The Lady's Man

by Linda Turner

  “Everything checks out, but you still shouldn’t be here by yourself tonight,” Nick told her. “It’s just too dangerous.”

  Scowling, he shot Zeke a pointed look that was totally unnecessary. He’d already decided he wasn’t going anywhere. “She won’t be alone,” he said simply, and let it go at that.

  It was a moment before the meaning of his words sank into Elizabeth’s tired brain. When they did, she gasped softly. “Oh, you don’t have to do that! I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  She might as well have saved her breath. The two men had already decided what was best, and they didn’t spare her so much as a glance. “Good,” Nick said as he headed for the front door with Zeke right behind him. “I don’t think we have to worry about any trouble as long as someone’s with her, but I’m not taking any chances. Until we can find her another place to live, I’m going to schedule regular patrols out here at night.”

  “I’ll be on the lookout for them,” Zeke promised. “If we have any problems, I’ll give you a call.”

  And just that quickly Elizabeth found herself alone with Zeke for the night. In the silence left by Nick’s leave-taking, she told herself not to be foolish and read anything into his offer to stay. This was small town America where people helped each other in times of trouble. If old Mrs. Johnson down the road had needed someone to be with her overnight, he would have been just as quick to volunteer.

  Yeah, right, a cynical voice drawled in her head. The man lives to spend the night with old ladies.

  Her heart thumping as she watched him lock the dead bolt in the front door, she said huskily, “This really isn’t necessary. Nothing else is going to happen tonight He wants to see me sweat, and he can’t do that if he moves fast. So he’ll sit back and let me think about how he killed Napoleon, how he’s going to kill me, then let me worry awhile. It’ll be days, maybe weeks, before he strikes again.”

  “I’m staying,” he said flatly. “It’s settled.”

  Nothing was settled, least of all her pulse, but she only had to take one look at his set jaw to know that it would be pointless to argue. The man had made up his mind, and she was going to have to find a way to live with it. He was spending the night.

  Just the thought of that sent heat spilling into her stomach and hot, seductive images dancing before her mind’s eye. Zeke, kissing her. Teasing her. Seducing her. Sweeping her off to bed and loving her until she was limp from the wonder of it. Stunned, her blood humming in her veins, she just stood there in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, transfixed.

  “Elizabeth? Did you hear me? I asked what you wanted to do about supper. We could go into town to Ed’s—”

  Dazed, she blinked him back into focus and only just then realized she was staring at him as if she hadn’t eaten in a week and he was the first course, entrée and dessert all rolled into one. Dear God, what was she doing?

  Mortified, she whirled back into the kitchen, cursing the hot color she could feel staining her cheeks. “No, I’ll make something. I forgot to get anything out of the freezer to thaw, but there’s eggs and milk and bread. I can make French toast if you don’t mind having breakfast for supper.”

  “No, of course not, but I can do it,” he said with a frown, following her. “You look tired. Why don’t you go lie down and put your feet up until I get everything ready?”

  Her heart kicked just at the thought of lying down. “No! I’m fine. Really,” she insisted when he looked skeptical. “And cooking always relaxes me. It take my mind off things.” Like beds. “But you can help by setting the table if you like. The plates are in the cabinet above the dishwasher. Oh, and the syrup’s in the refrigerator. If you like yours hot, you can heat it in the microwave.”

  She was chattering, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Why hadn’t she ever noticed before how big he was? Or how small her kitchen was? He seemed to take up all the space, not to mention the air. Breathless, she flew around the room, hurriedly assembling the ingredients for French toast, and seemed to brush against him every time she turned. It wasn’t until she had a platter of food ready that she realized fixing something quick might not have necessarily been a good idea.

  Intimacy. It closed around them the second he sat across from her at the kitchen table and her eyes met his. The setting was nothing like the previous evening—there was nothing the least bit romantic about it. Where there had been exotic antiques and candlelight at Myrtle’s, now there was only an old chrome table and chairs and an ugly ceiling fixture that put out a glaring light. It didn’t seem to matter. They could have been outside at the picnic table, in Denver at Micky D’s and surrounded by screaming kids, on a bus to Timbuktu and sharing a sandwich, and she still would have felt the same.

  Helplessly she just looked at him. “Zeke—”

  “Eat,” he said roughly.

  She tried. She really did. She wasn’t a great cook, but she had a few specialties, and French toast was one of them. Tonight, however, she had little appetite for it She pushed it around on her plate, but what little she was able to manage to swallow tasted like sawdust All she could think about was last night, the meal they shared and the kiss that followed. With a will of their own, her eyes followed every bite Zeke took.

  Awareness set the very air between them humming with expectation. And he felt it, too. Oh, he didn’t say anything, but she could see the heat in his eyes, the need he couldn’t hide any more than she could. And with every beat of her heart, it only seemed to get worse.

  Restless, she never knew how she sat there for so long without going quietly out of her mind. They were both waiting for the meal to be over, both waiting for...something. And she couldn’t take it anymore. Pushing her plate away, she jumped to her feet.

  “I’m not really hungry after all. I’ll make up the couch while you finish eating. I’m going to sleep there and let you have my bed.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not!”

  “It’s no trouble,” she said over her shoulder as she stepped into the hall to collect sheets and spare covers from the linen closet. “I slept there the first night I moved in because the landlord ordered new mattresses and they hadn’t arrived yet. It’s not bad—really. But it’s too short for you. You’ll be much more comfortable on the bed.”

  The matter settled, she collected everything she needed from the closet and turned back toward the living room. She took two steps and found herself facing a scowling Zeke. “You’re not sleeping on the couch,” he growled.

  “I don’t mind—”

  “I do.”

  “But—”

  His steely eyes, dark with purpose, met hers. “If I sleep in your bed, sweetheart, it won’t be alone. Is that what you want?”

  Startled, her heart bucked in her breast, and for what seemed like an eternity, she could do nothing but stare up at him with widened eyes. Was that what she wanted? she wondered wildly. Was that why she’d been as nervous as a teenager on her first date all evening? She wanted him to make love to her?

  The answer should have been immediate and unequivocal. No! He might have charmed her into liking him, but she’d known what he was from the minute she first laid eyes on him, and that hadn’t changed. A ladies’ man. Too sure of himself when it came to women, too much like her father, he was everything she didn’t want in a man.

  And she wanted him more than she needed her next breath.

  A week ago—last night, for heaven’s sake!—that would have been enough to send her running for the hills. She wasn’t a woman who threw caution to the wind and got naked with just anyone. The lovers in her life had been few and far between. But there was something about Zeke, about the feelings he stirred in her, that had, from the very beginning, been as inevitable as the rising and setting of the sun. She’d fought it, argued with herself over the tug he had on her emotions, tried to resist him. And lost.

  Never had defeat felt quite so exhilarating.

  Butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she arched a brow at him. �
��And if I do?”

  “Then you won’t need those covers,” he retorted, nodding at the armful she clutched to her chest. “If you’re cold, I’ll warm you up.”

  And so it was decided. No promises were asked for, none given. She needed him tonight—nothing else mattered. Her smile sweetly provocative, she tossed the sheets and blankets aside. “I am a little chilly.”

  It was a comfortable seventy-six degrees inside, and they both knew it, but he was more than willing to play the game. His blue eyes gleaming in anticipation, he murmured, “We can’t have that. We need to light a fire.”

  Braced for him to grab her, to haul her close and lay a brain-numbing kiss on her, she was caught completely off guard when he lifted his hand and simply traced the curve of her mouth with a touch that was as light as a whisper. Just that easily, he made her throb.

  Stunned, she lifted dazed eyes to his.

  Smiling gently, he leaned down and nuzzled her ear, then trailed his mouth down the smooth column of her throat. Between one heartbeat and the next, she would have sworn her temperature spiked twenty degrees. Suddenly boneless, she leaned weakly against him. “Oh, my.”

  Growling low in his throat in approval, he gathered her close. How could he have known she was so sensitive? Did she have any idea what that did to a man? Knowing that he only had to touch her to make her burn? Nuzzle her neck to turn her to putty in his arms? He wanted her, dammit. Right here, right now, so badly that his teeth ached. Enough with the games, the teasing. He just wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to bed and lose himself in her.

  But she’d had a hell of a day, and he couldn’t rush her. Not this first time when he wanted her soft and melting in his arms and any thought of the outside world far, far away. He wanted to make her forget. For tonight, at least, he needed her to think of nothing but him and what he could do to her with a kiss, a caress, the warmth of his breath on her naked skin.

  So he kept his hands gentle and his kisses butterfly soft, and couldn’t ever remember needing a woman more Outside, snow drifted soundlessly down, but inside, there was nothing but Lizzie, nothing but the fire he built in her with a patience he never would have thought himself capable of.

  When they moved to her bedroom, her bed, he couldn’t have said. Lost in the touch and taste and feel of each other, they just seemed to drift that way without any conscious effort. Clothes melted away, senses blurred, and he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t wanted her like this .bare and beautiful, aching, restless, flushed, her eyes heavylidded and dark with passion. His own needs tearing at him, he kissed his way down her throat, over the graceful slope of her shoulder, the curve of her breast, and lower still, learning the slender lines of her body, steeping her in pleasure until she moaned.

  And still, he kept a tight rein on his own needs and liked to think he was in control. Then she reached for him, stroked slow, knowing hands over him, and he realized too late that he’d been fooling himself all along where she was concerned. He had no more control over the need that sparked between them than she did. She only had to touch him to tie him in knots, move under him to completely destroy him.

  And she knew it. He saw the knowledge in her eyes, in the curve of the seductive smile that curled just the corners of her mouth. Her eyes locking with his in the darkness, she skimmed her hands over the hard angles and planes of his body with a touch that was as soft as a promise and he was helpless to do anything but groan.

  Delighted, Elizabeth only just then realized how much she needed to know that she could make this man, who was so sure of himself with other women, weak with need for her. She wanted to be the one he reached for in his sleep, ached for in his dreams, called out for when what was left of his control shattered. Murmuring his name, she pulled his mouth down to hers for a long, passionate kiss that went on and on and on.

  She’d never known loving could be so easy. He’d told her they needed to light a fire, and he had. But it wasn’t a hot, raging forest fire; instead, it was a slow banked fire that warmed and heated a deep need inside her. Shuddering softly, she moved under him, sweet demand pulling at her, and took him inside.

  In the darkness his eyes met hers, and an emotion she couldn’t name filled her heart to overflowing. Defenseless, tears welled in her eyes and spilled over her lashes. With a quiet murmur, he kissed them away, then he was moving, stroking the fire, feeding it. Before they could do anything but gasp, they were consumed by the flames.

  Chapter 9

  Sprawled on her stomach and hugging more than her share of the covers, Elizabeth slept like a whipped puppy She was worn out, poor baby, Zeke thought with a grin, and knew exactly how she felt. They’d spent the night reaching for each other, touching and stroking and loving each other until they were both spent. She’d drained every ounce of energy out of him, turned him inside out and made him forget his own name. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, but the lady wasn’t going to get any complaints out of him. It had been the most incredible night of his life.

  The portable phone on the nightstand rang then, shattering the quiet of the morning. Elizabeth didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash. Amused, Zeke could only marvel at her. She slept like the dead, but after last night he knew he only had to nuzzle the back of her neck to have her wide awake and reaching for him. For all of two seconds he actually considered that, but she was tired. And after the difficult events of yesterday, she needed her sleep.

  Before the phone could ring again, he leaned across her and picked it up. “Hello?” he said quietly.

  “I was hoping you would answer,” Nick said in his ear. “How’s Elizabeth?”

  Frowning, Zeke checked the clock on the nightstand. It was barely six-thirty—dawn was still a promise on the eastern horizon. Nick didn’t call at that hour to shoot the breeze. “Sleeping. We’ve got more trouble, haven’t we?”

  “Napoleon’s body was found. At least I think it’s him,” he amended roughly. “It’s hard to tell. The son of a bitch mutilated him. He’s in pieces, Zeke ”

  Just as Elizabeth’s tormentor had said. Swearing soft and low, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stalked naked over to the far window. “And you need Lizzie to identify him.”

  It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact, one Nick didn’t deny. “I’m not any happier about putting her through that than you are, but she knows that wolf better than anyone.”

  He had a point, but that didn’t make Zeke like it any better “Where’d you find him?”

  “Out on Hawk Road by the old Larkin place. Looks like someone just tossed him out on the side of the road without even stopping. One of my deputies came across him about three this morning. It’s not a pretty sight, Zeke.”

  No, he didn’t imagine it was. And as much as he hated it, there was no way he was going to be able to shield Elizabeth from it. Not this time. There was no doubt the remains were Napoleon’s, but a formal ID had to be made for the record. He wasn’t taking any chances that the jerk who did this would get off on a technicality when he finally went to trial because he and Nick hadn’t done their jobs.

  Resigned, he said tersely, “I’ll bring her in in about an hour.”

  He’d planned to spoil her with breakfast in bed, then afterward, make love to her until they were both too weak to move, but that wasn’t possible now. She would want to know immediately that Napoleon had finally been found, then there would be no stopping her. As much as it would hurt her, she’d race into town as soon as he told her the news.

  Knowing that, he didn’t wake her then, but let her sleep while he grabbed a quick shower. Dressed and shaved, he returned to the bedroom twenty minutes later to find her just where he’d left her, dead to the world. Given the chance, he would have crawled right back in beside her. Instead, he sat on the side of the bed and gently swept her tousled honey-colored hair back from her face, his fingers lightly skimming over her. That was all it took to draw her from sleep.

  Moaning softly
, her eyes still closed, she stretched and curled toward him in a sensuous move that seemed to suck all the air right out of his lungs. Swallowing a groan, he caught her hand when she blindly reached for him. “Lizzie? Wake up, honey. We need to talk.”

  At his rough growl, her eyes flew open, and hot, vivid memories of the night came rushing back in a flood. Sweet madness. There was no other way to describe it. She’d never been so...insatiable...with a man in her life, but before she could be embarrassed, before the awkwardness of the morning after could set in, she noted his clothes, his freshly shaved jaw, his somber expression, and all thoughts of the loving they’d shared flew right out of her head. He looked that grim only when something was seriously wrong.

  Alarmed, she sat up, clutching the covers to her breast, and she knew. After listening to the vicious message on her answering machine last night, she’d known Napoleon’s killer wouldn’t be able to resist torturing her with the wolf’s bloody remains for long. “Napoleon’s body’s been found, hasn’t it?”

  Not surprised that she’d guessed, he nodded. “Nick called. He needs you to come into the office and identify him.”

  “Where?” she choked.

  “Out on Hawk Road.”

  He started to say more, only to hesitate, and she knew there was more. “What? You might as well tell me the rest. I’ll have to know eventually, anyway, and if it’s bad, I’d rather deal with it all at once.”

  “The body’s been mutilated,” he said finally, bluntly. “This won’t be easy for you, sweetheart.”

  She flinched, the images that came to mind turning her blood to ice. The monster had carried through on every one of his threats so far. So what was next on his agenda? Coming after her?

  She shivered at the thought and was furious with herself for the weakness. The man was a devil, a treacherous bastard who took pleasure in murdering animals and threatening anyone whose views were different from his own. There was no way she was giving a piece of trash like that the power to terrify her.