Lone Rider Bodyguard

by Harper Allen

  “It’s true for me, Susannah.” Somehow the fact that he used her full name made it sound like a pledge. “I did some hard thinking, too. I realized I wanted to give you everything I knew you’d never had.”

  They’d resumed walking, and as they passed the open door of her room Susannah glanced automatically in. Joanna Tahe had offered her the loan of a proper crib today during her visit to the clinic, and now it sat in the middle of the room, only steps from her own bed. In the pinpoint glow of a night-light she could see Danny sleeping peacefully.

  Tye had been there at his birth. Tye had saved her and her son from the cold-eyed killer who’d been about to dispatch them both in Greta’s garage. Today he’d laid his life on the line, not only for her, but for the baby he said had made all that was chaotic in his world fall perfectly into place.

  He wanted to give her everything she didn’t have, but what he didn’t realize was that he already had, she thought tremulously.

  He opened the door to his bedroom. Gently he propelled her forward with a hand on the small of her back.

  “Just a minute.” The room was in darkness and he reached for the light switch on the wall, but before he flicked it on he stopped. “Nah,” he drawled. “Let’s pull out all the stops, honey. Close your eyes.”

  Promptly, she did as he said, the lightheartedness that had risen in her before again bubbling up. If she’d been asked, she thought, she wouldn’t have thought Tyler Adams could be playful. She’d seen the grimness in him and she’d seen the loyalty he felt for his friends. She’d known he could be an implacable opponent to those he went up against.

  But right now she was seeing another side of him. It was the side that would be up before his children on Christmas morning, anticipating their delight and not wanting to miss a moment of it. It was the side that would place a squirming puppy in a son’s arms and tell him it was his. It was the side that would stay up all night putting together a dollhouse for a daughter’s birthday the next day.

  “Okay, I guess you can look.”

  His tone was wryly amused, as if he knew he was indulging in foolishness and wasn’t worried about it. She opened her eyes, and for a moment she didn’t know what she was looking at.

  He’d lit the oil lamp on the mantel over the fireplace. There was a smaller lamp glowing on a bedside table, and a third on the dresser, its soft yellow light reflected in the mirror behind it. Like the other bedrooms she’d glimpsed in the main house—Del had informed her that his yearly crop of teens bunked down like old-time cowboys in a separate building— Tye’s room had a relaxed and masculine feel, with an obvious southwestern influence showing in the fabrics and furnishings.

  But there was nothing masculine in the jumble of prettily wrapped and beribboned boxes spilling across the boldly patterned woven cover on the weathered log-pole bed. Hesitantly she drew closer. They ranged from tiny to a flat dress-box-sized one in violet-strewn paper. She turned an inquiring look on him as she picked up one of the smaller boxes.

  “Who are these for?” Even as the question left her lips the answer came to her. “They’re for Greta, aren’t they? Oh, Tye, she’ll love opening—”

  “That’s what I told the woman who owns Last Chance’s one and only gift store when I phoned her this afternoon,” he interrupted laconically. “Like everyone else in town, all she knew was that Greta had been injured during an attempted break-in at her home. I guess Bannerman isn’t floating his drug-feud theory publicly yet, which might mean he’s had second thoughts about it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I told Lorraine they were get-well gifts from Del, and asked her if she’d have them wrapped and delivered here. They’re for you, Suze. Start opening them.”

  “They’re for—” As if it had suddenly become burningly hot in her hand, she dropped the box she was holding on to the bed. She sat down on the edge of the woven cover, her knees feeling as if they were about to give way. She found her voice again.

  “I can’t accept these from you, Tye. It—it wouldn’t be right.”

  She knew her objection sounded illogical. She’d told the man only minutes ago that she wanted to sleep with him, Susannah thought, and now she was refusing to accept his presents. But it is different, she told herself stubbornly. I don’t know why, but it is.

  “You know, I was pretty sure you’d say that.” He jammed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, and rocked slightly back on his heels. “I hoped you wouldn’t, but I figured you might. What if I told you they were your birthday presents, honey? Would that make it okay?”

  “But it’s not my birthday, Tye. My birthday’s in March.”

  “Better late than never, right?” His grin flashed out, but he seemed to be waiting for her reaction.

  Suddenly she knew how important this was to him. It was there in his eyes, it was in the studiedly unconcerned manner he was affecting, it was in the way he had sprung this on her, as if he’d hoped to melt her inhibitions with the element of surprise.

  I want to give you everything you’ve never had. There’d been a tenderness in his voice when he’d told her that. She picked up a squat, heavy box and pulled at the end of a curled ribbon.

  “Life’s a party, Tye?” She looked up at him, and saw the shadow behind his gaze disappear.

  “Eat cake,” he agreed softly. “Yeah, that’s a good one to start with, Suze. Leave the biggest box for last, okay?”

  It did feel like a party, she thought, carefully unwrapping the gift and feeling, in spite of herself, a building excitement as the paper fell away. Granny Lacey had always remembered her birthdays and Christmases with something she’d made herself, and every knitted scarf, every embroidered dresser runner, had been all the more valuable to Susannah because it had been created with love.

  But there was something glamorous about getting a store-bought present, she admitted weakly. She pulled aside the final layer of paper and gasped.

  “It’s French,” she said stupidly. She frowned up at him as if she expected him to deny it. “Tye, it’s French, isn’t it? French perfume?”

  “As French as the Eiffel Tower,” he said with a small smile. “But it’s not just perfume. It’s what Lorraine called a gift collection.” He saw the sharp glance she gave him and his eyes widened in exaggerated innocence. “I was on the phone with her for half an hour, honey. We were bound to get onto a first-name basis at some point.”

  “It took popping out a baby in front of you for me to reach that same point,” she said with mock tartness as she lifted the lid of the box. Even as she heard him laugh, she caught her breath again.

  “After-bath veil? Foaming bath?”

  “For that bubble bath you say you’ve never had.” He crossed his arms. “Plus a whole lot more stuff, according to Lorraine. I don’t know, maybe she got carried away. Maybe you won’t even like the scent. She told me it was one of the lighter ones, and I thought that would suit you.”

  Gingerly she uncapped a vial. Tipping it onto her index finger, she dabbed quickly at the base of her throat, behind her ears, on her wrists. She inhaled deeply, her eyes closed in concentration.

  “Oh, Tye, it’s Fox Hollow.” The unplanned words came from her in a rush. “You—you gave me Fox Hollow.”

  Her throat closed and she felt the tingle of tears behind her eyelids. She opened them and looked at him, blinking rapidly. “My mama had a clump of lilies of the valley in her garden, and I remember her putting a bunch in a water glass on my bedside table once. She said they’d give me pretty dreams all night. I’d forgotten that until now. This smells just like my mama’s flowers.”

  “You’d like to move back there, wouldn’t you?” he asked gently. “Do you still think of it as home?”

  Carefully she put the bottle back in its allotted place. She frowned, and slowly shook her head. “I’d like to go back for a visit, and I think I still have kin there. But you know, Tye, when I crossed over into New Mexico I felt this was a place I could put down new roots.”

  She put the box aside a
nd picked up another one, her gaze thoughtful. “I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s because the sky seems so big here, or because there’s so much space. It’s got everything—mountains and desert and grazing land and rivers. I believe I could live here.”

  It was true, she thought in faint surprise. She hadn’t put it into words before, but it was true.

  “Could you live in California?”

  His question was unexpected. Flustered, she pulled at the ribbon on the box in her lap. “I—I’ve never thought about it,” she said inadequately. She glanced at him through her eyelashes and saw he was watching her, his features unreadable.

  “Then think about it, Suze,” he said quietly. His expression lightened. “But not right now. Right now I want to see you ripping open paper, lady.”

  Her laugh was unsteady, and although she began opening the second present her thoughts were chaotic. It hadn’t been a proposal, she told herself emphatically. She couldn’t allow herself to think of it as a proposal. But if it hadn’t been, what had he meant by telling her to consider it?

  Her fingers were shaking, Susannah noticed.

  “I went about that all wrong.” His tone was edged. “I told myself I wouldn’t say anything to you until this whole business with Saranno was over and your life was back to normal. I’m asking you to take a lot on faith.”

  “Like what?” Her hands stilled.

  “Like is there too much of Marvin Adams in me? Like would I end up being another Frank Barrett, someone you couldn’t rely on in the long run?”

  “You’re taking a lot on faith, too.” Slowly she set aside the box she was holding. Drawing a shallow breath, she stood, and took an unsteady step toward him. “Tye, what if I’m no good in the ways a woman wants to be with her man? On my wedding night, I didn’t feel anything like I always thought you were supposed to. The earth didn’t move. I just lay there, wishing it would be over soon.”

  She bit her lip uncertainly. “You—you said there were more ways of making love than just the basic act. I want to try some of those ways with you. I want to know that ten years from now, twenty years from now, you’ll still find yourself in the middle of your day thinking about what we did the night before.”

  A few minutes ago he’d caught her off guard, Susannah thought. Now it was obvious she’d done the same to him. Under dark lashes, she saw his gaze widen briefly, and the blue of his eyes took on a deeper hue.

  “You sure that’s why you want to put me through my paces tonight, Suze?” he asked huskily. “It should be the other way around—you wanting to know if twenty years from now you’re going to go weak in the knees thinking about how I was the night before.”

  Her mouth flew open. “No, Tye, that’s not—”

  “And I don’t blame you one bit.”

  Easily he overrode her protest, and just as easily he bridged the slight distance between them. His right hand went around the back of her neck, sliding under the weight of her hair, and gently he pulled her to him.

  “What if it’s all just talk on my part, honey?” he murmured. “What if it never occurred to me to give you that bubble bath myself, to soap every satiny inch of you until you felt like you were on fire, and then to wrap you in the biggest towel I could find and carry you to the bed? What if I didn’t even think of untying the silk robe you’re going to take out of that big box over there, and stroking that perfumed lotion all over you? I could fumble the ball at any time, Suze. I think we’d better see just how well I can follow through on all this talk.”

  Slowly—very slowly—he brought his mouth down. She felt his lips barely brush hers, but instead of taking the kiss deeper he let his tongue trail along the outline of her mouth. Somewhere inside her she felt a melting warmth begin to spread.

  “When I first saw you I thought your hair looked like dark honey.” His eyes were closed. He murmured the words against her lips. “I wanted to feel it pouring through my hands and dripping onto my chest. I wanted to see it wet.”

  “Already you’re fumbling the ball, Tyler Adams.” She let her own lashes drift closed, and the swirl of sensations inside her intensified. With an effort she continued. “I think I saw shampoo in that fancy collection. Doesn’t that give you any ideas?”

  “I’m way ahead of you, sweetheart. You know, I’m glad that when Del renovated this place he added bathrooms for every bedroom.” Against her lips she felt him smile. “Next time I’ll sweep you off your feet and carry you in, I promise. But with this bandaged shoulder I’m sporting today, I get the opportunity to watch that sweet butt of yours walking ahead of me, honey.”

  Her eyes flew open as he made his point by giving her a light swat on her behind. He didn’t immediately take his hand away, but let it linger on the curve of her derriere.

  “You ever even think of going on a diet and losing this, and I’ll never forgive you,” he said huskily. “God, Susannah—don’t you get it? I like it that you look like a real woman. This—” against her rump she felt his hands spread wide “—this drives me crazy. The way your hips flare out from your waist drives me crazy. I’d like to see you in something that clings to every rounded, sexy part of you.”

  She’d told him she wasn’t experienced, Susannah thought, and that was true. But it didn’t take a whole lot of sophistication to know what was happening to the man when just by holding her to him he was providing her with overwhelming evidence of his arousal. She felt as if her face was suffused with color. No, she corrected herself dizzily, she felt as if her whole body was blushing.

  He took a step backward, exhaling raggedly. “Tell you what, Suze. I’ll go run that bath for you. You put on that robe for me.”

  He didn’t trust himself, she thought wonderingly as he left the room. Tyler Adams saw Susannah Bird as so desirable that he’d had to take a time-out, or risk losing that cool-edged, blond composure of his. She looked down at herself. He thought her curves were sexy. He wanted to let his gaze linger on them, let his hands cup them, see them without anything as inconvenient as clothing getting in his way.

  She felt a sudden thrill of assuredness. She needed it when she unwrapped the largest box and shook out the gossamer folds of silk it contained. The accompanying tag slipped into the enfolding tissue paper described the material as sandwashed silk. In the room’s soft lamplight, the garment’s richly glowing tones of dark gold and old rose reminded her of a desert nightfall.

  She felt wantonly exposed in it. True, it fell concealingly to her ankles, she told herself worriedly, and the deeply cuffed sleeves were roomy enough that she could slip her hands together in them like a muff. And there was nothing skimpy about the cut of the robe itself—it wrapped silkily around her with room to spare.

  But the tie belt was of the same luxurious material. And silk against silk, she discovered as she cinched the belt around her waist for the third time, slid sexily apart almost as soon as she secured it.

  Her courage faltered. She heard the bathwater in the adjoining room stop running, saw the half-open door swing back. Tye’s eyes met her suddenly uncertain ones, and then his gaze took in all of her.

  Hard color ran under his cheekbones. He didn’t speak, but just stood there, as if he were drinking in the sight of her.

  And just like that, all her doubts and worries faded to nothingness. She’d told herself from the start that they came from two different worlds, Susannah thought serenely. But that wasn’t true anymore. She and Tye had created a world of their own.

  Slowly she walked toward him, feeling silk against her thighs, silk brushing against her derriere. She knew without looking down that again the tie around her waist had loosened just enough to provide him with a tantalizing flash of creamy skin in the subdued glow from the dresser’s oil lamp. As she reached him he moved aside to let her enter the bathroom, still without saying a word and still without taking his eyes from her. He’d opted for the same old-fashioned illumination in the spacious bathroom, she saw. On a small shelf over the sink was another glass lamp, its light
warmly golden.

  “You’re beautiful.” The words came out so hoarsely they were close to a whisper. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him fully. “May I, Suze?”

  The flickering light threw shadows against the hard planes of his features and emphasized the faint sandpaper texture stubbling his jawline. The muscles of his arms tensed, and without waiting for her reply he let his palms slide slowly down the silk sleeves of the robe to the tie around her waist. Hooking one finger into the looped bow, he released it completely.

  The two edges of the robe slid open. Susannah felt the same scent-laden steam that was fogging the mirror instantly caress her.

  If she’d considered it beforehand, she told herself, she would have thought she would feel shy. She was standing in front of him with nothing hiding her, nothing concealing her. She didn’t feel shy at all, and only when Tye ran a light finger down the curve of a swollen breast did a slight self-consciousness assail her.

  “They’re the breasts of a nursing mom, Tye,” she said softly. “Up until ten days ago this belly had a baby safe inside it.”

  He let his hand slide farther down, and when it got past her rib cage he spread his fingers. “I was just thinking the same thing,” he said huskily. “I wish I’d been around then. I would have liked to have felt him growing in you.”

  He raised his head. His gaze was so dark it might have been part of the midnight sky.

  “I’d love to give you another baby, Susannah. When the time’s right, I’d like to make a little brother or sister for Danny Tye.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You know, Susannah, the Last Chance Café’s been up for sale for a few months now. Anyone who can make meat loaf like this should seriously think of opening a place of her own.”

  At Del’s words of praise, beside him Tye gave her a slow wink, unseen by the other occupant at the dinner table, Kevin Bradley. Susannah looked quickly down at her plate, pure happiness rushing through her.