by B. J Daniels
He knew he should stop, but her lips parted as he deepened the kiss, opening to him as her body melded again into his.
He breathed her in, all his senses acutely in tune with her. Desire rippled through him in waves each stronger than the next. He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted this woman. This damned woman had more than gotten to him.
To his surprise it was Dixie who pulled back this time. The look in her eyes surprised him. He’d thought this was what she’d wanted.
“What?” he asked, half-afraid.
“I have to know something first.”
“I’m sorry, I thought…”
“That I wanted you?” She smiled up at him. “Oh, I do, Chance. I always have.”
He caught his breath as he sensed exactly where this was going.
“But I have to know if it’s me you’re kissing. Or my sister.”
“Rebecca? Dixie, she’s married with three kids.”
“You were in love with her.”
“A lifetime ago. Dixie, that kiss was about you. No one else.” He reached for her. “Oh, Dixie,” he said as he brushed a lock of her wild hair back from her beautiful face. “There is no one like you. No one who’s ever made me feel like this.”
She looked into Chance Walker’s eyes and saw the answer she needed, had wanted since the first day she’d set eyes on him when she was twelve. It had been love at first sight, as corny as that was. No schoolgirl crush. She’d known that someday—
“Dixie, you have to know that I…” She dragged him to her, cutting off his words with a kiss. He swept her up in his arms, kissing her wildly, as he carried her to the deep leather couch in front of the fire.
He made love to her slowly in the firelight, kissing her as he removed each piece of clothing before he began a seductive trail of kisses across her bare flesh.
She arched against his mouth as he pushed aside her bra to suck one of her hard nipples into his mouth. Unlike him, she tore at his clothes, yearning to feel his naked body on hers.
“Dixie,” he whispered as she tossed his shirt over the back of the couch. “We have all night.”
She laughed, breathing hard as she reached for the buttons on his jeans, arching one brow as she met his gaze. “Then let’s not waste a second of it,” she said, and jerked his jeans open.
They rolled off the couch onto the braided rug in front of the fire, both laughing as they shed the rest of their clothing.
She pressed her naked flesh to his, taking in his scent, burying her fingers in his thick hair as she looked into his eyes. “Now,” she said, “we can slow down.” She met his mouth with her own, felt his hands cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing the nipples to hard, pleasured points before his fingers slid down her belly and between her legs.
He laughed and rolled her over onto her back. She arched against his fingers, then his mouth before she cried out in release. Then his body was back, warm and hard, as he fitted himself into her and began the slow sweet dance of lovers until they both cried out, clutching each other as the fire crackled softly beside them, the snow falling silently beyond the windows.
For a long time they lay in each others arms watching the fire, dazed and drowsy. Dixie couldn’t remember being more content. That was one reason she was so surprised when she felt Chance pull away to get to his feet.
“Stay here,” he ordered, then leaned over her and kissed her gently on the mouth before he dressed and went to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
WARMED BY THEIR lovemaking, she lay in front of the fire until she realized she was ravenous. She dressed and went into the kitchen to make them sandwiches. When Chance didn’t come back, she began to worry. She missed him, and that reminded her that this was temporary. Maybe very temporary given that someone still wanted her dead. And now she’d involved Chance in it.
She was just finishing putting the sandwich makings away when she heard his footfalls on the deck. The next moment, the front door burst open and she caught the rich scent of pine as a huge pine tree was pushed through the door followed by a snowy Chance Walker.
He was smiling as he stood the tree up in a pot by the window. “I have no idea what we’re going to decorate it with,” he said, eyes shining when he looked at her. “I got rid of all my decorations.”
She nodded, pretty sure she knew when that had happened and why. “Don’t worry. We’ll find something.” She touched the prickly green bough, tears filling her eyes as she looked at him. “Thank you.”
“It’s Christmas,” he said, his voice cracking.
CHANCE KNEW that no matter what happened in the future, he would never forget this night. This Christmas. Like the last one with his daughter, he would keep it always in his heart.
They made a huge batch of popcorn, eating some in front of the fire, stringing the rest on thread. They talked about religion and flying saucers and Bigfoot. They laughed and kidded. They kissed. And by midnight, the tree was decorated.
As they stood back and admired it, he had to admit, “I’ve never seen a more beautiful tree.”
Dixie laughed. He loved the sound. It filled the cabin the same way her smile did, bringing a warmth that filled him to overflowing. He never thought he could feel like this again.
“I want to tell you about my daughter,” he said after a moment. She nodded slowly. And he told her about a woman he’d been dating. “When she got pregnant I offered to marry her, but we both knew it wouldn’t have worked. She moved in here, had the baby on Christmas Eve three years ago. I never thought I could be happier.”
Dixie put her arm around him, knowing what came next.
“Her name was Star. She lived for just over three weeks. Her heart hadn’t formed correctly.” He fought back tears. “She was so beautiful.”
Dixie took him in her arms. He buried his face in her hair. They stayed like that for a long time. When he pulled back he saw that she was crying. He thumbed away her tears.
“You know what our tree needs, don’t you?” Dixie said, getting up to go to the kitchen.
He smiled, nodding as he saw what she planned to do.
He cut a star from the cardboard box their groceries had been in and she covered it with tin foil.
“Here,” she said. “You can put it on the tree.”
He shook his head and grabbed her, swinging her around as he carried her over to the tree to lift her up as she placed the star carefully on the top. The firelight caught it, sending the silvery light across the log walls of the cabin.
“Merry Christmas!” she said as he lowered her to the floor again.
He felt a well of emotion surge inside him as he pulled her to him. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered against her hair, and kissed her.
Sometime during the wee hours of morning they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Beauregard snoring softly in the corner as the fire burned down to embers and the snow continued to fall.
Chapter Fifteen
Oliver stumbled into the house, half-drunk, sick to his very soul. He thought about sleeping on the couch, not wanting to wake Rebecca, but at the same time not wanting to have to face the rowdy kids in the morning.
Then he saw a note saying that the nanny had taken the kids somewhere. It was just him and Rebecca alone here tonight. The thought sent a shiver through him. Had she purposely sent the nanny and the brats away? Was she upstairs lying in wait for him because she knew?
The thought made him sick to his stomach.
He headed for the couch, planning to avoid her as long as possible. The phone rang.
He hurriedly snatched it up before it could wake her. Who could be calling at this hour anyway? “Hello?”
“Bad news.”
Oliver’s head buzzed as his heart pounded. “Ace?”
“The deal fell through. The money’s gone. I’ve been trying to track the guys down all day. They blew town. I’m sorry.”
“No.” Oliver was shaking his head, thinking about how that money was going to save him. He was ruined.
Worse than ruined. Even his name would be dragged through the mud. He’d be lucky to get out with the clothes on his back once Beau found out. “No.”
“I’m sorry, man. You knew there was risk, right? I mean, you can’t expect to make millions with a few measly thousand dollars without there being risks.”
“Two hundred and twenty-five thousand,” Oliver said. “This can’t be happening.”
“I know what you mean, man. I put some of my money into this. That’s why I’m leaving town for a while.”
“What?”
“I owe the kind of guys who break your kneecaps just for the fun of it. You’re lucky you don’t owe any guys like that anyway.”
Was he kidding? He owed everyone. And he’d lost more tonight. He was as good as dead. “You can’t leave town. We have to find these guys and get the money back.”
“Not happening. I’m out of here and I doubt I’ll be coming back anytime soon. You might want to think about leaving town for a while.” The line went dead.
“Ace? Ace!” He slammed down the phone, the sound echoing through the foyer. He leaned against the wall. He was totally screwed. There was no way out now. Nothing he could do.
He thought about the gun he kept in the nightstand beside his bed in case of a break-in. There was only one way out, he thought in his drunken, desolate state. Go up there, put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.
And if he wanted to be really considerate, he would take Rebecca with him. After all, this was all her fault. The thought buoyed him enough that he slowly pushed himself off the wall and began the long climb up the stairs to the master bedroom.
DIXIE WOKE sometime in the night. She’d heard a sound outside the cabin. She closed her eyes, not wanting to get up. The cabin felt cold and here in bed with Chance, she couldn’t have been more warm and content.
Beauregard let out a soft woof in the other room. Chance didn’t stir. She smiled to herself, remembering their hours of lovemaking. Any other man would have been comatose.
Slipping out of the bed, she padded into the living room. The fire was little more than ashes, the room cold, at least by Texas standards.
She hugged herself as she moved to the window where Beauregard was staring out. He let out another woof, glancing over at her as if to say, “There’s something out there.”
“Right,” she said, thinking it was probably a deer. Chance said there were often deer in his yard.
She put her face to the glass, cupping her hands to look out. It was still snowing, the sky light for the middle of the night. But still she couldn’t see anything. If there was a deer out there, she sure didn’t see it.
She started to turn away when she thought she saw a light. It flashed on for a few seconds off to her right, low on the mountain, and then was gone just as quickly. She stared into the snowy darkness until her eyes ached but she didn’t see it again.
Even Beauregard lost interest. He dropped down to go back over to his spot next to the fireplace. She stayed a few more minutes, becoming convinced she’d just imagined it. Who in their right mind would be out on a night like this? And didn’t Chance say there were no other cabins close by?
She got herself a glass of water, checked the door to make sure it was locked and went back to bed.
“Everything all right?” Chance asked sleepily as she crawled under the covers.
“Fine.” Locked in the warmth of Chance’s arms, everything was fine.
OLIVER CREPT INTO the master bedroom afraid to turn on a light. What he had to do was better done in the dark. He’d cried all the way up the stairs, stopping on the landing to sit.
He’d never felt more sorry for himself. He tried to imagine his parents at the funeral mourning over his grave. They would be sorry they’d treated him the way they had all of his life. Cold, uncaring snobs, that’s what they were.
The bedroom was pitch-black—just the way Rebecca liked it. He silently cursed her as he stumbled in the general direction of the bedstand where he kept the gun, all the time imagining his parents breaking down at the funeral. They would be so sorry.
They’d never wanted him to marry Rebecca. They found her to be inferior in class. But she’s rich, he’d said. They’d turned their noses up at Beauregard Bonner’s new wealth as being crass just like him.
He hoped they’d feel guilty for the rest of their lives. In fact, he might write a suicide note telling them they were the reason. Why not?
He bumped into the bed and froze, afraid he’d awaken Rebecca. Not a sound came from the bed. He worked his way along the edge to the bedstand, opened the drawer and pulled out the gun.
Rebecca always slept on the left side.
He couldn’t see her, but then he didn’t really want to. Better just to get it done quickly.
He clicked off the safety, crying again. Not at the thought of shooting Rebecca, but at pulling the trigger on himself. He told himself this would save Rebecca the embarrassment of the divorce. She would thank him if she knew what he was doing for her. It wasn’t like she would forgive him once she found out about the money. The cold-hearted bitch.
With his legs against the bed, he estimated the distance from where he stood to where Rebecca’s head would be on her pillow. Aiming the gun, he braced himself. Two shots for her. One for him. Drunk and desperate, he decided he didn’t have the energy to write a suicide note. Let his parents always wonder.
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. Boom. Boom. He opened one eye. He couldn’t see Rebecca in the bed but there was no sound coming from her.
Knowing there was no turning back now, he turned the gun on himself.
BEAU BONNER GOT THE CALL early the next morning. At first he didn’t recognize the voice. He had trouble making sense of the words the man was saying.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he finally demanded when he realized it was one of his pilots.
“Your jet, sir. It’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone? Stolen?” Beau remembered that Mason had taken it. This was just a misunderstanding. “Mason Roberts took it—”
“No, sir. I’m talking about the jet you instructed me to fly to Montana today,” the pilot said. “It was taken last night and I’m told it won’t be back for several days.”
Beau felt his blood pressure soar. “Who took it? Carl? That damned irresponsible cousin of his, Ace?”
“Apparently you gave your daughter Rebecca Lancaster permission to take it. She hired her own pilot.”
“What?” He couldn’t believe this. “Where the hell did she go with it?”
“According to her flight plan? New York City and possibly on to Paris.”
Beau snapped off the phone, so livid he thought he might have a coronary. What the hell had Rebecca been thinking?
He groaned as he realized exactly what she’d been thinking. She didn’t want to hear what he had to tell her. That was so like Rebecca. She’d never wanted to hear bad news. She preferred to pretend that everything was fine.
Beau cussed to himself. He should have gone to her house, made her listen. Well, at least in New York she wouldn’t hear about what was going on in Montana. There would be time when she returned to tell her everything.
He felt as if he’d dodged the bullet yet another time and felt guilty for being relieved he wouldn’t have to face Rebecca this morning. Christmas morning.
What now? He’d have to call Chance to tell him he wouldn’t be sending a plane. With commercial flights booked solid this time of year, Beau knew there was little chance of getting Dixie back to Texas for Christmas now. Christmas, and he was all alone.
He had hoped they could all be together this Christmas like normal families. Were there normal families? He blamed himself for Dixie and Rebecca never getting along. He loved Rebecca with all his heart, but it had never seemed enough. Even as a child, she’d seemed incapable of being satisfied. He’d poured love into her, trying to make up for the father who hadn’t wanted her. But Rebecca had proved to be a b
ottomless pit.
And then Dixie had come along.
Just the opposite of Rebecca, Dixie had been a willful, independent child who didn’t seem to need anyone. He’d blamed that on her having to grow up without a mother from such a young age. But the truth was, Dixie was like him.
Beau had spent his life trying not to be like his father and yet he could see the similarities between Rebecca and Dixie, him and Carl. Carl had wanted their father’s love desperately. Beau hadn’t asked for it, knew he didn’t deserve that kind of high regard, and often despised their mean domineering father as much as Carl.
Beau hadn’t stayed on the farm out of love or loyalty. While everyone his age left to find good-paying jobs and adventure, Beau had stayed on the farm in Texas, knowing there wasn’t any other place he’d be special except in his father’s eyes.
And then a gusher came in a few farms away and his friends came back to work the rigs. Carl and Ace had returned to Texas along with Mason who’d been bumming around the country. Mason came to him, not just with stories of the places he’d been, but with an idea.
To scrape together all the money they had and have a test well dug on the isolated north forty of the farm so no one would get wind of it—especially Carl or Ace. Or Beau’s old man.
He put his head in his hands. Rebecca had always believed that he loved Dixie more. Once she heard he wasn’t her father, nothing would convince her otherwise.
The phone rang again. This time it was the police.
CHANCE CAME AWAKE slowly, fighting not to leave the warm contentment of the dream. He’d been so happy in the dream, happier than he could remember being.
He opened his eyes to find sunlight streaming into the cabin. For those first few seconds he thought he was alone—just as he’d been for so long.
Then he felt her beside him and closed his eyes tight to hold back the sudden rush of emotion. It hadn’t been a dream. Beside him, Dixie stirred, her naked body warm and luscious next to his.
Opening his eyes, he looked at her, shocked by his feelings of just seeing her beside him, let alone the memory of their lovemaking. At that moment he would have moved heaven and earth to keep her beside him.
