by Stacey Kayne
Glancing at the shriveled pads of her fingers she was reminded that too much of a good thing could be hazardous, and good didn't begin to describe the warm bursts of sensation that consumed her when she was in Tucker's arms. I'm far too inexperienced to handle his sort of fire. She had no defenses against the tender flames of his caresses, flames that consumed her as gently as the bathwater surrounding her now. But the response he ignited within her was anything but gentle. She'd all but attacked him the other night.
Skylar bit her lower lip, recalling the salty taste of his skin. A shudder swept through her. The sheer violence of her desire startled her.
She stood, breaking away from the memory as she reached for the drying sheet hanging from the tall changing screen the tub had been placed behind.
A few minutes later she stood beside the bed, dressed in her clean undergarments. Her stomach grumbled as she turned back the bedcovers. Once she was between those inviting white sheets she'd fall right to sleep, despite her hunger. As she reached toward the lamp to put it out, a knock sounded at the door. She groaned, hearing Tucker's voice call her name.
"Go away, Tucker."
"I can't. I've brought your supper. Open the door, Sky."
"I'm not hungry! Go find some other woman to pester."
Skylar jumped as the door banged open. How had she managed to forget to lock it?
He stepped into the room, saying, "I don't want to pester any woman but you."
"Tucker!" she shrieked, stunned by his intrusion.
Holding a large tray piled with covered bowls, plates and glasses, he kicked the door closed behind him.
"You can't just barge in here!" She reached into the saddlebag beside the bed and pulled out her clean waist and quickly shrugged it on.
"You should have locked the latch, but I guess I could have asked if you were dressed." He flashed a smile, and she reached back into her bag and pulled out the skirt. "You sure smell sweet."
"Cut it out. I didn't invite you in."
"Yeah, well, this tray was gettin' heavy, and you'll never convince me that you're not hungry." He walked to the far side of the room and set the tray on the chest of drawers near the small table with two chairs in the corner. He tossed a brown-paper package onto the bed then turned back to the tray of food. Lifting a folded white cloth from the tray, he flapped it high in the air then let it float down onto the small round table.
Skylar stood near the foot of the bed in stunned silence as Tucker began dealing plates and silverware with the card-dealing deftness of a professional gambler.
"You might want to pull that skirt on, honey," he said, keeping his focus on the silverware he was arranging, "unless you plan to come to the table in your underclothes." He flickered a glance in her direction. His green eyes shone with approval. "Either way is fine with me."
Releasing a huff of frustration, Skylar stepped into her skirt. She paused as a mouthwatering scent flooded the air, curling around her nostrils. Glancing at the table, she saw that Tucker had uncovered a dish filled with pieces of steaming fried chicken. Her stomach complained loudly as she watched him load a heap of long, slender green beans onto a white porcelain plate.
"What was that, darlin'?" Amusement laced with his voice. "Something about not being hungry?"
"Oh, do shut up."
Tucker laughed as she tied her waistband. Glancing back at the table she wasn't pleased to find two plates sitting on the nicely laid table.
Oh Lord.
Tucker took a slender vase filled with wildflowers from the tray. He set the colorful arrangement in the center of the small table. Then he plopped down on one of the chairs and smiled up at her, appearing quite proud of himself.
Skylar's heart swelled against the walls of her chest. His handsome face was freshly shaven. Blond hair floated across his scalp in thick golden waves, curling up at his collar and around his ears. She'd even detected the faint scent of cologne when he had walked past her.
She glanced warily toward the door she had hoped he'd be walking out of at any moment. "Tuck?"
"Come on, Sky. It won't kill you to have dinner with me. Let me make up for some of your disappointment. I truly am sorry your judge wasn't in town. We can still get the annulment in Wyoming."
Was that supposed to cheer her up?
He stood and walked around the table. He pulled out the other chair. "I promise to behave myself," he said with a slanted grin, then made a sweeping motion with his hand, inviting her to sit.
Feeling very much like a lamb walking into a lion's den, Skylar reluctantly walked the short distance to the table and sat in the chair.
"Aw, hell," he said as he pushed her chair in, preventing her escape. "I forgot the candle."
Skylar glanced up at Tucker's frowning expression and laughed. He amazed her. How could he think this table, filled with decorative plates, sparkling glasses and silver, and a floral centerpiece bursting with nearly every color of a rainbow could be lacking anything? A candle wouldn't have made a flip of difference. She'd never seen a more beautifully set table. In fact, she'd never seen a complete set of matching china and silverware.
"You keep smiling, and we'll have all the warm glow we need," he said, his rich tone sending shivers down her spine.
'Tucker," she said in warning as he walked around the table.
He smiled and claimed his seat. He grabbed a white linen napkin from beside his plate, shook it out and draped it across his thigh.
Skylar followed his lead, collecting her napkin and draping it across her lap. The bright light from the lamp beside the bed twinkled on the silverware spread out on either side of her plate, more silverware than she knew what to do with. Thank heavens she hadn't let him talk her into eating in a restaurant.
"Relax, honey," Tucker said as he reached toward her glass with a clear decanter of tea. "You sure do look beautiful in that dress."
He wasn't helping her relax by making such comments, and she was well aware that her clothes were a wrinkled mess from being jammed in her saddlebags.
"Not that you don't look real nice in your denims," he quickly added.
The rich timbre of his voice and the look in his eyes sent tiny tendrils of sensation spiraling up from the pit of her stomach. "Tucker, you promised to behave."
"Skylar, that was a civilized compliment."
'There's nothing civilized about that velvet voice of yours."
He laughed out loud. "Am I really so transparent?" His gaze moved slowly from her face, down to her neck.
She was all too aware of the rapid beat of her pulse.
His smile broadened. "I can't help the effect you have on me, sweetheart, any more than you can help your attraction to me."
"Have you always been so arrogant?"
"I'm just being truthful, honey. Are you gonna just sit there and drive me wild or are you going to eat?"
Skylar picked up her fork, stabbed at her green beans and shoved them into her mouth, thinking the sooner they were finished with the meal, the sooner he would leave—a strategy forgotten the moment her mouth closed around her fork.
Coated in the savory flavor of butter, her taste buds sprang to life. She nearly groaned in delight as she chewed, tantalizing her pallet with a combination of lightly seared green beans, onions, butter and salt. Butter. She couldn't even recall the last time the creamy substance had passed her lips.
"Good, isn't it? Marie is a damn fine cook. Almost as good as you. Her restaurant is a few doors down the boardwalk."
"And she let you bring all this to the hotel?"
Tucker flashed one of his fallen-angel smiles. "It took a bit a sweet talking."
"Which happens to be your God-given talent."
Tucker's expression soured. "It is not."
"It is, too," she countered, amused that he'd find her
comment offensive. "Don't act as if you don't know the beguiling effect your smiles have on women."
His eyes widened with blatant surprise. "For your information, M
arie happens to be a sweet woman in her fifties and happily married for the better part of thirty years."
"Then it would seem your charms have no boundaries."
"I didn't charm her," Tucker said with a scowl. "I just asked politely."
"Uh-huh." Skylar grinned and took another bite, enjoying the hint of red in Tucker's cheekbones as he dropped his gaze to his plate and shoved a forkload of chicken into his mouth.
"I've never seen such beautiful dishes," Skylar said at length, her eyes tracing the rim of her dinner plate and a smaller plate holding slices of bread. A thin stripe of light blue outlined the shiny white rim, with dots of silver beading running along the inside of the blue circle. A matching serving bowl of the same elegant design sat on the table. "Is it just me, or do these plates make the food even more appetizing?"
"You're just hungry," Tucker said in a dull tone. "Dishes are dishes. They all serve the same purpose."
Skylar didn't agree. There was a world of difference between battered tin and fine china, between serving bowls and a matching place setting and an iron skillet and tin plate. Eating beside a campfire opposed to dining at a table covered by white linen. To Skylar, it was the difference between drifting and having a home.
"I take it back," said Tucker. "After watching your eyes, I can see I was wrong. Don't look so downhearted, honey. Pretty dishes aren't so unattainable."
"For you, maybe." She knew just how hard it was to obtain such simple luxuries. She'd spent her whole life working for such simplicity, yet it seemed to slip further from her grasp with every passing day.
Watching Skylar, Tucker had the unnerving suspicion that the sadness in her eyes was derived from more than her fancy for decorative dinnerware. He saw an ache in her soft expression that pained him clear to the bone. He'd never been so affected by anyone else's pain, aside from his brother's. It tore him up to see Skylar so miserable.
"I suppose you miss sitting down at a dinner table at mealtime, huh?"
"It's more than that," she said, anger firming her features. She stabbed her fork at the chicken on her plate and peeled off a chunk of white meat. "I want my own table, in my own home, with my own dishes. I've worked hard to have all those things. For years, I turned over every dollar I earned to my father, trusting him to follow through on his promise to provide them."
"Perhaps he had intended to buy a place in Wyoming."
Her eyes burned with anger and frustration as she met his gaze. "Then why did he sign a contract with you for employment?"
She believed them. Tucker was taken back by the admission. If she believed them, why was she holding on to their deed?
He'd thought quite a bit about Zach Daines during the past weeks. Chance had told him he had a hard time believing Daines would intentionally deceive Skylar. Perhaps Daines had intended on providing her with a home. The man had to know how badly his daughter desired to have one.
"You don't have to own your own ranch to make a good living and buy yourself a patch of land for a house," he pointed out.
"I suppose," she said, her sullen expression unwavered.
"What about your Arabian studs? A man doesn't buy horses like that just to prance them around the desert. It wouldn't surprise me if they cost your father nearly as much as I paid for my land."
"You think so?" she asked, her eyes widening with surprise.
"I know so. That black Arabian is a real prize, and the chestnut is just as impressive. Any breeder would sell his own teeth to pen them up with a couple of his mares. I know I would. I'm sure your father was aware of that. I wouldn't mind finding out how he came across them."
"I'm not really sure," Skylar said as she spread a thick layer of butter onto a slice of bread. "He rode out one evening and came back a week later with the stallions." She took a bite of her bread and shrugged. "He was never big on conversation."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Tucker said, while trying to hide yet another flash of anger he felt toward a dead man. What the hell was Daines doing leaving her alone for a week! "Getting more than a few sentences out of you at a time isn't exactly an easy task," he said.
Skylar smiled before lowering her gaze to her plate.
He liked that reaction. "So, tell me about those mustangs of yours, angel."
They fell into easy conversation as he asked various questions about the mustanging she'd done in Arizona and New Mexico, characteristics of the different bands they'd followed, and the range of clients she'd dealt with, from cattle ranchers to cavalry officers.
Skylar was shocked when she glanced down and her plate was empty. The bowls on the chest of drawers were just as bare, and they'd polished off the decanter of tea. They must have been eating and talking for well over an hour, yet the time had passed so quickly.
Tucker stood and began collecting their dishes, stacking them back on the tray. "I should head out of here and let you get some sleep. I told Marie I'd have her stuff back before she closed, and I sure don't want to get stuck doing these dishes. Not that there's much to clean. We did everything short of licking our plates."
Skylar laughed as Tucker snatched up her shining plate, which she'd scoured clean with the crust of her bread. "Everything was delicious," she said, rising from her chair. "Thank you for the meal."
"My pleasure." He lifted the vase of flowers, tugged the linen off the table then replaced the vase. Tossing the tablecloth over the dirty dishes, he picked up the large tray with one hand and started toward the door.
Skylar stepped in front of him, opened the door and moved back so he could pass through.
"Lock the latch when I leave," Tucker said as he walked past her.
"Yes, Father," she said with a grin, amused and flattered by his protectiveness.
"I'm not your father, Skylar." He reached back with his free hand and cupped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. The deep green of his eyes sparked a swirl of sensation in the pit of Skylar's belly. She didn't resist when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She met his kiss, feeling a rush of anticipation. But the brief caress ended too soon.
"Good night," he whispered.
Primed for a thoroughly intoxicating kiss, disappointment resounded through her as he dropped his hand away from her face and stepped back into the hall. "Sweet dreams, angel girl," he said, then quickly slapped the door shut.
Skylar stared at the back of the door, her lips tingling from his light kiss, her body wound with the odd tension caused by his touch.
Of all the rotten times for him to keep his word!
Chapter 19
Churning with restlessness, Skylar walked toward the bed and flopped onto the mattress, shifting the brown-paper package still sitting where Tucker had dropped it when he'd entered the room. Lying on her back, her eyes narrowed as she focused on the thin bundle. She hooked her finger around the twine tied over each end and dragged the light package onto her lap as she sat up.
Had Tucker meant to give it to her?
She found the seam in the brown wrapping and peeled the edge back, revealing something made of white cotton. Another shirt, she thought. About to toss it aside, she spied a speck of pink thread. She peeled the paper farther back. Her breath caught as she revealed a long white sleeve, and a row of tiny pink and yellow flowers embroidered into the cuff. Tugging twine and ripping the paper, she pulled a long nightgown free of the packaging.
"Tucker," she sighed, tears burning at her eyes as her gaze moved over the prettiest nightgown she'd ever seen.
What was he trying to do to her?
More flowers were stitched along the collar and in between the tiny white buttons running from the high neck to the waistline. It was beautiful. Within seconds she stripped off her clothing and pulled on the soft white gown. The thin garment did little to put her in the mood for sleep. Wide-awake, she paced the room, the long gown brushing the top of her bare feet with each step. She paused, hearing the door across the hall open then close.
Why had he purchased a gow
n for her? She couldn't stop the question from repeating in her mind. The gown was lovely, yet accepting such a gift from Tucker was completely inappropriate.
Not that she intended to give it back.
She sat on the bed thinking he must have had a motive. It wasn't fair to seduce her with items of clothing he knew she'd love. He really had no right to be buying her such things! She'd damn well tell him so!
She rushed across the hall and pounded on his door.
"Who's there?" Tucker called.
"Open the door, Tucker."
"Skylar?"
"Expecting someone else?" she asked as he slid the lock back.
"No" Tucker answered as the door swung wide, spilling light into the dark hall, light that reflected like golden sunshine upon the hard, chiseled planes of his naked chest. Clad only in his unfastened denims, he flashed a smile of pure mischief. His widened eyes skimmed down the front of her gown to her bare feet poking out beneath.
Skylar forgot all about the reason she'd convinced herself of for coming to his room. She forgot how to breathe, too caught up in the rush of desire caused by the sight of Tucker's approving gaze and half-clothed body. She wondered if it was normal for a woman to want a man the way she wanted him.
"Skylar, you—"
"I hate you," she sighed as she stepped into his welcoming arms, cutting off his words with her lips.
Tucker chortled low in his throat and pulled her firmly
against his body, returning her passionate kiss. He had been two seconds away from leaving this room and pounding on her door before he'd heard her knock.
Moments later, Tucker realized he was ravishing his woman in an open doorway, and blindly kicked the door shut. "Damn, Skylar," he whispered against her lips, "if this is how you greet someone you hate, I don't think I'd survive your affection."
Her trembling smile hit him low and hard, reminding him of the passion they had shared and how much he'd missed the upward curve of her lips in the past few days. He bent and swooped her into his arms. "I really don't think you hate me," he said as he carried her toward the bed.
"I do." She raked her fingers through his hair, her eyes dark with the desire he felt burning in every cell of his body.