by Helen Conrad
“Jessie,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “This is dangerous, too.” His hands slid down her sides. Her slender body felt pliant and feminine beneath the soft fabric of her gown. He felt for her breast, and there it was, round and firm, the nipple a tight, hard protrusion under all that white cloth. Nothing he’d ever touched had aroused him more.
“If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he urged huskily very near her ear. “Before it’s too late.” He drew back and stared down into her wide eyes. “Tell me now, Jessie.”
She didn’t tell him anything at all. Instead she put her arms around his neck, arching her body into his, offering him everything she had. His hand on her breast had been ecstasy, a pleasure she wanted again. Her impulse was to rub her body against his like a cat, purring and begging for more of his tantalizing touch.
He groaned and began to kiss her, first her mouth, then her neck, then lower, using his hand to push aside cloth so that his lips could find her smooth skin. She helped, pulling open the buttons that held her gown closed in front, until it was open to the waist. He pushed back the sides and exposed her breasts, the nipples dark and tight and more sensitive than she’d ever known them to be.
She gasped as he touched them, first one, then the other, stroking with his thumb, then leaning down to take each in turn into his mouth, tugging and teasing, while his hands moved down to cup her bottom, strong fingers digging into the soft flesh, moving, molding and finally pulling her tightly against the cradle of his hips so that she could feel the growth of his own need for her. Electricity shot through her at each touch. Her hips were already moving with the rhythm of his caresses.
“Hey,” he whispered softly, his hands sinking into her thick hair on either side of her head and forcing her to look up into his smoky gaze. “Slow down,” he said, his voice husky and slightly slurred. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
She closed her eyes, trying to still her heavy breathing, and he began to kiss her face, letting his tongue outline her brows, dropping soft, slow caresses on her eyelids, nuzzling the hollow at her temple, taking her earlobe into his mouth with a lazy, rhythmic motion that made her shiver. She moaned, searching for his mouth with her own. His tongue traced her lips and she reached for him hungrily, growling when he teased her, almost purring when he finally met her halfway, his hot, intoxicating mouth coming down hard on hers.
She wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t time to think. She was lost in a mindless swirl of desire. It was time to feel, to set herself free. This was something special, this time, this man. Though she hadn’t put it into words, she knew she couldn’t let this get away without taking the chance. She might never pass this way again.
He drew back, short of breath himself. Sighing with pleasure, she reached out to open his shirt, flattening her hands against his warm body. His chest hair was concentrated about the flat nipples, so the hard contours of his muscled body were clear. She outlined them with her fingers, tracing lightly and laughing when he shuddered at her touch.
“Come on.” Taking her hand, he led her into the cottonwood grove where they couldn’t be seen from the house. She tingled all over everywhere he touched. She felt drunk and she loved it. Gently he lowered her onto a pile of autumn leaves, coming down beside her. “Is this okay?” he asked her.
She nodded, looking up at him, marveling at how he cared about her, asking if she was comfortable. She’d never known a man to do that before.
He kissed her mouth, then sat back to look at her. “You’re so beautiful, Jessie.” His voice was hoarse, throbbing with some strange emotion. “I...I don’t want to hurt you. You do understand that I’ll be gone, out of your life very soon. That I can’t promise you anything....”
Reaching up, she pressed her fingers against his lips, stilling him. She understood only too well, and she didn’t want to be reminded. It was too dark for him to see the feeling in her eyes, but she lifted his hand and placed it on her breast. “It’s getting cold,” she murmured. “Make me warmer.”
His laugh was low in his throat as he moved closer. “I’ll make you boil,” he promised.
She closed her eyes and threw back her head and remembered that it had been in this very grove that she had spent hours when she was a girl, dreaming of a special man, a knight on a white charger who would come and sweep her up into a fairy tale. And now her dream was coming true.
He was tugging her gown up, sliding it across her thighs, his hand slipping beneath it to caress her, to stroke again and again, until she cried out, her eyes wild.
“Michael!”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes taking on a wildness of their own.
She reached for his belt, but her hands were shaking and he took over, quickly removing his clothing. She held her breath and, when he turned to her, let it out in a rush as she reached for him, so hard, so butter smooth, so real, so beautiful in the moonlight. His breath was rasping now, and when she touched him, his hands clenched her shoulders. Excitement quivered between her legs, demanding fulfillment, demanding his presence now.
“Now,” she growled, her eyes wide. “Now, Michael! Oh, please...”
His entrance was like an explosion inside her body and she wanted to scream, wanted to bite down hard on his shoulder, but she resisted and concentrated on him, instead, the sinewy hardness of his body beneath her hands as they rubbed up and down his back and nestled in the hollow at his tailbone.
He moved and she came along, faster and faster, caught up in the whirlwind, thrilled by the ride. They were one, she and he, pleasure and need tightly bound, desire and fulfillment joined in a dance as old as human memory, and the wind drove them higher and higher, until there was nothing around them but clouds and Jessie touched heaven.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Crazy
Sunshine came streaming in through the bedroom window. One glance and Michael groaned and closed his eyes again. He’d missed his predawn departure, that was certain now. He turned his head and buried his face in Jessie’s hair, trying to care that he’d screwed up again.
She sighed and moved, and his hand found her breast, caressing it gently so as not to wake her. Lord, but she was exquisite. Making love to her in the cottonwoods, and then again here on the soft bed, had been like finding a dream lover in the night. He’d almost been convinced she’d disappear by morning. But here she was. All his.
Stroking her hair, he watched her soft breathing, the way her chest rose and fell, the delicate line of her collarbone, and he felt a tenderness he didn’t know he was capable of.
And then his mood darkened. He should have been on his way to Las Vegas by now. Once more he was letting a woman into his life and it was diluting his resolve. He should get out while he still had the strength to do so.
Jessie was also awake, listening to his breathing just as he was listening to hers. She felt his hand in her hair. She was deliciously drowsy, as though her veins were filled with honey. She felt protected, appreciated almost—did she really dare to think the word—loved.
They’d made beautiful love the night before and for once in her life it hadn’t been “sex,” physical recreation, a half-reluctant duty that could be sort of pleasant if everything went all right. This time it had been flying without a license, soaring above clouds on a magic carpet made of spun gold, catching a ride on a comet’s tail, and a thousand other lovely things that had given her a taste of paradise. Even if it were never to happen again, she would always have the memory of this night to cherish. She hugged that knowledge to herself, secretly happy it was all hers.
“Good morning,” she murmured at last, her eyes barely slits. “If you’re a wonderful dream, I’m not going to open my eyes, because I just want to keep right on dreaming.”
Grinning, he abandoned his doubts and dropped a kiss on her nose. “You’re not going to come after me with a shotgun now, are you?” he asked her teasingly.
“A shotgun?” She opened her eyes and stared up at him.
“Like you told me you
did with the last fellow who kissed you.”
She had only the trace of a smile on her face. “Don’t mention that in the same breath as this,” she said, starting to pull herself up.
His eyes darkened and he stopped her with a gentle hand. “What happened, Jessie?”
She hesitated a moment, a haunted look in her eyes. Then she shook her head. “I’ll tell you sometime. Not now.” She yawned, then smiled brightly and said without further preamble, “The first thing we have to do this morning is trade that fancy car of yours to Uncle Fred for his pickup truck.”
“My car?” Michael stared at her. “Are you crazy?”
“Every highway patrol officer in the country must have a description of that car by now. The crazy thing would be to keep right on driving it.”
Conflicting emotions warred in him once again. He’d been lusting after that car for weeks, before he’d finally bought it. “You’re right,” he said, his agony reflected on his handsome face. “I know it’s necessary. But that doesn’t mean I like it.” Climbing out of bed, he went to the window and looked at his car in the driveway. His eyes were wistful. “How are you going to get him to trade?” he asked. “He’s going to think we’re nuts.”
“I’ll think of something.”
She got up out of bed and began to hunt for her clothes, then turned and stopped, watching Michael at the window. For the first time in her life, she understood why they called it making love. Making love, she mouthed silently to herself as she watched him. Michael was hers now, for the moment, for the time being, for however long it took to take care of him, to get this thing straightened out. She felt this with a fierceness she had never felt for anything else except her ranch and Harley.
They had a quick breakfast—luckily without Cerise, who was still working hard on her beauty sleep. And then Uncle Fred took Michael out to introduce him to the mighty jojoba bean. Jessie watched them go, watched them stop to look at Michael’s Mustang on the way. Michael sure did look good in those snug jeans. She grinned, and he turned and caught sight of her at the window. He didn’t smile, but he winked, then turned back to pay close attention to something Fred was saying. That simple gesture broke something free inside Jessie. She felt as though her heart had been cracked open like an eggshell, and out had spilled a hot, sweet, pleasure-pain that scared her at the same time as it thrilled her.
Sometime later, Uncle Fred came in while she was making the bed. She looked up from the hospital corner she was working on to give him a smile, welcoming, but wary.
“Jessie, I’ve got to talk to you for a moment.” He flopped down in a chair near the bed. “I don’t want you to go away with hurt feelings, now. I know Cerise said some pretty mean things to you last night, and you probably think we’re always thinking mean about you, but I want to tell you it’s not that way.”
She set herself down on the bed and smiled at him. “Uncle Fred, I have no idea what Cerise keeps talking about. I know you and Harley had some kind of fight, but I don’t really know what it’s about. It has nothing to do with me.”
“Don’t really know what it’s about!” He slapped his knee in disbelief. “Come on, girl. How could you not know?”
Jessie shook her head. “He’s never really said anything, except little comments now and then, but nothing specific.”
“It’s the money, Jess. Just the money.”
When Jessie didn’t say anything, Fred frowned and went on, “Old Aunt Jessica’s money, of course. The Carrington fortune. The money Harley got all of and I got none of.”
Jessie looked at him as though he were pulling with the wrong oar. “Aunt Jessica didn’t leave us any money.”
“She sure as heck did!”
“No.” She shook her head. “I remember when she died. I didn’t give it the attention I should have because I was going through a divorce at the time. But I remember Harley being mad cuz he wasn’t asked to attend the reading of the will.”
“Harley got every penny of the Carrington fortune!”
“If he did, he never told me. We’ve been barely scraping by for years now.”
Fred looked purple and began to sputter. “I.. .I can’t believe this.”
“What made you think Harley got her fortune?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t told about the reading of the will, either. Why, you were named after Aunt Jessica. And I just assumed.. .well, I mean, Harley had threatened...”
Jessie remembered now that Aunt Jessica was supposed to have a fortune left to her by her grandfather from the old days of the Comstock Lode.
“I swear to you, Uncle Fred. We never got a cent.”
Fred appeared old all of a sudden. “I don’t believe it. All this time, I was certain that Harley had gypped me out of the money. He warned me. He threatened.” He shook his head wearily. “He came up here and asked me to stake him in some fool idea about starting a restaurant or something. Well, I’d just sunk every last dime into jojoba beans and I had to turn him down. He thought I was holding out on him and got real mad, said he was going to go to Aunt Jessica for the money, and that he was going to make sure I got cut out of the will while he was at it.”
“Oh, Lord. And what did you threaten him with, Uncle Fred?”
He had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “Well, of course I said I was going to go to Aunt Jessica and tell her lies about how you’d been badmouthing her and such. But I never meant it, and he knew it.”
“Did he? Just like you knew he never really would go to Aunt Jessica and tell her to cut you out of the will?”
“Well, he said...”
She sighed. “Uncle Fred, it wasn’t until five years ago that Harley finally scraped together enough to start his restaurant. Piecing together things he’s said in the past, I now realize that he thought as falsely about you as you did about him. And you’re both wrong. Now don’t you feel silly?”
Fred harrumphed but didn’t answer. His pale eyes looked confused and worried.
“For ten years the two of you have not been speaking because you each thought the other one had all the money. This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right, girl. It is ridiculous.” He sighed. “I’m going to have to go down and see Harley and see if we can get this straightened out.”
Jessie laughed softly. “Right. Good idea.” She sobered. “Listen, in the meantime, we want to trade cars with you.”
“What’s that?”
“That Mustang you were out there admiring? How would you like to own it? We’ll trade you for that old beat-up Ford pickup you got around in back.”
He looked at her as though he wasn’t sure of her sanity. “Why would you want to do a fool thing like that?”
“Never mind why. Just say yes or no and get out your pink slip.”
He considered for barely a moment. “Well, why not? I could have some fun with that Mustang, drive it around some and then trade it in for two of those pickups if I’ve a mind to.”
“My thinking exactly.”
He frowned at her. “So why would you want to get rid of a beautiful car like that?”
She leaned forward and patted his knee. “Call it a present, a hostess gift, to thank you for letting us stay the night.”
He was skeptical, but willing. Jessie went outside to let Michael know.
It was a glorious day, the sky china blue, the desert sparkling like gold dust left behind by the miners when they retreated from their gold-strike mines. She took a deep breath and felt like dancing across the yard.
Michael was coming toward her. Restraining herself, she walked sedately to meet him.
“He says okay,” she told him as they met, her eyes sparkling. “You’ll have to transfer things from the Mustang to the pickup, and then we can get going.”
Michael’s look was incredulous. “This is crazy, you know,” he muttered. His Mustang, left in the desert. He could hardly bear it. He looked at her and his eyes softened. The sunshine made
her loose hair gleam. She was wearing jeans again, this time a pair from Cerise’s drawer, but there was a softness to her now that hadn’t been there the day before. He wanted to make love to her again. Maybe a few hundred times in a row. He smiled at her, glad she was coming with him, even if it was going to be in a rattly old truck. “Let me check the engine out first, though. I’ll tinker with it a bit.”
“You mean to tell me you know how to work on cars?” she asked, only half teasing.
“Of course I know how to work on cars. I was once an all-American teenager, just like everyone else.”
“Really?” Her eyes laughed into his. “I thought maybe you city folk skipped that part of life.”
He caught hold of her and kissed her soundly, his mouth hard and hot on hers, his hands strong. “I can tell I’m going to have my hands full just trying to keep you in line,” he murmured.
“Nobody’s ever managed it before,” she told him softly, pressing herself to him and wishing she never had to let go.
“Come on,” he whispered, the flat of his hand against the small of her back. “Let’s go into the stables. You can introduce me to the horses.”
“Since when were you interested in horses.”
He nuzzled her temple, breathing in her scent. “Since I heard about all that nice clean hay they keep around them.”
Jessie was humming a tune as she went back into the house sometime later, but the look on her uncle’s face as he opened the screen door for her stopped the notes in her throat.
“What is it?” she asked anxiously.
“Come on in, honey,” he said worriedly. “I’ve got to talk to you.”
She followed him into the living room and sat on the couch behind him, trying to be unobtrusive as she picked bits of hay from her hair, but soon abandoning the effort as she realized how upset her uncle was. He’d looked concerned before, but now he was positively gray. Jessie wondered if it was his health.
He turned to look at her and sighed heavily. “Now you know me, Jessie. You know I don’t have much contact with the outside world. That’s because I like it that way. But I do get the paper once a week. And I just got out this week’s and started reading it.”