"Time's up."
She hadn't time to blink before the blanket was snatched off her, but she did manage a squeak as he slid in beside her and pulled her against him.
"Well, well, we're finally in bed together, darlin'. What do you know?"
Very little at the moment, Julianna thought, except that he absolutely overwhelmed her. Everything about Lucas, his broad shoulders, his muscular arms, his large, callused hands, was completely male. She'd overheard two men talking about him last night in the lounge, grumbling that it was Blackhawk's money and the car he drove that attracted women. She'd nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity. If Lucas was dirt poor and rode a bicycle, women would still fight just for a look from him.
He could have any woman he wanted, she thought, but his need for revenge, his need to completely destroy her father, had brought him here—married to her, a woman he didn't love.
That he could never love.
And even knowing that didn't lessen her response to his closeness. With her breasts pushed up against his chest and the proof of his arousal pressing against the juncture of her thighs, the fact that he didn't love her and never would didn't matter. She wanted him to make love to her, wanted him to ease the ache that had risen in her from the first time he'd touched her. No, she realized, it was before that. Long before that.
"You really are beautiful," he murmured. "But you know that, don't you?"
Because speech was impossible at the moment, she said nothing. The anger that had been in his eyes only a moment before now turned to something else, something darkly sensual and extremely primitive. His eyes alone could seduce a woman, melt her insides and turn her brain to mush. And right now, with his dark gaze locked on to her, melting was the only sensation her mushy brain could register.
He ran his hands down her arms, sending a shiver up her spine. When he linked their hands and tugged her arms gently over her head, she felt her breath lodge in her throat. And when he pressed her back against the mattress and straddled her body with his, her heart slammed against her rib cage.
"You should have run when you had the chance," he said and closed his hands firmly over hers.
"No, Lucas," she whispered, felt her lips part as she held his gaze. "I'm not running."
He stilled, stared at her for what felt like a lifetime, though it was a mere split second, then lowered himself to her.
His mouth was hungry and hard, his kiss long and deep and thrilling. Instinctively she arched upward, wanting, needing to feel her breasts against his bare skin. Frustrated by the cotton nightie separating them, and by his restraint of her hands, she moved against him, moaned at the feel of her hardened nipples rubbing against his chest. It was impossible to be still, so she writhed under him, shocked at her shameless behavior, yet excited by it at the same time.
He tore his mouth from hers; his sharp, ragged breaths fell on her face. "Open your eyes, Julianna."
Her eyelids were too heavy, the sensations pouring through her too intense. "Kiss me again, Lucas. Touch me."
She heard him utter an oath, felt his hands tighten on hers. "I want your eyes open," he repeated roughly. "I want you to see who's making love to you, who's touching you."
She did as he asked, and the fierce, wild look in his eyes only aroused her more. She knew this was part of his revenge, his need to avenge his father. This was about sex and power, nothing else, and still it didn't matter. Still she wanted him, wanted him so desperately that she thought she might die if he didn't touch her soon, if he didn't make love to her.
"I know who you are," she whispered and wantonly rocked her hips against the bulge pressing into the juncture of her thighs. "And you know who I am. Now touch me. Please."
Julianna's whispered plea snapped the last thread of control that Lucas had been holding on to. He hadn't come to her for this; it was the last thing he'd wanted at this moment. But her body twisting under his and the desire clouding her eyes made him forget everything but her. His body shook with the need he felt for her, his blood pulsed through him like quick-fire. He released her hands and reached for the hem of her nightshirt, jerked it up and over her head in one rough move, baring her body to him.
He felt as if he'd burst into flames at the sight of her under him, naked except for a thin slice of lace across her hips. She was exquisite, he thought, though the rush of blood to his head made it almost impossible to think at all. He made a low, rough sound in his throat and cupped her smooth, firm breasts in his hands, then stroked the ^pearled tips of her nipples with the pads of his thumbs. She gasped at his touch, bowed her body to fit more snugly into his hands.
He bent to taste her, slid his mouth over the swell of sweet flesh, then covered one rosy nipple and laved the hardened tip with his tongue. She surged upward, dragged her fingers through his hair and moaned softly.
He reached for his zipper, heard the hiss of metal and the sound of his heart pounding furiously, then realized with wild frustration that it wasn't just his heart pounding.
It was someone at the door.
Swearing furiously, he rolled off her and sat on the edge of the bed. He swore again.
Dazed, Julianna covered herself with the sheet. "Lucas?"
"It's the bellman." He sucked in a deep breath, stood and pulled up his zipper.
"The bellman?" She sat, holding the sheet up to her.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed as she looked at him. He clamped his jaw tight, struggled to stop himself from sliding back under the covers with her and leaving the bellman out in the hall. "I called him."
"Are you going somewhere?"
Something glimmered in her eyes. Fear? But it was gone just as quickly, and he thought he'd imagined it. "Get dressed and get packed," he said more roughly than he'd intended. "I'm taking you home."
She said nothing on the drive out of town. Partly because she was still reeling from what had happened between her and Lucas only a short while ago—from what had almost happened—and partly because the thought of going back to her father's house to live left her feeling empty and numb. There was nothing there for her, and except for her mother, there never had been. There were too many memories there: painful, gnawing memories that were best left behind her.
Lucas had been quiet, too, she noted, glancing at him as they swung west onto the highway. He'd seemed unusually tense since the bellman had shown up, though she could certainly understand that. She'd been somewhat tense herself.
He'd nearly made love to her. She closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath, remembering the feel of his hands on her skin, his mouth on her breasts. Never in her life had she ever experienced anything even close to the sensations he'd aroused in her, hadn't known such feelings were possible. Nor had she realized that just a look from him, a touch, and she would react in such an incredibly shameless manner.
And now he was dumping her, taking her back to the Double H. How appropriate it all seemed, she thought, fighting back the tears that threatened. He'd not only destroyed her father, he'd reduced her to begging him to make love to her, then calmly packed her up and cast her off like the proverbial old shoe.
Well, she wouldn't feel sorry for herself, she resolved, and rubbed at the ache in her chest. She'd do whatever she needed to do to move on without him, even live in a house she hated. Even take that job at Tanner's Tavern, she thought, lifting her chin.
She turned suddenly, looked behind her as they passed the turnoff for the Double H. Confused, she glanced at Lucas. "You missed the turnoff."
Frowning, he shifted smoothly into third and looked over at her. "What are you talking about?"
"You said you were taking me home."
His frown deepened. "What did you think, that we were going to live in your father's house?"
She stared at him, too absorbed with his use of the word "we" to answer him. He wasn't going to dump her, she realized.
So where was he taking her? She watched in disbelief and confusion as he turned onto the road that led to he
r grandparents' house. Why were they coming here? The house wasn't livable as it was. The roof and plumbing leaked, the front porch was rotten, the yard overgrown.
They rounded the largest tree on the property, a huge oak that she'd played in as a child, and the road swept around in a circular graveled drive. He stopped the car and shut off the engine. When she turned to look at the house she couldn't catch her breath.
She had to be dreaming. The house was freshly painted the original gray-blue, the trim and shutters white. The porch and steps were new, as was the roof.
And the yard. The breath she'd been holding shuddered out as she looked at all the color. Flowers spilled from clay pots on the porch and steps. White petunias and purple pansies with yellow marigolds sprinkled in. Red rosebushes replaced the dead shrubbery under the porch railing, and mounds of blue lobelia and white alyssum brightened the newly manicured beds. Where grass hadn't grown in ten years deep green sod had been planted.
She hadn't even noticed that Lucas had opened the car door for her. Dumbstruck, she accepted the hand he offered and stepped opt.
"But how—" Her throat was too thick for words. "When did you—"
"That's what I've been doing these past five days." Still holding her hand, he led her up the new brick path, up the porch steps, and opened the front door for her. "Me and two crews of men working double shifts, not to mention Nick. He's not much good with a paintbrush, but when it comes to wiring, the man is a wizard."
"Nick helped, too?" She was still trying to comprehend it all as she stepped inside. The smell of fresh paint and varnish filled the entry. The walls were white now, the hardwood floors smooth and shining. Even the oak banister on the staircase glistened with a new coat of stain.
"There's still a lot of work upstairs, and the kitchen isn't finished," he stated matter-of-factly. "You can pick out new tile and appliances. In the meantime,, there's a small, used refrigerator, a hot plate and coffeemaker."
Transfixed, she simply stood and stared. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, afraid that it would all disappear. Afraid that she'd wake up and discover she was dreaming. She could almost smell the scent of her grandmother's oatmeal cookies baking, hear her grandfather cheering the Sunday football game on the TV, see her mother setting the dining room table with Great-Grandma's china.
When she realized that she was actually looking at that dining room table right now, she laid a hand on her chest and gasped.
"Where did you find this?" She moved into the dining room and ran a hand over one edge of polished mahogany. "My father sold everything years ago."
"It was in the basement, under a pile of cardboard boxes and trash. There was a large crack in the middle and two of the legs were broken." He wiped at a smudge with the tip of his finger. "I know a woodworker in Dallas who's not bad. He did a rush job for me."
Not bad? Julianna thought. It looked brand-new. She couldn't imagine what he'd paid to have it repaired, let alone that it had been a "rush job."
She looked at him, tried to understand what was happening here, if anything was happening here, but he'd bent down to examine the underside of the table, and she couldn't see his eyes. She watched as he gently ran a hand over one of the repaired legs, almost shivered remembering how he'd used those hands earlier when they'd been in bed. "I don't understand why you've done this, Lucas," she said carefully.
He shrugged, dusted off his hands as he stood. "We couldn't have lived in this place in the condition it was in, and there was no way in hell I'd live in your father's house, even if it is mine now."
"But there are other houses around here," she persisted. "Bigger houses, nicer, that you could have moved into without any repairs. Even a couple of estates just west of town."
For an instant his eyes sharpened, then went flat. "If I remember correctly, our agreement was that you get this house after we were married."
Their agreement. It sounded so cold, so businesslike. But that's what it was, she reminded herself. All it ever would be to Lucas. "I'm just surprised. We never discussed where we would live."
"Have you changed *your mind, Julianna, about anything?"
"Of course I haven't changed my mind." She held his dark gaze. "About anything."
He watched her for a moment, then started up the stairs. "The bathroom upstairs is usable, but still needs new tile and fixtures. I've set up an office in town at the suite and I'll be working there during the day. If you like, I can hire a decorator to finish up here."
"That won't be necessary. I'll do the rest myself." Just the thought of it made her giddy. She started after him, but paused at the bottom of the stairs.
"Something wrong?" Lucas asked over his shoulder.
Smiling, she moved up the steps, let her hand glide up the newly varnished banister. "I slid down this banister once when I was six and knocked out a front tooth when I landed face first."
He raised one eyebrow. "You're missing a front tooth?"
She laughed, forgot herself as she followed him into the master bedroom. "It was a baby tooth, silly. Oh, Lucas, it's wonderful."
Morning sunlight streamed through the new wooden windows in the oversize corner bedroom. The floors had been refinished, the oak trim and doors either replaced or refinished.
But it was the bed that held her attention. It was pine, a four-poster antique with an oval headboard. She moved beside the bed, slid her fingers over the intricate rose-and-leaf patterns carved into the wood.
"My father made that for my mother," he said quietly. "I put it in storage when I left here ten years ago. We can put it in one of the other bedrooms if you don't like it."
"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Of course it will stay in here."
He seemed to relax at her acceptance of the bed, and she wondered why he would have thought she might not want it. There was so little they knew about each other, even less they understood.
"Tell me about your mother. What she was like."
Surprised by her question, he brought his head up, then glanced away, straightened one corner of an old scrap quilt. "She was Irish, the niece of a Dallas rancher my father was breaking horses for. When I was little she'd sing to me, silly little Irish songs that made me laugh. Katherine Ryan my father used to call her whenever he was frustrated with her. Which was quite often. She could be very stubborn."
"And you being such an easygoing guy." Julianna sat on the opposite side of the bed. "Obviously you take after your father."
The look he gave her was dry, but there was a smile in his eyes. "You were probably only about six or seven at the time, but she used to come over here once in a while. Your grandmother taught her how to quilt. Other than the bed and a couple of photographs, this is the only thing I have left of her. ' '
"Green eyes," Julianna said, stunned as an image of a woman came to her. "She had incredible green eyes and curly auburn hair. I do remember." Julianna touched one small patch of blue calico. "Your mother was beautiful. She gave me a yellow daisy one day when I was here, and a cherry lollipop."
Lucas smiled, then sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at the headboard. His smile slowly faded. "She was sick for a long time before my father found out. When their medical coverage ran out, he mortgaged the ranch heavily. Six months after she died your father bought the loans and called them. When my father couldn't pay, your father took the land. I was only twelve."
She drew in a slow deep breath. What could she say? I'm sorry? It seemed so empty, so trite. The expression on his face had turned so dark, his jaw so tight. It shamed her to think that she was Mason Had-ley's daughter, that she might have even had a chance to save Thomas Blackhawk and she hadn't.
Sunlight poured into the room, but she suddenly felt cold. As desperately as she wanted to reach out to him right now, she knew that she couldn't. This would always be between them. Nothing could ever change that.
She started to rise, to give him time alone, but he reached over and took her arm. "I remember your mother, too. She had hair lik
e yours and a pretty smile. She smelled like jasmine."
"Jasmine Nights," she said quietly, surprised that he would remember such a thing. "She used to wear that before her accident."
"And after?"
Julianna shook her head, remembered the long, painful hours of therapy, the dark moods and finally the alcohol. "Nothing was the same after. She existed, trapped in a wheelchair."
"And you took care of her," he said quietly.
"I loved her." Julianna ran her finger over a circle of yellow gingham. "She was the best of me."
Lucas's hand gentled on her arm. "Julianna, I—"
A small cellular phone Lucas carried in his top pocket rang. His hand dropped away from her and he stood, answered the phone with one hand while he dragged his hand through his hair with the other.
"Yes?" His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at her sharply. "I'll be right there."
He was already at the bedroom door when she called after him. "Lucas, what is it?"
Without looking back, he answered. "Someone started a fire at the hotel."
Chapter Seven
"It started in here, Lucas." Ray Peterson, Wolf River's fire chief, pointed to the charred remains of what had been a utility closet in the back corner of the Four Winds kitchen. Ray had been in Lucas's twelfth-grade English class, and he still had the same heavy drawl and laid-back stance. "Looks like a pile of rags and newspapers soaked in combustible cleaner fluid was the source."
Grim-faced, Lucas knelt in front of the burned-out closet. The fire had been put out before he'd even got back to the hotel, but the smell of smoke still hung heavy in the air. Fortunately the blaze had been caught early enough and the fire department had responded quickly, so there'd been very little damage, and no one had been hurt. It was also fortunate that the hotel was at a lower occupancy and most of those guests had been out of the hotel at the time of the
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