Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports)

by Fox, Sutton

  “Morgan. Are you coming to our house?” Annie chirped, when Morgan stepped into the kitchen. What the heck did she mean by that?

  Her gazed traveled to Tyler and she couldn’t help but smile. Red-faced and silent, he stood at the counter. Sleeves rolled up and covered in flour. A chair on either side of him held a wriggling giggling young boy. Chris and Jacob were his nephews, each one trying to roll out cookie dough.

  “Ah...I’m not sure. I thought I was at your house.”

  The precocious child blinked at her. “Nooooo, it’s not. This is Gramma and Grampa’s house.” She bobbed her blonde head. “Our house is down the road. Aunt Stephanie and Aunt Jessica said you should see it, if you like it.”

  Patty Ann swept Annie up into her arms as she tried to hide her grin. “Come on, young missy, we need a hand cutting flowers for the dinner table.” With a wink at Tyler and raised eyebrows for Morgan, she carried her bundle of joy out the French doors. Through them, Morgan could see the aunts were already busy cutting baskets of flowers.

  “So, I need to see if I like your house. Is that it?” Morgan wandered over and pinched a piece of dough out of Jacob’s bowl. “Oh, sugar cookies. My favorite.” She ruffled her hand through Jacob’s tawny hair and grinned at him as she popped the dough in her mouth. “Mmm. Great job, boys.”

  Tyler gazed warmly at her, chagrined. “I hadn’t heard anything about it. I’m sorry. My sisters are forever trying to play matchmakers. It looks as though you’ve made their list.” He shrugged and tried, but couldn’t manage, to look unhappy about it.

  It didn’t feel odd when she thought about it, just a little disconcerting to know they’d been the topic of someone’s conversation. Even if she told herself they weren’t really a couple, it felt like the next natural step. To where? Off a cliff? Her intellect argued with her emotion about whether or not it was a good idea. Curiosity aroused, logic flew out the window. Now she wanted to see the house.

  She watched as Tyler helped each boy carefully place his cookie sheet in the oven and set the timer. He turned to face her, eyebrows raised in question, drying his hands on a dish towel. “I’ve learned over the years it’s less painful if I just give in. Would you like to take a ride over and see the house after dinner?”

  *

  Nerves danced along his skin when he opened the front door for her. He felt silly being this nervous. For some crazy reason, it was important to him. Tyler wanted her to like it. No, love it. As much as he did. This had been his first solo project after his failed marriage. He remembered poring for hours over home plan after home plan. Finally he’d settled on this lovely gothic style.

  Warm, brown stone-stacked walls, with a deep, dark brown high-pitched roof. Beautifully arched windows complete with comfy padded seats nestled inside. Riots of orange lilies, planted by his sisters, graced the stone walk to welcome weary travelers.

  Nothing like the brick monstrosity his parents lived in. It suited their constantly entertaining lifestyle, but he’d wanted something different. Intimate. Only four bedrooms, not eight. Spending so much time in the public eye, he’d wanted something private. Something he would share with only a special few.

  “It’s quite a bit smaller than my parents’ house.”

  They wandered from the entryway, across a pale, hardwood floor, through a large great room with butter yellow walls and golden oak furniture. A wall of windows graced the back of the room, bordering the kitchen.

  “Wow, this is some kitchen.” Morgan grinned at him, folding her arms under her breasts in an unconscious gesture, giving an admiring glance to the top-of-the-line appliances. “Do you cook?” She unfolded her arms and ran one slim finger along the sleek, beige granite counter top.

  He tried to focus. Well, really he did focus, on her soft lips, her stroking hands, and the slight rise and fall of her breasts. How she would feel underneath him.

  “Ah, I haven’t cooked here yet. We aren’t completely moved in for another month or so. I’m still working out of L.A.”

  “Everything looks new. Just waiting for a family.” Morgan slapped her hand against her mouth. “Oops! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stick my foot in my mouth. You and Annie are a family.” Her pale skin flushed bright pink. He caught the forlorn look in her eyes before she lowered them to gaze at the floor.

  A family. Such simple words. So much pain. Annie needed someone stable in her life. Someone who cared for and about her.

  “Someone like you.” Oh, God. Did he really say that out loud? He couldn’t risk their hearts carelessly. Their?

  “What? Someone like me, what?” Confused, she looked at him with a frown, her sweet, pink lips pursed together.

  He needed to touch her. Two steps and he stood before her. He ran his hands on either side of her head, his fingers splaying through her curls. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  Her lips tasted of sugar cookie dough; her heat invited him further. Tyler gathered her close, wanting to feel her yielding flesh against him. Hands open wide, he smoothed them down her back and felt her muscles tighten up as she sucked in her breath. What was he thinking? Thinking only of his need for her, he’d hurt her again. Fool.

  He vowed to change that right this moment. To give her something no one else ever had. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not healed yet.”

  She smiled at him, a smile wrapped in heat and promise. “I keep forgetting myself. I’m not used to being cuddled all the time. It’s a new experience for me.”

  “Well, you should get used to it.” He grasped her hand and led her toward the stairway.

  Morgan dug her heels into the floor to stop their forward progress. “Why? Why should I get used to it? You mean depend on someone? No way. Just when you need them, they disappear. No thanks. Not me.” She held out her hand, palm facing him as if to block him. “We had a good time, let’s just leave it at that.”

  Tyler watched her upraised hand tell one story and the beseeching look in her eyes tell another. “When was the last time you had a decent relationship with a man?” he queried softly. His unwavering stare tightly pinned the wild gaze in her bourbon-colored eyes. Needing to do something with his hands besides reach for her, he put them in his pockets.

  Panic crossed her face as she looked at him. “Are you crazy? I don’t have room in my life for a,” she raised her hands in the air making quotation marks with her fingers, “relationship.”

  He could feel her practically buzz with nervous energy as she started pacing in front of him.

  “I travel too much. My life is too full.”

  Finally, his breathing calmed even as his libido settled. He knew what he could give her. “Okay, okay, that’s fine,” he crooned to her. Giving in, he reached for her. Gently, like he would touch a frightened animal, he soothed her. “It’s all right. We’ll let it go for now. Walk with me. I’d like to show you the upstairs.”

  Hand in hand, they ascended the curving oak staircase. Down the open hallway, Tyler led her from room to room. “This will be Annie’s room.”

  He opened the door to a room meant for a fairy princess and heard Morgan sigh with what he thought might be longing. A white computer workstation, complete with computer and printer, rested beside a white canopied four-poster bed. The spread displayed a pink cabbage rose pattern that mimicked the small pink rosebuds in the ivory wallpaper. Each design echoed the soft rose-colored carpet blanketing the floor.

  “This room is mine.” The wide paneled oak door slid open quietly to reveal a large room with a fireplace. The ceiling slanted upward and half of it was made of glass. The bed, covered in golden velvet, rested under the huge skylight, decked with mounds of pillows. Brand new candles rested on every surface.

  “It’s beautiful.” Morgan sighed in wonder.

  The moon rose in perfect harmony with the stars, to shine down on them from a sky dressed in midnight blue.

  “I bet it’s lovely with the candles lit.” Her hands clasped in front of her, she wandered the room.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” He moved to the empty fireplace and took the lighter off the mantle. A thrill coursed through him as he moved around, lighting candle after candle. Her eyes shone brighter and her smile became larger with each one. The smallest things seemed to please her.

  She came to him then. Eyes full of feeling, she reached for his hand. “Touch me,” she whispered to him, almost shyly. Quite a change from the wild love he’d tasted from her before, but no less exciting.

  “I will, I’ll touch you.” He kissed her gently and slipped her shirt over her head. “You have to rest, so you can’t touch me. It’s my turn.”

  Not looking at her, he crossed the room to search his dresser. He removed an octagonal jar of amber liquid and carried it back to where she stood in her slender bra and jeans. “This should help your—oh, Morgan.” Stunned, he stared at her. Dark purplish-red bruises almost two inches wide, shaped like straps, covered her shoulders.

  He reached out. His hand hovered just above a golf-ball-sized bruise on the outside of her left shoulder. “What is this?”

  She looked down at herself, back at him. “It’s nothing. A rock flew up and caught me in the last race. Job hazard, that’s all.”

  “And these?” He waved his hands lightly around her to encompass the rest of the marks. “A job hazard as well?” He worked to keep the anger out of his voice. That she should be so cavalier about injury to herself raised his ire.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you upset? It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  She was right. He didn’t like it. “You don’t care if you hurt yourself?”

  Frustrated, she shook her head and reached for her shirt. “Of course I care. I don’t like it. Only a fool would like to walk around bruised and aching. But it happens. I don’t dwell on it. Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  Tyler remembered what it felt like to watch her car tumbling over and over again. Literally flying apart, with her inside. His stomach somersaulted and his heart jumped inside his chest. She was right, he knew. Bruises were small potatoes compared to fact that she could die out there. Doing what she loved. Tenderness swamped him. Feelings he couldn’t yet voice rose up inside him.

  “I’m sorry, Morgan. It just shocked me to see real evidence of how dangerous your job is. I apologize.” Tyler tugged her shirt out of her hands and tossed it on the lounge. “Relax. Let me rub some of this liniment on your back. Melba makes it up with wintergreen and a bunch of other stuff. It always works miracles on my tired muscles.”

  *

  The soft flicker of candlelight painted the room with a mellow glow. Darkness wrapped the room with silence. Only the rustle of clothing disturbed the night.

  Tyler’s hands felt wonderful as they caressed her back. Long, smooth strokes glided over her, stretching and soothing her aching muscles. “Do you mind if I lie down?” Her voice, soft in the pale light, came out as a whisper.

  “Not at all. Why don’t you take your pants off before you do?”

  Morgan slipped off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans. She stepped out of them, revealing more bruises on her thighs.

  She’d never been in a candle-lit room with a man. It was one of those private, girly girl dreams that tough girl Morgan kept hidden from the world. She thought it divine. Sitting on the bed, she rolled over onto her stomach and stretched out. A pillow under her stomach helped to keep the pressure off her bruises. Several more pillows were pushed to the floor. “Oh, great bed. Help yourself if you want to rub some more.”

  “As you wish.”

  The words pierced her heart. They were the same ones her father said to her and her mother over and over again for years. Ever since he’d heard them in that princess movie. Her eyes welled up with tears she willed not to fall. For her dad they meant, I love you. They couldn’t mean that for Tyler. Could they? No. No. Her panicked mind reassured her. They were just a turn of phrase. That’s all.

  “Relax. You’re tightening up.” His warm, oil slick fingers kneaded her back. “I want you to do something for me. Okay?”

  “’Kay.” Unshed tears made her voice coarse. Strong hands grasped her foot, massaging oil into the sole and heel.

  “Breathe deep for me. Like this. Inhale...slowly. Now, exhale.” Busy fingers worked their way around her ankle to her calf. “Again. Inhale...deeply. That’s good. Now...exhale.”

  The deep breathing helped Morgan to relax. Tense as she’d felt at the start, against her will her muscles melted under his firm touch. Never in her adult life had a man been this gentle with her. Tyler touched her as if she were a most delicate treasure. He made her feel...cherished.

  Morgan thought herself a warrior. She knew she could face death with the best of them. Yet simple caring and compassion became her undoing. Emotion rose up to inundate her.

  “There’s my girl,” he crooned softly, his voice a whisper along her skin. “Let it go.” Firm hands worked their sensuous magic up the back of her thighs. Over and around, he kneaded. Fingertips lightly brushed the edge of her panties. It made her tingle. She wanted more.

  “I...can’t do this.” She nearly sobbed. Tears threatened to spill over.

  He didn’t stop rubbing, his fingers worked around the film of lace, pressing and squeezing.

  She struggled to rise.

  “Yes, you can. You need this.” Tyler held her gently down on the bed. Carefully he worked her buttocks, more rubbing than pressing. She could feel his cautious touch, apparently not forgetting her tender front. A warm chuckle reached her ears about the same time she felt his lips caress the rounded cheek.

  “I believe when we first met, you told me to do this. How could I forget such a sultry invitation?” he murmured. Breath hot, he kissed her butt cheeks. Both of them!

  It should have made her laugh. Instead, the tenderness of the gesture made her cry. Finally, silent tears seeped out of tightly closed eyes. He rolled her over, tenderly grasping her thighs and arms.

  “Come on, love. Let’s do the front.”

  Embarrassed he would see her tears, she kept her eyes shut. Missing his touch, she opened them to slits and watched him stare at her. Still fully dressed, he leaned back on his heels.

  “You are beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you are?” Covering his hands once more with oil, he grasped her hand, his thumbs massaging her joints, working his way up her arm. “Your skin is soft as the finest ivory silk. Graceful limbs, supple muscles.”

  Morgan couldn’t remember a man calling her beautiful. She wasn’t beautiful. She was built like an elf. Okay, a well-endowed elf, not a beautiful one. “I’m not beautiful, I’m average. You don’t have to lie to me.”

  “It’s no lie, Morgan,” he argued in a tender voice. “You are beautiful, to me. You may not see it in the mirror when you look, but I do. It radiates outward, from your soul. It shines from your eyes. You try to hide it with your tough as nails exterior. But it slips out, just the same.”

  The heated touch of his lips on hers burst through the last of the ice she’d spent years layering over her heart. It cracked wide and melted away. “I... I...” She hiccupped and failed to stifle a sob. Wearing only bra and panties, she rolled onto her side, away from him.

  Mindless grief rushed out from where ice had held it buried for years. No longer able to hold it in, Morgan wept.

  She mourned the loss of her innocence, all those years ago. Tears fell for the failure of her marriage, her father’s illness and, most of all, the aching loss of her daughter.

  Tyler picked her up and, leaning against the headboard, cradled her in his lap. Wrapped safely in his arms, she held on to him and cried soul-cleansing tears.

  *

  A ringing phone roused Tyler from where he dozed. Startled, he nearly dropped the precious bundle, asleep against him. Only his family had this number. He shuffled Morgan easily to the bed and crossed the room.

  “Hello.” He watched Morgan sit slowly on the edge of the bed and rub sleep from her eyes. Dredging through the dregs of
sleep, he still thought her lovely.

  “What?” he questioned, barely listening.

  “Tyler, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you need to get yourself and that lovely woman of yours on the move, pronto.”

  The serious tone of his mother’s voice finally caught his attention. “Is Annie okay?”

  “She’s fine. She’s sound asleep on the sofa. It’s Morgan—”

  He breathed a sigh of short-lived relief. “Wait. Excuse me, can you repeat that?” He must be mistaken. The words he heard next shocked him more than he ever imagined.

  “The hospital just contacted me. I left word that Morgan would be with us. Apparently a nurse friend tried to reach her. Morgan’s father has taken a turn for the worse. They’ve admitted him, and are calling in the family.”

  “Why?” Wasn’t he just full of bright questions. At some point maybe he’d come up with a full sentence.

  “I made a few calls and managed to snag his attending physician at dinner. It’s not up to me to tell you, that’s her story, but it’s not good, Tyler. Her father doesn’t have much time. You need to get that girl to the airport. Cameron’s already dispatched a plane.”

  Wide awake now, his heart ached for Morgan. How much could one person take? “Okay, we’ll be right there.” He disconnected the call with a sigh.

  “What’s up? Is Annie okay?”

  Wishing the floor would open up and swallow him would be asking too much. It amazed him Morgan would think of his child first. She really had no idea how special she was. He watched her recognize his somber look and she reached for her clothes.

  “Morgan, why didn’t you tell me about your father’s illness?”

  Her face lost its color and she sat hard on the edge of the bed, holding her jeans and shirt clasped against her chest. “I didn’t think telling you would change anything. Why?”

  There was no time to put if off. Even if he wanted to spare her, he couldn’t. The thought made acid churn in his stomach. “That was Mom. Someone named Lynn called the network trying to reach you. Butch Cameron is sending a jet to the local airport. You’ve got to go. Now.”