The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 5

by Nora Roberts

  Best, she decided, to think of it as an out-of-town exception. Just something that happened. She was, after all, a mature, sophisticated, and experienced woman.

  All she had to do was ignore that the sex had been incredible, both times. That he had a way of making her feel as if she were the only woman who existed. And that it wasn’t just her hormones losing the battle, but her heart.

  No, she had to remember she was older and wiser, and it was up to her to put things right.

  “Farley, we need to talk about this. We need to understand that when we get back, this isn’t going to happen again.”

  He linked his fingers with hers, brought them to his lips. Rubbed them there. “Well now, Tansy, I guess I need to be honest and tell you I’m going to do what I can to see it does. I’ve had a lot of good things happen to me, but being with you? It’s the best.”

  She made herself sit up, cautiously bringing the sheet with her so he didn’t get any ideas. “We don’t exactly work together, but you do volunteer at the refuge. Lil’s my closest friend.”

  “That’s all true.” He sat up, too, his eyes quiet on her face. “But what’s that got to do with me being in love with you?”

  “Oh. Love. Don’t say love.” Panic ticked at the back of her throat.

  “But I do love you.” Reaching out, he brushed his hand over her hair. “And I know you have feelings for me.”

  “Of course I do. We wouldn’t be here, like this, if I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “I think they’re strong feelings.”

  “All right, yes. I’ll cop to that. But Farley, let’s be realistic. I’m several years older than you are. We’re in different decades, for God’s sake.”

  “In a few years we’ll be in the same decade for a while.” Amusement showed clearly on his face. “But I don’t want to wait that long to be with you.”

  On a huff of breath, she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. “Farley, look at me. I’m a thirty-year-old black woman.”

  He cocked his head, studied her as she’d asked. “More caramel. Jenna makes these caramel apples in the fall. They’re all golden brown and sweet on the outside, and just a little tart in. I love those caramel apples. I love the color of your skin, Tansy, but the color of your skin’s not why I love you.”

  It made her shiver. It made her weak. Not just the words, but the look of him when he said them.

  “You’re smarter than me.”

  “No, Farley.”

  “Sure you are. It was the smarter that made me nervous around you for a while. Too nervous to ask you to come out with me. I like that you’re smart, and how sometimes you and Lil will get talking about things and I can’t understand the half of it. Then I thought, Well hell, it’s not like I’m stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid,” she murmured, undone by him. “Not anywhere near stupid. You’re steady and clever and kind. If things were different—”

  “Some things you can’t change.” He took her hand again, so the contrasting tones showed in the light. “And some things, Tansy, make the different not mean one damn. Like this.”

  He drew her to him, laid his lips on hers, and showed her.

  IT FELT STRANGE knowing people with guns patrolled the edges of her compound. Strange even, at her own insistence, knowing she was one of them. Her animals prowled and called. The night was their time. And more, the scent of man, the glow of the lights kept them stirred up.

  She spent more time with Baby, to his obvious delight, and the love in his eyes when he looked at her steadied her nerves. When she stood or paced or drank yet another mug of coffee, she outlined long- and short-range plans to keep her mind occupied and off the reason she stood and paced and drank yet another mug of coffee.

  They would get through this, and that was that as far as she was concerned. If the person causing the trouble was this Ethan Howe, they’d find him, and they’d stop him.

  She remembered him a little better now. She’d had to go back, look up Carolyn’s files, refresh herself on the reports and data in order to get a clear picture of the student. But once she had, she’d been able to reform one of the men who’d come around a few times to lend a hand, to flirt with Carolyn.

  Above average height, she thought, slim build, strong back. Nothing special about him that she could recall. Not a lot to say, other than his claim to be descended not just from any warrior but from Crazy Horse himself.

  Lil remembered being mildly amused by his insistence on that, and largely dismissing it, and him. She didn’t think she and this Ethan had exchanged over two dozen words. Still, hadn’t most of them had to do with the land, the sanctity of it, and their duty to honor it because of their bloodline?

  She’d dismissed that, too, had considered him just another harmless oddball. But she remembered now that she’d felt him watching her. Or did she remember that because of hindsight, because of nerves? Was she projecting?

  Maybe Tansy would remember him more clearly.

  And maybe he had nothing to do with what was happening. But Coop’s instincts said he did. She trusted those instincts. Whatever problems they had with their personal lives, she trusted Coop’s instincts absolutely.

  That, she supposed, was also a matter of her own instincts.

  She shifted her stance, rolled her shoulders, as they wanted to stiffen up from her stint in the cold. At least the overcast sky kept some of the heat in, she mused. But she’d have preferred the stars and the moon.

  In the harsh glow of the emergency lights, she watched Gull head in her direction. He gave her a wide salute. She expected the gesture was a precaution, to make certain she recognized him.

  “Hey there, Gull.”

  “Lil. Coop said I should take over for you here.”

  “I’m grateful, Gull, for what you’re doing.”

  “You’d do the same for me. Never been out here at night like this.” He scanned the habitats. “It’s kind of cool, I guess. Doesn’t look like those animals are getting much sleep.”

  “They’re nocturnal. And they’re curious what all the people are doing out here in the dark. Losing sleep and drinking too much coffee mostly. He’s not coming back around here tonight.”

  “Maybe he’s not because all these people are out here losing sleep and drinking too much coffee.”

  “That’s a good point.”

  “Go on, get inside, Lil. I’ve got this now. Unless you want to wander over and visit with Jesse. Like old times.”

  She gave him a light punch in the arm. “I don’t think Rae would like that,” she said, referring to her old sort-of boyfriend’s wife.

  “What happens at the refuge,” Gull deadpanned, “stays at the refuge.”

  She headed back, chuckling. She saw others moving toward their trucks or cars as friends and neighbors came to stand in their places. Voices carried, so she heard jokes, sleepy laughs, calls of good night.

  She quickened her pace when she spotted her parents. “You said you were going to use the cabin and get some sleep,” she said to her mother.

  “I said that so you’d stop nagging me. Now I’m going home to get some sleep. You do the same.” She gave Lil a pat on the cheek with a gloved hand. “I know this is a bad reason, but it’s good to see people come out to help this way. Take me home, Joe. I’m tired.”

  “You get some sleep.” Joe tapped a finger on Lil’s nose. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  No doubt about that, Lil thought as they separated. They’d keep close tabs on her until this was resolved. It’s the way they worked. And if the situation were reversed, it would be the way she’d work.

  Inside, she stowed her rifle, then peeled off her outdoor gear. She glanced at the steps, thought about bed. Too restless, she decided. Too much coffee in the bloodstream.

  She set a fire in the hearth, got it going. If Coop didn’t want one, he could bank it down. But at least it added more warmth and cheer to his temporary sleeping arrangements.

  She wandered ba
ck to the kitchen, thought about making some tea. And decided she was too impatient to wait for the water to boil. Instead she poured half a glass of wine, hoping it would counteract the caffeine.

  She could work, she considered. She could spend an hour at the computer until the edge wore off. But the idea of sitting still didn’t appeal either.

  Then she heard the front door open and knew she’d been waiting for that. For him.

  When she came back into the living room he was sitting down, pulling off his boots. He looked, she thought, alert, awake, his eyes clear as they met hers.

  “I figured you’d be upstairs by now.”

  “Too much coffee.”

  He made a vague sound of agreement, and took off the second boot.

  “Maybe I’m feeling as restless as the animals. I’m not used to having people around this time of night either. I can’t settle.” She walked to the window, stared out.

  “I’d suggest a couple hands of gin rummy, but I’m not in the mood.”

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “And I’m in your way. I could try solitaire.”

  “You could also try turning off the lights and closing your eyes.”

  “That would be the sensible thing.” She swallowed the last of the wine, set the glass aside. “I’ll go up, let you get some sleep.” She started toward the stairs, stopped, turned back. He hadn’t moved. “What if I want sex on the table?”

  “You want to have sex on the table?”

  “You said sex was off the table. Maybe I want it back on. Maybe I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. You’re here; I’m here. We’re friends. That’s established, right? We’re friends.”

  “We always were.”

  “So that’s all it is. Friends, and not being alone. Giving each other something to take the edge off.”

  “Reasonable. Maybe I’m too tired.”

  Her lips curved. “Like hell.”

  “Maybe I’m not.”

  But he stayed where he was, watching her. Waiting.

  “You said you wouldn’t touch me. I’m asking you to set that rule or provision, or however you think of it, aside. Come up with me, come to bed with me, stay with me. I need to shut my mind off, Coop, that’s the God’s truth. I need some peace of mind. A few hours of it. Do me a favor.”

  He stepped to her. “Doing you a favor’s standing out in the cold until two in the morning. Taking you to bed?” He reached up, ran his hand down her braid. “Doesn’t qualify. Don’t tell me you need peace of mind, Lil. Tell me you want me.”

  “I do. I do want you. I’ll probably regret it tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be too late.” He pulled her in, captured her mouth with his. “It’s already too late.”

  He turned toward the steps, then gripped her hips, boosting her up so she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

  Maybe it had always been too late, she thought as he carted her upstairs, and she let her lips roam his face as she had once, long before. Back in time, the familiar. Like closing a circle, she told herself. It didn’t have to be any more than that.

  She pressed her cheek to his, sighed. “Feel better already.”

  At the bedroom he turned, pressing her back to the door. And those eyes, the ice blue that had always snagged her heart, caught hers. “A hot bath makes you feel better. This is more, Lil. We’ll both have to deal with that.”

  When his mouth took hers it wasn’t for comfort, or to soothe, but to ignite. So that slow simmer, never fully banked, came roaring back to full, furious flame.

  Peace of mind? Had she thought she would find peace here, with him? There would be no peace with the war raging between them, inside her. Engulfed, she gave herself to it, and to him.

  Maybe this time the battle would be done, and that constant flame inside her finally, finally burned out.

  The need rose up, riding along her skin, filling her breasts, her belly with heat. Familiar, perhaps. But more and less than what had been. Had his hands been so sure, his mouth so urgent?

  She was still wound around him when he strode to the bed. The lights from the compound slanted through the slats of her blinds, thin bars of light that fell over the bed, over her when he set her on the edge. A kind of cage, she supposed. Well, she walked into it willingly.

  He gripped her boot, tugged. She heard herself laugh, nervous joy, as he pulled off the other. Then he reached down to unbutton her flannel shirt.

  “Unbraid your hair.” He drew the shirt off. “Please.”

  She lifted her arms, slid the tie at the end of her braid onto her wrist out of habit, and loosened her braid as he took off his shirt.

  “No, I’ll do that,” he said as she started to comb her fingers through her hair.

  “I’d think about your hair, the way it feels and smells, the way it looks after I’ve had my hands in it. All that midnight hair.”

  He wrapped her hair around his fist, tugged so that her face tipped up to his. The gesture, the flare of heat in his eyes spoke as much of temper as passion. “I’d see you when you weren’t there. Like a damn ghost. A glimpse in a crowd, a tease out of the corner of my eye, disappearing around a corner. You were everywhere.”

  She started to shake her head, but he tightened his grip. For an instant she saw that anger flash, then he released her hair. “Now you’re here,” he said, and drew the thermal shirt over her head.

  “I’ve been here.”

  No, he thought. No. But she was here now. Aroused, a little annoyed, just as he was. To please himself, to pleasure her, he traced his fingers down her collarbone, over the subtle swell of her breasts. The girl he’d known had been a willow stem. She’d bloomed without him.

  She shivered at his touch; he’d wanted her to.

  Then he pressed the heel of his hand to her forehead, gave her a light shove onto her back. And made her laugh again.

  “Mr. Smooth,” she said, then he was on her, his body pressing her into the mattress. “You’ve put on a few pounds.”

  “You too.”

  “Really?”

  “In interesting places.”

  She smiled a little, and combed her fingers through his hair as he had with hers. “Well, it’s been a while.”

  “I think I remember how everything works. How you work.”

  He brushed his lips to hers, a teasing, then a sinking, sinking until it was drowning deep. His hands were on her, reminding her what it had been, confusing her with what it was now.

  Strong, hard, working hands, sliding over her, pressing, molding until her breath quickened, until past and present were one brilliant blur over her senses.

  He flipped open her bra, tugged it aside, and had her—hands and mouth, teeth and tongue—so quickened breaths became gasps, gasps became moans. She dragged at his thermal, yanking it up and away, impatient now to feel him. Strong back, ridges of muscle. New and fascinating.

  He’d been a boy, just a boy really, when last she’d touched him like this. It was a man under her hands now, a man whose body pressed down on hers.

  In the dark, barred with light, they rediscovered each other. A curve, an angle, a new point of pleasure. Her fingers skimmed over a scar that hadn’t been there before. And she whispered his name as his lips raced frantically down her body.

  She quivered when he unbuttoned her jeans, hitched her hips up to help him pull them away. Rolled with him over the bed as they hurried to strip off every barrier.

  Outside one of the cats called out, a wild thing prowling the dark. He took her there, into the dark, and what was wild in her cried out, released in harsh and primitive pleasure.

  She moved for him, and with him, her eyes a gleam in the shadows. Everything he’d found and lost, everything he’d lived without was here. Right here. His senses swam with her, a rush of woman, all scent and skin, all wet and warm. The beat of her heart against his hungry mouth, the slide of her skin under his desperate hands.

  He pushed her over, felt her rise and break
, then gather again.

  His name. She said his name over and over.

  His name when he drove into her. He held, held himself on that whippy edge, filled and surrounded, entrapped until they were both trembling. Then it was all movement, mad, mindless. And when she broke again, he shattered with her.

  She wanted to curl up against him, just fit her body against his like two pieces of a puzzle. Instead she lay quiet, willing herself to hold on to the pleasure, and the peace that had finally come with it.

  She could sleep. If she closed her eyes, let her mind shut down, she could sleep. Whatever needed to be said or dealt with could be said or dealt with in the morning.

  “You’re cold.”

  Was she?

  Before her brain could connect with her body he’d shifted her up and over. When had he packed on all the muscle? she wondered. He tugged the sheet and comforter over her, then drew her against him.

  She started to stiffen—to ease away, a little at least. Didn’t she need some room, some sort of distance? But he held her there, curled her in exactly where she’d wanted to be.

  “Go to sleep,” he said.

  And too tired, too undone, to argue, she did just that.

  SHE WOKE BEFORE SUNRISE, stayed very still. His arms had stayed around her, and hers had gone around him in the brief hours of the night.

  Why, she wondered, did something that basic, that human, break her heart?

  Comfort, she reminded herself. In the end, he’d given her the comfort she’d needed. And maybe she’d given him some in return.

  It didn’t have to be more than that.

  She’d loved him all of her life, and there was no point in trying to convince herself that would ever change. But sex was just an elemental act, and in their case a kind of gift between friends.

  Single, consenting, healthy adult friends.

  She was strong, smart, and self-aware enough to accept that—and keep it that way. The first step, she thought, was to untangle herself from him and get out of bed.

  She started to ease away, as cautiously as she might if she’d been wrapped around a sleeping cobra. She’d barely gained an inch when his eyes opened and beamed straight into hers.