by Billie Green
Her eyelids raised lethargically when she felt him move. He was in front of her now, and she stared up at him with dazed eyes as he held her hip to hip, their bodies still rocking from side to side, keeping time to the erotic beat.
"Maybe one of the neighbors is watching," he whispered, his eyes roaming restlessly over her face. "What will she think when she sees sweet little Rae letting her boyfriend put his hands on her body?"
His hands smoothed their way over her hips to explore the curves of her buttocks, then up her sides to the edge of her breasts, rubbing her through the cotton blouse.
"And what will she think when she sees sweet little Rae touching him back?" Keeping their lower bodies close, he brought her hands up to his chest. "You're desperate to feel bare skin under your fingers, and his shirt, just a thin layer of cotton, feels like armor plate because it's keeping you from what you need so badly."
He moved her hands, pushing them beneath his open shirt, letting them rest on the warm flesh. "That's right," he rasped against her forehead as her fingers, of their own accord, began to explore his muscled chest. "It hurts, doesn't it? Knowing that this is all you can have. Knowing that this one little taste of passion is all you'll get tonight. The thought of being caught is scary, but something is working inside you that's bigger than fear. More overpowering than fear. Something that's arousing you beyond your wildest dreams. And, that's the knowledge that I.. . that your boyfriend wants to be inside you so damned much, it's driving him right out of his mind."
She swallowed a whimper as his fingers moved closer to the tips of her breasts. "You want the rest, you're crazy to feel it all, but you can't have it, not here, not now. .. and that makes the need more intense, more exquisite. The urgency is building in both of us, becoming intolerable. Things are happening to your body, changes are taking place. Feel them? Feel the blood surging to the sensitive places? Feel the warm, slick wetness? Every square inch of your body is alive with need, screaming out for release."
Her head had dropped back, her eyes closed, her head reeling as her breath came in short, shaky gasps.
Throbbing, throbbing, in her ears and her breasts, between her thighs. Rhythmic pulsation that kept time to the music. But there was no music. It was inside her. He had put it inside her. And now there was heat. She felt it through her clothes. It was the heat of his mouth, his breath . .. no, no, the heat of his words. Only words. But the words were touching her in secret places, moving her, gently rearranging her body so that she could feel the heat. . . so that she could feel it mingling with the throbbing need. He was. . . sweet heaven, he,was—
She gave a moaning gasp, and her eyes flew open. Her breasts rose and fell in rapid, erratic movements as she backed awkwardly away from him.
He shifted his shoulders slightly. Had he moved? Had he always stood as he was standing now? He was watching her, just as she was watching him, but unlike her, he wasn't blinking in frantic confusion. He was simply watching. Watching and waiting, his dark eyes narrowed.
She could read nothing in his expression, nothing to tell her what had really happened. Had it only been words? Had she been shaken to the core by nothing more than an incredibly vivid description of an intimate act?
"Of course, it couldn't be an exact reproduction of the original," he said, as though he were picking up a conversation that had been momentarily interrupted, "but I think you get the idea."
His voice sounded normal. Or did it? she wondered, cutting uneasy eyes in his direction. She couldn't tell. She couldn't be sure. Normal was beyond her grasp. Every thought was out of focus, her senses haywire.
Raising his hand, he glanced at his watch. "You look tired. Why don't we call it quits for now and save the next lesson for another night?"
The next lesson? she thought, stifling a laugh of hysteria. She hadn't finished reeling from the current one. She didn't even want to think about what came next.
On the drive home she was still shaking inside, her hands clenched on the steering wheel in a death grip, her foot pressed to the floor in her urgency to outrun her thoughts, to outrun the knowledge that tonight she had crossed over an invisible line. She had unwittingly wandered into foreign territory.
Wild territory.
Tanner's territory.
❧
Long after Rae had left, Tanner paced the small inner boundaries of his cabin, his movements filled with a restless urgency. Occasionally, without pausing, he raked an unsteady hand through his hair, ineffectively trying to shove the thoughts out of his head.
The hounds of hell were loose tonight. They were inside him, running mad, goading him, prodding him, demanding that he take action. A specific action. An action that required the presence of a woman who was probably sleeping soundly on a pile of lacy white pillows.
An instant later his harsh laugh broke through the silence. Sweet Jesus, he was paying now for his stupidity. Just a little blaze, he had told himself. He would get a little blaze going. Just for the hell of it. Just to show he could.
But from the very first it had gone wrong. He knew it. He knew it was going wrong, but he couldn't make himself stop. And so the little blaze had gotten out of control and was now inside him, burning him up.
Burning . .. him .. . up.
A growling groan of pain came from deep in his chest. Swiveling on his heels, he moved toward the door and took the three steps in one leap as he headed for the stable.
He would ride it out. He would take Loco, the wildest, meanest horse in this part of the country, and he would ride, hard and fast, across the open range. '
He wouldn't stop until the demons were back in their cage and the fire in his gut had burned itself out.
❧
Rae glanced at the digital clock beside the bed. Two A.M. The candy-striped nightshirt had been discarded hours ago, but tonight it didn't help. She was no closer to sleep than she had been at midnight.
Unbelievable, unthinkable memories filled the room around her. Memories too vivid to be endured. Every soft night sound, every touch of the sheet, even the breeze stirred by the ceiling fan, all reminded her of Tanner's lesson and her incredible reaction. Even now, hours after the fact, every inch of her body was aflame. He had left his imprint on her, as surely as if he had used a branding iron.
With words.
Exhaling a soft groan, she sat up and covered her face with her hands. Tonight, fully dressed and sober as a judge, with a man she neither understood nor trusted, Rae had almost—
But she didn't want to think about what had almost happened. She didn't want to remember the inward clinching of her body, the dawning of exquisite pulsations at her center, sensations she recognized instantly and had shut off before they could take hold.
Brought on by words}
The most incredibly intimate act in nature. The thorough giving over of self. Willingly, even joyfully, allowing another human being to stand witness to that moment of all-encompassing vulnerability.
With nothing more than words, Tanner had set something loose inside her. But, dear sweet heaven, she didn't want it set loose. Ever. She couldn't handle it. She wanted it to go back to its hiding place and leave her alone.
Riding out a violent shudder, she slipped from the bed and walked to the window. The backyard, bathed in the platinum glow of moonlight, was a place of fantasy and peace.
Rae wanted to walk out there. She wanted to stand in the open air, her arms raised to the silver night. She wanted to feel the light summer breeze on her naked flesh, stroking her mouth, hardening the tips of her breasts, stirring the fine hair between her thighs.
And that impulse, that shocking urge, scared her almost as much as what had taken place in Tanner's cabin.
What was happening to her? Why, at this point in her life, was she discovering these incomprehensible, uncharacteristic cravings within herself? It didn't make sense. '
Drawing in a deep shaky breath, she spent the next ten minutes concentrating with fierce intensity on the flowers and shrubs, o
n the shadows thrown across the little rock terrace, but it was no use. The pattern of light and dark only reminded her of the night she first met Tanner. Fireworks and shadows. Lone Dees madness. The impact he had made on her with a single look from those dark devil's eyes.
In desperation she tried to conjure up a picture of Drew, the man she wanted to be the father of her children. The man who would never send her running into the night, afraid of her own feelings, doubting her emotional stability. Drew was steady. Solid as a rock. Totally secure.
And she couldn't even remember what color his eyes were.
Slumping down to the window seat, she bent over and hugged her bare legs to her chest. This had to stop. Somehow, she had to force reason into an unreasonable situation.
This feeling, the glorious madness she had felt when Tanner moved his body in time with hers and stroked her with husky words, wasn't all that extraordinary, she told herself. Every woman in town wanted him. Even the ones who condemned him in public saved their private moments for wondering what it would be like to have Tanner West in their beds.
Rae had seen the way women looked at him. Old and young, married and single, they all wanted him. Why should she be the exception? Lusting after Tanner was practically de rigueur.
Letting out a slow breath, she leaned back against the side of the window. This was good, she decided. Now she was getting somewhere.
Although she had always thought of herself as a supremely sensible person, she was still human. And the feelings Tanner brought out in her were probably some sort of echo of humankind's primitive past. Cavemen had short life spans. No time for dating, for exchanging phone numbers and astrological signs. It was a matter of see, want, have.
Tonight, some secret, primal urge in Rae had been ignited by a man who was himself primal, a walking call of the wild.
But it was a passing thing. She had to believe that. She couldn't make her attraction to Tanner more important than it was. Just because she had never experienced it before didn't mean it was anything out of the ordinary. Pure animal passion was something that happened all the time. She would have to accept it as a natural, albeit disconcerting, part of life.
And then she would simply have to learn to ignore it.
It was a sticky situation, but Rae was satisfied that she had found the solution. She had faced the facts, defined the problem, and mapped out a course of action.
So why wasn't she back in bed? Why was she still sitting in the window seat, rubbing her chin across up-drawn knees?
Because something was nagging at her, some difference—
That was it, she realized, sitting up straighter. She was different. In just a few short hours, she had changed. Something had been added to her mental and emotional makeup. Anticipation. Excitement. Acute awareness of possibilities. Passion for life.
For nine years she had been in a rut, plodding along, using routine to fill the empty spaces in her life, existing merely by rote. All the astonishing urges she had felt tonight meant she was coming out of her self-imposed shell. It meant she was finally opening herself up to life.
She gave a soft laugh as it dawned on her that Tanner, in his own infamous way, was doing exactly what he had told her he would do.
Chapter 6
" I have a great idea." Rae held the phone between her chin and shoulder as she dug in her purse for her car keys.
"There are two kinds of people I instinctively distrust," Glenna said, her voice sounding even more sarcastic than usual through the telephone line. "The ones who say all it takes is a little willpower and the ones who tell me they have a great idea."
Grinning, Rae glanced over her shoulder to check her appearance in the hall mirror. Wide white hat, little white gloves, and a mint-green dress of handkerchief linen. Demure and discreet. Exactly right for a luncheon hosted by the Art and Historical Society or, as Glenna dubbed them, the Daughters of Somebody Important Who's Dead Now So Why Should I Care?
Rae had agreed to go to the luncheon weeks ago, before she had taken steps to change her life. Taken steps? She thought with an inward laugh. What a tame way of putting it. Nothing that was even remotely connected to Tanner could be called tame. But for good or for bad, tomorrow night she would go to his cabin for another lesson.
"Seriously, Glenna," she said, "why don't you come out to the country club with us? I'm sure Edna wouldn't mind."
"Edna might not mind, but I would. Any time I want to eat creamed chicken and listen to snide remarks about my weight and my single state, I can go see my mother."
"But it's not just lunch. There's going to be a lecture afterward. You could use some culture."
"Morris Lemson?" Glenna's tone was incredulous. "A man who has devoted his entire life to string art? I need that like a yeast infection. If I were you, I'd manage to break a leg in the next few minutes. I can't believe you let Edna Lively sucker you into this. She put on that poor, pitiful-me act, and you bought it. That was really dumb, Rae."
Rae leaned against the wall. "Edna's having a tough time right now. Since her husband died—"
Glenna's short bark of laughter cut her off. "Since George died, Edna's been having the time of her life. Everyone keeps dropping by to check on her, bringing her food and little gifts, running errands for her, taking her places. That old lady's social life has improved about three hundred percent since she became a widow. Come on, Rae, admit it. She suckered you."
"If you want to call it that. I know Edna did some maneuvering, but I let her. I can't help thinking what it was like for me right after Johnny died. I was—" She broke off as the doorbell rang. "There she is. I hope you have a miserable day, you fink."
"I'm going to take a pumice stone to the calluses on my heels . . . and I'll still have a better time than you," Glenna said, laughing as Rae used an indelicate term and cut the connection.
Dicton's country club lay on the north edge of town. The main building, built of rock and glass, had a sleek, modern look to it. It was modern not because the community was modern, but because it had been built only twenty-five years earlier when the area's farmers, who did their socializing at the Masonic and VFW lodges, stopped being Dicton's most important citizens. The businesspeople who took over were more cosmopolitan. They understood about keeping up with the Joneses, and since Kliester had a country club, Dicton had to have one as well.
The club boasted two dining rooms. One was not much more than a snack bar where, in a bathing suit and bare feet, members could get a light lunch or something to drink. The other was elegant, quiet, and very formal. Ties and jackets were required for men, and no woman dared show up in slacks, no matter how dressy. It was in the latter room that the luncheon was being held.
The dining room was almost full when Rae and her neighbor arrived, and in every direction one cared to look there were people with the clean-cut, shiny look that wealthy Texans, even small-town Texans, always had.
Near the center of the room was L. D. Pryor— president of the town's largest bank—and his wife. Virg and Ruthie Embrey—Virg was an ex-linebacker who 'owned the town's only farm-equipment dealership—occupied a table near the podium. CeeCee Franklin sat at the table next to Virg and Ruthie. CeeCee's late grandfather made a fortune in the Kilgore oil fields, so the former whiled away her time spending the latter's money and collecting husbands. Today CeeCee was escorted by a young man who had the look of a Chippendale's dancer. Across the room, the minister of the First Baptist Church shared a table with an orthopedic surgeon and a prominent realtor. And, as Rae had expected, Drew was there with his glamorous houseguest.
After being seated at a table overlooking the terrace, Rae sipped iced tea and arranged her features in an expression of interest while her neighbor talked, quietly and unremittingly, about the joys and sorrows of backyard gardening.
Rae liked Edna, but after a sympathetic nod and a couple of "Oh dears", what else could be said in response to a treatise on the little white bugs that eat begonias? Using pumice on heel callus was begi
nning to look better and better.
Just when Rae reached the point of wondering what would happen if she fell asleep over the herb-and-tomato appetizer, Edna made a choking sound and went totally still, her stunned attention fixed on a point beyond Rae.
At almost the same moment Rae became aware of the low murmur of shock that was spreading rapidly across the room. Turning in her seat, she looked around the room, searching for the source. Her puzzled gaze slid past the entrance then returned in a neck-snapping double-take.
Tanner stood just inside the entrance, lazily surveying the dining room.
His strong, tanned features were composed, as though elegant little luncheons were his normal Saturday fare, but the laughing devil in his eyes was having a field day.
In honor of the occasion he wore a toast-brown jacket and a dress shirt the color of ripe wheat, not so different from others in the room. That, however, was where the resemblance ended. The required tie was draped around the open collar of his shirt, and the shirt was tucked neatly into faded skintight jeans.
A desperado with a sense of humor, she thought, letting her gaze linger on the worn, scuffed boots that completed his ensemble. Dicton's bad boy, bent on causing a stir. Carelessly, casually rebellious.
And sexy enough to make every woman in the room feel a little zing in her nether regions.
Edna, obviously feeling the zing, fidgeted in her seat. "Well, I never. That can't be Tanner West. Why is he here?" She reached across the table to tug urgently at Rae's sleeve. "You don't suppose he has his horse outside? Oh dear, what if he— You know, he doesn't quite look civilized, does he, even with—Did he cut his hair?"
"No," said Rae, her voice unsteady. "No, it looks like it's tied back with a little strip of leather."