Canyon Shadows

by Vonna Harper

  “That’s part of your DNA.”

  She’d stopped caressing the back of his hand, and her fingers now rested on the veins there. Something both magical and deeply sexual flowed between them and made it difficult for him to continue. Seeking distraction, he studied the TV-watching man. An ad came on, but the stranger continued to stare at the oversized screen suspended from the ceiling.

  “Crystal needed to feel secure. She needed a safe roof over her head and to live in the right neighborhood. She seldom kept up with the news. When I asked her about it, she said she didn’t care about politics or foreign affairs, but it went beyond that. Eventually I figured out that bad news of any kind pushed past her comfort zone. Maybe because she was beautiful and delicate, I did everything I could to wrap her in a cocoon.”

  “That’s sad.”

  Yes, it is. “It was also an impossible task, one I didn’t have time for.”

  “That wasn’t your responsibility.”

  “I guess,” he muttered. “The second bid Jason and I put in was awarded the contract. We wound up completing an office complex ahead of time and under budget. Only the two of us had any idea how damn near impossible that was. Luckily it paid off because even when the economy went down, we had work. I was able to give Crystal that secure roof in that secure neighborhood and a new sports car to drive to work. Clothes.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  If she ever thought about changing careers, he’d tell her to become a shrink. “As if I was doing what a husband was supposed to. Unfortunately it came at a huge cost.”

  “Because Mustang Construction isn’t a nine-to-five job. Believe me, I know what that entails.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He wasn’t certain how it had happened, but her hand was now in his and they were touching from hip to knee and his equilibrium was shot to hell in a wonderful way.

  “How did it fall apart?” she asked.

  She still wanted to talk? “You want a complete list?”

  “No, just enough.”

  I owe you that. I’m not sure why but I do. “Things were already cracking in a big way between Crystal and me when Jason—he was going through some pretty serious personal stuff and not able to hold up his end of things.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  Yeah, she had what it took to be a shrink, all right. “I understood, God, did I. I never begrudged him the time he had to take away from the job, but it also meant even more hours away from Crystal for me.”

  “What was happening with Jason? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “His wife had cancer. She fought it for two years, but in the end ...”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. How hard it must have been for him to lose a young wife that way. You had to be very concerned for your brother.”

  “I was,” he admitted. “Jason broke down a few times when it was just the two of us. He talked to our folks, of course, but I think it was easier for him to be honest with me.”

  “So along with everything else, you had to be emotionally strong for Jason. You were drained.”

  He had been; he just hadn’t had time to see it back then.

  “Do you think Crystal understood that part?”

  “She couldn’t take it,” he ground out. “Filed for divorce.”

  Shari didn’t respond, which meant his words kept looping around him. Being handed those legal papers had been both a punch in the gut and a relief. The not-funny thing was, he’d been so swamped he hadn’t had time to look at the papers for almost twenty-four hours.

  “Do you ever see her?” she asked.

  “Not—the last time was about four months ago. I agreed to pay off the house and give it to her. We met at the title office.”

  “You were still trying to keep her in that cocoon.”

  “Yeah,” he reluctantly agreed. “She’s dating some guy in the investment business. Apparently he makes good money.”

  “Today. Who knows about tomorrow.”

  Shari was right, but although that would have concerned him back when he’d had feelings for Crystal, he now felt removed from her life.

  “Are you done eating?” he asked.

  “Yes. Are you done talking?”

  Because the corners of her mouth had lifted with her question, he accepted it as lighthearted. “More than. So what do I owe you for psychoanalyzing me?”

  “You paid for the pizza. That’s enough. I’ll follow you to your place.”

  Her suggestion made perfect sense, yet it bothered him. It was as if he’d picked her up and fed her in exchange for sex.

  Watching her stand up with the soft white dress draped loose and sweet around her, he shook off the unwanted thought. Shari Afton was the farthest thing from a hooker.

  As she led the way to the door, he wondered if she’d suspected that studying the way she moved would drive him crazy. The skirt hit at her knees, which afforded him a fabulous view of her calves and ankles to say nothing of her hips. He even noted that she was wearing low leather sandals.

  As she passed by where the lone man was still watching TV, he glanced at Shari. Maco was far enough behind that he could see the man’s profile. He wasn’t sure what to call the stranger’s expression. It wasn’t lust or simple appreciation for a well-put-together female form. Instead there was something, what? propriety about it. Maybe more like a victory, as if he’d laid claim to Shari.

  Like hell!

  Angry and protective, Maco caught up to Shari and slid his arm around her waist. They had to squeeze together to make their way around the tables.

  “I’m not going to run away,” she said. “You don’t have to act as if I will.”

  “Sorry.” He wasn’t.

  Reaching for the door, he looked over his shoulder. The man was still watching. On the brink of letting Shari know she’d picked up an admirer, he held his tongue. He wanted her thinking about what was ahead for them and nothing else.

  But what if the man without a pizza had another agenda?

  Damn it, he was becoming paranoid.

  Wasn’t he?

  14

  Shari trailed after Maco’s Jeep as he drove out of town heading for an unincorporated part of the county to the south. Putting even more distance between herself and Working Dogs was freeing. If necessary, Rachele could reach her by cell. Otherwise, her acreage ceased to be her responsibility.

  Wearing a skirt and having her legs exposed felt strange, a brand of femininity she wasn’t accustomed to. She’d shampooed her hair and put lotion on everywhere and located a small bottle of cologne a client had given her. The scent’s calming effect had lasted until she’d walked into the pizza parlor and seen Maco waiting for her.

  “Thanks,” she muttered in the silent car. For telling me what you did.

  Should she let him know how much she appreciated his honesty? Maybe she shouldn’t bring up their earlier conversation; maybe he was regretting saying what he had.

  Maybe he’d expect the same from her.

  They were going to have sex tonight, fuck, maybe even make love if they didn’t wind up jumping each other’s bones like they were in heat as they had the first time. As for which of the three options she preferred—any and all would satisfy.

  Had she ever looked forward to sex the way she was now? Thanks to the older man who’d gotten her half-drunk before, she didn’t remember enough about losing her virginity. She hadn’t had that many lovers—the possibility of emotional intimacy turned her off—and she hadn’t found any man she’d seriously considered as husband material. Having gotten to this point in her life without ever being deeply in love, whatever that was, sometimes concerned her. Maybe it had to do with losing her father at the age and in the way she had. She’d never gone beyond seeing him as the center of her world.

  Enough with the shrink-think!

  Although there wasn’t much traffic, Maco drove slowly enough that she was in no danger of losing sight of him. She appreciated having him play the
gentleman by leaving her with her own set of wheels although maybe, like her, he needed time to wrap his mind around what lay ahead.

  Tonight wasn’t casual. Maybe the intensity of the past few days had added another layer to their budding relationship. Maybe he’d somehow wired her so she’d always respond to him. Whichever it was—if it was any of those things—she felt as if she was on a roller coaster that might not have brakes.

  Some three miles beyond the city limits, Maco signaled right and eased onto a single-lane gravel road. With only their headlights showing the way, she couldn’t tell where they were heading until she spotted a metal building larger than most houses with an oversized metal sliding door. That had to be where he stored equipment not in use. Next to the building was a flatbed trailer, a backhoe missing a tire, and a large stack of cement blocks.

  The road angled to the right of the storage garage, and at the end of the road stood a small house and no yard illuminated by the motion detection light that had just turned on. It was possible Maco didn’t care about personal landscaping. However, she guessed he simply didn’t have time to devote to his turf. It was a shame because the naked land around the house practically screamed, Do something with me! She hoped the house had decent furniture. And a bed.

  This was Maco’s house, his home, not a cookie-cutter rented apartment. A place to call his own complete with a sturdy wooden wagon wheel propped against the wall to the left of the front door.

  Someday, when all her money wasn’t going into Working Dogs, she’d own her own walls and rooms.

  Maco got out and started toward her Bronco. Although she wasted no time turning off the engine, he opened the door before she had a chance.

  “My priority was a place with room for my toys,” he said as she got out. “The house, which is about fifty years old, was an afterthought. I had the plumbing and electrical updated, and it has a new roof.”

  She looked up into eyes only a few inches away and bright from the light. Acknowledged his heat and her need for it. “I shouldn’t expect the Ritz. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “It hasn’t had a woman’s touch.”

  I’m glad. That way I can do what I want with it.

  The thought broke free before she’d known it was in her, leaving her to ponder whether she really wanted to be the one to give it that touch. She was far from a domestic goddess, but she understood the impact of color and comfortable furniture, a few plants. Of course there was a matter of them having just met, a man still getting used to not having to be responsible for a wife, and a woman who didn’t know how to wrap her mind around the concept of commitment to a man.

  “Do you think you can find your way back to town?” he asked.

  Hating the reminder that she wouldn’t be able to spend the night, she explained that she’d delivered a dog a couple of miles away and had been out there several times to make sure it was settling in.

  They hadn’t started for the house, but with his body warming hers even more with every second, she didn’t care. Strange. For someone who barely remembered being held by her parents and who had made her peace with the hand she’d been dealt, she suddenly longed to turn everything over to Maco. He was taking her mind and soul into places she didn’t believe they’d ever been.

  “You’re ready for this?”

  Brought back to reality by his question, she noted that he was holding out his hand. Taking it would be a simple gesture. Nothing more than acknowledgment on her part that he knew the uneven ground better than she did.

  Only it wasn’t simple.

  “Yes.” She’d hoped to sound strong and equal but her voice came out rough. It wasn’t that she was having second thoughts. Way beyond that point tonight. Rather, down deep inside she sensed that tonight could change her in fundamental things. Hell, he’d already changed her.

  Time to move forward. Time to share her body with his and have him do the same and see where that would lead them.

  Time to bury the unease that had nibbled at her all the time they were at the pizza parlor.

  Instead of standard-issue ranch house as she’d expected, Maco’s living room looked as if it had been decorated with what he’d grabbed at a low-end furniture store during a ten-minute shopping trip. Although his recliner tried to pass itself off as leather, she easily saw through to the vinyl. The lamp looked as if might tip over if someone touched it. In contrast, the large, sturdy coffee table was wood and handmade. In addition, she caught glimpses of the man himself in the framed photography on each wall. The pictures were of regional landmarks like South River during spring runoff and Mt. Ashforth covered in snow with a winter sun turning the snow into diamonds. A large collage depicted cattle, everything from a branding operation to a good-sized herd all with their backs to a blizzard to a newborn calf perhaps standing for the first time.

  “Did you take these?” She’d left his side and, with the lamp helping, was looking at the photography.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Don’t apologize or play modest. They’re wonderful.” She touched the calf, imagining the whisper-soft coat and a watchful glare from the little one’s mother.

  “Don’t forget, the lighting in here’s lousy. I confess to knowing nothing about how to frame a shot, the nuances of lighting, that kind of stuff. My plan was simply to bring nature indoors, particularly the kind of nature I relate to.”

  “You’ve succeeded.”

  He’d stayed near the lamp while she took her solo tour of his walls, which meant he was now some fifteen feet away with his arms at his sides and his shirt begging to be removed. Not caring how much he might gather from her study of him, she slowly and thoroughly looked at every inch of him. Awesome as he was, he needed to be naked.

  By her hand.

  On legs both numb and tingling, she killed the space between them. Then she rose on her toes and, not holding on to him for balance, kissed him. Halfway through absorbing the lingering taste of pizza and a single beer, her calves protested. She managed to land on her heels without falling into him.

  “That was interesting,” he said. “What were you trying to accomplish?”

  “I’m not sure. Obviously I’m not a ballerina.”

  “Obviously. Not that I’m complaining. I love your dress. Did I tell you that?”

  Smiling, she ran her hands over the dance-in-the-breeze fabric. “I’d gone shopping for underwear when I saw this on a mannequin. That’s the first time I’ve ever impulsively bought a dress. Like I said, I seldom need one.”

  “Do you ever wish it was different?”

  “No.” I’m not like Crystal.

  His mouth easy and begging to be kissed, he took hold of the cloth belt and slowly untied it. Drawing it off her, he draped it over his neck. The dress now hung on her, lightly brushing her breasts and hips and making her feel so feminine she didn’t know what to do with the sensation. Watching his expression, she gathered up the hem and lifted the dress over her head.

  She handed it to him.

  She stood in a practical white bra and pale lavender panties that exposed her belly button and constituted her attempt at seduction.

  “I need to ask you something,” she managed.

  “What?” He looked wary.

  “What kind of lover was your wife?” Not giving herself the chance to cave before his suddenly sober expression, she hurried her words. “She was sexy, right? Did all the feminine things, dressed—”

  “Crystal isn’t here tonight.”

  “I know that, but given what you told me, I have this vision of a seductress.” Taking hold of her panties’ waistband, she pulled it out then let it go so it snapped against her belly. “I can’t compete with that.”

  “She wasn’t very inventive. She always wanted me to seduce her.”

  “Did you like your role?”

  “Damn it, Shari. I’m not going to talk about the past.” His expression unreadable, he ran a finger between her panties and belly, soothing away the sting. “My e
x and I fell into roles. They stopped working.”

  Let it go. You don’t need to know more. “Did she like sex?”

  “At first, yes. At the end, no.”

  With a few words, he’d drawn a vivid picture of a crumbling relationship. Even she, who had no comparison, could understand that.

  “That’s it,” Maco said. “Crystal is a closed subject. On that note, the bedroom’s—”

  “Soon.” Despite the way her fingers pulsed and the growing heat in her sex, she held off touching him. He waited for her to make the next move.

  Someone she’d never known existed took hold of her and guided her movements. Feeling both disconnected from her body and closer to it than she’d ever been, she ran her hands over her breasts. Rubbed her nipples through the cotton. Her mouth parted; she wasn’t sure how breathing went.

  “They’re not usually so sensitive,” she whispered. “Only when I’m turned on.”

  “And that happens when?”

  “Not often enough and yet it always surprises me.”

  “You can’t be surprised now.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  With his hot gaze commanding her, she slipped a bra strap off one shoulder and then the other. Next she traced the bra where it met with the swell of her breasts, working light, teasing her skin with a nail. Her throat closed down. Her pussy wept.

  Maco’s mouth tightened, and he clenched his tanned and scratched workman’s fists. Seeing his struggle gave her direction. She’d do to her body what she wanted him to and in that way show him what turned her on.

  After freeing her left arm from the strap, she eased the cup down over that breast. She started to do the same with the right, then stopped. Maco’s erection was in full bloom and demanding both their attention. Ah, so that’s what it felt like to be a seductress. Unnerving.

  Keeping her gaze steady on that part of him, she stroked her naked breast. Despite her shaking hand, she circled her nipple with her forefinger. It took all she had not to whimper, and her legs had suddenly grown weak. Did he have the patience to watch her stimulate herself? Did she have the courage to take things even farther than she had?