Under The Desert Sky (Desert Sky Series)

by Mary Tate Engels

  He kissed her lips gently. "You know my favorite way to spend evenings Lacy, is with you. With or without the flowers."

  "And what about nights?" She loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top button and kissed the top of his chest.

  He bent to trace her earlobe with his tongue and whispered, "I love spending nights with you. Just the two of us. Wish we could have more."

  "Me too, Holt."

  He kissed her throat and worked his way around her chin to her lips, continuing to lure her with his gentle passion.

  Lacy opened her lips to another welcome kiss, this one more intense and fervent. He always managed, quickly, to pull her into his irresistible emotion. His tongue slid between her lips and teeth, taking her breath with its rhythmic pulsing. She relished the taste of him as his tongue rubbed against hers.

  Suddenly she craved him ravenously as a cascade of longing flooded her being. In his arms, she blossomed with the rush of desire. Their needs were mutual, and obviously so.

  "Come with me." She turned from his embrace and slipped her hand into his, leading the way into her bedroom.

  Lacy loved this room, her private sanctuary from the world. When she wanted to escape, she curled up with a book, sipping wine and listening to music, blocking out the hectic life she couldn't control.

  She closed the curtains and stood in the silhouette created by the moonlight outside. She wanted, if only for a night, to close out the world and keep Holt only to herself. Right here in her little sanctuary.

  She turned so she could see him in the shadows, standing near the door, his broad shoulders angling to a narrow waist. She'd decorated the room with southwest art and a turquoise bedspread. At the foot of the bed, an earth-colored blanket with Navajo designs invited lounging. She had abandoned the rush of city life and embraced her slower-paced, southwest lifestyle in Silver Creek and this room expressed it.

  Since Holt had entered her life, everything had become new and wonderful and inspiring and hopeful. He gave them all hope. "The moon's full," she said softly. "Lots of energy in the night. They say plants grow more bountifully during the full moon."

  "Sounds like a good night for us, Lacy. For making love."

  She could feel the spiral of desire curling through her. He dropped his jacket, tie, and shirt. Then he walked slowed toward her. Bare-chested. She trembled slightly in anticipation of his touch.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her hungrily, letting their lips stay together, then play as if reluctant to part. In that private, moonlit moment, they became simply two people, man and woman, who wanted and needed each other. She desired him deeply, urgently. And she could feel his craving for her, see his arousal through his pants. She hoped all this had deeper meaning than just a strong physical yearning.

  He stepped back from her, and she reached out to touch his chest. He felt warm under her tingling fingertips, and his skin quivered at her touch. Warmth and power swept through her, this marvelous power that a woman has over a man, something beyond mere physical strength. Something she could offer and he couldn't resist.

  With a slight gesture, he moved just out of her reach, and she realized he was waiting for her to finish undressing. She began unbuttoning her blouse with fumbling fingers and left it open to reveal the shape of her breasts while she stepped out of her skirt. Then her panties. She let the blouse slide to the floor and could hear his sharp intake. She arched her back as she unsnapped her bra and let it fall, too. She grew confident in this little show she was giving him.

  His gaze took in all of her. His breath was uneven. He reached out to touch her. With a devilish smile, she stepped back with a similar gesture to indicate his turn to undress.

  He drove her crazy taking his time unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants and losing his shoes and socks.

  She stepped toward the bed. Her nude body brushed his, luring him wordlessly. He made a slight, low sound, like an animal about to lunge. But he took a brief detour to grab a condom. Her heart was pounding as she helped him. Then, at last, they came together in a heated fury, each eager and hungry for the other. He was hers for the night.

  And she was his.

  They whispered and played in the moon shadows and made love until they both fell asleep, exhausted.

  "My love. . ." she murmured.

  "The way it should be. . ."

  How could she ever have doubted that he was right for her? They blossomed in perfect unison, feeling the same passion, wanting each other with the same intensity. They were perfect together, and she felt complete with him. Nothing else mattered. Not the city, nor anyone's financial state. Only love at the most basic level with an unsung hero, this reluctant hero, the man for her.

  Holt was just what she needed - warmth and security and love. Lacy felt the harmony they emitted and reveled in it. This was a perfect love they shared . . . she knew it.

  Holt left her bedroom before daybreak. He walked home, left hand holding his jacket over one shoulder, the other hand stuffed in his pocket.

  He couldn't forget the sensations of his large body stretched over hers, his strength to her softness, his craving to her hunger. Their lips mingling. Their legs entwined. Him, joining her with a slow, sure stroke. The thoughts brought a renewed tightness to his groin.

  He knew he had let this thing between them go too far. He was living a lie. He'd always told himself he wouldn't get caught in someone else's dream again. If he thought something might develop between him and another woman, he'd run – far and fast. The pain of losing Selina had been too great, too deep. And it had affected Sofia's life profoundly.

  But now, he alone was responsible for Sofia. She was getting older and needed a settled life. He'd promised her grandfather that he would provide the emotional security and love she needed. And before he died, Miguel Lopez set up a trust to provide the financial security for his beloved only daughter's child, Sofia.

  That was something he hadn't shared with anyone.

  Holt wasn't the vagabond vintage builder as he pretended, roaming from town to town, soliciting jobs to renovate old places. He was running from his tragic past and the awful truth. And lying to himself.

  Holt had found it easier to avoid long-term relationships with women by assuming this casual lie of a lifestyle. Even though some claimed they wanted a child exactly like Sofia, or they would love to mother her, they didn't want a man with no money in his bank account. So he lived that lie. He didn't want another woman replacing Selina in Sofia's life. Or his. But now. . . now there was Lacy.

  Trouble was, he hadn't counted on caring so much about someone else – and even the allure of this godforsaken, needy little town. And he hadn't planned on what Lacy could do for his life, his mind, his very soul. Addictive, that's what she was. He couldn't get her out of his mind and couldn't stay away from her body.

  He would like to pick up now and leave town immediately if Sofia hadn't just started school. And still he wondered what harm it would do to pull her out now. Damning thoughts.

  Lacy woke in the morning, never having felt so loved, so ravished, so extremely happy. She stretched and looked around the room. Holt's clothes were gone. He'd probably slipped home early. Dammit, why did things have to be this way? She turned over, knotting the covers in her fists and pulling them tightly to her chin. Again, tears threatened. Then she spotted a note on her dresser. Immediately she hopped up and grabbed it.

  My lovely Lacy. . .

  It was from Holt! Her hands shook as if she hadn't seen him in months, instead of only a few love-making hours ago.

  Last night was fabulous. You are my feast of flowers! Today is a new day, though. Forget personal feelings. You must look at your responsibilities and do what's best for Silver Creek. Don't lose sight of the goals you and the town have worked so hard for. You and I are small in the big picture. We'll manage somehow. And I can always get another job.

  Do what you have to do. Take the money and the deal. You know you should.

  Holt<
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  Tears filled her eyes. Forget personal feelings? Small in the big picture? Take the deal? He'd give up his job and her and everything he had going here for the good of the town?

  Lacy wouldn't stand for it. Her feelings for him were getting in the way, coloring the way she looked at everything. She bit her bottom lip. The reason was clear. Yet she didn't want to admit she'd let it happen. This damned love thing. . .

  She glanced back at the note. He hadn't signed with love. What did that mean? That she was the only one with stars in her eyes, blinding her to the harsh reality?

  Lacy couldn't deny her feelings. Trouble was, she didn't know what to do about them – or their love, if that's what it was. They needed time for things to develop and clarify. So, as per usual, she tried to ignore her feelings and stay in control.

  She just wouldn't let this happen. She had to stay in charge of the situation and not listen to her heart. It would be disastrous for them both. She'd already had that experience once. She couldn't stand it again.

  But what about the Phoenix banker's offer? It was a political move, generosity coupled with business, done all the time. Holt knew it. But she rebelled against the ethics of it. That wasn't the way she functioned.

  And yet, Lacy knew, and so did Holt, that Silver Creek desperately needed the money that Thomas McCoy could generate. Federal grants wouldn't do it all. They had to have private investments. That had been part of her strategy to help Silver Creek along. But Holt had the best idea for a solution. The non-profit corporation could be a tool for everyone to help this dying little town fix its problems.

  She couldn't believe that in spite of their relationship, Holt was willing to sacrifice his job. But she couldn't do that to the man she loved.

  Yes, loved.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Holt agreed – he wasn't sure why – to meet with J.T. McCoy, the banker's son from Phoenix and walk through the historic district with him and Lacy. He was glad she came along, or he might have decked the arrogant bastard before they even started.

  Holt opened the door to the Sonoran adobe. "This one's almost ready for occupancy." He walked around the prized fountain, admiring the workmanship. Roman and Sherri had practically made the whole thing themselves and he was so proud of them.

  "And," Lacy added with exuberance, "we have a chef who's starting his Mexican food restaurant here in a few weeks."

  J.T. halted in the front room, barely noticing the stone fireplace and Mexican fountain and exquisite floor tile. "Hell, if this one's done, I don't want to waste my time here."

  "I just thought you might like to see – "

  "How you did it? No thanks, buddy. I'd rather examine what I'll have to work on."

  "You know, of course," Lacy said, "that Holt will be the project leader since he started it."

  "Yeah, yeah, sure." J.T. did nothing to assure anyone that he would comply with her request.

  Holt could read between the lines. No damn way would this work. Flexing his hands to relieve tension, he led the way to the next building. "Here's the Greek revival."

  "This is the one your dad likes," Lacy reminded J.T.

  He slapped a column with his broad hand. "These damn things are a pain in the ass, aren't they? If it was up to me, I'd level the whole damn building and start all over again. But I know my dad envisioned these columns for his bank."

  His bank. Right.

  Lacy put her hand on J.T.'s arm. "We value these historic buildings, J.T. The idea is to restore them to usability again. It's part of the charm of Silver Creek."

  "Yew-ah" he drawled. "But restoring some of them is more trouble than they're worth. I can tear them down and rebuild so you'd never know. And in half the time, a third the cost."

  And so it went. They spent barely thirty minutes on the walk through before J.T. said, "Okay, gotta run. I've seen enough. I'll send you my proposal with specs next week. I'm sure you see that I can do the job."

  Lacy shook hands with him stiffly. "Thanks for taking your time to come all the way from Phoenix, J.T. I'll be in touch as soon as the council votes on your plans."

  He shook hands with Holt and left the building. Holt looked at Lacy, saying nothing.

  "This would give you a crew, Holt. You would have some help."

  "No, Lacy. This won't work."

  "But Holt, don't you think we can negotiate, work things out?"

  He moved slowed to the door, then turned back to her. "Don't know about we. But I cannot work with that man. No, I will not work with him."

  "Holt, I don't want to comply with his demands. Give me a reason to kick him out of the equation."

  "I can't. I'm the out of the equation. Sorry, Lacy."

  And he left. Lacy stared after him, tears in her eyes. "Damn it, Holt."

  When the proposal came in a few days later, he refused to go over it with Lacy. "Holt, please just come take a look at it," she insisted. "It's very doable. And there's no way we could afford his work if his father wasn't backing the project."

  "You do what you think is best for Silver Creek. You need the money. You need the work done. Here's a way."

  "But Holt – "

  "I don't want to get caught up in the politics of the thing, Lacy. I'm finished."

  On Thursday before the City Council vote, Holt met with Roman. "I'm going out of town. You two get the day off tomorrow."

  "So man, does it have anything to do with what's going down at the courthouse Saturday?" Roman faced Holt with both thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets and a squared lift to his chin. "And how come nobody tells us what's happening?"

  Holt reached into the portable chest cooler and handed Roman a soda. "I will be out of town on family matters."

  "I hear there's a big council meeting. They're voting on your job. And mine, which is a big deal to me."

  Holt chuckled at Roman's tough-guy attitude. "Who told you about that?"

  "I've got my ways and means." Roman held the can to one side and popped the top. It spewed with a hiss.

  "I see." Holt figured the information source was probably Steve, who could have overheard Sandy discussing the situation. Roman was a wily kid, typical of a survivor, so it wasn't surprising that he would find out.

  The McCoy proposal had caused quite a stir in town as word of the possible influx of big bucks will do. Most folks thought it might be a good deal.

  But they didn't fully understand the strings McCoy attached to his arrangement, namely, his son's construction company doing the work. If that happened, there was the risk of the townsfolk losing control of the direction of the projects. And clearly, Holt would move on because there would be no place for him in McCoy's organization. Lacy had called the town council into a special session this Saturday so that all members and citizens, even those who worked out of town, could attend and hear both sides.

  "Frankly Roman," Holt explained patiently, "I didn't think it concerned you. It's my problem."

  "Hey, man, if it affects you, it affects me."

  Holt suddenly felt as if he were talking with a colleague, a real friend, not a troubled kid who needed direction. "Okay, I didn't want to get you stirred up over nothing. You'll still have a job here, I'm sure."

  Roman jerked a thumb toward his own chest. "Man, I'm stirred up, all right. We start cleaning this place up, working for you, gettin' used to the way you want things done and—bingo!—they pull a switcheroo on us."

  Sherri joined them for a break and echoed her agreement with Roman's statement. Holt handed her a soda, then took one for himself. He often took a break and shared a cool drink with the kids, just talking.

  "First of all, you're not working just for me," Holt countered, thinking this was a good time for a little adult advice. "You're employed by the city of Silver Creek, just as I am. But I want you to realize that you're really working for yourselves, to improve your present situations and your future lives. Most importantly, you're learning a craft that you can carry with you throughout life. Nobody can take that away
from you, no matter where you go. Don't give that up."

  "I'm not going anywhere, man. But the truth is it's you I want to work for."

  Through Roman's unnamed source, they'd heard that the mayor had called a special meeting of the city council to consider Mr. McCoy's considerable financial offer... and the strings attached. Those strings tangled the lives of others, specifically those in this room. Roman and Sherri would be directly affected. Holt could only hope they wouldn't lose their jobs. But he knew that if McCoy were allowed in, he would be out.

  "So tell us," Roman commanded.

  Holt sat on the top of the cooler and looked at the kids honestly. "You probably know as much about this as I do. A very wealthy man from Phoenix has offered to arrange for a lot of money to go toward refurbishing the historic district. It could mean some very good things happening to Silver Creek. And quicker than anyone had anticipated."

  "It's more than that."

  "Yes, Roman. It is." Holt took a deep breath. "The man wants his son to have this job, leading the project."

  "Your job?"

  Holt nodded. "Right. My job. You have to understand, I'm just one person in the whole scheme. The town needs his financial help. And there are a lot of people around here who'll suffer if Silver Creek doesn't survive. Including you." Holt motioned toward them. "And the total, the whole town, is more important than just one man. Certainly more than me."

  "Can't you both work here, too, and get it done faster?" Sherri asked logically.

  Holt shook his head. "There isn't room. Not enough money. And—"