The Sheriff & the Amnesiac

by Ryanne Corey

  “I see,” she whispered, frozen in her seat. So much beauty, packed into one tiny little valley. “Tyler, this is amazing. Listen…it sounds like the aspen trees are whispering, talking. And that baby waterfall coming out of the mountain—where does it come from? Are there deer around here, too? Do you think we could pick some wildflowers for Rosie? Who owns—”

  “Silence, angel. What a little motormouth,” Tyler observed mildly, his soft blue eyes lit with amusement. “Would you like to get out? I have something else to show you.”

  With Jenny limping and leaning heavily on Tyler’s arm, they crossed to the middle of the meadow, knee-deep in wildflowers and rustling green grass. Jenny loved the soft brushing sounds they made as they walked, loved the rich, evergreen scent in the air and the sun warm on her head and arms. She had left her baseball cap in the Jeep, shaking her wild copper curls free. This place had a strange, fairy-tale feel to it, the sloping mountainside crowded with enormous pines, bluebells heavy on their fragile stalks, the gentle sounds of splashing water underscoring the idyllic scene. Once she tugged on Tyler’s shirt and said confidingly, “I don’t think in my actual life that I’ve spent much time walking through wildflowers. I feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz walking through the poppies.”

  “You’re much, much prettier,” Tyler told her, his hands framing her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks and encouraging her delighted smile. There was a mist of yearning in his eyes, a gentleness to the curve of his expressive mouth. He loved her like this, free of defenses and at peace with the world. Of course, he had loved her when she was a rebelette on a bike, loved her when she ate and couldn’t pay for it, loved her in a baseball cap with her ponytail whipping behind. He pretty much figured he would have loved her in any situation, any mood, any circumstance. And he especially loved her when they were beautifully, joyously alone.

  Mentally he formed the words for the first time. I love her.

  There had been a time in his life when the prospect of falling in love with someone would have scared Tyler Cook to death and beyond. Now it merely stunned him. He’d known it was happening all along, yet it still demanded a moment of truth.

  Standing there in the meadow, alone with the sun and the earth, he opened his mouth to tell her. He wanted to tell her, but the words wouldn’t come. There was something in her eyes, something in the relaxed set of her shoulders and her winsome smile that made him rethink the impulse. Jenny didn’t even know who she was at the moment, let alone who she loved. And for all he knew, she could have a fiancé somewhere. Or a boyfriend. Or someone she was dating. Or a thousand other scenarios that made him turn away from her to hide the wealth of emotion in his eyes. He needed to be patient, he told himself. He needed to think about her right now, not about himself. Later—with any luck—the snarl would unravel, all the questions would be answered and he would have his chance. That was all he wanted, the chance to show her how he felt. The emotions were so strong, he couldn’t imagine she wasn’t feeling the same way.

  Time. She needed time. And he needed a bullet to bite on.

  He spread the quilt he’d brought along smack-dab in the middle of the meadow, the grasses and wildflowers providing a thick cushion for them to sit on. It was like being on an outdoor feather bed, and Jenny wiggled and stretched with delight.

  “I don’t think I’ve done this before, either,” she told Tyler. He was sitting cross-legged next to her, looking down with a benevolent smile. “I would have remembered this. I swear, if I owned this land, I would live on a blanket just like this.”

  “It would get dicey,” Tyler pointed out, “when the snow hit.”

  “Details.” Her expressive eyes smiled up at him. “Right now I don’t feel like worrying about details.” Her voice softened. “Or anything else. So what’s this place called?”

  “Mine,” Tyler said.

  Her eyes stretched. “What, you own this? This whole meadow?”

  “The whole mountain,” he said almost apologetically. “I had to find places to stash my winnings and endorsement money, or Uncle Sam would have had a heyday with me. One of my investments was this mountain. It’s part of what I call The Big Picture.”

  Jenny stared up at him, fascinated by the way the wind lifted his hair and spread it across his brown forehead. She also had a very good view of the cleft in his chin and the soft rise of powerful, well-defined chest muscles beneath his “Java-Enabled” T-shirt. She decided she liked this particular angle of Tyler Cook. “And what is The Big Picture?”

  Grinning, he stretched out beside her, clasping his hands beneath his head. “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you. Right now you’re sitting on my front porch.”

  Jenny looked to her right and left. “I am?”

  “Yes. It’s a deep, covered porch that wraps around the entire house.”

  “What house?”

  He looked at her, blue eyes chiding. “Have some imagination, will you? The house is built with river rock and logs. It has a green metal roof to match the trees, so it blends in to the surroundings. There are two fire-places, one in the great room and one in the bedroom.

  On the front door there’s a sign that says “No Twins or Mothers Of Twins.”

  Jenny punched him in the arm, registering the steel in his muscles. “You don’t mean that. You love those little boys. And you adore your sister.”

  Tyler grinned. “A man needs his space. Oh, and I forgot the most important part—there are rocking chairs on the front porch. In my old age I will sit in a rocker on my front porch and simply look at the view.”

  “Ohhh.” Intrigued, Jenny got into the game. “And will you chew tobacco and spit, like you see in all the old Western movies? And whittle?”

  He cocked one dark brow at her. “Please. Do I look like I chew tobacco? Or whittle?”

  At this, Jenny’s smile slipped slowly away. Tyler looked like something she would have hardly dared conjure in a dream. The hard line of his cheek was softened with sun; his summer eyes beguiled. She could see an almost imperceptible scar on his chin, another just above his collarbone. Rodeo must be the original extreme sport, she thought. Hazardous to your health. Still, he looked good with his war wounds, a man who had loved the challenge of pitting himself against the unknown. He was so different here in this setting, a bit wilder, perhaps, and definitely more relaxed. No walls, no doors, no town to watch over and protect. Freedom looked awfully good on him.

  “No,” she said softly. “You don’t look like a man who would whittle. You do look like you belong here, though. With things that aren’t…cultivated. Things you can tame.”

  Tyler stared at her for the longest time. His gaze touched on the hair curling on her shoulders, her star-tipped eyelashes, the depths of her dark, intense eyes. He lifted a gentle finger, touching the bruise on her cheekbone. “I used to think I was pretty good at taming things. Until I met you. You’ve got me thinking twice, kiddo.”

  She tried to smile, but it was something of an effort. Desire, still lingering in her body, pricked at her like hot needles. She thought, how could anyone resist someone who looks like you? “Well, I wouldn’t want you to get bored with me.”

  “No way,” he said with feeling. “That’s not even a possibility. Jenny, you’ve inspired a wealth of feelings inside me, but none of them comes close to boredom. You’re like a powder keg giving off sparks, very unpredictable. Heaven knows, I can’t anticipate you.”

  She looked away at that, staring at the flawless blue sky until her eyes watered. Her ankle was hurting a bit, her heart was in her throat and her mind was far too crowded with far too many thoughts. Some were vivid, recent memories. Others were vague and mysterious, somehow unsettling. She pushed it all away, wanting nothing more than the healing magic of this place and this moment.

  “Try,” she heard herself say, her voice unusually husky. “Try to anticipate me right now. Tell me what I’m feeling right now.”

  A heavy silence fell, the faint amusement between them eva
porating. Tyler studied the perfect outline of her profile while his heart came loose, skipping from his toes to his throat and back again. There was a sensuality in her voice that was unmistakable. A curiosity. And, unless he was very mistaken, a silent reply to an unspoken question. He hadn’t expected such surprising candor. But when had she done anything that he’d expected?

  “What do you want to feel?” Tyler asked quietly. Too quietly.

  At that, she turned her head, letting him see the haunted expression in her dark eyes. Oddly, it seemed utterly natural to be here with him, though the faint brush of his thigh against hers constantly reminded her of the siren’s appeal of the erotic land beyond friendship. “Don’t you know by now? I want it all. I want to feel everything.”

  “I can give you that,” Tyler said.

  It was his last cool, logical thought. Excitement coiled deep and hard in his stomach as he rolled on top of her in a fluid motion and slanted his lips against hers. Jenny gasped, feeling every hard, aroused inch of his body on hers. Her eyes closed weakly as his hands splayed over the bare skin of her midriff, stopping just below the burgeoning curve of her breasts. He murmured something over and over—her name—but she couldn’t concentrate. She was lost in this new path they had taken together. Sanity became a restless, reckless blur as they kissed in wild, hungry ways. Backlit with sun, she saw Tyler’s face quickly transform with passion, his eyes heavy-lidded and hot, focused with burning intensity on her. They kissed as if it were the first time, the last time, the best time. And all on a pillow of wildflowers.

  One of his hands clasped hers, fingers threading together in a white-knuckled grip. The other hand pushed her sweater higher, cupping the heavy, aching weight of her breast. No bra. Just sweet, sweet skin and the ultra softness of cashmere. With satisfaction he heard the sound she made, felt her back arch as she instinctively pressed against him, into him. Fiery urgency ran like rain in his body. He allowed his lips to replace his kneading fingers, touching her with liquid fire. She took a hard breath, tangling her hands in his hair. The sensations he aroused were so vivid, so powerful, she felt tears behind her closed eyelids. Everything, she thought. I want it, I want it….

  Still kissing her with glutted hunger, he rolled onto his back in a fluid motion, spreading her over him. Little by little they sank deeper into their bed and their fantasy. At first it was enough, holding, kissing and touching. Even the frustration they created was exquisite, a tantalizing, building suspense. And then, without warning, the holding and kissing was spent and they needed something else to fill the void.

  Jenny’s hips writhed as she tumbled against him like a playful kitten, heat building. His hands stroked down her back, her buttocks, massaging and pressing her harder against him. It didn’t matter that they were far away from the privacy of a bedroom. Jenny allowed her mind to drift into an unguarded state of quiet intimacy and tantalizing possibilities. Nature’s backdrop was perfect for this most elemental and beautiful act. For the first time, she acknowledged to herself what he was to her, a direction she needed to follow, an inexplicable feeling of being reunited with someone or something that had deserted her long ago.

  Her eyes darkened as she looked down at him through the silky curtain of her hair. “I didn’t know it would be like this,” she said hoarsely, her mouth honeyed and swollen. “So good…”

  “You should have asked me,” Tyler muttered, losing pace with his heartbeat. His body shifted again, sliding her beneath him. His chest made a questing pressure against her breasts. The contact sent pleasure shocks through her veins, and an aching need was born deep within. She hadn’t known she was capable of so much feeling, every nerve in her body tingling and shuddering to life. His hips captured hers with gentle strength. His tongue strokes instinctively carried an imitation of the physical act they shared.

  Jenny startled herself by taking his hands and placing them on her, there, where she ached. “Touch me, please…”

  The last vestige of his control died with her pleading whisper. He buried his face in her cool hair with a groan, feeling her back arch as his hands began to work magic. She whimpered, groaned, slipped her shaky hands into the pockets of his jeans and tugged fiercely. She knew she wanted and needed more of this magic he had. There was no shame, just desire. Her fingers fumbled at his shirt, wanting to feel skin. Anticipating her needs, he rose up and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it into a carpet of grass and flowers. Then gently he lifted her, so they were kneeling, facing each other. Holding her eyes with his, he took the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. Jenny closed her eyes briefly, feeling the soft, flower-scented air caressing her naked skin. Her mouth dropped open in a soft, round O. A feeling of wantonness rolled through her in a hard wave. She liked being like this. She was a wanton. How lovely.

  Then she opened her eyes, showing Tyler the force of her emotions. They came together hard, chest to chest, in a deep, almost shocking explosion of feeling. Hands, tongues, legs, hips…they lost pace with their breathing in a blizzard of hard kisses. Jenny became frantic for some kind of release. This dark river of passion was amazing, but it seemed there was never, never enough. She couldn’t have stopped now if her life depended on it. She couldn’t think beyond her own need.

  Clothes were stripped off impatiently, one helping the other. They went down together on the quilt, Tyler’s lips slanting a bruising pressure on hers. Skin to skin, body to body, hard bone and pliant muscle. They couldn’t get close enough. Jenny’s skin felt hot, flushed, colored with deep red roses and pale pink ribbons. She felt pink all over, a melting, red-hot pink….

  Tyler’s mouth dipped to hers again and again, then slowly moved downward, finding the turgid points of her breasts, teasing her, suckling her into a delirium of pleasure-pain. Jenny was incoherent, trying to tell him what she needed, but unable to form words. Then she realized he knew exactly what she needed. His fingers were as adept as his lips, slipping below Jenny’s waist, spreading hot honey and fiery sparks. He was far more in control, managing to talk to her in hoarse gasps while he tortured her so beautifully.

  “Sweetheart…I’ve waited so long. All my life…you feel so good…do you like this? Tell me…oh, baby, I can’t wait anymore…” And cautiously, cradling her face between his palms, he sank by sweet, slow inches within her.

  Jenny’s eyes were wide-open, but she could hardly see anything but a sun-bright sky. Never before had life flowed through her with such incredible, perfect pleasure. She was invaded, filled, utterly complete. That sensation alone nearly brought her to rapture. Tyler lifted his head, his eyes glittering like diamonds. She saw the hard movement in his throat as his fingers brushed her hair away from her face over and over. He was biting his lip, as if trying to find some measure of control. His eyes made a slow scan of her face, from her stubborn chin to the upsweep of her brow to the ruffled tangle of her hair spread like a fan over the quilt. Memorizing, Jenny thought. Roses in winter…

  Jenny’s own throat was painfully tight; her heart was jumping hard in her chest. She could hardly believe the way he looked at her, as if she were a miracle. And then she lost pace with her thoughts, because something fierce and wonderful was happening deep in her belly. Radiant waves of heat were shivering downward, as if someone had turned a stove on simmer in the core of her body. Her breasts were aching badly, her stomach muscles knotted with a strange, ever-growing tension. She closed her eyes, giving herself completely to the deep, drum-primitive rhythm of her blood.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Tyler whispered, “it breaks my heart just to look at you.”

  She touched his lips with a hot, shaky hand. And then, as if planned, their bodies began to move together in an age-old dance. It was the most amazing thing—Jenny could actually feel all the colors of the wildflowers, bright and dark, red and yellow, like a sunset coming to life inside her. But there was more…so much more. Gradually Tyler quickened his pace, taking her from astonishment to recklessness to frenzy. With every hard stro
ke, Jenny needed more, and then she thought if the feelings were any stronger, she would die. Trapped in her own needs, she was mindless, aching, shivering. Trying to find something familiar, she focused on his blue, blue eyes. His cheeks were hotly flushed, like a boy who had been too long in the sun. His hair was tangled in his eyes, wild and dark. He looked so young. But there was nothing young or innocent about the way he moved, about the feelings he aroused in her.

  Jenny felt her spirit slipping away, her body catching fire against his. No longer was she cautious or defensive. She didn’t even know who that cautious, defensive girl was at this point, nor did she care. She was yielding and completely feminine, humming with nature’s most powerful energy. Her hands clung to his shoulders, her belly strained against his, every fiber of her being reaching out to him. Only him.

  “Please,” she whispered, drowning in dark excitement. “Help me…”

  “I will.” The hard brown muscles of his chest rippled with strain as he took her higher, past control. Jenny’s eyes widened, the force of her sensations stunning her. She was desperate, her body literally aching with the need only he could soothe. Her eyes started to mist with pleasure tears, and Tyler’s control snapped.

  With a hoarse cry, he arched into her, driving harder and farther into her center. Jenny was writhing, throwing her head back, biting down on her lip hard enough to spring a drop of blood. He heard her hoarse cry of amazement. And the knowledge that he had done that for her took him over the edge of oblivion. He was one with her, sharing every movement, every pulse, every shuddering breath. Male and female, light and dark, heaven and hell…it was all combined together in one blinding, dizzying moment of delicious, addictive pleasure. The sun, the sky, the trees that whispered and the fragile wildflowers nodding in the breeze—it was all a part of them. It was so much more than sensual pleasure and release. It was an act of forgiveness, promise and sheer, sweet beauty.