Summer Heat: A Steamy Romance Boxed Set

by Carly Phillips

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, moving close to put her cheek against his shoulder. His skin felt extraordinarily hot and smooth. “I got embarrassed. You made me feel so good, I went crazy, and when the mood got broken, I felt humiliated.”

  He lifted his head. In the low light, his eyes were somber. He took her hand and put it flat against his chest, holding it there by putting his own hand flat over hers. “You feel how my heart is beating?” he said. The gravelly sound was back—that rough, low, ragged sound.

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “I’d let you feel what else you do to me, but we don’t have time now.”

  Tamara felt a wickedness of her own come to the fore, felt that lost sense of play returning. “You really won’t let me feel?” With a smile, she moved her hand lower on his belly. “Even if I ask very, very nicely?”

  His jeweled eyes flamed, and he pushed her hand down, lower. Tamara clasped him. “Very impressive.”

  “Don’t tell me—” he said in a raw voice “—this is your revenge, right?”

  She laughed—and the sound caught in her throat when he moved suddenly, trapping her against the seat by her wrists. “Two can play at this, you know,” he said.

  He kissed her, long and warm, and lifted his head. A perplexed expression kindled in his eyes. “I really like you, Tamara. I’m not exactly sure I think that’s good.”

  Her breath caught. All at once, she realized she liked him, too. Liked his gentleness and his vulnerability and his street-scorching sex appeal, but most of all his ability to enjoy himself. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He raised his eyebrows, and eased away. “I really don’t know.” With a sigh, he let her go. “Much as I hate to do it, we really should go check on Cody, see if he’s going to spend the night or go home with you.”

  “You’re right.” She started to unbutton his shirt, to give it back to him, but Lance stopped her.

  “Wait a minute.” He swallowed and his fingers on her wrists drifted a tiny bit to touch her breasts below the shirt. “If you take that off, we won’t be going anywhere.”

  “But I can’t wear it in to your mom’s house.”

  “No.” He eased away. “I’ll wait outside the car for a minute. Call me when you’re dressed.”

  * * *

  He needed the air, the air that had now gone chill with the mountain night, the air that filled his lungs and made him shiver without his shirt. He needed it to calm his racing heart, his raging libido, his soaring emotions.

  What a woman! As the cold air did its work, blowing away the strange, liquid hunger that had made mush of his thinking, Lance knew a sense of wonder. His instincts had not been wrong. Below that demure, slightly defensive and hostile exterior lurked a woman of singular passion.

  He liked that she’d been able to laugh about their misadventure. Her embarrassment had been fleeting and somewhat understandable—and he’d been relieved to find out it was because she’d been so responsive to him.

  He groaned, remembering. The taste of her, the way she threw her head back and clutched his hair, the furious, almost helpless explosion of her body.

  With effort, he shoved the vision away. They would have another night, another time. Next time, he’d take her slowly; he’d touch every inch of her bare flesh, taste every millimeter of that quivering body until she was out of her mind. Then he’d take his own pleasure.

  And start again.

  Shivering, he called out, “Anytime, sweetheart! I’m freezing out here.”

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this. It was a weird combination of things. There was plain, old-fashioned lust in the mix, but it went well beyond anything he’d ever felt. He didn’t obsess about women like this. He didn’t care that much, if the truth were told. He kept himself aloof. If he stayed aloof, he stayed out of trouble.

  The truth was, for all that he was outgoing, he was essentially private himself. A woman like Tamara protected her inner self with a hostile attitude. Lance had learned to act as if there were nothing below his friendly surface.

  And Tamara somehow reached below all that. When he was with her, he was aroused, but he also felt a strange kind of tenderness, a protectiveness. When he thought of being with her, he imagined holding her naked body close to his, but he also liked to think of holding her all night, next to him.

  “Okay!” she called from within the car.

  For a long, terrified moment, Lance didn’t move—stunned by the clarification of his longing.

  Ah, hell. He hoped he wasn’t going to end up falling in love after all this time. Not with a woman like Tamara, who needed a solid, steady man at her side, some man to be a husband and a father, someone reliable.

  Not a will-o’-the-wisp man like himself. He’d seen the damage his father’s nature had wrought in the life of a woman who loved him. He’d vowed long ago not to ever do that to anyone. It was one thing to be a good-time Charlie, on your own. Quite another to drag a family down with you.

  With a thickness in his chest, he got back into the car. Tamara was dressed again in the alluring blue turtleneck, her hair shining. He resisted the urge to kiss her again, afraid he really wouldn’t stop this time. “Back to normal, huh?”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “More or less.”

  The impishness in that expression nearly shattered his control again. With hands shaking from the effort of staying away from her, he started the car.

  It would be hard, but he had to stay away from her. She needed to find a man who was real husband material. Someone like his brother Tyler, maybe.

  His gut wrenched. No, not Tyler. Lance wouldn’t be able to stand it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Louise sat in her rocking chair, watching the two boys sleep. It took her back to her days as a young mother, when all she’d ever had time to do was wash one face, fix another meal, break up a tussle, feed the animals and keep supper warm in the oven for her husband, who worked fourteen hours a day.

  She missed those days sometimes. She’d felt important, valued, loved. Her boys needed her. Her husband, at least back then, had needed her, too—to keep him fed while he worked himself into a fortune, if nothing else.

  A soft knock sounded at the back door. Putting aside the book in her lap, Louise went to answer it, expecting Lance.

  It was Mr. Chacon. “I am sorry to bother you so late,” he said. “But I cannot find how to turn on the heat.”

  “Come in,” Louise said. Once again, she admired the thick black mustache, shiny and somehow sexy above the mouth that always seemed to be smiling. You couldn’t tell exactly, but his eyes had a twinkle that certainly suggested smiles. “It’s tricky, that furnace. You’ll have to wait for my son to get back-he’ll show you. Would you like some coffee, or maybe some hot chocolate?”

  He lifted a hand. “Oh, no. I do not wish to be a problem to you.”

  “No problem. I’d be glad of the company.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Louise nodded firmly.

  “Well, then, I would like very much a cup of chocolate.”

  “I like it with a little schnapps in it—how about you?”

  He shook head with mock seriousness. “No, I will not drink liquor in the company of such a beautiful woman. My passion might overtake me.”

  She laughed, charmed by the twinkle in his eye as much as the outrageous compliment. “I’ll try not to tempt you too much.”

  They sat at the broad pine table in the kitchen, and talked for more than an hour while they waited for Lance to return. Louise learned that Alonzo had come to the United States on a whim, hearing that there was work for adobe makers, and had gradually drifted farther and farther north.

  “You have no family?” she asked.

  “Three children, but they are all married now. My wife, she died of the—” he tapped his chest “—I don’t know the English. She could not breathe.”

  “Emphysema?”
/>
  “Yeah.” He tsked. “She worked in a factory. It made her sick.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He inclined his head. “I missed her very much for a long time, but it has been five years. It is not so sad anymore. My children are happy. That’s good.”

  In the long driveway, Louise finally heard Lance’s car. He came in a moment later, wearing an expression she had not seen since his youth. It was sheepish, a sheepishness he tried to hide with a grin. With her alert mother’s eyes, she took in the dishevelment of his hair and frowned.

  But when Tamara came in, unable to hide her blush, Louise saw Lance take her arm protectively.

  Louise smiled. “Did y’all have a good time?”

  Lance’s hand slid down Tamara’s arm and closed around her hand, as if to give the woman strength. “We sure did. Rode the Ferris wheel and got stuck.”

  “Oh, no. Not at the top!”

  Tamara widened her eyes. “Too close for me.” Her smile, shy and beautiful, flashed.

  “I’m afraid of heights.”

  Lance chuckled. “So is Tamara.” He nudged her. “Or at least she pretended to be.”

  “He’s so irresistible,” Tamara replied dryly.

  Louise gave her a wink. “He’s always thought so.”

  “Hey, no fair ganging up on me.” He looked at Alonzo. “Jump in anytime.”

  Alonzo nodded sagely. “I will.”

  “How is Cody?” Tamara asked.

  “Sound asleep. I gave them a snack and a quick bath and they went out like a couple of puppies. I promised I’d make French toast and strawberries for breakfast.”

  Tamara looked abashed. “He’s never had a grandmother. It’s something I always wished for him.”

  “Well, since none of my sons show any signs of giving me any more, it’s a pleasure for me and Curtis, too. The only reason we have children is to have grandchildren, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Louise wanted to ask questions, wanted to probe a little, to see if there had been some past connection between Lance and Tamara. Heaven knew, he sure seemed to like her.

  But Louise thought she’d know if Lance was hiding something. He was a terrible liar. If Cody was his son, he didn’t know it, and that might doom the budding romance between Lance and Tamara. Whatever you said about her devil-may-care middle child, he’d always had a strong sense of fair play.

  Tomorrow, she’d see if she couldn’t get a little more information. For tonight—

  Then she remembered. “Lance, you need to run down to the guest house and show Mr. Chacon how to light that old furnace before you run Tamara home.”

  “Sure. If it’s okay with you?” he looked at Tamara.

  Tamara went a shade or two paler as she cut an apprehensive look toward Louise. “I’ll just go peek in on Cody.”

  She was hiding something. Louise would stake her life on it. She stood. “I’ll show you where he is.”

  * * *

  Tamara walked alongside Louise, down a luxurious hallway, thickly carpeted and hung with family photos. Everything was neat and tidy, and Tamara thought with despair of her own haphazard housekeeping. She was too busy to keep things this neat.

  “You have a beautiful home,” she said politely.

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t have picked it for myself, but I have an army of help, so it’s not too bad. One thing my husband was good at was making money, I’ll give him that.”

  A lamp shaped like a bear glowed dimly in the bedroom, illuminating the two sleeping boys, side by side on a double bed. In sleep, the resemblance between them was not so marked, and Tamara realized once again that it was as much a matter of expression and carriage as physical similarities.

  “I just want to give him a kiss good-night,” she whispered.

  Louise nodded. Tamara moved quietly over the floor, sidestepping stuffed animals and balls and a plethora of toy cars. Bending over, she pressed a light kiss to Cody’s head.

  He stirred awake instantly. “I don’t want to go home!” he protested. “We’re having strawberries for breakfast”

  “Shh, you’ll wake Curtis.” She stroked his hair. “You don’t have to go home. I just came to give you a kiss good-night.”

  “Okay. Grandma heard my prayers.”

  “Good.” She gave him another soft kiss. “See you in the morning, slugger.

  “Night.” He was already back to sleep before she left the room.

  “He’s the sweetest child,” Louise said. “We had a great time.”

  “Thank you.” She felt better about leaving him now that she’d seen how happy he was. She knew Louise Forrest’s generous, loving reputation, and she’d known Tyler for a long time, but it was still strange to let her boy out of her sight—even if it was into the hands of his own blood grandmother. “I’m glad it worked out.”

  “You know he’s starting to read, don’t you?”

  Tamara smiled proudly. “Yes. He’s very bright.”

  “My Lance read early like that. It was one of the reasons he got in trouble so much when he was in school. They couldn’t keep the child busy enough.”

  A fist struck Tamara’s stomach. Louise was fishing. If she hadn’t figured it all out, she wasn’t far from the truth. As calmly as possible, she replied, “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Where’s his daddy? You divorced?”

  Tamara chose her words very carefully. She did not want to lie to this woman. “He hasn’t been around for a long time.”

  “I see. That can’t be easy. Cody told us you go to school and I know you work at the Wild Moose.”

  “Yes. But I don’t mind, really.”

  “We don’t, do we, not for the children.” Louise paused to look at Tamara. “I dropped out of college when Jake came along. I can’t say I never regretted it, but I did finally get my degree, just four years ago.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  Louise shrugged. “It was for me. It was the end of my marriage, but I think I made the right choice.” She frowned, pursing her lips. “Seems to me I remember you—Flynn. Was it your mother who ran the cleaning service?”

  “Yes.” Tamara let out a breath at the abrupt change of subject.

  “Well, of course. She did my house for quite some time. Used to brag about you all the time. You got scholarships left and right—weren’t you studying at CU?”

  Tamara looked down. “I didn’t finish.”

  Louise said nothing. Her blue eyes, so much like her son’s, seemed to penetrate deeply into Tamara’s heart, to see the truth behind the simple words. Tamara felt ashamed for the resentment she still sometimes nursed over the loss of that dream, and felt it was written all over her face. She never, ever regretted Cody, but it was hard not to mind having to pay with her own life for someone else’s mistakes.

  And yet, now, she would fight to the death to keep her son. She would wait tables the rest of her life to see him grow up strong and happy.

  “Things have a way of working out for the best if you don’t give up,” Louise said at last.

  Life had taught Tamara that was not true in the slightest sense, but she wanted to believe it was true for Cody, that finally the cycle of poverty and single-parent families would be broken. “I hope so,” she said fervently. “I want a better life for him.”

  “Don’t forget about yourself in the bargain,” Louise said, and led the way back to the kitchen.

  Suddenly, Louise paused and turned suddenly. “I know what I was trying to remember,” she said.

  Tamara waited, a fist of apprehension in her stomach as she noticed the tightness of Louise’s mouth.

  “Valerie was kin to you, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes. She was my cousin.”

  Louise nodded thoughtfully. “It was sad, what happened to her.”

  “It was.” Tamara hoped Louise couldn’t hear her heart. It sounded like rifle shot to her, or drums. Loud, anyway. If Louise put that much together, how much longer until she rememb
ered Valerie had had a baby just before she died?

  And how long before she put Lance home that Christmas?

  “Poor girl,” Louise said, pushing open the door. “I always felt sorry for her. She was crazy about Lance, that’s for sure. I was glad to see in the papers when she got married. It must have broken her husband’s heart when she died.”

  Tamara let go of a breath and made a vague sound of agreement. She sometimes forgot that Valerie had been married just before that wild affair with Lance. Everyone assumed the baby she carried belonged to her husband—and he’d left town, so he wasn’t there to defend himself.

  To Tamara’s relief, Lance was waiting in the kitchen.

  “You ready?” he said, standing up with keys dangling in his hand.

  Was she ever!

  * * *

  He dropped her off at her house. They had been quiet on the way down the hill. Lance walked her to the door, and Tamara knew she wasn’t ready for him to come in. Not with so many disturbing things to think about.

  He seemed to sense that. “I had a nice time with you tonight, Tamara,” he said, smoothing her hair over her shoulders. “I’d like to take you dinner or something, if you’ll let me.”

  God help her, but she couldn’t say no. Not with him looking like Thor in the moonlight, not with that promise of heady pleasure in his eyes. “Okay,” she said.

  “I’ve got to go to Denver this week, but I’ll call you next Sunday evening, and we can work something out.”

  That slow, deep quiver stirred to life in her body as he bent down to kiss her. She’d never kissed anyone whose mouth seemed to fit hers so perfectly. Or been kissed with such a heady combination of slow passion and heartbreaking tenderness. He lifted his head, his hand on her face, and for a moment longer, he looked at her. “Good night, Tamara.”

  “Good night.”

  She tried to go straight to bed. It was late, and had been a very full evening, after all. After a half hour of fitful tossing, she gave up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Carrying it into the living room, she put Bach on the CD player, and curled up in her chair.