by Seton, Cora
He hit send before he could stop himself, wondering all the while what game he thought he was playing. Melanie was everything he needed. There’d be no fuss from her when the deal was done and it was time to walk away.
Helena was a wild card whose next move he couldn’t predict. Was that what attracted him to her—his affinity for trouble? She might remind him of Heather, but she was a total unknown.
Colt took a swig of beer, picked up the remote and clicked the TV on.
This time when the laptop pinged, it was Melanie writing back. He dropped the remote again.
Colt,
Sounds good. I’ve attached all the necessary information for you to purchase my plane tickets. See you on the 7th.
Melanie
Now that was a woman he could deal with, Colt thought. Why couldn’t everyone be as sensible as she was? If Helena wrote again he wouldn’t answer, he decided, and closed the laptop’s lid with a snap. But as he picked up the remote and turned up the volume on the television he knew he was fooling himself.
He would read it. And he just might write back.
I’m not engaged yet.
Heather’s heart plummeted as she hid in the bathroom at her grandparents’ condo and read through the latest e-mail from Colt. After she had answered his last message, she had put away her phone during her flight and hadn’t allowed herself to look at it again until she was alone. She’d been so sure he wouldn’t answer at all she’d thought she’d never want to look at it again. He’d answered, but that was little consolation. Not engaged yet but nearly there. That meant someone else had answered his wife-wanted ad. Someone more suitable.
Fear twisted her insides. She was losing him. Her references to the past hadn’t snared his interest. Neither had her promise of future excitement. What else could she do, tell him who she really was?
No. Definitely not.
Tell him she’d take half the money to act as his wife?
No, Colt had never been thrifty.
Sext him?
Heather bit her lip, her face warming with the audacity of the idea. Could she do that? Colt sounded awfully matter-of-fact these days. Had his time in the military hardened him until he didn’t even care about the physical side of life anymore?
She stifled a laugh. Colt? Turn his back on sex? She doubted it.
But how did one go about seducing a man over the Internet—a man she hadn’t seen in years? She thought back to their one time together. Colt had loved every bit of their fumbling lovemaking. So had she—until guilt kicked in afterward. What she remembered most was the time he’d lavished on her breasts. Even in high school they’d been ample. They’d embarrassed her until Colt got his hands on them. He’d made her see how glorious they were—at least in his eyes.
She looked at her phone and then down at her cherry red holiday sweater.
She couldn’t.
Could she?
Today she’d followed Camila’s advice and ditched her bland work pants for a pair of jeans that hugged her curves. Her supple leather boots completed the outfit. She’d been relieved when she’d stood in front of the mirror this morning to see she hadn’t lost her looks.
Now she shrugged at her reflection. Maybe she could do it. She tapped a finger on the counter. Might as well give it a try. What could it hurt, after all? Colt didn’t know she was Helena, and as much attention as he’d lavished on them twelve years ago, there was no way he could identify her from her breasts.
Making up her mind, she yanked off her sweater and tank top then unstrapped her bra and shrugged it off. Looking at herself frankly in the mirror, she was happy to see the years hadn’t left their mark on her body yet. She tucked one arm under her chest to plump the girls out and held her phone in her other hand, aiming it at her reflection. She snapped a couple of shots.
“Heather? What are you doing in there?” A sharp rap at the door startled her and she almost dropped the phone when she heard her mother’s voice.
“Shit!”
“Heather? What’s going on?”
She rolled her eyes. Seriously—there were two other bathrooms. “I’m taking pictures of my breasts and sending them to a stranger!”
“Ha, ha. Hurry up—Grandma’s got dinner on the table already.”
“Be right there, Mom.” Stifling the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl, Heather flicked through the photos, chose one, cropped it so that her face didn’t show and sent it to Colt with the message, Glad you aren’t engaged yet—sending you this would be wrong if you were. Good-night.
Maybe that would get his attention.
Chapter Four
‡
He’d opened Helena’s e-mail.
He’d clicked on her attachment, too.
Now Colt gazed at a pair of breasts that begged to be touched, kissed, fondled—
Hell.
He shifted on the bed, surprised by the sudden rush of libido the image conjured up. Women’s breasts had been the last thing on his mind these past few months. He was no saint. He’d seen his fair share of them and normally he had no issue maintaining control around a woman’s body, but he hadn’t been expecting these, not in an e-mail from sentimental Helena, and now he was half-hard and distinctly uncomfortable.
He pushed away the laptop, got up and paced the room. Coming back, he tugged the computer closer and took another look before pushing it away again.
He didn’t plan to meet Helena, let alone fool around with her, but it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and the image filling his screen was definitely eye-catching. Why had he thought Helena had augmented her bust? These were obviously natural.
He looked again. Narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute. Colt’s sharp gaze traveled upward to Helena’s neck. In the photo she’d sent earlier, the ridges of her collar bone had been so sharp he’d noticed them before he’d been distracted by her similarity to Heather. In this photo, they weren’t nearly so prominent. Intrigued, he toggled between the two and spotted something else: a small mole just below the hollow of her neck on Helena’s newest photo that wasn’t there on the original one.
He shut his eyes a moment, remembering another woman with a similar mole. Heather had squirmed when he kissed the small brown mark at the base of her neck all those years ago, and her movements had brought one nipple into his reach. Colt had bent to kiss that rosy target and they were off and running.
He found more differences between the photos but they were too subtle to confirm anything. Maybe Helena’s first photo had been retouched while this newest one hadn’t. Most men would have been so focused on her breasts they wouldn’t have noticed anything else. Unfortunately for her, he’d been trained to look for details in every aspect of his job.
Gazing at the two photos again, Colt stiffened when he realized something he should have known from the start. Helena had snapped the photo of her reflection in a mirror she was standing quite close to. Behind her was a beige wall that was out of focus.
And if he wasn’t mistaken those were photographs hanging on it. Curious, he got to work.
It took him some time to fiddle with software and blow up the images so he could see them better. When he did, he sat back and swore, disbelief coursing through him.
The images were fuzzy at this resolution but he recognized one face even after all these years. Audrey Ward.
Heather’s mother.
Which meant those breasts probably belonged to the woman he’d once loved.
And walked away from over a decade ago.
No wonder he couldn’t get Helena’s e-mails out of his mind. No wonder she had a mole right where Heather had one. Helena was Heather.
Which meant Heather wanted him. But why all the subterfuge? Why the fake photo, for God’s sake? Unless she was afraid he wouldn’t answer her e-mail if he knew it was her.
Which was fair. As far as Heather knew, he’d walked out of her life and never looked back. She probably thought he hadn’t loved her and had used the excuse of his father’s
death to leave her behind. Maybe she thought he’d already gotten what he wanted: a quick lay in the back seat of her mother’s car. Had she felt used all these years? Regret washed through him.
Now she was giving him another chance, and he admired the bravery it must have taken to reach out to him again. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t married already. Had she… waited for him?
He discarded that idea. She’d probably loved and lost several times over by now. Maybe she’d had an unhappy first marriage. Maybe she was married still, and simply curious about him. That could explain the fake name, too.
He sure as hell hoped he was wrong about that, though. Colt stopped himself. No matter the reason that she got in touch, he still couldn’t be with her. It hadn’t been right back then and it wouldn’t be right now.
He closed the laptop. He simply wouldn’t answer her message. Standing up, he paced the small room, but before he knew it he was back on the bed. He opened the laptop and pulled up her photo again. God, she had the most amazing breasts.
Little minx. She knew exactly what she was doing when she referenced the Impala and sent this photo, didn’t she? She knew damn well he’d think back to the one time they’d made love. She was probably laughing at him right now—glorying in her ability to knock him off-kilter.
Two could play that game.
His resolutions forgotten, Colt had his pants down in a flash, his boxer-briefs, too. A couple of strokes had him standing to attention. It was awkward taking the photo, but after a couple of tries he got what he wanted.
He hesitated before he pressed send. He didn’t intend to follow through with Heather. Shouldn’t life have taught him to avoid trouble by now?
Hell, no. Apparently it hadn’t, and as messed up as things were at the moment, why not throw caution to the wind and really start a fire? He quickly added a message.
Helena
I’m glad I’m not engaged, either, because if I was, sending THIS would be really, really wrong. Enjoy.
Colt
He pressed send and laughed out loud for the first time in months. He pulled up Heather’s photo again.
That was a fantastic pair of tits.
And if he remembered correctly, the woman behind them was pretty special, too.
Heather felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and tried to resist the urge to take a peek. Her grandmother was carving the roast beef she’d cooked for dinner. The rest of them passed around dishes of potatoes, beans, salad, rolls, and more. She fingered her pocket under the lacy tablecloth as Richard began to dig into his dinner. Her mother debated her grandfather over a program on World War II they’d been watching on television before the meal was served. No one was paying any attention to her.
She slid the phone out of her pocket, but kept it under the table so no one else could see. She tapped in her security code, called up her e-mail program, read Colt’s message, and tapped on the image to take a look.
Her snort of laughter and shock made everyone turn her way. “Sorry,” she said, holding back more giggles as tears sprung to her eyes. “Sorry. Swallowed something wrong.”
“You haven’t even started eating,” her mother protested.
Heather pushed back abruptly and stood up. “Be right back.”
She made a dash for the bathroom, and exploded in laughter when she slammed the door shut behind her. What if someone had looked over her shoulder and seen that photo?
“Oh, Colt—”
She pulled up the image again and this time took a good, long look. Hell, he’d always been crazy. And hung like a horse to boot. The one time he’d pressed inside her she’d felt so good. So damn good.
She’d been with other men since then, but no one had grabbed onto her heart like Colt had way back then. None of them had matched his enthusiastic lovemaking either. Going back into her correspondence she pulled up his ad and looked at the photo he’d included in it.
So handsome after all these years. Where once he’d been a lean and rangy teenager, now Colt was all man. He was sharp in his dress uniform and his torso was trim. His eyes were wary, but his bearing was confident. He wasn’t a man to toy with, so why was she toying with him?
Because she couldn’t help it. Besides, he was toying with her too. She flipped back to the image of a certain attention-getting portion of his anatomy and a shiver of need whispered through her. It had been a long time. A really long time. When Richard was young she’d leave him with her mother from time to time and go out on a date, but as he grew older, she’d pulled back from trying to find a new relationship. She didn’t want to confuse him. He was such a loving boy and she knew he’d get his feelings hurt if a man came into their lives and then left again.
She wished to God Colt knew about Richard and had helped her raise him. She wished they were the kind of family she’d always wanted to have.
She couldn’t get all sappy now, though. What should she do?
Camila would know, she decided. Her friend was fearless. Heather texted her quickly.
I’m in touch with Colt, but he doesn’t know it’s me. I just flashed him my tits and he showed me his…well, you know. Now what do I do?
The answer came back more quickly than she expected.
Talk sexy to him!
Heather thought fast. What should she say? The seconds ticked by as she discarded line after line as too silly or too over-the-top. She was out of practice. Heck, she’d never been in practice. Finally, she began to type.
I thought I told you good-night, but you don’t appear to be sleeping. Do you know how to use that thing or are you all flash and no fire?
She splashed a little cold water on her face after she sent the e-mail, and was preparing to leave the bathroom when her phone chimed again.
I know how to use it. Wish you were here so I could show you.
Heat rushed through her. Damn it, how was she supposed to get through a family dinner like this? She was hot and… wet and wishing he was here, too.
Hold that thought. Gotta go for a while. Be back in a few hours.
She almost laughed out loud again when she pressed send. That ought to get a reaction.
Ping.
You’re killing me. I’ll be here.
Chapter Five
‡
One hour stretched into two and then three. Colt found himself flipping through the channels on the television over and over again, but he couldn’t concentrate on any of the shows. Was Heather coming back at all or had she played him like a fine violin? When the time stretched out too long he found himself doing an Internet search. Heather Ward’s name came up in a few links and when he switched to images there she was—not the teenager she’d been when they were together, but a mature, beautiful woman whose clear, direct gaze pulled him straight into the past.
She could have been his wife. She could have been the woman he grew old with, if only fate hadn’t sent them into a tailspin.
When he couldn’t bear to look at her any longer, he flipped to Melanie’s e-mails and examined her image again. She was quite pretty with full lips, dramatic eyes, and dark hair pulled back into a long French braid that rested over one shoulder. She looked modern and capable, her stance upright and her smile friendly.
She was by far the more appropriate choice for a fake wife, but he didn’t feel like sending Melanie a dirty text.
His flirtation with Heather didn’t mean he wouldn’t go through with his business arrangement with Melanie, though. Heather couldn’t blame him, either. He’d been up front about wanting a fake wife. He’d told her point blank he was practically engaged.
And then he’d exposed himself via e-mail. Classy.
A chime had him focusing on his laptop. Heather. Finally.
What are you wearing?
Heat spiked through him. They were going to do this, were they? He sat back down on the bed, his flash of interest cooling slightly as he faced the truth. He didn’t intend to be with Heather, as much as he wanted to be. This was wrong.
&nb
sp; Still, he typed, Nothing. Didn’t you see my photo?
He waited for her response. In reality he was still in jeans, boxer-briefs and a shirt. He’d kicked his boots off, but wore socks—this was January in Montana after all.
By the way, he added. Wouldn’t it be easier to switch to chat? Better yet, video?
Chat’s okay—not video, she answered. Colt chuckled. Heather didn’t want to expose herself. A few moments later, his laptop chimed with the information that Helena wanted to chat with him. I don’t buy that you’re naked, she wrote. Take it all off. I want to have my way with you.
He laughed and settled in. Heather was just as feisty as always and now their conversation could proceed at a quicker pace. I thought that was my line.
You thought wrong. Are you nekkid yet?
Colt wavered, knowing he shouldn’t proceed with this game. He was playing with fire.
Playing with Heather’s heart.
Still, online sex with the woman who’d featured in his dreams for years? What red-blooded man could resist? He reached out to answer and hesitated.
He should sign off. He should stop this before they went too far.
He didn’t want to.
Colt gave in with a growl. What the hell—in for a penny, in for a pound. Why not have a little fun before he went home and faced the music? Maybe this was just what they both needed to get each other out of their systems.
He stripped down, strode to the heat register and turned it up, then climbed onto the bed, plumping the pillows behind him and bunching the covers around him to ward off the chill.
Yep. You?
Nope. I’m wearing a push-up bra, garters, silky stockings and mile-high cherry red heels.
I like it. He liked it a lot. Colt toggled the keys and pulled up both the image of Helena’s breasts and the larger photo he’d found online of Heather fully dressed.
Another message chimed. I’m letting you touch my breasts.
Too late to stop this now. I’m pulling the edge of your bra cups down and taking your luscious nipples into my mouth, tugging and teasing them until you moan, he wrote back.
