by Marin Thomas
She struggled to keep pace on the maddening journey. Then his hand delved between her thighs, weakening her resolve. Hovering somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, she begged for mercy. Her prayers were answered when Nelson drove into her and released her from the prison of passion he’d held her in.
His thrusts quickened, increasing the intensity of the tremors pulsing through her body and shooting her into the heavens. Moments later, his groan vaguely registered in the back of her mind.
Shadows danced in the corners of the bedroom when Ellen awoke. How long had she been asleep? Nelson’s hair scratched her nose and quiet snores escaped his mouth. In sleep, he had wrapped an arm around her middle and had rested his face against her breasts. She felt safe and secure. And loved. For this one night.
Buck had never cuddled with her after sex. Nope. He’d popped off the bed, showered, grabbed a beer and then watched TV until all hours of the morning.
And he never called you angel.
A warm gush flooded her heart. Secretly, she was fiercely glad Nelson’s grandfather had answered her newspaper ad. The memory of Nelson’s lovemaking would last forever.
Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to cry. Tomorrow, she’d wake up and be a farmer again. Tonight, she was Cinderella and Nelson was her Prince Charming.
SOMETHING TICKLED Nelson’s thigh. He ignored the irritation, instead concentrating on the soft plumpness beneath his cheek. He skimmed his palm across smooth satin skin—Ellen.
He fought to remain in the lethargic state of semi sleep, where he could fantasize about the woman in his arms and snuggle against her feminine form. But the damn tickle refused to go away. He swatted the air above his thigh.
The plumpness jiggled.
Little tease. He brushed his hand over his leg a second time. The tickle moved to the patch of skin below his left ear. How long did Fanny Farmer intend to toy with him?
He shifted, feigning sleep, and skimmed his mouth over her nipple. Her body stiffened, then relaxed when he nestled his face in her cleavage.
The one thing he’d learned about Ellen during their endless hours of bodily exploration was that she loved having her breasts caressed and kissed. Good thing, since he loved lavishing attention on them. Small, round and enough to fill his hands, with a bit left over. Perfect.
Nelson cracked an eyelid and checked the clock radio on the nightstand. 2:00 a.m. They’d made love twice before Ellen had fallen into a contented sleep. But he’d lain awake and stared at the ceiling light fixture, troubled by the edge of desperation he’d sensed in her lovemaking—as if she’d feared this would be the last time in her life she’d become intimate with a man…with him.
From their first kiss to their first touch, he’d been aware of her lack of sexual experience. That hadn’t bothered him. What had worried him most was the idea her husband had never cherished her. How could a man not treasure a woman like Ellen? Sure, she was willful, stubborn and flat-out wrong about a lot of things, but he’d never met a female more determined. So passionate about her beliefs.
Ellen’s independence bowled him over. She was by far the strongest woman he’d ever encountered. He might not agree with her reasons to keep the farm, but she had a right to choose to live her life the way she saw fit. His mind understood. But his heart ached when he realized her choices might cause her to go through life alone. With no protector. No man to guard her back. Or to offer a shoulder to rest her weary head on.
After making love, he’d held Ellen in his arms and had imagined himself her knight in shining armor—the man to whisk her away from a future of nothing but endless work, difficult times and debt.
Marriage.
Marriage had never been in his plans. Running McKade Import-Export was more than a full-time job. He considered the hours and energy he expended in order to keep tabs on all three offices. Would his work ethic change if he were married to Ellen? Would he delegate some of his responsibilities to his brothers and staff in order to devote more time to a wife and children?
Was he willing to loosen his iron-clad grip on the company in exchange for a family—Ellen and Seth. If so, was the promise of a future with Nelson enough to entice Ellen away from the farm?
She would if you loved her.
Who said anything about love? He cared for Ellen. Hell, yes, he cared. But love?
His internal struggle must have registered with her because the tickle stopped. “Nelson, you okay?” she murmured.
Rising up on an elbow, he winked. “More than okay. You?”
One delicate shoulder lifted as her gaze slid from his face.
Did she regret their intimacy? “What’s wrong?”
Her mouth formed a sexy pout, then she sighed. “Just bored.”
Bored? Caught off guard by her playfulness, he grinned. “I have a cure for boredom.”
“You do?” She flung her arms around his neck, then murmured against his mouth, “Show me.”
The sweet smell of her skin mixed with the heady aroma of their lovemaking wrapped him in a sensual haze. Her lips conformed to his, igniting sparks inside him. He must be losing his mind—their third time making love and each caress, each kiss, felt and tasted brand-new.
He trailed his mouth down her neck, skimmed over her breasts and across her flat tummy, working his way to the blond vee between her thighs. The first time, he’d had to coax her to open for him, but now she lifted her hips off the mattress. Eager. Greedy.
He intended to savor her body—her scent, the slickness of her moist skin, the sound of her sighs. Ellen had other plans.
Her hands moved over his muscles in aggressive, sweeping caresses, the tips of her nails leaving a red mark in their wake. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bumped her pelvis against his stomach.
So much for slow and easy.
Ellen’s eagerness challenged his urge to control as he strained to keep pace with her frantic movements. He attempted to calm her with a tender kiss, but she’d have none of it. First she bit his lip, then she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He’d barely gotten the condom on, before she uttered an obscene command in his ear.
He lost it.
Surging inside her, he thrust, stroke after stroke. He loved her with rawness. Demand. Power. In seconds, Ellen’s body stiffened and her guttural cry brought about his release.
Summoning what was left of his strength, he rolled off her. Side by side, they stared at each other, chests heaving, sweat trickling off their bodies.
“What the hell just happened, Ellen?”
Her eyes twinkled. “I’m not sure, but that was fun.”
Fun? His head had almost exploded and she thought the past 120 seconds of crazy had been fun?
“It’s never been like that for me.” She threaded her fingers through his.
“Me, neither.” The way he’d lost himself in her sweet loving terrified him. “Ellen Tanner, you are the most fascinating woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
This time she let him take the lead, and he made darn sure to amply reward her team spirit.
Chapter Eleven
“Wait until you see Deep Throat.” Seth spoke from the back seat.
In the process of parking the sports car in the gravel lot outside the Klayton County fairgrounds, Nelson jabbed his foot against the brake, causing Ellen to clutch the dashboard. She nibbled her lower lip to keep from laughing at his stunned expression. Did he honestly believe she’d allow her son to view porn movies?
Nelson shut off the engine. “What kind of fair brings in actors and actresses like that?”
“Deep Throat’s not an actor—he’s a sword swallower,” Seth explained.
“Cutlery and an occasional butcher knife,” Ellen clarified, grinning at Nelson’s misassumption.
By all rights, Ellen should be exhausted, not invigorated, excited and energetic. If someone had predicted she’d feel this perky after a night of incredible sex, where her partner had thoroughly explored, experimented an
d tested the limits of her body until exhaustion had overtaken her, she would have sworn the person had lost his or her marbles.
But that was exactly what Nelson had done—ravished her.
Over and over. Until the wee morning hours when they’d collapsed into sated unconsciousness, only to be jarred awake by the clock-radio alarm.
She’d rolled her tender, still tingly body off the bed and had stumbled to the barn. Nelson had joined her several minutes later. Between passionate kisses, lewd caresses and a breath-stealing quickie up against the barn door, they’d managed to milk the cows. She should have expected he would be as demanding a lover as he was with everything he laid his hands on.
“Are you coming?” Nelson asked.
Coming? Heat suffused her face and she prayed the young backseat passengers hadn’t noticed. Fat chance.
“Mom, why’s your face all red?”
“Your mom needs fresh air. Everybody out.” Nelson’s eyes sparkled. “Shame on you, Widow Tanner.”
“Me? What for?”
Leaning over the gearshift, he taunted, “For every single sexy thought running through your mind right now.”
She couldn’t very well confess making love with Nelson had revealed a sensual side of herself she hadn’t known existed. Nelson was like candy. One taste and all she could do was dream of when she could have another piece. Of him. Before she got herself into a heap of trouble, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek and scooted from the car.
“Are you sure we can’t stay for the Midget Men Monster Truck Jam tonight, Mom?” Seth whined.
The Klayton County Fair Board had a reputation for booking outrageous entertainment events such as tonight’s—little people driving five-ton megatrucks with 66-inch tires. The event didn’t hold much appeal to her, but she could understand where the boys might enjoy the ruckus. “I’m sorry, Seth. The cows have to be milked by six.”
“Maybe my dad could pick us up afterward,” Brad offered.
No way was she leaving two thirteen-year-olds alone at an event where beer and who-knows-what-else flowed freely in the stands. “Sorry, guys.” Time to change the subject. “There’s the ticket-booth line.” She pointed up ahead.
“Race you,” Brad challenged. The boys took off down the runway, dodging bodies, strollers and a ferret on a leash.
“I could milk the cows, then return for all of you tonight,” Nelson said.
“That’s generous of you, but I guarantee that by late afternoon, the boys will be more than ready to leave.” As she and Nelson followed at a slower pace, Ellen asked, “Have you ever been to a fair?”
“Disney World, Six Flags amusement parks, but never anything smaller.” His mouth dropped open when a wheelchair-bound granny wearing a skimpy halter top and a miniskirt winked at him.
Swallowing her laughter, Ellen insisted, “You’re in for a real treat.” And she wasn’t referring to the sunny, slightly breezy eighty-degree weather.
“Do you attend the fair every year?” Nelson side-stepped to avoid squishing a half-eaten, mustard-covered corn dog.
“Try to. My parents could never afford real vacations, so a trip to the country fair was my sole summer entertainment. I got involved in 4-H when I was in middle school and for a couple of years I showed dairy cattle.”
“Win any ribbons?” He swatted at a pesky fly buzzing around his head.
“No. I mostly did it because I enjoyed hanging out with the other farm kids in the livestock barns.”
Nelson smacked his brow with his open hand.
“Here.” She held out a tissue.
“What’s that for?”
“You have a dead fly stuck to your forehead.”
“Oh, hell.” He spat on the tissue, then wiped off the gooey remains of the insect.
Seth waved from his place in line as they approached. Before she’d even unzipped her fanny pack, Nelson insisted, “I’m paying.” He opened his wallet and handed each boy a twenty. “That should hold you for a little while.”
“Gee, thanks, Mr. McKade.” Seth grinned.
“Yeah, thanks, Mr. McKade,” Brad added. “We’re going on the Tilt-A-Whirl first.”
A college-aged guy strolled past and whistled. Ellen smiled, then schooled her expression when she noticed Nelson frowning at her.
“That happen often?” he muttered.
“Yeah. Guys are always looking at Mom,” Seth volunteered.
Nelson examined her pink cotton tank top, frayed-at-the-edges denim shorts and white sneakers. “You don’t say.”
“Good thing she’s hanging around you, Mr. McKade. Guys won’t hit on her now.”
“Enough already. We’ll catch up with you boys later.” Ellen led Nelson toward a row of tents off the main runway.
“Shouldn’t we arrange a meeting place?” he asked.
“As soon as the boys blow through their money, they’ll track us down.”
“But—”
Ellen appreciated Nelson’s worrying over Seth and his friend. “They’ll be fine,” she reassured him.
“What if they get hungry? Maybe I should give them some more money.”
“No. I’d rather they run out of cash and have to find us than not see them all day.”
Nelson’s face lit with understanding, then just as quickly, he frowned. “Who the heck is he?”
Ellen followed his gaze to a tent several yards away. “Tattoo Man.” She waved at the carnival worker, who sat on an ancient pickle barrel. The carnival worker raised a hand and flashed a tobacco-stained grin.
“You know the guy?” No mistaking the shock in Nelson’s voice.
“I first met Tattoo Man when I was in fifth grade. Oh, boy, did I have a crush on him.” When Nelson’s eyebrows rose several inches, she added, “He had all his teeth back then.”
Nostalgia tweaked Ellen’s heart as they drew near the aging man. She could no longer make out the pirate ship tattooed on his stomach. She remembered the first time she’d watched him wiggle his abdominal muscles. The ship moved as if it sailed on water. Now only the mast remained visible; the rest was lost in the rolls of sagging skin and belly flab.
“C’mon, I’ll introduce you.” She ignored Nelson’s sputter as they stopped in front of the purple-and-gold tent. “Hello, Mr. Tattoo Man. This is my friend Nelson McKade. He’s working on the farm this summer.”
Nelson held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
The respect Nelson showed the old man tugged at Ellen’s heart. She was positive he had never in his life associated with a person like Tattoo Man, yet he treated the man with dignity—something she suspected the carnival employee had not experienced often in his illustrious career.
Tattoo Man shot tobacco out of the gap between his front teeth, then grabbed Ellen’s hand and held it tenderly between his wrinkled, arthritic fingers. “Missed you last year, missy.” He motioned with his head to the game booth across the runway. “Lola told me about your husband.”
Ellen waved at the woman manning the duck shootin’ booth. Lola had gone through school with Ellen but had dropped out in tenth grade to run off with a ride operator from the fair. Happily married to the same man, and mother of four children, Lola—and her family—traveled throughout the year with various carnival companies.
“Seth and I are doing fine,” she assured Tattoo Man.
“You ready to marry me and join the carnival now?” A sparkle shone through his cloudy eyes.
“I’m still considering….”
“Fickle woman.”
“Maybe I’ll have an answer for you next summer.”
“Been sayin’ that for nigh on twenty years.”
“You might have to wait another twenty.” She smiled.
“Don’t reckon you’ll ever let me rest in peace.”
“Not on your life.” She kissed his whiskered cheek. Face glowing red, he reached for his pack of Camels. “Tell that boy of yers to stop by. I got a new tattoo to show him.”
“Will do.”
He waved. “Go on now. You and yer feller have a good time.”
With a parting smile, she clasped Nelson’s hand and they walked off. Every other step his fingers tightened around hers, then relaxed. “Something on your mind?” she asked.
“You didn’t…I mean you two were never…that is—”
Startled, she stumbled and Nelson grabbed her elbow. Never would she have suspected that such a confident, self-assured man would be jealous of a toothless old scalawag.
Nelson’s eyes skidded away from hers. “I didn’t think so,” he muttered.
She rewarded him with a hug before they continued walking. “Tattoo Man was like a stepfather to me. A few times over the years I spilled my guts to him. He’d listen to my dreams and never once say they were silly or senseless.” Her voice dropped. “And the summer I showed up with Seth in a baby buggy all he said was, ‘With you for a mama, he’ll grow up to be a fine young man.’”
“I’m glad he was there for you.” They strolled for over an hour, stopping to play several games. Nelson was determined to win her a stuffed animal, but after spending twenty-five dollars and coming up empty-handed, she begged, “No more.”
“I’m sure I can knock over those milk bottles,” he boasted, ignoring her protest. He laid five dollars on the edge of the booth, picked up the baseball, wound his arm like a Major League baseball pitcher, then—to Ellen’s amazement—knocked over every bottle on the first try.
“Yeah!” She flung her arms around his neck and planted a big smooch on his lips.
“Which one, lady?” The booth operator held up three prizes.
“The pink cow, please.” When Nelson handed her the toy—the size of a Kleenex box—she hugged it to her chest. “No one’s ever won me a stuffed animal before.”
“Good.” He checked his watch. “Should we find the boys and grab a bite to eat?”
“A hot dog sounds good.” Hand in hand, they wove through the growing crowd of fairgoers.
“Mom! Mom!”
Ellen spun at the sound of Seth’s voice and spotted the boys in line for the bumper cars. “There they are.” She squeezed Nelson’s hand.