by Carol Devine
"No, you don't," he said, wrapping her waist. "We've been vanquished. We have to lie here a minute while she exits the field of battle and hides her trophy inside. Otherwise, she'll think we're ready for another round."
"You mean we're supposed to play dead?"
"Something like that."
She collapsed on top of him, gasping for breath. Abruptly she wilted and let her head drop like a rock on his chest. "How's that?" she asked after a moment.
"Not bad," he said and mussed her hair, thinking if she could joke about death, she'd come a long way since their conversation about her father yesterday morning. "Now watch a real master."
She lifted her head and grinned. He paused for effect, then stiffened and widened his eyes as though stabbed by great pain, rolling them both over so he was on top of her. Shuddering, he positioned his weight carefully before going into the final throes of agony. Beneath him, mirth shook her body.
"How could you laugh at a time like this?" he complained. "I'm dying."
"Most people don't smile while they're doing it," she observed dryly.
He levered up on his elbows to look down at her. "They do if they think they're going to heaven."
"Oh, really? Is the humble Mr. Masterson absolutely certain he's on his way to heaven?"
"Actually, no." His palm stroked her hair back from her forehead, quieting her with a single caress. "I'm already there. You're my heaven."
Her eyes locked with his. "And you're mine. "
"I need to tell you something, Mandy. You may think I'm moving way too fast, but when I want something, I go after it, no holds barred." He kissed her brow and the soft wispy hair at her temple. "I love you. I want you in my life. Permanently."
She caught her breath, her eyes wide and blue as the sky. "Bram, you hardly know me.”
"I know what's important to you. Your career. Your family. My ranch. Tasha, Ebony and Zeus. The rest I'm willing to take on faith."
She stared at him, envious and a little amazed by his certainty. "I'm not the easiest person in the world to get along with. Relaxation gives me hives. I've got fingers in a dozen pies, I work long hours, I'm hardly ever home for dinner."
"I'm not asking you to change." She raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. "Well, maybe the dinner part. You're too damn skinny."
"Skinny!"
"Skinny," he confirmed. "I bet I know exactly what's in your refrigerator. Celery sticks and diet coke."
Amanda wrinkled her nose and wreathed her arms around his neck. "You're wrong. It's carrot sticks and diet coke. There's a big difference, Mr. Know-it-all. I hate celery."
"See?” He nuzzled the side of her throat." I'm learning more about you every day."
Her fingers tightened on his neck. "Bram?"
"Yeah?" His voice was muffled by the rolled collar of her robe.
"How do you feel about children?"
He lifted his head and searched her face. "We'd make beautiful kids, Mandy. What do you think?"
"I'd like to have kids someday but I think raising children should be done by both parents. You should know I’m the world’s worst housekeeper. I can’t cook worth beans. I don't want to give up my career completely in order to have a family."
"You think I'm looking for a housekeeper or a cook or a stay-at-home mom? I'm looking for a woman who can dish it out as well she takes it. A woman who stands up for what she believes in. A woman who's not afraid of lions and tigers and big beary men. In short, Mandy, I'm looking for you."
She pressed her forehead to his in inarticulate answer, overcome by what he'd said. Lips brushed hers in a chaste kiss, honoring the solemnity of the moment. Yet Amanda felt more than honored. To be cherished in such a way was a rare and powerful thing. Warmth sprang from a place deep within her heart. The feeling spread and pulsed everywhere their bodies touched, making her conscious of his maleness, of his tremendous size and strength. He lay half on top of her with his hips cradled between her slightly parted thighs, his weight supported on his elbows. His forearms bracketed her head, leaving his hands free to caress her hair.
A hot, sweet rush of anticipation swept through her. She closed her eyes to savor it, reveling in her heightened senses. Thank God for loose robes and naked skin. The whisper of a breeze through trees underscored the rapid rush of her heart and the swelling of her body. She breathed in, filled her lungs, and smelled the tang of Kentucky bluegrass mixed with the redolence of summer baked earth. She felt the resilient ground flatten her spine and the tickle of crushed stems at the back of her knees. But mostly she heard, smelled and felt Bram.
He sighed her name, soft and low. She opened her eyes and smiled, answering by running a provocative stroke down his back. Quickly, she slipped her hands under the waistband of his shorts, amazed not at the speed of her arousal, or his, but at her audacity. After all, they were outdoors. She'd never made love outdoors before. In truth, she'd never wanted to risk doing something this brazen, this immodest. Except modesty and Bram did not go together. He'd shown her as much yesterday, shown her with loving words and lengthy kisses and a long slow buildup to incredible passion. She wanted to show him she could give as good as she got.
She peeled off his shorts and delighted when she found him bare underneath. The bunched muscles beneath her roving hands quivered with barely leashed restraint. She shifted and tilted upward in feminine invitation.
Bram groaned. Merely being physically close to Mandy made him hard. But her teasing forced him to react with a violence he couldn't contain, much as he should. He'd never meant to seduce her in full view of all creation. That was his favorite fantasy. It certainly wouldn't be one of hers.
He tried to hide the extent of his arousal by levering upward to protect her from being crushed under his weight. She whimpered and reached down to cup the most vulnerable part of him. Unable to hide his gasp of pleasure, he paused, shivering in ecstasy. Whatever superior strength he possessed was held hostage by the persuasion of her hands.
She grew bolder and moved to explore the rest of him, smearing fluid from his throbbing tip along his entire length. He nearly lost consciousness, wanting nothing more than to toss away restraint and bury himself deep inside her core. Except their foreplay had barely begun. She wouldn't be ready. Neither would he last long enough to make her ready. Already sweat beaded his brow and a delicious ache coiled deep within his loins. Caught between his pleasure and her inevitable pain, his need and her fulfillment, he pulled back.
"No," she said and tugged with her hands, forcing him closer, nearer. "I need you now."
"I'll hurt you," he said, the edge in his voice an apology. He didn't have the strength to resist. Already, his eager flesh probed hers .
"Never," she said.
He gave in with a great shudder, the power of his initial thrust fueled by an instinct so primal, he lost all control. He tunneled deep and fast, cresting an incredible wave of sensation. She was tight and hot and unbelievably, deliciously wet.
He exploded from within. Her arms tightened around his waist, pulling him down. He let go of all inhibitions, covering her with his full weight, his full strength, driven by her slippery heat. With each new thrust, pleasure ripped through him. She rocked to·meet him, her breath coming in rhythmic pants. He heard her sob but couldn't hold back. With one final thrust, he fully buried himself and collapsed.
He lay still, energy spent, and rested his head in the sheltered space of her shoulder, remorse clouded by a sensual haze. He knew he should get off her. He was too big, too heavy. He didn't move. The muscles of his arms and legs refused to acknowledge his vague commands.
Sunshine poured like warm honey over his naked back. He always enjoyed the feel of the sun, yet it was nothing compared to the sweet heat generated by the woman beneath him. Tiny aftershocks still caressed his sheathed length. He jerked and held his breath, hoping he hadn't hurt her further. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Surprised, he lifted his head to gaze at her face. A fine sh
een of perspiration made her skin glow. Hooded by slumberous lids, her eyes focused on him slowly, dilating as he watched.
The tip of her tongue touched her upper lip and she began to pant again.
He didn't know how he could have missed the meaning of her broken sob. And here she was, ready a second time, willing but not quite able.
"You like?" he murmured, tightening the part of his body still buried within her.
She moaned an answer. He chuckled, loving the sexy look of her and repeated the action. Her breathing changed. Nipples beaded against his chest. Healthy pink flushed her cheeks. He felt her release in a flood of new and intoxicating heat. She arched, taking him in deeper. He'd never felt anything quite like it. Blood rushed from his head, gathering where his body joined hers. Recovery came with pounding force, quickening his heart, his soul. He stroked her face in half disbelief. Opening her eyes, she whispered his name.
"Oh, Bram."
The throbbing torture began anew, only he drew it out this time, making her eyes dilate over and over until he couldn't hold back any more .
"Mandy, I love you," he said, punctuating his first full thrust. Every muscle in his body tensed, mirroring the tight squeeze within. He thrust again, finding a rhythm, hearing his voice repeat one word. "Love, love, love, love … you … you … you."
When her hips rose up, he drove into her, smothering her scream of release with his own shattering cry. Both sounds echoed of the high wall of the cliff and were lost in the endless whispers of the trees above .
They lay together for some time before Bram rolled onto his side and drew her within the shelter of his body. Eventually, they fell asleep, awakening in early afternoon to a different hunger. Hand in hand, they sauntered to the kitchen and prepared a huge meal, feasting on fruit and cheese, corned beef sandwiches and Fig Newtons. After showering, they dressed. He gave her a pair of overalls and a soft t-shirt to wear. She rolled up the sleeves and the pant legs as though she were a girl again, playing dress-up. They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the ranch on horseback, returning at dusk. Mrs. Barton had left dinner warming in the oven.
They didn't get to it until midnight.
When Monday morning dawned, for the first time in her life, Amanda Tarkenton called in sick.
Chapter Thirteen
"Miss Tarkenton, just one question!"
Amanda vehemently shook her head and shoved through the tumult of reporters, photographers and digital camera operators gathered in the lobby of her office building, using her briefcase as a shield.
Shouts rained on her anyway, the cacophony of demands like verbal blows .
"Now that you've dropped the lawsuit, how do you justify your stance on victim's rights?"
"Why didn't you appear at the press conference which announced your settlement with the Beastmaster?"
"We understand you and he have worked out your differences in more ways than one. Care to comment?"
"Some opinion columnists are calling you a turncoat for dropping your case against Masterson. What's your response?"
"What does your family have to say about all this?"
"Please, Miss Tarkenton! A word!"
Tom the security guard gripped her elbow and hustled her into the waiting elevator, sheltering her from the strobe of camera flashes. Just before the doors closed, he jumped inside.
"It's worse than ever tonight," he said, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. "After three weeks of this, you'd think they'd learn by now that you aren't going to answer any questions.”
Amanda collapsed against the wall and rubbed her throbbing temples . Her red knit dress, chosen specifically because it didn't wrinkle, was soaked with perspiration. She hated this kind of media scrutiny. It offended every rule of propriety and privacy she'd ever lived by. "I'm beginning to wonder if it will ever end," she said.
"You're not the only one. We've had to work double shifts since the news hit the papers that you'd dropped the lawsuit."
Amanda felt a twinge of regret. Since she'd instructed her attorney to withdraw the complaint, there had been nothing but controversy. Feminists had given her flack for capitulating to the Beastmaster, the epitome of brute masculinity. Civil rights advocates had skewered her for abandoning her principles.
Her mother had been appalled, especially when the Tarkenton name was repeatedly linked with Bram's. Rumors about the extent of their relationship were flying. Even wrestling fans had gotten into the act, calling for her to appear at his comeback match scheduled for next week at the Super Dome. Consequently, the press, ever on the lookout for character flaws in the rich and famous, had zeroed in on her. Boggs, her boss, was up in arms over the continuous media buzz and the city had to shell out extra money to beef up security for the D.A. 's office.
"It's been a hell of a three weeks," Amanda admitted.
"That it has, Ms . Tarkenton. That it has. You don't know how many of them reporters been offering me money for an exclusive interview about you and the Beastmaster."
"I appreciate your discretion. Unfortunately not everyone has been as honorable as you." Amanda thought of Hardy, Bram's so-called manager, who seemed bent on milking the publicity for all it was worth. Bram wouldn't let him, of course, but given the sleazy way the man operated, she had a feeling it was only a matter of time.
Tom took her briefcase and patted her arm awkwardly. "You don't pay no mind to what they're writing in those rag newspapers or saying on Celebrities Tonight or ZMZ."
Amanda sighed. If only she could. Speculation was that she and Bram were carrying on a torrid love affair. The truth of the allegation only made it more difficult for her to defend. So far, she hadn't given a definitive answer about her relationship with Bram to anyone except her friend Julie.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the parking garage.
Here milled a smaller crowd, most of them uniformed police and building security personnel. In the middle stood Bram, wearing his disguise, mirrored sunglasses, hair under a baseball cap, pressed slacks and a blue sportcoat. All she had to do was step out of the elevator and he opened his arms.
"Bad day?" he asked, fitting her head beneath his chin.
"The worst," she confirmed, but allowed herself only a moment of solace in his embrace. She pulled away, too aware of the people surrounding them. "I'll tell you about it later. Where's Julie?"
"She's in your car, ready to go ."
"Let me say hello before we leave for the ranch."
Bram nodded, took her briefcase from Tom and trailed her to the Cadillac, reading her tension in the staccato snap of her heels on the concrete floor. Since the press conference announcing the settlement of the lawsuit and his return to wrestling, the prying attention they'd received hadn't surprised him. It had surprised her. For someone who'd been raised in the apple of the public eye, she was not handling it well at all. Only when they were amid the relative solitude of the ranch did she let her guard down.
Julie powered down the car window at Amanda's approach, her blonde wig askew. "You look beat. Problems?"
"A few," Amanda admitted and bent to give her friend a brief hug, fixing the wig in the process. Julie wore the exact same red dress she did. "You know what's happening with the press. Boggs called me on the carpet about it again today. He is not a happy camper."
"What did he say this time?"
Amanda straightened, reluctant to go into it. But Julie had done so much for her the past few weeks, she summoned a smile and tried to make light of what had transpired with her boss. "The bad news is, he's totally put out by all the coverage. Says it reflects badly on my credibility and the dignity of the office. He won’t assign me any cases until this whole thing blows over, if it blows over. The good news is, he hasn't fired me yet."
Julie squeezed her hand. "Hang in there, baby."
"You know I will," Amanda said. With great effort, she stepped back and made a grand gesture toward Julie's attire.
"You look smashing, as always. Thanks for being my
decoy again tonight."
"I must say, the last few weeks have resulted in an unexpected boon to my wardrobe. It's a good thing I like your taste."
"The wig looks like it might fall off any second. Let me fix it for you."
"Please do. I'm not as good at this cloak and dagger stuff as you are."
"Comes from having to ditch those bodyguards who were assigned to protect me when I was young." Amanda fussed the blonde wig into place and tucked in a couple of stray red curls.
"Thanks." Julie caught Amanda's hand. "You need to talk?"
Amanda shook her head. "Bram and I have to get out of here before the hordes descend. If I have time later, I'll give you a call."
"You know the number."
"I certainly do," Amanda said, her smile less forced. Funny how the mere mention of Bram's name made her feel better. At least there was one thing in her life that was going well. "Don't forget to pick up the mail and water my plants," she said and wagged a finger at Julie.
"Your plants never had it so good. You're going to owe me big on this one, Tarkenton. We're talking bridesmaid or at the very least overseeing the signing of the guest book."
"Shhh," Amanda hushed. But she couldn't resist a conspiratorial wink. "He'll hear you. Besides, it's only been three weeks."
"Three weeks of constant togetherness. I know true love when I see it. Better set the wedding date now."
"Julie!"
"I'm going, I'm going." She started the engine and put the Cadillac in gear. "See you lovebirds tomorrow. Same time, same place. "
Amanda waved before joining Bram in the cab of Jeep Cherokee. "Who's car are we borrowing tonight?" she asked, taking the sunglasses he handed her.
"According to the guards, it belongs to Paul Davis."
"I know him. He's an investigator in the Fraud division."
"How appropriate," Bram said dryly while helping her pull on his bulky denim jacket.
"Yes, I suppose it is." She leaned forward, smoothed the tendrils escaping from her french twist and covered her hair with a cowboy hat. The rotating costumes of hat, coat, sunglasses or facial hair kept her from being recognized when they drove out of the parking garage.
