by EC Sheedy
“What’s going on?” The sleepy voice came from behind him.
“Check the pups.” He switched on the porch light.
“What?” Her hair was a beautiful mess, and she was tying the sash of a silky blue robe around her slender waist. Without hesitation, she reached for a switch, turned on the indirect lighting under the cupboards. She looked confused, and sleepy. And sexy as hell…
“Someone was in here,” he said. “I’m going out to take a look around. Do you have a flashlight?”
She glanced at the open door, the blackness beyond, and her confusion gave way to wide-eyed shock, but she did go to a drawer and get him a light. “You probably shouldn’t go out there. What if—”
“Already considered,” he interrupted. Now wasn’t the time to explain that security checks were standard operating procedures for him—although not necessarily performed after the best sex of his life. God, she looked good, all rumpled and concerned—for him. It had been a long time… “Check the pups,” he said again. “And try to calm Samba down. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Don’t be a hero, okay?” She didn’t look convinced, but she went into the laundry room.
He heard her cry before he’d cleared the last step.
“Julius! There’s only four of them. There should be six.”
“Stay with Samba.” He arced the flashlight, quickly checked the perimeter of the house, but within five minutes knew he was wasting his time, and headed back up the steps. Whoever had been in the house was long gone. But who the hell would B & E to steal newborn pups? Pups far too young to leave their mother. For those pups to survive more than twenty-four hours would take a miracle.
“I found one.” Deanne called out. “Outside the box.”
Julius stepped into the kitchen…damn near stepped on a tiny black shifting shadow. “Here’s the other one.” He picked up the tiny lump of pup, eyes still sealed shut, head shaky but determinedly looking for its mother’s teat, and carried it to the whelping bed, softly stroking its head with his index finger.
When the pups were all back with their mother, Julius stood beside a quiet Deanne. “What happened, do you think?” she asked.
“I think someone came in that door.” He gestured with his chin to the now-closed back door. “And I think Samba did what all good mothers do when their babies are threatened. Protected them. It was her barking and growling that woke me up.” Julius dropped to his haunches beside the dog. Samba was hard at work, cleaning her pups with long slurps of her tongue, going from one to the other as if doing a count.
“But someone must have gotten them out of their box—why did he leave them?”
“I don’t think he got near the pups. I think the pups were feeding—pretty much all they do at this stage—and when Samba went after whoever it was, they were latched on to her nipples and didn’t let go soon enough. It happens.” He got to his feet. “You’ve not only got a good mother here, you’ve got a protector.” And it looks as if you need one.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
He tilted his head.
“You’re thinking Kurt had something to do with this.”
“And you don’t?”
She chewed on the question for a time, finally shook her head. “No. I think Kurt…hurts, if you’ll excuse the bad rhyme, but inside himself and only himself. He’s not sneaky or dishonest. He’s not the kind of kid who’d break into a house.”
“Then what do you think—about what happened here?” He’d learned long ago to insert a question in lieu of an opinion, if it would forestall a disagreement. And looking at the beautiful, tousled woman in front of him, barely covered in filmy silk, a disagreement was the last thing he wanted.
“I don’t know.” She tightened the sash on her robe. “Maybe it was somebody checking doors, to see if they were locked. Looking for a quick score.”
Out here? Far enough out of Seattle to merit the word boonies? He didn’t think so.
She went on, “And I don’t think I locked the door, so it might have been a gust of wind coming off the lake that nudged it open. It’s happened before.”
“Anything’s possible,” he said, keeping his tone mild and his opinions to himself. He wanted her to be cautious, not frightened. A fine line. “Then from here on, maybe it’d be a good idea to keep your doors locked—for Samba’s sake.” And your own.
“I usually do, but tonight I was a little, um, distracted.” Her smile was surprisingly shy, considering how they’d spent the past few hours. He was fast becoming addicted to her smile.
He went to her, untied the sash on her robe and slipped his hands under it to encircle her waist. “I hope that was my fault.”
“Definitely.” She put her hands on his bare chest.
He kissed her, keeping it light—not easy. “Good, because I’m thinking another distraction is exactly what we need right now. You up for that?” He ran his hands down and over her bare bottom, pulled her closer.
Jesus, she felt good. Too good. He kneaded her firm buttocks, lifted her against him. Dangerously good.
“Ready—” she kissed one of his nipples, “—willing—” she licked it, “—and able.” She pressed herself to him where he needed her the most and kissed his throat, under his ear. Heat shot to his groin with the blast of a flame thrower. Arousal kicked in hard and fast.
Tightening his grip on her waist, he lifted her, set her beautiful butt on the counter and positioned himself between her legs. Slipping the robe off her shoulders, he followed its slide over her upper arms with his hands, until it fell away from her completely. Until she was open to him. Her skin, backlit by the low lighting coming from under the cupboards, was all the silk he needed. All that he wanted.
Pushing her legs apart, he moved his gaze from her face to her sex, moving his thumbs on her inner thighs to keep her spread wide, he looked his fill. Oddly suspended in the moment. Fascinated. Rapt in her soft curls, the satiny, juiced lips they covered, the even deeper secret beyond them, he continued to look and not touch.
“Julius?”
“Hmm.” Without looking away from her, he ran his hands up her inner thighs. God, the heat of her. He felt it to his bones. Deeper. His breathing turned shallow.
“That’s not exactly the Mona Lisa you’re looking at.”
“No. But I think it’s what da Vinci had in mind when he painted her. Soft—” he ran a finger through her fold, “—sultry.” He inhaled the scent of her. “And endlessly mysterious.”
Her eyes, which had drifted closed the instant he touched her, opened to meet his. “There’s no mystery, Julius. It’s just me—wanting you.” She opened her legs wider, never taking her serious gaze from his. Resting back against the counter, she added, “And as much as I like you looking at me like that, you should know there’s a risk I might, uh, embarrass myself.”
“I like looking at you,” he said, surprised he got the words out of his dry mouth. What he’d said was true, but what he wanted—craved—went far beyond looking. “And I’d love for you to embarrass yourself, while I do, but—” he leaned to kiss her glistening curls, taste her, “—there’s a better way.” He entered her with his fingers, pressed her clit, and she bucked. Juiced. Raw need exploded in his focused brain, blinded him, and he pulled her roughly to the edge of the counter.
She pulled down his zipper, set his erection free. Steel hard and hurting. His breathing rough, he muttered, “Definitely a better way.”
He went in strong and deep, slipping himself between tight muscles, dewed flesh. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she moaned. “That is so good…” She tightened around him, dug her fingernails into his lower back. “Harder. I want it hard—and fast.”
He obliged.
CHAPTER 13
At the big house, Kurt closed the kitchen door behind him, put his back to it and slid his ass to the floor. He couldn’t breathe, and his heart whacked his blood against his ribs so hard he was afraid they’d crack.
> Telling himself to chill out, he shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the door. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said to the empty room.
The kitchen was dark and shadowed, and the smell of it nearly peeled the skin from inside his nose. Breathing through his mouth was better.
Stupid fucking dog.
But that was just pissed-off thinking, and he knew it, because something rattling in his freaked-out brain was impressed in a weird kind of way. Samba had been ready to chew him to the bone if he touched her pups. The second he’d inched the door open, she’d started growling and barking, wouldn’t even look at the steak he’d brought her. He lifted an empty hand, cursed. A steak he obviously dropped while stumbling up the hill to the house.
No way was he getting anywhere near those pups tonight, or any other night as long as Samba was around. And that Zern guy? Sure as hell didn’t take him long to make his moves on Deanne. No telling how long he’d be hanging around. That thought shot pins through his chest. He’d almost pissed himself when he’d heard Big Man coming out of her bedroom. He knew he was there—who could miss that damn Mercedes of his shining its silver on her driveway.
But Wheeler had said get the pups, so he had to try.
And I won’t think about what he wants them for. I fuckin’ won’t. It’s not like I have a choice…It’s them or me. They’re just dogs anyway. They don’t matter. I won’t let them matter.
What he needed to remember was that Wheeler was insane. Crazy. Wheeler had cut Peter Grant, then beat him so bad he had to go to the ER—and now Wheeler had a gun…Kurt rubbed his heart and dumped all thought of the pups over the back of his brain.
Four more days and it was Friday. What the hell was he going to do if Zern kept hanging around?
He got up from the floor, went to the sink and ran some cold water. After splashing some on his face, he filled a dirty glass and drank it dry. He filled it again and went to sit at the table.
Sipping the water, he sat in the cold darkness in a sweat. He wondered what he was going to tell Dev when he came for the pups. At least he had some time to figure something out, because Dev’s idea of morning didn’t include any time before noon.
Gripping his glass with both hands, he swallowed the ball of fear in his throat.
He wanted to cry.
He wanted to kick something.
He wanted to scream.
But more than anything he wanted his mom. Hell, even his fuckin’ dad would be better than nothing.
Deanne rolled over and with her eyes still closed, slid a hand toward Julius. It’s not that she had a plan or anything—yeah, right—she just wanted to touch him. She inched her hand across the sheet toward where she thought his thigh would be. But instead of morning-warmed skin, she found empty space. She patted the sheet blindly, opened her eyes and looked around the room. The empty room.
Julius was gone. Without a trace. No shirt on the floor, no shoes…no shadow.
She looked at the clock and, after blinking against the early light coming through the window beyond it, saw the time. Quarter to eight.
She shouldn’t have been disappointed Julius had left without a goodbye, but she was. She hadn’t expected him to stay—more liked hoped. Even though he’d told her how it was with him, I’m a loner…I don’t stay.
Clear enough, and fair enough. Especially since she’d told him she was okay with that, which she was…before they’d made love. Before the earth shifted under her feet. And how brainless was that? Obviously her quartet of orgasms had shorted out some critical neurons. Her problem. Not Julius’s. The man went home. It was Monday, no doubt he had things to do. So her heart ached a bit—okay more than a bit—she’d handle it.
Trying not to think of anything other than morning breath, and ridding herself of same, she headed for the bathroom. She noticed a damp towel folded over the tub, picked it up and tried to find his scent. Nothing. Washed away. Gone like the man himself, while she, sleeping like the living dead, hadn’t even heard him shower. Having decided the world would be a better place if multiple orgasms could be bottled and prescribed, she brushed her teeth and took a quick shower.
When she’d dried off, she dropped both of their towels in the hamper and headed back to her bedroom. Not once did thoughts of Julius leave her mind. Nor did the anticipation of seeing him again at Clancy’s show.
Tomorrow night. Her heart raced at the thought.
She sat on the edge of the bed, sighed, and said, “Until then…suck it up, Deanne. Just suck it up.”
“Not sure what that it is exactly, but I’m prepared to discuss possibilities.”
Deanne shot to her feet, spun to face him, her heart a rabbit in her chest. “You’re still here.” Another brilliant word burst.
“Shouldn’t I be?” He lowered his gaze to her knees, his only starting point with the bed between them, and started a slow upward scan.
“No. I mean yes, but no…that ‘I’m a loner’ thing you said…I thought—” It occurred to her she had no idea what she thought, and about the time his eyes again met hers, she remembered she was naked as a newborn. She grabbed the cover from the bed and shrouded herself in pink roses. Her body was okay from dusk to dawn, but after that it got iffy. Especially when you had Mr. Magnificent leaning in your bedroom doorway looking like a men’s cologne ad, nothing askew except a shirt, mostly unbuttoned, and a sexy hint of shadow on his jaw. In the early light, his pale green eyes gleamed with the patina of platinum.
He took her breath away. Freeze-dried her brain while warming everything else. Magic. He was magic.
And he’d stayed.
She stood, frozen as a mannequin, a wild mishmash of thoughts and feelings firing through her. She was hot, cold, crazed, awed, sad, seriously befuddled, blissed out—and utterly terrified, her senses overwhelmed, like a butterfly released from a prison jar to summer air, so bewildered by possibilities, it could only cling to the edge of its prison and flutter its wings.
Without a word, he came around the bottom of the bed and gripped her shoulders. He had to lower his head for their gazes to square off. She noticed his hair was still damp. “You thought I’d leave without saying goodbye.”
Oh, God, there was that word. Goodbye. Her stomach collapsed under the weight of it, and all she could do was nod, afraid if she opened her mouth she would, as usual, say too much, and get all the words wrong.
He shifted his hands from her shoulders and tugged at the edges of the rose-spattered quilt she’d mummified herself in, until she loosened her grip. He slid the cover over her shoulders, pulled it down to her elbows. She was left with a weak one-handed grip holding the edges of the cover low over her breasts.
He lowered his gaze to that frail hold, let his eyes tell her what he wanted.
She dropped the quilt.
He smiled, and for the first time since they’d met, it seemed to come easily. “Why would I leave without seeing you in the daylight. Having you in the daylight.” He pulled her close, his chest, with his soft coating of hair, warmed her breasts, his words warmed everything else.
“Julius, I—” Again with the talk, woman. Stop. Cease. Desist. Right now wasn’t the time for yapping about feelings, especially when you couldn’t describe them without a poet on your shoulder.
“You going to finish what you were going to say?” He cupped her breasts, pressed her nipples lightly with his thumbs. “So I can get on with things.”
She shook her head, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed it—savored the shiver he made no attempt to hide. “All I want to say is I’m glad you’re still here.” She kissed him again. “Now…you can get on with things.”
CHAPTER 14
After breakfast, Julius carried their two coffees out to the back porch. They sat in two Adirondacks that faced the sun-glazed lake at the back of the property, and shared a wooden footstool, their bare feet touching.
Julius set his coffee mug on the arm of the chair, put his head back and eyed the view from under
half-closed eyelids.
It was serenely beautiful—the morning air was warm and sweet, and the woman beside him sweeter yet. And definitely warm. Jesus, what a night. And morning. All of it perfect. For the first time in years his world felt right, balanced—in a way he couldn’t define. He’d had great sex before, so that wasn’t it. Although great didn’t cover making love with Deanne. But it had been years since he’d spent serious morning time with a woman. Years since he’d wanted to.
He’d got up at six, his plan to take a look around, then leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk out the door. Instead, he’d ambled into her backyard, intending to think things through, and ended up doing a thorough reconnaissance of the property, a scouting expedition that had turned up an expensive cut of beef halfway up the hill to the kid’s place. That discovery made staying a no-brainer. He had to talk Deanne into being more watchful around that boy. She wasn’t going to like it.
“You’re very quiet.” She stroked his arm to get his attention.
“This is good.” He lifted a hand to encompass the view. “And what I have to say will ruin that.”
She gave him a puzzled look.
Julius got up from the chair and went to the edge of the porch where he’d stashed the steak. He lifted it. “I went for a walk this morning.” He waved the steak. “It wasn’t a gust of wind that opened your door. It was whoever was waving this in front of Samba. They came prepared—and they knew you had a dog.”
“Damn.” She glanced past him and her gaze caught on something and held.
When he started to speak, she raised a hand. “You’re going to say it was Kurt.”
“I’m going to talk to him.”
“No, I am.”
“I thought I’d get an argument.”
“And you might have. That steak could have been anyone’s—”
