"That was when I began to think maybe I wasn't the only one who liked fried pork rinds," she said.
Her act ended with a couple of gags about relations between the sexes that she'd recycled from her Stitches routines. Hunter was out of his seat before she'd blown her signature parting kiss to the audience. In his haste to intercept her he slalomed around tables in the dimly lit club, nearly knocking over a busboy balancing a tray full of grimy dishes. Onstage, the emcee introduced the next act, a Bobcat Goldthwaite wanna-be who began whining his way through a bizarre routine about road rage.
Just as Hunter reached the stage door, it swung open and Raven stepped out. Now that she was standing there, right in front of him, all he could do was fling his arms out and let his befuddled expression ask what the hell was going on.
"Nice to see you, too," she said, rising on her toes to plant a soft kiss on his mouth.
"Let's get out of here." He grabbed her arm.
"Wait, I've got to get my things. I'll meet you up front."
A half minute later Raven joined Hunter at the club entrance. He helped her into her coat and led her out into the cool, damp night. "Is your car here?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's a rental." She pointed out a blue Corolla parked two rows away. "I flew up."
"Let's take mine."
"Where?" she asked.
"I don't know. Nowhere." He thumbed the remote entry, and the Outback obligingly beeped. "Just get in."
They settled into the front bucket seats. Hunter started the engine but didn't put the vehicle in gear. Sitting parked with Raven outside a comedy club reminded him all too vividly of the last time he'd seen her, five days ago, when he'd abruptly taken off after making love to her—if he could even call that impulsive, brusque act "making love."
"Why did you come here?" he asked.
With quiet sincerity she said, "Because I love you."
Hunter closed his eyes. Her words curled around his heart, swelling his chest, warming him. On some level he'd always known she loved him, even as he'd tried to convince himself—and Raven—that hers was a superficial attraction.
He opened his eyes, stared out the windshield into the dark night. He forced himself to say, "I told you, Raven. I won't take you from my brother."
"It's not like that." She laid her cold hand over his, where it rested on his thigh. "Brent and I are through."
"Raven—"
"I knew we were through last week, when you and I … when I saw you last. I didn't want to tell you before I told him."
"None of that matters. Don't you understand? It's bad enough I came between you two. If it weren't for me, you and Brent would've made it work—"
Her snort of amusement cut him off. "Hunter, do you think I'd willingly spend the rest of my life with a man I couldn't trust? Weren't you listening in there?" She jerked her head toward the club. "I would've given him the boot as soon as I found out about Marina, if it weren't for the Wedding Ring."
"The Wedding Ring." Despite everything, he had to smile. "You and your pals are certifiable—you know that, don't you?" The engine had warmed enough for him to switch the heater on. Warm air blew from the vents.
"Are we going to sit here all night?" she asked.
After a moment Hunter said, "There's a quiet parlor in the inn where I'm staying. We can talk there."
Her voice held a smile. "You don't trust me enough to take me to your room?"
"It's not you I don't trust," he muttered as he backed out of the parking space. "I can't believe you can even joke about it, after the way I treated you last Wednesday."
"What do you mean?"
"Just for the record, Raven, that wasn't my usual style. I wish I'd…" He sighed. "Well, if it was going to happen' it shouldn't have happened that way. I wasn't thinking, I was just … I don't know what I was doing."
"Well, whatever you were doing, it was pretty damn exciting."
He pulled onto the road. "I was afraid I'd hurt you."
"Like I said. Exciting." She laughed at the dubious look he shot her. "No lasting damage."
He frowned. "Well, I can do better. I didn't even wait for you to finish."
"So how about I give you a chance to make it up to me?"
"This is not a joke, Raven. It can never happen again. You shouldn't have come up here."
"I told you, Brent and I were finished anyway. It had nothing to do with you."
"What about the pact? I thought you had to keep seeing him for another month."
"Forget it. I just rewrote the rules."
He took note of her unyielding expression. "It makes no difference why you broke up with him. He's still my brother. For me to take up with the woman he had his heart set on marrying—"
"And if I told you that it was Brent who sent me after you?"
"What?"
"He contacted all your friends, your folks, everyone, trying to find out where you'd gone. He spent hours on the phone Friday night and Saturday morning."
"My folks? He talked to my folks? Did he tell them about us? You and me?"
"Yep. They were, well, surprised," Raven said, with a wry smile, "but in the end I think they figured if it was okay with Brent, it was okay with them."
"It's okay with Brent," Hunter repeated, awestruck.
"You didn't tell anyone where you were off to," Raven continued, "but Brent figured your assistant manager had to know. You wouldn't take chances when it came to the club. Finally he tracked Matt to his girlfriend Jerri's apartment. Apparently you'd sworn him to secrecy. Jerri let slip that you'd gone to Killington, but Matt wouldn't tell him where you were staying. You weren't registered at any of the hotels or motels in the area. I don't ski downhill, so I spent two days haunting the lift lines, the main building, everywhere, trying to spot you. I had you paged, but you never responded."
"I spent most of my time on the meaner slopes." Punishing himself, trying to forget why he'd fled New York.
"I called Brent today, at the end of my rope," she said. "It was his idea to check out the local comedy clubs."
"But how did you know which one I'd be at? There area few."
"I drove around, scoped out the parking lots. When I got to the Padded Cell, I spotted your trusty steed." She patted the dashboard.
"Then when you found out it was open-mike night…" He chuckled, incredulous. "You went through all that, just to run me to ground?"
"Well, no one knew when you were coming back—not even Matt. I was afraid you were determined to hide out until Brent and I had tied the knot and started filling a minivan with 2.3 kids."
"Brent really did that? Helped track me down so you and I could be together? I find that hard to believe."
"Your brother loves you, Hunter. He wants you to be happy. He knows how I feel about you. And he knows you … feel something for me."
Hunter heard the question in her voice. What courage it must have taken for Raven to lay her heart bare, not just before him but before the entire rowdy audience at the Padded Cell, with no guarantee that he returned her love. An hour ago, he'd thought he had this whole mess figured out, had resigned himself to maintaining a polite distance from his sister-in-law for the rest of his life. Now he grappled with this latest, remarkable development, hardly daring to believe it was true, that Raven could be his, that Brent not only approved but had taken an active role in getting them together.
Raven said, "You can call him if you don't believe me."
"I don't think you're lying, angel, I just… It's all just a little overwhelming." Hunter swung the car into the gravel drive of the Wilton Street Inn, a sprawling yellow clapboard house built in the last century. He looked at Raven, at her sweetly earnest expression, her tender smile. "Did you really give him back his ring?"
"I never accepted it in the first place. Let him save it for Marina."
Hunter chewed back a grin. "I've seen the ring. Something tells me it's not Marina's style. And anyway, Brent has no intention of marrying her."
"Oh, I thi
nk he may surprise you."
"More surprises? Why didn't I see that one coming?" He found a spot in the parking area behind the house and cut the engine and headlights. Little light from the full moon made it into the car. He felt more than saw Raven—sensed her warmth, her fragrance. "Speaking of surprises—you know, I didn't use anything. You could be pregnant."
"Well, then, you'll just have to marry me."
A crack of laughter burst from Hunter. God, it felt good to laugh. "Try and stop me. And if you're not pregnant, we'll just have to keep working on it." Startled by his own impulsive words, he asked softly, "How do you feel about that?"
"Are you asking me if I want to have a baby?" she breathed. "Your baby?"
Hunter reached across the darkness separating them. He stroked her satiny cheek. "I love you, Raven. I love you and I need you and dammit, let's get married! Soon. We don't have to wait until there's a baby on the way."
"A wedding first," she said with a laugh. "What a novel concept. What about Stitches?"
"That's a great idea! We've done private parties at the club, but never a wedding."
"No, I mean—I thought you weren't interested in marriage," she said as they let themselves out of the car. "You told me the club was all the responsibility you could handle at one time."
"And you listened to me?" He slid his arm around her back and steered her toward the inn's side entrance. "I was young and foolish. And I'd never been in love."
"Yeah, about that young part…"
"What?"
"Doesn't it bother you? That I'm so much older?"
"This is a joke, right?" He opened the door and ushered her into the hallway off the kitchen, invitingly warm and perfumed with the rich, yeasty aromas of baking. He heard Mrs. Strange, the innkeeper, warbling off-key in the kitchen, accompanying Lyle Lovett on her radio. Muted conversation drifted from the public rooms as Hunter led Raven toward the wide curved stairway with its thick burgundy carpeting and polished oak banister.
"Is this the way to that nice quiet parlor?" she asked with a crooked grin.
"No, it's the way to my nice private room. Don't change the subject. What's with this 'so much older' stuff?"
"Four years," she said. "That's a significant difference."
"To who? Raven, there are four years between you and Brent, too. I didn't see either of you getting worked up over it."
"That's—" She broke off.
"Different? Why? Because no one thinks anything if the guy is older, that's why. It's expected."
"You're used to perky young girls," she grumbled, following him down the second-floor hallway as he fished the room key from his pocket. "Like Kirsten."
Laughing, Hunter opened the door. "After everything, you still need reassurance that I find you sexy and desirable? That if I live to be a hundred and twenty. I'll still find you sexy and desirable?" Hooking his arm around Raven's waist, he unceremoniously hauled her into the room and slammed the door shut.
* * *
Chapter 17
«^»
Without warning, Hunter lifted Raven and deposited her on the nearby low dresser, a fussy antique piece crafted of glossy dark wood and topped with a crocheted lace runner she could just make out in the moonlight pouring in through sheer window curtains. Her senses whirled as he kissed her with breathtaking intensity, stepping between her legs and pulling her hard against him, causing her trench coat and her long, slate blue skirt to ride up her legs.
Urgent little sounds bubbled up her throat as she kissed him back. He groaned and pressed closer, the ridge of his erection nudging her through their clothing.
"You're pretty hot for an old broad," he teased, chuckling when she retaliated with a solid whack on his shoulder. He stripped off his down vest and tossed it across the room onto the braided rug next to the high four-poster, double bed. Next he shed his beige flannel shirt, leaving him in a charcoal-gray turtleneck and jeans. Unfastening the buttons of her trench coat, he said, "Here's a radical idea. How about this time I get you out of this thing first?"
"Out of a whole lot more than that, I hope."
The look Hunter gave her could have melted steel. Pale moonlight glinted in his dark hair and picked out the bold planes and angles of his face. He pushed the coat off her and kissed her again, slower this time, and deeper. The galloping tattoo of his heartbeat made her dizzy. So did his heat, the scent of his skin, the repressed power she detected in his every movement. Even his abrasive beard stubble inflamed her.
He kneed her legs farther apart, widening his stance as if he meant to take her right there on the dresser top. His long fingers splayed over her scalp as his tongue plunged and retreated, tasting, promising.
Finally he broke off with a ragged moan. "We've got to slow down. I don't want a repeat of last Wednesday."
"Maybe next time," Raven said.
A lopsided smile split his face. "You really liked seeing me lose control, didn't you?"
She wrenched his turtleneck out of the waistband of his jeans and pulled it up. Obligingly he raised his arms and helped tug it over his head. Raven had never seen Hunter's bare torso before. She stroked her fingers up his forearms, liberally covered with soft, dark hair, to the sinewy smoothness of his upper arms. Her fingertips traced a ropy vein before moving on to his shoulders, hard with muscle.
He stood still as she explored his body, watching her, his expression endearingly patient, but with a smoldering undercurrent that revved her pulse.
Raven caressed Hunter's firm chest, scraping her nails lightly through the wedge of hair and around the flat nipples, delighting in his breathy chuckle. She followed the trail of hair down his tight belly to his navel, just peeking out of his pants.
"My turn." He reached for the slate-blue V-neck sweater.
"Not yet." Raven slid off the dresser and unbuckled his belt. She'd spent two long months wondering what Hunter looked like without his clothes, and as far as she was concerned, the wait was over. She let him yank off his scuffed leather boots and socks, then she divested him of his jeans.
Underneath he wore snug-fitting, gray knit boxer shorts that dung to his lean hips and brawny thighs. He looked so good in the boxers that she would have been tempted to let him keep them on, if it weren't for a certain eye-catching bulge that commanded her attention.
"Allow me." She knelt and slipped her fingers into the white elastic waistband.
Smiling, he lifted his arms away from his sides. "Be my guest."
Raven's heart fluttered in her throat as she carefully worked the stretchy fabric over the rigid column of his penis and down his legs. The sense of womanly power was intoxicating, but no more so than the realization that this remarkable man wanted her not just for tonight but for a lifetime.
She rose and, with a soft laugh, slipped out of his reach. "Not that I think there are any Peeping Toms in the neighborhood, but…" She drew the shades under the sheer curtains, ensuring their privacy. Crossing to the nightstand, she touched the switch on the small table lamp. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not."
Raven turned on the lamp, casting the room in a soft light. Hunter displayed no self-consciousness as she stared at him, despite his flagrant state of arousal. It wasn't that he was Vain, she realized; he was simply comfortable in his skin. He looked like a young god standing before her, strong and straight and heartbreakingly handsome.
"You're … magnificent," she whispered, and he smiled as if to say, And you're biased. "Do you think I'm awful, just wanting to look at you?"
"As long as that's not all you want to do."
"Not by a long shot." She unfastened her skirt and let it fall.
Hunter's gaze zeroed in on her legs. "I've got to tell you, you look incredible in those."
Raven looked down at herself. Her sweater ended at her hips, exposing a generous expanse of skin above the lacy tops of her black, thigh-high stockings. "The boots don't spoil the effect?"
"I don't know. Why don't you lose them and I'll tell y
ou."
She pulled off her brown suede half boots.
He rubbed his chin consideringly. "Still hard to say. You'd better take off the sweater, too."
With an impish smile, she pulled the sweater over her head and dropped it. She'd never been one for sexy lingerie, and now she wished she owned something more alluring than this floral-printed cotton bra and matching bikini panties. "There," she said. "Does that help?"
If Hunter found her underthings dowdy, he gave no indication. On the contrary, he was rampantly aroused, obviously reining himself in. Seeing him this way, with that feral look in his eye, stoked Raven's own excitement. Every womanly part of her hummed with awareness.
As if in slow motion, he closed the distance between them. He lifted a hand and trailed one finger from the hollow of her throat down her chest to lightly skim her cleavage. A small sound escaped Raven. Her breasts felt almost unbearably sensitized. He reached around her back, unhooked her bra and slipped the straps off her shoulders, letting it fall to their feet.
"This is like a dream." His expression was one of wonderment as he lightly touched her breasts, tracing their shape. "All this time, wanting you so badly, needing you so much and knowing you could never be mine. And now here you are—and there's nothing to keep us apart. I feel like any minute now I'm going to wake up and find out this really is all a dream."
Raven slid her arms around his neck and stepped into his embrace. "Then I'm dreaming that I'm about to share myself with the man I love. I'm dreaming that I've never been happier." She pressed closer, until her breasts were flattened against his chest, and the satiny steel of his erection prodded her belly. His fingers swept down her bare back and under the edge of her panties. She shivered as he caressed her. "I'm dreaming that if you wait much longer to make love to me, I'm going to lose my mind."
His response was a frustrated chuckle. "If you only knew how hard I'm trying not to throw you on that bed and ravish you…"
She kissed him. "Maybe I'll do the ravishing this time." She turned them around and backed him toward the bed.
"And maybe I'll let you."
LOVE'S FUNNY THAT WAY Page 14