by Eileen Wilks
He frowned, hardening himself against that frail and futile enemy. He turned the engine off. "I'll get Mark ready for bed."
"Hmm? Oh, yes." She opened the door without looking at him.
He shouldn't have said anything about Jenny. He'd talked about his ex-wife twice today, and maybe the first discussion had been necessary so Hannah would know the truth, but the second time… What had possessed him to mention her again? Women didn't want a man to think about anyone or anything but them. Nate slammed the truck door behind him. "I don't think about her very often anymore."
She wrinkled her nose in puzzlement as she rounded the truck's hood. "What?"
Great. She hadn't even been thinking about Jenny, and now he'd brought her up again. "Never mind." He went to the side door and unlocked it. He could have sworn he felt Hannah standing behind him on the stoop, only that didn't make sense. He didn't feel the warmth from her body, not with both of them in jackets. She wasn't wearing any scent. And she wasn't moving, so he didn't hear her.
But he felt her.
The kitchen light was still on. Nate started for the hall. Then he stopped, turned around and frowned at her. "We'll talk after I get Mark settled." He didn't know what the hell they were supposed to talk about, but she could damn well tell him.
She had her head tilted to one side as if she were curious about him, her hands in the pockets of her parka. "Okay. I guess I'd better finish the dishes."
"It's your day off."
"I don't want them staring at me from the sink when I get up in the morning." She slipped off her jacket and draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
"Hannah…"
"Yes?"
He knew he should say something. But what? The things that came to mind—I want you, take off your clothes, don't change your mind about me—weren't likely to fix whatever he'd done wrong. "Never mind." Frustrated, he started for his brother's room.
Abe was there. Nate told both of them about Trixie's condition so Abe could pass the news on to the hands, and Abe reported on King Lear, who hadn't suffered so much as a scratch. Nate shook his head. "I can't decide if the shooter was lucky but basically a lousy shot, or unlucky but a great shot. He hit a dark brown dog on a moonless night, and missed a thousand pounds of bull."
"King Lear doesn't show up too good in the darkness," Abe pointed out. "Besides, I figure Trixie startled him, running at him the way she did and barking her fool head off. She made him miss his shot."
"Maybe."
"He had a lot more range when he was shootin' at the bull, too. I took the light out there and looked around. Think I know where he was standing. He didn't get very close. Probably wanted to stay near enough to his vehicle so's he could make his getaway."
"Guess he had that part figured pretty well, then. He did get away." Nate shifted restlessly. He wanted to be with Hannah.
"Thompson's no dummy. He'll find out who did it."
Nate gave Abe a skeptical look.
Mark spoke. "Thompson was just a deputy six years ago, Nate. No point in blaming him for what the fat fool who held office before him did."
Nate met his brother's eyes. He understood that Mark wanted to put their argument behind them, and he was willing to do that. "Same glory-hunting DA, though. He's not going to put much energy into prosecuting a case like this. He can't get much press from convicting someone for shooting cows."
"Thompson will do his job," Abe insisted.
Nate didn't want to argue. "It's time for Mark to get some sleep."
Mark grinned. "Tell Hannah I'm ready for my sponge bath."
"Heh! Heh!" Abe stood and picked up his hat. "Makes you all eager to get tucked in, does it, when Hannah's doing the tucking? Can't say I blame you."
"Hannah's off duty," Nate said flatly. "I'll take care of you."
"You are not giving me a sponge bath."
The expression on his brother's face reassured Nate that the two of them were back to normal. "Damn right I'm not."
Abe left, his dry heh-heh-heh trailing down the hall after him.
Mark was wearing a pair of the cutoffs Hannah had altered for him. Nate frowned. "How do those things come off?"
Mark tugged them apart, one-handed. "Why don't you have Hannah come show you? She won't mind. She likes my gluteus maximus."
His butt, in other words. Nate scowled at his brother.
Mark grinned.
Nate stabbed the button that made the bed flatten itself. He didn't like the idea that Hannah knew Mark's body a lot better than she knew his. There wasn't much he could do about it, though—except introduce her to his own body. As soon as possible. "She's a medical professional," he told Mark. "You should treat her with respect." He put one hand on Mark's back, well above the rib area, and one on his thigh, then rolled him gently onto his side so he could pull the cutoffs out of the way.
Mark had a cocky, amused look on his face that made his brother want to belt him. "You don't have to worry, you know. The woman empties my bedpan. That makes for an intimate relationship, but it sure as hell isn't romantic."
Nate felt foolish. He handed Mark his toothbrush and toothpaste. "Here."
"Am I supposed to brush dry and spit on the floor, or—"
"Just stick something in your mouth long enough to shut it up." He went to get the water, basin, washcloth and towel.
* * *
With mixed feelings Mark watched his brother go. He never had brought up the subject with Nate that he'd meant to discuss earlier that day. He'd intended to ask Nate what his intentions were toward Hannah.
Feeling protective about a woman was new to Mark. He wasn't sure what to do about it. He didn't think he was jealous of what was happening between Hannah and his brother—or not exactly. Oh, there was a twinge or two of envy, maybe. Hannah was smart and funny and sexy as hell. Any man would want her. But he'd gotten to know her pretty well the last few days, well enough that he would have kept his hands to himself even if his big brother hadn't decided to hang Keep Off signs all over her.
Hannah was a woman hungry for promises and permanence. Not his type at all. The problem was, he liked her, and he didn't think his big brother had any happily-ever-afters in mind for her, either. No, Nate's intentions were obvious. He meant to have Hannah.
Mark pushed the button that raised the head of the bed so he could sit up. Yet his brother was too honest to deceive Hannah about his intentions. And surely Hannah was too smart to think she was going to change Nate, and too sensible to get herself hurt by settling for less than she deserved. He had been thinking that it was time Nate came back to life, and there was nothing like a case of unrequited lust to wake a man up. The more Hannah turned Nate down, the more he would want her; the more he wanted, the more he would focus on the present, not the past. It sounded like a win-win situation to Mark.
Of course, if Hannah ever gave in, she'd quickly cease to be important.
No, he wasn't going to warn his brother off, but he really ought to have a talk with Hannah, just to be sure she understood the way things were with Nate. He'd do that, he decided. In the morning.
* * *
The wind was in a hurry tonight.
Hannah stood out on the long front porch, her arms hugged around her for warmth, since she hadn't zipped her jacket. Usually the wind died down toward sunset, but maybe there was some kind of weather moving in, because instead of easing off, the wind had picked up. It was kicking dust and winter air along at a pretty good pace now.
Her back was to the front door when it opened, then closed. A second later, she heard Nate's voice. It sent chills over her faster than the wind had.
His words were less attractive than his voice. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
She shrugged and didn't turn around. "This is a great porch. You don't use it much, do you?"
"Not in the winter. Not with the wind blowing like this."
"The wind might be cold, but look how it scrubbed the clouds out of the sky. Isn't that o
dd? You'd expect a front to bring clouds with it, not hurry them away. And the stars…" Slowly she turned, facing him. "The stars are really something tonight."
Nate hadn't moved away from the door. Behind him, the darkness paled slightly, washed by light leaking from a crack in the living room drapes. But where he stood was in complete shadow, making him the darkest shape in front of her. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming out here?" he said. "I couldn't find you. You weren't in the kitchen or the living room or your room." His voice dropped. "You weren't in my room, either."
Her heartbeat skittered. "I didn't say I would be."
"I said we'd talk." He started toward her. "I'm not going to jump on you. You didn't have to come out here to get away from me."
"That isn't— I just had a need to see the sky. Do you ever feel that way? Like you just have to look at the sky?"
"Yeah." He stopped in front of her. "Sometimes I do. I don't see how people can stand living where city lights and pollution keep them from the stars." He rested his hands on her shoulders, his voice low. "What did you want to talk about, Hannah? I know something is wrong. You were too quiet on the ride home."
Home? The word tugged at places inside that she didn't want touched. Not now. Not when she felt so desperately vulnerable. "This afternoon you were determined to tell me your secret. You thought that was the right thing to do, because—because you wanted me."
He squeezed her shoulders gently. "I do."
"I've got a secret, too. It's something you should know before we go any further."
"All right." He didn't seem worried. In fact, he moved even closer. With her parka unzipped, she could feel the heat from his big body now, where before she'd been chilled by the wind. Her breath caught. Hannah believed in getting over the hard ground fast. This ground was rough enough to make her heart pound with fear, so she spoke quickly before she could lose her nerve. "I'm in love with you."
His head jerked back. "The hell you say." His hands fell away. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
She sighed. "Just what I said. I know you aren't looking for that sort of thing—"
"Damn right I'm not."
His anger hurt. She hadn't expected anything different, but it still hurt. "Well, I wasn't, either. I sure didn't want to fall in love right now, but it happened, and I figured I'd better tell you." That's what she'd realized in the car. And given how she knew Nate felt about love, she had to be honest with him about her own feelings.
"Did you think it would make me back off?" He grabbed her shoulders again, but this time he wasn't gentle. "Maybe it should. I hadn't thought you were the kind of woman who needed a crutch like love. I hadn't thought you would try to manipulate a man that way. If that's what you hoped to do—" his hands slid up to coil around her throat "—you're in for a disappointment." He bent and took her mouth with his.
She forgot how to move.
Hannah had thought she was ready for all sorts of reactions from Nate. She'd been afraid that he would back off, yes. That fear had sent her outside tonight, seeking the stars, reaching for the strength to do what she had to do. So she hadn't expected the quick claiming of his kiss—or the flashfire of her response. Surprise held her still for three long seconds.
Still, but not frozen.
Heat snarled through her, a swift-footed monster—stronger, faster, fiercer than ever before. She knew instinctively that this beast would eat her alive, gobbling her up from the inside out. And she wanted that. Craved it. She grabbed his shoulders, opened her mouth to him and hung on, overwhelmed.
Frightened.
Eager.
His tongue swept inside, and the taste of him made her hunger, made her need. How could she have expected this? Until this second, she'd never kissed him knowing that she loved him. This time, the sensations that shivered through her weren't sweet or curious. This time, desire had claws.
Nate pulled his head back to mutter, "You will give to me." His hands streaked down, sliding under her jacket to cup her breasts. "You said you would come to me. And you will."
Hannah arched her back, pressing herself into his greedy hands. She reached up and threaded her hands in his short hair. "Damn right," she said. She took a deep, strangled breath. "And you're going to give to me, too." She pulled his mouth back to hers.
Her hands raced over his body, testing, seeking flesh. His clothes frustrated her. The hunger growing in her was too new—a vast, unsteady beast whose hot-as-sin breath was building a furnace in her belly. Hannah had no idea what to do with such a rich excess of feeling, except to act on it. Quickly.
Her hands went to his belt buckle, and she tugged. She'd forgotten that it was winter, and the porch's wooden floor was hard. He could have her here. Now. She didn't care. It was dark enough for privacy.
Or maybe she was the one who needed to have him. Here. Now. In the dark.
But Nate clamped his hand over hers, stopping her. "No," he said, though his breath came as raggedly as hers. He leaned his forehead against the top of her head. His voice dropped so low that she barely heard him over the pounding of her heart. "In my bed, Hannah. I want you in my bed." He smoothed his hand along the length of her hair.
That simply, he gentled the beast. Oh, hunger still growled in her. Need still swelled. But one gentle stroke of his hand had awakened other needs—needs that weren't simple enough to be satisfied by a hurried coupling in the dark. Though she'd wanted them to be. She closed her eyes.
Damn. He wasn't going to make any of this easy, was he?
* * *
Nate walked with Hannah to his room, his arm circling her waist possessively. He didn't speak. What was there to say? He didn't stop to kiss or reassure her. He had no reassurances to offer, no promises or pretty words. And if he stopped to kiss her again, he'd have her clothes off, her legs spread and her back against the wall before they took another step.
And he wanted her in his room. In his bed. He didn't know why that mattered, but it did. It mattered enough that he'd stopped her when she was fumbling with his belt buckle, even though he'd been so hard he'd come closer to embarrassing himself than he had since he was fourteen.
At the door to his room, he let go of her hand. Automatically, he waited for her to precede him through the doorway.
She glanced up at him. Her eyes brimmed with humor and something perilously close to tenderness when she reached up to stroke his cheek. "You do have such lovely manners." Then she dropped her hand and walked into his bedroom, stopping next to the king-size bed.
Earlier, when Nate had hunted through the house for her, feeling panicked and foolish because she was missing, he'd left the lamp by his bed on—and two small, foil-wrapped packets on the table beside it. The lamp's soft incandescent glow lay on her skin now, smoothing gentle shadows beneath the curves of her cheeks and jaw, tucking one into the hollow of her throat.
She looked right, standing there in his room next to his bed. She would look even better when she was in his bed, naked and reaching for him.
Nate went to her and grasped her waist with his hands. "This is better, isn't it? This way I can see you." He eased her up against him. "I want to see you, Hannah. Every bit of you."
When her lips parted, he bent and caught her tiny gasp with his lips.
Nate intended to go slowly. Now that he had her where he'd planned and plotted and seduced her into coming, he meant to take it slowly, to savor her kiss by kiss until they were both crazy with waiting.
Hannah had other ideas. And insanity was a lot closer than he'd ever dreamed.
First there was the taste of her, a quick punch to his system. Then there was the feel of her beneath his hands, live and supple and warm. And there were her hands—the way they slid up his chest, petting him, then tugging at the buttons on his shirt. He liked that so much that he had to show her by crushing her up against him. She felt good there. Held snugly against him that way, Hannah felt better to him than anything ever had in his life.
Better than anythi
ng?
He frowned at the thought.
"Nate," she gasped, breaking the kiss. "I could use a little help here. If you'd stop— ahh," she said when he moved her, turning her so that her breasts rubbed against him. "I can't—get this shirt of yours—off—when you're doing that."
Good idea. He could savor her much better when he had her naked.
Nate wanted her clothes off. She was equally determined about his. Their hands tangled, bumped and shoved even as their pulses jumped and sped. He had her shirt and bra off; she'd just tossed his shirt aside and was working on his belt, but she kept getting in his way. "Dammit, Hannah," he said, and pushed her hands aside, reaching for the button to her jeans.
"Dammit, Nate," she said, and shoved his hands aside. She was reaching for the snap to his jeans when she looked up, catching his eye as he pushed her hands away again so he could reach for her jeans again. She started to laugh. "Maybe we could negotiate? Draw straws to see who goes first?"
Her face, glowing with laughter and desire, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "How about a race. Whoever strips first—"
"Wins."
Hannah couldn't stop laughing. She pulled her jeans and panties down, but she hadn't taken her boots off. She stopped to get them, but the denim and lace now bunched up at her knees threw her off balance and she toppled backward onto the bed. That sent her into fresh whoops, which further interfered with her efforts.
Nate, who had already yanked his boots off, took quick advantage of her distress. He shucked out of his own jeans in record time. Hannah had only managed to get one boot off when Nate tossed the last of his clothes aside and came down on top of her, full-length.
Her eyes got big. Her laughter faded.
"So," he said, stroking his hand down her throat, raising himself up enough that he could cup one of her breasts. "What do I win?"
"Me," she whispered, and twined her arms around his neck.
