by Grace, Carol
“You mean you’d rather be locked in with me?” he asked.
“Between you and Darryl? Of course.”
“What about between me and Brad Pitt?”
She wrinkled her nose as if in deep thought.
“Never mind,” he said. “Anyway, what good would it do to get mad?” he asked. “It could be worse. We’ve got food, thanks to you.”
“It’s thanks to me we’re locked in here. It looks like I’m responsible for this whole mess.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” he said.
“Who should I blame?”
“Blame me. I was careless. I underestimated him.”
“I actually liked him,” she confessed. “I can’t believe I thought he was so nice. I’m such a bad judge of character, I deserve to be locked up,” she said morosely. She looked around at the tiny cell, the sink and the toilet in the corner. “But not for a whole night. Are you sure no one will come by this evening?”
“Tomorrow morning is the earliest. I set it up with Hal this afternoon. Nobody’s going to miss me. What about you?”
She shook her head. “Nobody will miss me.”
There was a long silence. Brady braced his hands on the bars and Suzy stared out through the bars into the hallway. All evening and all night in this cell with Brady. What was she going to do? Where were they going to sleep? She wanted to scream. But she’d already tried that It didn’t do any good.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, looking around nervously. Were the walls closing in on her, or was that her imagination?
“Prisoners of war do exercises to keep fit,” he said.
“You first,” she said and stretched her feet out on the bed.
He went down on the cement floor and started doing push-ups while Suzy watched.
“Hey,” he said. “Get down here. If you can.”
“If I can?” she asked, easing herself off the bed and onto the floor next to him. “Of course I can. Why, do you think I’m flabby and out of shape?”
Without missing a beat, he was able to give her a long, appreciative look. “Not an ounce of flab that I can see...or feel.”
She braced her hands on the floor, warmed by his words, and even more warmed by the look in his eyes. She thought she was strong, she thought she had muscles in her arms from lifting Travis, but after two breathless push-ups, she collapsed, stomach first, on the floor.
“Come on,” he urged. “You can do it.” When she protested, he got to his knees and concentrated on giving orders.
“Back straight, like this.” He ran his hand down her spine. “Knees off the floor.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.” Wasn’t it bad enough she had to be incarcerated, let alone incarcerated with a drill sergeant?
“Of course you can.” He planted his knees on either side of her waist. Then he put his arms around her, but that didn’t work, she just bent in half like she was hinged at the waist. Moving his hands forward he spanned her ribs with his broad palms, his fingers grazing the undersides of her full breasts. She gasped.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
How did it feel? She couldn’t explain. She couldn’t even speak. Not with her breasts tingling and a heat building somewhere deep inside her.
“Up...down,” he instructed. He pulled her up and let her fall forward. Her heart was beating so fast, he had to hear it. But he seemed oblivious, both to her heartbeat and to the reaction his touch caused. “Knees rigid,” he barked. “Toes on the floor. Your whole body should be stiff as a board.”
But her whole body wasn’t stiff as a board. Her body was weak and limp as a spaghetti noodle. He finally eased her to the floor and let her stay there. She couldn’t catch her breath.
Her cheek was pressed against the floor, her breath coming in short pants. “Enough,” she murmured weakly. As if she could ever get enough of Brady.
“Enough?” he said. “Oh, no, that’s just the beginning.” Brady got to his feet in one fluid motion.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Suzy muttered, summoning the energy to lift herself off the floor and back onto the cot. “I suppose you do this every day,” she said with an admiring glance at his well-muscled arms, well-toned abdomen and broad shoulders. The man was in fabulous condition.
“I’d like to,” he said with a wicked smile.
She blushed in spite of herself. “I mean the push-ups,” she said. So he did know what he was doing, and he wasn’t oblivious at all.
“I’ve got a few other things to show you later. You know this weekend may be just what you need to get in shape.”
“I thought you said I didn’t have any flab.”
“Not now. But you have to think of the future. Keep in shape for those long years ahead of you. Instead of sitting on your porch knitting—”
“I’ll be bench pressing one hundred fifty.”
He grinned. “Now you’re getting the idea.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to show up my husband.”
“Better marry someone in good shape then.” He leaned against the wall and studied her face. “Any candidates?”
Suzy sighed. “I told you you’d be the first to know.”
“I’ll rephrase the question,” he said. “Any regrets?”
“Regrets about quitting my job here? How can you ask that when I’m stuck in this jail? This is just the kind of thing that happens when you’re in law enforcement. I should never have set foot in this jail once I left. If I’d stayed at the diner and let you come to pick up the food—”
“Then I’d be here by myself.”
“And you could do push-ups by yourself all evening.”
“I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to,” he said.
“What are we going to talk about?” she asked, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I think we’ve about covered most subjects.”
“Not at all. You’ve never said anything about Travis’s father.”
“You could have gone all night without mentioning him,” she noted, resting her forehead against her knees.
“He was that bad?”
“No. You just reminded me of one of my major mistakes.” She lifted her head and warily looked Brady in the eye. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
“Who was he? Where did you meet him?”
She took a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. Might as well let him know the worst about her. Her poor judgment. “He was a traveling salesman. See what I mean? What woman with an ounce of sense falls for a traveling salesman? Don’t answer that. Anyway, he came into the feed and fuel store where I worked selling heavy farm machinery and told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Can you imagine?”
“Yeah,” Brady said, his voice deep, his eyes darkening. “I can imagine.”
“And since he’d been around the block a few times, being a traveling salesman and all, I believed him.” She pressed her palm against her forehead and closed her eyes. “But that wasn’t all. He took me to Reno and Vegas and Virginia City. He spent a lot of money on me. I was used to Harmony guys whose idea of a big evening is to rent a video, buy a pizza and come over to your house.”
“You were looking for excitement,” Brady suggested, folding his arms across his chest.
“I guess so. All I can say is I made a big mistake. I thought I was in love. That’s my only excuse.”
“What happened?” Brady asked.
Suzy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew.”
“I don’t listen to rumors.”
“You’re the only one in town who doesn’t,” she said wryly. “It’s no secret, anyway. I got pregnant, and he left town. I quit my job and had a baby. Then I answered your ad and went to work for you. That’s what happened. Fortunately I had my mom to baby-sit for me. And friends to rally around me. I’m fine now. But at the time I felt like an absolute fool. Not that he ever said he loved me or that he was serious about me, I just thought...I assume
d...” Her throat clogged with unexpected tears. She was over it—she was. But how could she convince Brady she was fine when she couldn’t even get through a sentence without breaking down?
Brady sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t do that,” he said softly, brushing a tear off her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m so ashamed, ” she said with her head down. “To be taken in like that. To give my heart away. I was old enough to know better.”
“Are you still in love with him?” Brady asked gruffly, dropping his hands from her shoulders.
“It wasn’t love. It was infatuation. I know that now. I’ve learned a lot, at least I think I have. I won’t be taken in again. I know what I want.” She smoothed an invisible wrinkle in the wool blanket that covered the cot. She was afraid to meet Brady’s gaze for fear he’d see that she wanted him.
And this time it was a whole different thing. She admired Brady, not for what he did for her, not for his looks, but for what he was. An honest, upright, kind, lovable man. But she’d learned something else. And that was to keep her feelings to herself. Especially around a man who didn’t want to get married.
She looked up and a gave him a cheerful smile. “Anyway, I got the best of it. I got Travis. Enough about me,” she said. “Your turn.”
“No way,” he said. “You already know enough about me. Too much.”
“If you refuse to talk about yourself, what are we going to do?”
A slow, seductive smile spread across his face that made her stomach twist into a knot of misgiving combined with breathless anticipation. Just when she’d vowed not to let Brady know how she felt about him, he was going to test her resolve in some underhanded way.
Why, oh, why had she ever come to the office with the food? Why had she engaged in conversation with the jewel thief in the first place? And most of all, why hadn’t she stomped on the criminal’s toes or kicked him in the groin? Then she wouldn’t be here right now. She’d be at home relaxing in a hot tub. Far from Brady’s charm.
“Don’t worry,” Brady said soothingly. “You brought the food. I’ll take care of the activities.”
That’s just what she was worried about.
Chapter Ten
Dinner was cold meat loaf, carrot and celery sticks, green salad with the dressing on the side, fresh rolls and butter. Of course there was no knife to cut the meat or butter the rolls, but whatever Celia’s fault in packing the wrong utensil, she made up for it in generous servings for the long-gone prisoner. Suzy and Brady sat side by side on the bed with the box between them as a table.
“Not bad,” Brady said, biting into a buttery roll. “Beats a cold cheese sandwich at home.”
“I thought you never ate at home.”
“I don’t. I eat at the diner, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed.” How could she not notice? How could she not be aware of his presence? In a room full of customers she always knew exactly where he was sitting, who he was with and what he was eating. She knew he liked ketchup with his French fries, Tabasco sauce with his eggs, and cream in his coffee. Maybe he was right. She already knew too much about him.
“Coffee?” she asked, holding up a thermos.
“They thought of everything,” he said.
Suzy filled the cup and added a powdered creamer. When she handed it to him her hand brushed his. This time the jolt sent her heart pounding in her chest. He didn’t move. His eyes bored holes right through her. As if he knew exactly what his touch did to her.
“What about you?” he asked. “Aren’t you having any?”
She burrowed in the box, glad to have a reason to look away, to have something to do. “There’s only one cup. One cup to a prisoner.”
He handed it back to her. “You take it.”
“We’ll share,” she said.
Brady lifted the boxes off the bed and sat down again, his back to the wall. He slanted a glance at Suzy sitting cross-legged next to him, looking so beautiful, with her tousled hair and her wrinkled white sweater and tailored gray slacks. He watched her sip the coffee as if she was in a drawing room instead of a cell.
“How do you do it?” he asked. “How do you manage to look so calm and composed after what you’ve been through? You know any other woman would be ranting and raving about having to spend the night in jail.”
“You’re too modest. Any other woman in town would give their eye teeth to spend the night with you, Brady.”
“Even in a cell?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “That’s news to me.”
“That’s because you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in any long-term arrangement. So the women back off, afraid to get involved with you. That’s what I hear. They’re afraid you’ll break their hearts.”
“Oh, that’s the problem,” he said ruefully. “Is that your problem?”
There was a long pause. She studied the coffee as if she might find the answer inside the cup. “You know what my problem is,” she said at last. “We’ve been over and over it. Here, have some coffee.” She handed him the cup, got up and restlessly walked around the cell, which took all of thirty seconds.
He took the cup and tasted her lips on the rim. Which only made him want to taste her lips directly, by taking her in his arms and molding his body to hers, by pressing his lips against hers, feeling them soften and part so he could explore the depths of her mouth. She was so close. So close and yet so far.
Other women? There were no other women. There would be no other women—at least not on a long-term basis. He reminded himself why not. He didn’t have to remind Suzy. She knew why. Yet she still wanted to hear more about his life. Wanted to hear the whole story. Well, she wasn’t going to. It was too sordid.
“I have to apologize for asking you to go hunting,” he said. “For making you second choice. Just because I was going with a buddy didn’t mean I wouldn’t have rather taken you. I just thought, well hell, I just never thought of asking you, didn’t think you’d want to go.”
She turned to face him and leaned back against the bars. “I don’t know if I would. I’ve never been camping. But it would have been better than being in jail.”
“Definitely better. I generally build a fire and barbecue something. Then lie on my back and watch the stars.”
“It sounds nice,” she said. “But I usually have Travis, so I’m not free to do that kind of thing.”
“Travis would love camping. I’ve got a three-man tent, and a backpack to carry him in.”
“He’s got a little sleeping bag,” Suzy said, getting into the spirit.
“And I’ve got two that zip together,” he added. He pictured himself lying under the stars with Suzy, zipped together in his double sleeping bag. Her hip pressed against his, her warm breath on his cheek, her hair spread across his foam pillow. Then he’d roll over, bury his face between her breasts. He stifled a moan. His heart banged against his ribs.
There was silence in the cell. Was Suzy thinking what he was thinking? Was she picturing what he was picturing? His gaze met hers and held for a long breathless moment. Her eyes, beautiful limpid hazel-green eyes, told him yes. Yes, she wanted what he wanted. She wanted to make love. But her lips told him no. Not in so many words. But in the way she ignored the mention of his sleeping bag for two.
“It’s only seven o’clock,” Suzy noted, briskly changing the subject. “What’ll we do until bedtime? And where will we sleep?” she asked, looking at the narrow cot as if she’d just seen it for the first time.
“You’ll sleep here,” he said, gesturing to the bed. “And I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“You can’t sleep on the floor. It’s hard and cold.”
“Just like camping,” he said. “Minus the stars.”
“And the sleeping bag,” she murmured.
“It’s light, filled with down, lined with flannel, lots of room.” He could see it, he could feel it. He wanted her to see it and feel it, too.
&
nbsp; “Who usually sleeps in it with you?” she asked, eyes narrowed, head tilted to one side.
“Nobody. Since I bought it I’ve never asked anyone. I always thought...I don’t know what I thought.” He shook his head. Had he thought, somewhere deep down, buried in his subconscious, that he’d someday find a woman to share his sleeping bag as well as his life? If he had, he was a fool. It was just a dream. A dream that wouldn’t come true. But he still couldn’t shake the image of Suzy in his sleeping bag or Suzy in his bed.
She cleared her throat. “Maybe we could sing some songs,” she suggested.
“Around the campfire?”
“No, in the cell. To pass the time. Do you know it’s getting a little cold in here?”
“No, why don’t you hum a few bars?”
“Brady, you know what I meant.”
He grinned and raised his right hand. “I swear I didn’t know. I thought it was a song.” He opened his mouth and sang in a tuneless baritone, “It’s getting a little cold in here.”
She giggled. She had the throatiest, sexiest giggle he’d ever heard. Why had he never noticed it before? How could he get her to do it again? Her laughter was contagious. He grinned, then he laughed, too. She laughed harder. Tears filled her eyes for the second time that evening. “That was so stupid,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know why I laughed.”
“To make me feel good?”
“That must be it. Okay, no songs. What does that leave?” she asked.
The answer was so obvious he just stared at her. Until she bit her lip and looked away.
“Brady...”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“You’re not interested.”
“That’s right, I’m not interested in an affair. I’ve been there, done that. And I suppose you have, too,” she suggested with a sidelong glance.
“Maybe. But you and I... it would be different.”
“Uh huh. Sure it would. Because we’re in a cell, is that it?”
“No, because we’re us. Because you’re you and I’m me and we’re good together.”
“For how long? One night? A weekend, a week? No thanks.”
