From Here to Texas

by Stella Bagwell

Sweat stung his eyes and his lungs burned for oxygen. Beneath him, he could feel the inner folds of her body clenching him tighter and tighter. Her legs, which were wrapped around his, were like bands of iron velvet holding him down and inside her. Pleasure, too sweet to describe, swirled around in his head and throughout his body.

  He wanted these precious moments to go on forever and ever. But his body was a hungry traitor to his mind and soon he was spilling himself inside her, rocking their hips together with one final thrust.

  The physical exertion drained him and he fell limply against her, his breathing rough and ragged.

  “Quito! Oh, God! What have you done?”

  Fear instantly washed away Clementine’s lingering aftereffects of their lovemaking and she pushed at his shoulders until she rolled his back onto the mattress. Then kneeling over him, she wiped his damp forehead as he struggled to regain his breath.

  His lips twisted into something between a grimace and a grin. “Do I have to tell you? I just made love to you and it’s darned near killed me. That’s what I’ve done.”

  With each word he spoke, his breathing became more normal and she let out a long sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry, Quito. I wanted it to be good for you.”

  Groaning, he lifted his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her down beside him. She snuggled her cheek against his bare shoulder as he murmured, “Believe me, Clem. It was plenty good. Too good.”

  Closing her eyes, she touched her fingers against his scarred ribs. “Does it still hurt here?” she asked.

  His fingers began to play with her hair as his body began to relax. “No. It used to. But not anymore. I’m just short-winded. I guess I’m going to have to get back to jogging to get my lungs back in shape.”

  She opened her eyes and tilted her back just far enough to see his face. “Just don’t do it on the road, okay?”

  Puzzled by her request, he frowned at her. “Why not?”

  Slipping her arm across his stomach, she hugged him. “Because. Some insane person tried to kill you on the highway. Just think what might have happened if you’d been out of your vehicle. You’d be a sitting target.”

  “Not exactly. I’d be a jogging target,” he corrected.

  She gave him a little shake. “Quito. That isn’t funny. It’s nothing to joke about. Please say you’ll do your jogging here at the ranch or somewhere safe.”

  Rolling toward her, he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her up against the front of him. As he stroked her back with long, soothing motions, he said, “All right. I promise. I don’t want you to worry about me. Ever.”

  “How could a woman not worry about a man who acts like Wyatt Earp?” she asked teasingly, but deep down she knew she would worry every waking hour about him. At least until the man who tried to kill him was caught and put behind bars for the rest of his life.

  “Wyatt Earp lived to be a very old man,” he said. “Probably because he had a good woman by his side.”

  Was Quito suggesting he wanted her to remain by his side? Clementine wondered. He’d told her he loved her. And in the heat of passion, she’d admitted that she loved him, too. Which was true. She’d never stopped loving him. But she wasn’t so sure it had been a good thing to announce her feelings to him. He was going to expect her to stay here now. And that was one thing she just couldn’t do. Not and keep the both of them safe.

  “Have you made any headway in solving your shooting case?” she asked.

  “No. But we did pick up a bit of a lead yesterday.”

  Their bodies were beginning to cool so Clementine pulled a sheet up to their waist. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

  He brought his forehead against hers. “Because I haven’t exactly had a chance. We’ve been busy on other subjects.”

  She chuckled softly. “No. I guess you haven’t,” she said. “So what was the lead? Anything promising?”

  He drew in a long breath and released it. Clementine sensed the whole issue was weighing heavily on his mind and that bothered her. She wished more than anything that she could take all his worries away. That she could make him happy. Now and always.

  “Just a death threat in the mail.”

  His words were such a shock to her that her head snapped back and she stared at his face in the growing darkness. “A death threat? Oh, God, Quito! What did it say? What are you going to do?”

  Quito could feel her trembling and he almost wished he hadn’t mentioned the note. But in the long run, he knew it wouldn’t be good to try to sugarcoat the situation. Clementine needed to be aware of the seriousness of the threat. If nothing else, for her own safety.

  “I don’t remember the exact wording. But more or less that he was going to make sure the next time he’d get the job done.”

  Shivering, she lay her head down on his chest and pressed her ear against his heartbeat. “That terrifies me, Quito,” she murmured. “If something happened to you—I couldn’t bear it.”

  He circled his arms around her and breathed in the feminine scent of her moist skin. “It won’t. We’re going to get this guy. And when we do he’ll not see the light of day again until he’s so old he’ll have to be led around by a nurse.”

  “Dear Lord, I hope you’re right,” she mumbled.

  He trailed his fingertips over her soft nape. “The death threat could have been the shooter’s mistake, Clementine. We might find DNA on the stamp or the envelope. They’re examining it at the crime lab in Albuquerque now.”

  She tilted her head back to look at him and he could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. At that moment he very much wanted to believe that she loved him. She’d said as much. But saying words were easy. Proving them was another thing.

  “Do you think they’ll find anything?”

  He nodded. “I think so. But the real question will be whether the DNA will be listed in our crime bank.”

  “Well, why wouldn’t it be?” she demanded. “He or, who knows, maybe some woman wants you dead. So he or she is a criminal,” Clementine reasoned.

  “True. But not all criminals are caught. Some are never caught in their lifetime. Or this person might have been a nice guy at one time and something made him suddenly twist off and buy a gun.”

  “Why use it on you, Quito? Have you made anyone that angry around here?”

  He grimaced. “Not recently. But I’ve had a few swear to kill me in the past. It was all talk, though. Once they sobered up and got out of jail they remembered I was their friend.” He bent his head and pressed his lips to the crown of her hair. “Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Quito whispered. “Are you getting hungry?”

  “Are you?”

  Her evasive answer caused him to chuckle. “I’m starving. But I don’t want to get out of bed. Not when I have you here in my arms like this. It feels too good to move.”

  “Mmm. You’re right,” she said as she wiggled suggestively against him. “But if we don’t get up and eat, we might wither away.”

  “I couldn’t think of a better way to wither away,” he murmured.

  She smiled in the darkness and then her smile faded as she allowed her thoughts to turn toward tomorrow and the days following. How long could she risk staying here, she wondered. Could she chance a few weeks? And when they ended, how could she tell Quito that she had to leave?

  Oh, God, she didn’t want to think about it now. It was too painful and this was the first time in years that she’d felt any sort of happiness. She couldn’t help but feel greedy enough to snatch all she could while she could.

  Quickly, before he could stop her, she bounced to her feet and reached for her clothes. “Come on, lazy bones. You promised to cook me a steak. I want to see if you can cook as well you make love.”

  With a wicked little chuckle, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and bent down to retrieve his jeans. “Clementine, I promise you’ll enjoy every bite.”

  Thirty minutes later the two of them were sitting on the back porch at a table made o
f bent willow branches with a glass top. The chairs were also made of bent willow, the seats cushioned with red pillows.

  As promised, Quito had prepared steaks by searing them in a big iron skillet and letting them fry in their own juices. A New York strip for her and a T-bone for him. He’d prepared both pieces of meat rare, then added salad to their plates along with baked potatoes hurried in the microwave.

  Clementine had never felt so ravenous. Normally eating was just a routine she forced herself to go through in order to remain healthy. But tonight she savored each bite as though she’d wakened from a coma and everything was brand-new, even the food on her plate.

  Quito had lit three tall citronella lanterns near the table and the open flames flickered in the soft, westerly breeze. Across the way, she could hear the livestock tearing at the grass as they grazed along the fence separating the yard from the pasture.

  “The quietness out here is so lovely, Quito. You must enjoy it after working all day.”

  “I do. But sometimes it can close in on me. There have been times I’ve ended up talking to the cows and the horses. Guess they don’t understand a thing I say, but the good part is they don’t give me any sass,” he joked.

  She glanced down at her plate as she sliced a knife through the tender meat. “It’s hard for me to imagine that you’ve gotten lonely. Your work keeps you so busy. And I know you have lots of friends. I’m sure they invite you out.”

  He nodded. “On occasion. But I’m not much of a goer. I like being home. I guess I’m boring.”

  If only Niles had been that way, she thought grimly. He’d wanted to socialize every single night of the week. He had definitely not been husband material. But then she hadn’t realized that before their wedding had taken place. If she had, things might be entirely different now.

  “Why are you frowning, Clem? You look like you’ve just bitten into a sour grape. I hope my cooking isn’t that bad.”

  Wanting to reassure him, she reached over and squeezed his forearm that was resting on the table top. “It’s not the food. The dinner is delicious. I was just thinking about, well, maybe I’d better not say.”

  “Go on,” he urged. “I’d like to know what it is that can make you look so sad.”

  She glanced across the table at him and felt her breath catch in her throat. His strong, bronze features were bathed with flickering lantern light while the same glow left a sheen on the blue-black hair falling across his forehead. The passing years had matured his looks and honed him into the most masculine man she’d ever seen. Just looking at him set her temperature rising.

  “I was just thinking how my ex-husband loved to party and socialize. I got so tired of dressing up, laughing and pretending to be happy. It was a strain, Quito. If I’d been a drinker, I would have turned into an alcoholic. As it was, I became a nervous wreck. I developed ulcers and insomnia.”

  His expression turned thoughtful. “He doesn’t sound like the sort of man you would marry.”

  She made a disgusted sound in her throat. “I wouldn’t have if I’d really known him. Before we got married he appeared to be the complete opposite. He talked about hearth and home and children. Most all the things that women long for. But he was just feeding me words that he knew I wanted to hear. Later, well, I don’t want to talk about later. This night is too special.” Her eyes softened with love as she picked up her glass and held it toward him. “Let’s make a toast, Quito.”

  A faint smile touched his lips. “All right. What are we toasting?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She smiled at him. “Just being happy, I guess.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he agreed.

  She clinked her margarita against his then took a long sip of the icy drink. “To being happy. Now and always,” she murmured.

  And he would be happy, Quito thought, as long as Clementine was here with him, loving him, sharing her life with him. The questions that he needed to ask danced eagerly around his mind. Especially if she loved him enough to stay this time. But Quito couldn’t bring himself to voice the question out loud. If her answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear, the night would be ruined. His whole future would be ruined. He didn’t want to risk spoiling this time with Clementine. For tonight, at least, he could pretend the two of them would live the rest of their lives together.

  Both of them drained their glasses and as Quito set his back down on the tabletop, he glanced pointedly at her plate. “Are you finished eating?”

  A suggestive smile dimpled her cheeks. “Why? Is it past your bedtime? If you’re ready to take me home, I can forget about having coffee.”

  Reaching over, he curled his hand around hers. “Darling, you are home. I’m not taking you anywhere tonight. Except to bed.”

  Heat raced through her body. Anticipation sizzled along her skin and caused every muscle in her body to contract. How could she want him so, she wondered, when less than an hour ago he’d made thorough and complete love to her?

  Because he’s the very essence of your being. Because you love him more than your own life.

  She couldn’t argue with the little voice inside her. It had come from her heart. But acknowledging the depth of her feelings for Quito wouldn’t fix things. Short of Niles disappearing from the face of the earth, she didn’t know what could ever fix it.

  Trying not to let herself dwell on that dour thought, she asked, “What about the coffee?”

  Smiling slyly, he rose to his feet and gently pulled her from her chair. “We’ll have that for breakfast.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning Quito cooked for her again. French toast with maple syrup and thick slices of slab bacon. The coffee was hot and delicious and by the time she’d finished her second cup and most of the food on her plate, she felt like she’d slept at least five hours instead of three.

  “So, what are you going to do today?” Quito asked as they lingered at the table with their coffee cups. “You want me to drop you off at the Jones house?”

  Nodding, she said, “Since my car is there, I’d better. I still have plenty of cleaning to do. And I think the power company will be out today to turn the electricity on.”

  Surprise arched his brows. “You’re turning on all the utilities?”

  “Why, yes. I can’t stay there unless I have lights and water and all that.” She made a helpless gesture with her hand. “Well, I suppose I could. These past two years I’ve learned how to rough it pretty well. But I don’t see any need in doing that. I don’t mind paying the connect fee. And as for the water, I’ll have someone come out and make sure the pump on the well is still in working order.”

  His face was stoic. “I see. You’re planning to stay there full-time. Rather than here.”

  Clementine tried not to flinch at the emptiness she heard in his voice. If only he knew how much she wanted to stay with him, full-time, she thought. If only she could tell him how she actually felt. But the moment she did, she would be committing herself. And she couldn’t do that. Not when just being here might bring wrath down on both of them.

  “Well, I suppose. You wouldn’t want me getting underfoot here and I don’t want to be a bother,” she reasoned in a careful voice.

  He placed his coffee cup on the table and leaned back in his chair to study her through narrowed eyes. At that moment Clementine understood what the term steely-eyed warrior meant. He might as well have painted stripes on his cheekbones because it was obvious he was about to go on the warpath.

  “You see yourself as a guest here?” he asked far too quietly.

  “Not exactly,” she said, then shaking her head, she put her cup aside and leaned across the table toward him. “But, Quito, you have a job, a life apart from mine. I don’t want to push myself into it.”

  “Who said you’d be pushing?”

  “No one.” She heaved out a heavy breath and started again. “Do you want me to stay here, with you?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw and then he shrugged. “Do what
ever you want. You will anyway.”

  Clementine supposed she deserved that. She’d hurt him terribly. But how could she try to make it up to him now? To do that might eventually cause him far more hurt than happiness.

  Tears were suddenly burning her throat as she stared wretchedly across the room. “You’re sounding childish now,” she finally managed to say.

  “I think I have a right to.”

  She swallowed, then blinking at the moisture collecting in her eyes, she turned her gaze back to him. “Maybe it was a mistake for me to stay here last night,” she said hoarsely. “Maybe you’re expecting too much from me.”

  “I thought last night meant something to you.”

  Unable to face him any longer, Clementine rose to her feet and walked over to a door leading outside. The top half was made of pane glass and she stared unseeingly at the rolling desert hills surrounding Quito’s property.

  “It meant everything to me,” she said in a choked voice.

  He didn’t make any sort of reply and she was thinking he must be too angry to speak when his hands came down on the back of her shoulders. She hadn’t heard him leave his chair or cross the room and his unexpected touch caused her to jump.

  “I’m sorry, Clem.” Bending his head, he nuzzled the side of her neck. “I know I’m acting possessively. And I know I don’t have any right. But—” He paused as he slid his arms around her waist. “It’s good to have you here with me. And I want us to have more time together. Is that so bad?”

  A little cry sounded in her throat as she twisted in his arms and buried her face against his chest. His hard warm body instantly enveloped her with incredible pleasure and a sense of security that only he could give her.

  “Oh, Quito. Please understand. I can’t make any promises now. This is all so new. When I came up here I didn’t plan on this happening with you and me. I need time to think about it.” Lifting her face, she did her best to smile at him. “Besides, once I get the house all clean, I’d like for you to stay with me in the Jones House. It’s been empty too long. It needs some noise bounced off the walls.”