He sat at the opposite end of the table at dinner that night, although she felt his gaze on her whenever she turned to talk to Levi. And when she helped clear the table and load the dishwasher, he didn't take the opportunity to escape. When she walked back into the dining room, he was still sitting in his chair, staring into his coffee.
Shea pushed back her chair and stood up. "Dev, why don't you and Carly go sit on the porch? You probably want to tell her what Ben found today, don't you?"
Devlin scowled at his sister. "Knock it off, Shea."
"Knock what off?" Shea's face was the picture of innocence. "I figured you wouldn't want to be interrupted."
"Yeah, right." But he stood up and looked at her. "You want to hear what Ben found today?"
"I could hardly refuse such a gracious offer," she answered sweetly.
Carly thought she saw a dull red flush under his tan. "You want some coffee?" he asked.
"No, thanks."
He tossed her a jacket, and she realized it was the same one she'd worn the night before. She almost tossed it back at him, but instead she wrapped it around herself. If he could act completely unaffected by what had happened, so could she.
Settling herself on the porch swing, she watched as he leaned against the railing and looked out over the ranch. Dusk was settling, and the last remnants of another spectacular sunset were fading into darkness. "You missed the sunset tonight," she said lightly.
"That's the thing about the Red Rock. There's always tomorrow."
"I'm beginning to see that," she said in a low voice.
Abruptly he straightened and turned to face her. "I love this ranch, Carly. This is my home. Ben found some evidence that we weren't alone up there this morning. Now it's becoming personal."
It was becoming personal because it was affecting his ranch, not because someone was targeting her. A spear of sadness lanced through her, but she told herself to deal with it. She'd known all along that she and Devlin were on opposite sides of the fence. "I've seen how much this ranch means to you," she murmured.
Leaning against the railing, facing her, his eyes became unfocused as he stared into the distance. "It wasn't always that way," he said quietly. "When I was eighteen, I couldn't wait to get away from the Red Rock, away from Cameron."
"Why?"
He smiled, but there was no humor in it. "My father insisted that it was my duty to take over the ranch. I'm not a rancher, but he didn't care. I wanted to go into police work, but he wouldn't even discuss it. That's why I ran away and joined the Air Force. I was an MP, stationed in California."
He turned and stared into the gathering darkness. "That's when I realized how special Cameron really is."
"What happened?" she asked softly.
"Justice wasn't universal in the city. It was only for neat, clean people who lived in neat, clean suburbs. A homeless person was beaten nearly to death near the base, and no one cared. The values I'd been raised with—a person's word is their bond, help your neighbor, protect those weaker than you—were considered signs of weakness where I lived. It was every man for himself. And every woman for herself." Even in the darkness, she saw his mouth tighten.
"Someone hurt you."
His shoulders tightened, then he sighed. "I was a damn fool. Her name was Judy, and she was sophisticated, beautiful, worldly. I was a green kid. I thought she loved me." His mouth tightened again. "It turned out she loved the money she thought I had. Somehow she found out that the Red Rock was the largest ranch in the area. She'd refused to marry me, refused to live in the 'godforsaken wilds of Utah,' as she put it. Then suddenly she changed her mind.
"I was thrilled. I planned a wedding, but just a few days before the big day, I happened to overhear her talking to one of her friends."
She heard the pain his voice as he hesitated. "You don't have to tell me this, Dev."
He turned to face her again. "I want to tell you. I've hurt you, pushing you away, and I want you to understand why."
He came and sat next to her on the swing. "She told her friend that she would marry me, but there was no way in hell she was moving to a stinking ranch in Utah. If I wanted to leave, that would be fine with her. She'd console herself with her generous divorce settlement."
"Oh, Dev," she whispered, covering his hand with hers. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. It hurt at the time, but I got over it." He laced his fingers with hers and held on tight.
His eyes glittered in the moonlight, and she saw the pain and the wariness that were Judy's legacy to him. She wanted to tell him the truth about who she was, share herself with him the way he'd shared himself, but first she needed to take away his pain.
"She was a fool," she said fiercely. "An utter fool."
Before he could say anything else, she pulled his face to hers and took his mouth in a kiss.
* * *
Chapter 14
«^»
She immersed herself in the kiss, determined to take the hurt out of his eyes, vowing to make sure he forgot that Judy existed. Her hands tightened on his face, her fingers rasping against the roughness of his beard. He groaned, deep in his throat, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
She felt the desperation in his grip, the need that he struggled to subdue. But when she slid her arms around him and trailed her mouth down his neck, he shuddered once, then found her mouth with a fury of passion.
Carly felt like she was drowning in his kiss, drowning in the desire that poured out of him. With an inarticulate murmur, he pressed her down onto the swing and covered her body with his. The swing swayed gently beneath them, rocking as Devlin moved against her.
"I tried to stay away from you." He propped himself on his elbows and stared down at her. His face was pale in the moonlight, the angles and planes sharp with passion. His eyes burned into her, igniting a fire inside her, searing her with the raw desire she found in their depths. "I did my best, Carly. You shouldn't have kissed me." He smoothed one hand over her face, his hand trembling but incredibly gentle.
"I needed to kiss you," she said, and she gloried in the fierceness in her voice. "I don't think I've ever needed anything as much." Devlin made her feel whole and complete, in a way she'd never felt before. She wanted, more than anything, to make him feel the same way. "Please don't stop."
He groaned and buried his face in her neck. "I don't think I could stop now if my life depended on it." But when he moved to kiss her again, his mouth was gentle and light.
She understood what he was doing. He was giving her one last chance to say no, a chance to ease away from him. He was giving her a chance to step back and leave Cameron with a part of her heart intact.
But she didn't want to be safe. She didn't want to stop and think about the consequences. She wanted him, and nothing had ever felt so right.
So she wrapped her arms and legs around him and poured herself into the kiss. He hesitated for only a moment, then he responded. Their bodies strained together, their hands touching, caressing, holding. She burrowed her hands under his shirt, needing to touch his skin, needing to feel his heat. She traced his muscles, hard and trembling with need, and let her fingers play in the coarse, soft hair on his chest.
He growled, low in his throat, and tore her shirt out of the waistband of her jeans. Buttons flew as he pulled it apart and found her breasts. She bucked against him as he tugged on her nipples, then shoved the shirt up and took one peak in his mouth.
His hands replaced his tongue on her breasts as he swallowed her gasps with his mouth. Now his tongue swirled against hers, tasting, taking, possessing her. Wave after wave of sensation crashed over her, and she lifted her hips to his, begging for more.
Cool air caressed the bare skin of her chest as Devlin took his hands away and framed her face. His breath hitched as he rested his forehead against hers, his hands tangling in her hair.
"What's wrong?" she whispered in a throaty growl.
"We have to stop," he said, his voice low and tortur
ed.
Her body was stretched taut beneath his, throbbing with need. "Why do we have to stop?" she asked, struggling to focus on his face.
He brushed the hair away from her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Because we're lying on the front porch swing, in view of everyone."
"Oh." Reality crashed down on her, and she remembered where they were. A light shone out of the house window behind them, and although she and Dev were shrouded in darkness, anyone who stepped onto the porch would see them. The light from the bunkhouse was too close, gleaming through the darkness.
She tried to smile. "Another case of bad timing, I guess."
His eyes were still hot with desire, and suddenly he slid off her, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Come with me."
They slipped in the front door of the house and headed for the stairs. There was no one around. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close. "Shea will be working late in her office, my mother went to visit a friend in town and Maria has already gone to bed. No one will see or hear us." His breath tickled the hair on her neck, and she shivered again.
When they stopped at what she knew was his bedroom door, he pushed it open and led her inside. Once the door was closed and locked, he turned to her, but didn't touch her.
"Now no one can interrupt us. There won't be any Dusty or Joe or Levi, there won't be any Melba Corboy. There won't be any excuses. This is your last chance to leave."
She stepped closer to him. "I don't want to leave. Unless you want me to go."
Slowly he trailed his hand over her face, touching, caressing. "I haven't wanted you to go since the first day you drove into Cameron. I've been dreaming about this, about you, since the first time I kissed you, on Melba's front porch. I can't fight it any longer."
"I don't want you to fight it," she said, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Nothing has ever felt so right. Hold me, Dev. Make love to me."
He groaned again as he pulled her against him. "It's hard enough to fight myself, Carly. I can't fight you, too."
Their mouths met again, and the kiss was a vow and a promise. It started out gentle, an exploration of each other, but the fires burned hotter and hotter. Suddenly they had both waited too long. Devlin pulled at her shirt, and the rest of the buttons flew across the room. He skimmed it down her arms, along with her bra, and she stood in front of him, naked from the waist up.
Even in the dim light she saw his eyes darken. "You are so beautiful," he murmured. His hands shook as he unbuttoned her jeans, then pulled them down her legs.
When she reached out to undress him, he kissed her hands then pushed them away. "Let me, this time." His voice was harsh. "If you touch me, this will all be over too quickly. I want it to last forever."
The moonlight from the window dappled his magnificent body with shadows as he stripped away his clothes. His broad chest was solid, hard with muscle. The hair on his chest gleamed dark gold as it tapered down to a narrow line that disappeared into his white briefs. His legs were dusted with the same dark gold hair that covered his chest. And when he pushed the briefs down, she felt herself swallow.
He followed her down onto the bed, then covered her body with his. It took only one touch, one kiss to stoke the fires even higher. Twining herself around him, she tried to touch him everywhere at once.
He moved his hands and his mouth over her, caressing, arousing and tormenting her. When she arched her back, sobbing his name, he reached for a foil packet, then plunged into her. She exploded in a burst of light and heat, grasping his shoulders, trying to pull him even closer. When he shuddered and emptied himself into her, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.
She had no idea how long they lay on the bed, entwined with each other, their hearts pounding. When he tried to move away from her, she tightened her arms. "No," she murmured.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, kissing her neck. He slid onto his side, then pulled her against him. "Good night," he murmured.
She was almost asleep, but she thought she heard him add "love" in a sound that was barely more than a breath.
Devlin woke up with the sun in his eyes the next morning, and he rolled over to avoid it. His hand brushed against something warm and soft, and suddenly he remembered the night before.
Carly lay sleeping next to him; her arm flung over the side of the bed, her hair spread over his pillow. In spite of the fact that they hadn't done much sleeping the night before, he felt himself harden again as he looked at her.
In spite of all his warnings to himself, he and Carly had made love the night before. Many times. And it had been making love, he told himself. He hadn't mistaken the way she'd touched him, the way she'd opened herself to him. And he hadn't been able to stop his heart from caring about her. Slowly he pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck and sweeping his hand down her thigh.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. For a moment, he saw confusion in her face, then he watched as she remembered. She gave him a slow, sleepy smile, then said, "Good morning."
Her voice was low and husky, a voice made for the bedroom. "Good morning yourself."
She stretched beneath the sheets, then smiled at him again. He saw the exact moment when her eyes changed. Her smile faltered, then faded completely. Slowly she sat up, pulling the sheets up to cover her breasts, and stared at him.
It felt like one of the horses had just kicked him in the gut. "What's wrong?"
She licked her lips. "I have to talk to you, Devlin. I should have told you last night, but…" She looked away. "I guess we got carried away."
His heart began to pound. "What is it, Carly? Are you married?"
At that she looked back at him, shock on her face. "Of course I'm not married. Do you think I would have made love with you if I'd been married?"
"Then what is it?"
She swallowed once, the muscles in her throat rippling. "I think we should get dressed first."
"This sounds serious," he said, trying to joke about it. But his heart was thundering in his ears, and a sick feeling gathered in his stomach.
Carly scrambled out of bed and threw her clothes on. The blouse she had been wearing was missing all its buttons, and her face flushed red as she clutched it together. "I'll meet you downstairs, all right?"
Before he could answer, she bolted from the room. Moments later, he heard the door to her room close.
His hands trembled as he got dressed, but he tried to tell himself it couldn't be anything that serious. As he headed down the stairs, he couldn't stop himself from looking over at her room. The door was still firmly closed.
Thankfully, no one but Maria was around when he walked into the dining room. She stuck her head out of the kitchen. "If you're going to be late for breakfast, you take what's left over."
He couldn't eat a thing. He downed a cup of coffee, waiting for Carly's footsteps on the stairs. Finally he heard her.
"Would you like something to eat?" he asked, but she shook her head.
"Let's go outside, Dev."
What could be wrong? He led her out the door, then steered her toward the pasture where they'd stood two nights ago. "No one will bother us here."
She grasped the top rail of the fence and stared out into the distance for a while, almost as if she was gathering her courage. Finally she turned to him.
"There's something I need to tell you. I should have told you a long time ago, but I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn't help me, afraid that if you knew the truth, I wouldn't be able to find out what had happened to Edmund Whitmore."
She took a deep breath. "My name is Carly Fitzpatrick, but I wasn't born with that name. I do work for Focus magazine, but that's not why I came to Cameron, I used to be Caroline Whitmore. My mother changed our names after we moved away from Cameron. Edmund Whitmore was my brother, and I came back to Cameron to find out who killed him."
Devlin stared at her, not sure he heard her correctly. He'd done a routine background check on Carly when she'd first
come to town, but it hadn't revealed this. "What?"
She didn't look away. "I've been lying to you from the beginning, Devlin. I didn't come to Cameron to write an article about the town. I came to find out what had happened to my brother."
It felt as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. "Why, Carly? Why didn't you tell me who you were from the beginning?"
"Because you were a McAllister. I thought it was your father who killed my brother."
"Did you think I would try to hide the truth from you, if I knew who you were?" He couldn't keep the pain out of his voice.
"At the beginning, yes, I did."
"And last night? Were you still afraid that I wouldn't tell you the truth last night?"
"Of course not," she whispered, but she looked away. "There just wasn't the right time to tell you."
"So you let me spill my guts to you, tell you all about Judy and how she betrayed me, but you couldn't find the right time to tell me the truth about yourself." He welcomed the anger that flared inside him. It was a distraction from the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. "You played me for a fool. You even got me to reopen the case, but you didn't think it was necessary to tell me your connection to it."
"I wanted to tell you." He heard the pain in her voice, but refused to listen to it. "I've wanted to tell you for a while."
"Then why didn't you?"
She stared at him for another moment, then dropped her gaze. "I was scared, I was afraid that if I told you the truth, you wouldn't let me pursue the story. I was afraid that if you thought I was going to find out something about your family, you'd make sure I didn't have access to any information."
His heart twisted inside him. "I thought you knew me better than that."
"I do, Dev." She reached out to touch him, then fisted her hand and let it drop to her side. "I know you wouldn't do that. But I couldn't get past the fear. I needed to find out the truth about Edmund so badly. And telling you the truth felt like a betrayal of my brother."
COWBOY WITH A BADGE Page 19
