About That Man

by Sherryl Woods

  Daisy was standing at the kitchen counter, up to her elbows in dough and flour, when she realized that Walker was standing at the back door. Her heart slipped into over-drive just as it always did.

  “Where did you come from? It’s only Thursday, and it’s barely four o’clock. I just got home from school a half hour ago.”

  He stepped into the kitchen without a word. Daisy took one look at his haggard face and wiped off her hands.

  “Sit,” she said. “I’ll get you some lemonade.”

  “A beer would be better.”

  “Start with the lemonade, then we’ll discuss the beer afterward.”

  He scowled at her. “Do you always have to be the boss?”

  “I spent a lot of time around three mule-headed men. My temperament comes naturally.”

  His lips curved slightly at that. “Yes, I can see how growing up around King could do that to a person.” He nodded. “Fine. I’ll take the lemonade.”

  She handed him the drink in a glass filled with ice, grabbed the tray of cookies she’d just taken from the oven and put some on a plate. Walker’s smile spread when she set those in front of him.

  “Do you think food’s a cure for everything?”

  “No, but it’s a fine start,” she said.

  That lost, lonely look swept across his face again. “In this instance, I can think of something that would help more.”

  “What?” she said at once.

  He beckoned to her. “Come here.”

  Her pulse ricocheted wildly, but she didn’t even hesitate. She walked up until she was standing right in front of him.

  “Closer,” he said.

  “Walker, I can’t—”

  The protest died when he tumbled her into his lap. Before her head stopped spinning, his mouth was on hers, hot and hungry and demanding in a way it never had been before. There was something dark and dangerous to this kiss, something urgent. Her breath snagged in her throat and a white-hot flame spiraled through her.

  Then his hand was on her breast and something deep inside her melted. She could feel the liquid heat spreading low through her body, reminding her of sweet, wicked sensations she’d all but forgotten. If he stopped now, if he pulled away as he had in the past, she would have to kill him, she decided.

  “Where’s Tommy?” he asked, his voice ragged.

  “Out fishing with Bobby. They just left a few minutes ago. They won’t be home for hours.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured fervently, then stood and aimed for the stairs on powerful legs that ate up the distance in a few strides.

  Cradled against Walker’s chest, Daisy prayed that he would get to his room or hers before reason kicked in and told her to start asking questions. She had no idea what had brought this on, why he was suddenly turning to her in a way he’d insisted was a lousy idea, but she didn’t want him to change his mind. Right or wrong, good idea or bad, she wanted this. Needed it. She needed to feel like a desirable woman again, to know that she hadn’t died just because she was all dried up and barren inside. And she wanted Walker, this man she had come to trust and admire, to be the one to prove it.

  He headed straight for her room, then kicked the door closed behind him, before allowing her to slide down his body until her feet touched the floor.

  “If you have any doubts about this, tell me now,” he said, his fingers tender against her cheek, his eyes stormy with some dark emotion Daisy couldn’t read.

  “No doubts,” she said at once, and reached for the bottom edge of his polo shirt and began tugging it over his head. That bare chest, with its swirl of dark hair that had been taunting her for weeks now, was totally exposed in all its masculine glory. She slid her palms over the warm skin, felt it heat, then found the dark male nipples and circled them with her nails.

  The muscles in his throat worked, but he didn’t try to stop her. But when she reached for the buckle on his belt, he put his hand over hers.

  “Not just yet. Let’s even things up a little.”

  He worked the buttons on her blouse free, but unlike her, he went about it slowly, patiently, taking his time easing the opening apart, then letting his gaze linger on the lacy scrap of a bra that covered her breasts. Daisy could feel her nipples swell and tighten under the intensity of his scrutiny. She desperately wanted him to touch her—with his hands, with his mouth—but all he did was stare with that amazing look of wonder and yearning in his eyes.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he eased the blouse off her shoulders, then flicked the clasp of her bra with a single, practiced motion. When he scooped her breasts into his hands, then covered first one nipple and then the other with his mouth, her knees almost buckled from the incredible, dizzying sensation that swept through her.

  Then suddenly slow, sweet torture turned to a frenzied stripping away of the rest of their clothes. He scooped her up, then settled onto her bed, straddling her, his eyes locked with hers. She could feel the tip of his hot, hard arousal pressing against her and her hips automatically jerked upward, trying to connect with him in the way her body was urgently demanding.

  “Not just yet,” he whispered again, and began a slow exploration of her body with clever fingers, and kisses that stirred the most astonishing sensations in places she’d never imagined being responsive.

  Writhing and slick with sweat, she wanted him inside her, wanted him to fill her and take her the rest of the way on this restless, wondrous journey.

  “Please,” she whispered, her voice husky with need. “Walker, I want you. Please. Now.”

  “Now,” he agreed at last.

  When he pulled a condom out of his pocket, she bit back a cry of protest. She didn’t want anything between them, not even that, especially since he was protecting her against an impossibility. But explaining that would slow things down, perhaps stop them altogether, so she said nothing.

  With quick, effortless movements he slipped it on, then held himself poised above her until she thought the anticipation alone would drive her wild.

  His fingers slid inside her, tormenting her, teasing, then withdrawing just when she neared the edge. And then he was really inside, stretching her, filling her. Slow, tormenting strokes. Fast, frenzied, relentless strokes. Just when her body adjusted to one rhythm, he changed until she was off-kilter and verging on out of control.

  She wanted…she needed…something. Oh, sweet heaven, she thought as she reached yet another peak, then tumbled over, muscles contracting in delicious spasms, her body free-falling through time and space as Walker’s own climax rocked through him.

  The only sounds in the room were her ragged breaths and his, with the distant, smooth hum of the air-conditioning as a counterpoint. The musky scent of sex was everywhere, on him, on her, on the sheets. Daisy decided she might not wash them for a month, if it meant she would be able to remember the wonder of this moment.

  Walker heaved a sigh, then rolled onto his back, carrying her with him until she was sprawled across his chest, her head resting under his chin. She wanted to look into his eyes, to see if they reflected the same turmoil that was bound to be in hers, but he kept her snugly trapped, his fingers tangled in her hair.

  “I think you’ve destroyed me,” he whispered eventually.

  Daisy caught herself smiling.

  Walker chuckled. “It’s not something to be proud of. I might never move again.”

  His arousal stirred to life against her thigh, proving him very wrong.

  “Never mind,” he said, laughter threading through his voice. “My mistake.”

  Daisy reached for him, stroking until he was hard. “You think this is a mistake?” she teased.

  “Just a surprise,” he said.

  “You didn’t want me to pretend I didn’t notice, did you?”

  “Oh, no.” He stretched his arms above his head. “Do whatever you’d like about it.”

  So she did, feeling as if something had broken free inside her, as if after years and years of doubt, she wa
s suddenly, gloriously alive again, in touch with her sexuality in a way she’d never expected to experience.

  Later, Walker opened his mouth and started what sounded like the beginnings of an apology or maybe a litany of regrets and admonitions. Daisy cut him off.

  “This was what it was,” she said firmly. “I will not regret it for one single second, and neither should you.”

  “But I can’t make you any promises.”

  “I don’t expect any.”

  His gaze searched hers. “Do you mean that?”

  “No promises,” she repeated.

  She didn’t even want to know what had driven him into her arms this afternoon. Whatever it was didn’t matter. He had given far more than he’d taken, and she would remember that…no matter what happened between them down the road.

  19

  Walker had to get out of the house. Even though dark was falling and Tommy was due home any minute, he needed some fresh air, some space, to try to grapple with what had just happened between him and Daisy. It had been coming since the day they’d met, but he hadn’t expected to be so shaken by it.

  He hadn’t expected it to matter.

  He slid out of the bed, trying his best not to wake her, but she stretched and yawned, her lush body drawing him like a magnet. This time, though, he resisted and determinedly pulled on his pants and jammed his feet into his shoes.

  “Where are you going?” she asked sleepily.

  “Tommy will be home soon. I shouldn’t be in here. I thought I’d take a run into town, maybe pick up some ice cream for later, give you a little time to get yourself composed to face him and your brother.”

  “Ice cream’s a good idea,” she said, leaving her opinion of the rest of the explanation unspoken.

  Her easy acceptance of his response made him irritable. Shouldn’t she be suspicious? Shouldn’t she be making him feel lousy for deserting her right after they’d made love? That’s how most women would react, with pouts and recriminations.

  Walker sighed. Didn’t he know better than anyone that Daisy wasn’t like most women? She trusted him. She wanted to believe in the good in everyone, especially him. No wonder her family worried about her. They were right to, because he had years of history to prove them right. He wasn’t good enough for a woman like Daisy.

  “I won’t be long,” he said tersely as she sat up slowly and unselfconsciously let the sheet fall away, exposing her full breasts, the rosy nipples still engorged and way too tempting. He swallowed hard and backed up a step.

  He was halfway out the door when she called his name. He stopped, anticipating—maybe even hoping for—all the nagging comments she hadn’t voiced before. Instead, she merely said, “Will you bring back some cherry vanilla for me?”

  Walker’s mood suddenly lightened. “That’s it?” he teased, amazed by her all over again. “No chocolate with walnuts and marshmallow swirls? No banana with dark chocolate fudge and pecans?”

  She grinned. “I know it’s not exotic, but it’s my favorite. I try not to keep it around, because I’ll eat it all at once.”

  Walker smiled at that, delighted to discover that she had at least one vice, albeit a tiny one. “I’ll bring a gallon,” he promised, enjoying the flare of temptation in her eyes.

  “Don’t you dare.” It was part order, part plea, as if she knew she’d never be able to resist.

  “With hot fudge sauce.”

  She groaned. “Walker, what are you trying to do to me?”

  “I wish to hell I knew,” he murmured with a heartfelt sigh, then took off before she could ask any more questions he couldn’t answer.

  Walker liked Tucker Spencer, but the man did have an annoying habit of being around every time something happened between Walker and the man’s sister. Walker always had the uncomfortable sense that Tucker could see straight into his head and knew that if he hadn’t just committed some unpardonable sin with Daisy, he was about to.

  Tonight Tucker was in front of the ice cream store, leaning against the bumper of his cruiser, eating a cone. Cherry vanilla, from the looks of it. Must be a family preference, Walker concluded.

  “When did you get into town?” Tucker asked, finishing the ice cream, then tossing his napkin into a nearby trash receptacle with a clean shot Michael Jordan would have envied.

  “Nice shot,” Walker acknowledged. “I got in earlier this afternoon.”

  “You usually don’t come till Saturday morning.”

  “Do you keep such close track of all tourists, or is it just my comings and goings you find so fascinating?” Walker asked, unable to keep a note of annoyance from creeping into his voice. The fact that he deserved Tucker’s suspicion made him even more irritable.

  “Just observant,” Tucker responded without taking offense. “And you are staying with my sister, so maybe I do pay a little closer attention than I might otherwise. She send you out for ice cream?”

  “No, I just thought I’d get out from underfoot for a while.”

  Tucker nodded, as if that made perfect sense. He shifted away from the car. “The town’s quiet. Maybe I’ll come in and sit with you for a bit. We can have a cup of coffee before you head back.” He studied Walker intently. “Unless you’d rather not have the company?”

  Walker couldn’t see any graceful way of declining. Besides he wanted to get a fix on what had been going on around town. He still wasn’t at ease about the whole drug thing. His professional instincts had kicked in. And once Tommy heard enough to start asking questions, it had become personal.

  “Can’t stay too long,” he told Tucker. “Your sister’s expecting me back.”

  “With a pint of cherry vanilla, I imagine.” Tucker grinned. “Since you’re buying, maybe I’ll stop by and have a little more on the way home. One paltry little scoop just gets my taste buds itching for more.”

  “Why not? I imagine your brother will stick around, too. He’s been out fishing with Tommy. They’re due back anytime now.”

  “So I heard. The kid’s winning over everyone in the family.”

  Walker studied him, wondering at the grim note he thought he heard in Tucker’s voice. “But not you?”

  “Not me,” Tucker admitted. “Right after your sister died, he got into some trouble. Petty stuff mostly, but it’s the kind of thing I like to keep an eye on.”

  “Has there been any more trouble lately?” Walker asked.

  “No,” Tucker conceded grudgingly. “Daisy’s been a real good influence on him. You, too, when you’re around.”

  Walker was pretty sure there was a criticism buried in there, but he chose to ignore it. “Then give the kid a break,” he advised instead. “You’ve got bigger problems around here than any mischief Tommy is likely to get into.”

  “Drugs,” Tucker deduced, his expression grim. “You’re right about that. Bobby’s been keeping an eye on that souped-up boat at the marina, but the owner hasn’t been doing anything suspicious, at least not right under my brother’s nose.”

  “But you are worried, aren’t you?”

  “There are just too blasted many places for a criminal to slip into the area by boat and remain undetected,” Tucker said. “The river’s Maryland’s problem, but the shore’s mine. There’s no way I can keep an eye on everything, not as understaffed as I am and as big as this county is. The state helps some, but it’s never enough.”

  It was a familiar refrain. They had talked about his staffing problems before. And during every one of those conversations, Walker had been nagged by an insane desire to jump in and offer to help out. He could spare some time in an unofficial capacity whenever he was in town. Still, he’d prevented the words from crossing his lips each and every time. Part-time help wasn’t what Tucker needed. He needed another deputy, one with solid investigative experience.

  Tonight, with the taste and feel of Daisy still fresh, Walker could tell he wasn’t going to have nearly as much luck keeping silent. In fact, from the moment Tucker began his familiar litany about his diffic
ulties in keeping enough well-trained officers on his staff, that nagging voice in Walker’s head began to set up an impossible-to-ignore clamor.

  What if he didn’t offer to help out part-time? What if he just threw in the towel in D.C. and moved here? It would keep Tommy in the community he loved. Daisy would be nearby to drive Walker a little bit crazy with the inexplicable, but definitely insatiable need she stirred in him. Who knew where that might lead? Maybe even marriage, if he could ever convince himself that the disastrous failure of his first marriage wasn’t entirely his fault.

  But could he manage to be content with such a different lifestyle? What if he got everyone’s hopes up, then decided he couldn’t hack it? Then, again, did he even have a choice anymore? Tommy was here and Daisy was in his blood. He had to give it his best shot.

  Thoughts whirling, he drummed his fingers on the table, aware that Tucker was studying him curiously.

  “Okay,” the sheriff finally said. “What’s on your mind? You’ve been jumpy ever since you sat down.”

  “That case I was working on,” he began, trying a diversionary tactic.

  “The murder of that little girl?” Tucker asked.

  Walker nodded. “It’s over. We’ve got the punks responsible behind bars. They’ll stay there until the trial and, if there’s any justice in the world, for a long time after.”

  “Congratulations! That must feel real good.”

  “If you can ever feel good about a thing like that,” Walker said, then gave in to the mental nagging. “But it’s made me start thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Whether this might not be the right time to think about making a change.”

  Interest immediately flared in Tucker’s eyes. “What sort of a change?”

  “Are you serious about looking for help down here? Do you have the budget for another deputy?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, but he couldn’t seem to make himself take them back.