He was surprised she’d remembered that conversation. “She was getting into trouble, but it was more than that. My father-in-law, Ellen’s father, didn’t want—” He hesitated. Anne might as well know, in case Laurel ever mentioned her grandfather. “After Ellen passed away he decided he didn’t want anything to do with Laurel. She wasn’t a blood relative and he disowned her.”
Anne gasped. “His own granddaughter?”
He nodded. He could still feel the rage swelling inside him. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to beat the crap out of the older man. Only his respect for Ellen’s memory had kept him from attacking her father.
“Does Laurel know?” she asked.
“I don’t think she’s figured it out,” he said. “He didn’t come to her birthday party, but I told her he was out of town on business. I bought a gift and said it was from him.” He shrugged. “That was probably a dumb idea, but I couldn’t tell her that her grandfather didn’t want anything to do with her. She would never understand. I’d already started the move to Colorado. What he said that day convinced me that getting away was the best thing for both of us. Even if Laurel doesn’t believe it right now.”
“She’ll understand,” Anne said. She leaned closer and smiled up at him. “One day she’ll realize she has a wonderful father who loves her very much.”
“I haven’t been much of a father at all,” he said, turning away from her. “After Ellen was killed in a car accident, I had a hard time dealing with her death. I pulled away from everything, including her.”
“I’m sure she understands.”
“Dammit, she was eleven. How could she understand?” He pushed off the rock and stood up. “I don’t understand. She’s a stranger, Anne. I have a thirteen-year-old daughter and I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking most of the time. She hates me for taking her away from her friends. Her grandfather has turned his back on her. She wants to live with you in Houston. The best news I’ve heard all day is that her real father is dead. I was glad when you said that. I don’t need any more competition. What the hell kind of bastard does that make me?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking away. He’d barely gone two steps when he felt her hand on his arm.
“Wait, Jake.”
He froze in his tracks. Her palm burned his skin. The scent of her body, the soft fragrance of her perfume, filled his senses.
“You’re a good man,” she said.
“Not by a long shot.”
“You are,” she insisted, moving closer. “You’ve done a fine job with Laurel. She couldn’t turn out to be as sweet and loving as she is if you weren’t decent.”
He spun toward her so quickly she didn’t have time to move back. In the moonlight he could see the shape of her head and body, but not the individual features. He couldn’t see the expression on her face or read what was in her eyes.
He told himself he was a fool, that it wasn’t about anything other than sex and that come morning he would regret acting on the impulse. But that didn’t stop him.
“If I’m so decent,” he said, grabbing her arms and hauling her up against him, “why can’t I stop thinking about this?” He lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter 7
His kiss was as sweet and hot as the Texas summer. His firm mouth softened when it touched hers. He moved his lips back and forth as if testing her, then his hold on her arms loosened. Anne knew if she pulled back, he would let her go in an instant. She told herself that she should pull back, or at the very least be angry with him. But she didn’t, and she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Not when every inch of her body cried out for his touch. Not when she trembled within his gentle embrace. She had longed for this from the moment they’d first met. Damn that cowboy curse.
But even as she leaned against his broad chest until her breasts flattened against him she knew it was more than her weakness for cowboys. It was her weakness specifically for this man.
One of his hands reached up to cup the back of her head, the other moved down to the small of her back. She raised her arms to rest them on his shoulders and buried her fingers in his hair. The coffee-colored strands felt like cool silk, contrasting with the warmth of the night and the heat of their bodies.
He angled his head and pressed more firmly on her mouth. She tried to hold back, but it was no use. Her body clamored for him. Before she could think that she shouldn’t, her lips parted, begging for his invasion.
He didn’t disappoint her. His tongue swept past her lips, pausing only to tease the delicate skin with a quick swipe. A shudder rippled through her. At the first brush, a moan started low in her throat. His hand on her back moved lower to the curve of her derriere. The tiniest hint of pressure caused her to flex her hips forward. Her hips and stomach cradled his pelvis. The rigid proof of his excitement surged against her.
She told herself this was wrong, or at the very least, insane. She barely knew this man. There was already so much going on between them. Sex would only complicate a difficult situation. But when his tongue circled through her mouth, she ceased to care about anything but the sensations he created.
She clutched at his shoulders. His fingers touched her jaw then moved to her ear and traced the curves there. He pulled back from her mouth and licked her lips around and around. Her breasts ached with need. Between her thighs, the dampness grew as her cotton panties clung to her.
He lowered his arm so both his hands cupped her rear. He squeezed and pulled her against him. She rotated her hips, needing more, so much more. He kissed her jaw, her neck, down to the first button of her shirt. His hot breath seared her skin. She arched her head back, begging silently for more. She needed this. It had been too long. More than that, no one had ever made her feel this way before.
“Annie,” he murmured against her skin. He spoke the word as if it was an endearment. He’d never called her Annie before. Maybe he didn’t hate her.
Oh, God, he was Laurel’s father. It was all too complicated. She had to stop. They had to stop. Now, before it became too late.
He touched her breasts. She bit her lip hard to keep from moaning aloud. His big hands cupped her sensitive flesh, taking their weight in his palms. He brushed his thumbs over her hard nipples. Through the blouse and bra, the contact burned. And it was too late to think.
Even as he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, he stepped back the way they’d come, bringing her with him. As he pulled the thin cotton free of her skirt’s waistband, her thighs touched the rock they’d sat on. Jake grabbed her by the waist and raised her up onto the flat surface, then he pulled off her blouse and lay it down behind her.
Her thighs parted and he stepped between them. His denim jeans rubbed against her bare skin. She told herself this wasn’t happening, but she knew it was. Maybe it was those damn jeans, she thought as she reached for his shirt. She’d always been a sucker for a man in jeans. And his were button fly, the style that made her weak in the knees.
She quickly worked his shirt buttons, but before she could touch his chest, he reached for the center clasp on her bra. She caught her breath in anticipation.
He bent down and kissed her again. This time there were no preliminaries. He plunged his tongue inside, sweeping around her mouth, tasting every part of her, letting her taste him. She closed her lips in a tight O and sucked. With her hands on his shirt, she felt his muscles stiffen. He groaned. His fingers toyed with her nipples, flicking quickly over the hardened tips until her gasp released him and he, too, let her go.
He pulled back and opened the clasp. Gently he drew the bra back. The cups caught on her nipples. He bent over and with his tongue, freed each side. Then he drew the straps down her arms, leaving her bare to him. He stared for so long, she started to feel self-conscious. She glanced down and saw the way the moonlight reflected off her skin. Her nipples were dark tips on alabaster skin. In the darkness, her freckles didn’t show. She almost felt beautiful before him.
He moved closer and his groin brus
hed against her damp panties. She wanted him, wanted this, more than she’d ever wanted anything. He lowered her back onto the rock. Her shirt protected her from the rough surface. He kissed her mouth, then licked her ear. He trailed a wet line down her collarbone toward her breasts. She arched up toward him, impatient for his touch.
He cupped her in his hands and held her still for his tender assault. He licked the sensitive nubs over and over until her world consisted only of fiery sensation and a need that burned so hot, it threatened to consume her. She rocked her hips against him. Her hands clutched at the rock, but she couldn’t get any hold on the stone. She eached for his warm chest and felt a light dusting of hair. She rubbed her fingers against him, finding the flat male nipples and teasing him as he teased her. He punished her with a gentle bite. She moaned.
Everything felt perfect. The night. The heat of the rock below her, the fire of Jake’s body above her. His hands and tongue continued to ply their magic. She wanted him, she could feel how he wanted her.
He nibbled along her midriff to the waistband of her skirt. She raised her hips. He reached down and began pushing the filmy fabric up her legs. His hands were hot on her thighs. His work-roughened skin grated deliciously. She could hear the soft rasping sound and it excited her more. She brought her arms back to brace herself and banged her elbow. The sharp pain made her cry out.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff with passion.
“I just hit the rock. It’s being outside. I haven’t done anything this wild since…” Since she was seventeen. Since Bobby and doing it in the back of his pickup. Since she got pregnant.
Remembering that was like being doused in cold water. She struggled to sit up. What on earth was she doing? Was she crazy? They both had to be. His hand continued to climb her legs. His thumb brushed perilously close to the apex of her thighs and she stiffened against the pleasure that flooded her.
“Jake, stop.”
“Why?” The night caught the flare of his lazy, self-satisfied smile. He touched her panties, and she knew he felt the moisture. “You feel ready enough to me.”
Oh, she was ready. Too ready, and far too willing. “We don’t have any protection.”
“Is that all?” He bent down and nibbled the inside of her knee. “I haven’t been with anyone in over two years. About six months ago I had to give blood to a friend. They checked and I’m fine.”
“I’m okay that way, too,” she said. “What I meant was, I’m not on any birth control. I’m right in the middle of my cycle and probably as fertile as a rabbit.”
He reacted as if she’d slapped him. He straightened up and glared down at her. The moonlight caressed the skin exposed by his open shirt. She wanted to touch him and feel his warmth again, but he held himself stiffly, as if in terrible pain. She folded her arms over her bare breasts.
“Jake?”
“You don’t have to worry about getting pregnant,” he said grimly. “I’m the reason we had to adopt a child instead of having one of our own. I’m sterile.”
Now it was her turn to be shocked. Sterile? She stared at him. She’d never given much thought to why Jake and Ellen had adopted. She supposed that if she had, she would have assumed it was Ellen’s fault. Which was foolish. She had no way of knowing why they couldn’t have a child.
He stood silently before her, his chest rising and falling with each breath. She had time to become aware of herself, of what they were doing. All she wanted to do was put her bra and shirt back on and escape to the safety of Becky Sue’s mobile home. She didn’t want to be out here like this. It was a huge mistake. But she couldn’t just walk away and leave Jake in such emotional pain. She could feel it radiating from him. It showed in the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his chin. He was waiting for her to scorn him. She had to tell him it didn’t matter to her, although inside she ached for him.
He was such a proud man. Finding out he couldn’t father children must have devastated him.
He started to turn away. Without giving herself time to think, Anne reached out and grabbed him. The only thing she could reach was his belt buckle. She pulled him hard against her. He moved forward reluctantly. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, but he wouldn’t want to hear her words. There was nothing she could say, so when he was close enough, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to his chest.
He tasted all male with a combination of sweat and the unique flavor of his skin. What started out to be comfort rapidly became something else. She kissed him gently at first, moving her mouth across his chest with hard, hot kisses, then she began to lick him. She found his nipples and caressed them until his breathing became as rapid as her own.
His hands reached for her breasts. He touched her sensitive skin, kneading and rubbing until she quivered again with need. She’d had a half-formed notion that this was for him, to help take away his pain, but the second he reached under her skirt and touched her moist center, all thoughts of altruism fled, washed away by a flood of passion.
He jerked off her panties and pulled her skirt up around her waist. She undid his belt buckle and reached for the buttons on the fly of his jeans. To torment them both, she worked slowly, savoring the feel of his hardness against the back of her hand. Her knuckles brushed him with each button and his erection flexed at her touch.
At last he was free. She stroked his smooth length. He felt hotter here. Hard and ready. He quickly pushed down his jeans and briefs and moved between her thighs.
The velvet tip of him rubbed against her center, causing her muscles to clench rhythmically. When she was panting and desperately close to her release, he entered her.
She hadn’t had a lover in several years and she was tight inside. He pushed forward slowly, stretching unused spaces, forcing dormant feelings to flare with sensation. She braced herself on her elbows and watched him move in and out of her body. She glanced at his face. He was looking at her. Their eyes locked.
They didn’t speak, they didn’t have to. Communication flowed between them as if they’d spent their whole lives waiting for this moment. Her hips flexed in time with his thrusts. She was closer, so much closer, but not close enough. She wanted more. He reached between them. With his thumb he gently stroked her. Up and down, double time to the movement of her hips. She felt him tightening, getting ready to explode and it was enough to send her to the edge.
He breathed her name and made her fall. Her muscles convulsed in release. It went on and on, forever it seemed. She felt his final thrust, heard the guttural cry, then he was still. He pulled her up against him, cradling her in his arms. She listened to the thundering of a heartbeat and wondered if it was his or hers. Perhaps now they only had one heart between them.
Reality gradually intruded and she could hear the night creatures around them, feel the hard rock jabbing her bare behind. She kissed Jake’s chest and tasted him, but now her tongue was coated with the bitterness of regret. She sighed.
“That sounded pretty serious,” he said, placing one finger under her chin and forcing her to look at him.
She flushed and was glad the darkness hid it from view. “You’re Laurel’s father.”
“I know.”
“This was all a mistake. I don’t even know you. And you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” He dropped his hand to his side. “I don’t trust you.”
“We just made love and you don’t trust me?”
He stepped away. She pulled her skirt down and reached behind her for her bra.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t sound any happier than she did. “It was just hormones or circumstance.” He pulled up his jeans and started fastening them. “We’ve both been without for a long time.”
She slipped off the rock and grabbed her shirt. “So it was like taking a drink of water because you’re thirsty?”
“Yeah.”
The warm lover who had touched her was gone. Even his voice was diffe
rent. Jake Masters was back. The man who, despite what he said, really didn’t like her. And she’d just made love to him. In the desert. About fifty yards from Becky Sue’s mobile home. On a rock. She wanted to die.
“I can’t believe we did this,” she said frantically. She tried to button her blouse, but her fingers weren’t working. “We’ve never even been out on a date. I’ve known you less than two weeks.”
“This isn’t any easier for me,” he growled. “Dammit, woman, I was married for fourteen years and I was never once unfaithful to Ellen.”
“Golly, maybe you deserve an award for that,” she snapped. “Blame it all on me, why don’t you? That seems to be your favorite method for dealing with your problems anyway. Everything with Laurel is my fault, so make this my fault, too.”
She was close to crying, so she clamped her mouth shut. By concentrating very hard, she managed to do up her shirt and stuff it into her skirt. She was about to walk away when he touched her arm.
“What?” she snapped.
Silently he held out his hand. He had her panties. The white cotton contrasted with his tanned skin. She covered her face with her hands.
“I just want to die,” she whispered.
He pulled her close. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “We both reacted. I’ve never done anything like this, either. I’m not blaming you. It’s no one’s fault, Anne. Maybe it was for the best. We were both wondering about it. Now we know. It’ll make the next two months easier for both of us. All we have to do is to pretend it never happened.”
She stepped back and took her underpants. While he turned his back, she slipped them on. He was right. They had both wondered how it would be, and now they knew. But he was wrong, too. This wasn’t going to make it easier. She knew that as surely as she knew he’d called her Anne again, instead of Annie.
*
They left Paradise early the next morning. Becky Sue got up before dawn and baked cinnamon rolls. After she’d filled them with coffee and the gooey confections, she gave them fifteen minutes of advice about the local highway.
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