by Candis Terry
Mornings after always came with regret.
New Year’s Day? No different.
Beyond a break in the curtains, sunrise lifted its head above the earth. Emma awoke on cool sheets, wrapped in a pair of strong arms, with her back pressed against a warm chest. Her butt was nestled against a sizeable part of Dean Silverthorne that, judging by the firmness, probably woke way before his eyes even opened.
She flicked her gaze across the shadows to the elegant bedroom decorated with rich furniture in a timeless design. Silk draperies framed a set of French doors, and against the far wall the last burning embers danced up into the chimney of a river-rock fireplace. She glanced at the door, tried to remember where she’d left her clothes, then tried not to groan. After several mind-bending orgasms in the hot springs alone, she hadn’t been coherent enough to pull them from the corral fence and bring them into the house. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks when she vaguely recalled walking down the snow-covered path to the house, wearing nothing but the arm of the man who’d given her those multiple orgasms. If she could just sneak—
“Don’t even think about it.”
Shoot.
Dean turned her on her back, leaned over her, and looked down into her face. “No regrets, Emma.”
“Easy for you to say.” She looked up into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. “I’m sure you’re used to waking up in strange beds.”
“Actually, I’ve never woken up in a strange bed.”
“Am I supposed to believe that?”
“What?” His dark brows tipped together in a frown. “Doubt from a woman who trusted me enough last night to have unprotected sex?”
They’d had unprotected sex once. The other times he’d been covered.
When she flinched, he drew her deeper into his embrace. “We all have our moments of insanity,” she said.
“True.” He kissed the side of her neck. “And I’m so glad you decided to have yours with me. But let’s move forward, shall we?”
“I’m not sure where to go from here.”
“We could grab a bite to eat, then head back into the hot springs with a couple mugs of coffee.”
And let him see every single imperfection in stark sunlight? No way. “I might be crazy enough to skinny-dip in the dark, but there’s no way you’d get me back out there in broad daylight.”
“I promise not to stare.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“But I might drool.” He chuckled when both of her eyebrows shot upward. “Come on, I’m not that bad of a guy. I’d probably only drool a little. You’d hardly even notice.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she said, trying to scoot out from beneath him. “Not fishing for compliments here but I’m sure I’m not the type of woman you usually find in your bed.”
His serious green gaze stared down at her and searched her face. “The tabloids put it all out there so I won’t bother to lie. Yes, I’ve been with my share of supermodels. And yes, they are very beautiful. But I have never woken in my own bed with my arms wrapped around a single one. You’re my first, Emma. In many ways.”
Now why did he have to go looking all sincere?
“I don’t do this,” she protested. “I don’t have sex with random men and wake up in their beds.”
“I know you don’t, honey.” His long fingers brushed her hair away from her temple. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want you to have regrets about last night.”
Either he was a very good liar or he was honest as hell. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to decide which. He’d always been the handsome and successful hometown hero who lived a charmed life most people couldn’t even fathom. And last night, it had only taken a few paper cups of cheap champagne and one sappy idea for her to jump onto his lap. Ugh. Where had been her self-control?
She’d had sex with the man three—no, make that four times last night. And once more very early this morning before the sun even rose over the snow-covered mountain tops.
So what did that say about her? She didn’t like him but she liked his body?
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Okay, so maybe she liked him a little.
Then he gave her that smile. The one she’d seen in a hundred post-game interviews. The one she’d seen grace the covers of magazines. The last place she’d ever expected to see that half good-old-boy, half man-of-the-world expression was in bed next to her on the very first holiday of the year.
Good God, what did that mean for the remaining twelve months?
Several hours later, after soothing Emma’s obvious misgivings and making love to her one more time, Dean woke to find the sheets next to him cold and empty. He laid there for a few minutes and waited for her to come back. When she continued to be a no-show, he got out of bed. He shoved his legs into his jeans and went in search of the woman who confused and intrigued him more than a change of signals on game day. He rambled through the big house, checking the kitchen, the bathrooms, the media room. No Emma. He finally looked out back toward the corrals. Her clothes were gone and so was her little Subaru.
Damn.
He thought he’d gained an ounce of trust with her over the past ten hours, but apparently it would take a lot more than holding her in his arms or giving her multiple orgasms. He looked out the window, over the wide expanse of forest and meadow that now belonged to him, and wanted to slap himself in the forehead.
Of course it would take more than that with Emma.
The women he dated were bright and beautiful. But he’d never connected with any of them on an emotional level. Something about Emma rang a different bell.
After a quick shower, he dressed in whatever clothes he could find, grabbed his keys, and was out the door in less time than it took to huddle his team. He backed his mother’s bomber out of the garage and sped toward town. With one small detour, he turned up the radio and headed straight for Spotted Fawn Avenue. From the crackling speakers Tom Jones sang a whoa-ho-ho, and Dean waited for the inevitable.
“You’re whistling.”
Ah, and there she was. Dean smiled. No matter how much he thought he had it together, the persistent appearance of his dead mother proved he was never too far from a dance with the dark and crazy side. “Am I?”
“Happy about something?”
“The sun is shining,” he said, keeping the car on the road. No need anymore to turn around to check who was in the seat behind him. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“Sleep well?”
“Didn’t sleep much at all.”
Icy air swirled through the interior of the car. “Oh, do tell,” she said, her voice much closer now. “What had you up all night?”
“How much do you follow me around?”
“Oh, not at all. I’m not allowed to be a Peeping Tom. Somebody takes all the fun out of the ability to pop about without getting caught. What do you think all those ghost shows are about?”
He chuckled. “You sound disappointed.”
“You bet I am. I didn’t know there’d be so many restrictions on the other side. But there are definite rules, and if you break them you have to answer to him.”
“God?”
“Don’t be silly. He’s too busy for mischief makers like me.”
“So who’s him? And where do you go when you’re not cruising around in the back seat of your piece-of-crap car?”
“I believe answering those questions would break rule number four. And since I’m still doing penance for breaking rule number three, I reserve the right to keep my big yap shut.”
Dean laughed. “I miss you, Mom.”
A sudden cold settled on his bad shoulder and eased the ache still throbbing from his nighttime activities. Not that he minded those activities.
“And I’m so glad you’re home,” his mother said. “Otherwise we’d miss the opportunity for these little visits.”
“You do realize I’ll have to leave soon, though. Right?”
“We’ll see. In t
he meantime, tell me what has you whistling like a meadowlark.”
Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see her glow in the bright sunlight, but he knew she’d be illuminating pink in about ten seconds. “I bought a house.”
“Thought you already had one in Houston.”
“I have a high-rise condo in Houston. I bought a house. Specifically I bought the Clear River Lodge.”
“Oh goodness, that’s a big one.” The excitement in her voice elevated several levels. But if I know you like I think I do, you’ve got some big plan in your head. Am I right?”
He loved the enthusiasm in her voice. She’d always been 100 percent behind him. He hoped she’d be just as on-board now. As he told her of his plans for the charity organization and camp, she remained silent. The longer he took to explain, the quieter she got. He wondered if maybe she wasn’t happy about his plans at all. Maybe she didn’t think he could pull it off. Or maybe she’d just popped out of there.
“You’re the one who taught me the importance of charity, Mom, so I’m naming it the Leticia Silverthorne Sunshine Camp.”
Still no response.
“So what do you think?”
A cool tingle materialized on his right cheek and he knew he’d just been granted a kiss.
A sigh whispered through the air.
“I think I have the most wonderful son in the world. And even though you’re this big rough-and-tough football player, I’m so glad you still listen to my advice.”
“Which was?”
“I told you to remember that life was about more than football. That you were about more than football.”
“Even when I’ve got one foot in the grave, football will still be a huge part of my life, Mom. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to pull this off. It’s a full-time commitment, and I’m already committed to a $48 million three-year contract with the Stallions.”
“That’s absurd.”
“With a $10 million signing bonus.”
“Whew! Hard to make that kind of cash at the Gas and Grub.”
“Pretty much.”
“You’ll work it out, Son. I’ve never known you to not get everything you wanted.”
He knew she meant well, but that was the biggest pile of crap he’d heard in a long time.
If he could have everything he wanted, his mother would still be alive instead of hanging out in ghost form in an old Buick. He’d never have been drilled into the turf on Thanksgiving Day. And right now he’d be warming up on the field, ready to kick his opponent’s ass.
Instead, he was about to bust down the door of the Sugar Shack.
When Dean rolled up in Emma’s driveway, he found her car parked by the garage. He grabbed the box on the seat beside him. Several long strides later he rang the doorbell. No answer. He pounded on the door. No answer. Now why did she want to go ignoring him? They’d had a great time last night. Hadn’t they?
He pounded harder and shouted, “Emma? I know you’re in there. Answer the door.”
Irene Evans, the woman who checked groceries at Gridley’s Market, which sold not only canned peas but firearms and fishing worms, stepped out of the house next door.
“Dean Silverthorne?” She squinted against the bright sunshine and planted her fists on her well-padded hips. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Evans.” Guilt rolled through him as though he’d just stolen a pack of Double Bubble.
“Why are you making such a fuss?” she asked.
“Um . . . Emma isn’t answering her door and I . . .” He held up the pastry box. Nice save, Silverthorne. “I brought her some muffins from the bakery.”
“Well, she’s in there. Saw her come home just a bit ago. Give her a few danged minutes. No sense pounding on the door like the dogs of hell are after ya. Some of us are hung over from the hoedown at the Grange last night.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Evans.”
As the neighbor disappeared back into her house, he lifted his knuckles to knock on Emma’s door again. The door creaked open. Half-hidden, Emma stood there with a plush pink towel wrapped around her shapely, flushed body and knotted right between her perfect breasts. Her blond hair hung in wet, wavy strands around her shoulders, and she smelled like a strawberry and peach parfait. His mouth watered. His fingers itched to toss aside the pastry box and unwind her from that towel so he could get his hands all over her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as though she hadn’t just been in his bed.
“I came to see why you ran off.” He held up the box. “And I brought you muffins.”
“The muffins are welcome.” Her perfectly arched brows pulled together as she reached for the pastry box. “You, I’m not so sure about.”
“Aw, come on.”
“Pouting doesn’t work well for you,” she said, then stepped away from the door. “But you can come in anyway.”
He walked through the doorway and was met by the glare of Oscar, the evil elf cat, sans costume, and a living room now void of Emma’s plethora of Christmas decorations. “Wow. You work fast. By Valentine’s Day we were all begging my mom to take down the Christmas stuff.” He closed the door behind him and watched her walk half-naked toward the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“Sure.” Mesmerized, he watched her towel-clad hips sway with each barefoot step she took.
She turned and caught him looking as she set the pastry box down on the counter. She lifted the lid on Kate’s double-chocolate-chip banana muffins and groaned. “Shoot. I was going to start a diet today.”
His gaze slid over the length of her body, from her pink painted toenails to the tops of her silky smooth shoulders. Why did women with curves always think they needed to diet? She was perfect. And soft. He didn’t think he’d ever touched a woman as soft as Emma. And while she worried about her weight, all he could think about was touching her again.
“Why would you want to do that?” She rolled her eyes as if he’d asked the most ridiculous question. “Come on, you’ll break Kate’s heart if you don’t at least taste one of her best sellers.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” With one hand she clutched the pink towel tight to her chest. With the other she handed a muffin to him, then she snatched one up for herself. Her teeth sank into the bread and her eyes rolled closed. “Mmmm.”
When her perfect lips came together in a smile, heat flooded his groin and all Dean wanted was to sink into her and stay there for a good, long time.
Emma set the half-eaten muffin down on a napkin on the counter and lifted her hand to wipe the crumbs from her mouth.
“I’ll take care of that.” Dean caught her arm, lifted her fingers to his mouth, and licked the crumbs away. Each stroke of his tongue brought back memories of the night before and the fireworks he’d introduced into their lovemaking.
“Mmmmm. You taste good, honey.” He tugged her against his wide chest and his thick arms surrounded her with firm muscles. The scent of soap on his skin and a hint of aftershave sent a tingle right through her middle to all her good parts. Damn him for always smelling so good.
He lowered his head and kissed each corner of her mouth.
She settled her palms on his chest. “I should probably get dressed.”
“Now that would be a real shame.” His big hands slid down her back, grabbed hold of the bottom of the towel, and yanked it away.
Before she could grab the towel and re-cover herself, it fluttered to the floor.
He grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her. Her body arched against him and a slow smile spread across his mouth. “That’s much better.”
He kissed her neck in the sensitive spot beneath her ear. A spray of effervescent bubbles shot up from her core and settled right in the center of her heart. His hot, moist mouth slipped down to the curve of her shoulder and his big hand covered her breast. He rolled her erect nipple back and forth between his thumb and finger. And she was gone, gone, gone.
“Merrrrooowww
.”
Startled, they both looked up to find Oscar in the doorway, watching them as though they were HD Kitty Porn TV.
“Pervert.” Without letting her go, Dean nudged the kitchen door closed with his foot and shut out her snoopy cat.
In that split second, common sense reeled back as bright sunshine flooded through the window. “Dean?” she said as he returned his mouth to that really sensitive spot just below her ear that sent tingles down to her hard nipples.
“Yeah, honey?” he muttered against her throat.
“I . . . uh . . .” Damn that felt amazing. “Don’t think this is a good idea.”
His head tilted slightly as he lifted her hand and held it to his heart. Beneath her fingertips she felt the quick rhythm skipping through his chest. Then he slid her hand lower and cupped her fingers over the bulge behind the zipper of his worn Levi’s.
“This is what you do to me, Emma. So right now, I’d sincerely appreciate it if you just wouldn’t think.” He gave her a smile ripe with promise. “Okay?”
“O-kay.”
Thinking really was overrated anyhow.
His big hands slid down her back to her bare bottom, grabbed hold, and lifted. She felt the flinch in his arm as he settled her on the counter and stepped between her thighs.
“Your shoulder—”
“Is fine.” His mouth slid from her throat down to her breast. He circled the erect nipple with his tongue, sucked it into his mouth, then lifted his head to look up at her. “But if you want, I’ll let you kiss it better.”
One part of her wished she could take away that pain and agony and disappointment. The other part of her knew that once his pain was gone, he’d be gone too.
She leaned forward and gently pressed her mouth to those places where a scalpel had sliced into his perfect, tan skin. As far as seductions went, she knew she could start at his shoulder. But eventually she’d want to work her way down.
All the way down.
His broad shoulders were smooth. Nice. But there were other parts of him intimately more impressive. She placed her palms on the sides of his face, kissed him on the mouth, then guided those magical lips right back to her breast. “Now where were you?”
