“Right,” he said. They started out of town toward his house. He didn’t take his eyes off the road.
They rode several more miles before he spoke again. “So how long before Miller starts his logging project?”
“It could happen any time.”
As they neared the turnoff to his house she realized a comradeship had developed between them. She didn’t know precisely when it began. Perhaps weeks ago when he took her home after Kenny hit her. It didn’t feel like a bad thing.
The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows by the time they rolled to a stop in his driveway. He reached across and cupped her nape, rubbed her taut neck muscles with his thumb.“Come in. I’ll buy you a beer.”
“You know I don't drink beer.”
“Figure of speech. I’ll scare up a Pepsi.”
Was this a continuation of what had started outside her hotel room door last night? His heated good-night kiss as well as his less-than-subtle attempt to invite himself into her hotel room had made falling asleep difficult last night and the evening had come back to her at least a dozen times throughout today. She shrugged and smiled. “Okay,” she said. Just like that.
She remained in her seat, watching him unfold his lanky frame from behind the wheel, wondered what she had submitted to by saying okay.
As he opened her car door, he offered her his hand. She stepped out and let herself be tugged along toward a neat deck on which sat a massive weathered rocking chair. Seeing it brought to mind his telling her he watched for her lights at night and she sensed an inexplicable thrill at that.
The bare wooden floor creaked as they walked into his living room.“Have a seat,” he said and left the room. She remained standing.
He returned with two cans of Pepsi. He popped the tops and handed her one. “Be right back.” He came back carrying a pair of slippers and handed them to her. “Here. You can lose those high heels.”
“Okay. I guess.” Alex stepped out of her shoes and into his. They swallowed her narrow feet. They both laughed. “What size are these?”
“Eleven.” He placed a hand on her back and she felt herself being ushered toward the living room’s only seating, a thick-armed, distressed leather sofa crouched across from a river-washed rock fireplace. A wrought-iron coffee table with a thick glass top huddled on a large nubby rug that looked like cotton.
All in all, a masculine domain. When she had been here a few days ago, she hadn’t even noticed it.
She sank to the edge of the sofa, holding her Pepsi can with both hands and forcing herself to move past the awkwardness she felt. Even if she hadn’t been thinking off-limits thoughts about him earlier, she would still have felt out-of-place. She rarely visited in people’s homes except to discuss real estate they wanted to sell. As many years as she had known her Los Angeles assistant, Judy, she had been in her home only a couple of times.
He went to a CD player tucked into bookshelves lining one wall and tinkered with it. She studied his shelves. Many of his books appeared to be text books, which reminded her how much better educated he was than she. Without question, she was overmatched and a familiar need to be on the defensive began to creep in.
A soulful female voice rose softly from small speakers on either side of the CD player. “You like blues?” he asked.
“Well…a little, I guess.
“I’ll bet you don’t even listen to music.”
“Yes, I do. When I’m working in my office and when I’m driving. But I don’t pay much attention to it. I don’t know the names of artists. Or songs, for that matter. Believe it or not, when I was a little kid, I could play the guitar.”
He grinned and tucked back his chin. “The hell. Don’t do it anymore, huh?”
“I don’t have time.”
“You know this one, don’t you? Billy Holiday?”
“I know the name. And I know her history. I just don’t know the music.”
“Stick with me, babe. An old guitar player should appreciate the finer points of the blues.” He winked.
She smiled at his joke. Maybe the reason she liked him was because he joked, unlike most of the men she knew
“You look uncomfortable. Take off your jacket. If you want to get out of those panty hose, I won’t tell anybody. The bathroom’s in the hall, just around the corner.”
That sounded good. She felt tired. Topping off the stress of the last few days with a heavy lunch had left her numb and logy. “Maybe I will.” She set her Pepsi can on the coffee table and slipped out of her suit jacket. Then she scuffed her way in his oversized shoes to the tiny square bathroom that had obviously been added on years back. It was maybe a quarter the size of her bathroom on Wolf Mountain. She peeled off her panty hose and carried them back to the living room, where she stuffed them into her shoes.
He was lounging on the sofa, bare feet propped on the coffee table’s top. “Feel better?”
Seeing his bare feet jolted her. She hadn’t seen a man’s bare feet in years. “Uh, sure.”
“I hung your jacket in the coat closet.”
“Oh….Well, thank you.”
“Sit,” he said, patting the seat beside him. “Put your feet up.”
She sank to the edge of the sofa and picked up her Pepsi, trying to ignore the fact that with ridding herself of panty hose, she was without underwear. The lacy top she had on wasn’t exactly modest, either.
“Lean back,” he said. “Put your feet up.”
She obeyed and propped her own narrow feet beside his longer, wider ones. “Your feet are tanned. Did you hang out on the beach in Santa Monica?”
“Not much.”
The mellow sounds of “My Man’s Gone Now” filled her head. “Your music. More old things with history.” From out of nowhere, a shiver passed over her.
“Cold?”
“No. Just unwinding.”
He stood up. “Remember the night we danced in the Rusty Spur?”
She grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”
He reached for her hand and she let him draw her to her feet and into a dance position. “I told you, I don’t judge,” he said.
“Well, I do. That night was stupid.”
“You’re being hard on yourself. You’re not the first person to try to lose a bad day in a bottle of hooch.”
“If there’s anyone who knows problems don’t dissolve in liquor, it’s me.”
“Do you remember what you said to me that night?” The question in his soft voice was seductive, for though she might like to forget, she hadn’t. An odd sensation traveled through her belly. “You mean about the music? Or...”
“Either. Or both.”
“A gentleman wouldn’t remind someone of her bad behavior.”
He held her against him as they swayed in place, his cheek brushing hers. She could feel his warm breath against her temple, could smell his scent.
“You think I’m a gentleman?” he asked softly.
“I think you’re a gentle man, though you come from a violent profession.”
He took her hand to his chest and covered it with his own. She could feel his strong, steady heartbeat, She had never felt so secure. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.
“That’s it, baby. Just relax.”
The next thing she knew, his hand had closed over her nape and he was tilting her head back. His lips settled softly on hers. His kiss was gentle. Earnest. Non-invasive. An endearing hum came from his throat. “Oh, lady. You are so sweet.”
“I’ve almost forgotten how to kiss.”
“Not true.” He turned her once. “My bedroom’s just up the hall,” he whispered.
She swallowed. “Doug, I can’t—”
“Don’t say no, baby. Please don’t say no.”
“It’s too scary.”
“You’re safe with me. Honest to God, you’re safe.”
She stepped away from him and looked into his beautiful silver eyes. Strangely enough, she believed him.
He offered his hand. She swallowed a gulp and t
ook it, let him lead her up the hall. Her heart raced. “This is scary,” she said, but didn’t resist.
“Loneliness is scary. This is normal.”
Then they were standing beside a bed in a small, tight room dimly lit by late afternoon sun filtering through closed blinds. “This is crazy,” she whispered.
“No. What’s crazy is fighting each other the way we’ve been doing.”
Still holding her hand, he pulled back his bedspread and the top sheet, then drew her against him and kissed her again. His left hand moved down and cupped her bottom and pressed her into him. His erection felt hard and huge. She didn’t pull back, but when he increased the pressure and moved her against him, anxiety darted around in her rib cage. “This is dangerous. We shouldn’t be—”
“Shhh,” he whispered, “don’t be afraid.”
But she was afraid. She didn’t know how to behave, had forgotten how to respond. But she made no effort to move away. “I’m not,” she lied.
He kept kissing her eyes, her nose, her ear. Her breasts began to feel heavy and achy and that funny feeling in her belly seemed to be moving lower. She raised her arms around his neck.
His hands found their way under her skirt and clasped her bottom, his palms burning hot against her bare skin and sending little prickles clear to her toes. “I—I didn’t have on any underwear under my pantyhose.
“There’s a blessing everywhere.”
She sensed his strength as he lifted her slightly, eased her back onto the bed and followed her down. Her skirt hiked up and she felt herself exposed. A jolt of panic shook her. “I’m—I’m out of practice at this.”
“Riding a bicycle,” he whispered, squeezing her bare hip. “You don’t have to do a thing. Leave it to me.”
****
Doug could feel her tension. He vowed this would be good for her if it killed him. And as hard and ready as he was, it just might. He bent his head and closed his mouth over her nipple, sucked her through the lace of her top. A little noise escaped her throat.
He kissed her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and at the same time smoothing his hand down her belly and cupping her sex. He eased his fingers through her tangle of damp curls and parted her. She was so wet. Any misgivings he had that this might be one-sided vanished. His dick turned hard as a crowbar. He drew a deep breath, slowing himself down before he went off like an anxious teenager. “Open your legs a little,” he murmured.
Her knees fell open. He turned his hand palm up and pushed a finger into the hot, soft sheath waiting for him. Her breath caught, her eyes flew open and locked on his.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
Her fingers gripped his biceps. Her hips lifted and she pushed herself against his hand. He had found the spot he was seeking. “You feel so good... like silk.”
He gently moved his finger inside her, felt her start to relent. He drew out her moisture and played with her, slowly sliding his fingers up and down, stroking every layer of her sex. “Good?”
“Yesss...”
He pushed his finger back into her and began a steady rhythm. “Come,” he whispered.
“Oh...I don’t—I don’t know—”
She began to make frantic little grunts. He rubbed her inside, slow and easy, watching her face. A crease showed between her brows, her mouth twitched, but she didn’t open her eyes.
He leaned down and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth and keeping rhythm with his fingers inside her. “Tell me when—”
“Oh...I think...”
He used his thumb and found the tiny hooded spot. She sobbed an outcry. Her hips pumped against his hand. He hung on until she finished and reached for him, whimpering and panting. He drew her into his arms and held her. “Shhh.”
She clung to his shirt. “But you didn’t,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Oh, baby, I will. We’re just getting started.” He kissed her long and deep and she returned a kiss so hot and passionate he could have whimpered himself. “Oh, Alex...”
He should undress. He should undress her, but he didn’t want to stop for even a few seconds and risk ruining what was happening between them. He trailed his open mouth down her body until he reached her silky belly. “You’re so soft...so sweet...”
“Oh....You’re...whiskery—”
“Does it hurt?...I shaved early—”
“No....No, it’s...umm...”
“I don’t want anything to hurt you.”
“No, it’s fine....It’s—Doug...what are you doing?”
“Lift your knees, baby. Let me—”
“Doug...you shouldn’t—”
“Don’t stop me.”
Chapter 27
Not ready to say all that he felt, Doug struggled for the right words. If he knew anything, he knew the wrong ones could be devastating.
Except for Alex’s missing panty hose, they were both still dressed and he was sprawled on top of her. He wanted to stay right there for the rest of his life, but he pulled out and moved to her side and tried to bring her with him. She tugged down the hem of her skirt and covered herself, then turned her back on him, drawing her knees up into a fetal position.
He expected her to be embarrassed. Her participation had been anything but reticent if several powerful orgasms could be used as measurement.
He gingerly placed a hand on her side. “Hey...” Disheartened when she didn’t respond, he gave her a little shake. “Hey, talk to me.”
When she didn’t speak, he turned her to face him. She didn’t look him in the eye with that laser blue gaze he had come to know. In fact, she looked almost shy. Her hair was tossed in disarray. Even in the room’s low light, he could see her mouth swollen from rough kissing, the skin around it red from his late-day beard. She looked sated and seductive and he longed to hear her say something, even a sarcastic remark.
He buried his face against her neck, breathed in her clean scent. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “It went okay. You’re so good...Jesus, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her, could feel her body trembling, though she lay still as a statue.
All at once, without a word she sat up and pulled away from him, straightening her clothes.
Okay, no soft talk.
She stood and raked her hair back from her face with her hands.
Maybe she needed the bathroom. He braced himself on one elbow, looking up at her. “Clean towels and stuff are hanging on the rack in the bathroom.”
Without a word, she left the bedroom. Shit.
He got to his feet and hiked up his pants. The waning sun had brought a cooler temperature. When she came back, they would crawl under the covers and hold each other and talk. He would tell her his feelings, drag hers out of her, make her understand the depth of what had just happened.
He sat back down on the edge of the bed, marveling at fate’s strange twists. When he saw her at Culpepper’s party yesterday, never in his most far-out imaginings could he have predicted that twenty-four hours later they would have the most incredible sex he’d had in years. It was different when you truly cared about someone. He had suspected her cool façade hid a passionate woman, but Christ Almighty, he hadn’t expected a volcano. Yet another part of the ever-evolving Alex McGregor. “Thank you, Jesus,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes heavenward.
The sound of a car engine just outside startled him. Heart in his throat, he sprang to his feet and stamped up the hall, calling her name. He reached the kitchen window just in time to see tail lights as that fancy SUV reached the end of his driveway. It turned onto the county road.
“Fuck!”
He shot a look to where she had left her shoes. No shoes. He stood for a moment staring at his dark living room. Billy Holiday crooned as if nothing had gone wrong. “Goddammit,” he muttered.
His socks and shoes lay by the sofa. He walked to them, dropped onto the sofa seat, pulled the socks on and shoved his feet into the shoes. Then he yanked a windbreaker from the ski machine’s handleba
r and pulled her suit jacket out of the small front closet. As an afterthought, he stopped off in the bathroom for his toothbrush and set out for her house.
****
Gripped by self-censure, Alex sat at her breakfast bar with a spoon, a box of saltines and a jar of peanut butter. The cats perched nearby, watching her. Had her brain entered a new body? It must have, because the old body had defied all reason and common sense directed by her cerebral organ.
She had been a fool. Even knowing his reputation, she had let a jock super-stud lead her to his bed like a lamb to slaughter and he’d had her under him in no more than what, twenty minutes? Half an hour? He probably had spent longer seducing Cindy Evans. An image of his hands under Cindy’s skirt at Granite Pond flashed in her mind, her brain ached. Her heart ached a little, too, if she admitted the truth.
Oh, he had been clever. And so polished a caution light hadn’t even come on in her head. The jerk had softened her resistance by bringing her his slippers, thus ridding her of a few inhibitions along with her shoes. He had even talked her into removing her panty hose for comfort. For comfort? Hah. As much as he knew about women, he probably knew she wasn’t wearing panties. She should have been. At least panties would have made it less easy for him to...
Her cheeks flamed at the thought of how she had done everything and anything he urged in his deep whisper, how he had touched her everywhere with his fingers, even his eyes. She had lain there spread open, letting him look his fill. Then he had used his mouth and tongue to...
On his order, she had even wrapped her legs around his waist and taken him deep inside her, had begged him, actually begged him, to...
She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. “You stupid woman,” she mumbled. “How could you be so juvenile?”
The crunch of tires on gravel halted her self-flagellation. Had he followed her? Surely not.
She heard heavy footfall on her wooden deck steps. Peering around the corner from the kitchen to look through the front door’s glass panes, she saw he had reached the top step. A tight knot pressed against her chest wall. Her first impulse was to turn off the lights and ignore him.
The Love of a Stranger Page 29