Joe clearly wanted to get on with that dosing because he kissed her as if he might never be able to kiss another woman. A thought that might have wormed its way into her head if he hadn’t put her back against the wall and started taking off her top. He was definitely a multitasker when it came to clothing removal because he just kept kissing her. Until she had no breath. No thoughts. Only a boatload of need.
Still kissing her in that man-on-fire kind of way, he pushed up her skirt to her waist, and in the same motion he shoved down her panties. And then, he touched. Mercy, did he. Joe used those clever fingers to shoot her straight up the peak. Just as Millie was about to fly right off that crest, he moved his hand and pushed his body against the part of her that was now aching and begging.
Actually, Millie was ready to beg, too, but Joe French-kissed her and put an end to anything she might say.
Mentally begging and cursing him, she went after his belt and zipper. Obviously, this was going to be a fully naked kind of thing, but she had to free him from his boxers. Easier said than done because he was huge and hard.
And he wasn’t helping.
It took her a moment to realize why that was. He was having his own battle with freeing a condom from his wallet. When he finally got it out, he tossed the wallet on the floor, and nearly pushed her off that crest again while he worked his hands between them to put on the condom. His fingers bumped and nudged until Millie wasn’t sure she could take any more.
But Joe gave her more. Yep, he hoisted her up, hooking her legs around his waist, and he pushed all that huge hardness inside her. It was perfect. It was intense. It made her come. And come. And come.
With her body clamping around his erection, Millie clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to make sure she didn’t blurt out “I love you” again. She didn’t want to risk blurting out anything. Instead, she made all those incoherent sounds of someone who’d just gotten the best lay ever.
But apparently, Joe wasn’t finished with her.
Somehow, he managed to slide his hand between them and touch her again. All without dropping her. Millie started to tell him that she wasn’t a two-orgasm kind of woman, but he just kept at it. The kissing, the touching, the long hard strokes in and out of her, and she felt the tension start to build again. Not the bad kind of tension, either. This was the snowballing need to have him all over again.
Since Joe was already in place, already doing exactly what he needed to do, the “all over again” happened. Millie soared to the peak and shot straight up past it. Until the tension snapped and made her feel like the most pleasured woman in the history of pleasured women.
She was smiling, all slack and slow, when Joe made his own climb and peak. He pushed into her, released, and she felt his body shudder. He stayed pressed against her, his mouth on her cheek, his hands cupping her butt while he fought to catch his breath.
Just in case all the slack and slow made her mindless, Millie caught her bottom lip in her teeth again. Because silence was definitely the way to go here. And that’s why it stunned her when Joe didn’t take the silent route.
“Millie, I love you,” he whispered.
* * *
JOE SAT AT his desk and stared out the window. Something he’d been doing a lot of today. Not only out the window. Just staring, period. And thinking.
He’d been doing plenty of that, too.
The night before he’d had sex with Millie, again, and while that was more than enough to add to the existing complications of messing around with her heart, he’d said words he’d had no intentions whatsoever of saying.
I love you.
Where the hell that’d come from, he didn’t know. Which was why he was doing a lot of staring and thinking. It had shocked him to the bone. Had done a pretty good job shocking Millie, too. He’d seen her eyes go wide, and her mouth had dropped open. However, she’d recovered faster than he had and had given him an out.
It was post-orgasmic insanity, she’d claimed.
Something she had experienced when she’d blurted out the same to him. Millie had added that she knew it wasn’t true. And she’d been right. It wasn’t true, but that hadn’t stopped Joe from dwelling on it all damn night and now into a good chunk of the day.
Forcing his mind back on anything but Millie, he signed the contract for the sale of some bulls to a cattle broker over in Spring Hill. Not the white calves. They were too young to be weaned, but when they were, he’d find another buyer, one not looking for solid breed stock as this broker was.
This was his business, Joe reminded himself, to raise and sell prime livestock. It was how he made a living, a decent one at that, but he always felt a little pang of loss when it came time to sell the heifers and bulls that he’d seen born. Hell, some that he’d given names. But with the new calves being born every week, the cycle would start all over again.
And yeah, he’d still give some of them names.
He put the contract in the large envelope and called out to Dara that he was heading to the post office. She was on the phone with Bella and probably still would be when he got back from his errand. Sometime soon, he’d need to sit down with her and have a chat, to find out just how attached she’d gotten to Millie. Then, he’d need to explain to her, well, he didn’t know what to explain yet, but he couldn’t continue to jack Millie’s heart and body around like this.
Joe went to the post office and ignored the behind-the-hand whispers and judgmental looks. Or maybe he was projecting about the judgmental part, but he would bet the gossip was about Millie and him.
He walked out of the post office, intending to head straight back home, but he ended up driving past Once Upon a Time. He didn’t see Millie, but she was probably in there since the shop wasn’t due to close for another two hours. Joe had to admire that she was taking steps to move on with her life. The upstairs renovations, giving away her house, clearing out Royce’s things.
Steps that he sure hadn’t taken.
He’d visited Ella’s grave and donated her clothes, but those were just dents in what needed to be done. He couldn’t give away his house, but he could get moving on the plans for the new place he wanted to build. A place that’d be Dara’s and his home. He could also toss the receipt that he’d spent way too much time dwelling over—especially now that Ella had almost certainly bought the test for Frankie. He could also pack up the rest of her stuff in his man-shed.
And that left the storage unit.
He hadn’t gone back after he’d discovered it existed, but that was something he could get started on now. Now though took him a couple of minutes. Joe drove around some more, stalling under the guise of mulling over how and where to move the paintings. However, it didn’t take him long to get fed up with his own wishy-washy mood, and he headed for the storage unit.
Like before, he used the code to go in, and a little part of him hoped that he had imagined all of this. But, no, the paintings were still there, including the one of Royce. He forced himself to go closer to it and study it with an eye that wasn’t jaded because this might have been his wife’s lover.
Excellent work, he decided.
Ella had managed to capture his golden-boy looks all wrapped up in a professional package. And speaking of packages, there was a thick envelope taped to the wall beside the portrait.
Hell, not another secret.
Groaning, he peeled it off, opened it and saw a contract. It was similar to the one he’d just signed for the sale of cattle, but he cut through the legalese to realize this was a contract Royce had initiated to commission Ella to paint a portrait of him that was to be hung in his law office. Everything was spelled out. Size, payment and completion date. A date that was a week after Ella and Royce had died. Both Royce and Ella had signed it.
So, a secret but not a bad one. Ella hadn’t painted her lover’s portrait because of her feelings for him. It’d been a job. But that didn
’t mean the feelings hadn’t also been there. Even so, this portrait belonged to Millie now, and he’d need to ask her what she wanted to do with it.
Tucking the contract under his arm, Joe glanced around at the other paintings. All landscapes, and they were connected. It was sort of a sweeping view of Parkman Pass, one of the prettier spots around Last Ride. It was a valley known for its wildflowers, ribboning streams and red oaks. Ella had captured a good quarter mile of the Pass with the “snapshot” paintings.
He spotted another envelope taped to the wall next to a painted meadow of bluebonnets. Another contract from the looks of it. So, maybe Royce had commissioned these, too. Joe opened it and read through more of the legalese.
Then stopped cold.
It was a contract all right but not with Royce. This was with an art gallery, Artista, in San Antonio. Joe had heard of the gallery. In fact, Ella had taken him there once after one of their Taco Cabana outings. He knew next to nothing about art, but there had been some nice paintings in it.
He continued reading and stopped cold again. This agreement was for Ella to provide fifteen to twenty paintings for an art exhibition. Unlike the contract with Royce, this one wasn’t signed, but there was a note paper-clipped to the second page of the contract. It was Ella’s handwriting and was on a grocery receipt.
“Check measurements for exhibit space.”
Joe reread it, looked around at the paintings and let it all sink in. These paintings were for an art exhibition. One that she was obviously still considering since she hadn’t signed it. Or rather she hadn’t signed the copy here in the storage unit. He looked at the bottom of the second page and spotted the signature block for Payton Kirk, owner, Artista Gallery. He or she hadn’t signed, either, but the address and phone number were there so Joe took out his phone and made the call.
He figured he’d have to leave a message or go through an assistant, but the man who answered said, “Payton Kirk. How may I help you?”
It took Joe a moment to get his tongue untwisted and to gather his thoughts. “Uh, I’m Joe McCann. Ella McCann’s husband,” he added.
There was a beat of silence, followed by a heavy sigh. “Mr. McCann, I heard about your wife’s death on the news. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The last part was something people said all the time to him, but it sounded genuine. “You knew Ella?” he asked.
Another beat of silence. “Yes. I found her paintings online. I contacted her and asked her if she had other paintings, that I was very interested in seeing them. She came to the gallery, showed me some examples of her other work, and I offered her an exhibition.” He paused. “That’s a huge deal for an artist, Mr. McCann.”
Joe had already figured that out. “Did you tell Ella to keep all of this a secret while you were working out the details?”
“No. Actually, she was the one who wanted to keep it quiet. She wanted to wait until everything was all set up before she brought you and her daughter in for the big reveal.”
Joe couldn’t get any words to come out of his mouth. They were just stuck there in his throat. Oh, God.
Oh, God.
“Ella was very nervous about all of this,” Payton went on. “She thought maybe the exhibition would fall through and she didn’t want to get up your hopes. She swore me to secrecy, Mr. McCann.” He paused again. “After I heard about her death, I figured there was no reason to tell anyone about it.”
Joe cleared his throat. “Was she coming to the gallery the day she died?”
“I’m not sure, but it was possible. Her lawyer was revising the contract, and once they had worked out all the details, they were going to bring it in to me so we could sign it together. I’d told Ella I’d be in the gallery all that week, but we didn’t have a set time for an appointment.”
Suddenly, everything fell into place. “And her lawyer’s name?” Joe asked.
“I’ve got that right here.” There was the sound of clicks on a keyboard, and several moments later, Payton gave Joe the answer he already knew. “Ella’s lawyer was Royce Dayton.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MILLIE LOCKED UP the shop and started the walk to her house. She smiled when she thought of the renovation plans she was making. Smiled, too, at the thought that soon her commute to work would be very short indeed. It was only yards from her office and up the back stairs to the living quarters.
Her living quarters.
Yes, it was temporary, but the house she’d eventually buy would be hers, as well. She still hadn’t shared that with Laurie Jean, but she just hadn’t been in the mood for a big fight. Soon though, she’d have to spill and weather whatever hurricane her mother blew at her.
Speaking of weather, it felt like she stepped out into a sauna. A storm had rolled through a couple of hours earlier and had left everything feeling sticky and humid.
“Millie?” she heard Joe call out.
She whirled around to see him making his way toward her. During the whirling, she automatically tried to bolster herself in case he’d come to apologize to her, again, about the “I love you.” Or maybe he’d come to make a clean break with her. If so, he was looking forward to it because he looked relieved. Or something. Millie couldn’t quite suss out his expression.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, but he did take hold of her arm and moved her off the sidewalk and under some trees. He glanced around as if to make sure no one was close enough to listen. No one was.
“I just came from the storage unit Ella had rented to store some paintings,” Joe said. He moved his hands to her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. “A gallery owner in San Antonio wanted to do an exhibit with her art, and Royce drew up the contract for it. Ella asked the gallery owner to keep it hush-hush until it was a done deal so she could surprise Dara and me.”
Since Royce had commissioned Ella to do a portrait, that didn’t shock Millie. Nor did it shock her that Ella had wanted this to be a grand surprise.
Then, it sank in.
“That’s why they were together in the car?” she murmured.
Joe nodded, and she got a glimmer of what his expression was all about. He was relieved. “I talked to the gallery owner, and he said Royce and Ella planned to bring in the contract and sign it there at the gallery.”
Her breath rushed out in one long swoosh, and Millie was thankful Joe was still holding on to her because the bones vanished from her legs.
“That’s why they were together in the car,” she repeated, but this time it wasn’t a question.
Trying to gulp in air, Millie managed to step back so she could lean against one of the trees. Had her heart stopped for a couple of seconds? It certainly felt like it. In fact, it felt as if everything had stopped except for the thoughts that were racing through her head.
That’s why they were together in the car.
Joe didn’t ask her if she was okay, probably because he’d had the same experience she was having when he’d first discovered the truth. He knew what she was feeling, and she knew why she’d seen the relief on his face. Relief mixed with so many other emotions. Those emotions came over her in thick, hot waves, and she finally just sank down onto the ground.
Joe sat, too, beside her. Not holding her. Not trying to reassure her. Probably because this still had to be sinking in for him, too.
The minutes crawled by as they sat there. Millie was aware of people walking past them on the sidewalk. Some were probably gawking, too, and wondering what the heck was going on. Thankfully though, none of them stopped to ask if she was okay. Good thing because Millie wasn’t sure she knew the answer to that.
“There was nothing in Royce’s files about doing the gallery contract for Ella?” Joe asked some long moments later.
Millie shook her head. “Nothing that I found, anyway, and if there’d been something about it
at the law firm, Asher would have said. He would have gladly said,” she amended. “Because it would have given Royce a legit reason to be with Ella.”
Squeezing her eyes shut a moment, she forced herself to go back through her conversations with Royce. “Royce didn’t mention anything about doing an art gallery contract. And Asher sometimes complained that Royce sometimes did work at home before bringing it into the office.”
“Plus, this might have been something Royce was doing as a favor,” Joe added. Of course, he’d given this some thought. “Royce obviously liked Ella’s work because he commissioned her to do his portrait. In fact, they could have worked out a deal where his legal services covered some or all the cost of the portrait.”
Yes. That was possible. A business arrangement, one that the client had asked to keep quiet so she could surprise her husband and daughter.
That’s why they were together in the car.
They hadn’t been sneaking off to have sex and cheat on their spouses. And that slammed hard into Millie. He hadn’t tossed his marriage vows out the window. He’d loved her, just as he’d said many, many times.
Tears stung her eyes, and she felt them spill down her cheeks. Joe didn’t try to wipe them away and give her any “now, now” pats. He let her cry it out. No tears for him, but mercy, she could see this giving him some hard slams, too.
All those months of doubting their spouses, of feeling the betrayal and weathering the pain of that betrayal. All of that had been false. The relief came. Then, the guilt that she’d doubted him.
Then, the grief.
A fresh wave of it that fell over her like an avalanche.
Millie continued to sit there, continued to let the emotions bash and batter against her. There were more murmured voices on the sidewalk, and while she wanted to dismiss them, it wouldn’t be long before someone called Laurie Jean and told her that Millie was sitting under some trees with Joe and that something had to be wrong because she was crying. No way could she deal with her mother right now, so Millie gathered up what composure she could.
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