Roomful of Roses

by Diana Palmer

  "McCabe," she sobbed against his warm mouth. Her arms tightened around his neck as she kissed him back. "Your leg...!"

  "Damn my leg," he breathed roughly. He bit at her mouth, teased it, forced it into a maelstrom of sensuality that had them both trembling with need. She clung, loving him, showing him in all the ways she could. When he finally stopped and let her slide back down so that she could stand, he had to support her because she was too shaken to stand alone.

  "I don't care if you leave," she whispered, her green eyes swimming in tears. "I don't care!"

  "Yes, I can see that," he said unsteadily.

  He held her face in his big warm hands and kissed away every salty tear.

  "It's not my fault," she ground out. "You didn't have to come back, you didn't have to ruin my life!"

  "Yes, I did. Have to come back. The thought of you with Andy was killing me."

  That was faintly shocking. She looked up and caught an expression in his eyes that knocked the question she meant to ask right out of her mind.

  "And when I saw you again," he continued quietly, "I knew I'd never be the same. Wynn, I want to be free. But as long as you're alive, I'll never be free again."

  The tears were back. He wasn't saying the words, but he was feeling them, and she could see them, actually see them, in his tormented face.

  "Don't cry," he said softly. "You don't know how it hurts me to watch you."

  She dabbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I'm sorry I've made things hard for you," she said softly. "I won't interfere in your life anymore. I'll take what you can give and I won't ask for the moon. Okay?" She looked up at him with such love and trust in her green eyes that he groaned and bent to kiss her wildly.

  "You made me feel like the worst heel God ever made," he ground out. "But I can't quit, Wynn, not ... just yet. In a few years, maybe I can settle for small-town politics and writing books. But ... not yet. I wish I could. I wish I could give you everything you want, the moon, the stars ... a roomful of roses."

  "All right," she said, capitulating totally.

  "No argument?" he asked suspiciously.

  She shook her head with a quiet, sad smile. "I love you," she said simply. Then her lower lip trembled and spoiled the whole effect.

  His teeth ground together and he sighed.

  "Yes, I can see that," he said wearily, drawing her close. He rested his forehead against hers. "Wynn, marry me and we'll work out the details later. I can't live without you now. I've faced that squarely."

  She felt the same way, but he already knew that. She sighed and moved closer.

  His lips moved from her forehead down to her mouth, and his hands moved from her waist up to her rib cage and he kissed her warmly, slowing, rocking her softly against him from side to side in a wildly erotic rhythm.

  "McCabe?" she whispered, trembling.

  "Shh," he whispered back. His hands moved down to her upper thighs, pressing them gently to his, even though the movement made him flinch a little.

  "Now lift up a little," he whispered, and caught his breath when she did.

  She moaned sharply, her hands clutching at his shoulders as a sensation like nothing she'd experienced in her life made her shudder all over.

  "Wynn!" he ground out, kissing her hotly, his mouth open, his tongue urgent.

  She gave him back the kiss, feeling bound to him by live electricity, crying out helplessly as she burned with frustrated longing.

  His hands were under the knitted blouse she was wearing, moving on her bare back to unfasten her frilly little bra. They moved around her, lifting softly, cupping, teasing, until she thought she'd never breathe nor mally again.

  "Lie down with me on the couch," he said unsteadily, moving her toward it with a hard hand on her arm.

  She didn't say a word, or protest. She eased down into the soft cushions and watched him strip off his shirt before he stretched out beside her. Her green eyes widened at the expres sion on his face as he arched over her, and her fingers trembled as she lifted them to smooth over his broad, warm chest. He was perspiring just a little, and the curling hair that covered the powerful muscles was faintly damp under her caressing hands.

  He trembled as she touched him, lifting himself up to give her hands enough space, watching her, letting her see how it affected him.

  "I love to touch you," she whispered achingly.

  "I love to touch you, too," he returned, his voice deep and gentle. He eased down on his elbow and tugged at her blouse. "Take it off, Wynn."

  She hesitated for an instant, and he tugged at it again, smiling.

  "I've seen you before," he reminded her. "And you've seen me - all of me. We're going to be married. So doesn't that give us a few privileges?"

  They were and it did. So she sat up and let him help ease the blouse and bra away and then she stretched back out and let him look.

  His fingers traced the silken skin around her full breasts lightly, appreciatively, while his eyes got drunk on the sight of her.

  "Have you ever thought about what it would feel like if I kissed you here?" he asked, touching the soft swell lightly.

  Her eyes widened and she breathed unsteadily. "Oh, yes, I've thought about it," she confessed.

  He bent his head with a faint smile and brushed his open mouth across her creamy skin, dragging it sensuously back and forth until she arched up toward him with a sharp cry.

  "I like that," he murmured. His hands slid under her shoulders to hold her where he wanted her, while his mouth took absolute possession of every taut line and curve of her.

  She shuddered helplessly. It was the most incredible kind of pleasure, and she clung to him, holding his head, his mouth, against her.

  "I said the first time I kissed you that you were passionate," he murmured, lifting his head at last to look into her shocked eyes. "But I didn't know the half of it, did I, darling? Sweet and wild in my arms, as abandoned a lover as any man could want."

  "We ... aren't lovers," she whispered.

  "Not yet," he murmured, bending to kiss her tenderly. "Soon. Very soon, we will be. And I'll show you all the slow, intimate ways a man and woman talk to each other with their bodies."

  Her eyes searched his. "You're very good to look at, without your clothes," she said hesitantly.

  He smiled delightedly at the shy little observation. "I imagine you look very good without your own, from what you've let me see." His hand smoothed down over the skirt she was wearing and the smile faded. "Wynn, will you let me undress you?"

  She could hardly get her breath at all. She went wild, thinking how it would be to let him smooth away the skirt and her hose and her brief little lacy underthings, and really see her, all of her, with those dark, patient eyes. Her lips parted at the sensations that wound up in her and exploded. She reached up and touched his chest, letting her hands find their way down to his hard waist and the muscular stomach at his belt buckle. He stiffened at her touch and silently took her hands and urged them under the belt, under the fabric, to the flat, muscular plane of his stomach. She felt him shudder and her eyes wid ened.

  "Oh, McCabe," she whispered, awed.

  The innocent movement of her fingers seemed to trigger something violent in him.

  His body crushed down over hers deliberately and he held her eyes while his lips settled exactly over hers and his long, powerful legs insinuated themselves intimately between her own.

  His forearms caught most of his weight, but he was still heavy enough to crush her down into the cushions. She looked straight into his eyes and gasped helplessly at the fiery arousal he was letting her feel.

  "When we get married, Miss Ascot," he said roughly, "this is how we're going to lie in my bed. But there won't be acres of fabric between us, and you'll be able to feel every inch of me burning down into your body."

  Her lips opened as she stared at him, drowning in the feel and smell and heat of him. "Isn't this hurting your leg?" she whispered in a stranger's voice.

&nbs
p; "Unbearably, darling," he confessed, but there was something hot and wild blazing in his eyes. "And I don't even feel it. All I feel is you. You, Wynn, like silk and flame, and I want you until I could strip naked and run into a forest fire without feeling the heat."

  Her fingers touched his face, tenderly for all the fierce emotion she felt. "Then, take me, if you need to," she whispered. "I'll let you."

  He swallowed, and his eyes dropped to her lips. "I want to," he said. "But I don't think I can."

  Her eyes mirrored her amusement about that, and he managed a smile, too.

  "That's not what I meant, Wynn," he murmured deeply. "As you can feel, I'm perfectly capable right now. What I meant is, I don't think I want to spoil things."

  Her misty eyes questioned him and he laughed self-consciously and brushed the disheveled dark hair away from her face.

  "It's different, somehow," he said slowly. "I never used to mind taking women to bed, but it's special now. I want you in white satin walking down the aisle. I want the whole world to know that you didn't toss your principles down the drain and go promiscuous even when the rest of the world did." He frowned slightly, watching her. "And I want it in a church, even if we just have a small ceremony. I want everything proper and aboveboard. And that doesn't include anticipating it on this sofa," he added on a sigh, rolling away from her to lie heavily on his back.

  She loved him more at that moment than she ever had. She moved close and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, letting one arm drape lazily over his bare chest.

  "Will you wear a ring, too?"

  "If you like."

  "Of course I like," she muttered, sliding her head back to glare up at him. "I don't want other women thinking you're available. My gosh, competition is fierce these days."

  "As if you'd have to worry about that," he mused, letting his eyes drop deliberately to her bare torso. "Whew! Would you mind putting your clothes back on? Honestly, I've never seen anything so brazen. Tearing off your blouse, forcing me to kiss your -"

  "Stop it!" she gasped, leaping to her feet. "Shame on you!"

  He watched her, relaxed, delighted, while she struggled with clips and buttons. "Hussy," he accused.

  She glared at him. "You just hold your breath until I take my blouse off for you again, you unappreciative peasant," she told him.

  He got to his feet, rubbing his thigh gingerly, and pulled his own shirt back on. "Aren't we supposed to go to work today?" he asked.

  She gasped, running to find a clock. "It's nine-thirty!" she exclaimed. "We're an hour late."

  "My, my, we did spend some time lying down, didn't we?" he murmured, grinning at her blush. "What a pity we aren't already married ... Speaking of that, we'll get the license and the blood tests this morning, and next week we can put the wedding in the paper. We'll get Jess and Judy to be witnesses, Kelly can give you away. We'll let old preacher Barnes marry us in the Presbyterian church. ." He glanced at Wynn, who was feeling shellshocked by the speed with which he was planning. "You're still Presbyterian?" And when she nodded in a dazed way, he continued, "And we can be married Saturday. Okay?"

  She was still nodding, feeling her whole life pass before her eyes.

  "Come on, before you freeze in that position," he said, taking her arm. "We've got a lot of loose ends to tie up. Move, darling."

  She followed him out the door. Those few days went by in an incredible rush. It was Friday afternoon, the blood tests were over, the license was in McCabe's pocket, the ceremony was set for ten a.m. the next morning, and Wynn was staring at a wall in the office trying to imagine being married to McCabe. He'd gone off to a civic-club luncheon and hadn't returned, but he'd been muttering something about going with the mayor to a budget meeting, so he was probably going to be late. She smiled, thinking about how it had been between them. He'd kissed her, but there had been no repeats of that wild interlude on the couch.

  She missed the startling newness of being caressed by him, but the waiting wasn't all that hard. Not when she could see the light at the end of the tunnel and it was rainbow bright. One more night alone in her bed, and then ...

  She sighed. Yes, she'd have him, physically. But when would he decide to leave for Central America? He was still technically employed by the wire service; he couldn't prolong his leave of absence once he was healed, not if he wanted to continue in the job. Not even when Wynn could see the love he'd never yet stated in his eyes. He cared. He just didn't care quite enough.

  The sudden trill of the telephone caught her off guard, and she picked it up.

  "Redvale Courier. Wynn Ascot speaking."

  "Just the girl," said one of the women she knew from the drugstore. "Listen, do you know what's going on over at the cotton gin? Police cars are swarming around here like crazy, and old Mike Hamm said he heard they'd cornered an escaped murderer over there. Is there any thing on your scanner?"

  Wynn caught her breath. "I'll see." She ran to turn on the scanner, and immediately caught some coded messages, very urgent, between the local police and the sheriffs department. Sure enough, they mentioned the gin, and two suspects.

  Wynn picked up the phone. "The scanner said there were two," she murmured.

  There was something muffled, then the woman's voice again. "That was Ben, with the fire department - I ran out and

  caught him as he went by the door. He said it's two escaped murderers from the prison in Reidsville. One of them had family south of here. The police stopped the stolen car and Randy Turner's been shot."

  "Randy!" Wynn knew him, he was a young man with a wife and baby who'd been with the police department only six months. "How is he?"

  "Bad. They don't know if he'll live. Ben thought he heard them say they'd made an arrest. Thank God, can you imagine "

  "I'd better get over there before it's all over, if I want my pix," Wynn interrupted.

  "Thanks for the tip! That's one I owe you!"

  "Anytime."

  Wynn grabbed up her camera and stuck a pad and pen in her purse. "Be back soon," she called to Judy. "They've just arrested a couple of escaped murderers at the gin!"

  "Be careful!" Judy called after her.

  "I'm always careful," she called back. It was only a block to the gin, so she left the car at the office and started running. A car would only get in the way, anyhow.

  She knew a back way to the gin, so she took it, weaving down an alley toward the metal building, which was deserted now that peanuts and soybeans were the main crop instead of cotton.

  Her skirts flew as she turned the corner and found herself suddenly, sickeningly, in front of a leveled pistol, held by one of two badly dressed men coming straight down the alley toward her.

  Chapter Ten

  Wynn stopped dead, staring helplessly at the pistol, which seemed to be ten times life size. She could see the darkness inside the barrel and wondered frantically if this was it.

  "A broad!" the taller man exclaimed. "Talk about the luck of the Irish," he added in a Northern accent. "Get her by the arm, Tony. Now we got some bargaining power."

  "You're the answer to a prayer, lady," the dark, foreign-looking man called Tony said, taking her arm roughly. "Now, don't you cause no trouble, and you won't get hurt. You just come right along with Jack and Tony and don't make no trouble."

  The hand gripping her so tightly was shaking. Both men were flushed and sweating wildly, and she could smell their fear. Or was it her own? she wondered, forcing her numb legs to move. Oh, McCabe, she thought miserably, why didn't I listen to you?

  The shorter man thrust her hand behind her, angrily dislodging the camera and purse from her shoulder and slamming them to the ground. "Now, hold still, lady!" he growled.

  "Hey, fuzz!" the taller man yelled as the three of them pressed against the corner of the building where the alley led to the street.

  The police chief stood up behind his car. "What do you want?"

  Wynn recognized Bill Davis, one of the finest officers the town had ever produced and,
fortunately, one well-trained in bargaining. The relief Wynn felt was overwhelming, because there were younger men on the force who were a little less patient.

  "We picked up a passenger," the tall man yelled. "A lady. With a big camera."

  "Wynn!" Bill burst out.

  "That your name, lady?" Tony asked sharply, forcing her arm back farther until it felt as if it would snap. "Does he know you?"