Callahan's Gold (Southwest Desert Series Book 3)

by Mary Tate Engels

  She needed his rugged kind of power, needed a man like Dodge to take her in his arms and bring her to the brink of her passion. She swayed eagerly against his lean hardness and thrilled as his hand caressed the length of her back, ever pressing her to him, tracing the gentle curves of her hips.

  Suddenly, his hold on her gentled, and the hand at her waist pushed them apart. "Tory, sorry I—"

  "Don't apologize. I ... it was me, Dodge."

  Her eyes had darkened to the color of thunder-clouds, and he found her exciting and vital. His response to her had been immediate and intense, and he knew he wanted her in a purely sexual way. But she didn't belong to him, wasn't his type. And obviously, he wasn't hers.

  "I'd like to say this won't happen again, but when I look into your eyes, I seem to lose control," Dodge admitted, his smile slightly askew. "I'll have to work on that."

  "We'll both have to work on it," she said softly. She couldn't help admiring his honesty and knew in her heart she didn't regret the kiss one bit.

  "Your eyes are a beautiful shade of blue," he continued as if in a momentary trance. "Deep blue. They remind me of Sharkey's. They were trusting eyes, maybe too much so. Do you trust too easily, Tory?"

  "Probably."

  "You should be careful who you trust."

  Dodge's hands were still on her, and she felt the strength and magnetism of the man. Her mind whirled at his words, her body ached with desire, and she tried to think straight. "Does that include you, Dodge?"

  "Yes."

  "I find that hard to believe. My father trusted you and I guess I want to, also. Right now, though, I only see you and me together. And what's happening to us. And I'm afraid it's happening too fast."

  He nodded briskly and let his hands drop to his sides. "You're right, Tory. This is crazy . . ."

  Suddenly, she smiled with a twinkle in those intent blue eyes. "According to what was said the other day at the saloon, we don't even like each other."

  He chuckled. "Yeah. You aren't my type, city lady."

  "Nor you, mine, cowboy." She tapped the front of his shirt, then self-consciously dropped her hand before she could succumb to touching him more. "Well, that's over. So much for lust."

  "And now I know how you feel when I kiss you."

  She nodded. "I hope our basic curiosity has been satisfied."

  His brown almond eyes squinted at her, and she couldn't tell if he were serious or teasing. "I don't know about your curiosity, city lady, but this cowboy isn't content with just a little sniff of the brandy."

  She smiled sweetly. "But too much brandy gives you heartburn."

  "I'm burning all over just thinking about another kiss. And more. Maybe if we took it slow and easy, we'd get used to the heat."

  "Maybe . . ." She tore her gaze from his, feeling the same burning inside her. Desperate to change the subject, Tory surveyed the wrecked room. "Whoever did this didn't take it slow and easy. He went berserk."

  "Yep."

  They picked their way into the bedroom amid the upturned suitcases, the disarray of her clothes mingled with the overturned bedside lamp and corner chair. Even the sheets had been stripped off and the mattress scooted awry.

  "My thirty-eight!" Dodge yelled suddenly and dashed back into the living room where he'd hidden the weapon. "Dammit, it's gone! He took my gun!"

  She looked at Dodge mildly. "I'm not surprised."

  "I'll damn sure report this to the police," he muttered furiously.

  "Oh? You won't report two break-ins, but you will report your gun being taken? That's crazy logic, Dodge."

  "When something's taken, it's burglary. This is serious. That thirty-eight was made specially for me," he fumed.

  "Well, should we go now and not touch a thing until the police have completed their investigation? We might mess up the fingerprints or something."

  "Oh, I won't tell them about all this. It'll only point out we might have something to hide and alert them to the fact that you're still in town. They'll want to know details of our trek up the mountain, all about the gold, who we're going with, and what we're going for." He shoved his Stetson back on his head and propped his hands on his hips. Standing with legs apart, he surveyed the room. "No, I'll stop by the station tomorrow and report it missing."

  Tory looked at him curiously for a moment, and decided to let him handle the security problem. She turned back to the mess before her. Shaking her head, she muttered, "My clothes will never be the same. But these hardy things made it fine." She lifted a new stiff pair of jeans with tags still attached.

  Dodge rejoined her in the bedroom. "We need to wash those about a dozen times to soften them up and make them fit comfortably."

  "Soft? Is it possible for these jeans to ever get soft?"

  "Sure." He rubbed the thigh of his well-worn jeans. "Mine are."

  Her eyes dropped to his thigh and the large hand stroking it, and she tried not to think about that hand . . . and that thigh . . . and how they would feel against her. Certainly not soft. "Yes, but you live in yours. I only intend to wear mine for the duration of this trip. After that, it's—"

  "Back to your silks and the big city?"

  She nodded. "Yes." When he didn't respond right away, she added, "In my business, I can't very well appear in well-worn jeans."

  "Fancy business, huh?"

  "Well, not fancy, but . . . nice. It's a rather selective shop. Jeans do not have panache."

  "Panache? Does that mean fancy pants?"

  "No! It means stylish. The latest vogue."

  "Stylish, huh?" He looked down her length, taking purposeful notice of her slender hips and long legs. "You're that, all right. But I'd call you Fancy Pants." Then he grinned and picked up a pair of lace panties and dangled them. "See? Very fancy."

  She snatched the meager item from his large hand. "You should talk about fancy pants! You, with your navy blue briefs!"

  "Oh? You noticed?"

  She turned a brilliant shade of rose blush. "I —I couldn't help but notice when you barged in like that."

  "I was only trying to help a lady in distress." He grabbed the small barbell and flexed his arm with the weight a couple of times before giving it to her. "Better not let yourself get out of shape while you're here. You might need your strength."

  She took the barbell from him and tossed it into the empty suitcase. "I don't plan to let myself get out of shape."

  "Riding those mules up the mountain should keep some parts of you well toned," he muttered as he bent to straighten the mattress. "Guess we'd better get some of this cleaned up so you can go to bed."

  She sighed. "After everything that's happened, I'm wide awake. What if he comes back? Do you think he's gone for good, Dodge?" Suddenly, she wanted his reassurance again.

  "And you don't have your gun anymore." Strangely, she felt a pang of regret.

  "But I have these." He knotted both hands into large fists. "I'll take care of you. Don't worry, Tory."

  Instinctively, she reached out and grasped one huge-knuckled fist. She couldn't get her slender fingers all the way around the fist he'd made. "I have no doubt you'll be able to take care of me. And him. If you know he's here."

  "I'll know."

  "Only if you're close enough."

  He took a step. "How close is enough?"

  Her hand traveled up his sinewy forearm, over the bulging bicep, to his sturdy shoulder. She shouldn't be so impressed by mere muscles, but this brawny physique was attached to a man who elicited a response in her that went beyond reason. Beyond reasonable control. And she was rapidly losing hers. "This . . . this is probably close enough."

  "Not for me, Tory." His chest expanded as he took a slow, heated breath, and she could hear and feel the rise and fall of the powerful expanse beneath her fingertips. "Can't you tell that I want you ... as close as possible?"

  Her hand moved up his shirt to the bare spot at the base of his neck where his collar opened and his pulse throbbed. Her fingers tingled at the sensuous t
ouch. "As close as possible . . ." she repeated in a breathy whisper.

  Renewed by her response to his desire, Dodge pulled them together again, clamping his lips over hers with a vigorous fervor. The timid gentleness was gone this time, replaced by strength of yearning. They clung to each other, grasping and clutching as the throes of gutsy desire took over. Now it was a man and a woman, giving in to feelings and lust, two firebrands seeking the heart of the flame that aroused them.

  He kissed her lips, her face, her cheeks. His lips tasted her long, creamy neck, then traveled deeper, lower. With crazed hands, he removed the blouse and the lacy bra that embraced her firm white breasts. His lips caressed them, setting her aglow with his fiery kisses.

  She lifted in response to his passion and each nipple perked up as he alternated his kisses between them.

  Her fingers shook as she hurried to unbutton his shirt and open it to reveal the expanse of masculine chest that she craved to touch . . . and kiss. And she did, until he moaned softly and pulled her close to kiss her lips again.

  "Tory . . . Tory . . ." he murmured softly.

  His hands stroked her bare back, and she fervently arched against him, crushing her creamy breasts to the carved muscles of his chest. He pressed her against the hardness of his groin. "We belong together, Tory. Like this."

  "Hmmm, I believe so. . ." She moved seductively against him, her silk pants sliding against the roughness of his jeans, her hips undulating with the basic need in her that he had aroused so quickly.

  "Tory, my little fancy pants, I want you." Still, he made no move, except to hold her close.

  "Me, too, Dodge," she whispered, and wriggled loose from his embrace. "Come on," she encouraged, guiding him to the wrecked bed. With one bold sweep of her hand, she made room for them by pushing away the contents of her suitcases. Boldly, she slipped off her shoes and lay back on the bare mattress. She was topless but still wore her beige silk slacks.

  Her breasts heaved as she tried to temper her breathing by taking deep breaths. She felt as though she'd been running. And maybe she had. To Dodge.

  With exaggerated, purposeful movements, she gripped the beige waistband, unbuttoning and slowly unzipping the slacks. Then, with gently undulating hips, she scooted her slacks over the curve of her hips and down the long length of her shapely legs.

  Dodge gulped and stood watching her, spellbound and rooted to the spot at the edge of the bed.

  She smiled tentatively. "Well . . . ?"

  "Oh, God ..." Feverishly, he tugged at his boots, tossing them into the mess around them. His broad hands tore at the oversized belt buckle and his jeans zipper.

  Like Tory, Dodge was aroused and ready and it was obvious as he discarded his jeans and briefs. He paused only momentarily to make their sex safe, then he was beside her, one leg draped over hers, kissing her until both of them were oblivious of anything except their desire for one another.

  He had given her a brief but tantalizing look at his beautiful body, the form that Tory had known all along was there but until now had remained smoldering beneath jeans and western shirts. Last night had given her a tease when he'd appeared in those navy briefs. She'd wanted him then. Now she wanted him even more, buried deep inside her, wanted his complete satisfaction.

  She returned his kisses, plunging her tongue to meet his, letting them tease and dance together, finally giving in to his strength. It was only an overture, an example of what was to come. And they both anticipated the culmination with raging eagerness.

  Finally, with a low rumble in his chest, Dodge moved over her, raising and trapping her arms on either side of her head. Hovering, he murmured, "You're beautiful, Tory. You do things to me, more than you could know." Kissing the insides of her arms, his lips lighted a hot trail all the way down to her already-heated breasts, then back to her lips.

  She arched upward as his lips circled the gentle mounds of her breasts and closed over each tight, aching nipple. "Ohh, Dodge . . . ohh . . ."

  His legs wedged between hers, forcing them apart. "So soft and . . . ready. I . . . can't wait any longer."

  "Yes, yes," she said without hesitation. She felt the hard pressure of him against her belly, then a firm, sure probing against the most feminine part of her. Eagerly, she rose to meet the throbbing heat, seeking to satisfy her own intense burning deep inside. With a small cry, she accepted him, and they merged, completely and thoroughly.

  "Don't stop." She rocked beneath him, urging him, stroking his taut hips with eager hands. She allowed her spirit to flow free, allowed herself the ultimate pleasure Dodge promised her. She was like a bird, suddenly freed from a passionless cage.

  Seeking the rhythm, creating a wild, hot friction, they undulated in unison, spinning and whirling out of control. Together they ascended to the summit of a frantically created desire. When finally, they both were quiet and still, only the sounds of crickets outside could be heard.

  Just as they'd ridden to love's pinnacle together, they clung together for the slow journey down. Timeless floating, dozing, caressing, holding. Hours later, they woke in each other's arms.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, she stirred and found herself pinioned. "Dodge, your arm's heavy."

  "Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry." He moaned as he struggled for consciousness and rolled to her side. "You okay, Tory?"

  "Yes, fine," she mumbled, scooting off the bed. "I just have to go to the bathroom." She stumbled over the mess and remembered . . . Oh, how could she forget? Minutes later, she returned and surveyed the wrecked room in the semidarkness. "Dodge, we have a terrible mess to clean up."

  "Not now. In the morning."

  "Don't you want to fix the sheets on the bed?" She was neat to a point and couldn't believe she'd abandoned her usual for a night of wild and tumbled sex.

  "Come here with me," he muttered.

  Sighing, she clicked off the small hall light and, grabbing a sheet for cover, rejoined him.

  "It'll be okay, Tory. Tomorrow is soon enough. Right now, come here." He reached for her.

  She snuggled against him, "I trust you, Dodge. I trust you to take care of me. Of us."

  "Yes, my beautiful lil' fancy pants. Trust me."

  He turned her back to his chest and wrapped his huge arms around her. They lay curled together like two spoons. Two warm, very-much-alive spoons. His hand nestled between her legs, stroking gently, irregularly. She found sleep no insulation to her response to him as a heated path began to form deep inside her.

  With some relief, she felt him grow hot and hard against her back, and she arched against his hand.

  "Tory . . ."

  "Dodge. . ." She held her breath.

  "Lie very still while I . . ." He turned her and slid gently into her warmth, burning a fiery passion inside her.

  She took a deep breath as he moved deeper and they started another erotic climb to an ecstasy-filled climax.

  She smiled in the darkness. "Dodge. . . "

  "Hummm?"

  "Never better," she mumbled with a little laugh.

  He kissed the back of her neck. "Me, too."

  "Hold me, Dodge. Hold me close."

  And he did, for the rest of the night.

  Morning came, and with it the natural light that revealed the full extent of the wrecked room. Tory lay awake and watched Dodge sleeping. It was a very quiet, private time, a time to speculate over what had happened to them last night. And why.

  Why had she lost control like that? And seduced him? Admittedly, she had encouraged what happened. For all his faults, Dodge was a gentleman and would never have imposed himself on her if she hadn't consented. But she had done more than consent. She had enticed.

  Did she regret it?

  She gazed at the boldly masculine figure next to her on the bed. His proud head was thrown back on the pillow, his profile straight and strong. His chest was broad and covered with a sprinkling of sandy hair, curly and cushiony. The wrinkled sheet met his flat belly halfway, covering rock-hard thighs and the
exciting form of his package. How could she ever regret making love to this man?

  She didn't.

  In fact, she reveled in the joy he'd given her last night. More than sex, what they had experienced had been both gratifying and complete. Somehow, they seemed to reach each other on another plane than simply sexual. They had been drawn to each other from the start, attracted and needing each other. And wanting. So what was wrong with that?

  Deep inside, Tory knew. She and Dodge were two very different people from two diverse pasts, heading for opposite futures. Dodge was not the kind of man she wanted to be attracted to. Her mother had proved how disastrous that could be, and she wanted no part of a life like that. She'd already had it and it was not good.

  So, when this was all over, she'd head back to L.A. and forget Dodge Callahan, her handsome cowboy. And he could forget her intrusion into his wild, western world.

  He stirred and opened his brown eyes to find her staring. Unsmiling, he reached for her, his huge hand catching her behind the neck and hauling her to him. "Morning."

  Immediately, she forgot all her clever in-depth analysis about why they'd made love and relented to her feminine desires to snuggle against his chest. "Morning, Dodge. We have a huge mess to clean up in here."

  "Hmm. And I have to report my gun missing." His hand traveled down her back and settled on the smooth, gentle curve of her hips. He continued to stroke the silky feminine skin, obviously relishing the way she felt beneath his rough hand.

  "And finish getting supplies for the trip."

  "And wash your jeans forty-seven times so they'll fit you well." He caressed her rear affectionately. "To make them soft and comfy, Miss Fancy Pants."

  "I need to call home and see how things are at the shop."

  He kissed her rumpled blue black hair. "All to be finished in the next twenty-four hours in time to head up the mountain and meet the others by three in the afternoon." He rolled back and pulled her over him, kissing her soundly. "But all of that can wait."

  "Dodge!" she gasped as her body felt his boldness. And responded to it.