"Last year with a friend from Silver Creek who owned a cabin in Antonia."
Holt was quiet for a long moment. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, he blurted, "A man? Was this friend a man?" Then he lifted his hand from the steering wheel and motioned for her to be quiet. "No, Lacy. Don't answer. That was stupid and jealous. I don't know what got into me."
She grinned at him. "I kinda' like the idea of you being jealous, Holt. Actually, I went with girl-friends. Sandy, Annie, Jennie Lassiter and me. Jennie has since sold the cabin and moved to Denver. It was great fun to get away from it all, and we even had an adventure before we got back to civilization."
Holt chuckled. "What kind of adventure? A bunch of women with a flat tire?"
She smiled wryly. "Close. Stuck in the mud. I mean, impossible to budge. But we managed in an unconventional way to get unstuck."
"Okay, I'll bite. How?"
"Well, it had rained practically all weekend. We were content to sit by the fire and talk, drink wine and relax. When we were ready to leave Sunday afternoon, we realized that our car was stuck in the most god-awful, gunky mud you've ever seen."
He laughed. "Gumbo?"
"Yes, that's what they call it. The car sat up to its hubcaps in the stuff. It was awful and looked like we'd be there all week, trying to dig out! But, we all needed to return to work. So, we found a way."
"What did you do?"
"One of the neighbors who lives there year-round had a very large snowplow in his yard. Apparently he drives it for the county in the winter to clear the roads and driveways."
"Don't tell me you got him to push you out."
"Yep, the snow plow did the trick. Pushed our car right out of the muck."
Holt laughed. "What a sight that must have been."
"Yep, we had mud everywhere. All over us, the car, even our hair. But we headed home fast, just looking like that." Laughing at herself, Lacy felt more relaxed than she had in ages. She gazed out at the autumn gold scenery as the road snaked higher into the mountains. "Have you been up here Holt?"
"Not here in the White Mountains of Arizona. My two brothers and I grew up in El Paso, and my family always went to Ruidoso in New Mexico. My Dad loved the quarter horse races."
Lacy listened as he talked about his family in his casual Texas drawl. She liked the way his walnut-colored hair hugged his neck in back, an inch slipping inside his collar. "Did you and your wife ever go up there?"
"Yeah, sure. We bet on those horse races, even when we couldn't afford to." His eyes gazed straight ahead, his expression impassive. "This trip is our chance, Lacy, to create our own special memories. Antonia is ours. I hope we'll look back on this weekend as a wonderful beginning. And I hope we'll return."
"I hope so, too," she murmured in a soft-voiced admission.
He looked great today in a beige sweater, its buttoned neckline open. She stared at that spot on his neck, letting her imagination travel down over his chest and more. She was overwhelmed with the urge to see more of him, to touch his chest and run her fingers along his lean body. She wanted to feel his broad hands on her, to taste his gentle kiss.
As if he could read her mind, he placed his hand on hers. She turned her hand palm up to match his, and their fingers laced, his large tanned hand engulfing her slender pale one. It was a small act, but it seemed beautifully significant. Reassuring. Secure. Sensuous.
"I don't know much about you, Holt, except that your wife died five years ago and you have a six-year-old daughter."
He was quiet for a long time, then spoke in a low, somber tone. "It's something I don't talk about much. Mainly because I don't want to relive it. But you should know that she died of a kidney disease, which got worse after Sofia was born. She only lived a year with her baby. I was angry for a long time."
"Why?"
"Because . . . she left me and died. Sounds crazy, but we had a perfectly good life. Traveled from job to job, sort of a bohemian lifestyle. I did my thing with historical buildings. She designed and sold jewelry. But after Sofia, everything changed."
"Do you long for that lifestyle again?"
"Sometimes." He drove quietly for a while. "What about you, Lacy? You're divorced from someone in Tucson?"
"He's in Phoenix now, with his wife and two kids. She was already pregnant when we divorced. Which was part of the greater problem between us."
He took a heavy breath. "Okay, Lacy. I don't need to know any more about him or why you broke up. I want you all to myself. I want our relationship to begin the day we met—no baggage, no past memories, good, bad or indifferent. And no regrets."
"All right. We start from scratch. I like that." Holt's statement gave her tremendous relief. It meant she wouldn't have to reveal any more about herself. None of her secrets would have to come out to spoil what they had together. It could be just the two of them, plain and simple, from this day forth. Maybe this kind of relationship was what she needed. She had learned from her past and would not make those mistakes again.
They wove through a tunnel of trees, golden and lush. It was like an entry into a foreign land, a place of freedom from responsibility and worry. She could just be herself this weekend and enjoy Holt. And hope he enjoyed her.
In a moment of private exultation, she raised their clasped hands to her lips and planted a series of kisses across his knuckles. "Fine with me, Holt. We'll just keep everything in the present. Like this."
When they arrived at the tiny former-mining town of Antonia, Holt drove the main street slowly. "I wanted to get an overall look at the way the buildings related to each other and made up the complete town."
"Yeah, me too." Lacy thought that was the last thing she wanted here, but it showed his good intentions and knowledge of architecture. She gazed out the window, noting the many flowers in pots, on doorsteps, even hanging pots on the street lights dripping with flowers. "Is this the business part of our trip?"
"Yep. You know the story of this town?"
She shrugged. "Another mining town. With lots of flowers."
"But not a ghost town. They preserved it and now it's an artsy place, good for families or retirees. Isn't that what you want for Silver Creek?"
"Yes, but we don't have this kind of style. No flowers to speak of. Only my herbs and Lena's roses."
"That's a good start," he said. "What's the soul of a town? In this one, the mine owner persuaded his wife to join him out here in the Wild West by naming the town after her. Antonia."
"I didn't know that."
"They had four daughters, no sons to carry on the family mining business," he continued. "So, Papa gave the girls small businesses of their own. Hence, Rose Petals Flower Shop; the Iris Inn; the Lily Café; and Laurel Lodge. Other businesses in town picked up on the flower trend and someone figured out what flowers would grow well here. In this way, they have thrived."
"You are just a wealth of information."
"Historian, remember? You can learn a lot from history. Like how not to repeat mistakes." Holt parked in front of the historic, almost century-old Laurel Lodge and switched off the engine.
"This place is beautiful, Holt." Lacy was overwhelmed at the array of flowers on the front lawn and porch.
"There's a large garden in back, according to their website." He took a deep breath and gazed straight ahead. "One room or two, Lacy? You decide."
"How many rooms did you reserve?" she asked in a practical tone.
"Two."
"Well, maybe—" she paused and swallowed hard "—maybe you should cancel one."
"Only if you. . . ah, want it this way."
"Do you?"
"I didn't come here to sleep alone. However, if you want to wait. . . " He looked at her and shrugged.
She couldn't help smiling. "Or if I want to sleep alone?" She shook her head.
His arm went around the back of the seat, his fingertips barely touching her shoulder. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I want you completely, Lacy. But I won't ruin what we already have by rushing you into a s
ituation where you'll feel uncomfortable."
"What if I rush you?" Her grin was spontaneous and teasing. "I think we should stay together. That's what we came for, right? I don't want to miss a wonderful opportunity."
"Right." His arm dropped to circle her shoulders, and he pulled her closer. His lips crushed hers in a moment of rugged desire as his pent-up passion rushed into the kiss.
Hands clasped, they walked up the steps leading into the old, once-elegant hotel. Lacy savored the crispness of the air, the fresh scent of pines, the pungent smell of mesquite wood smoke. She could feel the tautness of anticipation between them. She had thought about Holt Henderson a lot, even dreamed about him a little. Now, what would it be like to hold him, love him, have him making love to her? A tingle of excitement danced in her belly.
Entering the lodge was like stepping back in time. The lobby fireplace alone was big enough to hold her kitchen table. The adjoining restaurant featured a beautiful wooden bar once owned by Chicago gangster A1 Capone, and the old Red Dog Saloon had hundreds of miners' dollar bills pinned to the wall. Lots of history within these walls.
Holt took her hand and led her up the winding staircase. In that moment, Lacy felt that this was a time of forward motion, the beginning of a bright and shining future for the two of them. Oh, how she wanted to believe those feelings.
While Holt unlocked the door, she glanced down the hallway. For an instant she saw a brief flash of black. A black cat? Impossible! But her first thought was that something good was going to happen. Hmmm…
Holt waited for her to enter first. Lacy's gaze swept the quaint room, with its flocked red wallpaper and heavy wooden furniture. An oak washstand held a hand- painted water pitcher and bowl. A large window draped with a silk valance and layered sheer curtains framed a fabulous view of the multihued mountainside. Finally, her eyes moved to the bed, with its ornate iron frame and quilted cover.
With a quick sweep, Lacy flopped her suitcase onto the leather-strapped rack and feverishly began to unpack. Why was she nervous? It wasn't as if this were her first time ever. And this was a moment she'd anticipated with a degree of eagerness. But this was her first time with Holt. And she wanted it to be good. Better than good. Great. And perfect. Super-perfect. And yes, she couldn't help being as nervous as a caged cat.
Holt closed the door and they were completely alone. He dropped his backpack near the bed and walked to the window and braced his hands on either side of the frame. Everything about him was silent, peaceful, calm. But she could feel the tension mounting between them. Her hands moved faster, needing to be busy. What should she say? Who would make the first move?
"Lacy, come over here."
She looked up, unconsciously holding her breath.
"This view is fabulous. You can see the tunnel we came through, as well as the mountains beyond."
Releasing her breath slowly, she joined him. He placed one hand lightly on her shoulder, and they stood gazing out the window for a tight minute.
"Know what I'd like to do?" he asked.
"I can guess."
"Oh?" He drew back a little. "What?"
She nodded toward the bed.
"Wrong, Ma'am."
She giggled, knowing full well she wasn't far wrong. "You're hungry?"
"Nah. Food can wait." He pulled her closer and turned her toward the window. "I'd like to take a hike right over there, where the red oaks mingle with the gold aspens."
"You serious?"
"Never more. Let's get outside for a little while. Just to stretch. And enjoy." He turned her in his arms and slid his hands around her waist. "It'll loosen the kinks of driving and relieve the tension in here. Feel it?"
She lifted her eyes apologetically. "I didn't mean to – "
"Don't worry about it." He kissed her lightly. "We'll go commune with nature and see what happens."
"You are absolutely amazing, Holt Henderson. You finally get me alone, in a romantic room that reeks of history, with the bed right there—" she grinned "—and you want to take a hike."
He shrugged. "We can skip the walk and go right to bed."
"No, let's walk," she said quickly. "That's a good idea."
He paused at the door. "Don't think for a minute that I don't want you. Right there in that bed." He bent and whispered into her ear. "I could take you right now, Lacy. I could stretch you out and strip every piece of clothing from that beautiful body of yours and ravage you with great pleasure..." He nibbled sensuously at her earlobe.
She giggled nervously and felt a strong knot of desire deep inside.
"But I'd rather love you passionately and feel your willing response. I want you to know the same intensity, the same passion that I'm feeling. It should be shared to really be good."
Lacy felt that passion, but pushed it away. "Okay, Nature Boy, let's go commune with the trees."
They clambered down the creaky stairs, laughing and touching and pausing more than once for a brief, wet kiss. Yes, she thought. This could be a very good thing, as the elusive black cat promised.
The afternoon sun filtered golden through the autumn foliage. A breeze rustled the leaves and tossed a few clouds along the mountaintops. In the far distance, thunder rumbled faintly. Lacy thought it was the most beautiful day, ever. Everything was perfect.
Their footsteps were soft crunches on a thick forest carpet. They climbed a steep hill, with Holt leading and Lacy following, holding his hand. She watched his long legs stride ahead of her, his strong muscles bunching to push him ever upward. He didn't seem to have any trouble with his knees, while hers already felt like rubber. Near the top, she halted and braced one hand on a sycamore trunk. "Holt," she panted. "Wait up a minute—"
"High altitude getting to you?" He returned to her.
"Must be. I feel like I can't get enough oxygen. Either that, or I must be in pretty bad shape," she said, puffing to catch her next breath. She placed her palm to her rib cage and took several deep breaths.
"We're probably moving too fast. Altitude will do that to you."
"Plus it's hot up here," she said, running her hand under the weight of her hair. "I should have put my hair up." She piled it on her head and held it with her hand.
Holt reached out, placing his hand over hers. His fingers slid down to curl around her heated neck. His gaze locked with hers. "Lacy...." Gently he pulled her closer and closer until his mouth touched hers. The kiss was sweet and seductive, his lips softly sipping at hers. "Take your sweater off. You'll cool down quicker that way."
Her hand crept beneath his sweater to touch the lattice of heated muscles along his spine. "You first," she murmured between her own array of kisses.
Without hesitation, he pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it onto the ground. "Now. . . your turn."
Her gaze traveled over the width and breadth of his chest. She swept her hand across the broad expanse caressing the natural curves of his well-defined muscles. He was beautifully masculine, and she felt overwhelmed by his size, which seemed larger right now as he stood before her bare-chested. She nodded her approval. "Nice. Very nice."
He moved forward and smiled down at her. One of his knees touched hers. He pressed his thigh to hers. "Take it off."
She stepped back and halted against a tree.
He moved with her and, unable to resist, she reached out with one hand and touched him. With feathery fingertips, she caressed his chest and waist.
He quivered beneath her light strokes.
He gathered the bottom edge of her sweater and worked it over her head, then tossed it onto the ground with his.
She didn't object.
With gentle fingertips, Holt stroked between her breasts, then her belly, ribs, and curved around her back. "Cooler now?"
She nodded, wondering how she could be cooler when she was on fire inside.
He unsnapped her bra and began to kiss her breasts. She arched and they rose to meet his touch, his kiss. Before either of them knew it, the light touches bec
ame a vigorous embrace. He pressed the length of her body to his, breasts, bellies, thighs. She couldn't get enough of his kisses. Weak-kneed with desire, she sank, taking him with her.
Lacy opened the snap on his jeans.
He groaned a pleasurable sound.
Slowly she lowered the zipper. Sliding her hand inside his jeans, she touched his fullness. He was aroused and hard and pushed against her hand. Holt made another noise, which she understood as something like "dangerous," but she couldn't be sure. It sounded exciting.
She wanted his touch and arched eagerly against him, mushrooming with desire for him. She longed for his strength, wanted to know the fulfillment of being one with Holt.
Lacy was no longer the self-sufficient mayor, no longer the rejected woman, nor the woman who had brazenly seduced a successful man in town. Right now she was a woman who needed love, from this particular man. She craved Holt with a passion she'd denied too long. He obviously needed her, and she found that extremely rewarding.
"Holt, please —" She gasped as he pressed hard against her.
A loud rumble invited the patter of rain against leaves, dousing the magic of their passion.
"Not here, Lacy. Not this way." He was breathing hard, getting up, fumbling with his jeans and sweater.
She lay there, stunned for the moment. Rain was hitting her in the face. "Holt – "
"Come on, Lacy, let's get out of here."
"But I'm – "
He pulled her to her feet and helped her get dressed.
The rain was coming hard and fast, cold, pelting them with a chilling force. They ran, stumbling and scooting down the hill.
They arrived back at the lodge drenched and chilled. Inside the cozy room, Holt pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.
Under The Desert Sky (Desert Sky Series) Page 10