Wilde Bunch

by Barbara Boswell

  Kara let him because she really was hungry, and because there was no point in running away from him. She was stuck here tonight. A truce was the sensible, adult course of action.

  She sat at the kitchen table while Mac heated the casserole in the microwave. Her eyes flicked to the cordless phone which stood upright on the small corner table, and she thought of tonight’s rather disjointed conversation with the reverend. “Why didn’t you give Uncle Will the correct date of my flight?” she dared to ask.

  “I figured he’d show up at the airport and I didn’t want to share you with him. I wanted your first hours in Montana to be spent with me.”

  “That sounds like another line.” Kara spoke her thoughts aloud. “What is the real reason?”

  “Well—” he flashed a sudden grin “—I do admit to having some qualms about meeting my future bride in the Rev’s presence. It might’ve been awkward if we’d taken an instant dislike to each other and he was right there trying to play Cupid. On the other hand, if we hit it off immediately, I didn’t want a chaperone interfering.”

  Kara resisted the urge to ask for his reaction to the first sight of her. She’d been there, she already knew. Although he hadn’t found her unspeakably repulsive, he had been less than impressed, resigned to what he considered to be his fate. He wouldn’t admit that, of course. He would make up some fairy tale about being smitten from the moment he’d set eyes on her. A queer little pang of longing flickered within her. It was depressing that she wished the fairy tale was true.

  “I’ve thought about it, and you do have a point,” Mac said, putting a handful of silverware on the table. “I’m not too original when it comes to—” he cleared his throat “—certain compliments. But in my defense, I truly mean what I say when I’m saying it.”

  Automatically, Kara arranged the silverware into two place settings, one for him and one for her. She knew without asking exactly what he was referring to. “So when you make love to a woman, you really believe she’s sexy and beautiful?”

  “Of course. Why would I want to make love to somebody I consider a troll?”

  “Why, indeed?” Kara hid a smile.

  “I’m sorry if I offended you. It certainly wasn’t my intention to insult you with a pack of generic adjectives.”

  “Your intention was to get me into bed because you wanted me so much, because I’m so sexy and beautiful,” Kara said drolly.

  “I don’t know why you find that so difficult to believe,” Mac growled. “Remember earlier tonight in the Jeep when—”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” Kara cut in quickly. She remembered “earlier tonight in the Jeep,” too well, and she’d already thought about it way too much. “Our truce includes no references to—to that.”

  “Who set the terms of this truce?” Mac put the steaming casserole on the middle of the table with a large serving spoon. “Suppose I insist on including references to that?”

  He was teasing her; he seemed to delight in it. But teasing him back would involve the kind of sexually charged exchange which was not her forte. Nervous, Kara decided to respond in the way she knew best. “What is the surprise in the ground meat surprise?” she asked blandly. When it came to the dull and the bland, few could match her, she thought rather glumly.

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise. But it goes great with some cold Mad Cougar Malt.” He took two cans of malt liquor out of the refrigerator and handed her one.

  Kara studied the rabid-looking cougar on the label. “I’ve never heard of this, uh, particular brand.”

  “It’s the ranch hands’ favorite brew.” Mac grinned. “Pure liquid fire. But you’ll need it to get past the taste of Mrs. Lattimore’s casserole.”

  “I think I’d rather have water, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. You can have one of Lily’s bottles of designer water or get it straight from the tap as we uncultured proletarians do.”

  She opted for tap water, and they proceeded to eat Mrs. Lattimore’s casserole, which was chock-full of ingredients one usually wouldn’t expect to find in the same dish. Nonetheless, it was edible, not putrid.

  “I put your bags in the spare bedroom,” Mac told her as she rinsed the plates in the kitchen sink. She’d taken on the cleanup chores while he sat back in his chair, sipping from the Mad Cougar can. “Of course, the invitation to share my room still stands.”

  “Tai and I will take the spare room, thanks.” She loaded the dishwasher and put the remains of the casserole back into the refrigerator. “I brought a bag of litter, and if you have a cardboard box, Tai will be all set.”

  “I’ll find a box.” Mac studied her thoughtfully. Anyone who carried kitty litter and cat food in her suitcase to provide for her cat certainly knew the meaning of responsibility. It stood to reason that such a woman must be enormously gifted with the hallowed maternal instinct he was seeking for the kids.

  “I couldn’t expect Uncle Will to run around town shopping for cat necessities,” she explained, looking sheepish. “I know you must think I’m weirdly compulsive or—”

  “I think you’re very conscientious.” His eyes traveled over her. She was also passionately responsive and seemed to grow prettier and more desirable by the minute. Not that he dared tell her so, not at the risk of incurring another lecture about making generic passes.

  He found a useable box and helped her move Tai to the spare bedroom, which was connected to his by a bathroom with two doors, each providing access. The room was sparsely furnished with only a bed and an old mahogany highboy in desperate need of restoration. The inevitable animal’s head was mounted on the wall. This one was a gentle-eyed deer, a doe who did not possess the spectacular antlers of the other trophy heads. No doubt that was why the poor thing had been banished to this little used, seldom seen room.

  “I see your grandfather didn’t spare Bambi’s mother.” Kara’s eyes were compulsively drawn to the doe staring down at them.

  “I get the feeling you don’t approve of hunting?”

  “I never gave it a single thought until I came here. Now I don’t know if it’s hunting or all those heads that gives me the creeps. This place is a taxidermist’s dream.”

  “When you marry me and move in, you can do some redecorating. Replace the heads with some nice pictures of flowers or fruit or something. I’m sorry about this room,” he continued quickly, before she could reply to that provocative offer. “It’s small and cold, but it’s the only available room in the house. Believe me, you would not want to sleep in one of the kids’ rooms, and you’ve made it clear you won’t sleep in mine. You can lock yourself in here if you’re worried I’ll make another pass by rote.”

  His self-mocking smile made her grin in response. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, meaning it. What scared her was the way he could make her go warm and weak inside with just a glance.

  “Good,” Mac said gruffly.

  They would have to share the master bathroom, which was large and rather luxurious with double sinks, a shower stall and a big old-fashioned bathtub. The proximity and intimacy would’ve unnerved her an hour earlier. Right now she was too tired to summon any anxiety.

  Mac gallantly insisted that she use the bathroom first, and after completing her nightly ablutions and slipping into her nightgown, a demure ankle-length pink cotton one with a yoke neck and long sleeves, she climbed into bed. Tai curled up at the foot of the bed, as was his habit at home.

  The mattress was very soft and seemed to envelop her. There was a chill in the air that required more warmth than the woolen blanket and cotton-ribbed spread provided. Kara thought longingly of that thick goose-down comforter on Mac’s bed and tried to wrap the covers more tightly around her.

  Still, she shivered from the cold. If she couldn’t get warm, she would never be able to fall asleep. Maybe if she got up and put on a pair of socks and a sweater—

  “Kara?”

  She heard Mac’s voice from the other side of the room. He’d e
ntered through the bathroom door which she hadn’t locked. Though the room was dark, her vision had adjusted enough to allow her to see a tall form moving slowly toward her.

  Her heartbeat took off at an alarming rate and she sat up, clutching the covers around her. “W-What do you want?” she asked, barely able to speak around the lump of fear in her throat. As if in a trance, she watched Mac approach the bed.

  His chest was bare, his corded strength and rippling muscles fully revealed. Her eyes flew to the dark mat of hair which arrowed lower, beneath the waistband of his loose-fitting boxers. Those shorts were the only thing he was wearing! She stared at the long, powerful lengths of his thighs and the unmistakable, thick bulge straining against the cotton material.

  Her jaw dropped, agape. He was so big, so strong. And she was all alone in this dark, isolated room with him.

  “I brought you some extra blankets.” Mac’s voice was deep and low. “It’s cold tonight, I’m sure you’ll need them.”

  “Oh.” The violent surge of anxiety was making her feel sick. Or perhaps it was the aftermath of Mrs. Lattimore’s casserole surprise. She hadn’t even noticed the blankets he carried, so focused had she been on his body and the threat it presented.

  She watched him drape the three heavy blankets over the bed, on top of Tai who was sleeping so deeply he never even twitched.

  Having completed the task, Mac stared down at her. Moonlight streaked into the room through the slats in the old-style venetian blinds, illuminating her face. She looked lovely—and absolutely terrified.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he said softly, reaching out to touch her lips. “So how come you look scared to death, like I’m a biker vampire who just flew into your room at the sorority house?”

  She tried to smile but her lips were trembling. “It occurred to me that I’ve been very stupid,” she murmured breathlessly. Her mouth felt oddly swollen as her lips moved against his caressing fingertips. “I’ve put myself in a very vulnerable position.”

  “True,” he agreed. He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “Which is why you need a husband to take care of you.” His hands drifted under the covers to her breasts. He gently cupped them. “I’ll look after you and won’t let you get into trouble—or vulnerable positions, either. Except with me, of course.”

  Kara was stunned and scared by the pleasure searing her as he touched her breasts. They had become excruciatingly sensitive. He lightly stroked around her nipples with his thumbs, coming close to the taut centers but not touching them. Oh, how she wanted him to! She gulped for breath, shocked by her wicked longing. “Mac, please, I—I—don’t...we—we can’t...”

  Her voice trailed off as her mind splintered. The pleasure was so intense it was interfering with her thinking, with her breathing! It was as if she’d been conditioned to his touch, beginning earlier tonight and continuing to this moment, readying her body for him.

  “We can, but we won’t,” Mac corrected huskily. “Not tonight, anyway. Now kiss me good-night and I’ll get out of here.”

  A shuddering sigh ripped through her as he claimed her mouth with his. He thrust his tongue boldly between her lips, which had instantly parted for him. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he plundered the moist sweet warmth of her mouth, probing the softness of her inner cheeks and persuasively enticing her tongue into a sensuous duel with his. He was making love to her mouth, and she moaned with sensuous pleasure.

  Hot tendrils of desire ribboned through her and when his hands found her breasts again, she pressed herself against his palms. His fingers continued to excite her by drawing erotic concentric circles around the ultrasensitive aureoles of her nipples. A dizzying liquid pleasure flooded her. She wriggled against his clever, masterful hands. If he didn’t touch the tips of her nipples, she would surely explode.

  He eased her back onto the mattress, and she clutched at him, threading her fingers through the dark springy thickness of his hair. Her nipples thrust seductively against the confinement of the thin pink cotton of her nightgown. Mac’s eyes narrowed and he lowered his mouth to one tempting plump curve.

  Kara felt his warm breath against her, then his mouth, hot and damp, closed over hers. The tip of his tongue found the hard pointed center, and she arched reflexively, crying out his name. Somehow, the buttons on the yoke of her nightgown had become undone, allowing him to push the material aside, baring her to him. His lips fastened around the taut pink bud, drawing her into his mouth. He suckled strongly, sending shock waves of primitive pleasure crashing through her. She twisted against him, clinging to him, wanting more, more...

  And then abruptly, it ended. He sat up, his breathing harsh and heavy. “We’re stopping now or we won’t stop at all.” His features were taut with strain, his dark eyes glittering.

  Kara lay on the bed, every nerve in her body crackling with a combination of fierce arousal and a frustration that was every bit as intense as the desire sizzling through her. There was a throbbing ache between her thighs that pounded in rhythm with the pulsating fullness of her breasts.

  She had never been so out of control, had never dreamed she was capable of feeling so passionate, so wild and wanton. It was as if her body had turned into a stranger, a traitorous one, who was eager to betray her sense of what was right and proper, who listened to Mac’s sensual demands rather than her own commands.

  Kara couldn’t lie to herself. If Mac hadn’t stopped her of his own accord, she wouldn’t have stopped him. She closed her eyes, unable to face him.

  “Good night, baby,” Mac rasped, leaning over her once more, his weight braced on his arms. He kissed her mouth briefly, firmly, then in an unmistakable show of possession, he moved his head lower to nuzzle the cleavage between her breasts. “Sleep well.”

  He knew he wouldn’t. His whole body was aflame and pulsing with need. He walked out of the room, his legs unsteady, the swollen ache of unslaked arousal affecting his gait.

  Kara did not call him back, and he didn’t turn around to look at her. He didn’t care. If he were to see her, lying there, soft and sensual and exposed to him, he would crawl into that bed with her and not leave it until they were both exhausted from their spent passion.

  He could’ve been doing that right now, he admonished himself. He could’ve taken her and she wouldn’t have even tried to stop him. She had been too far gone; he’d recognized all the signs of imminent surrender.

  Mac heaved a groan. Was he crazy? He’d had a hot willing woman eagerly writhing beneath him in bed, and he’d called a halt to what would’ve inevitably progressed to intercourse. Just the thought of plunging deep into her sweet softness brought a fine sweat to his skin. Despite the cool night, he lay on top of the quilt. He felt like a human furnace, radiating therms of heat.

  The problem was, when he’d recognized her loss of control he had also realized something else. That she was too inexperienced to control the sensations his kisses and caresses had aroused in her. He’d made her want him, set her afire with need and she did not have the experience to hold back or control her responses to him.

  So why hadn’t he taken her? Mac scowled into the darkness. It wasn’t as if she were going to be a one-night stand; he planned to marry her. That made his intentions strictly honorable, so what was the harm?

  Mac determinedly put his inexplicable behavior from his mind. He was not an introspective type, and he had little time or patience for self-analysis. Tomorrow he would continue his campaign to keep her here, he promised himself, and he would pull out all stops to win. That meant no stopping when passion flared between them. He knew it would flare, too, because she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  He closed his eyes and his mind drifted, the events of the past twenty-four hours tumbling through his head in kaleidoscope fashion. This time last night, he’d been worried, tossing and turning and wondering if he’d lost his mind for even considering the Rev’s mail-order-bride scheme. Tonight, he was tossing and turning
for an entirely different reason that had nothing to do with worrying and everything to do with the desire churning through him. For his mail-order bride.

  * * *

  Tai sat in the middle of the small bedroom and emitted a bloodcurdling yowl that jerked Kara awake, out of the deep dreamless sleep she’d finally fallen into shortly before dawn.

  He meowed again, protesting either his confinement to this one room or homesickness for the apartment back East. Kara sat up and reached for her watch, which she’d placed on the floor beside the bed. It was nearly nine o’clock. The lateness of the hour shocked her. As she had not yet adjusted to the time-zone changes, that meant she’d slept till almost eleven, eastern standard time. Later than she’d ever slept in her entire life!

  She felt decadent and slightly disoriented. The house was quiet except for Tai’s complaints, and she showered and shampooed her hair as quickly as possible, taking care to lock both bathroom doors. But Mac did not attempt to enter and there were no sounds at all from his adjacent bedroom. Kara dried her hair and dressed quickly, pulling on jeans and a soft lilac blouse. She dared to peek into Mac’s bedroom, but it was empty except for the ram’s head which glared accusingly at her. Kara quickly withdrew, feeling guilty for trespassing.

  “You look pretty!” Autumn greeted Kara enthusiastically the moment she stepped into the hall.

  Kara jumped, startled. Obviously, Autumn had been there waiting for her.

  “Lily said I couldn’t bother you till you came out,” Autumn said chattily. “Where’s the kitty? I heard him crying.”

  Tai dashed out of the room and charged down the hall, as if he were being pursued by an invisible gang of marauders. Or perhaps he was pursuing them.

  “Want a breakfast burrito?” Autumn offered. “I can defrost one for you in the microwave.”

  They walked down the hall together, side by side. Kara noted that Autumn was wearing her nightgown, and her long dark hair streamed wild and uncombed around her shoulders. It crossed her mind that this being a Tuesday, the child should have been in school. Perhaps the schools were closed for some local holiday? Autumn was certainly the picture of health, far too lively to be sick.