Stevie Lee

by Tara Janzen

  Hal walked across the porch and leaned his shoulder against one of the upright posts supporting the roof. His feet were bare, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist where it was half-tucked into his jeans. His hair was pushed back from his face from the repeated, broad sweeps of his hands running through it while he’d paced the floor. He’d tried sleeping, but like every other night it had been an exercise in futility. All he really wanted was to be with Stevie. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. He stared out over the moonlit landscape and saw only wide gray eyes, a soft mouth parted in anticipation, and the fullness of her breasts cupped in his hands. He’d never been crazy in love before, but he knew what he felt was love and it was sure driving him crazy.

  Frustration tightened his hand around the post and lowered his chin to his chest. Maybe it was time to leave the Trail. He had the tax money and a little extra. And it was a rare night when he didn’t get another job offer. If he didn’t work for her, he knew he could catch up with her no matter how fast she ran.

  But he’d promised to stay. He also knew that if he left, she’d be losing the best bartender she’d ever had, and all the money he brought in for her. From the way she’d been treating him, he’d figured his drawing power was the only reason she hadn’t fired him. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. He’d been in some pretty tight spots before, but it had taken Stevie Lee to show him the true meaning of being between a rock and a hard place.

  Where was she? The thought echoed through the emptiness in his heart. She should have been home by now. No, he quickly amended, she should have been with him. She should always be with him.

  Stevie watched him, watched the moonlight caress the muscular curves of his chest and the dejected bend of his head, until she couldn’t watch him anymore. Slowly she got out of the car, hesitating for a moment with her hand grasping the top of the door and one booted foot on the running board. She glanced once at her cabin, then down the meadow at Hal. What good was love if it wasn’t shared? she asked herself, knowing the answer was “No good at all.” Then she closed the car door and, step by step, followed her dreams down the pine-bordered path.

  Hal’s head lifted at the sound, and through the shadows of the night he saw her coming for him. His breath caught, but only for an instant, then started up again deep and slow. Moonlight dappled the trail of wildflowers and the long, slender curves of her body as she appeared and disappeared between the trees, tightening his heart with every stride. He held himself very still as he watched her. She had to come to him.

  On the other hand, if she changed her mind and started back up the hill, he guaranteed she wouldn’t get five feet. The truth brought a wry grin to his mouth, and that’s how Stevie found him when she stepped up on the porch.

  The smile alone was enough to shake her confidence, coupled with his silence she found herself coming to a stop far short of her initial destination. Suddenly she felt quite foolish. What had she had in mind? A seduction? Throwing herself at him? And all because she’d let her emotions override her common sense and had worked herself into a dither of hormones?

  Yes, she admitted, she’d had all of those things in mind. Her hormones were still frenzied beneath what she hoped was a calm exterior. He still looked incredibly enticing: The hard flat planes of his abdomen tightly muscled, causing her fingers to curl into her palm; the length of flaxen hair swept off his face in those twin mane-like arcs; the casual stance of his lanky body relaxed against the porch railing—and that midnight smile teasing his mouth and her imagination.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  “Hi, Stevie,” his rough voice added a depth and richness to her name unlike any other’s. “Nice night.”

  “Beautiful,” she agreed.

  Hal nodded, letting his gaze roam down her body. He noticed the subtle shifting of her weight from one foot to the other, the nervous tangling of her fingers through the ends of her hair, and the shy, downcast angle of her eyes. She’d come for him all right, and now that she had him, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. Fortunately he didn’t suffer from the same lack of ideas.

  “Very beautiful. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen,” he broke the moment of silence softly, and his voice lowered to a raspy drawl. “Do you want to come over here?”

  With the slightest of gestures he reached out his hand to her. Even with his encouragement Stevie found her boots glued to the porch.

  “It’s been a long time,” she choked the words out around the growing lump in her throat.

  “For me too.”

  “I mean a very long time.”

  His grin broadened, flashing white in the darkness of his face. “I think we can figure it out,” he said, teasing, lifting his hand higher. “It’s like riding a bike . . . only much, much better.”

  The first step was the hardest. The second and the third came easier, and when her fingers touched his, he took her hand and gently pulled her closer.

  “No running away this time, Stevie,” he said softly, the smile fading from his face.

  She shook her head, sending a tumble of honey-brown hair sliding over her shoulders.

  “No turning back.” His eyes darkened with a serious light, reflecting the intensity of his need.

  Once again she shook her head.

  “Okay, then,” he said with a sigh, leaning back against the railing. And slowly but surely, he reached out, removed her jacket, and began unbuttoning her shirt.

  Eight

  One by one, his fingers slipped the buttons through their holes, baring her skin to the cool night breeze. When the last button was released, he slid his hand inside her shirt and undid the front clasp of her bra.

  Stevie felt the tremor of his fingers between her breasts, and then, ever so slowly, he pushed the soft pink cotton and wisps of satin to either side. The heavy ache she’d been fighting all night increased in intensity, winding down through her body and settling between her thighs. With just one touch, he had her back to the place where she’d been in his arms, breathless, wanting and waiting for more.

  The moon made a silvery track across her creamy skin, lighting a path for his hand to follow. He caressed the ripe fullness of her breasts, felt the weight and softness of each, all the while wondering how he’d lasted this long without her.

  “Stevie,” he spoke her name gently, sliding his hand up her chest and throat, tilting her chin so he could see into her eyes. They were wide and soft, dark and mysterious in the starlight, and they filled him with longing. “I’ve never been in love before, but I’m in love now. I don’t know how it happened, or why, or what it all means . . . besides this”—with the slightest of pressures on the back of her neck, he drew her closer and buried his head in the silky veil of hair falling over her shoulder—“but I want to know, Stevie. I want you to teach me.” His mouth opened over her ear, soft and wet, sending shock waves coursing over her body. “Teach me how to love you,” he whispered. “How to make love to you.”

  Every word seared his message on her heart and lit a flame deep inside her. Delicately his tongue traced the outside of her ear. Gently his teeth gnawed a path along her jaw to her mouth.

  “Teach me, Stevie.” His breath warmed her lips. “And I’ll teach you how to make love to me.”

  And so he began, taking her hands in his and showing her the softness of his skin and the hardness of the muscles beneath. The heated warmth of his body pressed against her breasts played a sensory counterpoint to the cooler air blowing across her face and shoulders. Stevie rubbed against him, her mouth finding the hollow curve of his collarbone, and felt his sharp intake of breath in the contraction of his chest. This was where she belonged, with her fantasies coming to life in her arms. Every touch, every kiss brought a response, urging her on to greater exploration of the wonder of Halsey Morgan.

  He sighed when she traced the column of his throat with her tongue, his eyes drifting closed and his head falling back. His skin was salty and sweet, warm and exciting. He groaned when her
fingers splayed across and lingered on the tightness of his abdomen. Touch for touch, his body met each foray of her hands, opened fully for her, exquisitely in tune with her desires.

  The rest of the night flowed around them in an abundance of earth’s nature and the universe’s far-off lights. Darkness and wilderness surrounded them in a veil of privacy on the porch, leaving them free to find each other.

  From the purity of the high Himalayas to the sultriness of a Calcutta night, Hal had discovered nothing to equal the magic silkiness of a half-naked Stevie Lee giving herself to him. She let him taste the textures of her skin, her hands rough from work, her breasts and throat tantalizing with their softness. She moaned her pleasure when he opened her jeans, and sighed deeply when he brought her against him.

  Her hands tangled through the flaxen gold of his hair as she pulled his mouth down on hers, and with his kiss, slow and sweet, she felt herself melt inside. He was the man she needed, the love she’d been waiting for.

  Hal felt her softening in his arms and held her closer, but it wasn’t close enough. He was torn between taking her or continuing this gentle game of pleasure they were playing. He’d been without either for so long. He wanted everything, wanted her to tease him and touch him until he reached the edge, then bring him back down and start all over again—and he told her, in the lowest of whispers, his mouth moving across the curve of her brow.

  “Ah, yes, Stevie,” he said huskily as her fingers moved down the front of his jeans. “Yes.” Instinct and desire guided her hand, and when she hesitated, Hal guided her again, showing her just the way he needed her, how much he wanted her.

  He was bare beneath his pants, giving her free access to seek the muscled curves of his back, the tender planes of his hipbones, and the special softness of the skin at the tops of his thighs. Slowly her hands stroked inward, meeting to hold him with her palm and fingertips. She touched his arousal, and her breath caught in her throat, electrifying her emotions and quickening her pulse. This time, though, instead of sinking into desire, Stevie found herself lifting to meet him.

  A trail of yearning kisses drew her higher even as Hal pulled her between his legs. Their bodies met, his nakedness against her lace, his rhythm matching hers in gentle surges. A tightening pleasure stretched them to the edge of control. His kisses became wilder and found a matching abandon in the erotic track of her tongue following his jaw to his ear—until he couldn’t take anymore.

  “Stevie?”

  “Mmmm,” she murmured.

  He rose against her, cupping her face in his hands. “You feel so good, so right.” His thumbs slowly traced the high curve of her cheeks, his skin rough and calloused against the satiny softness of hers. Passion-smudged eyes drifted closed under the gentleness of his touch. His mouth lowered for the lightest of kisses on her full, sweet mouth. “I love you, Stevie Lee. You’re warm and wonderful and beautiful . . . and I love you.” His breath whispered across her lips, and his voice lowered to a raspy drawl. “Come with me.”

  Stevie felt his hand slide down her arm and his fingers entwine with hers. Once was enough for his request. She willingly went with him inside the cabin, her head resting on his shoulder, her heart full of tenderness and desire.

  A shaft of moonlight spilled through his bedroom window, laying across his rumpled sheets and quilts in silver and shadow. Without a word he shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor as he reached for the pale pink cotton draped over her breasts. His hands slid over her shoulders, pushing the cloth away even as he pulled her against his chest.

  Her shirt joined his, and after a long searching kiss, the rest of their clothes followed, piece by piece until he held her naked in his arms. Stevie’s breath quickened under the lazy track of his mouth up the side of her neck, the heated caresses of his hands down the length of her back.

  “Hal,” she sighed the name of her love, feeling his body come alive against hers. “You, too, are so very beautiful”—with the backs of her fingers she stroked the taut planes of his abdomen—“when I touch you here, and here . . .” her voice broke softly with the ache of wanting.

  Hal understood every nuance of her emotions. They pulsed through him in waves as his mouth stole the rest of her words. The tension and excitement she created needed no more explanation than the riot of his senses, the craving in his soul to be one with her.

  In the echoing passion of her kiss, he found the answers to love. In the arching of her body against his, he found the answers to loneliness. And touch by touch he gave everything he found back to her.

  The muscles in his arms tightened with the strength to carry her to the bed and to hold her beneath him and to love her completely, slowly, and languorously while her satin soft thighs wrapped around his waist. He never wanted to stop, he wanted to be inside her forever.

  “Stevie . . . open your eyes.”

  Her response revealed dove-gray eyes darkened by passion and need, shadowed by sooty lashes.

  “Ah, yes.” He groaned, feeling her draw him deeper and higher.

  The action came naturally, easily, almost desperately, and suddenly she was entering unexplored territory inside of herself, new levels of sensation she hadn’t thought existed.

  Hal saw the wonder widen her eyes, and the barest of smiles played at the corner of his mouth.

  “Hal, I never . . .” she said with a gasp.

  “Shh,” he reassured her softly, kissing her mouth, the side of her nose, the curve of her brow. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere without you . . . not tonight . . . not tonight, Stevie.” His words picked up the cadence of his body, turning his whispers into an aural assault on her senses. From every quarter he plied her with the sights, sounds, and physical pleasures of his love.

  Stevie felt the world slip farther and farther away, leaving her with only one crucial realm of awareness—Halsey Morgan. Indigo eyes held hers with a sultry gleam. Soft, golden hair brushed across her skin. Strong arms and hands flexed around her and caressed her, always pulling her closer. He left no part of her untouched, from the sentient layer of her skin to the deepest recesses of her heart. He loved her forever, as he’d promised, until the lines between her thoughts and feelings, the differences between thinking and touching, vanished into the fantasy of her wildest dreams. Wave after wave of the purest pleasure coursed through her body, binding her to him more tightly than their entwined limbs.

  For long moments afterward, he continued to kiss her, each touch of his lips gentler than the one before, and ever so slowly Stevie felt the tension leave his body and a new peace overcome them both.

  “Ah, Stevie, you are so sweet.” He sighed in her ear, his fingers brushing sweat-dampened tendrils of hair away from her face. “So very sweet. I needed to love you a long time ago.”

  She replied silently with a trail of soft wet kisses along his throat. Even sated with pleasure, she couldn’t get enough of him. The weight of him pressing her into the bed gave her a tranquil sense of security. The overheated, masculine scent of him surrounded her in a veil of private sensuality.

  Free from common sense restraints and the frantic urges of desire, she allowed her mouth and hands to leisurely explore every hardened curve of his body: The broadness of his shoulders, the corded strength of his arms, the sun-browned satin quality of his skin.

  Hal stretched under her stroking, tightening and releasing each muscle in turn as her slender fingers kneaded his body. “Mmm, that feels good.”

  “Sure does,” she said, sighing. With the back of her hand she traced the angle of his jaw up to the shaggy mane of his hair, reveling in the closeness they shared. A year of marriage had given her nothing in comparison, nothing except betrayal, a measure of heartache, and an inadequate idea of the pleasure to be found with a man. But she’d found it with this man whom she’d so easily discounted as a mere detail in her desire to make a good deal on his property.

  The thought brought with it an instant, overwhelming sense of guilt and dropped a shad
ow over her happiness. His lovemaking had left her emotionally vulnerable, too vulnerable to hide from her own selfish, heartless motives. Bad news, Stevie. Halsey Morgan is alive . . . Sure he follows his own star —right off the edge of the earth . . . Pukapuka? Bora Bora? What does it matter? They say it’s his boat all right.

  The memories brought a stark realization crashing down on top of her guilt. She might have lost him. If he’d died, she’d have seventy thousand dollars in her hands instead of the warm, powerful body she held so closely. The thought scared her senseless.

  “Hal—” her voice caught on a broken whisper. “You could have died.”

  His hand stopped in mid-caress, and a pair of quizzically wary blue eyes slowly lifted to meet hers. “Just now, you mean?”

  “On the boat.”

  “Oh, that.” Visible relief brought a quick grin to his mouth. “Not really, Stevie. I would have had to work at it,” He dismissed her fears with a shrug and went back to enjoying the beauty and softness of her body.

  “Hal, I mean it. You might not have comeback.”

  “I always come back,” he said easily, reaching up and brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Sometimes it just takes longer than others.”

  “But—”

  “No buts about it, I always come back—always,” he repeated for her sake, feeling her distress and wondering what had brought it on. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  “I’m sorry, Hal. I’ve been selfish and awful. All the time you were suffering on that island I wasn’t even thinking of you. Only of myself and all the money I’d make”—a small, choking sob broke through on a gasp—“and not once did I think of you and what you were going through. I didn’t even think of you as a person, just a meal ticket out of here. And now I’m . . . I’m . . .”

  “Stevie, Stevie.” He drew his fingertip across her lower lip, effectively silencing her with his touch. “Hey, come on now. You didn’t even know me. And believe me, if I’d known you, I’d have been working a lot harder to get back here.”