This was Nick Coleman, alias Cole Parker, an outlaw, a man who would be wanted in Illinois and Missouri, if they knew he was alive, a man who drank too much whiskey and consorted with thieves, murderers and whores. Perhaps he only wanted her because he’d drunk too much whiskey, or he simply had gone too long without a woman, or just because she looked like the wife he’d lost to death … and because he was himself reaching out in aching loneliness. Surely they needed each other for all the wrong reasons.
So why didn’t she stop him? Why didn’t she push him away? Tomorrow they would part ways and probably never see each other again; but he kissed her as no other man had ever kissed her, including her own husband. She and Tom had been so young, so new at the art of making love. But Cole Parker knew all the right moves, and for years she had longed to be a woman again.
Yes, Cole Parker was his name now. He was a new man, changed. She wanted to believe that. His kisses were sweet, hot, soft, searching. He made her want to open her mouth in return, to taste his lips, his tongue. She had never kissed this way before. She felt herself being carried to her bed. It was hot, so hot, but it didn’t matter. Cole lay beside her, running a big, strong hand over her belly, her breasts, setting her on fire and turning up the heat even more.
“I need you, Addy,” he groaned. “Please let me be inside you.”
He did not say “I love you.” Why didn’t she care? She couldn’t even say the words back to him, yet her own need was the same. “And I need you inside of me,” she whispered.
Could she possibly have said such a thing to a man she’d known such a short time, a man with his reputation? She felt her clothes coming off, and she ached to be naked, touched, invaded. She tore anxiously at Cole’s shirt. He sat up and removed it, his boots, gunbelt, pants, longjohns. Addy sucked in her breath at the sight of him, his shaft swollen with need. He was a damn fine-looking man, slim hips, flat stomach, broad chest with just enough hair to accent his virility without being offensive.
He came closer. There was the scar at his left shoulder where she’d taken a bullet out of him. She hardly noticed the burn scars on his right arm. They did little to detract from the hard masculinity of the man, the handsome face, square jaw, full lips, the blue eyes that melted all her defenses, the dark, wavy hair, little pieces of it now dangling around his face and forehead, hiding another scar there … a scar from the war … from the day his whole life was changed forever.
She hadn’t even bothered to notice the scar on his leg from that same war. How could she be so brazen? Those blue eyes were raking her naked body. Now his big hands were touching her at the knees, running along her thighs, gently pulling her legs apart. “God, you’re beautiful, Addy,” he said softly. He moved between her legs, ran his hands up her ribs, massaged her breasts, toyed with her nipples until she groaned. He leaned down then, taking one breast into his mouth hungrily, pulling at it until she felt insane with the need of him.
She gasped then when suddenly his hot shaft slid deep inside of her, filling her to glorious ecstasy, satisfying a hunger long neglected. She arched up to him in total abandon, and in only moments she felt an almost agonizing climax that made her dig her fingers into his muscled arms and cry out his name. “Cole! Oh, Cole, don’t stop!”
He came closer, moving his hands under her bottom and grasping it as he moved rhythmically, surging deep, groaning her name in return as he kissed and licked at her neck, her mouth, then stretching out flat so that her face came only to his shoulders. She groaned, licking at his salty skin, surprised she wanted to do these things. She had never been so wanton with Tom.
Finally he raised up, grasping her hips and pulling her to him as he rammed into her almost violently before finally his own release came. He held himself there for several seconds, then remained inside of her as he came closer again, resting his elbows on either side of her. “Stay right there,” he told her softly, before kissing her wildly again.
There it came. She felt him swelling inside of her again. He would continue the sweet, rhythmic fulfillment, and she didn’t even mind. She ran her hands over his shoulders, to his face, touched his lips. She opened her eyes, looked straight into his. Wrong, so wrong. They both knew it, but their bodies would not obey the mind’s common sense.
The night swirled with lovemaking, touches, kisses. With Tom there had only been kisses and intercourse. With Cole Parker it was kisses so deep that a woman couldn’t think, more kisses along her body, her breasts, her thighs, secret places her own first husband had not touched this way. And the way he had of using his hands, so gentle for such a big man, exploring, touching that magical spot in light, circular motions that made her ache for more.
Addy remembered getting up a couple of times to wash, but it had all been like a dream, and she had climbed right back into bed with Cole, neither of them aware of the heat from the outside air, only the heat from their own bodies. The dark of night settled upon them, and sometime during the night they fell asleep holding each other, each of them needing to be held, longing for just one night not to have to sleep alone.
Dawn snuck up on them, and before Addy could come to her senses, Cole was gently rubbing the insides of her thighs, his mouth covering her own, then moving to her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, savoring, groaning her name. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he told her, “even prettier than Bethanne.”
A little voice told her he was only pretending she was someone else … another voice warned her that perhaps he said those same words to every woman, even the whores. “Cole,” she started to protest. She didn’t finish the sentence. A thrilling shiver moved through her when his blue eyes raked her nakedness in the morning light, and when she realized few men could match Cole Parker in bed. He knew every right touch, and before she realized what was happening, he surged inside of her again, filling her deep and hard, again awakening long-buried needs and wiping away all protest. She raised her hips to meet him, and she clung to his powerful forearms. For several more minutes they enjoyed the pleasures of being one, coming together in sweet passion, savoring the ecstasy of having long-felt needs satisfied.
Addy could not understand what had happened to her. She had taken this man with wild desire and wanton abandon, as hungry and wicked as any prostitute, she supposed. This was so wrong! He had not even said he loved her, and although somewhere deep inside she knew she was herself falling in love, she could not bring herself to say the words; not just because Cole had not said them, but also because she could not believe it was proper to love such a man.
So, what was she doing in bed with him? With one last thrust he pushed deep, groaned when he found his release. A brighter morning light and the sound of a waking town in the street below brought Addy back to reality, and as soon as Cole moved off of her she turned on her side, feeling sick with guilt and shame. She pulled a blanket over her nakedness and lay there trying to gather her thoughts, and when Cole moved beside her and put an arm around her, she asked him to take it away.
“You planned this, didn’t you? You knew if I drank all that wine I’d be vulnerable.” She covered her face and groaned. “My God, what have I done?”
Cole rolled onto his back and sighed deeply. “I didn’t plan anything. I just wanted to take you for a nice meal before we parted ways. I didn’t know wine made you so tipsy.”
“I seldom drink.”
Cole rubbed at his eyes. “All I did was help you to your room. I didn’t want you to get in any trouble out in the streets, and when we reached the stairs you didn’t seem too steady on your feet. When I got you into the room …” He turned and touched her shoulder, but she jerked it away. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of anything, Addy. We both had a need, and that’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t!” Addy sat up, keeping her back to him, vividly remembering all the things she had allowed him to do last night, brazenly allowing him to explore private places even Tom had not invaded so intimately. “I have nev
er behaved so shamefully, let alone with a man I still hardly know. You don’t even know what you want to do with yourself now, and I don’t suppose you can even say that you love me.”
Cole thought about the words, wanted to say them for her sake. He suspected love was what he truly felt for Addy Kane … or did he just want her to be Bethanne? He knew Addy needed to hear him tell her he loved her, in order to feel better about what they had done last night and this morning; yet he could not bring himself to say it. He had no right loving her, was not worthy of someone like Addy Kane, not anymore, nor was he sure his emotional wounds were healed enough to make such a commitment.
“Just as I thought,” Addy said, wrapping a blanket around herself as she rose.
“Addy—”
“You used me, took advantage of my own loneliness, the wine …”
“And you didn’t take advantage of me?”
Addy blushed, realizing her own desires had been great. She remembered now. He had said he needed to be inside of her, and she had answered that she needed him in return. “I’ve never drunk that much wine before. I wasn’t myself. I hope you don’t think I’ve ever done this with anyone else since Tom died. I haven’t. And if I didn’t feel so out of touch with my true feelings, confused and lost by this trip, last night would never have happened.”
Cole felt his own heart fall a little. He had half hoped to hear her say she loved him, even though he couldn’t reply the same … not yet … or could he? “Addy, I didn’t just use you for my pleasure. I was lonely. I wanted to hold someone and be held in return. I think you wanted the same.”
Addy’s thoughts raced with the shame of it. Had she really been that lost and lonely? “I always thought I was much stronger than that. I am disappointed in myself, ashamed of myself. And no matter what you say, I can’t believe you didn’t plan all of this. You had already been drinking, maybe even plotting with that—that Darla—how you could get me into bed.” She let out a little gasp, whirling to face him. “Dear God! You didn’t—you hadn’t already slept with her, had you?”
Cole shook his head, his own anger rising. “Hell no! The woman wanted to do business with me, but I left to find you. I told you, all I wanted was to come and see you, take you to eat someplace. I didn’t plan any of this, Addy. You have to believe that. It just … happened. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I do! You had a need, and if it hadn’t been me, it would have been Darla Simms! I was nothing more than a prostitute to you, and I—” Her eyes teared, and she turned away again, covering her face with one hand while she held up the blanket with the other. “I feel like a prostitute! In my whole life I never would have dreamed I could do such a thing, and with an outlaw! Do you know what the rules are for school teachers? They’re supposed to be the epitome of proper morals. They’re supposed to conduct themselves—”
“Who the hell in Colorado is going to know what happened between us?” Cole interrupted. “Who the hell in this town even knows, or cares? Do you think I’m going to run to your damn education committee, or whoever, and tell them I slept with you? Hell, I’m not even going there!” He threw back his covers and walked to the washpan to clean himself.
Addy turned to say something, saw his nakedness and turned away again. After last night, why was it suddenly embarrassing for her to look at him? “What … what are you doing?”
“I’m getting dressed so I can get out of here!” he answered angrily.
Addy heard him moving around, the sound of him pulling on clothes. I want you to stay, a little voice inside longed to shout. I want you to hold me once more, tell me you love me. I want to at least still be friends. She had insulted him when she said she couldn’t believe she’d done such a thing with an outlaw. Yes, he had been one, but for reasons anyone could understand. Yet she had said it as though he were something repulsive, and perhaps the way she had said it would only drive him right back into that life at a time when he might have been helped out of it. The man was lonely, confused. Perhaps it might even have helped to tell him she loved him. But then how could she say that yet? Such things took time, and they had had no time at all. Now he was leaving. After today she wouldn’t see him again, yet she had spent a night more intimate than she ever could have dreamed, a night of ecstasy, exotic fulfillment, pure pleasure unlike anything she had ever experienced. She wanted to feel that way again, and she already knew only Cole Parker would give her that pleasure. But he was not the kind of man a woman considered spending the rest of her life with.
She heard his footsteps behind her. “You believe what you want,” came his deep voice. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m not good enough for you, that we’re not right for each other. I already know it. But damn it, last night was pretty damn great. I didn’t use you or trick you, Addy. You have to believe that. I just plain wanted you, for you. No prostitute could have made me feel the same. We share a special kind of friendship because of what we went through back at that cabin, and we both understand each other more than anybody else could. Consider what happened last night a kind of special good-bye.”
There it was again, that word good-bye. Why was it men were capable of sharing something so special and considered it nothing more important than a good-bye kiss? It was so easy for them to stay uninvolved, to unite with someone physically but not emotionally. She drew in her breath, refusing to allow her own emotions to take over. She was on her way to start a whole new life. She could not let her own confusion and loneliness cause her to sell herself short here in Abilene, to go falling all over a man who was wanted in some states, who drank too much, who whored with nameless women, and who was still essentially an outlaw.
“Fine,” she answered. “Good-bye, then. Thank you for coming this far with me, wanting to … take me to eat last night. I hope you find work here in Abilene, discover what you want to do with yourself, maybe settle. Perhaps you’ll be able to start a ranch of your own, something like that.”
Cole wanted to grab her, shake her … wanted to make love to her again. “Yeah, maybe.” He turned and walked to the door. “Don’t feel ashamed about last night, Addy. Not that the opinion of a man like me matters, but I don’t think any different about you. In my book you’re still a fine lady, and I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for in Colorado. I’ll always think highly of you, and I damn well won’t soon forget a woman who reached inside me and pulled a bullet out with her bare fingers … or who made me feel like I felt last night.”
Before Addy could reply he was out the door. She turned just in time to see it close, and she felt sick inside. Last night had only added to her confusion and loneliness, not helped it. She walked to a window to see him step out into the street. He headed for the Roundup. “I suppose you need your breakfast drink,” she murmured.
It infuriated Addy that she had to fight tears through everything she did the rest of the day, and she hated Cole Parker for giving her this problem. Her insides still ached pleasurably from a night of heated, almost painful lovemaking by a man who had more to offer than most women could handle. Still, she was not sure she could call it lovemaking. Sinful. Yes, it certainly could and should be called that. A shameful attempt at satisfying base desires. Apparently it was nothing more than that, two casual friends who each needed satisfaction. At least that was how Cole looked at it. It didn’t matter that he said he thought no less of her. It was something she had to live with, something she never dreamed she could do, and it only left her more torn emotionally, wondering who Addy Kane really was. When she remembered Nick Coleman storming into the bank back in Unionville, sporting a rifle threateningly, to think she had spent the night with that same man was astounding … and unforgivable.
She stood in front of the stage station now, waiting for departure, feeling totally unprepared for this next part of her journey … into dangerous Indian country. There would be no Cole Parker along to protect her in case the stage was attacked by Indians or bandits. She watched a man load he
r trunk and other bags onto the top of the coach, arranging them amid boxes and mail bags. “Your bags will be tied on securely soon as I get everybody’s up here,” the man called down to her.
Addy nodded, turning to see the two couples approaching who had disembarked from the train the day before. One of them, a tall, skinny, dark-haired woman of perhaps forty, smiled and put out her hand.
“Hello. My name is Rebecca Bean. You were on the same train as me and my husband when it stopped here yesterday. This is my husband, George.” The woman’s husband, a balding man who wore a lightweight suit, nodded to Addy, but he had too many bags in his hands and under his arms to offer a handshake.
Addy grasped Rebecca’s hand. “Hello. Yes, I do remember you. I am Addy Kane. I’m widowed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. The war?”
Addy nodded.
“We lost a son. We have another living in Denver, so we’re going there to be with him, since he’s our only remaining child.”
Addy squeezed her hand. “I’m terribly sorry. I have no children, but I can imagine what a sad experience that must have been for you.” She turned to watch the baggage man again. Mr. Bean was throwing bags up to him. “I just hope we all make it as far as Denver without Indian trouble,” she told Rebecca Bean.
“Oh, yes!” Rebecca put a hand to her flat chest. “I hear sometimes there is no trouble at all. I suppose we simply must take our chances.”
Addy nodded, then moved her eyes to the second couple, who had walked up beside Rebecca after dropping their luggage near the coach. They were younger, perhaps not much older than Addy herself. The woman was quite pretty, blond hair, brown eyes, her dress a simple calico. The man wore denim pants and a light cotton shirt. They were obviously not wealthy, but they looked very happy, and Addy suspected they had not been married long. The man tipped his hat to her, and his wife smiled eagerly. Addy suspected she was happy that two more women would be on the coach. She detected a nervous fear about her, probably the same fear they all felt going into a strange new land.
Until Tomorrow Page 11
