by Juanita Kees
Heather frowned at her thoughts as she watched him move closer and tried to quell the swirl of excitement in her own belly as his gaze connected with hers. His eyes softened and she found herself smiling tentatively at him, the burn in her cheeks escalating.
Mrs Everett nudged her gently. ‘Oh my!’
‘Oh no, Mrs Everett, it’s nothing like that at all!’ Heather jumped in quickly before speculation turned to gossip.
‘You keep telling yourself that, love,’ said Bella with a knowing smile. ‘Ah, Travis, you got my message then?’
‘Not even Alzheimer’s could keep Harry from remembering a missive from you, Bella.’ He kissed her cheek, mock-groaned as she squeezed him into a tight hug and exhaled an exaggerated breath when she let go. ‘You’ve been practicing for the log throwing, haven’t you?’
‘You betcha! And the dummy spit.’ Bella patted his cheek.
‘I thought Miss Turner would have that one covered.’ Travis grinned as the retired principal tugged his ear.
‘You’re still as cheeky as ever, young man. When are you going to settle down with a good woman and give young Casey little cousins to play with?’
‘Ah, Miss Turner, I’m waiting for you to marry me.’ The twinkle in his eye was downright cheeky as he turned his attention to Heather and it whipped her already quivering insides to jelly. ‘G’day, Heather.’
‘Travis,’ she breathed over the pounding of her heart as he pressed his lips to her cheek. She closed her eyes to the whisper of his kiss, the touch of his hand to her waist, and listened to the noise in the room fade as his mouth lingered a little longer, his fingers pressed gently into her side.
Slowly he withdrew and her eyes fluttered open to meet his. Heather swallowed the rising emotion, refused to name it, and saw it reflected in his gaze. If they were alone, he might have kissed her lips and she might have kissed him back.
‘Oh my,’ whispered Mrs Everett again.
Bella cleared her throat. ‘Well … so …’
The world spun back into focus and the chattering of the volunteers filled the hall once more. Heather stepped back and let Travis’ hand fall from her waist. ‘Erm … if you’ll excuse me?’
‘Of course, love.’ Bella nodded, a smile stretching her generous mouth.
Heather willed her knees not to give out as she made her way to her office with the feel of Travis’ eyes on her back. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it, her head resting against the hundred-year-old wood.
Oh. Wow. She slid down to the floor and rested her head against her fists. Oh boy, was she ever in trouble. She’d gone and fallen in love, all the reasons her conscience gave her not to, ignored.
Before nightfall, the rumour mill would be buzzing with recollections of that moment outside from various viewpoints, and no doubt, each version would be embellished at will with no end to the storyteller’s imagination.
Then the story would reach the department head’s ears and she’d be pulled from the case due to conflict of interest, no matter how much she chose to deny it.
The Bannisters would have a field day with the ammunition against them and Travis would hate her forever if he lost Casey because of it.
Oh God. The pleasurable churn in her stomach turned sour and the magical feel of his lips against her skin faded. What a mess. All because she’d got her knickers in a twist over a man. A very sexy, very sweet, gorgeous, kind-hearted, built-for-loving man.
It was a peck on the cheek, that’s all. Please God let that be all the ladies had seen. Sadly, rumour mills never worked the way you wanted them to, and the ladies with their beautiful romantic hearts were likely already planning a wedding.
Heather eased her way back up onto her feet from her squat position and walked to her desk. Pulling out the chair, she sat and rubbed at the headache forming behind her brow.
If only she’d ignored the lure of the ladies, their need to stop and say hi, she’d be halfway through the bloody report and wouldn’t be sitting here all hot and bothered by a stupid damn peck on the cheek.
She turned to pull open the top drawer of her filing cabinet and picked out the manila folder containing the Bailey file. Spreading it open on the desk, she held up the copy of Casey’s birth certificate, her eyes drawn to the line where the name of her father was listed as ‘undeclared’.
Poor Tracy. The horrors the girl must have lived through if what Travis was saying was true. Not that she doubted it. Any hope that Zac Bannister wouldn’t eventually come forward to claim Casey as his could be forgotten. The man was horrible enough to force the issue and with the backing of Bannister money and his shady biker mates, he could easily make it stick, even if it wasn’t a possibility he was her father.
A simple blood test and all Travis’ nightmares would come true. And by behaving like a lovesick cow, mooning all over him, she might just as well have given them the stick to beat him with. Sweet Mother Mary.
A knock sounded against the heavy door and her heart skipped a beat. ‘Come in,’ she called.
Travis eased the door open, squeezed inside and closed it quietly behind him. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ She feigned interest in the folder but all she could smell was his woodsy cologne, hear the intake and expulsion of his breathing and God help her, she thought she could even hear the thundering of his heart.
His palms flattened on the top of her desk and he leaned closer. ‘That our file?’
Heather nodded, words fleeing as she felt the heat from his body roll over her.
‘You’re writing the report.’
His words were a statement that needed no confirmation and her heart grew heavy. How could she do this to Travis, even with his permission? How could she submit a report that would almost certainly always swing in the favour of the natural parents? She was no longer an unbiased party.
Tears stung her lids at the thought of Casey being ripped from his arms, from the only home she knew, from the memories of her mum, and thrown into a strange, loveless environment with a possibly murderous, dangerous man. One they couldn’t pin a crime on. Frustrated and angry at the system, she swiped a tear from her cheek.
‘Hey!’ He tipped her chin up with his finger. ‘What’s up?’
She shook her head and cursed her soft heart for the tears that always surfaced when she was angry.
Before she could stop him, he was around the desk hauling her out of her chair and up against his chest. She meant to push him away, but instead her hands fisted around his T-shirt as his strong arm hugged her closer. The warmth of his palm cupped her head and he pressed a kiss to her hair.
‘Oh, baby, you’re only doing your job. You have to. It will kill me slowly, but the truth needs to be out there and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure Zac Bannister doesn’t get custody. I have a whole town on my side.’
The pain in Heather’s chest grew as she listened to the steady thump of his heartbeat against her ear. ‘But what if they do take her away from you?’
Travis released her and cupped her face between his hands, forcing her to look up at him. ‘I’ll have to build a case strong enough for them not to. It’s time for me to get justice for Tracy. I’m not sure how, but I’m determined to prove he murdered her and why. The only way I can make it happen is for the world to know he had a motive.’
‘Travis, what if he turns on you? Then Casey has no one.’
‘I won’t let that happen. Save your tears. Don’t waste them on me.’ He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, catching the teardrops on his skin.
He smelled like earth and spice, heat and sin, and when his green gaze held hers, all she could feel was him, all that mattered was that he was there, holding her. And that made her so terribly selfish when there was so much at stake.
His warmth drew her in as his eyes seared her soul. She flattened her palms against his chest, feeling his heartbeat stutter under her hands. She heard the slight hitch of his breath before his head descended and his lips touched hers.
And in that brief sweep of his mouth, she felt every emotion trapped inside his heart and the complex workings of his mind. Frustration, pain, turmoil, attraction—all these and more vied for her attention as she reached for him.
Those beautiful big hands, callused from physical work, moved from her face, trailed down her shoulders and arms before his fingers spread out along her back and pressed her against him.
There was nothing to do but melt against him, her hands travelling up over his shoulders, reaching around his neck to lace her fingers through his thick, blond hair and bring him closer still.
He breathed her name against her mouth and Heather opened her lips to swallow his words, the taste of him heating her blood, sending delicious shivers through her.
His hands followed the trail down her spine as his tongue engaged hers in a dance that had her fingers curling around the hair that brushed his collar.
Zac, Casey, the office they stood in, all faded into the mist that cloaked her mind until all she could do was feel, smell and taste Travis.
One hand in her hair, the other on her bottom, Travis lifted her against the ridge of his jeans. Through the thin material of her skirt, she felt him hard and long against her. With a whimper, she pressed against him, the sweet ache at the junction of her thighs seeking his heat.
Travis moaned and increased the pressure of his kiss as if he couldn’t get far enough inside her mouth. She returned each stroke of his tongue feverishly as his hand found its way under her skirt to caress the sensitive skin on the underside of her thigh.
She shivered against him, reaching down between them to feel him, to run her palm up the length she now so badly wanted to feel inside her. His breath hissed out to mingle with hers, the taste of mint and coffee on his tongue.
Loosening the button on his jeans, her fingers played with the tab on his zipper, inching it down as their mouths danced and his hands roamed her body, touching, kneading, sending sparks through her bloodstream. Then her palm made contact with the ridge concealed by his boxer briefs, close but not close enough. She let it slide the length of him, her own body crying out to feel the hardness.
Travis leaned her back against the desk, pressing into her, his hand removing hers and the barrier between them. As she arched her back, he came with her to follow the line of her neck with his lips and kissed a path to the valley between her breasts.
Wanton and needy, all logical thought fleeing, she squirmed deliciously under the brush of his touch. Then his mouth was on hers again, stealing her breath and her soul. Her hands couldn’t work fast enough as she reached for the hem of his T-shirt.
Under her dress, his fingers skimmed the soft skin of her belly making the muscles clench with pleasure before travelling south where she wanted him most.
‘Sweet Jesus, Heather, stop me now,’ he said, lifting his head to look at her.
In his green eyes, alight with need, she saw the questions reflected there. Nothing in the world could make her say the words that would end this journey of sensations. She covered his hand with hers and guided it lower.
‘Don’t stop,’ Heather whispered. ‘Just this once, please.’
He lowered his head to her breasts and cushioned it there between them, his hand still moving under hers, seeking the heat between her legs. Shuddering against her, he found his target and his fingers began a slow dance.
Sensations like she’d never felt before swamped her as she writhed under him. He covered her mouth with his to muffle the noises coming from her lips. Behind her closed eyes, the world exploded. Her hands fisted in his hair as she devoured his talented mouth with hers. Her muscles clenched around his fingers as spasms of pleasure rattled her body until all that was left were the aftershocks.
Boneless, she floated back to the present. Gently, he lifted her from the desk and settled in the chair with her on his lap, his own unsatisfied need still apparent. Heather writhed against him.
‘For God sake, sit still,’ he groaned into her hair. ‘I don’t have protection on me.’
‘Oh, Travis, I’m so sorry.’
‘For what, sweetheart?’
‘For this. Oh my God, what have I done?’ Reality came crashing in chasing away the pleasure. ‘I’ve compromised our professional relationship, your custody case. I’ve broken every rule in the book.’ She buried her face in his neck, his scent filling her nose. Regret rolled over her in waves, making her stomach churn. ‘If they find out, they’ll pull me from your case.’
‘You didn’t do it alone. I was there all the way with you. This is between you and me, no one needs to know.’
‘It can’t happen again.’ Panic and guilt warred with self-disgust inside her. She should have said no. She should have stopped it before it started. His silence was all the agreement she needed. ‘You should go. The ladies will be wondering why you’re in here so long.’
Heather inched out of his lap and straightened the skirt of her dress, embarrassment making heat flare in her cheeks. She dragged her gaze away as he stood and fastened his jeans, clasped the desk behind her to stop herself from reaching for him again.
He tugged down the hem of his T-shirt over his zip, stepped closer and dropped a quick kiss to her lips. ‘Whatever happens, Heather, I have no regrets about what happened here today and when this nightmare is over, we’ll finish this.’ He dragged a thumb over her swollen lips then turned away towards the door.
Heather watched him move, the stiffness in his back as he walked and the taut pull of his jeans across his backside as he leaned across to open the door. Her body missed him already.
The door swung open and three ladies almost fell over at his feet. Oh Holy Mother Mary’s cats, had they heard what she and Travis had been doing? Her embarrassment level rose three-fold even as dread took hold of her stomach.
Travis nodded to the ladies, held his forefinger to his lips as though to shush them and winked. Then he was gone, leaving her with her hands to her flaming cheeks and speculation running high among the ladies.
Miss Turner, Mrs Everett and Bella watched her curiously, their eyes taking in Heather’s messed up hair, wrinkled dress and burning face. ‘Oh my!’ said Mrs Everett, a sigh escaping her lips.
Chapter 10
Travis cursed himself for the need to taste Heather’s lips again and the hormones that had made him take the plunge. He made it halfway to his ute before he realised he hadn’t got around to signing up for the wood chopping. He’d refused the rodeo and negotiated an alternative event. No way was he ready to get up on a bronc again, not even for the ladies of the CWA.
Damn it, now he’d have to go back and face the knowing glances of Bella, Mrs Everett and Miss Turner. He couldn’t say for certain that they’d all had their ears to the door when he’d opened it, but he knew he could rely on Bella to keep them quiet and not spread any gossip about it if they had. Surely they wouldn’t have heard much more than silence through the thick jarrah wood of the door anyhow.
He hadn’t lied when he’d told Heather he didn’t regret what had happened between them in the office, but what he did regret was the trouble it could cause for both of them.
The moment his lips touched Heather’s cheek, he’d known he was in trouble. Deep trouble. She was his case worker, damn it. And now that he’d confessed to Heather about what happened to Tracy, she knew all the sordid details.
It could work in his favour or it might not, and he wasn’t one to gamble with Casey’s future. Sooner or later the truth would come out, because every day Casey grew older and lost her baby face, the more she got a Bannister look about her.
He slapped his hat onto his head and cursed the day Zac Bannister was born. Turning on his heel, he headed back to the Town Hall. He pushed through the door and aimed for the line at the events registration table.
‘Fuck sakes,’ he muttered as his nemesis pushed his way to the front of the queue.
‘Where’s that bloody Bailey?’ Zac roared. ‘Too chicken shit to register? All
froth and no beer, ay?’
Travis gritted his teeth and ignored the itch in his fists.
‘Yep, saw him bail earlier. Ran like a girl with her pants down. Reckon he knows when he’s beaten.’ He signed the register with a flourish, the reflective strips on his dirty yellow work shirt flashing under the fluorescent lights. Imitating a rooster, he turned and crowed his way back up the line. ‘Oh, there he is! Showed up after all, did ya?’
‘Arsehole,’ muttered Travis, hatred for the man burning in his gut. He looked forward to the day karma bit him squarely in the arse.
‘What was that, chicken shit?’ Zac stopped next to him.
‘You heard me.’ Travis took his hat off and turned it through his hands.
Bannister looked around, pleased to see they had an audience as people turned their heads to see what the fuss was about. He took a step back and placed pudgy hands on his hips. ‘Smart words coming from a man whose sister banged like a dunny door in a hurricane.’
In the queue behind him, truckie Pat Doolan muttered aloud what Travis was thinking.
‘Fuckwit.’
Travis bit his lip and prayed for patience, but the insult to Tracy ripped open wounds that had barely had time to heal.
‘I’m going to pretend you never said that. Move on, Bannister. You’ve done what you came to do.’
‘Or what, you drongo? What if I don’t move on?’ He stepped into Travis’ space.
Travis felt his temper rising and tried hard to clamp it down. He couldn’t afford to rise to Bannister’s taunts, so he aimed for dismissal. He stepped forward as the queue moved, putting space between them.
‘You think you’re better than anyone else in Wongan Creek. Bloody Baileys are no better than cashed up bogans whose women squeal like bush pigs when their legs are open.’
Anger, blood red and hot, bubbled up like a volcano inside him. Travis straightened his shoulders and stiffened his spine, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. The little bastard wouldn’t get away with that. Not when Tracy had screamed at the hands of this filthy mongrel. His own throat had ached for days after her death. All he needed was the evidence to prove it.