Jasper continued solemnly. “We all have a cross to bear, dude.” He lifted his chin in the direction of Delaney, a light suddenly twinkling in his eyes. “Sometimes you get a second chance. Why resist?”
Because she’d rip his heart right out again if he wasn’t careful. And he was just as likely to try to rip her heart out. Payback. He’d glimpsed that side of himself earlier and he hadn’t liked it. He had to get her out of his system.
He rationalized. Hell, maybe Jasper was right. Although he knew his church-going friend was suggesting he try to date Delaney again, a different thought was forming. Maybe if he and Delaney had sex, he’d finally be able to purge from his mind the mystery of the unknown that had plagued him all these years. Once he’d had her, he could drive her memory away and get over her once and for all.
And while he was at it, maybe he could figure out why the curandera had linked Delaney to the chupacabra.
Delaney had shed her coat and laid it on the bar stool next to her. She still hadn’t spotted him yet, so he let his eyes roam over what he could see of her body. She was a perfect mixture of innocence and seduction in that dress. It was a body that could sustain a man through the cold night—and he sure as hell could use a little warmth in his cold house.
“You know, Jasper,” he said, making up his mind, “you’re right. I don’t want to resist her.” Vic headed down to the other end of the bar. “Well, well. Look what the storm blew in,” he said when he was facing her.
She startled, looking up at him.
He reined in his antagonism. If he wanted to get Delaney into his bed and out of his head, he’d have to forgive and forget. It was his only path to freedom. He worked to bury his bitterness and focus. “Long time no see.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You work here?”
“I own here. With Ray.”
She raised her eyebrows. “But I thought…your ranch—”
“Part-time bar owner, full-time rancher.”
“Don’t forget full-time daddy,” she said. Her eyes weren’t smiling.
“No, can’t forget that.” He leaned on the bar. Seemed charm might not work, after all. She was ready to condemn him for Zach. “Why don’t we just talk about this and get it over with?”
She splayed her fingers on the bar and stared at them for a beat before looking up at him through her eyelashes. She smiled and his heart melted a fraction. “Can I get a drink?”
Her voice sparked little memories in his brain. The ringlets of hair that were hidden at the nape of her neck. The tiny line that curved around the left side of her mouth when she gave the slightest smile. The sound of her laughter.
“Vic?” She didn’t blink, didn’t look away. “A drink?”
Maybe a drink would loosen her tongue, let her tell the truth, lead her to his bed, and get her the hell out of his mind. “Sure thing. What’ll it be?”
“Mmm.” Her voice was smoky, low, full of promise. “A shot of whiskey,” she said, leveling her gaze at him when he raised his eyebrows. He was pretty good at matching up women with their preferred drinks. He would have pegged her for a gin and tonic girl. Or maybe a Tom Collins. Anything but straight whiskey. Time had changed her. He poured a healthy shot of Bushmills and slid it across to her.
She sipped, then grimaced.
Ah. So she didn’t drink it regularly. He’d been more on the mark than he’d thought. But then she downed the drink, smiling faintly as she pushed the glass toward him for a refill.
After he poured, Delaney reached for the glass. Their fingers brushed, an electric charge shooting up his arm from the contact. The entire bar seemed to vanish for a split second.
“Your son looks just like you,” she said, breaking the trance.
Did he imagine wistfulness in her voice? “Poor kid,” he joked.
“He’s going to be trouble,” she added. “Just like his dad.”
“You must be thinking about someone else,” he said stiffly.
She laughed, a harsh tone coloring his memory of the sound. “Come on, Vic,” she started, then paused to knock back her drink before speaking again. “You have to admit, you worked fast.”
Automatically, he refilled her glass. No, he’d mourned her, first, but Sheila was there and had worn him down eventually. “You ran away.”
“Yeah, after…after I was…”
He watched her struggle to say whatever was on her mind. “After you were what?”
She leveled her gaze at him. “After you stood me up—”
“If you’d stuck around, I would have told you what happened.”
She lifted her whiskey, tilted her head back, drained the glass, and then slammed it down on the bar.
“You should slow down,” he murmured when she knocked the empty glass against the wood.
“Fill it up.”
He shook his head, never taking his eyes from her. He filled a tumbler with ice water and placed it in front of her. “I went to your parents’ house the next morning. To tell you I didn’t want to elope—”
“Right,” she snapped, fire behind her eyes. “Because you were with Sheila.”
He slammed his palm against the bar. “I was not with Sheila.”
“Oh, really? Then who’s Zach’s mother?”
“That was after you took off, Delaney.”
“I left town because you were with her that morning.” She drank down half of her water, then grabbed her whiskey glass and held it up, signaling she was ready for yet another. “I saw you two, all nice and cozy.”
He took the glass from her, putting it in the sink. He remembered coming out of his house that morning, freshly showered and shaved and dressed in his Sunday best, only to find a jealous Sheila on his porch. He’d had to pry her arms off of him, wanting desperately to go formally ask Red West for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Sheila had blubbered mascara all over his pressed white shirt, and by the time he’d changed and finally made it to the West ranch, Delaney had taken off. Gone for good, it turned out. “Nothing happened.”
“Sure.” She ran her fingers through her hair, then pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Three forty-five. That ring a bell?”
The time they were supposed to have met at the Chain Tree, in the dark hours before dawn. He nodded. “I remember.”
“You didn’t show up.”
“And you pitted everyone against me with that story you concocted. Pressuring you.” He scoffed, batting down the bitterness tingeing his thoughts. He let his attraction for her rise to the surface instead. The attraction they’d never consummated. It was now or never. Get her out of his head once and for all. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
She glanced around, looked at Jasper and Alan, then back at him like she was suddenly aware that they were hashing this out in public.
He seized the moment, moving to the other side of the bar in a flash. He wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Come on.”
She balked. “Come where?”
“With me.”
“No. I’m meeting Carmen—”
So she was still friends with Carmen Rios. Good for Delaney that she could pick up right where she’d left off when she’d bailed on him and San Julio. But they had one piece of unfinished business themselves. “Mary Jane!” he bellowed. “When Carmen Rios shows up, tell her Delaney will be back in a minute.”
Mary Jane nodded and he dragged Delaney off the barstool, through the crowd in the dining room, and to the wide staircase that led to his office and the card room where a few regulars played their weekly poker game at the round table, comfortable in their Naugahyde club chairs. There was no game tonight, so the lights were dim and the room would be chilly, but he didn’t need light or warmth to proposition Delaney.
“Vic,” she began, but her feet tangled under her.
He tightened his grip to keep her upright until they were down the stairs and he had her leaning up against the brick interior wall.
“Delaney,” he said, turning her around before letting go. “It’s time we make a deal.”
Chapter Five
Delaney stared at Vic, the card room sliding into dark as her vision grew blurred by whiskey and desire and pent-up anger. Her good intentions were shot to hell. She’d planned to meet Carmen, her oldest friend, to tell her everything about her past and to see if Carmen could help her figure out what was happening to her when she sleepwalked. She needed a confidant. She needed to not feel so alone. But three drinks and she couldn’t think straight. Her arm tingled where Vic had been holding it, his mere touch driving her topsy-turvy.
She leaned against the rough brick wall of the card room. If she focused, she could keep her gaze locked on Vic’s eyes, not let it stray to the body she’d known so well once upon a time, to the arms that had held her close, to the hands that had touched her with a knowledge she’d not experienced since, to the parts of him she’d never known but had kept her up nights wanting.
She didn’t know what to make of Vic’s question, but her mind wasn’t clear enough to unravel the meaning without asking. “What kind of deal?” She was sure her voice was slurring.
He paced the length of the card room, coming back to face her a moment later. “I want us to sleep together.”
“Wh-what?” Her knees gave out and she started to slide down the wall. She flung her hands back, pressing her palms against the bricks to hold her steady.
“You’re in my head, Laney. I want us to sleep together so I can get you out of it.”
She stared at him, speechless. Was he serious? Sleeping with Vic was so not what she needed. “That’s not going to happen,” she said, but her face heated and warmth pooled low in her stomach from the suggestion. Her whiskey-colored mind could imagine Vic’s hands on her body, could feel his lips on her skin, could summon up every last fire-laden nerve he’d ignited in her as a young woman.
Vic held her gaze as if he had her in a trance.
After a solid minute, she couldn’t stand the quiet. “I’m sorry about all that stuff I said at the vet’s office.”
He let a beat of silence fill the air between them, and then said, “All of it?”
She swallowed, trying to remember exactly what she’d said. “Some, at least.”
“Well then, you can make it up to me,” he said, his words light but his tone laced with a hard edge.
Afraid to look at him again, she stared straight ahead. “Oh, yeah? Is that your standard line?”
“I don’t have a line.”
“Right.”
“You can believe what you want, Laney, but I’ve always been straight with you.”
Her head clouded at the old nickname he kept using. He was the only one to call her Laney, and hearing it again opened up a fissure inside her. “So you were straight with me when you said you said you wanted to marry me but then stood me up.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “I bet you and the boys had a good laugh over that one.”
His mouth drew into a taut line. He wasn’t laughing now, she thought.
“Did you or did you not want a real wedding?” he asked.
She hadn’t cared about the type of wedding they had. She’d only wanted to marry him. A headache crept up the back of her neck. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was opening herself up for ridicule by admitting anything to him. “I didn’t want any kind of a wedding,” she ground out.
Vic watched her intently, as if he knew she was lying through her teeth. Her mouth grew dry and without thinking, she wet her lips with her tongue. His gaze seemed to follow the action. “Sure you did,” he said.
He moved toward her like a panther, stopping in front of her. He put one hand beside her head and she swayed, her body suddenly alight with desire, every single one of her nerves betraying her. Twelve years ago he’d left her waiting for him at the Chain Tree, but he was here now, his fresh, woodsy scent winding through her and wrapping around her heart, making her forget how he’d hurt her to the core. His button-down shirt hung like a thin curtain between them, the fabric of her floral dress not nearly enough of a barrier against his proximity. Her nipples pulled as he moved a breath closer. The warmth that had settled low in her gut moved down, her thighs tingling with arousal, heat centering between her legs.
“We’re both still pissed off. If you plan on staying in San Julio, we’re going to see each other. I don’t want all this anger and frustration hanging over me. This is the only way I can let go of the past.” His gaze pinioned hers, then swept down to the swell of her breasts, his fingers tracing her jawline.
She shivered from the touch. She might as well have been naked in front of him, the way he made her body come alive.
“And I bet,” he said, “that you need to let go, too.”
She laughed, struggled for air, the sound growing hysterical. “I’ve been trying to let go of the past for years. Sleeping with you isn’t going to make it happen.”
He hesitated, and then ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. Her knees started to give again. His voice grew seductive. “I’m tired of wondering…”
Oh, God. She swallowed, then knocked his hand away. “I’ve never wondered,” she lied.
Another heavy moment of silence sat between them. Maybe he was right and all she needed to let go of the past was to sleep with Vic. Get him out of her system. But she didn’t have to test that theory.
At length, he stepped back. “Okay,” he said lightly, but she could see his eyes cloud. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”
Delaney shook her head and headed back up the stairs. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Now she just had to convince herself.
…
A little while later, Delaney sat opposite Carmen at a little table in El Charro’s dining room. They’d leaned in, head to head, and Delaney had told her everything. Well, almost everything. Carmen gripped her hand, squeezing as Delaney told her what had happened after Vic hadn’t shown up that night, and how her nightmares and sleepwalking had invaded every pore of her body and taken over every moment of her life. But she couldn’t tell Carmen about the rape. She wasn’t ready.
“Maybe he’s right,” Carmen said. “It started with Vic. Maybe it needs to end with him.” Carmen had always been the optimist. From the time she and her sister, Jo, had lost their mother, Carmen had never given up her desire for a happy ending. She hadn’t found it yet, but she’d keep trying.
Delaney was more cynical, but then, she had good reason. There was no such thing as a happy ending. The night she’d planned on eloping with Vic had seen to that.
“Sleeping together is not going to help anything.” She’d tried to dull her senses in a slew of ways, and nothing had ever worked. Not therapy. Not alcohol. Nothing made her sleepwalking go away. Sex with Vic wouldn’t be a magic charm, either.
“If I can help…” Carmen’s words trailed off.
It was a nice offer, but there wasn’t anything anybody could do. “Let’s dance.” Delaney grabbed Carmen’s hand and pulled her to the crowded dance floor. She turned her back to the bar, but there was no mistaking the heat of Vic’s gaze on her. He had some nerve suggesting that “deal.” The Rio Grande would freeze over before she would ever accept.
Vic Vargas could try all he wanted, but she’d show him just how out of the realm of possibility his deal actually was.
…
Vic felt like a damn Peeping Tom, the way he watched Delaney. He’d seen the longing in her eyes when he’d had her up against the wall. Seen her commiserate with Carmen at a little table in the dining room. She seemed shaken, but the fact was, he was shaken, too. If she wasn’t willing to bury their past, he had no ch
oice but to get her the hell out of his mind.
The band was in full swing, raucous laughter coming from the dance floor. Vic tracked the sounds, saw Delaney shimmying, arms bent over her head. She was drunk, he knew, free of her inhibitions, and he was mesmerized by the way she moved.
She seemed to have a sixth sense about him watching her. She turned and gazed at him through her sooty eyelashes, almost taunting him to resist her.
He ran his hand over his face again. Jesus, did she know what that look did to a man?
Gaze intent, he watched her, his body instantly reacting to the sway of her hips, his mind reeling from the temptation of her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on just by watching a woman dance.
Never, he thought. No other woman had ever made him feel like Delaney made him feel.
Around midnight, jealousy knifed through him with full force. He’d had enough of seeing her dance with other men. She may have turned down his proposition, but he wasn’t giving up. The mere idea of making her shudder with abandon was suddenly all he could think about. That, and kissing her impossibly full, sexy lips again and again until that damn taunting smile was trapped under his mouth.
A few minutes later, she sauntered up to the bar. “I’m going, Vic,” she said, her words slurring from the additional round of drinks Mary Jane had poured her.
He challenged her with his gaze. “You are not driving.”
Carmen came up behind her and raised her hand. “Nope. I’m the designated driver tonight,” she said, looking at Vic like she knew all his deep, dark secrets.
So Laney had told her friend about his deal. Well, hell.
Vic nodded, watching as Delaney slipped her jacket on and slung her purse over her shoulder, her cowboy hat in her hand.
“Laney.”
Her head snapped up, then she instantly turned away. His nickname for her still resonated.
Hell no, he thought, watching her ignore him and walk outside into the dark night. No way was he giving up. And suddenly he was looking forward to exorcising her from his soul.
Sacrifice of Passion (Deadly Legends) Page 4