Under A Painted Moon

by Rayne Forrest

  She gave herself over to him, trusting him to protect her as she rode the edge of blissful oblivion to fall willingly into the void where only sensation existed. She drifted, sated and peaceful, then suddenly aware of him inside her.

  The lean muscles of his back tensed under her hands. His arms slipped beneath her, cradling her even as his passion turned demanding. He thrust into her hard, once, then again, his seed pumping into her, filling her with his heat.

  He was slow to still, staying with her until his body could no longer maintain their physical connection. He sighed, a deep, breathy sound of male satisfaction.

  "I love you, Courtney."

  Wrapped in each other's arms, sheltered by his body, and the darkness, she could say it now, too.

  "I love you, too."

  Chapter 23

  Barry was up early. He'd not slept for long, but he did sleep deeply. Early or not, he called a buddy and begged a favor before he put the coffee on to brew. He was just getting ready to carry a mug upstairs when Courtney shuffled into the kitchen and collapsed onto one of the old Windsor chairs. He handed her a mug.

  "Rough night, babe?"

  She took several quick, small sips of her steaming drink before she glared at him.

  "You owe me two thousand dollars, McWaters. And marriage proposal notwithstanding, you're gonna pay up."

  He took a drink of his coffee to hide a smile at her raspy voice and raspier attitude. He'd have to make sure he woke her up slowly and properly and put a smile on her face each morning in the future.

  "Give me a deposit slip and I'll put the money in your account, by noon, as promised."

  "Who were you talking to? Your girlfriend?"

  "Grouchy, grouchy. No, I was talking to a contractor buddy of mine. I bribed him to come and take a look at the basement on his way to his jobsite this morning."

  "You'd better bribe a judge.” She took several more rapid sips. He decided against asking her if she wanted an intravenous hookup for her coffee.

  "No shit. That will be this afternoon. Are you going to come and stand by your man?"

  "I wouldn't miss it. At least the court system is being prompt. I'd bet you that my father grabs your docket, but that wouldn't be a fair bet.” She stood. “I've got to get going. I'll call you in a while.” She sat her empty cup in the sink and located her car keys.

  He followed her onto the back porch.

  "Listen, babe. Don't call the judge and try to ‘explain’ things. If your father does get this, he'll look us over and have to pass us along to someone else. Don't ask him to do something he shouldn't."

  She turned and smiled up at him. “I won't. But I still have to let him know it happened."

  Barry nodded. He supposed she did, at that. He was burning with curiosity about more than what her father would say. She'd not mentioned her monthly. There'd been no sign of it last night.

  "How do you feel this morning?"

  "Like someone kept me up most of the night. And that's all the news that is news."

  He had nothing to say to that. The cool glint in her eye cautioned him against pursuing the subject. With a woman on the hormonal edge, discretion truly could be the better part of valor.

  He pulled her close and tipped her chin up to give her a good-bye kiss. She leaned against him for the briefest moment then hopped down the steps. She'd pulled his truck into the grass last night, so she had no trouble backing her car out. The rear tires squealed when she dropped the car in drive. Barry shook his head and went inside for more coffee.

  His contractor buddy showed up less than twenty minutes later. Barry showed him the wall and he agreed it was there for looks, not support. He inserted a long tube through one of Barry's drill holes then asked Barry to turn off the lights. The bright halogen bulb in the end of the flexible tube lit the cavity.

  Barry stared in amazement at the amount of light visible along the top of the stonewall. It was obvious, even to him, that the house was not resting on the wall. It was a close fit, though. Back when the house was built, there would have been no way to see what they were seeing with the halogen.

  He got some basic instructions on how to open up a large enough hole to at least get a good look inside then his buddy had to be on his way. It didn't seem as if it were going to be an overwhelming job. He and Courtney should be able to handle it.

  The lawn crew was arriving as he was leaving to go home and get ready for his court appearance. Yep, he was guilty. Guilty of vast stupidity. Too bad, it still felt so good.

  And before he did anything else, he was going to buy a ring—just as soon as the jeweler opened for business.

  * * * *

  Courtney dressed with special care as she planned her visit to her father, Judge Joseph Nichols. Heaven only knew what he'd say.

  He had played golf with Wayne in the beginning, but had gradually stopped, never giving a reason. Looking back, she could guess what the reason had been. Her parents had been very supportive of her decision to divorce Wayne.

  More worrisome than meeting her father was the fact her period hadn't started. The way she'd felt yesterday, she'd have bet on it being today. One thing at a time.

  First she had to do whatever she could to get Wayne to drop the assault charge. Barry would be angry, but that's just the way it was.

  Her father welcomed her with a stern look, motioning her to sit. He had the police file in front of him. Courtney didn't have to say a word. The judge had called Wayne and told him to drop the charges or else face the wrath of a father whose little girl had been called some unpleasant names.

  She had just enough time to dash home and wait for Barry to pick her up on his way to the courthouse. He took one look at her and shook his head.

  "You meddled,” he said ominously, bending over her until she was leaning backwards.

  She didn't even try to deny it.

  "Just for that, I'll keep what's in my pocket—in my pocket.” He tried to sound stern.

  "Okay. You do that.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  His green eyes darkened, amusement lighting their depths. “Okay, if you say so, babe.” He tapped the end of her nose. “Come on. I can't be late, now can I?"

  "I wouldn't think it a good idea.” She glanced at his hand, hidden in his pocket. His fingers were toying with whatever was in there.

  He put his arm around her, nudging her in the direction of her car.

  "You'd better drive, babe. They might keep me."

  "They aren't going to keep you over one little punch in the nose. Unless, of course, you have a rap sheet I don't know about."

  "I'm not found of rap music, no."

  She sighed, and brushed against his side.

  He had more in his pocket than a check. Whatever it was, it was hard, and not very large. She bumped him again.

  "Are you all right?” he asked. “You keep running into me.” He opened the car door for her.

  "I'm fine. What's in your pocket?"

  He grinned. “Now I get it. You were trying to sneak a feel. Sorry, babe. You have to be patient."

  She flashed him as much thigh as she dared in broad daylight as she got into the car. Two could play at teasing. He chuckled wickedly, leaning into the car to fasten his mouth on hers. He boldly caressed her lips with his tongue. His hand snaked under her suit jacket to quickly squeeze her breast. She gave his tongue a little nip. He pulled away, grinning.

  He was just so gorgeous when he smiled like that.

  "Get in and drive, McWaters. Prepare to meet your fate."

  He closed her car door, walked around to the driver's side, and got in. She watched him drive and made a decision. As soon as they left the courthouse, they were going to a dealership. She was getting a new car, one that neither one of them would look respectable and middle-aged while driving it.

  They reached the city parking lot and found only one spot open. Barry pulled into it and cut the ignition. He glanced at her, pointing to the car beside them.

  "Th
at's Waynie-boy's Caddy isn't it?"

  "Yes. The bastard. I guess he's going to go through with it. I'm sorry, Barry."

  "Why are you sorry? I'm the one that punched him.” He squeezed her shoulder. “If he gets snotty, I may punch him again."

  Alarm streaked through her. She grabbed his arm. “Don't you dare!"

  "I won't.” He patted her hand then pried her nails loose. “I will not lose my temper with him again, even if my head explodes."

  "What pretty mental imagery. Just remember it."

  He nodded then climbed out and came around to open her door. They walked across the parking lot on pavement so hot, it burned the soles of her feet, even through her shoes. She could see little waves of heat shimmering off the blacktop. The inside of the courthouse was blessedly cool and a sharp contrast to outside.

  Barry emptied his pockets and walked through the metal detector. She handed over her purse and stepped through behind him. She remembered the days when the police didn't even guard the door, much less check for weapons. Times had changed. So had she.

  Wayne Collins was standing in the hallway watching them approach and she didn't feel even the slightest urge to turn tail and run. There was no nervous plunging of her stomach. Her hands were steady. She'd given the past all she was going to give it.

  Almost. She had one last thing she was going to say to Wayne Collins. She hoped he choked on it. She walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye. Some corner of her mind registered his surprise.

  "The next time you call me a whore, it won't be Barry putting his fist in your face. You understand me?"

  She sensed Barry behind her. A strong hand closed around her right arm.

  Wayne looked her up and down, then nodded and turned away.

  Time was his dismissal would have hurt her deeply. Now it didn't matter. He couldn't hurt her any longer. She was well and truly free of him. At last.

  She turned and looked up into Barry's concerned face.

  "You know, babe, threatening him in the courthouse is almost as bad as punching him in front of three policemen."

  "I know. But damn, it felt good!"

  * * * *

  Courtney sat on the basement stairs watching Barry chip away at the mortar in the wall. She wished he'd put his shirt back on. It was really difficult to pay attention to what he was doing with his tools with all those sleek muscles in his back rippling under the wide expanse of smooth, tanned skin. Her hands itched to reach out and touch him.

  She checked her watch. It was only a little after six.

  There wasn't any reason in the world they couldn't shower and go to bed early, was there? Say, about seven?

  There wasn't any reason except he'd started the job and she knew he'd open a hole in that wall big enough to crawl through before he quit for the night.

  "Just think. You could be doing this on a chain-gang."

  "Ha. Ha. Aren't you glad I'm not?"

  She was glad. Wayne had dropped the charges. Barry had paid reasonable court costs and walked away with a stern warning. If he behaved for two years, his record would be completely clear again. Courtney didn't have any worries about that. He wasn't likely to ever do a repeat performance.

  She'd used the returned bail money as a down payment on her shiny new, totally impractical and in no way matronly, automobile. She was thrilled. It was the first car she'd ever picked out for herself. And Barry had somehow managed to remain silent while she worked her deal with the salesman.

  "Just get on with it, will ya?” She was quivering with excitement and he was picking at the mortar and trying to keep from making a large mess. “There's no way to do that and be neat."

  "I suppose not.” He picked up the small sledgehammer and swung it. The top two stones tumbled to the inside of the sealed space.

  "Hit it again, Barry.” She hopped off the stairs and darted behind him. He obliged. More stones gave way.

  One more hit and the hole was large enough for her to stick her shoulder through. She grabbed one of the old chairs from the carriage house and stood on it. He snatched her off.

  "Be careful, will you?” He set her on the floor and hopped up on the chair. “Give me the flashlight."

  "Oh, yeah, sure. You can fall off the chair.” She slapped the flashlight into his open palm.

  "That's right.” He squeezed his shoulder through the opening.

  "Well! What do you see?"

  "Not much. A very large boulder.” He stepped off the chair and picked up the sledgehammer again. He knocked off about another twelve inches, widening the hole, then he held out his hand to help her step up. She stared at him, hands on hips.

  "Why'd you get to have the first look? It's my house."

  "What if there had been a body in there, babe?"

  "Get real.” She climbed back up on the chair. The truth was, finding something gruesome in the space had crossed her mind.

  Even with the additional stones removed, she had to stand on her toes to lean through the hole. She moved the flashlight slowly, taking her time. The beam showed the foundation wall and one very big boulder. The entire corner of the house rested directly on that one slab of rock.

  She twisted to look at the other corner and almost dropped the flashlight. She backed out of the hole so fast she banged her head on the floor joist.

  "There's an old steamer chest in there!” She overbalanced on the chair. Barry deftly caught her and swung her into his arms, then set her on her feet again. He grinned at her, nodding.

  "Can you get a doorway opened up with that little hammer?"

  "That depends. Are you going to feed me sometime tonight?"

  The man was infuriating. She had an honest-to-goodness treasure chest in her cellar and he was thinking about food. She pulled his head down and kissed him.

  "You hammer. I'll go make reservations."

  He laughed. “That's a real even distribution of labor, babe."

  "I know!” She took the stairs two at a time. The sound of metal striking rock rang behind her.

  She grabbed her cell phone, deciding to call for delivery. She really didn't want to shower and then dress again. Shower and go to bed was more like it.

  She rummaged in the latest boxes she'd brought over to the Victorian and found the old blanket she'd packed. She grabbed that and two place settings and ran up the stairs to the bedroom. Then she went back downstairs for the Windsor chairs. She moved the little table and chairs into the corner, tossed the blanket over the table for a makeshift tablecloth and quickly arranged the place settings.

  Yep. She'd been right in thinking this corner of the bedroom would be perfect for morning coffee and late night drinks. Now she'd have to find just the right furniture.

  Barry called for her to come and see the steamer chest. She bounded down the stairs and found him very gingerly dragging the chest out into the light.

  "What do you want to do about the rest of this wall, babe? The chest back there means old Orion was probably not the one to have this wall put in. Some later owner probably didn't want to bother with removing the trunk and disposing of it."

  Courtney nodded. He was likely right. People did strange things, and if it was an early owner, the chest would have held no value. Everyone had steamer trunks back then.

  "I truly don't know what to do about it since it doesn't support any of the house. I think we can let a contractor finish removing at least the top half of it. The bottom half could stay as part of the history of the house."

  "You've time to decide. Who gets to open the chest?"

  Courtney reached for it, then stopped. “You don't think there could be mice in there, do you?"

  Barry lifted the lid. Nothing moved. “Guess not,” he said, grinning at her.

  She reached past him and lifted an old notebook. “Look at all this. This is dated 1875."

  "This is dated 1875, too,” he replied, gingerly leafing through a faded almanac. “This really is a treasure. Look at this.” He handed her an old ledger.
<
br />   "Oh my goodness! This is Orion Means’ accounts!” She laughed gleefully. “Barry, we have to take this to the widows. They'll be able to catalog it all for the historical society."

  "You're not going to sell it?"

  "Why? I may have to work a deal to keep some of it for a display at the shop, but no, I can't sell this. This should be a part of the local history."

  "You're amazing, you know that?"

  "Aw, shucks, McWaters. Now gather up a few things and let's take it upstairs. I called for delivery. It should be arriving soon."

  He grabbed her forearms and pulled her to him. “You're amazingly bossy, too, but I still love you."

  She met his warm gaze. “You'd better."

  Chapter 24

  They ate in the bedroom at the little table Courtney had set up. Barry commended a previous owner's thoughtful tree placement. They could sit by the window and no one could see them through the leaves. Consequently, he stripped off his hot and sticky jeans and ate naked. Courtney was not quite so bold.

  The black velvet box was hidden under his pillow. Dusk was falling. Tomorrow he had to get back to work at the studio. He had to put another layer on the Elizabethtowne canvases and start packing up his studio. If he buckled down and worked a good eight hours a day for a few days straight, he'd be all packed and the Elizabethtowne series completed by the time the carriage house was cleaned next week.

  It was doable if he could convince Courtney not to distract him. Like she was now.

  He held his breath as she licked a dribble of duck sauce off the outside of her egg roll.

  If she wanted to lick something, he had just the thing right under the table.

  She paused and looked at him.

  "What?” she mumbled around a bite of the egg roll.

  "I didn't say a word."

  She pushed her plate away, leaned back and rubbed her firm belly. “I'm full."

  "Shovel it back into the box. It can be lunch for one of us tomorrow.” It would be great if he didn't have to stop for lunch. If she didn't want it, he could just dump the leftovers on a plate and eat it cold without even stopping to clean a brush. He did it all the time.