The Truth About Love

by Sheila Athens

  “If I needed to be preached to”—his dad’s eyes narrowed—“I’d go to church.”

  “Where’d you get the money to post bail?”

  His dad seemed offended. “I been working a little bit.”

  “You have a little bit of money? An opportunity to get ahead?” Landon paced around the room, anger seeping from his pores. “And you spend it on bail? Or some stupid bait shop?”

  His father’s eyes nailed him. “My money is none of your business.”

  “Okay, then let’s switch to something that is my business.” He lunged toward his father, stopping just short of bumping him with his chest. “Where were you the day Mama was killed?” If the DNA wasn’t going to give him any answers, then maybe he’d finally badger his father enough to learn the truth.

  Martin waved a dismissive hand. “This is all old news.”

  “You and Grady Buchanan were delivering a load of lumber to the North Carolina mountains. Or don’t you remember?”

  “That girlfriend of yours has you all messed up in the head,” Martin said. “You shoulda been over this shit a long time ago.”

  “Where were you that day?” Landed repeated.

  “I was with Grady Buchanan. We delivered some wood in North Carolina, then went to the casino in Cherokee.”

  So the old man was sticking with his story. Landon had given him one final chance to come clean and the guy had blown it.

  He was never going to get any answers. He picked up his car keys. “I was just going out for the night,” he lied. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  Landon felt like he might bust down Gina’s door if she didn’t answer soon. His adrenaline was still pumping from the run-in he’d had with his dad, and besides, her SUV was parked on the street, so why wasn’t she answering? He needed to talk to her. Needed to hold her. Needed the grounding her presence gave him.

  Finally, he saw her silhouette come down the short hallway. Her hand went to the inside of the wall in the breakfast nook, and the light in the kitchen came on around the corner. She squinted toward the door, then walked to it and flipped on the outside light before she unlocked the deadbolt.

  “You look like hell,” she said as she opened the door.

  He stormed in—his body still pumped with adrenaline—and tried to calm himself down. He didn’t want to scare her. And he would never, ever hurt her. He leaned on the wall just inside the door and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I had a fight with my dad.”

  Worry settled into Gina’s brow. “An argument? Or like a fistfight?”

  He must look as wild as his emotions made him feel. “An argument.” Though come to think of it, Landon wished he would have punched him.

  “Okay,” she said slowly, as if trying to gauge what might come next. “You want to talk about it?”

  He felt his heart still racing, his mind still whirling from the argument. He nodded. He glanced down her body as she stood in front of him and took in her outfit—a long, yellow T-shirt shirt hung to her knees. It was looser at the bottom than it was on top, where it cradled her round, ample breasts.

  She reached for his hand and led him to the couch, then sat next to him, pulling her knees up to her chin and tucking the long T-shirt over them. Her bloodred toenail polish had been replaced with a sexy-as-hell pale pink that almost matched the smooth skin of her ankle as it peeked out from under the fabric.

  He breathed slowly, trying to calm down, trying not to scare her with his wild anger.

  “What did he do?” she asked quietly, brushing one of his curls from his forehead.

  “He actually thinks he was a good dad. Like he did me a favor by not being around. ‘Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Bob were there,’ he said. Like that was going to take the place of a dad.” Landon couldn’t sit still. He got up and paced the living room, his emotions still in control of his body.

  “What brought all this on? Why tonight?”

  “He was mad that I didn’t come get him out of jail. Some stupid drunk-and-disorderly charge.” He paced some more, then ended up with his back to her, facing the picture of her family skiing.

  “If he’s treated you so badly all these years”—her voice was almost a whisper, floating from behind him like a voice from the heavens—“why is he so important to you?”

  His back stiffened. She didn’t understand. And probably never would. Not with parents who loved her and raised her. Parents who were always there for her.

  “I just wanted him to care.” His voice came out in shudders.

  He couldn’t face her, even if it meant looking at the damn picture of everything he never had. At least this way, he wouldn’t be able to see her face as she cowered away, frightened by the depth of his anger.

  The couch rustled behind him, and seconds later, she slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back between his shoulder blades. Even if she didn’t understand, her touch made it seem like she did. Even though he would never be good enough for her, he’d savor the few moments when she acted like she cared.

  “You know what I think?” she whispered in the darkness. Her voice came from behind, just below his ear.

  He didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to do anything that might bring this moment to an end.

  “I think you’re witty and caring and . . . that you’ve got a lot to add to this world. And none of those things has anything to do with your dad. They have everything to do with you. The fact that you’re as strong as you are . . . and that you’ve lived with this . . . makes you way more of a man than he is. Makes you way better than just about any man I’ve ever met.”

  His breath caught in his chest. No one, including his mother, had ever said anything so kind to him. So meaningful. He closed his eyes, wondering if he’d imagined her words, but the feel of her head on his back confirmed it was real.

  He wanted his body to soak in the memories of having her near. Of having someone care, not because he was the nephew or because he could throw a pigskin farther downfield than anyone else. But care about him.

  His dad had forced him to face one of the worst truths of his life, but he was also facing the fact that someone cared about him. Wanted to listen to his stories. Everything he wanted was right here, in this room. The soft touch. The sweet smells. The caring.

  She lifted her head from his back as he slowly turned to face her. He looked into her eyes and saw a pool of understanding.

  “You . . .” She touched her hand to his chest. “Are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

  And somehow he knew she believed it. The conviction in her gaze gave him a power, a knowledge, his father could never take away.

  He lowered his head, brushing his lips slowly across the softness of her mouth. The tumult of emotions crashing inside his body changed from anger at his father to a passion he’d never known. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her—gently at first, then pulling her tightly against him while he tried to drink in every facet of her.

  He felt like he was put on earth to kiss her. To hold her. To lie beside her.

  And he hoped to God she felt the same way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Gina closed her eyes as Landon’s lips brushed hers. She knew the unmistakable energy that crackled between them. Felt the urgency of his kiss the second his lips settled on hers.

  Theirs was a passion that had been denied too long. A force that drove his body to hers, and hers to him. His tongue claimed hers in a way that hadn’t been present in their earlier kisses—a confidence, a certainty that this was meant to be.

  One of his big hands splayed across her back, pulling her to him until she felt each sculpted muscle on his chest and stomach. She raised her hands to his waistline and slipped them inside his untucked shirt. She was rewarded by a barely audible moan as she feathered her fingertips across his sides.

&n
bsp; His lips left hers, tracing a line down her neck to her collarbone while his hands glided across her shoulders. He cupped her breasts on the outside of her shirt, his thumbs tracing circles against her hardened nipples.

  Everything in her head screamed “Stop.” Yes, the DNA had been inconclusive, but she still planned to work to get Cyrus Alexander out of prison. She had to find an answer, for both Cyrus and Landon. Professional duties and the sting of Christopher’s betrayal wove together in her consciousness, only to be swept away by how right it felt to be here with Landon. How nothing else in the world seemed to matter. How she could sort out her feelings tomorrow, once he’d glided his eager hands over her body.

  As she surrendered to the war inside her, he slipped her top over her head, dropping it to the floor. His gaze and his hands followed the curves of her breasts like they were a priceless treasure.

  His chest rose and fell twice before his eyes met hers. “You . . . are . . . so . . . beautiful,” he said, then lowered his mouth to her breast, stroking it with his tongue while his other hand caressed its mate.

  She arched her back, offering herself to him as if no pain, no sorrow could come from tonight. The need that burned inside her didn’t know tomorrow, but only the urgency of the moment. The need to touch him, to feel his skin on hers. She raised the fabric of his shirt to feel the striated muscles of his stomach beneath her fingers. He pulled away long enough to yank the shirt over his head, leaving her to marvel at the chest that resembled a work of art as much as it did a living man.

  Her hands explored the roundness of his biceps, the softness of his hair where it curled at his neck, the feeling of solidness that only Landon gave her.

  Finally, her fingers traveled to the front of his shorts, outlining the hardened ridge beneath the fabric. She could tell by the way he touched her that he needed her as badly as she needed him. She used both hands to unbuckle his belt and ease down the zipper.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered as he kissed the nape of her neck.

  A slow, shuddering breath heated the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Bedroom,” he said, as if he couldn’t say any more.

  He followed her there and glided his hands over her hips and backside as she bent over the bed to move the book she’d been reading before she fell asleep. When she turned to face him, those green eyes she would never forget were clouded with emotion, darker than she’d ever seen them.

  He gently pushed her panties down, then stopped her arm as she reached to turn off the bedside lamp. “I . . . want to see . . . everything,” he said, his voice shuddering with passion.

  She dropped her hand, leaving the faint light on to illuminate them. All the better to see his wonderful body as it joined with hers. Since they could have only one night together, at least her mind would be imprinted with memories of it. She slid her hands inside the waistband of his shorts and pushed them down, marveling at the sight of his strong body. His muscular hips and thighs. The erection that showed her so clearly how much he wanted her.

  He guided her to lie on the bed and resumed his exploration as their bodies twined together. Again, his mouth covered her breast. His hand slowly skimmed her rib cage, her stomach, the outside of her thigh.

  When his gentle touch slid up the inside of her legs, she parted them, opening herself to him. He slid a finger inside, then bathed her in the wetness, stroking her to a level of desire she wasn’t sure she could maintain. Never before had a man been as concerned with her pleasure as he had been with his own. Never before had sleeping with someone felt like such an act of sharing.

  She ran her hands along his spine, beckoning him. Knowing the level of pleasure they’d both get when they joined together.

  He rolled away from her and fumbled with his wallet before donning a condom. His face was filled with need as he settled himself on top of her and—with his green eyes never leaving hers—slid himself inside with one motion, gentle but firm.

  He touched her in places she’d never been touched before. Drowned her with emotion she didn’t want to have. Gave her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined possible. She closed her eyes, every cell in her body attuned to the uncontrolled passion between them. Her fingers wrapped around his straining biceps, feeling the strength he shared with her.

  Three breathless moans escaped her as she came. He thrust two more times, then released himself inside her. When their hips stilled, they lay there, spent, as if neither wanted the moment to end.

  Finally, he raised his head. His gaze returned to hers.

  And she feared she was lost forever.

  Landon’s fingers toyed with the ends of Gina’s strawberry-blonde hair as her soft breath warmed his chest. Now that had been the best, most mind-blowing sex of his life. He wouldn’t even put it in the same category with the times he’d slept with other women.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gotten to touch her, to push himself inside her, especially when he’d spent so many days convincing himself he wasn’t attracted to her.

  Yeah, right.

  Like he’d ever really believed that line of BS he’d told himself.

  But he hadn’t stopped long enough to evaluate all the reasons he shouldn’t sleep with her. Not when she was standing in her living room, the outline of her nipples piercing her T-shirt.

  There’d been obvious attraction from the first time they’d met, but was she lying there, with her head on his chest, regretting what she’d done? She’d known about his loser dad before she’d slept with him. Known that most people wanted him only for who he’d been on the football field.

  And still, she’d let him touch her in all the ways he’d lain awake thinking about on so many other nights. She’d actually been the one, in the darkened living room, to say the words. “Make love to me.” He got hard just thinking about it.

  The tips of her fingers feathered down his side. She seemed to have a particular fondness for his hip, tracing the curve of his bone with her forefinger. She raised her head, kissed the line of his jaw, found his mouth with hers. Pressed her soft, supple body to his more muscular one. Wrapped her fingers around his already-swelling cock.

  And soon, he donned a condom and sank into her warm wetness again, marveling at the feel of her around him. Her pelvis moved with a perfect rhythm as she straddled him, pushing him farther inside her with each slow, seductive movement. He lifted his head to take one breast in his mouth, suckling it, tracing her nipple with his tongue, tasting the sweetness that belonged only to her.

  Then his hands moved to her hips, holding them still as he exploded inside her.

  Just as her moans of ecstasy echoed in his ears.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A peace more complete than Gina had felt in a long time settled over her like a warm blanket being tucked around her on a cold winter’s night. The quiet strength of Landon beside her. The gentle rise and fall of his chest while he lay next to her. The moonbeam cast across his long, muscular body.

  “So what are you thinking about?” she asked, somewhat afraid to know the answer.

  She felt, rather than heard, the soft chuckle in his chest. “That I hadn’t really planned on this to happen today.”

  She rolled onto her side to face him. “Not today? Had you thought it would happen . . . ever?” She’d fought an attraction to him every day. Did he fight the same battle?

  He grinned as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me forever.”

  “So you come over here when I’m in my pajamas? To tempt me?”

  “It was nine o’clock at night. Who goes to bed at nine o’clock at night? I mean, besides your grandma.”

  She settled her head on his chest. “It’s been a long day.” She hadn’t slept much since the DNA from Barbara Landon’s clothes had come back inconclusive.

  “Hmmm,” he grunted in agreement as he wrapped
his arm around her shoulders and caressed her upper arm with his thumb. “Tell me about it.”

  Her mind replayed the evening as they lay in silence for several minutes. How troubled Landon had looked when he’d shown up at her house. How puzzled she still was by the fact that he didn’t seem to think he was good enough. The way that humbleness only made him more attractive. More human.

  “What are you thinking about?” Landon’s deep voice rumbled in his chest next to her ear.

  She hesitated. Yes, she’d slept with the guy. Twice. But was his relationship with his father any of her business? Might it be her business someday?

  She’d always felt like it was everyone’s responsibility to make other people feel better about themselves. To take every opportunity to share a kindness in the world.

  “I’m glad you came to me tonight.” She waited for a response, but none came, so she continued. “I know it really bothers you about your dad.”

  Still no response. Was this conversation too deep for him? Too deep for this situation? But, again, she wanted him to know what a wonderful man he was. “I really want you to understand . . . you’re not whatever your dad thinks of you.” She rose to look at him. “Whatever you’ve made of yourself—and that’s a lot—you’ve made on your own. Not because of him.”

  A sadness spread through his green eyes. “That isn’t why I came here tonight.”

  Gina didn’t believe that. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that Landon would have come to her apartment if he hadn’t had the run-in with his father. Yes, she was glad they’d shared tonight, but she knew that something else had driven him to her.

  “I wish you’d stop waiting for him.”

  His mouth tipped into a teasing grin. “Are you going to psychoanalyze me every time we sleep together?”

  Her heart skipped a few beats, but she tried to be coy. “You’re pretty cocky, thinking you get to sleep with me again.”