Sooner or Later

by Debbie Macomber

  She’d close her eyes, grit her teeth, and bear the humiliation. It should be over soon enough.

  When the doorbell chimed, Letty quickly surveyed the scene. The dinner table was set, a bottle of wine was on ice, and the steaks were ready to be grilled.

  She squared her shoulders before opening the door. The soldier of fortune stood on the other side of the screen. He looked none too pleased for a man who was about to receive the most precious gift she had to give. He studied the full length of her.

  She was well aware how she looked. She’d dressed as if the temperature dipped below freezing instead of soaring in the mid-nineties. Letty knew her features were pale. The blush she’d added to her cheeks had failed to disguise her pallor. Her long-sleeved blouse was buttoned all the way to her chin, and the collar seemed to have a choke hold around her neck. The full-length skirt swirled to her feet, not giving so much as a glimpse of her slim ankles.

  Silently she held the screen door open for him. He wore fatigues, she noted, as if he were already in the jungle. When he walked into her house, she realized he towered a good six inches above her five-foot-five frame, dwarfing her. She didn’t remember him being so large earlier.

  His gaze moved past her to the dining room table, and he frowned.

  “I thought we’d have dinner first,” she suggested timidly, hating the way her voice trembled.

  “As you wish.”

  Letty’s hands felt clammy. She rubbed them together and made an effort at conversation. It soon became apparent that Murphy wasn’t interested in small talk.

  “If you’d open the wine bottle, I’ll put the steaks on the barbecue,” she said into the silence. “I imagine you like yours rare.”

  “Very rare.”

  Letty didn’t know how she’d manage to down a single bite of her dinner, but she’d face that when the time came. Her heart was racing already, and she felt light-headed and dizzy, and they hadn’t made it to the bedroom yet.

  While he dealt with the wine bottle, she carried the meat outside. The heat was stifling, and sweat beaded on her upper lip.

  Murphy appeared a couple of minutes later, bringing her a wineglass.

  “Thank you, Shaun.” She called him by his first name in an effort to ease some of the tension between them. Since they’d be traveling together for a number of days, it’d help if they came to some sort of agreement.

  “Call me Murphy.” His voice was low, gravelly, and unfriendly, setting the tone for this meeting.

  “All right…Murphy.” The T-bone steaks sizzled as she placed them on the hot grill.

  He studied her. Every move she made. His eyes were like those of a hawk, watching its prey, ready for just the precise moment to pounce.

  “Smile,” he ordered sharply.

  Her head came up. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me; I asked you to smile. You look like you expect me to skewer and roast you over that barbecue any minute now.” He mocked her with that cocky grin of his.

  With a determined effort, she managed a half-hearted smile. “There, is that better?”

  “A little, but not much.”

  Letty focused her attention on the meat and flipped both steaks.

  “You’re overplaying the martyr bit,” he offered next.

  Her fingers tightened around the spatula, but she didn’t take the bait.

  “What’s the matter, Letty, are you afraid you might enjoy it? It can be a pleasurable experience if you let it,” he added.

  She stopped herself from responding. She’d agreed to his terms and came to him of her own free will, but she considered him a cold-blooded bastard. But then he was exactly what she’d need in Zarcero in order to find Luke and get them out of the country alive.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Murphy demanded gleefully. “You’re afraid you might enjoy it.”

  She couldn’t keep quiet a second longer. “I sincerely doubt that,” she blurted out, forcing her voice to remain even.

  His laugh was low and mocking. “There are ways of making you want me. Trust me, before I’m finished, you’ll beg me to take you.”

  He moved closer, so close she could feel his breath against her temple. She stiffened. It was all she could do to keep from backing away from him. By the sheer force of her will, she managed to hold her ground.

  “Do all men possess this colossal ego?” she challenged. “Or is it just you? Do you honestly believe you’re so irresistible that I’ll beg you to make love to me?” She made his claim sound ridiculous. “All I can say is that you’ve been listening to women you pay for this sort of enjoyment.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m not paying you?” he taunted.

  Letty blanched.

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Comfort yourself any way you wish. If you want to tell yourself you’re doing this for Luke, for God, for country, then feel free. If you’ve convinced yourself you’re making a noble sacrifice of your virginity, that’s all right by me, too. Make it easy on yourself, it’s no skin off my nose.” He tapped his finger against her nose, and involuntarily she flinched. The small display of weakness appeared to amuse him.

  He trailed his index finger down the side of her face, then idly took a meandering route downward over her shoulder and lower to the crest of her breast. He paused, like a cat toying with a mouse, leaving her to suffer the anticipation of him circling her nipple. In that moment, Letty almost hated him.

  “Tell yourself anything you want,” he whispered seductively, “if it’ll make the lovemaking easier for you. But we both know the truth, don’t we?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He laughed, but the sound was devoid of amusement. “You’ve been wanting to be rid of your virginity for a good long time now, haven’t you?”

  She sucked in her breath, desperately afraid he spoke the truth. “No,” she denied vehemently.

  Then, without reason, he backed away from her and sipped his wine. “It doesn’t matter, you’ve got the perfect excuse. You’re doing it for good ole Luke. Just don’t be shocked when you learn he’s already dead.”

  “Don’t say that,” she shouted. “I told you earlier, Luke’s alive. I know he is, as surely as I live and breathe, my brothers alive. Why would I agree to this if he wasn’t?”

  “That’s the real question, don’t you think?” he asked calmly.

  Shaking violently, Letty hurriedly dished the steaks onto a platter and carried them back inside the house. Murphy followed, closing the back door. It shut with an ominous clang.

  Disguising her distress behind a smiling facade, she set the platter in the center of the table, then brought out two salad bowls from the refrigerator.

  “You can sit down now,” she said, and took her place at the far end of the table, as if this were a festive dinner party. She waited while he took his chair before removing the brightly colored linen napkin and setting it in her lap.

  He reached for his fork. She reached for hers and waited for him to sample the salad.

  “Everything in the salad came out of my garden,” she said proudly. “The dressing is an old family recipe. I hope you enjoy it.”

  He didn’t comment, which was just as well, Letty decided. She held her breath and waited until he’d finished the salad before finding the courage to sample her own. Murphy acted as if this were a contest on how fast one could consume a meal. He’d sliced into his steak before she’d had more than two bites of her salad.

  Letty Madden had nerve. Murphy would say that for her. He’d done his damnedest to ridicule, mock, and intimidate her. Yet for all intents and purposes it looked as if she actually intended to follow through with their agreement.

  Damn it all to hell, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. He’d fully expected the virgin to fold. Okay, so it was going to take more than a few idle threats. He was prepared for that as well.

  While she nibbled at her dinner, he took the opportunity to eat the best damn meal he’
d had in weeks. Generally he didn’t fuss much with food. His freezer was stocked full of frozen entrées, and he wasn’t opposed to one of those military food packs meant for the field now and again. But a steak, grilled over an open fire, why, that was too good to let pass.

  “How…is everything?” she asked.

  “Good.” If she was looking for him to gush all over himself complimenting her, then she had a long wait. These delay tactics of hers would be good for only so long. He had to hand it to her; thus far her strategy had worked.

  He hadn’t anticipated her fixing dinner. The way he figured, he’d arrive and five minutes later he’d have her backside plastered against the mattress. It was a hell of a lot longer than any of those rebel soldiers would give her if they got their hands on her. The thought didn’t comfort him.

  He finished long before she did, stood, and carried his plate into the kitchen.

  “You ready?” he asked, looking down the hallway toward what was sure to be her bedroom.

  She paled, a good sign, he figured.

  “I…haven’t finished with my meal. I’ll only take a minute. Have another glass of wine, if you want. There’s plenty.”

  “No thanks.”

  He could almost see the dread settle over her. With a dignity reserved for those who could afford it, she placed the napkin on the table and stood. Her steps were weighted with reluctance.

  She led him to her bedroom and turned abruptly to face him. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to brush my teeth.”

  He hesitated, then shrugged. “Fine, but sooner or later you’re going to have to make good on your promise.” While he waited, he sat on the edge of the mattress and unlaced his boots.

  She took a long white nightgown into the bathroom with her. Her steps were slow, as if she were royalty walking to the guillotine.

  “Let your hair down,” he instructed.

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  By the time she returned, Murphy had stripped out of his fatigues and was under the sheets, his back braced against the headboard. He locked his hands behind his head, his elbows jutting out on either side.

  “Nice,” he said, studying her, and he meant it. She resembled Little Bo Peep in her long white gown. All she lacked to complete the picture was a long wooden staff and a few lambs traipsing behind her.

  Her dark brown hair flowed halfway down the middle of her back in gentle waves. Her feet were bare. If she was hoping the portrayal of a fairy-tale character would persuade him not to touch her, she was wrong.

  “Move closer to the bed,” he instructed.

  “Are you nude?” Her eyes shifted away from his torso.

  He grinned slowly. “What do you think?”

  She dragged in a deep breath, stiffened, and closed her eyes.

  “Are you ready to abandon your brother already?”

  “No,” she insisted shakily. “A deal’s a deal. You can do with me whatever you want.”

  “I intend to,” he said, leaving no room for doubt.

  “You’re a bastard.”

  He laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Would you mind if I turned off the light first?”

  “Leave it on.”

  A look of panic came over her, and she dashed from the bedroom. Murphy resisted the urge to laugh outright. He hadn’t so much as touched her and already she was racing for the hills. He loved it. The poor, dowdy virgin was deathly afraid of a naked man.

  To his surprise, she returned a moment later with the wine. She drank directly from the bottle herself, dipping her head back and liberally downing the alcohol. Amazed, Murphy watched.

  “Getting drunk won’t help,” he told her.

  “Don’t be so sure.” She pressed the back of her hand against her lips and wiped away the moisture. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

  “Plenty,” he assured her, “but we’ll get to that soon enough.”

  She crumpled onto the edge of the bed as if her legs would no longer hold her. The gown shifted in the front, exposing the swell of her breasts. Murphy was intrigued. She had beautiful breasts, lush and full.

  Keller was right: he had been too long without a woman. Letty Madden was beginning to look damn good.

  “Kiss me,” he ordered.

  Her eyes appeared enormous as her gaze settled on his mouth. She hesitated, gulped down another swallow of wine, and shifted toward him.

  He took the bottle from her hand and set it on the nightstand. “I promise not to bite.” He clasped her firmly about the waist and dragged her across the top of the mattress until her torso was pressed against his. Her eyes were huge, her face deathly pale, and she held his look, waiting. Worrying.

  He eased forward slightly and touched her mouth with his. He wasn’t a cruel man, and despite himself, he almost felt sorry for her.

  She didn’t resist, but she was as stiff as cardboard.

  “Relax,” he ordered impatiently.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Try harder.” Then, because he was angry with himself for being gentle with her, he captured her head between his hands and yanked her mouth to his. The least she owed him for all his trouble was a decent kiss, although he strongly suspected he’d need to tutor her.

  Again she held herself stiff and unyielding. Repeatedly he moved his mouth over hers, less gently this time, molding her lips, shaping them with his own. He felt the peaks of her breasts and battled the growing excitement that threatened to overtake him. Giving himself over to the sensation, he hungrily claimed her lips.

  “Open your mouth,” he muttered.

  “I don’t understand, how—”

  He took advantage of her doubts by slipping his tongue between her lips and sweeping her mouth. She squirmed, objecting to the invasion, and he let her, although her silk-covered breasts stroking his chest were a torment all their own. Again to her credit, she didn’t pull away.

  “Like that?” she whispered huskily when he’d finished.

  She was doing just fine. More than fine. If they continued like this, soon there’d be no turning back. “Yeah,” he mumbled, sounding breathless.

  “This parts not so bad.”

  This wasn’t working the way Murphy had planned. He kissed her again, and this time her tongue shyly met his, welcoming his invasion. His breathing deepened, and he demanded more and more of her. To his surprise she freely wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “You like this, do you?” He chuckled, wanting her to believe he remained unaffected. He was grateful for the blanket, which concealed his arousal. Her ability to excite him came as an unwelcome surprise. He hadn’t counted on the frumpy postmistress having this strong an effect on him.

  “What next?”

  The only way his plan would work was if he made this as unpleasant for her as possible. “Strip.”

  She blinked as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “You want me to take off my nightgown?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  She looked toward the wall.

  “Leave the light on,” he insisted.

  Ever so slowly, she climbed off the bed and stood directly in front of him. She was nervous and embarrassed as she slowly unfastened the buttons, taking her time with each one. Unfortunately she wasn’t aware how much her hesitation enhanced his anticipation. With her eyes tightly closed, she slipped the material over one shoulder. She didn’t seem to be prepared for the slick fabric to slither down her body and pool around her feet.

  Murphy swallowed a gasp, shocked by her beauty. She was magnificent. Her breasts rose full and proud, her stomach was flat and smooth, and her hips were wide and inviting. With her hands clenched at her sides, she stood before him like a mythical goddess.

  Kneeling on the mattress, he captured a nipple between his lips. She squeezed her eyes closed and whimpered softly as he continued to slide his moist tongue over her warm skin. She arched her back and bit into her lower lip.

  Unable to wait any lo
nger, he touched her breasts with his hands, bunching them together and squeezing them gently. Her nipples hardened beneath his touch, beading proudly. Her skin was soft, softer than anything he’d ever touched.

  Nuzzling her neck with his lips, he ran his hands over her hips and buttocks, familiarizing himself with the silky feel of her. God help him, he’d never experienced anything quite like this, and he was the one with experience. Most of it had been with women far more practiced and skilled than this naive postmistress. Yet Murphy had rarely felt like this. Need clawed at his insides until it became a fierce kind of pain.

  His finger touched the silky triangle of curls between the juncture of her thighs. She made a small sound.

  “Open your legs for me.” No longer did he sound like himself. His voice was husky with need.

  “Please…let me turn off the light.”

  “No. Open your thighs,” he said again, more forcefully this time.

  “I can’t.”

  He heard the anger in her voice, but it didn’t sway him. Before another beat of his heart, she braced her feet a couple of inches apart.

  “Very good,” he praised her, and then, because he wasn’t sure what she expected him to do, he leaned forward and kissed her belly. Working his lips upward, he caught her nipple between his lips and sucked greedily. She swallowed a moan and he smiled to himself, pleased to note he wasn’t the only one caught up in what they were doing.

  He kissed her lips, subtly coaxing her responses, and then returned his mouth to her breasts. She gasped, and he took full advantage of her surprise to insert his finger inside her, delving between the soft folds of her femininity.

  She tensed and started to struggle, but he braced his free hand against her waist.

  “Relax,” he whispered. “This isn’t going to hurt.”

  Lightly he began to stroke her ultrasensitive flesh. It didn’t take long before she was breathing hard.

  “See? Didn’t I tell you this would be good?”

  Her eyes remained tightly shut. Murphy opened her legs farther apart with his hand and covered her mouth with his own.

  His head spun and his control was close to snapping. Letty was soft and wet and on the verge of climaxing. She wasn’t the only one deeply affected. Touching her like this was driving him wild.