doubt, felt like he'd waited long enough. But he had to understand that she'd just escaped a mistake by the skin of her teeth. She needed time—time to recover, time to get her head on straight, time to learn to trust her own feelings again. Until she could do that, she could never go forward with plans for the future.
"I'm not turning you down," she repeated quietly. "I just don't want to rush into anything. I did that when Thomas came back to town last year, and look what a disaster that turned out to be. If I'd just waited and given us some time, I would have realized that he didn't love me the way I needed to be loved by the man I planned to marry, and my feelings for him weren't much stronger.
"And no, I'm not saying that's going to happen to us," she said when he started to frown. "I just want time to be sure, Nick. This has all happened so fast. We need to slow things down and give ourselves some time."
"How much time?" he growled.
He sounded like a sullen little boy who was going to pout now that he hadn't gotten his way. Biting back a smile, she suggested, "Why don't we take it one day at a time and see how things go? We'll both know when we're ready to take the next step."
It wasn't what he wanted, but they both knew it was the wise thing to do. They hadn't waited this long to find each other only to mess things up by rushing. "All right," he said grudgingly. "We'll do it your way—for now. But you should know I'm not a very patient man."
If that had been the case, he would have given up on her a long time ago, but that was a thought Merry wisely kept to herself. "I'll try to remember that," she said solemnly, her blue eyes twinkling. "Now that we've got that settled, is there anything else you'd like to discuss? It's still raining outside, so it looks like we're not going anywhere fast. Maybe you'd like to talk about the stock market or global warming or—"
He shushed her simply by leaning down and pressing a lingering kiss to her breast, just above her heart. "The only warming I want to talk about is the way your body catches fire whenever I kiss you right here," he said huskily. "And here." Trailing his lips up the side of her neck, he kissed her just below the ear and smiled when she softly moaned. "So what do you say? Do you think we can talk about that until it stops raining?"
"Oh, yes," she purred, her smile sultry as he brought his mouth to hers for a slow, languid, kiss. "And if I have my way, it's going to rain for a long, long time."
* * *
It did, in fact, rain all afternoon, but they couldn't hide away in the cabin forever. Left with no choice, they carefully hiked back to where they'd left Merry's truck, and in the process, got soaked all over again. Still, neither of them could regret it. Driving back to the clinic in the rain, they held hands all the way.
The weather system tha
t brought the storm that trapped them in the cabin didn't move on as expected, but settled in over the southwestern part of the state instead, and stayed a solid week. Day after day, storms rolled across the sky, dropping rain on parched land that hadn't seen any significant rainfall in over two years. Streams and ponds filled to capacity, then overflowed, and the drought that had hurt ranchers all over Colorado was finally broken.
But with the much needed rainfall came all sorts of problems for Nick and his deputies. Because of the slick roads, there were more wrecks in one week than there had been in a year, and that didn't include the number of drivers who drowned out their vehicles when they tried to drive across low-lying streams that had overrun their banks. Then there were the elderly folks around the county who got stuck in the mud or needed help with a leaking roof or couldn't get out to check on their pets or cattle or summer wheat crop. At least three or four calls came in an hour, sometimes more, and Nick and his deputies answered every one of them regardless of the time of day or night.
It was exhausting work that kept Nick running all over the county, and there were times when it seemed as if the rain would never end. He managed to find a way to see Merry every night, either at her house or his, even if it was just to watch TV together, but he had to let the rest of his life slide. Then one day, he came home after working ten hours straight to find a letter from the FBI in his mailbox. For the first time in weeks, he remembered the résumé and application he'd sent to Howard Quinn at the Bureau.
Howard had promised to do what he could for him, but since he hadn't heard from him, Nick had assumed that there were no openings at the moment or he didn't have the qualifications for the job. Setting down at the kitchen table to go through his mail, Nick tore open the envelope, figuring this was just formal notification thanking him for applying and wishing him luck elsewhere.
Dear Sir
After considering your application for employment, I am happy to inform you that you have been accepted into the Federal Bureau of Investigation's agent school at Quantico, Virginia…
Stunned, Nick almost dropped the letter. He'd been accepted to Quantico! Elation shot through him. Hot damn! He couldn't believe it! It was the job offer of a lifetime, a chance he'd really thought he'd never get, even when Howard had assured him he had all the qualifications the Bureau was looking for in agents. The FBI. Dear God, it was every law enforcement officer's dream!
Quickly reading the rest of the letter, he lifted a brow at the day he was to report to work in Virginia. He had six weeks. Damn, he had to get busy! He'd have to make a weekend trip to Virginia to find a place to live, and call Tina Adams to discuss lowering the asking price of his house. He'd finished the last of the touchup repairs and still hadn't had any offers, so obviously the price was too high. But first, he had to give the mayor his notice and discuss hiring his replacement. And then there was Merry—
Suddenly stopping in his tracks, he swore. What the hell was he doing? He couldn't take this job, not if it meant leaving Merry. And what else could it mean? Her family was here, her clinic. She'd spent years building up her business, putting her heart and soul into it. How could he ask her to give that all up and walk away from her family to move across the country with him? Especially when she hadn't even accepted his proposal yet?
Torn, he frowned, swearing at the dilemma he found himself trapped in. He didn't need the job with the Bureau to be happy—all he needed was Merry. He loved her, and if she married him, he'd be perfectly content to spend the rest of his life in Liberty Hill. But if she couldn't bring herself to consider trying marriage again, if she just wanted to continue on the way they were indefinitely, living separate lives and seeing each other when they could, he knew he couldn't stay there, not and only have part of her. He was willing to give her some time, but in the end, he wanted all or nothing.
The question was … could he really walk away?
Not sure himself what the answer to that was, he frowned down at the letter from the Bureau and was still searching for an answer when the phone rang. Tossing the letter down with the rest of his mail on the kitchen table, he rose to answer it. "Hello?"
"I hate to bother you when you're off duty," Sheri said, "but we've got a problem."
After all the other problems that had cropped up due to the weather over the course of the week, Nick didn't bat an eye. "What now?"
"There's been a three-car pileup with a truck in the median on the Eagle Ridge Highway out by Walker's Point, and Rick and Lincoln are already out on other calls."
"So where the hell's Harvey?"
"Getting towed in from Gunnison. It looks like the transmission finally went out on his patrol car."
Of course, Nick thought, swearing. Things didn't go wrong when it was convenient. What was the fun of that? Disasters were much more interesting for the powers that be if they happened when everything else was falling apart. "I'll be right there," he growled. "I just have to change into a clean uniform."
* * *
In the end, it would have been better if he hadn't taken time to change into clean clothes. The clean ones only got dirty again when he had to wade into the mud to investigate the accident, which was a mess. The semi had been carrying a load of live chickens, and now dead ones were strewn all over the highway. Soggy feathers were everywhere, and in spite of the fact that two witnesses claimed the truck driver was at fault, three more said it was one of the accident victims who'd been weaving in and out of traffic in a little red sports car who'd really caused all the trouble.
Resigned, Nick calculated the time it would take to clear the mess up and do the paperwork and swore. Merry was meeting him at his house in two hours for pizza and a Martin and Lewis film festival on TNT. He'd have to hurry if he wasn't going to be late.
* * *
The pizza was cold and the first movie in the film festival half over when Nick finally walked through his front door three hours later. He'd called Merry to tell her about the accident and that he was going to be late, so she hadn't really been worried about him, but she had started to get concerned when another storm had moved through the area and he still hadn't made it home.
Pushing up from the couch in the den at the first sound of his footstep in the hall, she turned to greet him with a smile of relief, only to wince at the sight of him. She'd never seen a more miserable—or irritated—man in her life. He'd obviously got caught out in the storm. His uniform was soaked through and splattered with mud. But it was the feathers that clung to his hair and wet clothes—and the furious set of his jaw—that was nearly her undoing. She'd never seen such a comical combination in her life.
She didn't, however, dare laugh—because once she started, she didn't think she'd be able to stop—but Lord, it was hard. Biting her lip to hold back the giggle bubbling in her throat, she choked, "Are you all right?"
He just glared at her. "What do you think?"
"Dumb question," she agreed, trying and failing to hide the grin that kept turning up the corners of her mouth. "Why don't I heat up the pizza while you take a shower? Would you like some feathers—I mean, a salad!—with that?"
He had to laugh—he couldn't help himself. "Damn you," he chuckled. "A salad sounds great, but hold the feathers, okay? I'm cutting back on my fat intake."
Grinning, Merry watched him head for the bathroom and called after him, "Don't forget to wash behind your ears, Chicken Little. It looks like you're growing wings back there."
For an answer, he shot her a rude hand gesture over his shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom. Chuckling, Merry stepped into the kitchen to reheat the pizza and make a salad. Five minutes later, she was up to her wrists in lettuce when the phone rang.
Normally, she would have let the answering machine take it, but with the weather conditions as bad as they were, she thought one of Nick's deputies might be calling about another wreck. "Not again," she said with a frown as she quickly wiped her hands and reached for the phone. It was so nasty out, and he was only just now
changing into dry clothes. Surely he wouldn't have to go out again before he even had supper!
"Kincaid residence," she said in a less than welcoming voice. "This is Merry."
"Hi, Merry, this is Sonny York." A retired teacher who now spent his days dabbling in the stock market, Sonny regularly discussed the ups and downs of the market and the occasional stock tip he got from friends on the Internet with Nick. "Is Nick in?"
"Yes, he is, Sonny, but he's in the shower right now. Can he call you back?"
He hesitated. "Actually, I'm leaving in just a second for Colorado Springs, and I won't be back for a week. I've been trying to get in touch with him all day with some info on a stock he asked me to check out, but I keep missing him. If you could just give him the numbers for me—"
"Of course," she said quickly. Looking around for something to write with, she found a pen on the kitchen table, along with a pile of what looked like discarded mail. "Just a minute," she told him as she searched for a piece of scratch paper. "I need some paper. This should do. I—"
"…you have been accepted into the Federal Bureau of Investigation's agent program at Quantico, Virginia … report August 15…"
The words fairly leapt off the page at Merry, slapping her right in the face. Stunned, she hardly heard Sonny as he rattled off the name, cost, and projected earnings of a stock she'd never heard of. He was leaving. She'd thought he'd given up the idea of applying with the FBI, but not only had he sent in an application, he'd been hired. And he'd never said a word to her.
"Did you get all that?"
Lost in the sudden pain that squeezed her heart, it was a long moment before Sonny's words registered. "What?" Glancing down at the numbers she jotted down without even being aware of it, she said distractedly, "Oh, yes, I got it. Thank you, Sonny. I'll make sure he gets this."
