by Jan Freed
She felt womanly and powerful and sexy, because this man thought she was. And that freed her inhibitions as nothing else could.
“I feel a lot of things, Joe. But I want to feel more.”
Sliding her palms down his T-shirt, she tugged the hem from his jeans, ducked her fingers underneath and found the naked skin of his back. They both drew in a sharp breath. She released hers in a wondering sigh.
She’d seen him bate-chested, known be was lean and perfectly proportioned. But, oh-h-h, to touch him. He was like sun-baked marble, hot and smooth and rippling with muscles, and so tall she had to stretch in order to reach his shoulders. The action flattened her breasts against his chest. He tensed, then pressed a string of feverish kisses over her neck, her jaw, her cheeks—everywhere but the lips that ached for his possession.
In retaliation, she withdrew her palms from his back and skated them up his stomach, intrigued by the silky prickle of hair that thickened the higher she went. She spread her fingers in delight and brushed two flat nipples in passing. His in-drawn hiss brought her hands wandering back to investigate.
She’d never indulged her curiosity during past romantic encounters. Shyness or awkwardness or indifference had always kept her from exploring. But with Joe she felt like a child given a fascinating new toy. She wanted to take him out of the box and examine all the pieces and play to her heart’s content. He bore her skimming hands with a control she didn’t question. This was Joe. He wouldn’t hurt her.
“Are you having fun?” he asked finally, his voice strange and thick.
She circled a pebbled disk with her fingernail and peeked up through her lashes. “Yes, I am, thank you. And you?”
The cords of his neck looked ready to snap. He made a gravelly sound in his chest and closed his eyes, his expression close to agony.
The she-devil within her wanted to test his limit, to push him over the edge. She inched her hand down his ridged abdomen and felt his muscles contract. Her boldness astonished and excited her. He seemed to be holding his breath, which excited her even more. The heel of her hand bumped over his belt buckle and reached its destination.
“Oh, my,” she murmured softly, his hard shape scorching her palm. She curled her fingers a teensy bit—
“Witch!”
His thighs crowded forward, his head swooped down. He slid his fingers into her hair and captured her lips, holding her hard against his mouth. The warm invasion of his tongue sent an electric sizzle streaking to her toes. She yielded to his domination with a sense of feminine awe.
It was a deep kiss, a man’s kiss, as branding in its own way as the mark he’d probably left on her neck. Weakness spread through her limbs. She clung to his shoulders and would have fallen if not for the tree bracing her spine.
He lowered his hands without breaking the kiss and worked open the buttons of her blouse. Parting the silk, he peeled back a lacy cup with one blunt fingertip, bent his head and washed her in wet heat.
Catherine moaned. Never in her life had she felt like this, drugged with passion, oblivious to everything but the mindless needs of her body. Arching her back, she gave herself up to the building storm of sensations and trusted Joe to keep her safe. To anchor her to the ground.
Suddenly the whirlwind stopped.
Dazed, she watched him tilt his head and grow still. A sweep of air chilled her breast and she struggled to remember where she was.
“Damn!” Grasping her waist, he swung her around to the opposite side of the tree as if she weighed no more than a child. “Allie’s home,” he explained, easing her down onto her feet. He tucked in his T-shirt with savage thrusts. “Button your shirt and I’ll head her off at the pass.”
With dawning horror, she heard the slam of a car door and an exuberant, “Thanks, Mrs. Bass!”
She looked up only to be driven back against the tree by Joe’s hard swift kiss.
He raised his head and stared urgently into her eyes. “Don’t analyze this to death, Catherine.”
Before she could answer, he was gone.
She shivered as if a blanket had been ripped from her cozy bed in wintertime. Awareness returned. She blinked down at her right breast, shocking and pale except for a few spots of redness. Whisker burns, she realized, jerking at the sound of Joe greeting his daughter in the driveway. She slipped up her bra cup and fumbled with her buttons.
If she and Joe hadn’t been interrupted…Her face grew hot with embarrassment at the realization she’d almost fulfilled her father’s predictions. Making love against a tree was in keeping with her mother’s legacy.
Allie chattered all the way up the garage-apartment stairs. She was preoccupied with her skating adventure, thank heavens, or she might have noticed the Jezebel huddled guiltily behind the tree.
Holding her breath until she heard the apartment door open and close, Catherine slunk to the bench, snatched up the empty glasses and wine bottle and managed to reach her kitchen door without anyone screaming, “Slut!”
Once inside, she collapsed in a chair and set her burden down. The four wine bottles sneered at her from the tabletop.
She glared back. “Okay already. So I won’t swallow my tastes from now on.”
An easy promise to keep. Much easier than the one she needed to make—which was never to repeat what had happened out there under the tree. Because no matter how wonderful Joe had made her reel, he’d also made his position clear. No commitments beyond his daughter. Certainly no wife. And Catherine wanted to be a wife and mother more than she wanted mind-blowing sex. She did, dammit.
Reaching for the fume blanc, she swigged a swallow straight from the bottle. Despite her best intentions she relived the glorious feeling of kissing Joe Tucker. She’d wondered for so long what it would be like, and now she knew. But, dear God, she wished she didn’t.
TWO DAYS LATER, Catherine glared at the fabulous kisser blocking her exit from his small kitchen and wanted to kick him into Oklahoma.
“Look, you stubborn man. I brought the overnight bag Allie needs. I drank the Coke you served me. Now move and let me go home.”
Joe gave her old shorts and T-shirt a once-over. “You probably should change into something nicer. I’d hate to see you make a bad impression on your mother.”
“Well, excuse me for offending your delicate sen-. sibilities, but I was cleaning the bathroom when you called. As for my seeing my mother—” she stepped forward and tilted back her head “—if you don’t stop badgering me about her, I’ll have to put a curse on you. I can do it. I’m a witch, you know.”
“I know.”
His gaze sharpened and she caught her breath, shaken by the realization he wasn’t nearly as indifferent to her as he’d pretended since their kiss. She retrieved the threads of her anger and stitched on.
“My mother and I have gotten along just fine for thirty years without seeing each other. You are not driving me to Columbus today. No way, forget it, nothing doing. Capital N capital O. NO!” She set her hands at her waist. “Now, is that plain enough, or should I continue?”
Joe shouldered past her and opened the refrigerator door. The instant he pulled out a plastic container, Romeo and Juliet came running.
Catherine ignored her chance to escape. “Well?” she said loudly over the discordant meows.
Popping open the lid, Joe tilted the container in front of Catherine’s nose. “Fish stick for the road? Riding on an empty stomach can make you carsick, you know.”
She bit her lip, looked at his boots and shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
“No, it’s true. I blew beets all over the back seat when Dad wouldn’t stop for a burger on the way to-”
“Can I give you a little advice, Joe? Next time you clean your ears with a Q-Tip—” she reached out and patted his arm “—stop pushing when you meet resistance.”
The milling cats blocked her grand exit, or she might not have heard Joe’s low chuckle. Some of her irritation faded.
Romeo leapt onto the counter and swiped
an impatient paw as far as he could reach.
Juliet plopped down and rolled to her back.
Catherine watched Joe look from the dainty black feline sprawled in adoring supplication on his boots to the huge belligerent tabby demanding a fish stick now.
“No contest,” Joe told the tomcat, then bent to feed Juliet her treat first.
“Can I have one?” Allie yelled from the sofa.
Catherine moved into the main room. Softball camp had a two-day break between sessions, and the excited girl sat packed and ready for her trip to the beach.
“Didn’t you have breakfast?” Catherine asked. “It’s an hour’s drive to Galveston, and the Basses may not stop for lunch right when you get there.”
“late.”
“Good. So what’d you have?”
Allie shrugged. “Oreos and a Coke.”
Catherine turned around and arched a brow at the girl’s eavesdropping father.
Joe ducked back into the kitchen.
Chicken. Stifling a smile, Catherine walked to the sofa and sat knee to knee with Allie for a private conversation.
“You know, grabbing whatever’s handy to eat is okay every once in a while, but those four basic food groups your teachers talked about in grade school really are important.”
Allie rolled her eyes.
“No, I mean it. Growing bodies need plenty of milk, fruits and vegetables. They didn’t make you learn that stuff to bore you—that’s what memorizing the state capitals was for.”
A grudging smile pulled at the girl’s lips.
“I know it’s hard, honey, especially when you don’t have your Gram to grocery shop and cook for you and Joe anymore. But hey, if you’re this pretty, this smart and this good an athlete right now, just think what a balanced diet will do for you. Tommy will have to beat the other guys off with your Softball bat.”
Allie perked up. She’d confided in Catherine the day before about events leading up to Tommy’s undivided attention.
“Do you really think he’ll call me?”
“Honey, I think he’ll be camped out waiting on your doorstep when you get home.”
“Cool.”
Allie’s engaging grin produced a curious mixture of happiness and pain in Catherine. With her father flying from England in four days, her tenants would be returning soon to their own apartment. She studied the girl’s heart-shaped face and realized how much she would miss seeing it daily.
“Your hair has really grown since you’ve been here,” Catherine observed, brushing the girl’s bangs aside and holding them in place. “Time for a trim. It’s a pity to hide these beautiful eyes.”
The eyes under discussion filled with heart-wrenching neediness, an emotion Catherine understood all too well.
Releasing the silky strands, she rubbed the backs of her fingers against the girl’s cheek before lowering her hand. “I don’t mean to sound preachy, but it’s just that…well, I love you, Allie. If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be exactly like you. You’ve done a fine job of taking care of your father. But you need to take good care of yourself, too. Will you promise to do that?”
With every word Allie’s eyes had grown brighter. Now they welled with tears. “You’ll come see me after I leave, won’t you?”
Catherine silently vowed to give this remarkable girl her love and support for as long as needed. “Nothing could keep me away.” She dabbed her own eyes with the corner of her T-shirt, laughed self-consciously and patted Allie’s knee. “You’ll have fun in Galveston. Got your bathing suit?”
“Yep.”
“Sunscreen?”
“Holly’s mom said they have plenty.”
“Don’t forget to use it. Got your pajamas and two changes of clothes?”
“Yep.”
“Toothbrush?”
Allie opened and closed her mouth. “Be right back,” she said, jumping up and running toward the bathroom.
No longer able to ignore the prickling sense of being watched, Catherine turned.
Joe stood just outside the kitchen, his muscular arms folded, his long legs braced apart—his virility a beacon both drawing her to and warning her away from dangerous waters.
She met his dark possessive eyes and for one breathless instant was pressed against a tree, her mouth being taken as thoroughly as her body ached to be filled.
Allie jogged back to the sofa, snapping the sexual tension between the adults. “Good thing I went in there. I forgot my hairbrush, too.” She knelt on the floor and zipped the items safely into her borrowed luggage. Her ingenuous gaze moved from Catherine to her father and back.
“So are you gonna let Joe take you to Columbus?”
Romeo leapt up beside beside Catherine and butted his nose under her hand. “If you heard us talking, you must have heard me say no.”
“I think you should go see your mom. You know, talk a little or something.”
Romeo gave a distressed growl. Catherine unclenched her hand from his fur and shot Joe a black look. His guilty shrug didn’t excuse him for provoking her into airing her dirty laundry earlier.
“So you’ll go?” Allie persisted.
“You don’t understand, honey. It’s not that simple.”
“I understand that grown-ups make things too complicated.”
“Allie…” Joe warned.
The girl cast him a “what’d I do?” look, then turned back to Catherine. “Aren’t you curious about her? Don’t you have a million questions you wanna ask?” She buried her nose in Romeo’s fur, then looked up with a perplexed expression. “I’d give anything to have a mother, but you don’t want the one you have. It’s not like she abused you, or anything, ‘cause you haven’t even seen her in thirty years. So how come you don’t-want your mother, Catherine?”
Catherine’s stomach churned. For one of the few times in her memory, she didn’t know what to say.
BEHIND THE COUNTER at Columbus Truck Stop, Mary Lou set a bowl in front of Nate and smiled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve been looking forward to this for a while. How many weeks have you been dieting?”
Her friend held up a palm and spooned in a mouthful of peach cobbler. Eyelids drifting shut, he moaned deep in his throat and shuddered before opening his eyes and fixing a dreamy gaze on his favorite dessert.
“Good grief, Nate, this is a G-rated restaurant. Show a little restraint, or I’ll have to take that away from you.”
He curled protective forearms around the bowl. “Touch this and you’re a dead woman.”
She laughed, something she seemed to do a lot these days. “Quit growling and enjoy. You deserve it after getting into those tuxedo pants.”
Checking the other customers to make sure Irene had things under control, Mary Lou propped companionable elbows on the counter as be continued eating. “You looked pretty spiffy walking down the aisle with Cindy on your arm. And she looked beautiful.”
Pride softened Nate’s bulldog features. “She did, didn’t she? Hey, that reminds me. The photographer got some great shots of you and John at the reception. Think you might want some copies made?”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Maybe. Could I look at the proofs first?”
“Sure thing, honey.” His hazel eyes twinkled affectionately. “I’m real glad to see you so happy. It’s about damn time you let a man into your life again. Now if you’ll just let him into your bed, I’ll quit worry in’ about you altogether.”
Had any other man told her that, she would have frozen him with an icy glare. But Nate had watched her perfect that glare as a young waitress recovering from heartbreak. He truly cared about her welfare.
“How do you know I haven’t pulled back the covers already, Nate Dawson?”
Pushing up from the counter, she headed for the coffeepot, her ears trained behind her for his response. Silence, then a booming laugh. She grinned in satisfaction. Although she hadn’t taken that crucial step with John yet, it was fun to go one up on an incorrigible tease like
Nate.
She bustled back to work, her thoughts filled with John. Her first public appearance as his date last week had been blissful. His unpretentious manner and enthusiastic polka at the reception had charmed the working-class wedding guests. She could almost believe their relationship had a chance. Of course, the real test would be attending, as a couple, one of his social events.
As if her thoughts had conjured him up, the front door jangled open and John walked in. Happiness hummed through her body. He saw her immediately, his handsome face alive with pleasure as he strode to the counter and slid onto a stool.
Without having to ask, she shoveled ice into a glass—halfway to the rim and no more—then drew a Diet Coke from the dispenser. He reached for it, grinning that damned grin, the one that said he knew her carefully controlled expression was a lie and he could prove it anytime he wanted.
The front door opened again. A man and woman entered with the look of people searching for the washrooms. She gave Samuel, the cashier, a nod to steer them the right way.
“So Grace must still be running a fever,” John said, recapturing her attention.
“If she is, I’m not sure it’s from a virus. I think her new boyfriend has a few days off. She used up all her vacation time last month.”
“I wish you would take a vacation. Your boss wouldn’t begrudge you a little R and R. In fact, he could use some himself.” His dark brown gaze intensified.
Flustered by the underlying sexual current, she nodded toward a trucker who’d finished his meal. “Let me take care of Larry and I’ll be right back.”
She was giving the burly trucker his tab when she noticed the strangers a second time. They hadn’t wanted the washrooms after all, but were standing at the Please Wait to be Seated sign.
She turned to Irene and called, “Customers in front.”
The waitress glanced toward the sign and nodded at her boss.
Mary Lou thanked Larry for his business and watched him lumber past the striking pair. She studied them from under her lashes while clearing dishes.