Shades of a Desperado

by Sharon Sala

  As if she’d done this all her life, Rachel locked her hands behind his neck and pulled his head down until there was nothing between them but a hurt waiting to be healed.

  Boone could hardly think, yet there were things that had to be said.

  “I want you, Rachel. I’m going to make love to you, and once I start, I won’t stop.” He didn’t want to do it, but he took a deep breath and gave her an out. “If you don’t want the same thing, tell me now.”

  He could feel the tension winding in her body like the springs of a clock. Her whisper brushed past his face, settling deep in his soul. It was the last thing that either of them said.

  “Oh, God, Boone MacDonald, just don’t let me go.”

  There was a trail of clothing on the floor, scattered from the kitchen down the hall to the end of her bed. The covers were torn back, with fresh sheets exposed. Completely revealed, Rachel lay waiting, her skin burning from the fiery sweep of his mouth, as he tossed the last of his clothes aside. He came to her without words or excuse, wasting no time in foreplay or sweet whispers and lies. And when he moved between her legs and drove himself deep inside, there was an intensity of feeling Rachel couldn’t deny. She’d known all along what this ride would be like.

  Once he was inside her, Boone paused, his jaw clenched, muscles jerking in his arms as he raised himself up to look down at her face. He never wanted to forget the way she looked making love.

  Passion gave a sultry expression to Rachel’s face. Her eyes were hooded, as if she were waking from a deep, restful sleep. Her eyelashes fluttered like butterflies in the wind. Her neck was arched, her lips were slightly parted, and with each soft gasp of air she inhaled, she clutched him tight, for fear he would disappear like the man from her dreams.

  He groaned, then bent down, his mouth only inches from her damp, swollen lips. Rolling his hips against her belly, he moved himself deeper inside.

  “Look at me, Rachel. Look at me.”

  She sighed and then shuddered, trying to do as he asked, but his face kept blurring in and out of her sight. From Dakota to Boone, from Boone to Dakota, as if she were looking into a bad mirror in a carnival sideshow.

  The urge to move was coming upon him like a powerful wave. But he wanted her to know, when she fell over the edge of reason, that it was because he’d sent her there.

  Resting his weight on his elbows, he put a hand on either side of her face and pulled her focus toward him. Centering her gaze so that she saw nothing but his face, he started to rock. For a brief span, time stood still.

  Thoughts tumbled, one after the other, from her to him, from him to her. They read them in each other’s eyes. Saw them in each other’s faces.

  She was soft where he was hard, giving against his need to take, gentle when he was strong. She filled him, completed him.

  Watching a man like Boone come undone in her arms was, for Rachel, more than a joy. It was at once a satisfaction and a pleasure, knowing that she’d been made for this... for him. And of that she had no doubt. In spite of what and who he was now, they belonged.

  Flesh against flesh, their bodies hammering with an unfinished need, Rachel felt the end beginning and knew a quick moment of relief. Soon, soon, it would happen. It had to. A woman could withstand only so much sweet pain. Mesmerized by the power of the man above her, Rachel couldn’t look away. Making love with him was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  And then it came upon her, a rush of blood, a pounding heart, a blinding flash. When she would have closed her eyes from the pleasure, he wouldn’t let her go to that place all alone.

  And then it was over.

  Spent and shaking, they lay in each other’s arms and cherished the loving they had shared. Rachel exhaled softly and closed her eyes, only now aware that she’d been crying.

  He heard her sigh and lifted his hand to her cheek. It came away wet. With a groan, he pulled her closer, pillowing his head on her breast The security of her heartbeat, the satin feel of her skin, all were a balm to a lonely soul.

  Just before his eyes closed in sleep, the last lines of the song he’d heard earlier drifted into his mind. It gave him comfort to think that maybe it wasn’t too late for him after all. He’d let her love him...even better, he’d let himself return that love. Maybe he would be the exception to the rule. Maybe this desperado could find the way to a good woman’s heart.

  Dawn was imminent when Boone slipped out of bed. He dressed as he’d undressed last night. Room by room, item by item, taking his clothes from the floor as he went. His boots were the last to be put on. Last night they’d been the first to go. But when he was dressed, he found it wasn’t as easy to walk out as it had been to come in. He went back to her room, then stood in the doorway, watching her sleep.

  He’d made tangles of her hair. Her shoulder was bare, a reminder that he’d taken everything from her last night, including her clothes.

  When she was asleep, the animation that was so much a part of her face was missing. Only now, while she was still, was he fully aware of her near-perfect features and heartshaped face. He looked at her, and his breath caught from the intensity of his feelings.

  Last night he’d been swept away by passion. Today his mind was clear, his focus intent. He’d thought he knew about love, but that had been before Rachel. He’d never known that love could hurt so deeply, or heal so completely. The bond between them was more than he’d expected, and not enough to count on. How was she going to feel in the bright light of day? Would she be sorry? And, what was worse...even if she was sorry, he couldn’t wait around to see.

  Taking a pad and pencil from her bedside table, he scribbled a note and dropped it on the pillow. Resisting the urge for a goodbye kiss, he walked out of the house without looking back.

  By the time he got home, the sun was just coming up over the horizon. He entered the trailer with no small amount of regret. Going from her place to his was like walking out of the light into the dark. It was a rude reminder of who he still had to be.

  Rachel woke up one eye at a time, stretching slowly as she rolled over on her back. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept this soundly or felt as refreshed. She glanced at the clock and groaned. It was almost 10:00 a.m. She yawned, and as she did, she realized her lower lip felt tight. Tracing her finger against the edge, she winced, and then the reason for its condition slammed into her with force. Boone! Ravaging her mouth...her body...her soul.

  “Oh, my God!”

  She sat up in bed. Last night, and everything that had happened, came back to her in a rush.

  Her pink gown was still hanging on the closet door by a hook. She’d never put it on. Her clothes were all over the floor. There was nothing between her and God but a white cotton sheet...and Boone was nowhere in sight.

  The fact that he was gone was multiplied a hundredfold by the fact that he hadn’t bothered to say goodbye. And then she saw the note lying on the pillow and picked it up. It was brief. But the message was more than she’d expected from a man like Boone.

  Vaya con Dios, Rachel, till we meet again.

  She fell back on her pillow, clutching the note to her breast.

  Till we meet again. It was all she needed to know.

  Rachel came down off the mountain with a purpose in mind. She wanted to know more about the man with whom she was falling in love, and that wasn’t going to happen if they wound up in bed as quickly as they had last night. Not, she reminded herself, that she didn’t want to be there again.

  There were other things they could do in between. She desperately wanted to find out more about him and, in doing so, get some much-needed answers about herself, as well. But she had no idea how to go about finding him or finding out, so she let the thought ride.

  Shopping. She could shop for food. She didn’t know a man who wouldn’t slow down for a home-cooked meal. Her mind was filled with thoughts of how she could get him to unwind.

  Yet by the time she’d wheeled an empty shopping cart up and dow
n the aisles for a good fifteen minutes without making a single choice, the headway she’d planned to make was nowhere in sight.

  As bad luck would have it, Joanie came up aisle two as Rachel was going down. For some reason, she feared Joanie would be able to see the change in her. Rachel shifted gears, trying to think of meat and potatoes instead of Boone MacDonald, and hoped her expression wouldn’t give her away.

  Joanie parked herself near the canned peas and carrots and pointed to Rachel’s empty cart.

  “Hi, girl. I see you’re just starting.”

  “Sort of,” Rachel said. “I didn’t make a list. Can’t remember what I needed.”

  “Don’t you hate it when that happens?”

  Rachel nodded and started to smile, but the cut on her lip pulled, causing her to wince instead.

  Joanie being Joanie didn’t miss a thing, from the glow in Rachel’s eyes to the small bruise Boone’s loving had left on her lip. Her eyebrows rose as her eyes began to twinkle. “So...I guess it’s pretty lonesome up there on the mountain all by yourself.”

  Joanie’s drawl didn’t fool Rachel one bit. I should have known. She gave her friend a cool, unwavering glare. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you to mind your own business?”

  Joanie scooted closer until they were head to head. “I don’t suppose it would,” she drawled. “Now, fess up. Who’s got your head in a whirl? Don’t tell me you’ve made up with Griff?”

  Rachel frowned. “We didn’t ever fight, so we had nothing to make up.”

  “But I thought... Then, if you never...” Joanie sighed. “Just tell me this. He’s handsome. He’s solvent. He’s single. What was wrong with him?”

  “Nothing was wrong with him,” Rachel muttered, and took off down the aisle.

  Joanie cut her off at the milk case. For once, the giggle was gone from her voice. “Don’t do this, Rachel. You’re scaring me, okay? First you ask me if I believe in you-know-what .... ” She glanced over her shoulder, making certain there was no one in sight, although she’d never said the word reincarnation aloud. “You said nothing was wrong with Griff, which means you think something might be wrong with you, instead.” Joanie grabbed her by the arm, her face full of concern, and all but pinned Rachel to the milk case as she waited for an answer. “Well ... I’m waiting.”

  But Rachel didn’t answer. She was looking over Joanie’s shoulder to the aisle beyond, at the tall, dark man who was sauntering down the aisle with a loaf of bread dangling from one hand and a three-liter bottle of pop in the other.

  His hair was windblown, his black jeans were soft and faded. He wore a dark blue T-shirt and a black denim jacket. His boots were worn and dusty, as if he’d been out in the woods, and from the way he was walking, he’d seen her long before she spotted him.

  It was Boone.

  There was no expression on his face, but his eyes were alive with a message she couldn’t misinterpret.

  Remember last night?

  How could I forget?

  It didn’t take Joanie long to realize that she’d lost her friend’s attention. Rachel had a faraway look in her eyes, and a smile on her lips that shouldn’t have been there.

  “So, you think what I just said was funny, do you?”

  To her surprise, Rachel still didn’t answer, and judging from the way she was staring over Joanie’s shoulder, she’d completely forgotten Joanie was here. She spun around, ready to attack.

  “I’d like to know what’s so all-fired interesting behind my—” Joanie took a deep breath. The answer was literally staring her in the face. “Oh...my... Gawd.”

  It only lasted a few seconds, but within that space of time, Rachel felt as if all the bones in her body had just turned to mush. Before she could think what to say, Boone turned a corner and disappeared up another aisle.

  Joanie grabbed her by the arm, and this time she had Rachel’s full attention. “Please, Rachel, tell me that didn’t mean what I thought it meant.”

  Rachel winced at the fear in Joanie’s voice. But what on earth could she say that would make any sense? “I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered, and looked away.

  “Is he why you dumped Griffin Ross?”

  “No,” Rachel said. “He came after.”

  Joanie exhaled slowly. “Then there is something between you two?”

  Rachel looked up, but she didn’t have to answer. The truth was there for Joanie to see.

  “Oh, honey, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said softly.

  Rachel sighed as she looked in the direction Boone had gone. “That’s just it, Joanie,” she said, her voice quiet and shaking. “I don’t have a clue, yet in spite of how this may seem, it still feels right.”

  Joanie shook her head and started to walk away when Rachel called out, “Joanie, you won’t say any...”

  There was a look of high indignation on Joanie’s face. “I can’t believe you felt the need to ask.”

  You can’t believe it? I can’t believe I’ve put myself in the position of having to ask.

  “Thank you,” Rachel said.

  “You’re welcome,” Joanie replied, and left Rachel standing.

  Rachel shoved her cart forward, but didn’t get very far. She was so shaken that for a few minutes all she did was stare blindly at a display of fruits and vegetables. She didn’t know anyone was behind her until a low, husky voice whispered near her ear, “What’s the matter, lady, can’t you make up your mind?”

  She jumped, but she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Boone was back.

  She glanced over her shoulder just long enough to confirm her suspicions. “You’re making me crazy,” she snapped.

  He grinned. “Welcome to the club, darlin’,” he said, and dropped a pint of out-of-season strawberries in her cart. “These look good, don’t you think? Sweet and juicy... but not too soft. Just firm enough to sink your teeth right into.”

  A chill ran up Rachel’s spine that had nothing to do with fright. She stared down at the strawberries, thinking of what he’d said—and the way he’d said it.

  Ignoring Rachel’s slight state of shock, Boone picked up a long, dark green cucumber, hefting it in his hands as if testing it for length and weight.

  “Hey, how about one of these? It feels just about right. Plenty long and smooth... and firm. They have to be firm, or the dish is ruined. Here, what do you think?”

  Before Rachel could answer, he tossed it toward her. She caught the cucumber in midair, then looked up at him in shock. There was a grin on his face she couldn’t believe.

  “So,” he asked. “Do you think it’s hard enough?”

  If it had been a rat, she couldn’t have been any more shocked by it. She dropped it into the basket. It landed next to the strawberries, then rolled into a corner.

  By now, her face was definitely flushed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should make a run for the door, but there was a part of her that was far too intrigued by this man to do anything but see what came next.

  Boone moved down the display case, sorting and feeling. “Say, the celery looks good. You know how to pick the best?”

  Rachel had no idea, but from the way Boone was grinning, it was plain he was about to let her know.

  “See the leaves on the end of the stalk?”

  Her gaze moved up the stalk as if magnetized.

  Boone held the stalk upside down, dangling the celery like a baited hook over a pond full of fish. Unbeknownst to her, Rachel’s eyes were widening and her lips was slightly agape.

  “What I always do is dangle this over my hand...sort of like a feather duster... see?”

  Rachel saw.

  “Sometimes the leaves will be all soft and limp. That means you need to put that stalk back. But if the leaves feel crisp, and the sensation makes your toes curl in your shoes, then that means...”

  Rachel snatched the celery out of his hand and slapped it in her basket. “For God’s sake, Boone, what are you trying to�
�?”

  “Oh, wow! Look here,” he said, and grabbed her cart, pulling her farther down the aisle to the end, where a large display of oranges had been arranged.

  These look safe enough, Rachel thought. She was wrong.

  He took one off the top of the pile and tossed it up in the air a time or two, like a baseball, as if getting the feel of it in his hand.

  “Now, choosing these is completely opposite of the rest of the stuff we have in the basket.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Rachel muttered.

  Boone looked at her and winked. “Pay attention, woman. You might learn something.”

  All I have to do is take control of this situation and he’ll stop. But that meant she would have to leave him, and there was a great big piece of Rachel Brant that knew she didn’t ever want to leave this man again.

  “Unlike other fruits, which need to be firm to be good, an orange should have plenty of juice and plenty of flavor.” He held it under her nose, offering it up to be smelled. “Even if it smells like an orange, it could still be a fake.” There was an odd tilt to the corner of his lips. “You can’t be too careful about fakes, you know.”

  Rachel couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.

  “The true test is to squeeze it.”

  She watched as Boone wrapped his long fingers around the fleshy orange globe and then, ever so slowly, began tightening them. Her heart jerked as she remembered last night and the feel of his hands as he’d cupped her hips, tilting her body up to meet his advance.

  She swallowed nervously as his voice lowered. When it was just above a whisper, she caught herself leaning forward, anxious not to miss a single word of his lecture.

  Boone continued, well aware that he had his one and only student... and the orange...in the palm of his hand.

  “But you can’t be sure with just one squeeze. Sometimes you have to squeeze it over and over and...”

  Rachel groaned.

  Boone swallowed a chuckle and dropped the single orange into her cart.