by Susan Crosby
“Easy?” He doubted it. “Complicated, I think.”
“Good. I like that you think that.”
He stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles. “I appreciated your help.” Especially since he didn’t usually accept help from anyone. Of course, she hadn’t let him reject her offer, either.
“I got you into this mess,” she said.
“Yes, you did.”
She grinned. Her hair wasn’t dry yet, and it had begun to curl, a lot. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Her toenails were painted a deep purplish color. She looked even younger than twenty-four. It was a stark reminder of just one of their differences.
He went to the front door. “I need to do a final check on the animals. Make sure everyone weathered the worst of the storm okay. There’s a blanket chest in my bedroom. You’ll find bedding and pillows.”
Garrett shrugged into his still-damp rain jacket then a dry pair of boots. Pete came out of his doghouse at the end of the porch to walk to the barn with him. Abel greeted them and tagged along as Garrett made the rounds of the stalls and boxes. The new dogs were still wary, but they seemed to be getting along all right. The two new horses tossed their heads at his approach. He took a little time to talk to each of them, calming them.
The storm had probably upset them, as well as being in new surroundings. They would adjust soon. The mother dog and her puppies were snuggled together in a heap, Mama giving Garrett an I’m-so-tired look before tucking her head among her babies again. Mama cat gave him a similar look. They should all do well until morning, he decided. The light of day would bring new questions and problems, but also answers and solutions.
He and Pete returned to the house. Garrett had given up years ago trying to convince Pete to come indoors. Even during cold and rainy nights he liked his doghouse, always seemed to want to stand guard.
Garrett gave him a thorough rubdown before returning to the biggest question and problem, the one on his sofa. He hoped she’d gone to sleep.
He had a feeling she hadn’t. Even if she was bone-tired, it wasn’t late enough for bed.
The couch was empty. He glanced in the kitchen. Not there. He couldn’t hear a sound of movement anywhere. He hoped she hadn’t taken it upon herself to climb into his bed.
He hoped she had… .
Garrett found her in his bedroom, bent over his blanket chest and pulling out linens, his shirt riding up her slender thighs. He found it hard to believe she hadn’t heard him come inside. He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and admired her.
Her arms full, she turned around. “Oh! I didn’t know you were back. That was fast.”
“They didn’t require any work, just a once-over.”
“I’ll get out of your way.” She started to pass him. He didn’t budge. “Except that you’re in my way.”
It’d been a long while since he’d spent intimate time with a woman, and this one was more than willing. How long was he supposed to resist her eagerness? She was a modern woman who’d already pointed out that she was only interested in sleeping with him, so what was holding him back? It was exactly the kind of relationship he liked.
In bed, none of their differences would matter, not their ages or social statuses, not their upbringing or life experience. She would head back to Atlanta, their curiosities satisfied, the tension gone. She could return to her ivory tower, and he to his animals and—hopefully—peace and quiet.
“Garrett? What’s going on?”
He cupped her face. “Would you share my bed tonight?”
“Why?”
Her question so caught him off guard that his mind went blank.
“Because I’m here and convenient?” she asked. “Because we just saved a puppy’s life and we’re high on adrenaline from the experience?”
“I think the answer’s more basic than that,” he said finally. “You said you wanted me.”
“That was yesterday.”
What had he done to lose his appeal to her in a day? He didn’t know how to respond to that. He backed away, giving her space to get past him.
“Now I know you better,” she said, not budging. “And like you even more. I’m attracted to the whole man now. That could complicate things. For me, anyway.”
She was right about that. It could be a big complication. “Well, girl, that’s a decision only you can make. I’m drawn to you for you, not because you’re standing here bein’ willing. If that’s enough, okay. If not, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“First of all, I’m a woman, not a girl, so don’t call me that again. Second, this is all getting too unromantic to me. It’s losing its passion and spontaneity.”
“If everyone took the time to think things through, we’d have fewer problems in the world—and fewer surprise babies.”
Victoria didn’t want to lose the spark, didn’t want this to become some kind of business deal. She wanted to get carried away, to get lost in his arms, but she didn’t want to leave with regrets, either.
Won’t you regret more giving up the opportunity to make love to him?
Yes. A great big yes.
He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the hallway before she could tell him yes. “Good night, Victoria.”
Angry at herself for blowing the opportunity, she marched down the hall into the living room. She didn’t bother making the couch into a bed, just tossed a pillow down then yanked a blanket over her.
She heard a puppy whimper for a few seconds then stop. I know just how you feel, she thought. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her day had been long and tiring. Sleep should come easily. Instead, she lay there imagining what she was missing, hoping he was having trouble getting to sleep, too. She tossed herself onto her side, punched her pillow. He was probably sawing logs already. Naked.
Men.
Victoria rolled onto her stomach and groaned into the pillow. Suddenly she felt hands on her back, large, competent hands.
“Relax,” he said, bending close to her ear.
“What are you doing?”
“What I should’ve done earlier.”
He was romancing her, she realized. Caressing her.
She did relax. His hands felt wonderful on her back. He had strong fingers that massaged out kinks she hadn’t known she had. He found every one of them. He didn’t push her shirt up, but worked through the fabric, even over her rear. The blanket slid down and off her legs, then his hands were touching her skin at last as he worked his way down to her feet. His thumbs pressed into her instep, making her groan with pleasure.
He slid his palms up her legs again, this time pushing up her shirt over her rear, which he kneaded and stroked. He dragged his tongue over her, bit lightly into her flesh, as he slipped his hand between her legs and caressed with featherlight touches. Fire raced through her body, fast and liquid. Sounds came from her mouth that she’d never heard before. She’d known he would be gentle. She hadn’t guessed how sexy gentleness was.
He rolled her over, put his mouth on the hot, aching core of her. Backward, she thought. We’re doing this backward. We shouldn’t have started this way. She needed his mouth on hers first. And yet…
She’d never felt like this before, the center of complete attention, complete adoration. His tongue did exquisite things to her, making her rise to meet him then making her wait, almost there, then cold air washing over her for a few seconds, then his warm mouth again. She shook uncontrollably, grabbed his hair, arched her back. He rose up before she could climax. She wanted to curse and praise him at the same time.
His mouth finally came down on hers, his tongue meeting hers, dueling, demanding and yet not making her feel dominated. His chest was bare. She ran her hands over his flesh, felt the ridges of muscle and bone. He sat up and slowly, so very slowly, unbutton
ed her shirt, spreading it open, cupping her breasts, running his thumbs over her aching nipples.
“You’re perfect,” he said just before he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his teeth dragging along the hard flesh. He pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him, then he carried her down the hall to his bedroom, his big hands cupping her rear. By the time he set her on the bed and pulled the shirt off her, she felt light-headed but the rest of her body felt full and heavy. She’d wanted passion and romance. She was getting it.
He didn’t wait for her to help him take off his sweatpants, but he shoved them down and off, grabbed protection from his bedside table, then joined her in bed, stretching out beside her. He fanned out her hair, ran his fingers through the curls, dragged them over her breasts.
“How can you hold back like this?” she asked. Every nerve was aflame with need.
“When something’s important, you do it right.” He looked into her eyes.
“You’re making a memory.”
“Damn straight.”
Why? she wondered. Why did it matter to him that she take a memory with her? She laid a hand on his chest and memorized him, too. He wasn’t bulky like a weightlifter but he was strong and muscular, his way of living enough to keep him fit. She had to use the gym in her building.
Finally he put a hand over hers, stopping her exploration, pressing it against his chest. Then he kissed her, tenderly, thoroughly, passionately, moving over her without stopping the kiss, sliding into her slowly, filling her then pausing. His body went rigid, he made a low, guttural sound as he pulled out then thrust in. It was all it took for both of them. The mutual explosion was loud and fast and long…and excruciatingly beautiful. She felt connected in every sense of the word, heart, soul and body. A memory, indeed, framed in her mind forever.
She hoped he felt the same.
He gathered her close and rolled with her, settling her on top of him, wrapping her up, both of them struggling to breathe, to settle, to relax. She wanted to cry, so she burrowed her face against his neck and squeezed her eyes shut, staving off tears of magnificent fulfillment. She wanted to stay in his arms forever.
After a while he pulled up the covers but didn’t let her go. She wanted him to say something. She wanted to know he felt the same things she did.
Eventually he climbed out of bed for a few minutes. When he returned, they lay on their sides looking at each other. He pulled her leg over his, then draped his arm over her hip, splaying his fingers over her rear, the tips teasing her, making delicate circles, keeping her level of desire high.
“Nothing to say?” he asked.
“I’m pretty sure you could tell I enjoyed myself.” She ran a finger across his mouth. “Would this have happened if I hadn’t been stuck here?”
“Yes.” His gaze held hers. He didn’t even blink until she broke the contact herself.
It was exactly what she’d wanted to hear.
“Think you can sleep as you are, or do you want a T-shirt or something?” he asked.
She smiled leisurely. “I’ll let you know if I start feeling uncomfortable.”
“Are you sleepy?”
The sound of rain on the roof lulled her, as did the steady feel of his heart pumping against her hand. She could easily fall asleep, but she didn’t want to give up a moment in bed with him. “Sleep isn’t what I’m craving at the moment.”
“Craving? Hmm. That’s a good word.” He moved his hand over her breast, cupping her, running his thumb over her nipple. “There’s a lot more to you, it would seem.”
“I don’t flaunt.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She’d unhooked an extra button with him more than once. She let her hand drift down his body, finding him ready and willing. “I could say the same for you.”
Garrett sucked in a breath and savored her exploring touch. He shoved her hair aside, pressed his lips to her neck, tasted the perfume that was Victoria, distinctive and tempting. As their bodies warmed, he threw back the covers, sat with his back against the headboard and straddled her in his lap. He barely felt her weight, yet she was settled heat to heat on him. He lifted her, guiding her onto himself, letting her take him inside then go perfectly still.
“We fit,” she said breathlessly.
Too well, he thought. Far too well. Even knowing the consequences, he accepted what she offered and gave back in full. They merged and melded, found pleasure and satisfaction. Her mouth was hot on his, demanding yet yielding. Giving and receiving. Powerful beyond measure. Twice would not be enough. One night would never be enough.
She arched back, squeezed him tight, let out a long, low sound that reverberated through him until he couldn’t resist and climbed atop the same peak of pleasure. She collapsed against him, breathing hard.
It struck him then what he’d done—or, rather, hadn’t. “I didn’t use protection,” he said, panic twisting inside him. However well they fit together physically, it was all they could have.
“I’m on the Pill.”
“I don’t take chances. Ever.”
“It’ll be fine, Garrett. Really.”
He had to believe her, had to hope there weren’t any consequences for his carelessness. And for a long time he stayed awake, holding her and wondering just what kind of hole he’d dug for himself.
Chapter Eight
Garrett was gone when Victoria woke up in the morning. They’d made love somewhere around five-thirty, then he’d tucked the blankets around her and got out of bed. “Go back to sleep,” he’d said.
She had. For hours.
Victoria stretched, pulled his shirt on and went in search of him, not finding him in the house. The puppies jumped and whimpered at her, making her laugh, then she poured herself a cup of coffee and took it with her to the shower. Maybe he’d be back by the time she was done.
Her cell phone rang as she passed through the living room. She picked up the phone, saw it was her mother calling and noticed there were seven messages awaiting her, as well. All from her?
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Finally. Victoria, I have been scared out of my mind. I was about ready to book a flight. Where have you been?”
“I’m right here in Red Rock. We had a big storm and it wiped out phone service.” Victoria picked up a magazine from the coffee table, Saddle and Rider. Then she noticed her fingernails. Not only was her polish chipped, she’d split two nails.
“Well, I worry. Mothers do that.”
“If something happened to me, don’t you think Wendy or Emily would let you know? Unless you hear otherwise, assume I’m fine, okay?”
“You don’t have to get snippy about it. I thought the vacation was doing you some good, but you’re still uptight.”
Victoria closed her eyes for a moment. Her mother was right. She was being defensive because she knew she was doing something her parents wouldn’t approve of. It had made her secretive, and she was usually open, especially with her mother. “I apologize, Mom.”
“I’ll be glad when you’re home again and I can see for myself how you’re doing.”
“Despite apparent evidence to the contrary, I really do feel good.”
They ended the call on a happier note, then Victoria showered and went in search of Garrett.
Everything was quiet. His truck was in the yard, the horses in the corral, but no dogs were out and she couldn’t hear music or him talking to the animals.
She almost tiptoed to the barn door, then heard the sound of metal hitting metal, but light taps not hammering. Abel spotted her and woofed, then others followed suit, including Pete. Garrett came out from behind a wood divider wall she’d never paid attention to before. He looked guilty…or something. Definitely uncomfortable. Was he regretting making love with her?
“Good morning
,” she said, not moving toward him.
“Sleep well?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, something she’d never seen him do.
“Never better.” What was going on? He was the most self-confident man she knew. He couldn’t have any doubts about whether she’d enjoyed herself last night, so why did he look so hesitant? “You were up early.”
“My internal alarm clock never changes. The braid suits you.”
Her hair always kept falling in her face—and sometimes into muck. It seemed sensible to get it out of the way. “It’s practical.”
“You need a hat, then you’d be set. The Cowgirl Princess.”
She gave up waiting for him to make a move. She hugged him. His arms came around her, loosely at first then all enveloping. “Are you hungry?” he asked after tipping her head back for a lingering kiss.
“For food or you?” she asked.
“Given the number of surprise visitors I have these days, I would say food. I waited to have breakfast until you woke up.”
“How about I fix breakfast and you go back to whatever it was you were doing. Give me about twenty minutes.”
“Sounds good.”
“What were you working on?”
“Um, just doin’ a little work on a saddle.”
The um threw her off. When he chose to speak, he spoke well, without hesitation. It was almost as remarkable as the dropped g. “May I see?”
He made her wait a good thirty seconds. Finally he said, “What happens at the ranch, stays at the ranch, right?”
“Of course, Garrett.”
He took her by the hand into a room largely hidden from the barn section and reached only by a small doorway ingeniously blocked by another fake wall. She hadn’t thought about how much wider the barn seemed from outside than inside. Now it made sense.
And what a room it was. Organized chaos, she decided. There were saddles on racks, long tables with tack laid out, shelves full of boxes and tools, lots of tools, few of which she could put names to.
“What is this?” she asked, wandering around.
