It was obvious what had just happened, and his heart clenched with her pain. Brandon Sinclair should be stood before a firing squad for what he’d done to her, for the scars he’d left behind.
She didn’t move away from his touch so he continued to rub her back and tell her it was okay. He tried not to notice the sexy curve of her back or the sweet scent that emanated from her warm skin.
Slowly her tears dried, but she still kept her face buried in the pillow, as if afraid to turn over and look at him.
“Janette, I’m not mad. Come on, turn over and look at me.”
“How can you not be mad? Women who do what I just did to you are called a terrible name.”
“There’s a difference between women who get off on the power of playing a man and a woman who is suffering post-traumatic stress. I promise you I’m not mad.”
She finally rolled over, the sheet clutched to her chest as she faced him. He leaned up on one elbow and smiled down at her. “It’s okay, really.”
She reached a hand up and touched the underside of his jaw. “How did you get to be such a nice man, Dalton West?”
“Trust me, at the moment I’m not feeling like such a nice guy. I’d like to find Brandon Sinclair and torture him slowly for a very long time.” He started to roll out of the bed but she caught him by the arm.
“Don’t go,” she said softly. “Can’t we just lie here and talk for a little while?”
She had no idea what she was asking of him. Blood still surged thick and hot through his veins. He was a man, not a saint, but maybe if he didn’t touch her again he could stand remaining next to her.
He rolled over just long enough to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, then turned back to face her.
“Would it help to talk about that night?” he asked gently.
“No. I was doing fine until you got on top of me.” Her cheeks turned pink and she averted her gaze from his. “It wasn’t until then that I had a flashback. With you on top of me I felt trapped…like I was suffocating…like I did that night with Sinclair.”
“That will teach me to try to be in control,” he said with a forced lightness.
She looked at him. “Maybe if I stay in control it will be okay. I mean, my head and my heart want to make love with you, it was just in that last minute that everything went wrong.”
“Maybe we should both just try to get some sleep,” he countered. He wasn’t sure he could go through the same thing again and not get relief. His body still ached with the need she’d wrought inside him.
He tensed as she reached over and stroked a hand across his chest. Instantly desire fired through him. Her fingers curled in his chest hair, then uncurled and moved down lower.
As she wrapped her fingers around him more intimately he hissed in a breath. She was trying to kill him with pleasure. “Janette,” he said, the word more a plea than a protest as he’d intended.
“Just…just let me,” she replied, her voice husky and deep.
Dalton had always been an active participant when he made love to a woman, but as she stroked him he remained on his back, not moving to touch her in any way.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his chest, and that coupled with her warm hand surrounding him nearly undid him. He hung on to control by a thread.
She moved her lips up his chest to capture his in a fiery kiss. Her breathing increased, and when she raised her head to look at him he saw the glaze of want in her eyes.
The most difficult thing he’d ever done was to remain passive. He wanted to reach up for her, take her into his arms. He wanted to taste her skin, feel the soft weight of her breasts, but he remained unmoving, allowing her to stay in total control.
Her naked body gleamed in the lamplight and her blond hair glistened as it fell forward, the tips trailing across his chest in added torment.
Her nipples were out and he fought the impulse to lean up and capture one in his mouth. Although he wanted to touch her, there was something unbelievably erotic in allowing her to make love to him on her own terms.
It wasn’t until she moved to get on top of him that he finally spoke. “There’s a condom in my wallet,” he managed to gasp.
She left him just long enough to open his wallet and retrieve the foil packet inside. She opened the packet and rolled the protection into place. He moaned with pleasure as she eased onto him, her sleek legs on either side.
He closed his eyes, knowing that if he continued to look at her he’d lose control too quickly. Her warmth gripped him tight as she rocked against him.
Her breaths came in quick pants and when he looked at her again her eyes were tightly closed and an expression of intense bliss shone on her features.
She moved faster and then she gasped and cried out his name. That was all it took. Dalton’s release came in an explosion that rocked him to his very core. It was only then that he touched her. He cupped her face with his hands and drew her down for a kiss.
She melted against him, her body warm against his, her lips sweet and yielding. When they finished kissing she rolled off him and to her back.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
A small burst of laughter escaped him. “Don’t thank me. That was absolutely amazing.” He rolled off the bed. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
He padded into the bathroom to clean up. Once alone, he thought about what had just happened and the fact that it shouldn’t have.
She was getting to him. Oh, but she was getting into places inside him that he hadn’t allowed anyone in for a very long time. And that scared him. That scared the hell out of him.
This situation…she was temporary. He’d sworn to himself that he would never again put himself in the position to help heal a woman so she could move on and fall in love with another man.
He’d sworn to himself he’d never again be a temporary hero for any woman, and yet wasn’t that exactly his role in this case? If he were smart he’d go back into the bedroom, get dressed and get the hell away from her.
But the moment he reentered the bedroom, all thoughts of leaving fled his head. She gave him that smile of hers, the one bright enough to light up the room, and patted the empty side of the bed.
“I hope you aren’t one of those men who fall immediately to sleep after sex,” she said.
No, he was the type of man who felt the need to run for the door and escape. Not exactly the actions of a gentleman. He slid back beneath the sheets.
“Are you accustomed to men who fall asleep after sex?” he asked teasingly.
She plumped the pillows behind her head and sat up, the sheet clutched modestly at her neck. “I’ve only had one real long-term relationship and, yes, he used to fall asleep.”
He rolled over on his side to face her and propped himself up on his elbow. “Is that why you aren’t with him anymore?”
She grinned, looking incredibly sexy with her hair tousled and her full lips still slightly swollen from his kisses. “No. He worked as a rehab nurse and I met him when Nana needed rehabilitation after her stroke. We dated for almost a year.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, her features contemplative. “He got a job offer from a hospital in Indianapolis and moved there.”
“He didn’t ask you to go with him?”
“No. I think he knew I wouldn’t go, that I couldn’t leave Nana. It wasn’t a great love affair. It was pleasant and nice while it lasted, but after he was gone I realized I wasn’t deeply, madly in love with him.”
“And that’s important to you? To be deeply, madly in love?” he asked.
She flashed him that brilliant smile of hers. “Of course. I think it’s what every woman wants, among other things.”
“And what other things do you want?” He tried to tell himself that he really didn’t care, that he was just trying to hold up his end of the conversation. But deep inside he knew that wasn’t true. He wanted to know her desires, her wants, the very dreams that drove her.
“A home,
security. I want a job that I love and to be able to provide Sammy with things and opportunities I didn’t have. I want to be able to afford to order pizza whenever I want it. Oh, yeah, and world peace.”
He laughed and she unclasped her hands from around her knees and stretched out on her side facing him. “Now tell me about the women in your past.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’ve had a few relationships, but nothing too serious. I’ve told you before, I like living alone, being alone.” He needed to remind himself as much as her of this fact.
At that moment Sammy began to cry from the living room. He watched as she slid from the bed, grabbed a robe from the nearby chair and pulled it on. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”
As she left the room Dalton rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The feeling returned—the need to run, to escape. Not just from Janette, but from the whole situation. He’d talked her into agreeing to stick around, to help them bring Brandon Sinclair to justice.
The man was dangerous and until they could get the evidence they needed to put him behind bars, he was a threat to Janette’s very life.
He felt fairly confident having her here at the cabin. Deep on West property, the cabin was known only by a few. The ranch hands would certainly notice a stranger wandering the property and would demand an explanation of his presence.
Still, if anything happened to her or to Sammy, Dalton would feel responsible for the rest of his life. He hoped he hadn’t made a mistake in talking her into staying and fighting, because it could be a mistake with deadly consequences.
*
Janette stopped in the kitchen to fix Sammy a bottle and carried it into the living room. The minute he saw her he stopped fussing. He’d drink this bottle then would sleep through the night.
She changed his diaper, then carried him back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed to give him the bottle. She was conscious of Dalton’s gaze on her as she looked down at her son. “He makes me want to be better than I am,” she said. She looked at Dalton. “That’s what kids do for you.” Sammy grinned at Dalton around the bottle nipple, as if punctuating her sentence.
For a few minutes they were silent, the only sound Sammy greedily drinking his formula. Janette’s head was filled with myriad emotions. Love for her son tangled with an underlying fear of what lay ahead and, as she cast a surreptitious glance to Dalton, other less easily defined emotions rose up inside her.
Certainly gratitude filled her heart, not just for what he’d done in taking her in and keeping her safe, but also for allowing her to reclaim a piece of herself, a piece she’d thought forever broken.
“You gave me back my life tonight,” she said to Dalton.
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?”
“No, I don’t,” she countered. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to experience joy in lovemaking again. I thought my experience with Sinclair had destroyed that part of me. You showed me tonight that he didn’t.”
She frowned thoughtfully, remembering those moments of sudden panic when Dalton had moved on top of her. “I know it’s going to take time before all the trauma of Sinclair is gone, but tonight definitely went a long way in my healing process.”
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Someday you’ll find the man who can give you all the things you want from life.”
She smiled. “I don’t need a man to give me all the things I want. I intend to go out and get them. But, it would be nice to have somebody to share it all with.”
She looked back down at Sammy. She had the feeling Dalton had said what he had to remind her that he wasn’t the man for her. He didn’t have to bother.
Even though she realized her heart was getting hopelessly involved with him, she knew better than to expect a happy ending. He’d made his position perfectly clear and she didn’t expect that to change.
“Once Sinclair is in jail, do you intend to return to Sandstone?” he asked.
“To be honest, I haven’t had enough time to think about it.” She glanced back down at Sammy. The trailer they’d called home was gone. “There’s really nothing left for us there except bad memories. If you’re putting Nana in a safe place in Kansas City, then maybe that’s the place where we should start over.”
Sammy had fallen back to sleep, his bottle empty and his belly full. “You want me to bring the cradle in here?” Dalton asked.
“Do you mind?”
He got up and pulled on his briefs, then left the room. As he exited, she couldn’t help the flutter of heat that swept through her at the sight of his near-nakedness. He had a physique that most men would envy and most women would want. And she wanted him again.
It surprised her, the healthy burst of lust that filled her. She hadn’t thought about sex in over a year, but one time with Dalton and suddenly her head was filled with lustful thoughts.
And there was nothing more sexy than a man in briefs carrying a cradle, she thought as he returned to the room. He set the cradle on the floor on her side of the bed, then got back beneath the sheets.
She got up and put Sammy back into the cradle, then got back into bed next to Dalton. He turned off the lamp and the room was plunged into darkness with just a faint cast of moonlight dancing shadows on the walls.
Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about what she’d agreed to do by staying here. Even if the bus pulled up in Cotter Creek tomorrow, she wouldn’t get on it.
A sliver of fear iced through her, chilling her to her bones. What if the special prosecutor didn’t believe her story? Right now Sinclair could be manufacturing all kinds of evidence against her. He could bully anyone in town to say anything he wanted about her.
She fought the impulse to lean over and take Sammy from the cradle and hold him in her arms. She wanted to hold him tight, kiss his cheeks and smell his baby sweetness, because she had no idea if a time would come in the future when he’d be lost to her forever.
*
Dalton awoke first and found his arms filled with a warm, sleeping Janette. They were spoon fashion, him curled around her slender back. He drew in the scent of her, that floral perfume that enticed him.
It was only now, in this moment with her body warm against his and his defenses not erected that he could admit to himself that he’d grown to care about her more than he’d ever thought he’d care about a woman again in his life.
It was late. He could tell by the cast of the sun shining through the window that he’d slept longer than he’d intended. Of course, he hadn’t drifted off to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.
He’d spent much of the night listening to Janette breathing peacefully in sleep and worrying about the decision he’d encouraged her to make. He now contemplated what he needed to accomplish that day because it was easier to focus on that rather than the feelings he had for Janette.
He needed to call Trent Cummings, the special prosecutor, and see when he could get the man out here to meet with Janette. He also needed to make arrangements to get Nana out of Sandstone and to the safe house in Kansas City.
Hopefully they could connect with Trent in the next day or so and get things rolling. He closed his eyes and breathed in Janette’s scent.
In many ways she amazed him. He’d expected her to fight him about staying and seeking justice, he’d expected her to demand he put her on the next bus out of town. The fact that she’d agreed to stand and fight against Brandon Sinclair instead of running showed him the immense inner strength she possessed.
He knew he wasn’t only getting too close to her, but she was getting too close to him, as well. Their relationship, such as it was, was built on forced proximity and circumstances beyond their control.
It had nothing to do with reality. He was a temporary measure of safety in her life, just as he’d been in Mary’s. He rolled away from Janette and off the bed, glad that he didn’t awaken her in the process.
He grabbed his clothes from the floor and
padded into the bathroom. Minutes later, standing beneath a hot shower, he tried not to think about how her long legs had felt when she’d straddled him, how hot her mouth had been against his skin.
Brandon Sinclair had left scars inside her that would take time to heal, but Dalton felt certain that eventually Janette would be able to have a loving, passionate relationship with a special man.
He frowned, irritated by the fact that he didn’t like the idea of Janette making love with another man.
By the time he was out of the shower and dressed, Janette was up and making coffee in the kitchen. Clad in her pink robe, she looked soft and utterly feminine and a renewed burst of desire hit Dalton hard in the stomach.
“I’ve got to get back to town,” he said gruffly.
“Surely you can stay long enough to have coffee and some breakfast,” she replied. “I was just going to make some scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “I’ve got a lot to do today. And you need to call your nana and tell her what’s going on.” He sat at the table. “I’ll call you later with details and we can set up getting her moved as soon as possible.”
“Good, that will make me feel better.” She poured him a cup of coffee, set it in front of him then returned to the counter where she put two slices of bread into the toaster, then began to crack eggs into an awaiting bowl. Sammy began to fuss from the bedroom.
“Want me to get him?” Dalton asked, figuring he needed to go back in the bedroom to get his wallet and gun, anyway.
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”
The minute Dalton entered the room, Sammy stopped his fussing and began to coo, as if attempting to tell Dalton something very important.
Dalton grabbed his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, then tucked the gun into the back of his waistband and picked up the little boy.
Sammy wiggled in his arms and flung out a hand that promptly latched on Dalton’s nose. “Hey, little buddy,” Dalton whispered. “That’s my nose.” Sammy smiled in delight and Dalton’s heart moved. This little boy had no idea that he was in the center of a storm, a storm that had the potential to see his mother either in jail or dead.
Glory, Glory: Snowbound with the Bodyguard Page 27