The Last Man She'd Marry

by Helen R. Myers

  By the time he’d put the glass out of harm’s way and had her stretched across the chaise, they were both breathing shallowly and she was staring at him with wide-eyed incredulity. Ignoring that, he unbuttoned her blouse to the waistband of her slacks. She had the most glorious honey-and-cream skin that all but cried out to be caressed and kissed. He did both, lingering with pleasure to brush his lips from the swell of her right breast down into the damp valley where her heart was thudding and up across her left breast.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. His hot breath warmed her through her lacy bra, not surprisingly teasing her rosy nipple into a tight bead.

  Alyx self-consciously drew her blouse back by the collar to keep her wounds hidden from him. “Jonas—”

  “Don’t,” he entreated. “You have to know I understand, and the only thing I’ll be seeing is your bravery.” Bending to her, he nudged the cloth aside with his nose, then brushed a kiss from her breast upward, until his lips reached the first feathery line forever cut into her perfect skin. The surgeons had taken their time trying not only to repair what that monster had done to her, but to remove as many signs of the inevitable scar tissue as possible. Even at this early date, Jonas thought they’d done an impressive and appreciable job.

  Aware she was staring off into space waiting for him to lie or leave, Jonas said simply, “It looks like a piece of a star fell to earth to leave its white-hot kiss on you.” Gently touching his lips to the center where the diagonal lines seemed to merge, he met Alyx’s gaze, only to see a hint of tears shimmer in her eyes.

  “You’re a sweet liar, Jonas.” Framing his head with her hands, she drew down his head to hers.

  Her natural voice was seductive—more alto than second soprano, and she lacked any drawl despite being a native-born Texan. Vulnerability and perhaps desire brought richer notes to it that stirred a unique protectiveness in him, just as it heated the yearning in his belly. In the slow, thorough kiss they shared, he tried to show her that he hadn’t lied much, hardly a bit.

  The yearning had to be mutual because he felt her arch her hips to get closer to him, and he eased his right leg between her thighs to increase that sensation while taking some of his weight off her injured thigh. Then he shifted his mouth to her lace-covered breast and drew her taut nipple into his mouth.

  Her reaction was as sudden and fierce as his; her fingers raked into his hair to clutch him closer, while the rest of her trembled with an almost virginal reaction. If he could, he would have confessed that he’d been without any sexual contact for as long as she’d all but confessed, and that being with the only woman he wanted was nearly frying his brain. But it was getting tough enough to breathe, let alone speak and when Alyx shoved his polo shirt up under his armpits, he thumbed the snap of her bra and brought them flesh-to-flesh for yet another level of sweet torture. Their hands bumped as they attacked the fastenings on her slacks and his jeans, merely moving the clothing enough to reach each other.

  Jonas drove into her with a smooth thrust. Her warm, welcoming heat nearly sent him over the edge in that instant. It had almost always been that way upon an initial reunion following some weeks apart. After that first race to pleasure, they would strive for the patience to savor and explore, but not the first time and not this time. And yet something was different for Jonas—and, maybe he imagined it because he wanted to, but he sensed a yearning in Alyx’s kiss. It spoke of depth beyond predatory passions. Like a blind man thinking he was witnessing his first glimmer of moonlight, he reached for it, for her, until, drinking in her cry, Jonas climaxed and rode blind on that fierce wave of satisfaction.

  Fierce, fickle wave.

  Whose voice was that? As his mind began to clear, Jonas wondered if he’d subconsciously channeled a movie line, or was he remembering some corny poetry he’d listened to for hours at a coffeehouse stakeout some years ago? Whatever it was, it wasn’t a thought in his language and, yet, it hit a nerve.

  Alyx would recover at any second, too, and probably push his butt off the chaise in her eagerness to wipe this experience off the day-planner of her life. Then she’d order him out—or worse. While that was the exact opposite of what he’d been thinking a moment ago, his descent back into reality succeeded in draining him of all confidence. This was, after all, Alyx Carmel, the Scarlett O’Hara of Texas law.

  “Whatever you feel the need to do or say,” he rasped against her hair. “Don’t regret this.”

  Chapter Nine

  No, there would be no regret.

  The second Alyx had sensed a flicker of regained sanity, she’d begun to berate herself for not thinking more of Parke’s reputation. Had one of the neighbors come to the back doors as she knew they were apt to do, the culde-sac of well-to-do retirees looking for escape from their own personal boredom would be in the thick of scandal. But that worry was short-lived. At some point between Jonas storming the front door and this resumption of their intimacy, she’d decided she couldn’t help believing that she’d replaced the cold steel in her spine for legitimate bone and marrow. What happened had been with her cooperation—she had to be honest about her participation in this.

  “No,” she whispered, sensing a unique vulnerability in him, as well. Whether imagined or not, she touched her hand to his cheek. “No regrets.”

  Jonas stroked her from hip to breast. “Thank you.”

  There was tenderness in his look and touch that kept her from knowing what to do next. Then pink caught her eye. “Jonas…the bandages! You’re bleeding through.” She quickly pressed back into the chaise to fasten her bra and button her blouse.

  “Ah! Sorry.” After adjusting his jeans, he rose and offered her his hand. “Are you okay? How’s your thigh? I tried to keep my weight off it.”

  By putting weight on his arms, that explained why his wounds were breaking open. “Let’s get you back to the bathroom.”

  Once there, she took control, ordering him to lean over the sink while she grabbed scissors from the drawer and cut off the saturated bandages, then collected the necessary items to get him cleaned up again. Aside from being upset that he’d refused to go to a clinic for help in the first place, this second view of so much blood was a ghastly reminder of her own wounds and her stomach threatened to revolt.

  To his credit, Jonas caught on fast. “You’re not about to get sick, are you?”

  “There are scratches and cuts…and then there’s this,” she muttered between gulps of air. “Jonas, these are gashes!”

  Almost whimsically, he shrugged and replied, “Just secure the bandages tighter this time, that’s all.”

  That’s all? “Fine—but then you need to keep your arms out from under me!”

  Upset that he didn’t get it, she decided his silence was the smartest decision he’d made in the last hour. But, as she worked, Alyx was aware that he studied her profile. She wished he would stop that, too. Those pale eyes unnerved her. She knew there were men who, if asked, “What are you thinking?” would answer, “Nothing,” and be dead-on accurate. He wasn’t one of those.

  “I’m not angry with you,” she finally blurted out.

  “I know.”

  “It’s just that you could have severed an artery bursting in like that, and you’re so proud with your one-riot-one-agent attitude—”

  “Wrong group, sweetheart. Those are the Texas Rangers.”

  She shot him a searing glance. “I know that. I’m just saying that you all think you’re immortal.”

  “Yes. And you care, and that throws you off your life plan.”

  “I don’t have a life plan.” Not now anyway.

  “At least you didn’t deny that you care.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw his lips twitch and refused to acknowledge that she’d slipped up. Maybe she did care that he hadn’t bled to death, who wouldn’t?

  “I can see someone needs to bring levity back to this conversation,” Jonas said with a note of resignation. “Do you remember the first time I flew back
to Austin and you opened your front door wearing only that black lace bustier, matching panties and high heels?”

  Alyx gasped in disbelief. “Excuse me! I still had on my skirt—and the vest, even though it was unbuttoned. That’s why I wore a strapless bra, as I said at the time.”

  “Yeah, yeah, supposedly the air conditioner in the courthouse was acting up so you needed to be able to take off your jacket without straps sticking out.”

  “No ‘supposedly’ about it.”

  “But it was a bustier.”

  Exasperated, Alyx flung the bloody bandages into the trash basket, then scooped up the plastic lining and began tying it for disposal. “Fine. Do you know anything about designer clothes? You could donate two ribs and a kidney and not be able to button some of those vests. I needed the help.”

  “No, you didn’t, but you looked fantastic—and I was only trying to tell you that it’s my favorite memory of you…of us.”

  He looked and sounded so apologetic, that Alyx couldn’t resist him, let alone keep to her stubborn resolve not to be amused by his version of the memory. “It was Halloween and you asked me if that was my trick-or-treat outfit.”

  “That’s right, it was. I did.”

  “And you’re saying that’s your favorite memory? What about the drive back to town after E.D. and Dylan’s wedding at the ranch?”

  Dropping his head back, Jonas groaned up at the ceiling. “That was a memory? I thought that was one of my wet dreams between visits.”

  He was an incorrigible flirt. A smart woman would never believe a word he said, whether flattery or promises.

  “You’d just climbed off my lap,” he recalled, narrowing his eyes.

  Yes, and resumed her seat on the passenger side just seconds before a state trooper drove past them. What a close call…and what scandal if the entire nightmare had played out. That was another reason they were better off having split up; he did bad things to her self-preservation instincts.

  “Imagine Dylan getting that call for help minutes after leaving for their honeymoon,” Jonas drawled.

  No way, Alyx thought with a shake of her head. “I would have called my lawyer.” No way would she put E.D. and Dylan—or herself for that matter—through such humiliation.

  Jonas brushed her hair back from her face. “I like how your hair curls when you get all agitated and indignant.”

  Alyx tilted her head away. “I need to check on Grace and get rid of these bloody bandages.”

  Jonas plucked the bag out of her grasp. “I’ll do that—and get the glasses to pour us another glass of wine.”

  “You’ve bled quite a bit, are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Your aversion to blood is making it worse than it is,” he said gently.

  “Maybe, but you’ll have to drive, too.”

  “Not yet…unless you just gave me a not-so-subtle hint to leave?”

  “No,” she said without thinking. She quickly added, “What about flying tomorrow?”

  “We’re closed tomorrow, and so far we don’t have any reservations for Monday.” Taking hold of her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. “So, now the truth—do I stay or do I go?”

  Maybe she was being a fool, but losing herself in his eyes, Alyx couldn’t help but nod. “I’d like it very much if you’d stay.”

  For an instant, Jonas looked as though he’d come back with something flip or flirtatious, but he simply lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. “Thank you. So would I.”

  Grace had recovered from her earlier scare and was ready to reign from her throne, the ottoman in the living room. Taking out her slices of chicken breast from the refrigerator to mix with dry dog food, Alyx focused on what to offer Jonas. He’d just returned with the wineglasses.

  “What about dinner?” she asked him. “You probably should have something in your stomach as well as wine, especially if you need to take pain pills later tonight.”

  “I won’t, but I will admit I’m getting hungry.”

  “Then why don’t you lie down in the living room and I’ll run to the market for a few things?”

  “Don’t do that. Anything you have here is fine.”

  Alyx gave him a wry look. “Well, you can’t have Grace’s chicken, and I think you need something more substantial than rabbit food.”

  “In that case, I’ll come with you.”

  How sweet, he was worried that she would run into that big lug again. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “We can always go to a restaurant.”

  He looked as enthusiastic about that as she did about the prospect of her yearly physical. Besides that, she didn’t want this day to end the way they always had in the past—sex followed by polite, safe conversation while being hovered over by waiters. Like anyone who enjoyed good food, culture and ambiance, Alyx loved an excellent dinner out, but that wasn’t what was needed tonight.

  “You’re in no shape for that. In fact, you’ll probably raise eyebrows at the market, too, with all of your bandages. If you insist on coming, you’re welcome, but I’d feel better if you stay put.”

  “Then grab a couple of TV dinners and be done with it.”

  Perplexed, Alyx collected her leather bag and drew out her compact to check for smudges and to redo her lipstick. “Are you worried that I’ll give you food poisoning?”

  “Of course not. But I can be really content with a burger and beer.”

  “I want food, not empty calories.” Snapping the compact shut, Alyx nodded toward the living room. “Go chill before I change my mind.”

  An hour later, Jonas opened his eyes to realize that what had wakened him was the tempting aroma emerging from the kitchen. For a moment he remained still, meeting Grace’s shy but curious gaze.

  He stifled a yawn and told the dog, “That’s for me. You already had yours.” But as he sat up and eased himself to his feet, he did stroke her sleek back. “Thanks for the company, cutie.”

  Wandering into the kitchen, he found the appealing sight of Alyx wearing a full apron imprinted with a map of Italy that displayed the various wine regions on it. She looked delectable herself with her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail at her nape and tendrils curling around her face. As for the assortment of pots and pans and the aromas, he had no words.

  “Am I about to learn that you’re a Cordon Bleu chef?”

  Alyx glanced up from the cutting board where she was chopping spinach. “Hardly. But ever since I had my own place—I mean after law school and everything—when the workload got progressively heavier, I discovered that it was soothing to me to spend time in the kitchen. It’s not something I get to do often enough, but since I spend most of my holidays alone—”

  “Do you?” Jonas searched his memory banks and came up short. “I thought your parents were still alive?”

  “Why?” she asked with a sardonic glance. “Because I’ve injected them into my conversations so much?”

  She’d been doing a good deal of thinking while at the market, Jonas concluded, and was planning to put space between them again. “No, wise guy, because you’re so young.”

  The knife paused a second over the spinach before she went back to chopping. “You are a breath of fresh air. Sleep well?”

  Grateful for her quick thinking in avoiding yet another clash, he toasted her with his glass—whether she noticed that or not. “I did. Thank you for strong-arming me. It looks like you’ve been busy. What are we having? It sure smells great.”

  “Spinach enchiladas.”

  “Mexican cuisine I’ve had. Spinach enchiladas…what’s that, toss the cow and replace it with rabbit food?”

  “It was adapted for vegetarians, but you can mix in meat or beans, use cheddar instead of Monterey Jack…it’s delicious, Jonas. You won’t be disappointed.”

  She spoke with such enthusiasm, he settled onto the nearest bar stool content to watch—and listen. “I’m sure it will be,” he said. “Tell me more.”

  “About dinner?”


  “Anything you want to share.”

  For a moment she pursed her lips. “For the record? My mother died five years ago in her sleep. I think after losing my brother, she lost heart—and whatever feelings she had for my father.”

  That one he hadn’t expected. “She was very young.”

  “Barely fifty-six.”

  “Sad. That must have made things between you and your father all the more difficult. Do you keep in touch with him?”

  With the slightest shake of her head, Alyx replied, “After a few awkward attempts, we both decided a break was needed.”

  “That’s understandable. And now?”

  “Status quo?” Alyx paused and stared at one of the back-splash tiles displaying a colorful array of chili peppers. “I think it’s a lucky thing if we can recognize when it’s healthier to stop ingesting poisonous relationships as though we’re chain-smokers, or trying to mold people into our vision for them. Not everything can be cured with love, any more than it can be subdued through dominance—and who wants to be the caretakers of that swill if it happens?”

  As soon as that tidy speech was delivered, Alyx glanced over her shoulder as though wondering, “Did I just say that?”

  “It’s the Alyx Carmel that first bowled me over in her office,” he replied with an admiring smile. “You’re a passionate woman. It’s only natural that your opinions are, too.”

  She burst into laughter. “I know a few dozen people who would agree with that.”

  Jonas found that a rare and enjoyable sound. “You need to laugh more.”

  Carrying the pan to the island where he was sitting, she began to construct the enchiladas. “No doubt, but I’m not in the right business for being lighthearted.” Taking a sip of her wine, she added, “What about your family? Who’s left?”

  “My son, Blake. He splits holidays between Claudia and me. Once school is in summer break, we try to spend two weeks together traveling.”

  “Camping?”

  “No, Blake requires electrical access. He’s not happy without his laptop and other gizmos.”