Tall, Dark & Western

by Anne Marie Winston

  Juliette couldn’t prevent a smile. He hadn’t deliberately decided not to call! “It’s all right. But I’d appreciate the call in future if you can remember.”

  He glanced down at her as they moved through the house, and his face registered apprehension. “Did Cheyenne give you fits today?”

  The feel of his long frame towering over her was doing funny things to her system, but she forced herself to pay attention to what he was saying. “No. We got along pretty well. She was a little testy before dinner but I think she was hungry.”

  He nodded, and she could almost feel the relief in his tone. “That’s good.” He didn’t say anything more as they mounted the stairs, but when she made a move to leave at the bedroom door, he held on to her. “Come talk to me while I put on dry clothes.”

  She hesitated, but there was really no reason she could give for her reluctance. And she didn’t really even know why she felt reluctant to start with. She was his wife now. So she went in with him and pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged on the bed while he got out fresh clothing. Inky leaped up and lay beside her and she held her breath, sure Marty would object, but if he even noticed the dog, he didn’t say anything.

  It felt odd, being in the bedroom with him, and the butterflies that his presence always inspired were alive and well in her stomach. He started to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers still weren’t working easily. She slipped off the bed and walked to him. “Can I help?”

  “Thanks.” He dropped his arms and stood quietly as she lifted her hands to the top button and began to work her way down.

  He was so much taller than she, even in his bare feet, that her eyes were nearly level with his shirt buttons. The butterflies flew up in a big cloud and started churning around in her stomach and her fingers fumbled with the buttons. She didn’t dare look up at him and kept her eyes on her task. The room was silent except for their breathing.

  Arousal and excitement formed a knot in her belly and her pulse suddenly was racing, rocketing through her body like a raft in a whitewater stretch of river. She took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves, telling herself to stop acting like a silly virgin. All she was doing was helping her husband with a difficult task.

  Her fingers traveled down over the buttons until she reached his belt. She hesitated for a moment, then set her hands on the buckle and opened it, slipping it free of his belt loops. His hands came up and he tugged the shirt free of his jeans. She unbuttoned the last few buttons, trying not to notice the hard male body beneath the layers of fabric.

  His breathing seemed labored and harsh. Wordlessly he held up his forearms and she unbuttoned the cuffs. Then she stepped back as he shucked off the shirt. Beneath it he wore a navy-blue thermal shirt and he quickly tore that off over his head.

  She took another step back, toward the door, as a primitive female vulnerability coursed through her and she forgot about being silly. The need to escape was overwhelming, but as she looked up into his blazing blue eyes, she froze. His gaze was hot as he looked down her body, lingering on the swell of her breasts and the vee at her thighs. He covered the distance between them in one stride, muttering, “Juliette.”

  “Marty, wait.”

  But if he even heard her he gave no sign as his mouth came down on hers. Her palms landed solidly against the steely planes of his chest and as his lips settled on hers, she was aware of nothing but Marty’s big body and the love that welled up inside her for this man, this husband about whom she needed to learn so much.

  His mouth was warm and firm, demanding, slanting over hers while his arms came around her, pulling her into hot, sizzling contact with his hard frame. Juliette sighed into his mouth, an aching, needy whimper that caused his arms to draw her even closer. His tongue sought hers, and with no hesitation she gave him what he wanted, twining her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through his thick, gold-tipped curls, shaping his skull with small, restless fingers.

  Marty shifted his grip on her, sliding one hand firmly down her back to cup her bottom. He changed the angle of his mouth, groaning as he pushed himself forward, spreading her legs wide with his big body and pressing himself firmly against her. “I want you,” he panted. “Now.”

  She tore her mouth from his. “The door—”

  And he was gone. In two strides he reached the door, then turned and pointed at Inky. “Out.”

  As soon as the dog was through the door, he shut and locked it, and in two more strides he was back with her, pulling her with him to the bed. He tore back the quilt and sheets, then turned to her again, his fingers shaking as his big hands moved gently over her body, tugging off her sweater and the turtleneck she wore beneath.

  He stopped then, her shirt dropping from his fingers as his hungry gaze devoured her, and she suddenly felt as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. She took a deep breath and his gaze was riveted to her breasts, covered only by a lacy blue bra.

  He laughed, deep in his throat. “I might change my mind about the color blue.” Then he raised his hands and cupped her shoulders, and she gasped at the icy feel of his fingers on her skin.

  He pulled her against him again, breast to chest, and she no longer noticed the chill.

  Then he took her hands and placed them at the button of his jeans. “Help me,” he said. She did, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Then she unfastened her own while he was stepping out of his and removing his socks, doing the same with her own clothing.

  When he looked up again, she heard the breath he sucked in, and she was suddenly, fiercely glad she’d worn the pretty matching thong that went with the bra.

  He swallowed, and she watched the movement of his strong, tanned throat. “Juliette,” he said hoarsely, “you’re going to give me a heart attack.” He put his still-cold hands on her hips and pulled her to him, and she gasped at both the cold and the intimacy as he slid his palms back and down over her naked buttocks. “Are these from your fancy store?”

  She nodded, smiling as her lips touched his chest. He was the hardest man she’d ever met in every way there was. His arms bulged, and his back was roped with thick muscle on either side of the hollow of his spine. His chest was a solid sheet of unyielding man beneath the mat of dark curl, giving way to a flat, ridged stomach and firm, hairy thighs. He was, she thought with dreamy pleasure, every woman’s imaginary lover.

  And he was hers.

  Was he ever. Beneath the white briefs he still wore, the outline of his arousal jutted against the fabric in a way that left her in no doubt about how he was feeling. He bent and lifted her effortlessly to the bed, but before he joined her, he hooked his thumbs in her tiny panties and stripped them down and off. “You’ll have to unhook your bra,” he said.

  As she moved to comply, his hand settled possessively over the triangle of silvery curls between her legs. She gasped again at the coolness of his hand, but she didn’t try to move away, lying motionless as his eyes roved up and down her body.

  She remembered what Silver had said about his first wife, and she had a moment’s sudden doubt. She was so small she didn’t really even need a bra for support. Her hands came up almost automatically and crossed over her breasts, and Marty’s eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t,” he said. “I want to see all of you.” Deliberately he removed his hand from her and took off his briefs in one smooth motion. He turned to the bedside table and withdrew a small packet from the drawer, fitting its contents over his thick length, and she gulped, her mouth dry and her pulse racing. He wanted her, there was no doubt of that. But if Rob had been quite so…impressive, her memory didn’t recall it, and she moved restlessly, an uneasy fear taking root.

  Marty read the expression on her face, and his arms came around her as he slid onto the bed and pulled her to him. She gasped as he pressed boldly into the soft mound of her belly. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be all right.”

  “That’s e-easy for you to say,” she gasped, and he chuckled, pushing his hips against her. He roll
ed her beneath him, pressing wild, hot kisses to her face as he settled himself between her thighs. His whole big body was shaking with need, and his hands cruised over her, pebbling her nipples as the sensitive peaks responded to his stroking. She wrapped her arms as far around him as she could reach, stunned and overwhelmed by the rightness of the feel of him. She couldn’t remember anything of Rob anymore, all she could think of was Marty, and she arched upward against him, silently pleading for his claiming.

  He took her mouth again in a sure, strong kiss, thrusting his tongue deep and groaning when she responded in kind. His hand slid between them and a small part of her was amazed that he no longer felt chilled. Then his fingers slipped down into the soft folds of her body and she felt a single, hard finger probing. She whimpered, lifting herself against his hand and he pressed the butt of his palm against her as his finger slid deep within. He made small circles with his palm and she shook helplessly, a cry wrenched from her throat as the waves of pleasure rose over her and her body tensed with desire.

  He withdrew his hand and she felt a sudden, intimate probe of blunt male flesh replacing it. He kept his mouth on hers as he moved his hips steadily forward, sliding easily into her for a moment. Then her body refused to admit him.

  They both stopped moving, shocked and surprised.

  “I…it’s been a long time—” she got out.

  “You had a baby. That changes things,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

  She gulped, clutching at his back as sensation ebbed and flowed within her. “I don’t care. Do it now.”

  He hesitated for a moment, rearing up to look down at her. Then, holding himself on his elbows above her, he kept her gaze ensnared by his as he shoved into her, pressing on.

  She gasped and turned her face into his shoulder.

  Marty shuddered. “You’re so tight—” He stopped speaking, and his hips plunged into her, measuring himself again and then again. With each movement he rubbed against her, igniting the sensual fires that coiled within her belly. “Mine,” he muttered. “My angel…” His body moved harder and faster; he reached down and pulled her thighs up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, whimpering as he doubled his cadence. She strained against him, loving his primitive claiming, feeling the rising surge of undeniable pleasure—and then her body broke free of her control and she arched beneath him, her body tightening repeatedly as she found release. A shiver worked its way up Marty’s spine, and he groaned as her fingers clutched at him. Then he stiffened above her, his hips pumping relentlessly until the power of his climax slowly, gradually decreased and he gave a final groan and collapsed. He rolled over immediately, taking her with him so that she lay over him like a blanket, her legs draped around his hips, her arms around his neck. After a moment, his hands stroked up and down her spine.

  And then he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” She yawned. She could go right to sleep, just like the kids.

  “I’m not cold anymore,” he told her. “I’ll have to remember this. You’re better than an electric blanket.”

  “Thanks, I think,” she said. She felt relaxed and easy with him, though a part of her yearned for intimate conversation and whispered words of love. Those wouldn’t be forthcoming, though, she knew, her spirits sinking. She was a warm body to him, a mother-housekeeper-bedwarmer all rolled into one convenient, easy-to-use package.

  The air in the room suddenly seemed cooler, and she shivered. Marty reached down and flipped the blankets over them both. His hands continued to rove idly over her back and bottom, but the pleasure was gone and she lay on him, her heart heavy.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was hesitant. “You’re so little and delicate and I’m—”

  “I’m fine.”

  Without warning he rolled again, pinning her beneath him. He held her face in his hands when she would have turned it away, and she closed her eyes to avoid his probing gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Other than the fact that I love you.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She did, reluctantly. She’d have to remember to be careful in the future. He was surprisingly tuned in to her moods.

  “Juliette…” He hesitated. “I—”

  A sound floated into the room…a crying baby. Bobby. He wasn’t really wailing yet, but she knew he was awake and lonely. Immediately she stiffened, beginning to slide off him, but he held her in place despite her struggles.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Bobby’s awake,” she said. “He’ll be hungry after his nap.”

  Marty’s grip didn’t relax for a long moment, and she had a sudden, ridiculous fear that he wasn’t going to let her go to her child. Then he withdrew his hands, letting her scramble from the warmth of their lovemaking. “Then go.”

  His voice was almost sulky, like a child’s, and she said, “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing.” He sat up and ran his hands through his hair and his fingers clenched against his scalp as Bobby’s fussing increased in volume. “Would you just go shut that baby up?”

  “Marty, he’s a baby. He doesn’t understand—”

  “I said go, didn’t I?” His voice was irritable now. “I’m not trying to stop you.”

  She hurriedly dressed without speaking again, fighting tears. Then she remembered dinner. “I have a plate in the oven for you,” she informed him, casting him a single glance as she left the room.

  Part of her wanted to scream at his seeming callousness, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Marty was a good man. His actions around her son only proved how deeply he was hurting. Would this ever get easier for him? She’d do anything in the world to help him past it, except give up Bobby.

  And that, she thought, with a sudden, sickening flash of intuition, was probably the one thing she could do that would ease the strain that continually crept back in between them.

  If he’d known that she came with a baby, he would never have married her.

  But even as he had the thought, Marty knew it wasn’t true. He would probably do it all over again even if she’d had two babies, because he wanted her so badly. Even now, still lying where he’d taken her, he was ready again just thinking about her tiny, perfectly made body, her rosy nipples and delicate mound of blond curls, the surprising strength in the slim legs that had twined about his waist and drawn him deeper into her—

  He cursed and rolled out of the bed, stalking across the room to the bathroom, erect and aching. What in hell was he going to do?

  He showered, his mood still dark, dressed and went downstairs to eat. Juliette was in the kitchen already. She had a warm dinner ready for him and he grunted his thanks. The kid was in his little seat on the counter again, and though Juliette had tactfully turned the cradle away, he could see an occasional little hand or foot flailing in the air as the kid wriggled and squirmed. He couldn’t force himself to ignore the baby, sneaking glances over at the seat repeatedly. Every now and then the kid would coo or squeal and Marty couldn’t help flinching at the small sounds.

  The instant he was done, he took his dishes to the sink and then turned away from the kitchen. “I’ll be in the office.”

  As he walked through the living room, he had to step over toys and games spread across the floor. Inky lay on the couch in the middle of an afghan as if he owned it. The house had never looked like this when Lora was alive and he’d done his best—which admittedly was pretty pathetic—after she’d died to keep it picked up. He’d expected things to be better after Juliette arrived.

  Then he realized Juliette had come to stand behind him. “She’s precious,” she said, and he realized she was talking about Cheyenne. “And very, very bright. I’m finding that the best way to keep her out of trouble is to keep her busy.”

  “This place is a wreck,” he said, completely ignoring her words. He pointed to the child-induced chaos in the living room. “I married you to fix this, not make it worse.”

&nb
sp; Her face lost every ounce of the pretty color it had held since she’d come downstairs. Her eyes were huge and dark, and he could see the hurt in their depths.

  He felt small and mean, and he put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said belatedly. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  She raised her eyebrows, and when her eyes met his again, there was absolutely no expression that he could read. She didn’t say a word, simply pulled her arm from beneath his hand, then knelt and began picking up the pieces of a game, ignoring him until he walked on into the office.

  It wasn’t until he came back into the kitchen for more coffee that he noticed something was different. And then he realized what it was. The kitchen was spotless. The curtains and rugs were clean; the counters held nothing but the normal things that were kept on them unless you counted the baby seat; the cupboards and refrigerator actually had space to set items in empty spots; and the floor had lost its dingy gray tone and actually shone.

  “Wow,” he said. “I didn’t notice this before. You must have worked in here all day.”

  “I didn’t neglect your daughter,” she said, and he realized she was still mad at him for his tactless comments earlier.

  “I didn’t think you would,” he said.

  Juliette didn’t answer him and there was an awkward silence for a moment. Then she spoke again, but it wasn’t the personal conversation he wanted.

  “May I use the phone?”

  “Of course. This is your home.”

  “It’s a long-distance call.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Unless you’re planning to spend hours on the phone to Japan every day, I don’t have a problem with you making the calls you need to make.” He was dying to know who she was calling. It drove him crazy that he knew so little about her he didn’t even know who she cared enough about to place a long-distance call to, but he went into the living room and turned on the news to give her a little privacy.