by Cait London
“Oh, you can….” Leona moved her breasts against him, side to side, her hips lifting and falling, her lips against his throat. “You feel so good….”
Her body started clenching, and he had to have her—
In the aftermath of the sudden storm, Leona held Owen, soothing him as their heartbeats slowed—together. “You needed that, didn’t you? What is it, some primitive, possessive-man thing? You were making a point, weren’t you? You’re smirking, by the way. I can feel it.”
“True.” Owen smiled against her throat. Leona’s trust spelled pure commitment. He’d really felt it, earthquake-jarring, mind-blasting, bone-melting felt it. This fabulous woman was his; she trusted him with her body, and that had to mean a whole lot of commitment on her part.
He’d claimed all rights. Leona was his.
Thirteen
LEONA SMILED CONTENTEDLY AS SHE SAT IN HER LIVING room, a notebook on her lap. Owen sat at her desk, working on his new laptop, the muscles of his back prominent beneath all that smooth bronzed skin. As she watched the evening sunlight shimmer on his bare shoulders, she wanted even more of him.
Their afternoon had served as a badly needed respite from the danger stalking her. The sensual blend of an almost primitive male-female clash with that of more tender and gentle moments had seemed almost magical. As Leona remembered him moving over her, a wave of desire caused her belly to clench with the need to go to him. She wanted to slide her fingernails down his back, or kiss his ear and watch those gunmetal gray eyes heat. Owen Shaw was hers. She’d taken him…. He’d changed her life in their short time together.
Leona hadn’t thought of herself as primitive, but the need to mark Owen as her own had surprised her; the shock waves still lingered, blending with softening layers of feminine completion. Her family must have sensed her satisfaction, because no one had called.
Frowning, she tried to focus on work, too, studying the notes she’d been taking on the women she’d just interviewed over the telephone. The prospects ranged from “big ideas to help improve the customer base” to “Oh, I can’t work those hours” to a hopeful “I could learn to sew.”
One woman, Charlotte Franklin, seemed too desperate to “do anything needed—clean or hand out sales pamphlets on the street, or anything.” Leona had felt a trickle of unease at Charlotte’s fearful tone, and she intended to speak with the woman in person. Charlotte had not heard the radio ad Leona had placed, and she was reluctant to explain how she’d known about the vacancies.
Her gaze roamed to Owen again. After surprisingly easy, companionable afternoon hours, Owen’s shoulders and arms bunched with tension as he worked; the sensation came at Leona in waves. Earlier he had made short work of finishing Vernon’s closet job. An experienced carpenter, he was familiar with Vernon’s tools. Referring to the plans she’d drawn up several times, he’d put the individual wooden storage spaces together quickly. Leona’s offer of help had been quickly dismissed, which irritated slightly. His mild, “Get out of the way, honey. Why don’t you go bake that pie?” had followed a few of her minor suggestions.
Leona had thought better of arguing; she’d made the pie and settled in to her own work. Vernon’s whereabouts were still unknown, but they’d decided that they needed to go about their business and hopefully draw out Leona’s stalker by living as if they weren’t on guard. Of course, the only reason Owen agreed to the plan was because he was by her side. A woman with a strong-hunter-type man and his wolf-type dog in tow couldn’t be much safer. Leona studied her emotions, the ease within her mind, body and spirit was a balm she’d needed badly, perhaps for all her lifetime.
But Owen hadn’t relaxed entirely between his efforts to finish her shelving and his work at her desk. Leona had that well-satisfied sense that she had her man in her cave and he was definitely making himself at home.
Owen had seemed to be working out their plan as he worked methodically to create the closet’s separate sections. When the shelving had been completed, he’d put all of Vernon’s tools in his pickup bed. “He might come to get them. If he does, Max will hear him, and I’ll be waiting.”
After his shower and their dinner of grilled chicken, pasta, and salad, Owen had sat at her desk. He’d opened his laptop and started pricing serious updates for the farmhouse while Leona had curled up in her easy chair to return the interview calls. She’d been mildly surprised by herself; for hours now, she’d been sharing her “space” with Owen, after years of living alone.
Leona sensed this was the calm before the storm in which someone would die.
Closing his laptop, Owen turned to her. Sprawled back against her desk chair, he finished the coconut pie she’d sliced for him earlier and placed the dish aside. “Good. Thank you.”
He took in her ME-WOMAN T-shirt, worn jeans, and bare feet. The giant claw-clip at the top of her head was doing nothing to control her hair. Uneasy with what she sensed he might say, Leona blew a wisp away from her face. She was in her own home; she’d been thoroughly “sexorcised,” as Tempest was fond of saying, and she probably wasn’t looking her best. “Are we going to have a chat?” she asked crisply.
“Don’t give me attitude. It may work with others, but not with me. I suspect you ran a few guys off with that act. But I’m still here, aren’t I?”
She closed her notebook and placed it aside, picking up her cup of tulsi tea. She sipped the lukewarm brew to give herself time to think. There was nothing like a head-on argument brewing in her living room to send up big warning signs. “You’ve been thinking about whatever you’re going to say since—”
“Since you agreed to being committed—to our relationship.”
Owen’s use of “committed” and “relationship” obviously referred to her acceptance of the missionary position. Leona decided not to disagree; she trusted him with her body as well as everything else. It hadn’t been long since they’d met, but she was certain they had more than a “relationship.”
He seemed to be laying the groundwork for a serious discussion. If he intended to “lay down the law” again, then she would make her point that a relationship is an equal partnership. She correctly anticipated Owen’s statement: “I don’t want you to go out to the farm again.”
When her eyebrows lifted in warning, Owen breathed deep and added, “I know you want to come out with me tonight and check on the farm. I’d prefer that you didn’t go to the farm again. It’s too dangerous. I’d prefer that you stayed here with Max. He needs the rest.”
“Oh, he does, does he?”
Max lifted his head, his ears alert. He did that huffing-questioning noise, then tilted his head as if sensing trouble between the humans. He sensed right. Leona fought back that shimmer of anger closing in on her. “Dangerous? For me? Or for this creep who has been stalking my family? You’re not expecting me to back away from this, are you, honey?”
Owen leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. He clasped his hands in a gesture that said he was settling in to make his point. “You didn’t need to flash those bracelets to let this guy know exactly who you are and what your bloodline is. He knows already. He’ll get teed off and reckless and—”
“Show himself, naturally. That’s what we want, isn’t it?”
“If you’re not around, then he’ll probably come after—”
“You,” she finished. “You really can’t expect me to back down from this guy, not now. He’s done too much.”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do. Stop baiting him. If he can adapt himself to look like anyone, he could be anywhere. That’s why I want Max to stay with you anytime I’m not with you. And there’s one more thing: If you’re not leaving Lexington—and it doesn’t sound like you are—then I think we should live together…for your protection.”
Leona understood that more was going on beneath the layers of Owen’s obvious wariness. “So that would mean that you would live here, right?”
“I’d like that…yes. I could work at the farm during the d
ay. I’m putting it up for sale as soon as possible. Neither Janice or you should be anywhere near that triangle of water. It’s too dangerous for you. When I’m gone, Max will stay with you at the shop or here. That’s the only way I’m leaving you alone. Every night and sometimes during the day, I’ll be with you. Well, until your family comes. It’s your call how to handle that situation.”
“My family? Here?”
Owen took a deep breath, obviously bracing himself to continue. “The way I understand this psychic family connection is that when you’re all together, you’re safe. With racing right here, all sorts of horse shows going on, and different events in the area, it should be an interesting draw for your family. From what you said, Marcus and Neil have never been here, and it might make a nice family vacation.”
Leona sank back in her chair and folded her arms. “You evidently haven’t met Marcus. He likes to take over things—including my life. It’s been a job to hold him off.”
“What about Neil?”
“He just plain thinks I need help and protection.”
Owen’s smile seemed wolfish. “Yes, well, now you have me for that job, don’t you? And Marcus has his father on guard, helping keep Janice safe, which I appreciate. I’d say we have all bases covered. And I get the idea you like sparring with your brothers-in-law.”
“So, this is man’s work?” Leona asked very carefully. “Protecting the helpless females?”
“And they’re worth every minute.” Owen stood and extended his hand down to her. “Come on, Red. Before you get too fired up, let’s walk the dog and you can cool down.”
Leona detested the nickname, but let it slide. At the moment, she had bigger issues. Owen had no idea what could happen when her entire family gathered. She did. “You haven’t really invited them, have you?”
“No, not yet, but I just wanted to see what you’d say. I get the feeling that I’m not the problem.”
“Did you think you were?”
When Owen shrugged and went into his closed, defensive mode, Leona stared at him. Why would he worry that her family would object to him? Were his scars with the other woman that deep?
“No, of course you’re not ‘the problem.’ It’s more like—well, not many people can withstand a whole roomful of us. We’re all restless now, and it’s worse. Claire and Tempest are both pregnant. Every time I talk to them, I get the feeling I’m leaping between cars on a mood train. They definitely can’t be in the same room, not without some leveler. That can’t be Mom. She’s got a little problem of her own—it’s really kind of cute. Marcus and Neil are not feeling exactly tiptop. And that would leave me to do the leveling—Why on earth would you think that I would not want you to meet them?”
A shadow crossed Owen’s hard face, and his eyes flickered away from her; he was shielding something from her. “I have my reasons.”
So much for the trusting relationship…. Leona stood. Ignoring Owen’s extended hand, she placed her hands on her hips. “Okay. Explain. And never call me ‘Red’ again.”
“Some other time. Let’s take that walk. Come on, Max.” Leona searched his tight, closed expression. She decided that whatever Owen had to say, he needed to choose his own time.
With Max on guard at Leona’s, Owen decided to check on the horses at the farm. At nine o’clock on a Monday evening, Lexington was subdued, the city’s traffic light.
As a hunter, every instinct in Owen told him that this was the chilling, calm moment before danger struck. They’d both needed the quieter day they’d had; Leona’s panic in her office had terrified him. She appeared more in control and rested, though they’d definitely been very busy. If he hadn’t left, they would be back in bed, and Leona wouldn’t get the additional rest she needed.
Owen smiled briefly. That missionary-position event didn’t need to happen again, so far as he was concerned. He’d needed that one time to confirm what he already sensed: Leona trusted him. That she had definitely accepted their relationship on all levels.
As he paused at a stop light, he realized he probably shouldn’t have pushed for that. Maybe he was insecure. Leona shouldn’t pay for his scars.
When the light turned green, and he accelerated, Owen’s body tightened as he thought about her lying beneath him, moving with him and accepting him.
He had only been gone a few minutes, but already Owen anticipated his return to Leona. Her good-bye kiss had been followed by, “I’d like to try that again. Hurry back.”
She’d patted his butt as he walked out the door. Owen had stopped in midstride and turned to her. “You’re sort of cute, when you look shocked, Mr. Shaw.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever been called cute.”
“Don’t get all snarly, honey. I really like your butt. It’s firm and—”
Owen had forced himself to turn and walk away. He hadn’t expected Leona’s playful mood, but he intended to explore it.
Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, he fought returning to her now. First he wanted to have a very private chat with Vernon…without Leona.
He parked two blocks from Vernon’s place. To neighbors, Owen would look like any man taking a walk in the evening. If that tiny strip of tape on the screen door had been torn away, it would signal activity.
At Vernon’s house now, Owen noted that the mailbox by the front door was still stuffed with mail. He dipped into the shadows and circled to the back. A quick check revealed that the tape had been torn away at one end; someone had been in the house. When he entered the house, he found that the pills and containers were gone.
Replacing the tape, he returned to his pickup. The handyman was apparently still around but not returning calls.
As Owen drove to the farm, he answered his sister’s call. “Yes, I’m going out to check on the horses now. Don’t worry about them.”
He decided that he wouldn’t tell Janice about Robyn, or the tapes, just now. Owen listened carefully to Janice’s tone, rather than to the words. Her speech pattern had taken on a contemporary phrasing. She seemed lighter, freer…and he intended for her to stay that way. “I’m learning so much about myself, Owen. I limit myself to only so many hours on the computer, then I try to balance my thoughts and concentration with meditation. I’m learning different forms of finding an inner peace, and I think I’m stronger that way, like all the storms are sweeping away and leaving me clean…. Greer is wonderful. I understand so much about myself that I didn’t before. Oh, Owen, you were right. I wasn’t bad and undeserving. I was struggling with life, like anyone else.”
Janice was expressing everything Owen had prayed would happen for her. “You’re going to be fine.”
Her tone shifted to excitement. “I may try a few graphic jobs, freelance stuff, but I’m not overloading like before. Greer says balance is important…. Owen, our parents were too…”
“Harsh? Old-fashioned? Afraid for us?” Owen supplied gently. He was learning more about the shell he’d built around himself at an early age—and his father’s harsh advice about keeping women in their place was wrong. Owen realized that in her childhood, Janice had probably been subjected to their father’s attitude that a female was of lesser worth. Janice had badly needed the Aislings’ encouragement and warmth, which was lacking in the Shaw family. He thought of how his mother had called Janice, “a little bird,” proof that she had known how delicate and sensitive she was, even at an early age. “They came from the old ways, Janice. They did the best they could. They loved us.”
“I remember. Dad was strict with you, always wanting more from you, and it was never enough for him.”
“He wanted the best for me, not for himself.”
“He was afraid of your light eyes, of what it could mean, how different you could be. And you were, Owen. But he didn’t understand.”
“No, he didn’t. Few people understand.” Since boyhood, Owen had locked away his visions, so foreign to his family’s culture. Did they still hover, waiting for him to release them?
“I…love you,” Janice stated hesitantly, surprising him. The Shaw family had never expressed endearments, but Janice’s felt good and true. They were words Owen needed to learn, to say, too; he knew he needed to bring the words inside him out into the ears of others. He should have given them to Janice long ago.
Janice spoke quietly, as if she sensed he needed comfort. “You gave me everything, Owen. You did everything just right.”
“I see the horses now,” Owen stated abruptly. “They’re standing at the fence.”
Janice laughed delightedly. “That’s your usual automatic defense. You’re uncomfortable with expressing your emotions. But you feel them. I know you do. You need to tell Leona how you feel.”
“And you need to mind your own business, little sister.” He’d told Leona with his body, but the words were difficult. When they had been by Robyn’s car, and Leona had feared for him, Owen had caught her message; it was crystal-clear even though she didn’t actually speak. Leona had wanted to tell him she loved him…that he was the other part of her soul and her heartbeat. Had Leona understood how he felt? Without words?
After the call ended and Owen had checked the horses, he stood to overlook the field, leading down to the pond. At twilight, the rustic scene was peaceful, a contrast with the danger lurking nearby.
Janice had been right: Their father had always been wary of Owen’s potential though he’d loved his son.
“I wonder,” Owen murmured as he started walking to that triangle of natural water. Before he returned to Leona’s, Owen had only a short time to experiment.
Leona had only a short time to check on Alex. As soon as Owen left, she’d called him, but he hadn’t returned her message.
Earlier, that evening walk with Max was not ordinary. Owen and Max had moved together, and they had seemed to be patrolling Leona’s neighborhood. Owen had stood very still as if letting his senses stretch out to feel the evening. “No rain tonight. That’s good.”
