by Tracy Sumner
The metal type fell from his fingers to the press as his gaze found Adam’s. “Yeah, but you are.”
Adam’s mind chose that moment to spill an image of Charlie in his bed, her legs tangled with his, their breaths mingling as he moved inside her. Heat blew over his face, and he turned away. “If you mean the Sentinel, yes.”
“I don’t think the Sentinel is all you share. I can’t say, for sure. But I’ve watched the two of you. Looks pass between you, like you’re speaking when you’re not. Like a set of damned twins of something.” Tom swiped his wrist across his lips, sliding blood across his check and into his hair. It lit the blond tips like fire. “I hope you haven’t touched her, when you’re only planning on high-tailing it out of here.”
Adam stared hard at the floor, blinking back the fury tinting his vision. “You better shut your mouth, Walker, or I’ll shut it for you.”
“Don’t think I’m going to make it better if you ruin her. I proposed tonight, and she turned me down,” Tom said and threw a letter against the wall.
Adam closed his eyes, praying it was a Q or a Z. If it was a vowel, they were in trouble. “I’m not your problem, Walker.”
“I can’t get past thinking your coming here changed her answer. Changed her mind. Changed her feelings. I’m not blind enough to think she was in love with me, but I assumed she would say ‘yes’ when I finally asked. I thought she would grow to love me like I love her. Forget all this newspaper business.”
“Maybe you don’t know her. Nobody in this wretched town seems to.”Ada’s hand twitched, reaching to hold back the words.
Tom laughed, a ragged, tortured sound. “Ah, no one but you, you mean?”
“I work with her. That’s all there is to it.”
Tom slapped the press. “That’s what she said, and I didn’t believe her, either.” He passed through the archway, the door slamming behind him. Adam heard him stumble on the boardwalk. Soon after, with a curse, the irregular footfalls resumed.
Adam walked to the door. Lifting his finger to the glass, he traced the crack in the pane. They needed to be replaced. Maybe a thick wooden door would be a better idea. Someone was always slamming this one, shaking the panes like beans in a bag.
I’ve watched the two of you together...looks pass between you...like you’re speaking when you’re not.
When had Tom seen that?
I just hope to hell you haven’t touched her, when you’re only planning on high-tailing it out of here.
Adam’s cheek throbbed in time with his heartbeat. The smell of ink in the office suddenly seemed too solid. He stuck his mouth near the crack in the glass. A draft hit his cheek, and he drew a deep breath.
Was he letting emotions he was not even sure he felt show? Was Charlie in danger of being compromised? He knew the people of this town would not give her a fair trial. They would convict her—guilty as hell from the first moment.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Were they guilty?
Were they both guilty?
Chapter Eighteen
Ardor
Great warmth of feeling; fervor; passion.
Charlie’s rapid step moved her with brisk efficiency along the boardwalk. She was receiving more than the average odd glances today. Could they know about last night? About the disastrous scene in her front yard?
Right out of the clear blue, Tom had asked her to marry him.
Marry him, for heaven’s sake. She cringed as she recalled her awkward, inept rejection. Telling him they would always be friends. He’d laughed at that—a nasty, awful laugh. Very unlike the gentle man she had known since childhood. He had loved her forever, he’d said.
She flushed and glanced around, as if the eyes of the whole town were watching. Only two storefronts ahead, the Sentinel office sign shook in the light afternoon breeze. A safe haven.
She’d skipped church this morning, another sin to add to a long list. She was a coward. Could she ever face Tom again? The look in his eyes...oh, her chest tightened up like a raisin just thinking about it. He hadn’t cried, thank the Lord. Though he’d looked like he was going to. And...the things he’d said. It just did not bear repeating, even in the privacy of her own mind.
Miles and Kath had invited her to dinner next week, and she prayed they had not heard about the debacle. She didn’t think she could sit across the table from Adam, who would surely be in attendance, and discuss her romantic future.
Or lack thereof.
She pushed against the Sentinel door with a sigh. Regarding Adam Chase, she wasn’t guilty of anything except a few shameful thoughts, a wicked dream or two and an exceptional, once-in-a-lifetime kiss.
She was twenty-fours years old! Surely, most women her age had more to repent for. All she’d really experienced before you-know-who came to town were two stolen kisses with Johnny Appleton under an old maple tree in his front yard, and some awkward, enthusiastic groping from her shy suitor of fourteen years.
Too bad she didn’t have more to be ashamed of. Tom believed she was guilty. The town probably did, too. Maybe she should commit the crime. Although, she wasn’t sure what the crime was. But she was an intelligent, capable woman.
She could find out.
She opened the office door, and her gaze swept the interior. Deserted. She frowned. Wasn’t she late for the editorial meeting? As she passed her desk, a note perched on top caught her eye. Chase’s bold, elegant script jumped off the page.
Charlie,
I fell asleep here last night and did not leave until well past dawn. I left my editorials on your desk. Look them over and make any changes you think they need. I’ll be in later, although after the tongue-lashing I’m sure to receive from Widow Davis, I may be confined to my room. Tell Gerald to start laying the type for your completed pieces. I’ll work with him on mine. Maybe we can get this one out on time.
A. J. C.
She ran her hands over the dry ink, imagining him sleeping at his desk, his head cradled in his arms, his dark lashes resting against his golden skin. She’d come upon him sleeping like that once before. It had been hard not to pause and stare. To watch his chest rise and fall with each breath. To imagine his hands, those splendid, slender fingers gliding along her skin.
She had left the office to get coffee to quell the urge to reach those few feet and touch him.
Smiling to herself, she folded the note in half, opened a side drawer and slipped it in among the others. She knew it was foolish to keep them; they weren’t love letters after all. However...she hadn’t been able to throw them away. Not one.
At least this way she would have a small part of him. Not very much, granted, but it was something.
Her gaze fell to the editorials on her desk. It warmed her heart, when she knew it should warm her mind, that he trusted her to complete the editing. Of course, she could do it. Although, Adam had yet to see the final copy for her bank legislation piece. She’d modified the perspective somewhat, and...oh, hellfire, who was she kidding? He wouldn’t like it. It was good, but he would not like it.
She fidgeted a moment, then pulled the bank piece from her satchel. It might be her final opportunity to include an opinion other than Stokes’ in the Sentinel.
* * *
Humming under his breath, Miles elbowed the door open. He thought he’d heard Adam ride into the front yard. He was only a few minutes late. Kath was setting the table.
“Adam,” he said as he walked to the edge of the porch. He took a step back as he got a good look at his friend’s expression as Adam mounted the porch steps two at a time. Landsakes, but the man was boiling mad and as disheveled as Miles had ever seen him. A dark blanket of whiskers covered Adam’s face and jaw, his shirt stuck to him in intermittent, sweat-stained circles, and a thin layer of dust coated his clothes.
Adam stopped at the top of the stairs, his gaze going past Miles, into the house. “Is she here?”
Uh, oh. “Who? Kath?” Clearly, Adam wasn’t looking for Miles’ wife. The crumpled c
opy of the Edgemont Sentinel clutched in his fist was a definite clue. The ink didn’t even look to be dry, smeared as it was all over his hand. “Which way does she walk here?” Adam’s hand flexed once, twice, about the newspaper.
Miles held up his hand, as if he were taming a wild horse. “Now, why don’t you just wait for Charlie to get here, cool off a bit.”
“I’m going to kill her before she steps inside this house.”
Miles forced a laugh past his lips and a smile to his face. “It can’t be that bad. She—”
Adam spun around, vaulting to the ground with an angry oath.
“Adam, wait!” Miles raced down the steps, reaching Adam just as he was mounting his huge beast of a horse. Then, from the corner of his eye, Miles saw Charlie. Walking through the field of corn beside his house.
Unfortunately, Adam saw her, too.
When Miles looked back on the event, he decided it was the strangest thing he’d ever seen.
Charlie was gazing at the clouds, clearly lost in thought, the wind throwing her hair into her face. She lifted her hand to pull a strand from her mouth, when she halted and looked their way. They had not moved, not called to her or anything, yet she’d sensed them somehow. Her gaze fell to the newspaper in Adam’s hand, then quickly lifted to his face. His expression must have crossed the distance, because she turned tail and started running as fast as legs wrapped in a long skirt could carry her.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Adam murmured and spurred Taber after her with a swift jerk of the reins and a sharp dig of heel into the horse’s flank.
Surely, Adam was kidding about killing her.
Miles had felt like tanning Kath’s sweet bottom on more than one occasion, especially when they were sparking. Whatever Charlie had done, well, she and Adam would work it out.
Miles kicked a rock from his path and turned to go inside. He wasn’t going to stand in his front yard and watch them holler at each other. He got enough of that when he visited the Sentinel office.
He sighed and tried to conjure up a way to tell Kath her dinner party might be in a little trouble.
* * *
“Charlie Whitney! Goddammit, you’d better come out right now!” Adam slapped a cornstalk from his path. He was going to kill her. He really was this time. If only he could have stayed on horseback. Oh, she would be his then. As if what she had done to the editorial was not enough, now he was practically crawling through Miles’ cornfield, while she hid from him like a child.
The absolute impertinence of the woman.
Just when he thought he might not find her, she stepped in front of him, emerging from the corn like an apparition in the middle of the desert.
Her eyes, a bit wild, met his. She took a deep breath and stood before him as brave as a soldier.
He reached her in three, long strides, his hands going to her shoulders, shaking her. Her hair whipped around them. “Why, Charlie? Why did you do it?”
“Because...because, I wanted, I wanted it to be free one more time.”
“Wanted what to be free?” He stopped shaking her but his hands stayed, holding her tight. She squirmed and tried to pull away, but he didn’t release her.
“The Sentinel. I wanted to show both sides of an issue, just this time.” She searched his face with that compelling blue gaze. “Can’t you understand?”
“You would be dismissed for this at any other newspaper. You must know that.”
“Dismiss me then.” She flung the words at him, daring him with a quick tilt of her eyes.
He blinked, his mood growing darker with each second that passed between them. He knew he should follow Miles’ advice. Cool off. Leave her alone.
Later, he would wonder why she did it, but she chose that exact moment to lean into him. It was the slightest movement, barely a movement at all, really.
But he noticed, and he took.
“What do you want from me?” He didn’t let her answer as he drew her to him. He dropped his head, seizing her mouth with his, his hands tightening on her shoulders. She sighed and lifted her arms, circling his neck.
If this is what you want, Charlie, I’m willing.
Making good on the thought, he stroked his tongue against her lips. Perhaps surprising both of them, she opened to him without hesitation. He wavered for a moment, then melted into her, slanting his head to capture her mouth as deeply as he could.
She followed his lead, brushing her tongue along his lower lip. Groaning low in his throat, he gentled the kiss until he could feel every peak and valley of her body fitting with his. Hear every breath escaping her mouth. Taste sugar and lemon upon her tongue, her teeth.
He lifted his head and inhaled the sweet scent of corn, earth, roses...her. His hands slid into her thick hair, tilting her head back. He wanted to touch every inch of her. Suck and lick her warm skin. He skimmed his lips down, nibbling the tender area along her neck. He considered settling her to the ground and shucking her clothes off as smoothly as he could shuck the ear of corn lying by his feet.
Oh, how he wanted to end the frustration, the pressure that had been building since the first moment he set eyes on her. As if she agreed, she moved her hips against him, her legs trapped between his. Stifling a groan, he sucked her skin between his teeth and bit down gently. She must not know what she was doing to him—how her movements were affecting him. He swelled a little more as he imagined her naiveté.
And his brain reminded him that naïve meant the woman was likely a virgin.
He sighed and tensed, sliding his hands to her shoulders.
“No, don’t stop,” she pleaded and slithered her palms down his back. She rolled her head along his arm and slowly opened her eyes. Their gazes locked. She lifted her hands to his face, running her fingers into his hair. He could feel the vein in his temple beating a brisk tempo beneath her palm. He watched helplessly as her lids drifted shut. She pulled his head down, capturing his bottom lip with her teeth. Then, she sucked it into her mouth like a hungry dog.
It was a trick he was sure he had taught her.
“Jesus,” he said, his voice hoarse, weak. He stumbled as he brought his hand around her back. She was going to drive him mad. She was trying to. When he needed to walk away. Instead, he twisted, leaning down to her again.
This kiss was a frantic joining, a turbulent exchange of desire and longing. He was too far gone to be gentle. Too deep, too tangled in the web of passion he felt for her.
He pulled his lips from hers, raining kisses along her cheek, her neck. He was moving lower. She was putting up no borders to stop him. With his hands and his lips, he was seducing her. The lemon scent of her hair, the sweet sugar upon her lips, the soft press of her breasts against his chest, was seducing him as well.
“I need you,” he murmured as he brought his hand to her breast. As he’d dreamed, she fit his palm perfectly.
She was terrifying and so damn good.
“I need you.” The words filtered to his mind and he paused, blinking hard as he gazed at her. Did he say that again? After a moment, she flipped her eyes open, her breath rasping from her throat. He felt disconcerted, as if he had just woken up in a room he had never seen.
His gaze traveled from his hand, still lying upon her breast, to her face, her lips. His gaze lingered there. He cursed beneath his breath and flung his arms from her, so abruptly he stumbled, just barely able to right himself.
Chase, what have you done?
Chapter Nineteen
Insanity
Extreme foolishness; folly; senselessness.
It was the first clumsy, undisciplined movement Charlie had ever seen him make.
Adam quickly gained control, and whirled around, walking a few feet from her. She drew a breath, hoping the embarrassing panting noises she was making would end soon. She could see his sides expanding and contracting, lifting his back up and down. He was breathing as hard as she. She watched his hands clench into fists at his side. As if he was alone, he tilted his head back to stare at
the sky.
She wanted to go to him, but her mind and body did not seem to be working together. It was all very peculiar what was happening to her. Her cheeks vacillated between tingling and pulsing with her heartbeat, and stinging and itching from the chafing Chase’s beard had given her. Her breasts felt heavy and full, which they weren’t. And between her...between her legs, she was on fire and doing a slow melt. It was the most extraordinary, most indescribable sensation. With a newly acquired clarity, she understood how men and women could act so outlandishly if this was the result.
“You’re turning me inside out. Driving me crazy.”
She snapped her gaze to him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You’re the one who’s experienced at this...” She shrugged for lack of a precise definition.
He sighed and moved his arms. She knew, without being able to see, that he was rubbing the scar on his hand. “I don’t know about that,” he whispered.
She searched the maturing darkness. For the first time, she noticed how disheveled Adam looked. He had on a black shirt she had not seen before. It was sweat-stained, wrinkled and dusty. His hair, which was shorter due to a recent haircut, was flipping about at odd angles. His hat lay on the ground; it must have gotten knocked off at some point. There was a large footprint stamped square in the middle of it.
She fought a sudden wave of guilt. Had she upset him? Was she twisting him inside out, like he’d said?
He glanced over his shoulder, avoiding her eyes, and said nothing, only looked away again. He began to walk, fading into the cornstalks and darkness.