Restless Spirit

by Cassie Miles

  “Turn around,” he said in a husky voice.

  She spun in a quick circle, and her hair swirled.

  “Slower,” he said.

  She enjoyed enticing him. She craned her neck as she turned and peeked over her shoulder at him.

  “Come here,” Mace ordered.

  As soon as she was close, he dragged her down onto his lap. He buried his fingers in her hair, smoothing the strands, pulling gently until her head tilted back.

  His kiss was slow and sensuous, thoroughly exploring her mouth. His hands caressed her through her clothing, as though they were making out. Though it had been long ago since she’d lost her virginity, she felt as though this was truly the first time she’d made love.

  When their room service arrived, Mace whipped the cart inside, tipped the waiter and rushed him out the door. He stood beside her at the sofa and held out his hand. “Come with me to the bedroom.”

  “But we should eat dinner while it’s hot.”

  “I’m hungry for you.”

  How could she refuse? She took his hand, following him into the hotel bedroom.

  His hands were fast and sure, as he unbuttoned his shirt and tore it off, exposing his smooth, sienna chest and muscular torso. When she tried to be equally quick, he caught her hands. “Let me.”

  He lifted her sweater slowly, gliding it up and over her head, untangling the material from her hair. He removed her skirt, her slip, her bra. Then, finally, his trousers. They stood naked before each other, except for the silver necklace he always wore. The cool metal gleamed. The bear totem rested in the hollow of his throat.

  She placed her hand on his chest. Her milky skin glowed iridescently against the deep bronze tone of his firm, muscular flesh. They seemed beautiful together. The perfect contrast. The perfect balance.

  He carried her to the bed and arranged her on the sheets, then he lay beside her. His gaze melted over her. “I want to touch you everywhere,” he murmured.

  The strokes of his fingertips alternated. First he was light as a mountain breeze. Then he claimed her flesh, massaging deeply. “You’re so soft,” he said. “Your skin. It’s like satin.”

  He pinched her nipples between his fingertips and rolled the sensitive nubs. Tingling excitement spread through her body.

  She reached down and held him, gradually increasing the pressure of her grasp until he exhaled a moan of passion. “Don’t stop.”

  But his expression, at the edge of ecstasy, was so beautiful that she paused. Nearly overwhelmed, she marveled at his dark radiance, the flash of his white teeth and his deep ebony eyes. His body was well-defined perfection. Lean and strong.

  “Make love to me, Mace. Now.”

  He carefully spread her thighs, hooking his legs over hers. Their gazes locked as he stroked her, preparing her gently, making sure she was moist and ready for him.

  “Now,” she demanded. “Now.”

  “First this.” He leaned over the edge of the bed, fished around in his trousers and came up with a condom.

  “Of course,” she said. She wasn’t thinking about protection, but he was. Mace would always do the right thing. She could trust him to never hurt her.

  He rose above her, supporting himself on his elbows, careful not to put his entire weight on her body. Never had there been a more considerate and skillful lover.

  When he entered her, hard and strong, she erupted in a burst of desire, hot as a lava flow. Again and again, he thrust. She shuddered as brilliant, cataclysmic starbursts rocked her world.

  Making love with him was everything she hoped for and more. She couldn’t believe it. Again and again she was surprised by one climax after another.

  Lovemaking had never been like this before. She’d always held back, fearful of losing control. With Mace she abandoned all restraint. She cried his name and clawed at his back like a wild creature. She was driven, consumed by desire.

  Finally, when their passion was spent, they collapsed side by side on the bed.

  The very expensive dinner in the other room was getting cold, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the man who stretched out beside her. Her hero.

  His head turned toward her. All the tension had left his face. He looked completely relaxed. “I’d say this was worth the trip to Denver.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You know I’ll always take good care of you.”

  “I know.” And she believed him. All the misfortunes in her life faded away. Her future was sunlight and honey, bright and sweet.

  She was surprised to find an appetite for dinner. The food she’d ordered was better than anything she’d eaten before. She felt as if she could savor each individual ingredient.

  Quite possibly the charm of their dinner was heightened by their nudity. There seemed to be no need for clothing.

  Other times when she’d made love, Nicole couldn’t wait to get dressed and hide herself. With Mace she felt unselfconscious and natural. She enjoyed the way he’d reach over and casually touch her hair, and it was a sheer pleasure to watch him, to admire his body. She felt sexy and innocent at the same time.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, “we’re going to meet Blake Wentworth for lunch at one o’clock.”

  “Ugh! That sounds like a recipe for indigestion. Do I have to come along?”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he promised. “Especially not while we’re in Denver.”

  She liked his concern for her safety. “You’re so different from anybody I’ve ever known.”

  “I can say the same about you.” He chuckled.

  She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin. “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m always amused by the way you eat. So prim and proper. It’s especially cute while you’re naked.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Did you want me to get dressed?”

  “Hell, no.”

  As soon as they finished dessert, he jumped her. They were rowdy as a couple of kids, making love again and again, until they fell into a blissfully exhausted sleep.

  THE NEXT MORNING Nicole woke to find him staring at her. She smiled lazily. “What time is it?”

  “Almost eleven o’clock. The way I figure, we’ve got just enough time to make love in the shower before we meet Blake.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She stretched and yawned, flinging an arm across his torso. “Last night was the best time I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

  He hugged her, then sat up on the bed and unfastened his necklace. “I want you to have this.”

  She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the surprise she felt. “Wasn’t the bear a gift from Tata Charlie?”

  “It’s my most precious possession. Like you, it’s something I’ll never let out of my sight.”

  His words felt important, but she’d didn’t understand why. “What are you saying?”

  “I want you to be with me forever, Nicole. Will you marry me?”

  “I can’t.” A sharp chill pierced her morning bliss. “I can’t marry you, Mace. Because I’m still married to Derek.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  His fingers closed tightly over the bear totem. The turquoise and silver beads felt cold in his hand. Mace had almost given his heart to a woman who lied to him once and was still lying. She had betrayed his trust in the worst way. She was still married.

  He had no right to be in bed with her, no right to be thinking of her as his mate.

  “You led me to believe,” he said, “that you were divorced.”

  “I ran away from Derek,” she said. “I was afraid to file for divorce, afraid he’d find me.”

  “You lied to me.”

  She sat up on the bed and pulled up the sheet to cover her nakedness. “I never said I was divorced.”

  “Maybe not in so many words, but—”

  “Not in any words,” she said.

  Her blue eyes pleaded for understanding. They had worked so hard to develop trust. From his first interrogation, when she told
him virtually nothing, to this latest evasion, they had run through every shade of trust and mistrust. She wasn’t a liar, but she hadn’t been honest with him. She couldn’t be honest. There were secrets she always kept hidden in her heart.

  “You should have told me,” he said.

  “Now you know.”

  She tossed her head, and her incredible blond hair tumbled over her shoulder. God, she was beautiful. Last night had been the fulfillment of a dream. The sheer physical pleasure of their lovemaking was unsurpassed in his experience.

  But Mace needed more than great sex, and he doubted it was possible for Nicole to give herself completely and without reservation. There was always something she held back because of her fear, her abusive past or from habit.

  “Please,” she said. “You’ve got to trust me.”

  “You’ve got it backward, Nicole. You’re the one who’s incapable of trust. Your secrets stand between us.”

  He looked down at the necklace in his hand. Tata Charlie had given it to him when he came of age. It was a symbol of his manhood. A real man, a confident man, would forgive her. But Mace wasn’t perfect.

  Opening his hand, he allowed the polished silver to fall onto the bed between them.

  The necklace should have been symbolic of a promise that he would always be there. He would always protect her. What a futile effort! “I can’t save you from your past.”

  “Ask me anything,” she said quickly. “Please, Mace, I’ll tell you anything.”

  “We should be going.” He rose from the bed and strode toward the bathroom. “We have a lunch date with Blake at one o’clock.”

  “Stop.” She stood on the bed with the sheets pulled up to her chest. “This isn’t fair. You don’t respect me because of who I once was.”

  She’d gone on the attack. Her accusation was an arrow through his heart. “What are you saying?”

  “You’re just like everybody else.” Her voice dripped with venom as she struck out at him. “You hate me.”

  “Nicole, I don’t hate you.”

  “You think anybody who puts up with abuse is weak and pitiful. You think I liked being a trophy wife, but you can never know how hard my life has been.” She dashed away a tear. “I allowed my husband to mistreat me. Not because I liked it. But because I was trapped. There was no escape.”

  “I believe you,” he said. “But you’ve got to let it go. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life rescuing you.”

  “I thought you wanted to protect me.”

  “You’ve got to rescue yourself first,” he said. “You have to find the strength within yourself to conquer your fear.”

  Until then, Mace knew, there was no chance for a real, honest relationship. Until she felt safe within herself, there would always be lies and manipulation, even though she didn’t mean to play games—just like she didn’t mean to lash out at him—the pattern was there.

  He turned away from her and entered the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him. Damn it! How could she not mention that she was still married? There had been dozens of opportunities for her to tell him. Even when Daisy was joking around about catering their wedding, Nicole might have dropped in a mention that she wasn’t, in fact, a single woman.

  He turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, washing away the lingering scent of their passion. He loved her, and that wouldn’t change. But there was no place for that love to grow because she wouldn’t let him get close. Damn it!

  Now he was mad. And that was exactly what she expected. In her book all men were bad. All men were abusers like her ex-husband…make that her current husband.

  He finished his shower, toweled dry and rubbed a space in the steamed-up bathroom mirror to shave. As far as he was concerned, the ball was in her court. If she was ready to try a relationship with him, she had to take the first step with complete honesty, nothing held back. No blame.

  Until then, they were friends. Nothing more.

  Actually, he was also a sheriff. And he had a job to do while they were in Denver. He needed to get some answers from Blake Wentworth.

  Mace exhaled and forced himself to overcome his emotional turmoil about Nicole, the woman he loved but might never have. His brain started working out another theory of the kidnapping and murder of Joey Wentworth.

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Mace and Nicole strolled down the Sixteenth Street Mall in downtown Denver, headed for a Lower Downtown restaurant. She felt like she was walking in the past. Flustered. Frightened. Furious.

  Mace said, “You already know my theory about Blake being involved in the kidnapping. He probably hired professional thugs to do the actual abduction and murder.”

  “Right.”

  She and Mace hadn’t discussed their argument in the hotel bedroom. Neither of them apologized or forgave. Now he was sounding off on another of his theories…as if last night had never happened.

  “But pegging Blake as the mastermind doesn’t explain everything,” Mace said. “First, there was the mess at the cabin that made it look like a robbery.”

  “And the theft of my money,” she added. Though she didn’t want to talk about the crime, she wouldn’t indulge in a childish silent treatment.

  “The only one who could have tossed the cabin was Joey. The Feds did a thorough forensic investigation. They found no fingerprints, no mud from footprints, no fibers, no hairs. Nothing. Plus, professional thugs would know better than to break the bathroom window from the inside.”

  “I’ll concede the point,” she said coldly. If Mace intended to ignore the greatest passion in the history of the world, fine. If he wanted to pretend he didn’t propose, fine. “Joey messed up the cabin. So what?”

  “Here’s another piece of evidence. Throughout this kidnapping, the ransom delivery and the aftermath, the kidnappers focused on you. But the thugs didn’t know you. Nor does Blake. The only person who would insist on your involvement had to be Joey.”

  She halted on the sidewalk, glaring. “So, you still think Joey instigated his own kidnapping.”

  “He worked out the details with his uncle, who hired the professionals. The motive for the Wentworth boys—Joey and Blake—was to get their hands on a share of that ransom money.”

  “Much as I hate to burst your bright red balloon,” she said, “Joey’s dead. Did he plan that, too?”

  “Something went wrong,” Mace said. “They had to get rid of him.”

  Though he faced her, Mace didn’t make eye contact. His attitude was distant and uninvolved. And she didn’t know how to deal with this behavior. In her experience an argument usually meant violence followed by apology. Making up was the bonus.

  But Mace hadn’t hit her or even threatened her. Instead of responding to her own anger, he walked away. Well, fine. She was the expert at stonewalling. As soon as she picked up her stuff in Elkhorn, she’d be gone.

  He started walking again, leaving her to catch up with him. “The restaurant is two blocks up. An Italian place.”

  Nicole assessed the restaurant with a professional eye. Nice decor. Well-stocked bar. The clientele seemed to be mainly professional people in business suits. It wouldn’t be a bad place to work.

  Mace requested a table by the window so they could watch for Blake. She perused the menu, deciding on fettuccine Alfredo and a calamari appetizer. When the waitress asked for their drink order, Nicole asked for a sweet merlot.

  “An orange soda for me,” Mace said.

  “No wine?”

  “I’m working,” he said.

  She carefully placed her napkin on her lap. “I suppose that means our vacation is over.”

  “I’m not opposed to conversation.”

  And so they talked about the weather and the Broncos and how much Denver had grown. It was the sort of impersonal chat she might have had on a bus. Though she longed to say something more probing and personal, Nicole held herself in check.

  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He was the one who rejected her, after al
l. He accused her of lying. He didn’t think she was good enough, pure enough, perfect enough for him.

  Halfway through the meal, Mace excused himself and put in a call to Blake on his cell phone. While he talked, she watched him surreptitiously, searching for a sign that he regretted what had happened.

  He disconnected the call. “Blake isn’t going to make it to lunch. He wants us to meet him at his home in southwest Denver at five o’clock.”

  “Then I guess we’ll be spending another night in Denver,” she said.

  Their gazes met across the table. Sparks flew. She knew they were both remembering last night’s passionate lovemaking, their naked bodies entwined in the sheets. They’d been joined as one.

  “We’ll drive back tonight,” Mace said. “I’ll use the rental car.”

  “I don’t mind staying,” she said. If he gave her another night, their differences might be resolved. There were very few problems between a man and a woman that couldn’t be solved by great sex.

  “That’s not the answer,” he said tersely. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “I’m not following,” she said. “What was the question?”

  “Think about it, Nicole.”

  She threw up her hands. “Why does this have to be so complicated? Why can’t we have a good time with each other and then…”

  “Move on? Run away?” He shook his head. “I want more from you. A lifetime of commitment and trust. I want you to believe in yourself as much as you believe in me or anybody else. Then you can answer the question I asked this morning.”

  Will you marry me?

  The unspoken words hung between them. If she gave a quick yes, she’d betray him and herself as well. Before she promised to love and honor him, Nicole must come to terms with her fear. Not a simple task. “I can’t figure this out in a few minutes.”

  He reached across the table, clasped her hand and lightly squeezed her fingers. “I’m a patient man.”

  All her life she’d waited for a man like Mace—a man who cared enough about her to do the right thing. But what was the right thing? Where should she start in taking charge of her life? “My mother said that good things were worth working for.”