“You had to know they’d talk about anything we do.”
“After tonight, what they say about us won’t matter anyway.” She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. The hungry hounds of gossip weren’t easily appeased, and the thought of tomorrow’s gossip headlines almost had her cringing. Mouthy Mildred’s Hot Topic List would read: Local Playboy Seduces Innocent Neighbor Girl. She could see poor Rose as her complexion paled, and she tried to explain how it was all just gossip. Good luck, Grandma.
McCrea looped a loose strand of her hair around his finger and gently tugged. “What happened to the little girl in pigtails, and braces that used to chase me around the barnyard?”
Oh, she’s still chasing you. “She grew up,” she whispered, because it was too early to admit the truth.
His finger traced her jawline, and ventured down her neck to her collar bone which gave her body an involuntary shiver. “She sure did.” The depths of his eyes reflected a new fascination for the woman he saw in her.
The break of his lips and the slant of his head let her know another kiss was coming, and she didn’t care who saw it. The touch of his lips fueled her hunger for something more, and the teasing war with his tongue drove her closer to the sweet release she craved. She was in the hands of a capable lover, one who could tease her all night. He was five years her senior and experienced in a way that made him threatening to any woman who wanted to risk her heart for more than one night in his bed.
What would that be like? Her imagination dove deeper into a torrid scene of his body entwined with hers. She knew McCrea wasn’t the teasing and leaving kind, and the scene in her head would happen if she didn’t stop it. He wanted satisfaction just as much as she did, and his dates didn’t end with goodnight kisses. Sweet Lord! What am I doing?
She broke the kiss. “McCrea.” His name was all she could manage.
The teasing specks of gold in his eyes were replaced by black pools of desire. His fingers gripped her hips and gently pushed her back so he could slide from the stool. “Give me my keys, Ed. We’re leaving.”
Ed eyed the two of them. “Like hell, I will,” he said and turned back to the men on the opposite side of the bar.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace private,” he tipped her lips with a soft kiss. “I want you all to myself.”
Panic pushed a hand into his chest. “Wait.”
“Why? Are you having second thoughts?”
“No. Yes,” she stuttered.
“Which is it?”
“I just thought,” she closed her eyes, confused by what she should say.
“What did you think?” Something edgy was in his eyes. An emotion she hadn’t seen before. Anger? Frustration? She couldn’t tell.
“That things would move slower.” She couldn’t hold her weak smile. “I wanted to get your attention.”
“You got it.” She loved the husky sound of his voice.
“I can’t do this…” her voice broke into a deep breath, and she hated herself for what she was about to say.
“What can’t you do?”
“I can’t do more than goodnight kisses.” With a flushed face and a racing heart, she stepped back. “I’m not Vanessa.”
He caught her arm and gently eased her closer. “I don’t want you to be. Trust me, Eleanor.” His tender kiss soothed her second thoughts. “Tonight will be more than anything you could hope for.”
More than anything she could hope for? “What does that mean?”
“Trust me.” He repeated and thumped the bar with his fist. “Ed! Give me my keys, now!”
This time, Old Ed wasn’t so easy about the order. He pointed a finger at McCrea. “Listen here, Son. I’m not about to let you drive out of here drunk,” he tossed the finger in Eleanor’s direction, and she knew her boss’ protective side was about to rear its ugly head. “And I’m sure as hell not letting you drive out of here with this little gal in the truck with you.” Something about the way Old Ed said it made her think he wasn’t happy about her leaving with McCrea, drunk or not.
McCrea’s face changed into the hardness she’d seen the night he punched Willard, but Old Ed didn’t care and showed his lack of concern by flipping the television to a different station.
“How the fuck am I supposed to get home?” McCrea yelled back, and rather than see him make a fool of himself, she quickly jumped in with her offer.
“I’ll take you home in my truck.”
McCrea hammered another hard fist to the counter to get Old Ed’s attention. “I’m not leaving here without mine.”
A sharp glance from her boss made her cut in before he could answer. “I’ll drive him home, Ed.”
The veteran bartender who always took it upon himself to keep watch over her, eyed her carefully. “Are you sure you can handle this ugly cow chaser, honey?”
His gentle question caused her to smile. “I’m sure.”
With a deep frown, he slid the keys across the bar to her, and explained the policy she knew by heart. “I made all of ‘em give me their keys before the first drink.” He pointed to Jess, who sat a few seats away. “I cut these two off a half an hour ago. Then,” he pointed to McCrea with a scathing look, “this one started a fight!”
She grabbed the keys before McCrea could take them. “Thanks, Ed. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back later for my truck.”
“It’ll be here, honey. Just be careful.” His finger took another aim at McCrea. “And son, you’d better mind your manners.”
McCrea latched onto her elbow, and practically pushed her towards the small entryway at the front of the bar. “Let’s go.” His tone and grip made her wonder if the moment of desire between them could be rekindled. It could on her part. Her body was humming in all the naughty places it had before the exchange of words between him and Old Ed.
“Why are you in such a hurry?”
As they made the dark space of the entryway, McCrea hauled her into a corner, and the hard edges of his body pinned her against the wall, causing an involuntary arch of her body. His palm to the wall, throaty groan stirred her crux, and she knew his desire hadn’t diminished either. “I’m in a hurry to have you all to myself.”
God, she was hungry too! Her hormones had been pin balling from high to low since her close encounter with him in the barnyard, and his teasing foreplay was killing her.
The soft orange glow of the flashing “Open” sign in the window gave her a glimpse of his smile as he made a grab for the keys. She twisted her hand free and dangled them in front of his face. “Don’t think you’re going to sweet talk me out of these.”
His arm fell, and he followed her to the door. “Keys are the last thing I want to talk you out of, darlin’.”
Outside, she trotted backward with a grin. “Oh, really?”
She knew she was playing with fire, but she didn’t care. She wanted more than goodnight kisses from McCrea. “Get your ass in that driver’s seat before I take another kiss and the keys.”
A light rain began to fall, cooling the hot August air. Her sweaty skin, wet from McCrea’s touch almost sizzled when the rain hit it. Once on the driver’s side, she took a moment to fan her face and draw in a deep breath. As she exhaled, she hit the unlock button on the remote and climbed inside his truck. Unlike the ranch truck, the new leather in his smelled rich and felt wonderful beneath her legs. Her hands caressed the steering wheel. “Boy, this is something,” she said when he climbed in and slammed the door.
She watched him take off his hat, toss it onto the dash, and rest an arm on the back of the seat. “Just be careful. It’s got a lot of power.”
“Oh, please. Why do men think women can’t handle a truck?” She heard him laugh as she turned the ignition. She scooted the seat forward so she could reach the pedals, and took off her jacket. “Buckle up,” she said while fastening her own.
He leaned back in the seat, his fingers tapping impatiently against his leg. “Seat belts are too constricting. I don’t like be
ing tied down.”
She cracked her window, and drew in a deep breath and savored the sweet night air. The rain seemed to intensify all the sounds and smells that made Santa Camino home. Fireflies twinkled under the trees, and the soft sound of crickets filled the air. “Suit yourself.”
She switched on the lights and searched for the wipers. “Where are the wipers?”
He reached across the seat to turn on the switch, and brush her breasts with his arm. “Right here.”
Her nipples pearled. “Thanks,” she breathed out.
He straightened and gently tapped her forehead with his finger. “What’s going on in there?”
A knockdown, drag-out fight between this excruciating ache in my body and common sense. She managed a smile. “Nothing.”
The corners of his mouth tilted up at one side. “You’re not a very good liar are you, Eleanor?”
“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”
To deepen her torment, he placed a hand on the seat between her thighs and kept his eyes locked with hers as he lowered himself.
Her mind malfunctioned, fizzling out all rational thought, and her lungs ceased to work. She couldn’t have taken a breath if her life had depended on it. It was like drowning in fire.
“Eleanor is a beautiful name,” he said softly and laid his head against her thigh. “For a beautiful lady.”
God! What is he doing? She was sure she might die from the heat of his hand which was only inches from her crotch. The stubble on his jaw bit into her bare skin, roughly stimulating her already heightened arousal. With his free hand, he felt under the seat and pulled out a brown bag. He raised to pause briefly at her lips.
The humor on his sexy face told her he was loving every minute of her sexual torture.
Adjusting her seat belt gave her something to do and allowed her a second or two to find her voice. “I think it sounds old and boring. El sounds sexy and sophisticated.”
“Jess tell you that?” His jaw ground together after the question.
“No, why would you say that?”
“He’s the one who gave you the nickname, and it sounds like something he’d say.” He ripped the bag open, smiled as if he were greeting an old friend he hadn’t seen in years, and twisted the cap off a new bottle of Jim Beam. “Come to Papa.”
She watched him take a long drink of the hard stuff. “Thirsty?”
“Maybe.” He downed two more swallows that ended with a grimace. “Does it bother you?”
“A little,” she answered honestly. “The last time I saw you chug JB was when you and Wade argued about college.”
He let his head fall against the rest. “Same argument. Different demands.”
“What?”
He raised for another chug. “Nothing. Drive and let me take care of my problems my way.”
This wasn’t part of his usual repartee. His tone warned her to stay clear of something he considered none of her business. Something, she guessed stemmed from his conversation with Wade earlier today. Still his harshness hurt her. “So much for trying to help.”
A deep sigh turned his head towards her. “I was rude, wasn’t I?”
“A little.” Whiskey consoled silently without questions or judgment. “Look, I get it. I really do. You don’t want to be a rancher or follow in Wade’s footsteps.”
He rested the bottle on his thigh. “My problem goes beyond that argument.”
“You have a great life and more money─.”
“Don’t be naive.” He took another drink and settled lower in the seat. “Just because I have money doesn’t mean I don’t have problems.”
“I realize that, but you have a family who loves you. Wade loves you, and though you might not see it now, he has your best interests in mind.”
He watched her for more seconds than she was comfortable with. “How long were you outside the study door?”
“Not long, why?”
“We were shouting after you left. Did you hear any of it?”
“No.” Her lips twisted into a sheepish grin. “My mind was on my date.”
A shake of his head made her feel childish. “Of course, it was.”
“I’m listening now. Talk to me. Tell me about your problem,” she urged him. “You have my full attention.”
He wrestled a deep sigh. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“And the whiskey does?”
Contrite eyes drifted down to the bottle in his hand. “Something like that.”
“This must be a doozy of a problem. Are you going to be okay?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” The edge of his top lip turned up. “After all, I’m rich.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant, and I appreciate your willingness to listen.” He recapped the bottle, sat it on the floorboard and gave her a wink. “But I don’t want to spend the night talking about my problems.” He yanked the visor down and let a small box drop into his other hand. “I have something for you.”
She was surprised. “For me?”
His mood lightened as he presented her gift. “For you.”
“You bought me a present? Why?”
“I didn’t buy it.” He opened the green felt box. “It’s not a big deal. I just saw it and thought of you.”
“A coin?”
He lifted it from the box and looped the chain around his finger. The dingy coin swung back and forth. “I found it at the Mission a few weeks ago.”
“It’s from Vera la Luz?”
“I dug it out of the ground myself.”
She caught the coin to get a better look. To construct the necklace without damaging the coin, he had crudely wound a piece of thin wire around the circumference and twisted a loop at the top to hold the chain. “Is it gold?”
“Yeah, it’s gold. I didn’t have time to get it polished, but we can do that later.”
She clasped it tight. “No way. I like it just the way it is.”
His hand brushed against her hip as he released the buckle of her seatbelt, and unclasped the chain. “Turn aound.”
She gathered her damp hair to one side and slid around in the seat with her back to him. “I thought the gold was just a story.”
He moved closer to drape the chain over her head, and fastened it in place. “There is always some truth to a legend. Remember the story Dad told us?” he whispered into her ear, and ran his hands down her bare arms.
“I couldn’t wait to see the Vera la Luz Mission. All the kids at school talked about how haunted it was. I was terrified, but so excited,” much like she was right now. “That was my first camping trip, and Mr. C tried so hard to make me feel like I was part of the family.”
“You are a part of my family,” his voice was tender. “Haven’t you realized that yet?”
“I always feel like I’m in the way. Like today in the study.”
“You’re never in the way,” he said. “I was just upset.”
“About what?” she tried again to make him open up, but he was evasive.
“Nothing I can’t fix.”
She caressed the coin. “Do you think there’s more gold up there?”
“Maybe,” with a raspy voice against her ear, he spoke of the ghost story from their childhood. “the Wayfires are real. Maybe the gold is protected by the spirits of my Comanche ancestors.”
She felt herself melting into his arms. His hands branded her with a fire only he could extinguish.
Loud laughter erupted from a group of men exiting the bar. “Shit.”
She scooted back into the driver’s seat. “It’s beautiful, McCrea.”
That pleased him. “You like it?”
It wasn’t beautiful nor fancy, but to Eleanor, it was priceless. “I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“We can go back to dig for more, and spend all weekend there if you like.”
Just you and me under the stars. Her eyes fell to his lips. How many times had she dreamed
about those sexy lips kissing every inch of her body? How many times had she dreamed of giving herself to a man she had loved and wanted for years? Would that night be tonight or the night after? Would it be in a bed with sheets or in a sleeping bag under the stars?
The particulars of when and where didn’t matter. All that did matter was that they wanted each other. Tonight was the start of something wonderful between them. “You really think there’s more?”
“I suppose anything is possible, but if there is, I want to know how it got there.” He reclaimed the bottle from the floorboard. “There are always more questions than answers whenever it comes to the Legend of the Wayfires Gold.”
That much she knew. McCrea and others had spent years digging, and researching the legend without any answers to show for their work. “But now we have proof.” She loved talking about the romantic legends of Santa Camino.
“I’ve found pottery shards and arrowheads. I’ve thought about calling one of the universities to see if they’d be interested in doing a dig. There is so much we could learn about it.” With a deep sigh, he laid his head against the rest and looked westwards towards Promise Point to where the mission lay in ruins. His passion for history was one of the things she loved about him. McCrea was an educated man, knowledgeable and worldly about so many things. He was also a conundrum. A puzzle as complex as the mystery he sought to solve, but he was real. A flesh and blood man, not a ghostly apparition.
“I wonder what it was like back then.” She followed his eyes to the Point, and allowed herself to get lost in the romance of the past. “When the West was wild.”
“Texas was a wild and dangerous place,” he agreed.
“And romantic.” She knew there was a dreamy look in her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. Though her view on marriage was tainted by her mother’s failed one, she was a hopeless romantic. Rose’s influence, no doubt.
His head rolled across the rest to look at her. “Romantic?”
“Yeah, the old west was romantic.” She slapped his thigh and smiled before she put the truck into reverse to back out. “Don’t you think so?”
He shot her a doubtful look. “No, I don’t.”
Out on the main highway, she held tight to the steering wheel and focused on the passing cars. The size of the truck was more than she was used to. Her grandma’s old truck was half the size of this one. “Why not?”
Goodnight Kisses Page 7
