That much she though was obvious. “Because you let yourself make love to an untried virgin. Expecting a symphony, you got someone playing a comb wrapped in tissue paper.”
“What the hell are you babbling about?” he demanded angrily.
The anger was directed at himself, but she had no way of knowing that. Hurt, she turned away from him and got up. Trying to see her clothes through tears that she refused to shed. Tears that were blinding her vision anyway.
“Don’t bother ‘apologizing,”’ she retorted. “I don’t want your damn apology.”
He hadn’t a clue what she was carrying on about, he only worried that he’d hurt her. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about—symphonies and tissue paper.” None of it made any sense to him. “I just know that a woman’s first time is supposed to be with someone who counts.”
“And you don’t.”
She assumed that was what he meant. That he didn’t count and that he didn’t want to count. She saw Max begin to answer, knowing in her heart that the answer would have something to do with their being literally worlds apart and she’d be returning to hers shortly. She didn’t want to hear it. Any of it.
“Don’t you think it’s up to the woman to decide who she wants her first time to be with?” she demanded.
“Yes.” Sitting up, he dragged his hand through his hair. How could she be a virgin? “I don’t understand. You were engaged—”
“I was busy,” she snapped, then realized how terribly lame that excuse had to sound.
How terribly lame it actually was.
Maybe she’d always been so busy because she was afraid to consummate anything, afraid to commit her body and heart where her mind had told her to go. She didn’t know, but all that was behind her now and didn’t count anymore. What had just happened, did. For better or for worse.
“Fortunately,” she added, the tiniest of smiles finding its way to her lips. “Otherwise, my first time would have been with a first-class rat.” Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “Instead of you.”
“Lily.” Fighting mixed feelings that were even now beginning to give way to desire, Max reached for her hand and pulled her back to bed. “You should have told me.”
Not really wanting to rush out, she let herself be pulled back.
“And just where in the conversation could I have worked that in? ‘Hand me the cayenne pepper—oh, and yes, by the way, I’m a virgin.”’ She laughed shortly at the absurdity of it all. “For God’s sake, you people don’t even have enough cayenne pepper up here, how could I hope that you’d understand why I am the way I am?”
He didn’t see how one had anything to do with the other, but it didn’t matter. “I didn’t have to understand, I just had to know.”
“So that, what? You could toss me aside, knowing that you wouldn’t get your money’s worth if you continued to make love to me?”
“Where the hell did you get that ridiculous notion from? And what makes you think that you were the slightest bit lacking? You weren’t. You should have told me you were a virgin so that at the very least, I could make it memorable for you.”
Lily caught her lower lip between her teeth, looking at him. Tears came out of nowhere, filling her. Tears not of disappointment, but of a strange, heady joy. “And what makes you think you didn’t?”
The words, low, whispered, seductively moved along his skin. Making him want her all over again. Damn, but she did have some kind of power over him. “You make it awfully hard for a man to just walk away.”
“Then don’t,” she entreated softly, her hand on his arm, her eyes on his. “Don’t walk away.”
It was all the encouragement he needed.
“Suddenly,” he told her as he took her into his arms, “I can’t move.”
It was then that she grinned at him, the moment flowering into a bouquet of possibilities, the hurt vanishing as if it had all been just a bad dream, best forgotten.
“You’d better,” she warned with a laugh before she sealed her lips to his.
He watched her get dressed.
His temperature cooling, his logic returning, Max still couldn’t drag his eyes away from the pleasurable sight. Lily Quintano was a beautiful woman, with or without clothing.
Pulling on his trousers, Max stooped to pick up her cell phone. As his hand closed over it, it all but danced in his palm.
He looked at her quizzically as he offered the small item to her. “I’m not sure, but I think your phone’s shivering.”
Still encased in a euphoric haze, Lily was in no hurry to answer it. “I put it on vibrate before I tossed it aside.”
He glanced around to see where his shirt had landed. “Maybe you’d better answer it and put Arthur out of his misery.”
It continued to vibrate. “How do you know it’s Arthur?”
He grinned, picking up his shirt. “I’m the sheriff. I know these things.”
As she flipped the phone open, Max dropped his shirt back to the floor. Coming up behind her, he encircled her waist with his arms and pulled her to him.
About to speak, Lily could feel Max’s hard, smooth chest against her back. It took effort to concentrate. It took more effort not to sigh.
“Hello?”
“Where have you been?” Arthur demanded in a plaintive whine. “I’ve been monitoring all the news channels, listening for avalanche or earthquake reports.” He huffed, his voice cracking. “I thought you were dead.”
A sliver of guilt found its way into the afterglow that was blanketing her. “Trouble with reception,” she lied.
Arthur clearly was in the dark. “What did you mean by ‘not now’ then?” he whined. “I heard you say that just before the connection suddenly went down.”
“Can’t remember,” she answered blithely. “Why don’t you tell me why you called before we lose the connection again?”
Behind her, she could feel Max lifting her hair from her neck. Before she could turn her head to ask him what he was doing, she felt his lips against her nape. Kissing her. Scrambling her thoughts.
Her heart began to drum so loudly, she had trouble hearing Arthur.
“I need to know if I should go ahead and order two hundred and fifty squab for the Douglas reception next month? Or do you want to do it when you get back?” he added hopefully.
Get back.
Lily didn’t want to think about that. She still had a week’s vacation left and she wanted to concentrate on that. Getting back did not hold the allure it had held just a few hours ago.
“You do it, Arthur.” She heard the nervous intake of breath on the other end of the line. “You’ll do fine. Just make sure you keep a diary.”
“A diary?” Max asked as she terminated the call a few minutes later. He took the phone from her and tossed it onto his discarded shirt. “Just how old did you say this Arthur was?”
“I meant as in everything he does at the restaurant. I don’t want to go back to a disaster.”
He nodded, not wanting to think about anything beyond the moment.
It seemed so odd to him, feeling that way. He’d always believed in living each moment as it came, but he knew that the present moment rested in the foundation of the moments that had come before and was a stepping stone to the moments, hours, days, that were to come after.
Now he wanted nothing but the moment. Divested of anything else. Because anything else meant that she would be gone.
He nibbled on her ear, then looked at her just as she shivered, a sexy look in his eyes. “So, as I recall, you promised me dinner.”
It took a moment to work her heart out of her throat. “You’re hungry?” she asked in disbelief.
“Starved,” he said. The next moment, to prove it, he kissed her.
Excitement pulsed in her veins as she pulled her head back to look at him. “And just what is it you have in mind for the main course?”
His hands slid all along her body as he molded her to him. “Guess.”
She
didn’t have to guess. She knew. He wanted the same thing she did. Maybe she hadn’t been the inadequate lover she’d been so afraid she would be.
Mischief danced in her eyes as she pretended to protest. “But we just got dressed.”
He was already undoing the clasp at her bra, his hands moving so as to catch the soft flesh that was newly freed from its confinement. He saw desire flicker in her eyes, felt his own rise further.
“The really great thing about clothes is that they work both ways. You don’t have to stick with them once you have them on. They can come right off again.” He reached for the hem of her tank top. “Let me give you a demonstration.”
He didn’t get to finish what he was saying. Lily brushed her lips against his and suddenly all words became unnecessary.
There was only now, and each other. Nothing else mattered or existed beyond that.
It was enough.
Chapter Twelve
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. What in heaven’s name had she been thinking?
Trying to get a grip on the sudden spike in her temper, Lily threw another section of spareribs on the cutting board and picked up the cleaver.
Yes, it had been wonderful, no question about it. As a first, last, in-between experience, making love with Max had been fantastic, but now it was in her past and it resided there as a mistake.
She brought down the cleaver with a vengeance, separating one section of meat from another in a clean, sharp cut.
What you don’t know, you can’t miss, only in theory, but not in actuality. And now she knew. Knew what it was like to make exquisite love with a man.
She brought the cleaver down again. Whack!
A rotten man.
As Lily swung the meat cleaver down hard on the cutting board again, the kitchen in the saloon resounded with the noise.
She’d finally gotten into Max’s kitchen last night to warm up the all-but-forgotten meal when there’d been a knock on his door. Hurrying to get things ready, she’d been startled to hear a woman’s voice. A very young woman’s voice.
Her heart had constricted even before she’d walked out into the living area to see Vanessa standing in the doorway. Max had just grabbed her parka and was pushing it back onto her body. Her very supple, very nude body.
The anger that had flashed over her in that instant had all but blinded Lily. It was the incident in Allen’s apartment all over again.
How could she have been so stupid as to think that anything could be different out here?
Especially out here, she underscored mentally, picking up yet another rack of spareribs. Out here men hungered for women like they thirsted for beer.
More, because there was more beer to be had than women.
Trying to keep her mind on what she was doing, Lily pressed her lips together to hold back the unexpected sob that rose up in her throat. Had to be the onions she’d been chopping. Couldn’t be because of the man. He damn well wasn’t worth it.
Everything had happened quickly after that.
She remembered gasping. Max had swung around to look at her then, surprise and guilt in his eyes. There’d been a smug look on the young girl’s face.
That was when she’d seen the keys on the side table. Grabbing them, she’d run out and commandeered his vehicle, not caring if it was official property or not. He and that minutes-from-being-underage plaything of his could stay there and freeze to death in each other’s arms for all she cared.
Too bad it was summer, she remembered thinking. If there’d been any justice in heaven, it would have been the height of winter.
She’d heard Max calling her name, but she hadn’t even bothered to turn around. She’d just wanted to get away.
Muttering to herself, she paused to stir first one giant pot on the stove, then another before returning to the cutting board.
Whack!
This morning, she’d given Alison no explanation as to why she’d returned without her pots, said nothing about why Max’s vehicle had been parked in front of their house. She’d planned to just keep to herself the entire day. She would have gone silently into the night, as well, but Ike had come by to take her up on her promise. Overriding her feeble protest, he’d brought her to the Salty.
The best thing for her, actually. The only therapy that worked.
With another mighty swing that was far too energetic for the small piece of meat on the cutting board, Lily brought the cleaver down on the spareribs. One side nearly popped off the board, but she grabbed it just in time. Taking both severed pieces, she threw them into the pot.
They hit the metal side first with a jarring noise before sinking into the bubbling sauce.
There seemed to be no dissipating the anger within her. Lily picked another rack out of the opened bag next to her on the counter and threw it on the board. “Have those spareribs done something to offend you, darlin’?”
Startled, the cleaver halted in midswing, she looked up to see Ike standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His arms crossed in front of him, he was observing her. There was a mildly amused look on his face. She had absolutely no idea how long he’d been standing there watching her and decided she cared even less.
“What are you talking about?” she asked tersely. She swung the cleaver down again. The noise the blow made echoed in her chest.
Exercising a measure of caution, Ike moved into the room slowly. His kitchen help had long since fled the area, saying something about not wanting to be in the same room with “that crazy woman.” That was when Ike had decided to do a little investigating on his own.
He nodded toward the pot. “I just thought, the way you’re slamming them around on the cutting board, they might have done something to offend you and you’re putting them in their place.”
She wasn’t in the mood for his charm. “I’m just cutting the meat,” she said between clenched teeth.
“If those spareribs were human, I’d say you were declaring war on them. Or someone.” He was standing in front of her now, trying to read her expression. Something was definitely troubling her. “Care to talk about it?”
She didn’t even look up. Her eyes were on the cleaver as she worked. “No.”
He was tempted to catch her hand midswing, but since he was partial to both his arms remaining just where they were, he refrained. “Then there is something to talk about.”
Lily set her jaw hard as cleaver and board connected. “No.”
The hell there wasn’t. He hadn’t spent the last decade behind the bar, listening to men and the occasional member of the fairer sex, spill out their insides without becoming incredibly familiar with the signs.
“You know how a volcanic eruption comes about, darlin’?”
This time she did raise her eyes to him. “Don’t worry, you won’t get drenched in lava.”
Ike’s eyes met hers for a moment before she brought her head down again. “Wasn’t myself I was worrying about, darlin’.”
Blowing out a breath, she paused to push her hair off of her face, and looked at him accusingly. “Why would you worry about me?”
Ike felt he had a better question for her. “Why shouldn’t I?”
She hated when people turned questions around like that. “I’m not family.”
He laughed softly at her answer and she felt like a kindergartner who’d gotten her numbers confused.
“Darlin’, out here, we’re all family—like it or not. Come winter, until they get that transporter stuff from ‘Star Trek’ perfected, we’re all we have.”
About to ignore him and get back to what she was doing, his answer caught her by surprise. “You know about ‘Star Trek’?”
Ike smiled. Hades was struggling, but it was definitely coming along and had more than a good toe-hold in the twenty-first century. But a great many people still thought it was something out of the eighteen hundreds.
“This isn’t the end of the world, darlin’.” He leaned a hip against the table where she’d been cutting the meat.
“Though I admit that sometimes it feels that way.” He winked at her. “Could also feel like the beginning of the world. It’s all in the way you look at things.”
Straightening, he crossed to the stove and paused to dip just the tiniest tip of his forefinger into the sauce. He stuck it into his mouth.
“Mmm, good.” He nodded, well pleased, then brushed his hand off on the back of his jeans. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work. Make sure you take a few prisoners,” he nodded at the all-but-depleted bag of meat. “The boys out front are getting restless.”
With a short nod of her head, Lily got back to her work, saying nothing.
As she cut up the last rack of spareribs, she decided that as soon as she got the opportunity, she was going to call the airlines and change her ticket. There was no reason to remain out here for another week. If she wanted to be humiliated, she could always do it closer to home and with far less inconvenience.
Max debated letting the whole thing blow over. But Lily would be gone within a week and he didn’t want to end things on such a sour note.
Still, he wasn’t used to explaining himself. He was what he was and expected people to take him that way, expected them to know that when a bad light was cast on him, that was all it was, a bad light. That he had nothing to do with the shadowing.
Just as he’d had nothing to do with Vanessa showing up on his doorstep last night.
He’d come to the door when he’d heard someone knocking, preoccupied, wrestling with the completely unfamiliar feelings that were battering his soul, and pulled it open. He’d had absolutely no idea who could be at his door at that time of night and Vanessa was the last person he’d expected to find there.
She’d smiled up at him with that smile she’d been practicing, the one that peeled the socks off the younger men. The one that, had he not had the standards he did, might have peeled his socks off, as well.
“Hi,” she’d purred. “I thought you might want some company.”
It never ceased to amaze Max how some people couldn’t pick up on signals when he’d been working off signals for most of his life. Vanessa, for instance, was oblivious to the ones he’d tried subtly to give her.
Lily and the Lawman Page 14