by Rebecca York
Overwhelmed, she pressed her forehead against his chest, her breath ragged as his hands stroked over her hair, across her back and shoulders. “I thought things might be different if I could get out of Crowfoot. I thought I was going to go away to college,’’ she told him. “Meet some people who didn’t know me. Then my father got MS, and he became more and more dependent on me. He was sick for a long time, and I couldn’t leave him. When he died last year, I realized I was thirty and I was never going to figure out how to have a relationship with a man.
“But I wanted to have a baby to take care of and love. A baby who would love me for myself. A baby who wouldn’t know all the stories about me. So I started doing research on the Web, and I found that clinic in Cheyenne. You said I had guts to get pregnant that way, but really it was the only way I could imagine doing it.’’
“God, Amanda, I didn’t have any idea.’’
The way he said it made her eyes brim and at the same time sent a flood of relief rushing through her. She’d been terrified to share her shameful secrets with him. But he hadn’t reacted the way she’d expected. Not at all. Struggling to keep her voice even, she said, “Of course you didn’t know. I was ashamed to tell you. I’m only telling you now because I need you to understand why I have to keep proving I’m as good as you are.’’
MATT CONTINUED to stroke her. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for letting me understand,’’ he said, feeling humbled by her admission. God, no wonder she’d been nervous about the way he was coming on to her.
“So that’s why I had to go with you to Francetti’s office,’’ she said. “Because that’s the only way I can relate to men. I have to act like everything is a contest. Or a horse race, or something. Only Francetti was dead, and I thought I was going to throw up. Like that day in school,’’ she added with a gulp. “And then the police came, and I knew I’d really screwed up.’’ She ended with a hollow little sob.
“No. We’ve been over that before. I shouldn’t have let you put yourself in danger,’’ he said, hearing the self-accusation in his own voice.
“I didn’t give you any choice.’’
“Let’s not argue about it. Deal?’’ Putting his hand under her chin, he tipped her face up and brushed his lips against hers very gently before drawing back again. Then he touched the corner of her eye with his knuckles, brushing away the tear that hovered there.
“And you thought I was like those sorry jerks in high school? That I was out for what I could get with you? Is that it?’’ he asked softly.
“I didn’t want to believe that. But I didn’t know what to think.’’ She gulped. “I don’t know how to tell the difference between something real and something fake.’’
“So you thought I was feeding you a line when I said I was attracted to you.’’
She nodded.
“And now you need to be sure that you can trust me, before we can work things out,’’ he pressed, wanting everything out on the table now that he knew why she’d been so skittish of him.
“How can we work things out?’’
He brushed his lips back and forth against hers, touched his tongue to the seam, holding back from doing more. “I guess I have to let you know what kind of guy I am—now that my brain isn’t bouncing around inside my head, and I’ve got a little better handle on my impulse control.’’
“But I’m four months’ pregnant. And I haven’t ever—’’
“Let a man get close enough to hurt you—since those guys in high school,’’ he finished for her, and saw heat creep into her cheeks.
Again she managed a little nod.
He stroked his knuckle against her cheek, then across her lips. “I’m very lucky you waited for me,’’ he said in a husky voice, meaning it.
“But—’’
“It’s going to work out okay. I promise.’’
“You mean if the police don’t come bursting in here and arrest us!’’ she blurted.
“Well, there is that,’’ he answered easily, doing his best to appear unconcerned about their fugitive status. He settled her more comfortably in his arms.
“But they’re looking for us! And it’s my fault.’’
“Shh,’’ he soothed. “They’re not going to burst into every cheap motel room in Denver. They’re not going to find us tonight. And even if they did, they couldn’t prove anything. We had on gloves, so there are no fingerprints.’’
“But they saw us.’’
“One uniformed cop got a quick look at you when you were hanging outside a window in the dark. And he couldn’t see much of me in that alley. Not with the low light.’’
“You’re trying to stop me from worrying.’’
He allowed himself a small grin. “It’s a reasonable strategy. But I’m also telling the truth.’’
“We have to figure out who killed Francetti and why,’’ she insisted.
“But we can’t do it now. We need a computer to read those disks, and my laptop was in the pickup I left at your ranch. You think I should go out and steal another one?’’ he teased.
“Of course not.’’
“Then what we’re going to do is hole up here tonight. Tomorrow I’m going to get you out of town,’’ he promised as he skimmed his lips along her jaw, then made a foray back to her lower lip for a quick nibble. “Four months?’’ he asked, changing the subject adroitly as he reached down to cup his hand over her abdomen, seeing how she reacted to the intimate touch. “I would have guessed three.’’
He felt a tiny shiver go through her, but her voice sounded steady. “The doctor says I’m carrying small.’’
“I always heard that good things come in small packages.’’
Before she could respond, he brought his lips back to hers, and this time he was more serious as he rubbed his mouth against hers, then used his tongue to nudge her open so that he could sweep along the sensitive tissue of her inner lips, tasting her, feeling her response.
The touch was gentle, but it kindled a fire in his veins.
“Matt, what are we doing?’’ she asked with a breathy little gasp that told him the kisses were having a similar effect on her.
Taking our minds off the police out there looking for us, he thought. What he said was, “Fooling around a little.’’ Finding her ear with his teeth, he took some delicious liberties.
“But you’re not going to…’’ Her cheeks turned rosy. “I mean…’’
“Naw, we’re just doing some stuff I’ve been wanting to do since I saw you that first time at the post office.’’ He ended by coming back to her mouth for a long, drugging kiss that left her breath coming in shallow pants.
“Matt, I’m not sure I can handle this.’’ She looked down at their bodies—the noticeable shaft of rigid flesh at the front of his jeans and her legs meshed with his.
He held himself very still.
“I mean lying on a bed with you,’’ she clarified. “Letting you do anything you want.’’
“Okay. I understand.’’ He eased away from her, keeping a poker face as he saw her disappointment war with relief. “We should both get some sleep, because I want to be out of here early in the morning.’’
She nodded, watching him as he stood and stretched. He went into the bathroom, cooled off under a cold shower and emerged wearing his shorts and shirt. Casually he turned off the lamp on the nightstand, took off the shirt and climbed into the bed opposite Amanda, when what he wanted to do was crawl in with her and wrap her in his arms.
He could watch her in the shaft of light from the bathroom, watch her collect her knapsack and close the bathroom door behind her. When he heard the shower, he tried not to picture her under the running water, tried not to imagine the way her breasts and her belly would look with the water cascading down them. But he couldn’t rid himself of the erotic image, or his erection.
The light creeping in around the shade was enough to let him see her emerge. Through slitted eyes he saw that she was wearing her gown and robe. Quic
kly she slipped off the latter and scooted under the covers.
Then they were both lying in the dark a few feet away from each other. He knew from her breathing that she wasn’t asleep. Probably she knew he was awake, too.
He had a lot to think about, a lot of plans to make. But it was difficult to concentrate on them when he was so aware of the woman in the other bed.
“Matt?’’ she whispered.
“Yeah?’’
“I…’’ Instead of finishing the sentence, she climbed out of her own bed and into his. Rolling toward him, she pressed her face against his naked shoulder. Within seconds he was hard as a rock again.
“Will you make love to me?’’ she asked in a strangled voice.
“No.’’
“What do you mean, no? I worked up my courage to come over here, and you tell me no.’’
“I thought you said you couldn’t handle lying in bed with me.’’
“I changed my mind,’’ she answered, her hand coming up to touch his cheek, his lips, then sliding down to lightly touch the hair that spread across his chest. It was only a tentative touch, but it drove him toward the point of no return.
Through gritted teeth he said, “Do you know that when you play with fire, you can get burned?’’
“What’s that supposed to mean?’’ she demanded.
“That I don’t want you to have any reason to think I took advantage of you. And I don’t want you to feel you have to prove anything to yourself. Or to me. Not tonight. Not when you’re too vulnerable to know what you want.’’
She rolled away from him and started to rise from the bed. “I guess I made a mistake.’’
His hand whipped out and captured her wrist. Before she could protest, he pulled her back, pulled her hips tight against him, letting her feel his erection as he slanted his lips over hers, dizzy with hunger as he devoured her mouth, tasting his own need and hers and all the sweetness of a summer day in the high country.
“Matt, oh, Matt,’’ she sighed when he lifted his mouth.
“I started things too fast with you, and this isn’t an improvement,’’ he said, hearing the strain in his own voice. He should turn her loose. But that was becoming more difficult by the moment.
His hands drifted to the front of her gown, drifted to her breasts. Through the cotton fabric, they were as firm and tantalizing as he remembered. And he couldn’t stop himself from cupping them, squeezing gently, then brushing his fingers back and forth across the hardened tips.
She sucked in a strangled breath, pressed herself into his palms, and the thin cotton became more of a barrier than he could stand. Unable to deny himself the pleasure of touching her, he kissed her again, while his fingers undid the row of buttons at the top of the gown. Pushing the fabric aside, he cupped her, caressed her. Bending, he swirled his tongue around one distended nipple, then sucked it into his mouth.
The feel, the texture, the taste of her were heaven on earth. But once he’d tasted and touched, it wasn’t nearly enough. Deep in his heart, he’d known it wouldn’t be—which was why he’d tried to send her back to her own bed.
He wanted to strip off her gown, press the length of her naked body to his. But he thought that would be too much for her. So he found himself reaching under the hem of the gown, stroking the curve of her calf and then her thigh, working his way toward the juncture of her legs.
When his hand settled over the triangle of curly hair, he felt her jump. But now he was the one who had control. Distracting her with another passionate kiss, he slid his fingers against the wet, welcoming folds of her most intimate flesh, stroking and pressing before slipping a finger inside her.
Her tiny gasp made his hand still.
“Did I hurt you?’’
“No.’’
“Good, that’s good,’’ he murmured, moving his finger, testing the resistance of the barrier.
Then keeping his own body under rigid control, he took a gliding stroke that made her quiver in his arms—then another, and another. He found the pressure and the pace and the angle that worked for her, pushing her higher and then higher still, until she was clutching his arms, pressing frantically against his hand.
He took her over the top, drank in her cries of release, wishing he could see her face as she came undone for him. As she settled back against the mattress, he kissed her cheek, her jaw, the tender curl of her ear.
She was silent for long seconds, then whispered, “Matt?’’
“Mmm?’’ he tried to make his voice lazy, but there was no way to completely disguise the tension coursing through his body.
“Why did you do that?’’
“I wanted to love you—without making any demands.’’
He heard her swallow in the darkness. “Every time you kissed me, you made me feel…wonderful. I came to bed with you because I wanted to feel more of what you were giving me. I just didn’t know it could be that intense.’’
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “There’s going to be more. When we get to know each other a little better.’’
She gave a little laugh. “I can’t imagine more.’’
“Trust me.’’
“I do,’’ she said, her voice turning serious. “Or I wouldn’t have come over here.’’ She shifted against him, raised her head so that she was looking down at him, her face shadowed in the darkness. “The guys I was with…the ones I told you about—’’
“You don’t have to tell me any more about it.’’ Ignoring him, she went on. “They said that if I didn’t…uh…take care of them, they’d be in pain all night. Were they lying to me?’’
He felt his face heat and was glad she couldn’t see that in the darkness. “I’m not a randy teenager.’’
“No, you’re a very generous and a very honorable man,’’ She said, her hand sliding down his chest. Then lower, making the muscles of his abdomen jump. When she found his erection, she pressed him with her palm, rocking it back and forth against him, making the ache he felt a hundred times worse.
“Don’t,’’ he gasped, struggling not to thrust his hips against that tantalizing hand.
“I want to,’’ she said, her voice warm with the honey quality he loved so much. Then she stopped any further protest with her mouth on his. Using the trick he’d just taught her, she kept kissing him as she eased down his briefs so that she could wrap her hand around his heated flesh.
“I never wanted to do this before. I want to do it now,’’ she whispered against his mouth. “Please, let me.’’
He could only utter a strangled exclamation as she began to move her hand, doing what he had done for her, finding a rhythm that pleased him, that sent him blasting off into space like an out-of-control rocket ship.
When his breathing returned to normal, she snuggled against him.
“Thank you,’’ she murmured.
He stroked his lips against her cheek, feeling peaceful and relaxed for the first time since he’d overheard Logan’s conversation with Hewitt. “I think that’s my line.’’
He felt her facial muscles work and knew she was smiling. “Well, yours, too.’’ The smile faded again, and her voice turned serious. “Thank you for letting me do that with somebody I care about. Thank you for letting me feel like it was a good thing to do, not something I knew I was going to feel bad about later.’’
He felt his throat close, felt moisture sting his eyes. He slid his hand up and down her arm, the contact as much for himself as for her. She was one of the most remarkable women he’d ever met. Though it looked as if the town of Crowfoot had done its best to kill her spirit, she’d found her own way to survive.
Again he was glad of the darkness as he slipped his arm around her and held her close, knowing that she wasn’t going to like what he had to tell her in the morning.
Chapter Eight
Amanda awoke to a feeling of panic—and knew immediately what was wrong. The bed was empty. Turning her head, she saw the impression of Matt’s head on
the other pillow. But he was gone. All the fears she’d dismissed last night came slamming back to her.
She pushed herself up, looked around the room, craned her head toward the bathroom. He wasn’t in there. And she knew with a certainty that pierced her heart that last night he’d taken advantage of her. As soon as she’d gotten into bed with him, he’d known how it was going to end up—because he was a man and men made demands on women, whether they used pressure or more subtle techniques.
She was strung as tight as banjo wire, but she squeezed her eyes closed and willed herself to stop letting the past intrude on the here and now. She wasn’t a teenager trying to get the boys in Crowfoot to like her. She was a woman—with excellent judgment. And she knew that what had happened between herself and Matt last night had been honest—and good. No matter what happened, she’d have that midnight encounter with him to remember.
Still, that didn’t stop her from coming up with another very plausible reason why he’d left her. Maybe until this morning, he hadn’t thought about the implications of her pregnancy. She was carrying another man’s baby—Colin Logan’s baby. And Matt had finally realized the long-term consequences of getting tangled up with her. If he stayed with her, he’d be raising another man’s child. A man who wasn’t worth the spit to say his name.
That was something else she was going to have to deal with. But not now. She couldn’t face that now.
Lowering her head, she cupped her face in her hands. Matt had done things in bed with her that she’d never enjoyed before—never thought she would enjoy until he’d started touching her and kissing her. But that didn’t mean she was justified in thinking in terms of a lifetime commitment.
Sliding to the edge of the bed, she was about to push herself up when she heard a key in the lock. Swinging her legs back, she clutched at the cover as Matt stepped into the room.
“Where were you?’’ she demanded, then saw the white paper bags in his hand.
