by Peggy Webb
“I'm not finished yet, Mrs. O'Grady. Not by a long shot.”
He swept her into his arms, bent her over backward in the manner of Rudolph Valentino seducing a silent screen star, and kissed her savagely. There was no tenderness, no love, no sweetness in the kiss. It was wild, fierce revenge.
“Show me how much you mean that no.” His mouth ground into hers again, and he held her so tightly, she could barely breathe. “Show me.”
She was seduced by him all over again. It didn't seem to matter whether he was fierce and wild, sweet and tender, or mocking and funny, she wanted Rick McGill. His hips plunged against hers in a frantic imitation of love, and she responded with a wantonness that belied her words.
Heaven help her, she thought, for she couldn't seem to help herself.
When he finally released her, she was puffy-lipped and weak-kneed. It was a terrible state for Mrs. Lucky O'Grady to be in. After they found Lucky, she'd have to tell Rick the truth. Otherwise her sister's reputation would be in ruins.
“Let's go,” she said. She was glad to have the excuse to get down on her hands and knees and crawl for she didn't think her legs would hold her up much longer. She gulped big mouthfuls of air as she slowly negotiated her way through the narrow opening.
Behind her, Rick patted her bottom. “Take your time, sweetheart. The view back here is great.”
She made a choked sound that passed for protest. At the moment, she was beyond caring whether he understood or not.
o0o
They rode back to the hotel in total, icy silence. They didn't even comment on the magnificent sunset. What did it matter that the mountains around the city were putting on a display of royal colors worthy of a king? Neither of them cared. All that mattered was the rift between them. The camaraderie of the last three days was hopelessly lost. So was the exhilarating give-and-take of their cat-and-mouse courtship.
Rick was bound and determined not to give an inch, and so was she. By the time they had parked at the hotel and reached the elevators, they were both so stiff-lipped and rigid, they looked like two robots.
When the elevator deposited them on their floor, they still didn't speak. Halfway down the hall a large woman with frizzy brown hair rose from her spot in front of Martha Ann's door. She was holding the hand of a blushing, giggling skinny girl who looked about sixteen but who had the kind of face that could belong to a woman of any age.
“Excuse me,” the woman said.
Martha Ann was so wrapped up in her own problems that she jumped.
“I didn't mean to scare you.” The woman put out her hand and briefly touched Martha Ann's arm.
Rick was immediately on the alert. He gave the woman a look that caused her to release Martha Ann's arm and step back.
“I don't mean no harm. Honest.” She spread her hands wide. “I'm just a maid here at the hotel, see, and I wanted to talk to you. It's about Lurlene here.” She put her hand in the small of the girl's back and pushed her forward.
“If you need help, I'm sure there are services in the city for that. I can do some phoning for you,” Rick said.
The woman laughed. “It ain't phoning I want. It's another one of them little mesh bags.”
“What little mesh bags?” Rick gave Martha Ann a quizzical look.
The woman appealed to Martha Ann. “You was the one that throwed it out, wadn't you?”
“Are you talking about the bag I put in the wastebasket a few days ago?”
“Yep. That's the one.” She heaved herself up straight, sucked in her breath, and patted her hair. “I knew what it was the minute I saw it. Had a friend once—her name was Sara Light Foot. She used to make them things all the time, You oughta seen the miracles she done. Why, them little bags could turn a icicle into a bonfire.”
“What was in the bag?” Rick asked.
The woman burst out laughing. “Oh, lordy, mister. It wadn't what was in 'em that was important; it's what they done. Why, I took that bag home and hung it over my bed, and my old man hasn't let me git a minute's rest since.” She chuckled again. “A love potion. That's what it was.”
“Love potion?” Rick and Martha Ann spoke at the same time and turned to look at each other.
“One of the Running Bears put it in the bag Velma packed for me,” Martha Ann explained to Rick. “I found it the day we checked in.”
“You mean that smelly little thing was a love potion? I guess that explains things, huh?” Rick gave her a wry grin.
“It had to be the love potion, because it certainly wasn't due to any feelings on my part.” She spoke out of anger, for she was still stung by his refusal to admit any feelings for her except lust.
“Nor on mine.”
They could probably have stared at each other indefinitely if the woman hadn't interrupted them.
“You never did say if you had any more of them things. You see, Lurlene here is gettin' married, and that Wayne is kinda shy and backward in some things. They need a love potion mighty bad.”
“I'm sorry. There are no more love potions.” Martha Ann was still gazing at Rick as she spoke.
“I'm sorry, too.” His voice had softened.
It sounded almost as if he were making an apology to Martha Ann. Naturally she decided she was foolish to think such a thing. That's what happened to women in love; they lost their common sense.
She shook her head and forced herself to look away from Rick. “Perhaps your friend Sara Light Foot could make one for you.”
“Lordy, I'd a gone to her in the first place, if she was still around here. She lit out three years ago with one of them electric evangelists.”
“Electric evangelist?” Martha Ann stifled her giggle.
“You know, one of them TV preachers.” She smoothed her wrinkled dress over her ample hips and took Lurlene's arm. “Well, honey, we might as well be gettin' on. I guess I can let you borrow the potion—but just for a few days.” She laughed self-consciously. “Lordy, lordy, I wouldn't want to do without it for no longer than that.”
Tugging Lurlene along, she started down the hallway, then turned back for one last word. “You two musta been through with it, or you wouldn't never have throwed it out.”
“We were finished with it,” Martha Ann said.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Rick's quick agreement stung Martha Ann. She turned her back to him and fitted her key in the lock.
“Martha Ann...”
She whirled around, a half-smile of expectation on her face. “What?”
“I'm going out to look for your husband. Alone. I'm ready to find him and get out of this place.”
“That suits me perfectly. The sooner we leave here the better.”
She shoved open her door and waited a second for him to say something, anything to breach the terrible rift between them. He didn't, and she slammed the door with a satisfying, wall-rattling bang.
Rick spun around and strode down the hall. He had never met such an all-fired, stubborn woman in his life. He decided it was a good thing he hadn't made a fool of himself in the cave and made some stupid declaration of undying affection. Shoot, he was lucky he hadn't seen that great neon sign in the sky. Love. Who needed it?
He punched the elevator button viciously. Somewhere out there was Lucky O'Grady, and Rick was going to find him if he had to call in the police, the National Guard, and the FBI. He needed to get away from Las Vegas and back home where he could find a sweet, willing playmate to take his mind off the conniving Martha Ann Riley.
A sudden vision of that beauty spot beside her lips came to him. By Gorge, she was going to be a hard woman to get off his mind.
o0o
At six o'clock the next morning Rick returned to the hotel with Lucky O'Grady in tow. The sheepish-looking captive was rumpled, bleary-eyed, and penitent.
“Hey, man, I didn't mean to put anybody to all this trouble,” Lucky was saying as he and Rick stepped off the elevator. “Evelyn knows I have to have a little space every now and then. It's
not like her to send somebody after me.”
Rick was in no mood to be nice. “Maybe she had her reasons.”
“I wonder what they could be.”
“You left a pregnant wife to run off and gamble, and you don't know what her reasons are for trying to find you? Don't give me that innocent good-old-boy routine. You're too intelligent for that.”
Lucky pushed a shaky hand through his tousled dark hair. “Hell, yeah. I know it. I just keep making excuses for myself.”
“Don't you think it's about time you quit making excuses and started accepting your responsibilities?”
Who was he to talk? A man who wanted to play around till he was fifty? He ignored his smart-mouthed conscience. He'd been up all night; he figured he deserved to let off steam by lecturing Lucky O'Grady.
“You don't know how many times I've asked myself that same question. I keep promising my wife I'm going to do better. Lord knows, she deserves better. I swear, this time I'm going to change.”
“Don't swear it to me. Tell her.”
“She's here?”
“Right behind that door.”
Rick figured the devil made him say that. Or perhaps it was revenge. In any case, posing as Lucky's wife had been Martha Ann's idea. He'd let her handle it.
He rapped on her door.
“Who is it?” Her voice sounded sleepy. Good. He was glad he'd awakened her. He hadn't slept a wink and might never get another good night's sleep as long as he lived. Why should she?
“Open up, sweetheart. I've found your husband.”
“Lucky?” Her voice sounded perkier now, though it was somewhat muffled and he couldn't be sure. There was a long silence and then she flung open the door. By George, that woman looked delicious in her morning dishabille.
Rick reached out and patted her cheek. He couldn't seem to resist touching her.
“It's all over, sweetheart. I'm delivering your lover straight to your arms.”
Having said all that, he stepped back and revealed Lucky O'Grady.
Lucky's mouth fell open. “Martha Ann?”
She pulled him into the room, flung her arms around him, and whispered, “Don't you dare mess this up.” Then she leaned back and assumed a wifely look of concern. “Darling, where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you.”
“Well, you can stop looking now. I'm here.” He pushed her aside and headed toward the bed. “I'm tired as a dog. Do you mind if I take a nap?”
Without further ado, he stretched out on the bed and shut his eyes.
Rick was leaning against the doorjamb, watching the entire scene. He didn't know whether to be amused or mad. It's over now, he wanted to shout. Tell me the truth, Martha Ann.
But she didn't. She continued her charade.
“Thank you so much for finding my husband. As soon as I get back home, I'll pay you.” She gazed toward the bed with feigned affection. “Poor baby, he's all tuckered out.”
Lucky was already snoring.
“I always expect immediate payment.” Rick stepped into the room and quietly shut the door. Lucky kept snoring.
“As you well know, I lost everything in the crash.”
“Not everything.”
Seeing the gleam in Rick's eyes, Martha Ann backed behind a chair. He stalked her.
“Do you think a little thing like that chair is going to stop me?” He lifted it and set it aside.
“You forget yourself. My husband is on the bed.”
Rick caught her shoulders and tipped her chin up with one finger.
“If I were your husband, sweetheart, you'd be on that bed with me.”
“Let me go, you...”
“What, my pet? Scoundrel? Blackguard? Rake? Come on, my sweet. Don't stop now.” His hand tightened on her chin. “You've called me everything but liar. Is that the word you're looking for?”
He wanted the truth from her. Standing there with his hands on her face, he suddenly realized how much he wanted to hear her tell the truth. Don't you have any trust in me? he wanted to shout.
“Is it, sweetheart?” His voice was soft and silky in a deadly sort of way.
“No.” Her shoulders sagged. “You're all those things I called you, but as far as I know, you've never lied to me.”
He felt a twinge of conscience. If playing a role qualified as lying, he was guilty. His face softened.
“About that payment, sweetheart...” He pulled her swiftly into his arms and crushed her protest with his mouth. The kiss was hungry, savage, punishing. He didn't know what he sought to prove, or even if he was trying to prove anything. All he knew was that he had to have her one more time. He had to feel those luscious lips under his.
Hers parted, and she kissed him back with careless abandon. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him fiercely to her.
Afterward she might never see him again, she thought. Fate was saving her from another mistake, but that didn't make her feel a darned bit better. Unshed tears stung her eyes. But she'd be darned if she'd cry for Rick McGill. After all, playmates weren't supposed to cry.
His mouth left hers and roamed down the side of her throat. “All that fire, my pet...” He undid the two top buttons on her blouse and bent his head over her breasts. “No bra. I approve.”
The loud snoring from the bed seemed to mock her. She knew she was playing with fire, but she was beyond caring.
Rick dragged her hips tightly against his. She sucked in her breath. There was no doubt what was motivating him. Desire. Pure and simple. But that didn’t stop her from going up in flames.
“Oh, nooo,” she said.
“Oh, yes, my pet. Oh, yes.” He lifted his head and took her lips again.
Love had turned her into a crazy woman, she decided. Her brother-in-law was sleeping on the bed, and she didn't care if Rick lowered her to the carpet then and there and made love.
When she thought she was going to pull him down to the floor herself, he lifted his head. Not far. Just a fraction of an inch from her lips.
“Does your husband know that he got cheated?”
“Cheated?” With her blood boiling in her veins and her carrying on like some demented fool, she hardly knew what she was saying.
“You greeted him more like a sister than a torrid, hungry wife.” He gripped her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Does he know you save all your kisses for me?”
She tried to jerk away, but he held her firm.
“You've had your so-called payment. What more do you want?”
The truth. But he had too much pride to say so. If she ever told him the truth, she had to do it voluntarily. He waited a while longer, begging her, compelling her with his eyes to confide in him. When it became clear to him that she wasn't going to say anything, he let her go.
Stepping back, he ran his hand over his stubbly chin. “A little amusement, sweetheart. That's all I want.”
“That's what I thought.” She cupped her face with her hands. Her lips felt swollen, and her chin stung. Beard burn. Rick McGill was determined to leave his mark on her, one way or the other.
“You've been very entertaining, Mrs. O'Grady. Perhaps next time we'll have the ultimate fun.”
“There won't be a next time.*'
“There'll always be a next time for us, sweetheart.”
“So you've said.”
“And so you've proven.” He turned and strode across the room. When he reached the door, he turned back around. “Your tickets home will be at the front desk.” He glanced toward the sleeping man. “When your husband wakes up, tell him what he missed.”
He went through the door and closed it silently behind him.
Martha Ann put her face in her hands and cried.
Chapter Nine
“Oh, Lucky. My poor darling. Did you have a hard trip?”
“Well, honey, it wasn't so hard, but it just wasn't fast enough. I couldn't wait to get back home to my babies.”
Martha Ann and Lucky and Evelyn were standing in t
he middle of the Tupelo Airport making a scene, which was par for the course for the Riley girls, Martha Ann thought. Evelyn had tears running down her cheeks, her mascara was streaked, and she was shouting. She always shouted when she was happy.
As for Lucky, he looked like death eating crackers, but he was patting Evelyn's stomach and grinning like a kid who had just gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar.
“If I could interrupt this domestic bliss long enough to say something—” Martha Ann was cut off by Evelyn.
“My poor baby.” Evelyn cupped Lucky's face. “You shouldn't go off like that. I worry about you.”
“You worry about him!”
Martha Ann was shouting, too, but she didn't care. The trip had been rough, and the times she hadn't been praying, she had been crying. She had lost her clothes, her money, her sense, and her heart, to boot, and all they could do was pet each other.
“If somebody will tell me where the damned car is, I'll give him something to worry about.”
“Why Martha Ann.” Evelyn gave her a reproachful look. “You're cursing.”
“Damned right. And hollering too.”
Evelyn linked arms with her sister. “Poor baby. I know it's been rough for you, too—Lucky, take her other arm. Let's get her to the car so she can put her head back and rest.... Quick. I think she's going to hyperventilate. She's scared to death of flying, poor thing.”
It wasn't flying that had her so upset. It was Rick McGill. But she didn't tell Evelyn that. Her sister had enough to worry about without adding Martha Ann’s failed romance to her list of woes.
As soon as they were in the car, Martha Ann had her say.
“Lucky O'Grady, if you ever go off like that again, I’ll personally strip you buck naked and tan your selfish hide.”
“Why, Martha Ann. I'm shocked at you.” Evelyn patted her husband's cheek. “Keep your eyes on the road, baby. I'm sure she didn't mean that.”
“You bet your sweet patooties, I did.” Martha Ann leaned over the front seat and tapped Lucky's shoulder for emphasis. “You're a smart man, maybe even a brilliant one. Don't you think it's time you started using that brain to think up ways to be a good husband to my sister and a good father to my nephew?”