by Laura Wright
No, he wanted Ava. Under him, moaning his name. Beneath his feet, the towels soaked up the water, seeping slowly across the paper, inch by inch, just like his resolve.
He raked a hand through his hair. Nothing had changed. Not his desire for her in his bed or in his heart. But there was one thing he knew for sure. He was going to fight like hell to keep her out of both.
* * *
Seven
« ^ »
Ava pushed her empty cart up and down the canned food aisle of the Killer Chicken Market for the third time that afternoon.
Why had she come back here?
The question nagged at her. Why had she come here? Not to the market, but to Paradise. It wasn't just for Rita's wedding. She'd known that the minute she'd stepped off the plane a week ago. Her sister's wedding had been the excuse she'd been waiting for, certainly, but not the purpose.
No, she'd come back to face Jared. Finally tell him the truth. And she'd come to see if he had any residual feelings left for her or if her quick departure out of town four years ago had quashed all sentiment in his heart.
But after the night before last she still had no clear-cut answers.
Over the last several days, she and Jared had gone about their lives without intimate discussion. During the day, he hung out with Lily, playing games and reading to her. At night, Ava would cuddle with her and sing her to sleep. Then later, when the house was quiet, she and Jared would casually end up in the living room, talk for a bit then make their way upstairs to separate bedrooms.
Clearly that encounter in the kitchen was weighing heavily on both their minds, she thought, recalling how Jared's eyes would fill with longing whenever he looked her way.
She could only imagine that her own gaze mirrored his.
"My husband and I are looking into buying the Thompson place when it goes up for sale."
The feminine and plainly older high-pitched chatter in the next aisle caught Ava's attention immediately and she scooted closer to the pickled beets to listen.
"Ben Thompson is selling his land?" the second woman asked. "He's had that ranch for too many years to count."
"It's the rumor about town, Sara, that's all I'm saying. He just can't keep up the place now."
"What a pity."
"Not for Carl and I."
"Sheri-Ann, that's terrible!" Sara scolded.
Sheri-Ann lowered her voice a fraction, which wasn't saying much. "Serves the man right, I say. He treated his workers pretty poorly and his daughters worse."
Ava felt a rumble of sadness in her chest. Yes, her father hadn't been kind to his workers and had treated her abominably. The women weren't wrong about that. But he was her father after all, and there was nothing that straightened a person's spine and lifted her nose more than someone insulting the only family a person had—truth or not.
"Some say he's a changed man since that car sideswiped him a few years back," Sara said.
"Don't know anything about that. But I ask you, how much can a man his age really change?"
The women continued in opposition down the aisle, their voices growing slightly muffled as they went. Ava glanced to her right, her stomach tightening. Soon they'd be coming up her aisle. Soon they'd see her and realize who she was and what she'd heard them say. There was a part of her that wanted to see their faces when that happened. But the other part just wanted to get the heck out of Dodge before everyone got embarrassed as they tried to explain away their callous commentary.
So she rolled her cart in the opposite direction and headed for the produce section for salad fixings. But as hard as she tried to shut it out, her mind remained focused on the overheard conversation. For as much as she wanted to agree with Sheri-Ann's take on her father's lack of change, she couldn't help but wonder if he really had. And if he had, would she ever be able to give him a chance to prove it?
* * *
"Are you sure?"
"I'm at the hall of records right now, Mr. Redwolf."
As the last rays of the day's sun filtered through the window behind him, Jared sat forward at his desk, gripping the phone so tightly he wouldn't have been surprised if it had broken in half. "They could've been married out of state."
"Nope," the private detective said. "My buddy at the FBI did some checking on that. Never happened."
"What about Lily's birth certificate?"
"No father listed. Just the mother. I'm telling you, this lady was never married."
Muttering an oath, Jared dropped back in his chair and swiveled away from his desk and around to face the floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a crystal-clear view of his substantial acreage.
"Why the hell would she tell me…?"
Jared didn't finish the question as the detective grunted and said, "You might find this interesting."
"What's that?"
"In all the time Miss Thompson lived in New York, she never dated."
"Say that again."
Jared could hear the detective flipping through pages. "At least we couldn't come up with a name. And you know how thorough we are."
Yes. Jared did know. After thanking the man, he hung up the phone and rubbed a hand over his jaw. He didn't have a clue how to feel about this news. In one sense he was glad that no other man had a claim on Lily, that no other man had touched her mother. He also felt shocked that Ava hadn't dated in four years. But the strongest emotion that stirred in his blood was anger.
Ava had lied to him about the husband.
She'd lied to him again.
For one brief second he wondered if she'd lied to him about Lily being his child. But the thought was gone in an instant. He could see himself and Muna and his mother in Lily. And more important, he could feel, just as Muna had, that the little girl was his.
So why then? Why had Ava gone to New York if it wasn't for another man? And why lie about it? Was it as he'd suspected? When she'd found out she was pregnant, had she felt that Jared couldn't support them? Or was there more? More she wasn't telling him?
Jared jerked to his feet, walked to the window, stared into the heart of the ginger sunset. How had things gotten so tricky? He was angry with the woman who had given him Lily. He was angry with the woman he desired more than anything in the world. He was angry with the woman who made him so happy and carefree when she was near.
Where had his resolve escaped to when he needed it most?
His hands hailed into fists at his side. He wanted to confront Ava about what he'd learned. Yet, he didn't want to hear the answer. All he wanted—all he'd wanted from the moment he'd seen her in Benton's Bridal and Formalwear—was her in his arms, her whispering in his ear as he pushed into her body.
Just once more.
To remember, and to forget.
Just once more to get her out of his mind and his soul.
Muttering an oath, he stalked to the door and headed out to find his sanity in the only place it dwelled.
* * *
Overhead, the full moon gleamed opal, lighting a pathway up the curve of hill. Beside Ava, Tim Donahue, Jared's brawny ranch foreman, guided the trek while all around them, the wild, yelping call of prowling cougars, though far off, seemed to encircle the twosome as they walked the Redwolf land.
But being in the midst of this wild territory was only part of the reason Ava's heart thudded nervously in her chest. Several yards away, a fire smoldered in a deep pit, while behind it sat Jared's sweat lodge, a brown dome-like structure supported by several wood poles. She'd heard Jared speak of such a place way back when they'd shared such intimacies, but she'd never seen him create one.
Odds were, he hadn't been too keen on building a sweat lodge on her father's land. Nor would her father have permitted it.
"Here we are, ma'am."
Ava glanced up at the handsome older man and smiled. "Thanks, Tim."
"He's not going to be happy you've come. Not right away anyway. Give him some time."
"I don't have much time."
He grinned. "Y
ou know something, Miss Thompson?"
"Ava, please."
His grin widened. "He wants to forgive you."
It took Ava a moment to register what he'd just said, a little stunned by the directness of it all. "Does he?"
Tim nodded. "Just doesn't know how. Afraid to, I expect. But you'll help him won't you, Ava?"
Tim didn't wait for an answer, merely grasped the brim of his Stetson, gave her a quick wink and walked off down the path and over the hill.
Ava stared after him for a moment, thinking about what he'd said, wondering if it was true—if it were possible. Then she turned back to the sweat lodge and pressed onward.
Feeling as though she was trespassing on sacred ground, she trod lightly as she walked past the fire pit and up to the tarp door of the lodge. The scent of smoke was intense and she could hear a deep, rhythmic and incredibly beautiful sound coming from inside.
It was Jared, chanting, praying.
But for what, she could only wonder.
Her hand paused against the warm green tarp, wondering for a moment if it would be best if she turned around, ran to find Tim, headed back to the house. After all, she could speak to him about such practical matters later. But something out of her realm of understanding forced her hand, then guided her through the door.
A blast of intense heat assaulted her body while the scent of smoke and sage shot into her nostrils, making them burn. Swallowing the grit in her throat, she rubbed a hand over her eyes to clear her vision. It was dark inside the sweat lodge; just the light from several smooth melon-size stones in a smoldering pit in front of her illuminated the room.
Damp with sweat, she squinted as her eyes became accustomed to the dimness. Then she saw him. Sitting nude before the pit, his head down, his black hair falling past his shoulders.
"Jared?"
He looked up slowly, his face wet with sweat, his eyes glowing with a passion she couldn't name.
Her heart jolted with awareness.
"You seem to continually find me naked," he said, his voice lazy, husky.
"It's not by design, I promise you."
"Are you sure?"
She made the mistake of hesitating a second too long, and a dark grin tugged at his full mouth.
"Well, this time I refuse to cover up," he said. "You're in my space, my sanctuary."
"True," she said, the intensity of the heat baking her skin, the intensity of his gaze imprisoning her heart.
"And besides, you've seen it all before, isn't that right?" he said as he poured water onto the rocks, making them glow and hiss.
"Well—"
"I meant the male form, Ava. Your husband certainly…"
"Right. My husband." She shifted from one foot to the other.
"Did he look like me?"
"What? What do you mean?"
Jared stood, his nude, wet skin glistening in the dim light. "Was he smooth like me or did he have hair?"
Ava swallowed hard. "I don't—"
"Remember?"
She made no move to answer him. How could she? How could she with him standing there, staring at her like he was? So beautiful. So tall, long, lean, all sharp angles, so proud as the sublime maleness of him grew hard beneath her gaze. And though she could barely breathe from the smothering heat inside the tent, her legs itched to run toward him, her fingers itched to touch him, run her palms up his smooth, finely muscled chest to his neck, then deep into his hair, and finally to the back of his head, pulling him down to her mouth.
"We were talking about your husband," he said tightly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Her heart sank. "I know."
"Was he tall like me?"
"No."
"Did his eyes move over every inch of your skin the way mine did?"
"Jared—"
He wasn't about to give up. "Did he feel like me, Ava? Did he feel like me when he was inside you?"
She colored fiercely, her legs feeling disturbingly water-filled as her gaze flickered down his body once more. "Maybe I … I can meet you back at the house to talk—"
"You're uncomfortable."
"The heat's oppressive."
"It must be to cleanse the soul, to ask for what we desire most—and desire to be rid of." He brushed off a bead of sweat winding its way down his neck. "But I know what will make you feel more at ease."
"Do you?"
He nodded. "Take off your clothes."
"What?" She fairly choked out the word.
"Take off your clothes, sit beside me—or under me—" his eyes darkened dangerously "—and we'll … talk."
Ava waited for the slam of shock she expected to ripple through her body, but it never came. She'd come here to talk, yes, about Lily, about life after Rita's wedding, but if truth be told she'd also come here to be with him, around him and even beneath him if he was really serious in his offer. The truth was, when he wasn't near, when she couldn't hear his voice, she felt completely disconnected. Jared Redwolf had been such an enormous part of her life, both as a flesh and blood man and as a fantasy that she'd grown accustomed—no, addicted—to loving him.
"Mulling it over?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice.
"Just weighing the pros and cons."
He chuckled enigmatically. "You should know that with me the pros far outweigh the cons." His lips tightened. "But perhaps you don't remember—"
"I remember." Ava said the words with such vehemence that they actually elicited a smile, a genuine smile, from Jared.
His gaze swept her. "I could direct you."
"What do you mean?"
"With your clothing. I could direct you." He raised a brow at her. "First you must remove your socks and shoes. They have no place here."
She bit her lip, tasted her own sweat. If she started this, where would it end? If they made love, where would it end?
No answers came and she didn't fight herself for them. She was ready to be touched by this man again. It was her destiny, her right. She bent down and took off her socks and shoes.
"Now your jacket," he commanded softly. Her gaze found his and with trembling hands, she did as he commanded.
"Your shirt must go next."
Slowly she unbuttoned her white blouse, shrugged out of it and let it fall to the dirt floor below.
Jared's gaze dipped, taking in the bra she wore, the pale pink silk damp with sweat. A muscle flicked in his jaw and he muttered, "Jeans."
Her fingers reached for button and zipper as she kept her gaze locked with his. With her heart pounding in her ears, she slipped out of her pants, feeling no cooler as she tossed them aside.
His gaze fierce with hunger, Jared walked around the pit and stood before her. "I'll help you with these last two."
She held her arms out to her sides. Her defenses were completely gone now, given in to the man before her, the man she'd loved for so long. She nodded in surrender. With a slow grin, Jared reached up and unhooked her bra in one easy motion. Ava couldn't help but smile in return. He'd done the same on their first night together and she'd never forgotten it.
But her smile quickly faded when Jared eased off the silky fabric altogether and she stood before him nude from the waist up.
Heat suffused her breasts, tickled her nipples, the rosy peaks beading with desire as Jared palmed her stomach, then pressed downward, down to the edge of her panties. Ava sucked in a breath, waiting, wondering if he would feel as amazing as she remembered.
But Jared didn't slide the slip of silk over her hips. Instead he eased a hand down, inside the damp fabric.
Ava released the breath she was holding, let her eyes drift closed, let her mind shut off.
His mouth inches from hers, his breath scented with sage, he whispered, "You're so warm."
"It's you," she uttered hoarsely.
He didn't respond to her compliment, said instead, "What did you come here to say, Ava?"
Eyes still shut, she shook her head. "I don't remember."
His fingers d
rifted lower, played in her woman's hair for just a moment before settling into the wet lips beneath. "You sure you don't remember?" he asked.
She could only nod, not entirely sure if asked if she recall her own name.
"Was it about your life?" he asked, his fingers drifting back and forth over the bundle of nerves at her core.
She arched her back, then thrust her hips toward him, silently pleading with him to put her out of her misery, to thrust his fingers inside of her. Never in her life had she wanted something so much as Jared inside her in any way possible.
He nuzzled her neck, but didn't kiss her as he whispered against her skin, "Was it about your husband?"
"What?" She heard the question in her head and cursed into the hot air around them. "No!"
He lifted his head, his mouth now hovering above hers. "You know I'm not going to give up on this subject."
"Jared, please—" she begged.
"Tell me about your husband."
"There was no husband, all right?" she practically shouted.
"No?"
"No!" Ava opened her eyes, stared up at him, her body so consumed with need she was almost to the point of pain. "There's never been anyone but you."
After searching her gaze for one brief moment, Jared nodded, "That's what I wanted to hear," then thrust his fingers deep inside her.
Ava gasped, needing air, needing more. She pumped her hips, taking him in and out of her body as she forced her mind to close. She wouldn't admonish herself for blurting out the truth. No, she was glad it was done. She wouldn't ask herself why he didn't seem surprised at her admission, either. She wouldn't ask because at that moment she didn't care. All she wanted was Jared's touch. It had been too long since a man had touched her and this man was all she'd ever wanted.
Jared worked her like a man who knew her inside and out, a man who knew how to make her scream with desire. But he didn't kiss her, didn't speak, didn't even moan as he played her body. He just held her against him, thrusting his fingers deeper and deeper inside her.
Hashes of pure pleasure, of the orgasm to come, rippled through Ava and she smiled to herself. How could a woman want to climax yet not want to climax all in the same moment? Well, she had little choice in the matter as Jared began to flick the sensitive skin beneath her slick, wet folds.
