He let off the gas, downshifting while he eyed the end of the field. “Mrs. Richard Prescott—Lake Forest, Illinois. Scrollwork with a P in the middle. No flowers,” he recited. “I made Willie refund the credit card.”
He gave the wheel a crank, jolting along another rutted lane. “I’m not doin’ the P,” he said again. “I’ll be damned if I etch that bastard’s name in stone.”
“Wood,” she whispered.
“Whatever.”
He took a sharp left, turning off the lane to cut through a stand of trees. Low hanging branches screeched against the windows. She shied from the glass, cupping the thermos lid with both hands. The tree line opened up and Bram pressed the brake, slowing as they approached the edge of the pond that separated their properties.
Streaks of pink-gold sunlight sparked the ripples on the water. He turned, brushing his fingertips over the pale wood. He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out in a rasp. “Do you like it?”
“I love it, but—”
“No buts. You want a chair, I’ll make you a chair, but—”
She cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips. The smile she wore would have made Da Vinci weep. “I’m not Mrs. Prescott anymore.”
“Huh?”
Her smile blossomed. When she looked up, the light radiating from her eyes rivaled the sun. “I haven’t been Mrs. Richard Prescott for over two years. I think you canceled Cara’s order.”
“Cara?”
“Richard’s new wife? The mommy-to-be?”
Her eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened. “Why would she want one of my chairs?”
“I hear they’re all the rage,” she answered with a shrug. She took a cautious sip of her coffee. “Rumor has it you’ve hit the Hollywood big time.”
He stared at the carved wood. “This is crazy.”
“It’s been a crazy morning.”
He plucked the headrest from her lap and dropped the carved wood to the floorboard. “This isn’t what I wanted to show you, anyway.” He yanked on the handle and kicked the door wide with his boot.
“Bram, I don’t—”
He jogged to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. A moment later, he jerked open the passenger door and offered her his hand.
She gaped at him in disbelief. “I don’t have shoes on—or clothes, for that matter.”
He glanced over his shoulder then turned back to her with a wicked smile. “Who’s gonna see?”
She clutched her coffee to her chest. “Uh, the birds?”
“They won’t tell.” He reached across her and grabbed the thermos, waving temptation in front of her eyes as he backed away, his hand extended toward her. “I have something for you.”
She hesitated for a moment then slipped her fingers into the palm of his hand. The blanket slipped from her shoulder when she slid from her seat. She giggled and wriggled her toes in the dewy grass.
He smiled, tightening his grip on her hand. “I knew there was a country girl in there somewhere.”
“She must be buried pretty deep,” she mumbled, following him to the back of the truck.
“I’ll coax her out.”
Placing the thermos on the tailgate, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her easily onto the edge. “Ack! Cold metal.”
She gave a violent shudder and pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders.
“Yeah, uhsorry.” He hopped onto the lip of the truck and twisted to reach for a small beige pet carrier. “I got this for you last night, but someone wasn’t giving a guy a chance to talk.”
“Someone jumped the gun,” she retorted.
“I didn’t want to risk someone getting away.” He opened the metal gate on the carrier and reached inside. “Put the coffee down and close your eyes.”
Lynne raised an eyebrow but complied without argument. He pulled a sable brown lop-eared bunny from the carrier, stroking its tiny forehead to soothe the animal’s ruffled nerves. “You said something about giving a guy a dead chicken,” he murmured. “I wanna give you this.”
He placed the rabbit in her lap, keeping his hand on the frightened animal’s back to hold him in place. Lynne’s eyelashes fluttered. She sucked in a breath, and her eyes grew round.
“He’s a boy. I checked,” he added with a nervous chuckle.
“You got me a rabbit?”
He raised one shoulder in a helpless shrug. “I figure chickens aren’t really your thing. Jeanelle Morton breeds these things like, uh, rabbits.”
She stroked the soft fur, her fingers trailing over his with each pass. Her dark lashes shielded her eyes when she glanced up at him. “So, um…the bunny. Does it mean—”
“The same thing as a dead chicken.”
Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I, um….”
When she met his gaze, he went on in a rush. “I told Percy I wouldn’t be makin’ an offer on the place. He didn’t care. He’d had supper with Anna Albertson. He’s had his eye on her for a long time—though how any man can look at that woman without squinting is a mystery to me.”
“Bram—”
He held up one hand to stop her. “Hear me out.” When she clamped her mouth shut, he went on. “We can stay here, or we can go there and eat cannoli every night. I don’t care. I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign about the farm. I’ll even eat your crappy pound cake.”
“Bram, take the bunny.”
He stared at her, stricken. “But… No. You gave me a dead chicken,” he insisted. “You said it meant you thought you might love me. Well, I might love you too.” He gave his head a hard shake. “I mean, I do. I am. I want—”
“Put him back in the cage thing.”
He cuddled the furry creature close to his pounding heart. “Listen, I know it hasn’t been that long. I know we’re moving fast, but dammit, I’m not a kid anymore. I know what I want.”
“Don’t squish him.”
“I’m not gonna squish the damn rabbit.” The bunny began to push against his chest with powerful hind legs. He turned and thrust the frightened animal into the carrier. “I know what I feel,” he hissed, meeting her wide blue gaze directly. “When Percy told me you were leaving, I couldn’t breathe—”
She silenced him with that magic fingertip again. “God, you talk too much,” she murmured. “Will you shut up and kiss me already?”
“Kiss you?” he mumbled against the soft whorls of her skin.
Her finger slipped from his lips and curled beneath his chin. “I know we’re a little out of practice, but I think that’s what usually happens when a girl gives a guy a dead chicken and he gives her a bunny.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Shut up.”
He grinned and wound his arms around her, smoothing the blanket over her back as he pulled her into his lap. A laugh rumbled from deep inside him. He lay back, taking her with him. “Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled and pulled the blanket open just enough to cover them both. He threaded his fingers through her tangled hair. He meant to kiss her soundly, but the beat of her heart against his made him lose the thread. “We’re really gonna do this,” he breathed, fixing her with a solemn stare.
“Too late to change your mind. You already gave me Thumper and promised me a rocking chair.”
He rolled back, pulling her down with him. “Thumper?”
She shrugged, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Not very original, I know,” she whispered then nipped at his ear. “It’s the best I can do. I’m feeling a little twitterpated.”
Bram laughed, bunching the thin cotton of her nightgown when he slid his hands to her waist. “Twitterpated?”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No, ma’am, not mocking.”
She pushed up and stared down at him with a frown. “That sounded suspiciously like mockery.”
She braced her hands on his chest and reared back, glaring down at him. He took the opportunity to inch the hem of her nightgown over her thighs
. “I would never mock you. I was taught to respect my elders.” His smile bloomed. “Ma’am.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m gonna prove I’m not mocking you.”
Her hair swirled over her shoulders as she glanced at their surroundings. “Here?”
“I think it’s romantic.”
She snorted. “Now I know you’re mocking me. You said we were too old for fooling around in the back of your pick-up.”
“I changed my mind.” The nightgown bunched at her hips. He ran his hands over her soft bottom, urging her closer. “Besides, we have a blanket, and we’re parked down by the lake.”
“Is this why you brought me out here?”
He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat. “I want to see you, and I want you to know that I see you.”
She rocked back to sit on her heels. “Are you busy next Saturday night?”
“You asking me out on a date?”
“Sort of.”
“I might be free. What did you have in mind?”
“Run away with me for a few days?”
“I’ll go anywhere with you,” he answered, his voice soft and husky.
She smiled, crossed her arms over her chest, and pulled the nightgown over her head in one swift move, tossing the wad of cotton at him. “How do you feel about tuxedos?”
He snatched the gown from his face and leered at her. “I like you best in your birthday suit.”
“I meant for you.”
“Wow. A fancy date, huh?”
She nodded and his grin faded into a tender smile when the sun glinted off her hair, highlighting the well-camouflaged threads of silver mixed with the gold. Bram reached up to touch her cheek. She leaned into his caress. His fingers combed the ends of her hair, smoothing it over the rise of her breast.
“You’ll be my Sundance?” he whispered.
Her lips curled into a sly smile. She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Can I call you Butch?”
“No.”
He cupped her breasts and stared up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. She spread his shirt open wide and slid one finger into his belt buckle. He rose up to meet her, pressing her to his chest.
Her clever fingers managed to pop the button on his jeans. She smiled and pushed him onto his back once more. “I’ve never done it in the back of a boy’s pick-up truck before,” she purred, opening his fly.
He beamed up at her and drawled, “Well, sugar, everyone should try it once. Let me show you how we do things ’round here.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bram grabbed the sissy handle above the door and hung on for dear life. He wasn’t accustomed to popping out of tollbooths doing zero to sixty in seconds. Lynne smiled and pressed the button on her earpiece, dropping a wink as she slipped through three lanes of traffic without batting an eye.
“Hello? Oh, hey, Mel. Yeah, we just landed. We’re on our way to the house now.”
He stared at the billboards and buildings whizzing past his window.
“No, we’re good. I’ll call them as soon as I get home. See you at about five,” she promised, shooting a glance in his direction.
He sensed her stare but couldn’t pry his eyes from the pavement. “Eyes on the road,” he growled.
“See you soon. Bye.” She pressed the button to disconnect the call and smiled. “Am I scaring you?”
“Yeah, and I think you’re doing it on purpose.”
“Aw, now, it’s not that bad.” She gave his knee a playful pat. “Next exit is ours. We’ll be on surface streets from there.”
The so-called surface streets didn’t make him feel any better. Six lanes wide, the damn thing was a field of concrete. Acre after acre of mini-malls, quick lube shops, restaurants, and funeral parlors lined their path. He closed his eyes and tried to envision rows of corn planted in their place.
After an eternity, she turned into a residential area, but the large, stately homes guarded by high hedges and wrought-iron fencing made him every bit as uncomfortable. Lynne steered through a discreetly marked gate, pointing the hood of the rental car at the three-car garage attached to a pristine brick colonial.
“Is this it?” he blurted.
“This is it,” she confirmed, pulling to a stop near the front door. She yanked the key from the ignition and patted his knee. “You could have driven.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think I could have.”
She laughed and reached for the door handle. “Chicken.”
“Damn right.”
She popped the trunk. Pulling a nylon and mesh duffel from the back seat, she marched toward the door. “Let me get the door unlocked, and I’ll help with the bags.”
“I can get the bags,” he muttered, staring into the open trunk. He slung two garment bags over his arm, shouldered the strap of another duffel, and heaved her rolling suitcase to the ground.
Lynne stood at the top of the steps grinning down at him. “There’s nothing sexier than a man hell-bent on proving his masculinity.”
He huffed, hauling her brick-laden suitcase up the steps. “I’ll prove it to you. Say the word, darlin’.”
Her joyful laugh lightened his load. He dumped the suitcase and duffel in the foyer. She pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips as she relieved him of the garment bags. “Later, lover-boy,” she whispered. “I’ve got a caterer to corral.”
She hung their clothes side-by-side in a coat closet as big as the one in his bedroom at home. She opened a door off the hall and ducked into a powder room with the duffle. “Give me a sec, then I’ll give you the tour.”
Bram scanned the framed photos of Justin lining the wall as he waited. He’d yet to meet her son, and frankly, after the hard time Willie had given Lynne, wasn’t looking forward to it. Still, a man had to do—
The door opened and Lynne reappeared wearing that wide smile he loved so much. “Follow me.” She pulled her cell phone from her purse and led him down a hall, stepping into an open kitchen with glass-front cabinets and marble counter tops.
“Whoa.”
Lynne beamed. “You like it?” He scraped his jaw off the floor and managed a nod. “This is my favorite room.” She opened an enormous stainless steel refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. “Melanie came by and cleaned out the fridge. Bless her heart.”
He smirked when she held out both bottles, waiting patiently for him to twist off the caps. He claimed a bottle as his reward and toasted her. “You’d better lose the drawl before we meet up with your fancy friends tonight.”
“I like the drawl. I think it’s sexy.”
She lifted the bottle to her lips, her gaze locked on him as she took a deep swallow of icy-cold beer. He grinned when she smacked her lips, and her smile kicked up a notch when he followed suit.
He snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. “I think you’re sexy.”
A gleam of pure feminine pleasure lit her midnight eyes. “Wait till you see me in my dress.”
“Ten bucks says I like you better out of it.”
She laughed and gave him a playful shove. “I’ve got work to do. Entertain yourself for a few minutes.”
He rolled his eyes and let her go, a proud smile lifting the corners of his mouth when she dropped onto a stool and got down to business. While Lynne and the caterer hashed out some sort of caper catastrophe, he wandered to the sliding doors. A terraced patio edged by perfectly pruned boxwoods led to a pool deck dominated by a green canvas cover.
Bram turned from the view, his curious gaze taking in the room. The walls were the muted yellow of winter sunshine. An assortment of copper pots, ceramic bowls, and colorful vases lined the tops of the cabinets. The refrigerator was littered with fliers and reminders trapped under magnets shaped like fruits and vegetables. A Snoopy cookie jar stood sentry near the stove. At the center of the island cook-top, an earthenware pot held wooden spoons, spatulas, and other cooking utensils.
He spared the ruthle
ssly landscaped backyard another glance, and his brow puckered. She gave him a distracted smile and rummaged through a drawer, extracting a bedraggled notepad then scrambling for a pen. A triumphant grin lit her face when she found a stubby pencil and began to scribble on the pad, humming acknowledgments into the phone.
Wandering down the hall, he tested the knob on one of the closed doors, and an angry thump greeted him. He poked his head into the opulently decorated powder room.
“It’s me,” he mumbled, squatting in the doorway. “How’re you doin’, huh? Still freaked out?” He held out a hand, and the bunny bumped his knuckles with his nose. “Yeah, me too.”
Lynne insisted on naming the rabbit Butch. She also insisted he couldn’t be left behind in Arkansas. He set his beer on the lip of the pedestal sink and slid onto his butt, stretching his legs. Butch hopped into his lap and shot him a sidelong glare.
“Don’t look at me. I woulda left you there.”
“That’s why he’s glaring at you.”
Both man and rabbit jumped. Butch leaped from his lap, seeking refuge in the nylon pet carrier nestled in the corner.
Lynne ran her fingers through Bram’s hair, letting them trail over his ear. “Did you get lonely?”
“I wanted to get a look at your garage.”
She blinked, a sly smile playing at her lips. “You know, somehow you make that sound mildly dirty.”
“Must be the accent.”
“Why do you want to look at my garage?”
He shrugged. “Guy thing.”
She offered him a hand. “It’s behind door number two.”
By the time he stood and retrieved his beer, Butch reemerged, fixing them with an accusing glare. Lynne smiled and bent to stroke his twitching nose. “Sorry, bun. I have to steal Daddy for a few minutes, but we’ll be back.”
“I’m not his daddy, and it’s not me he’s worried about.”
She snickered and pulled him from the room. “Try to tell me you don’t love our baby bunny,” she challenged. “I catch you sneaking him carrots all the time.”
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 51
