by Debra Webb
His fingers moved over her skin, teasing, tempting, learning every rise and hollow, tweaking the nipple his mouth had just abandoned. He moved to her neglected breast and gave it the same thorough treatment. Laving the pebbled nipple with his wicked tongue. Cupping, rolling the fullness of her breast with his fingers.
Enough. She pulled his face up to hers and offered him her lips. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers…to look into his eyes again and know that this…all of this was for her. This had nothing to do with anything but the two of them. No one would ever be able to take this moment away from her.
His mouth descended upon hers and all thought vanished. There was only the sensation of his firm lips on hers, the hot seek and retreat of his tongue, and the feel of his hands on her skin.
He leaned her back onto his desk, clearing it with one broad stroke of his arm. The ache inside her became more urgent. His hands and mouth weren’t going to be enough this time. She needed to touch him…to feel him.
Her fingers tangled with the buttons of his shirt, tugged at his tie. He joined in the effort. Slung off his hundred-dollar tie. Ripped open his designer shirt.
She moaned at the feel of his warm flesh beneath her palms. The vivid male contours of his chest…the slight friction from the scattering of hair there. Her fingers found his waistband and she struggled with the closures there, all the while he kissed her…kissed her everywhere. Her forehead, the tip of her nose, her neck…the swell of her breasts.
He groaned savagely when she pulled him free. Her own sigh of pleasure hissed past her lips as she felt the weight of him in her hands. He was big and hard…perfect.
Dragging her hands away he positioned himself between her thighs and nudged his way to just the right spot. He thrust into her in one smooth stroke. Her eyes closed with the exquisite pleasure of it.
For one space in time they both held completely still, allowing the wondrous sensation to wash over them again and again. When she opened her eyes, his were still closed. She smiled at that, reveling in the idea that he was every bit as affected as she was. Those eyes opened in a heart-stopping show of blue and then he kissed her, softly, sweetly. His fingers found hers and he held her hands in his as he rocked gently inside her.
She kicked free of her panties and wrapped her legs firmly around him as he moved in and out. Slowly. Each drag of his thick sex pushing her closer to the edge.
Over and over he kissed her, whispered sweet words to her, weaving a sensual spell that almost made her believe that this could be real…could last forever.
The first urgent ripples of her release tensed her entire body. She arched to meet his firm thrusts. Needed him to hurry. To make it happen. To finish this.
As if he could read her mind, he increased the pace. Lifted her bottom for deeper penetration. Once, twice, then the dam broke, sending her over the edge. She clutched at his shoulders, arched her body more intimately against him.
She felt him tense…felt his thrusts become even more urgent. Then he came, sending a rush of heat against her womb. He pumped his hips twice more, draining the last of the release from her as well as him. Then he braced himself on his desk, his body hovering just above hers, those incredible eyes searching hers.
In that moment of utter bliss she suddenly wanted to hear him say her name. She wanted him to know to whom he’d made love…wanted him to connect all these beautiful sensations to her and her alone.
“I don’t want this moment to end,” she whispered, admitting the fear that burgeoned in her chest. This was all they would ever have and she couldn’t bear the thought…
He grinned, stole a kiss then whispered back, “There’s always the conference table.”
And just like that all else was forgotten.
They made love on the conference table. On the floor of his office. In the executive bathroom. Then they ordered pizza to be delivered.
After they had devoured a double cheese pizza, they made love again.
Not until dark did they return to Runaway Bay. Neither of them spoke during the trip, just like before. But this time it was an amiable silence. Amy relived their hours of lovemaking over and over, her body still hot and quivery.
Judging by the smile on John’s face he was doing the same. She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing one last time that this could last.
When he turned onto Stampede Lane reality crashed down around her.
She still hadn’t told him the truth.
And time was running out.
This wasn’t meant to last.
Chapter Nine
Amy sat on the edge of her bed and listened to the silence. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. The silent ride to church. The silence on the way to the Calhoun Oil offices in Dallas. The peaceful, satisfied quiet on the way back to Runaway Bay.
And now the silence that ate away at her like a rapidly moving cancer.
She sucked in a shuddering breath. She’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.
It had started out innocently enough. Not her fault. She wrung her hands together in her lap as she tried to rationalize how this whole thing had happened.
How it had spiraled out of control and turned into…this.
She’d only gone to deliver the report. Regina Winterborne had forced her into this situation.
Nate Beckman had all but wrestled her into the car and refused to listen to her when she tried to tell him he’d made a mistake.
Then there was the report. She looked around the room. Maybe it was in her suitcase. She couldn’t actually remember where it was at the moment. The information accompanying the report had been wrong. She’d taken it too seriously. Proving her worthiness as an agent candidate had been the only thing on her mind. The vivid image of the photograph of John sitting astride that horse flashed before her eyes.
Surely she couldn’t have had meeting him in the back of her mind all along? She closed her eyes and shook her head in denial. Yes, the whole idea of the “fantasy” had been intriguing. Being carried off into the sunset by her personal knight in shining armor. But that wasn’t why she’d eventually gone along with the mistaken identity.
She’d thought she was doing the right thing. She could prove herself as a Colby agent and save Regina Winterborne from the likes of John Calhoun in the process.
But Regina Winterborne hadn’t needed saving. And John was no bad guy. The concerns in the report were unfounded. She was certain of that. Though she wasn’t fool enough not to know from a logical standpoint that he could, in fact, be hiding something she hadn’t found. What she did know was him. John was one of the good guys. Rich and handsome, yes. But kind and compassionate as well.
Her fingers twisted together as she struggled to hold back the flood of emotions rushing against her composure.
She had allowed this simple mistake to escalate into an outright tragedy. She had fooled John and his family and friends. She had made a fool out of the agency.
There wasn’t much she could do to make it right. Somehow she had to clear up that last part. The steps she had taken had not been authorized by Victoria Colby-Camp. This was not the agency’s fault. The responsibility belonged solely to her.
She had to straighten this out. She almost laughed. That was probably too much to hope for. What she had to do was own up to the responsibility to those that it concerned.
She had to tell John the truth.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t intended to earlier. She had. She’d wanted to tell him this morning but he’d urged her to go to church with him and she just hadn’t been able to say no. Then she’d determined to tell him on the way home…
The stress had gotten to her at that point. She’d known what she needed to do but things kept getting in the way. She’d demanded that he take her to his office. Had she been thinking or hoping that he would confess to something if she pushed the issue? She was nothing but a desperate woman grasping at straws. He was a good man with nothing to hide. She was the one with the secrets. Coming ungl
ued after they dropped off his neighbors and insisting that he take her to his office had simply been the straw that had broken the camel’s back.
At least they’d been alone. She’d had the perfect venue for telling him the truth, for confessing all. This whole thing had started because she wanted to prove he was guilty of shady business dealings.
Then he’d made love to her. Remembered heat flooded her trembling body as her fingers fisted, grasping at her flimsy tether on control. The touch of his mouth, his hands on her body…all of it came rushing back in an instant. She’d given herself completely over to him, hadn’t been able to resist.
As wondrous and beautiful as it had been, it was the worst travesty of all. She’d allowed herself to fall in love with a man who didn’t even know her real name.
She had allowed him to develop feelings for her as well. But they would change the moment he learned the truth. That reality gave her pause, made her wish there were some other way. Any other way. But there wasn’t.
The truth had to come out.
First—she squared her shoulders and dragged in a deep, bolstering breath—she had to talk to Mildred. She didn’t want the Colby Agency being blindsided by this. God knew that when she confessed to John she might not be able to think rationally. This part had to be done first.
She picked up the telephone’s receiver from the bedside table and dragged it to her lap. Praying Mildred would be at home, she punched in the numbers and held her breath as ring after ring went unanswered. Mildred spent most holidays with her niece. Amy prayed this one would prove an exception.
Finally, to her immense relief, her familiar voice sounded across the miles.
“Mildred, it’s Amy. There’s something I have to tell you.”
To her credit, Mildred waited patiently, reserving comment until Amy had finished her story. It took some time since she broke down occasionally and had to take a moment to pull herself back together.
When she was finished, exhausted by emotion, Mildred said two words Amy least expected. “I see.”
Amy laughed. She couldn’t help it. Swiping her eyes she forced the amusement triggered by hysteria back into submission. “I’m done for, aren’t I?” She shook her head and managed a much-needed breath. “I’ve hurt John and I’ve embarrassed the agency.”
“Amy,” Mildred said with more understanding than Amy had a right to expect, “the notes you found attached to the report were not related to John Calhoun. That was included in the package by mistake. But I can see how you might have concluded exactly what you did. However, it sounds to me like what you’ve done is hurt yourself. I can hear it in your voice. You keep talking about Mr. Calhoun and the agency, but it’s you who’s hurting.”
Well, that was true. But she had no one to blame but herself. And she should have realized the additional information stuck in with the Calhoun report was a mistake. But she’d been so gung-ho to make a case for herself. To solve the unsolvable. What a screw-up.
“So.” She moistened her lips and bit the bullet. “What do I do now?” Actually she knew, but some small part of her prayed that Mildred would have an alternative answer. One that would prove less damaging.
“You tell the truth. Just as you’ve told me. If John Calhoun is half the man you say he is, then he’ll get over it. If he’s not, well then, he’ll just have to deal with it. That’s why the agency has hot-shot attorneys like Zach Ashton.”
Amy cringed at the thought of a lawsuit. She could see Beckman contacting an attorney straight away.
“All right,” Amy relented. “I’ll take care of it. I guess I’ll see you in the office on Tuesday.”
“Try not to beat yourself up so badly,” Mildred offered sympathetically. “Remember, it was a series of unfortunate errors and events, some beyond your control. You did what you thought was right and it simply got out of hand.”
Amy swallowed tightly. “Are you going to call Victoria?”
The beat of silence that followed finished shattering any hope Amy had of hanging onto her composure. Tears crested on her lower lashes once more.
Then Mildred surprised her again. “No,” she said. “I don’t see any point. We won’t go that route unless it becomes necessary.”
“Thank you,” Amy breathed. At least that was something. Another stay of execution. More than she deserved.
When she’d placed the receiver back in its cradle, Amy sat quietly for a while, listening to the silence again, hoping some kernel of wisdom would suddenly pop into her head. But Mildred was right, she had only one recourse.
Moving listlessly, Amy got up and went into the en suite bath to run herself a deep, hot tub of water. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of washing away the essence of John at first. She’d needed to know that he lingered on her skin. She could hold her sweater to her face and smell his enticing scent even now.
Before slipping into the warm depths of the water, she closed her eyes and allowed those hours in Dallas to whisper through her mind. Then, when her courage had solidified, she faced reality and slipped into the tub, washing away the sweet past they had shared and all hope of any future.
JOHN ROAMED the yard. Checked the horses. Wished again that he’d gotten another dog after Champ died. He shook his head and dropped onto the open tailgate of his truck. How long had it been since he’d thought of that dog?
God, years.
He’d told himself he was too busy for a dog nowadays. He spent a great deal of time in Dallas, and when he was on the ranch there was a tremendous amount of responsibility waiting. Liam would love the company, he mused. Maybe he should get another one.
Of course he’d need to run that by Gina. If this was going to be her home, she had input as well. A frown wormed its way across his brow. For the first time since he’d met the pretty lady, real worry twisted in his gut. What if she didn’t want to marry him? What if she didn’t want any of this?
When Nate and his father had first approached him with this harebrained scheme he’d flat out said no. But then, he’d thought about it and he’d known, from a financial standpoint, it was damn brilliant. He’d told himself that as long as the woman was willing to be the kind of wife he wanted, it could work. They could learn to love each other.
And then she’d waltzed into his life and all that had blown to hell and back. She was nothing like what he’d expected. The beauty, he’d anticipated. But there was far more to this woman than mere looks. She had a depth that startled him. She was passionate and funny and sweet. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. And, despite the hours of lovemaking this afternoon, he wanted her still. Could make love to her over and over this very night. Was certain he would never grow tired of feeling her come apart in his arms.
He hadn’t actually expected them to reach the point of lovemaking this weekend, though he’d heard otherwise. The fact was, she hadn’t felt like the experienced vixen he’d believed her to be from the reports he’d read. She felt…almost virginal. Tight as a fist. So soft and vulnerable. Two things he wouldn’t have associated with a more worldly woman. She’d allowed him to lead, though she’d followed readily, she hadn’t tried to take control. Another indication that she didn’t have nearly the sexual experience he’d been led to believe.
That startled him just a little. Oh, it pleased him rightly enough, but it scared him, too. Hell, what was he saying? It didn’t scare him, it overpowered him. He hadn’t just made love to her. He’d fallen in love with her.
Now there was a first.
John had never fallen head over heels for any woman, certainly not in the span of forty-eight hours. But there it was. He glanced toward the light gleaming from her bedroom window. He cared deeply for her, couldn’t imagine his life without her.
How ironic was that?
His cagey father had pleaded with him to go along with this whole thing…had worked overtime to convince him. Finally John had given in, having no idea that the woman herself would steal his heart before he could see the first ste
p of the scheme through.
Headlights bobbed as a vehicle meandered down Stampede Lane toward the house. Once the truck stopped near the house, the exterior lights revealed the make and owner.
“Speak of the devil,” John muttered.
His dad climbed out of the truck, caught sight of John and sauntered in his direction.
“Enjoying the moonlight?” J.R. gestured to the full moon hanging low in the sky.
John laughed. Actually it was the first time he’d noticed. He’d been too caught up in his thoughts to be aware of anything else. “Yeah,” he lied. “I’m a sucker for full moons.”
J.R. hefted himself on to the tailgate next to his son. “Where’s that sweet little filly? Liam said the two of you didn’t show up for the fine brunch he’d prepared.”
For the first time today John considered that he and Gina had taken off for Dallas without telling a soul. He sighed. Damn.
“Last-minute change of plans.”
J.R. leaned toward him and sniffed like an old ’coon dog. “Yeah, I can smell just how much fun you had.”
John scrubbed a hand over his face. He hadn’t bothered with a shower. The smell of sex as well as the subtle scent of roses still lingered on his skin…his clothes. Leave it to his old man to pick up on that right away.
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” John demanded defensively. Was he supposed to feel guilty for making “it” happen?
“That’s not fair,” J.R. grumbled.
John just shook his head. “It’s not fair, but it is what you wanted.” Now he was angry. It didn’t make total sense but he’d lost the last of his control. “You wanted us to hit it off, to seal this big deal with a wedding. Bedding the woman had to be expected.”
His father looked away. “That’s a little crude, son.”
Now the man felt guilty! And John knew the reason. It had all felt different when they had talked about some unknown person…some female suspected of being wild and wicked, thoughtless and selfish. But it was different now. They’d met the woman and she was sweet and…innocent. Yes, dammit, innocent. She was kind and thoughtful.
