Adler James

by Christa Wick

  “I know what you want,” he teased. “But you can’t have it today.”

  Her protest turned to a growl, but Adler persisted in his denial.

  “Let me have you like this,” he said, his hot breath fanning against her sensitive clit. “Let me give you pleasure.”

  It would please her to have Adler inside, Sage thought before he sucked her clit back into his mouth and her brain ceased functioning.

  “That’s it,” he murmured in appreciation, a third finger joining the first two.

  His lips left her clit to slowly tug at the fine blond hairs covering her mound. His thumb replaced the tension on her hot button.

  Fingers in, out. Thumb up, down. The pattern seesawed along her spine to reach every pleasure center in her brain. Sage moved with him, whimpering and moaning, her hands squeezing first at air and then at her swollen breasts heavy with need.

  “So beautiful, Sage,” Adler sighed, dusting kisses along her thighs as his fingers and thumb drove her closer and closer to release. “Beautiful that first day, barefoot and singing as you washed the dishes. Beautiful in the office, chewing on a pencil as you make everything run smoother.”

  Pulling back, Adler looked over Sage’s body. The arch of her neck, the upward thrust of her breasts, her nipples pinched between her fingers, the clenched stomach and thighs as her mouth trembled at the precipice of climax.

  And there, where his hand possessed her so intimately, her slick muscles squeezing him back in ageless communication.

  “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered one last time before his lips touched Sage’s fevered flesh and she began to sing in earnest.

  18

  “Rental,” Adler said as he and Sage neared the stables. With a flick of his head, he indicated the big, black Escalade with chrome trim.

  “How can you tell?” she asked, voice scratchy from the long silence that had fallen between them on the ride back.

  If Sage hadn’t thrown a couple of soft smiles at him or held his gaze the few times he brought his horse close enough to reach out and caress her shoulder, Adler would have been certain Sage regretted what they had done in that little shack in the middle of nowhere.

  She probably did regret it. To an extent, so did Adler. His passion had run away from him. Seeing her in danger made him crazy, igniting an uncontrollable need to possess Sage. But he had tried to maintain some semblance of respect. He couldn’t just take her in the moment, without any protection. If she stayed in Willow Gap—if she stayed with him—he wanted to be certain it was her choice, not an accident of biology.

  “Sticker on the window,” Adler answered, turning his head away so she couldn’t see the frown carved into his face.

  He didn’t want the interruption. He needed to talk to her before everyone got back to the house. He couldn’t make the same mistake he had after those early kisses or the blow up when he found her crazy little list. All those times, he had waited too long to clear the air between them. That only gave misunderstandings time and room to grow.

  “We don’t have any appointments scheduled,” she noted, pulling Calamity to a stop next to Adler and making a perfect dismount.

  “Probably tourists,” he said, flipping the reins a few times around a hitching post. “Or someone interested in buying the ranch.”

  “People just show up like that?”

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “Had one movie star ride in on a borrowed horse with a satchel full of money.”

  Adler risked a glance at Sage. What he saw made him laugh harder. Her eyes had gone big and her mouth formed a lovely O.

  “You’re putting me on.”

  “Not in the least, ask Mama.”

  “Who?” she demanded.

  Adler shook his head. “Can’t say. Daddy told him to take most of his money and ride back to Willow Gap.”

  Sage looked like she wanted to cross her arms in disbelief but was being mindful about the signals she sent Calamity.

  “I honestly can’t say. Daddy wrote up a quick non-disclosure agreement on how no one present would mention the whacky visit for a fee of ten thousand dollars.”

  “How famous?” she asked as Adler tied Calamity to a hitching post and helped Sage down.

  “About as famous as they come.” He took another glance, saw Sage tapping the middle of her upper teeth in thought.

  “Has the actor ever been in rehab?”

  That brought a chuckle.

  “Haven’t they all?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer. Her hand dropped away from her mouth, the lips sealing into a grim line.

  Following Sage’s line of sight, Adler turned around to see a man around his own age dressed in Dockers and a polo shirt. He had thinning brown hair and a stocky body. In his bare feet, he was about five-foot-eight, but the brown ankle boots had an impractical two-inch heel and a thicker than normal sole.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Sage whispered.

  Adler turned his gaze from the visitor to the woman standing next to him. She had gone pale, her lips almost colorless and definitely trembling.

  A fresh wave of protection surged within Adler. A few quick, angry strides brought him within arms reach of the man.

  “Whoa, cowboy,” the guy smirked. “I’m just here to talk to the lady.”

  “You’re trespassing,” Adler snapped as he waved for Royce to come over. “Get back in your fancy rental and head for the highway. Don’t come back or I’ll have you arrested.”

  “So you’re the hayseed who owns this place?”

  I’m the man who runs the largest cow-calf operation in the state of Montana, Adler thought. But he wasn’t one to brag and this man was of no consequence beyond the fact that his presence was making Sage visibly distraught.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” the man said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card.

  Adler ignored the outstretched hand as Royce took up a position behind the visitor.

  “Name’s Greg Lowe. Sage and I are very close friends.”

  Innuendo danced through the man’s tone.

  “You’re not very bright, are you?” Lowe jabbed. “What I meant is we…dated, right. Dated with a capital D. Of course, she was thinner then. Anyway, there’s some unfinished business, that’s all I’m here for.”

  “Do you want him to leave?” Adler asked without taking his gaze from the little weasel with the beady eyes leering in Sage’s direction.

  “Yes,” she answered, voice faint like it had been that day in the office when he found her list.

  When she was still hiding things from him.

  When she was ready to walk away and never look back.

  A hot fury whipped through Adler’s body. His arm shot out. His fingers wrapped around Lowe’s neck and he forced the man to walk backward to the Escalade.

  “Hey, stop,” Lowe croaked, opening up his wallet, a stream of hundred dollar bills floating to the ground. “You don’t have to be like this. Let me tell you who she is—what she is.”

  Still holding onto the man’s throat, Adler took his other hand and covered Lowe’s mouth and nose.

  “Boss!” Royce shouted, hooking his arm around Adler’s and trying to wrestle it from Lowe.

  Adler jerked away, his fingers running wildly through his hair. Lowe hit the ground gasping for breath. Royce quickly hefted him onto his feet, shoved him in the front seat of the rental and scooped up the fallen wallet and bills.

  “You’re leaving now, Mister,” Royce growled. “You were warned you were trespassing, lady said she didn’t want you here. Now go before you’re too busted up to leave in anything other than an ambulance!”

  Lowe pulled the door shut, engaged the locks and fumbled for the keys. Starting the vehicle, he revved the engine.

  The horses threatened to spook.

  “Never mind the mares. You get into the stables, Miss Ballard,” Royce shouted, arms flung out as a shield against the weight and speed of a nearly six-thousand-pound vehicle if Lowe d
ecided to run anyone down.

  Adler was only peripherally aware of Royce and Sage or the nervous whinny of the horses. His vision blurred, the only thing remaining slightly in focus was the little man behind the wheel pressing down hard on the brakes and accelerator at the same time.

  Step by slow step, Adler advanced on the Cadillac, his head down at an obstinate angle, daring the man to run him over, silently praying that he would get out of the vehicle again.

  Lowe had no right showing up, no right scaring Sage, making dirty insinuations, threatening her now with the vehicle and earlier with his words that suggested there was another secret she was keeping from Adler, this time to protect herself instead of Jake.

  Lowe took his foot off the accelerator, jammed the Escalade into reverse then slammed on the gas pedal again, kicking up a cloud of dust as he swung a wide arc, jammed the vehicle into drive and sped away.

  Adler turned to see Sage standing where he’d left her.

  “Put the horses away,” he barked at Royce.

  The man hustled to obey, quickly leading the mares inside.

  “Lowe is an opposition researcher,” Sage said, her voice squeaky. “He was looking to get fresh dirt on Templeton for the House run.”

  Adler dropped his gaze to the ground, picked up the card the man had offered and read it.

  Greg Lowe, Campaign Consultant

  “He signed up for an Excel class I was teaching. We had coffee. He was a good listener…”

  She trailed off, or Adler stopped listening. He wasn’t sure. His ears were buzzing. The need to rip the man in half for his insults and innuendos wouldn’t fade.

  He took a step toward Sage, freezing when he saw fear flash across the delicate features of her face.

  She had every right to be afraid. He had just gone crazy in front of her. It wasn’t even the first time. She had that kind of effect on him, a power no other woman had ever exerted over him.

  They needed to talk, but he needed to calm down first.

  Another walk was what he needed. Maybe once or twice around the barn, or up to the house and back.

  Nodding to himself, Adler turned on one heel and strode away, deaf to Sage’s entreaty that he return.

  The day was heading into early evening when Adler left the stables. Word spread around the ranch about what had happened. Jake came in early from the summer pastures. He found Sage in her office, once again staring blankly at the wall.

  It took a while, but he coaxed her into telling him about Lowe. She told him how, by the second coffee date, alarms were going off in her head because he talked of his frustrations with his own father. She had remembered during that long ago conversation about an old interview in which a famous writer revealed how he had lied about having a terrible childhood to get the infamously tight-lipped Marlon Brando to reveal his father’s alcoholism and violent abuse.

  Thinking she was being paranoid, she went out to coffee with Lowe one last time. She wasn’t attracted to the man, but her heart sank all the same when he folded his hands over hers, looked her in the eye and smiled as he said the words that ended their association.

  “Now, tell me about you. What were you like as a child? Did you get along with your parents?”

  It didn’t take much digging after that to find out who he really was. He had to take a photo to enroll for the class. She used it for an image search and got a hit of him in a similar pose with the same colored shirt on his LinkedIn profile.

  Sage canceled the class, refunded the students and hoped that was the end of her brief acquaintance with Greg Lowe.

  It wasn’t. Midnight calls, cards left outside her apartment. Pebbles tossed at her windows, followed a few weeks later by rocks. She moved, and then she moved again, but she never changed her phone number, never got a new one that was de-listed because it was one of her only lines to her missing brother.

  “I’m so sorry, sis,” Jake said, wrapping his arms around her quaking shoulders.

  She buried her faced against his chest, let him stroke her hair. She breathed deeply of his scent, memorizing it because she knew none of this could last.

  “You will always know where I am,” he promised, pulling slightly away and erasing one of her tears with the caress of his thumb.

  “And don’t worry about Adler. He’s just walking it off, probably pissed more at himself for losing his cool than at Lowe. Brody and Lindy weren’t wrong, but they really stressed the ‘masculine virtues’ with their boys. Chief among those being responsibility, restraint, and self-discipline.”

  Reading Sage’s face, Jake shook his head. “No way is he mad at you. Honestly, I think he’s in love with you.”

  Suppressing the sob that wanted to tear free from her lungs, she gently brushed Jake’s hands away. He was wrong about Adler being in love with her. Jake hadn’t seen his brother-in-law’s face, hadn’t looked into those midnight eyes and witnessed the sense of fresh betrayal swimming in their depths.

  Hearing little feet race down the hall, Sage wiped quickly at her cheeks and forced a smile to her face.

  “Back from Aunt Dotty’s?” she asked with false cheer as Leah ran into the room and onto Sage’s lap.

  “Show you,” Leah said, digging into her pockets and coming up with triangular pieces of flint and other stones.

  “Arrowheads,” Jake said, taking one and studying it.

  “All over,” Leah confirmed. Taking the piece back from her father, she held all the stones cupped in her hands.

  “Pick,” she told Sage.

  Running her finger over the stones, Sage watched Leah’s face for hints as to which stones she didn’t want her aunt to pick. Judging by the pucker of the toddler’s eyebrows, the long, orange colored chert was a favorite. The triangular piece of flint rubbed down by time to near transparency and sporting a chipped edge didn’t register the slightest line of distress.

  “This one,” Sage said, pressing down on the stone.

  Leah shifted the arrowheads to one hand, plucked out the pale flint one with its dodgy edge and handed it to Sage with a toddler’s awkward flourish.

  “Thank you, Honey Bee.”

  “Lovely choice,” Lindy said from the doorway.

  Sage looked up, studied the woman’s face and knew she had heard at least some of what had happened, that the news was probably what had delayed her in reaching the office at the same time Leah had rushed in.

  “Dotty sent us home with a big pot of stew,” Lindy announced. “I’ll get it re-heating. Shouldn’t take but fifteen minutes. Adler can grab some when he’s done with his walkabout.”

  “I swear I can smell it already,” Jake said. He ruffled Leah’s hair then tilted her chin up to make sure he had her attention. “Want to help me set the table?”

  “Minute daddy.”

  He chuckled at the toddler speak and the brush off.

  “Bring her out?” Jake asked.

  “Yes,” Sage answered, her attention focused on Leah as Jake and Lindy headed for the kitchen.

  “You sad?”

  “A little,” Sage admitted. Moving over to her desk, she pulled her tablet out from her bag and opened up Skype. Waking the office computer, she opened up the application on the desktop.

  “Come here, Honey Bee.”

  Leah crawled onto her lap. Sage typed in the ranch’s business ID for Skype on her tablet and initiated a video chat request. Leah, a professional Skyper at age two, clicked the button to accept the request. Grinning, she looked between the tablet and the monitor.

  “Two Leah.”

  “Two Honey Bees,” Sage agreed. Easing the mouse from Leah’s grip, she closed the chat window on the desktop and pointed at her incoming user ID, her picture next to it.

  “You know how sometimes Daddy has to work away from home and be gone for a couple of nights.”

  Leah nodded.

  “Sometimes I have to work away from home for days and days.”

  Lifting her hand, Leah did the little wave she used to indicat
e when an adult wasn’t making sense, or when she just plain disagreed with what was being said. Sage suspected it was the latter this time.

  “Just remember,” Sage said, tapping the screen. “You can always find me here.”

  Leah slid to the floor, did the stop-talking-crazy wave and walked into the hallway.

  “Eat now.”

  Sage followed after her niece. The small table in the kitchen was set by the time they reached Jake and Lindy. The stew was ready. The sun was going down. And Adler hadn’t returned.

  He wasn’t back when dinner was finished and the dishes cleaned and put away. He wasn’t back an hour later when Jake offered to go look for him.

  “Adler has his phone,” Lindy said. “He walked around the entire lake the night after we…”

  She cut a glance at Leah before continuing.

  “After we learned of the loss. Full moon out now like there was then. He’ll be fine.”

  “She’s right,” Sage said, turning away from staring at the family tree with all its copper leaves. Jake’s name was there beside Dawn’s. Beneath that was Leah’s leaf. All of the leaves had been earned by birth or acceptance. One day, there would be a leaf next to Adler’s name, but Sage knew it would not be her name.

  Jake had made the right choice five years ago in leaving Baltimore and a mother who, even at the very end, never wavered in her support of Steve Templeton. Her brother’s choice had kept him safe from the tabloids and opposition researchers like Lowe.

  In less than a month, Sage had brought one straight to the family’s door. More would follow if she remained. Lowe would make sure of that.

  “I need to do some laundry,” she said, gaze returning to the family tree with its six generations of Turks in Montana. “I don’t want to wear day old clothes to work tomorrow.”

  Jake shot her a questioning look. She offered a soft smile in return, no hint on her face that she was dying inside.

  “Need me to add anything to the wash?” she asked.

  “No. You sure you don’t have anything to wear tomorrow.”

  “Positive.” Sage leaned down and kissed the top of Leah’s head. “Love you, Honey Bee.”