Lance stood up and pushed the table away. He held out his hand as if he was asking her to dance. She placed her palm in his and he pulled her to her feet. Like hers, his hand was calloused and heavy with muscle. But he held hers as tenderly as if it was smooth, soft and delicate.
“I’m beginning to think the fellows in your hometown have worse vision than I do, and no common sense at all, at all.” His kiss was soft and easy.
Amber’s lips parted willingly beneath his. This time they weren’t wearing heavy parkas and when he pulled her against his chest, her breasts sank deliciously into the rock-hard wall of his pecs. His heart was beating so hard she could feel it. She leaned into his heat and returned the leisurely sweep of his tongue, darting up behind his top lip and flirting with the inside of his cheeks.
Lance groaned and heat rose off him in waves. But although his muscles hardened, he did not pull her any closer. He kept his embrace light as he nibbled his way along her jaw line to her earlobe. Lightening streaked straight to her clit and she squirmed against him wanting more.
Divorced or not, he sure felt like her man. She forced herself to remember he had been married. He let her go as soon as she pulled back. “What is it?” he whispered.
“Do you still love her?”
CHAPTER FORTY
Amber~
“Holly?” He sounded baffled. “Nope. Do you think I would be canoodling with you while I’m in love with another woman?”
She felt hope flicker. But he must have loved his wife once. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Whatever I felt for Holly ended a long time ago. Round about the time she started stepping out with Tommy Jack.”
“Oh.” She hesitated, then decided she had to know. “What about your family? How did they feel about your wife and your cousin getting married?”
He grimaced. “Why do you think I wound up here in Colorado?”
“Why you? You hadn’t done anything wrong?” It sounded desperately unfair to her.
He shook his head. “Maybe so. But all the same there was a heap of bad feelings, and folks taking sides without knowing the truth of the matter. Eventually, I had just had enough. I lit out and started over.”
Her heart twisted. “It can’t have been easy. Didn’t you mind having to leave your home?”
“By the time I left I was so tired of the fighting that I didn’t care if I never saw any of them again.”
“Even your parents?”
He looked even sadder. “Even them. Things are a bit better now. Last couple of years I’ve even gone home for the holidays. Everyone seems to have forgiven and forgotten.” He shrugged. “Mom and Dad are even fond of Holly and Tommy Jack’s boy.”
Fonder of his ex’s son than of their own? “Oh. How do you feel about them having a child?”
“Am I missing something here? I said I was divorced. Have been for years. Why is that such a big deal?” His voice stayed level but there was an edge to it.
She knew she was blushing. “We’re pretty old-fashioned back in French Town. Folks stay married for life. I don’t think I ever knew anyone divorced until I met Patrick’s father.”
“Must be nice.” He sounded even more bitter.
“It is. In my family, we take true love seriously.”
“And true love always ends in happily ever after?”
“Pretty much.” She sighed. “Unless someone dies.”
“Huh.”
“My true love died.” She so hadn’t meant to say that.
“Yeah. When was this?” Lance tipped up her face so his one good eye could stare into both of hers. His mouth was a severe line.
“Willie and I were high school sweethearts. We were going to get married when I graduated.” Her voice faded.
“And,” he prompted.
“Willie enlisted the week after his graduation. He was a Marine like you.”
“Hmm.”
“He never made it back from his first tour.” She couldn’t help the sob that emerged with the words. “He was just nineteen.”
Lance rocked her against his chest. “Hush,” he said as if she were a child. “Never mind.” He kissed the top of her head. His arms comforted her.
“I’m sorry.” She spoke into his shirt. “It’s just so sad. He never got to grow up.”
“And what about your feelings? Are you still carrying a torch for that boy?” His voice was a little rough.
She owed him the truth. “I don’t think so. It’s been five years. But I always thought he was my one and only.”
Lance stroked her from nape to waist and gave her another comforting hug. “Five years isn’t so long.”
“It feels like forever.”
“Hmm.”
“At first I felt cheated of our future. And then I was sad because I missed him.”
“And now?” His drawl was so soft she had to strain to hear.
“I don’t know. I still feel sorrow when I think of him, but it’s more muted. As though I have forgotten him,” she confessed.
“You’ll never do that. But time has a way of taking the edge off grief.” He gave her another squeeze.
“I feel like I have already forgotten Willie. Look at me kissing you.”
Lance went rigid. “You haven’t dated since you lost your high school sweetheart?”
“Nope.” She spoke to his shirt snaps.
“Hmm.” A long pause while he petted her back. “Maybe we both deserve a second chance at love.”
She tipped her head back. “Do you think you could love me?”
“As easy as falling off a log. What about you? I’m not the man I was, and I never will be again. And I’m years older than your Willie. Years older than you.” His voice was flat. He expected rejection.
Amber could feel her face heating. She suddenly felt shy, but she put some starch in her spine. A modern woman shouldn’t be a shrinking violet. And Lance didn’t deserve coyness. “I’d like to try.”
“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.” His drawl turned ‘thing’ into ‘thang’.
His happiness made her as swiftly joyful as she had been melancholy before.
“Shall we seal our deal with a kiss?” He bent his head and covered her mouth with his.
His taste was more familiar this time, but just as exciting. And as before lightning sparked between them. She wondered if he would think she was promising more than she intended, but his restraint was just as marked as before. It was her response that was different. She felt free to indulge her bear as she never had before. In fact, come to think, she seemed to have a whole new bear. A randy brazen wench of a bear.
Lance seemed to enjoy her hotly aroused bear for he clucked with masculine appreciation before angling his mouth so that their tongues could duel. Her world dwindled to the fiery union of their lips and tongues. Part of her was still concerned that he would think this was the prelude to bed, but the other larger part wanted to learn what pleased this man most.
She suckled his bottom lip and tugged it between her teeth for a playful nip. He growled and reciprocated, letting her feel the barest edge of his teeth as he pulled away to kiss her neck. He nibbled his way to her earlobe and engulfed it with his hot mouth.
He grazed the lobe with his teeth before blowing on it. Her clit began to pulse faster. He blew again, while his fingers teased the other lobe. Her whole body tightened with anticipation. She grabbed his arms and held on for dear life. He responded by tracing the rim of her ear with his tongue and then drying it with his breath. Her breath hitched and her stomach clenched.
The more aroused she became, the more subtle and teasing his kisses and caresses became. Not that he was unaffected by his play. His breath rocked his chest and his face was damp. He left her ear and laved the base of her throat, lapping at her skin while her breasts peaked and her pussy throbbed. She was on the brink when he set her six inches away.
“Wow!” His tone was heartfelt.
Amber heaved a long restless sigh of her own and opened
her eyes. Lance rested his hot face against her hair. “I’d better go home,” he panted.
She brushed his face with shaking fingers. Beneath her fingertips he stiffened. The skin of his jaw was closely shaven, but there were patches where it was rough and pitted. Scar tissue.
“Do you mind?” His voice was humble.
“Only that you were hurt.” She kissed him on the damaged skin, as tenderly as she knew how.
He relaxed fractionally. Again his mouth sought hers as if she were water in the desert. His hands became busy stroking and kneading her back. She had never thought of her back as an erogenous zone, but she felt like purring from the pleasure of his fondling. To her embarrassment she heard her own husky moans start up again. She almost begged him to stay.
But it was still too soon for her. “Morning stables will be here soon enough,” she said in a voice that trembled.
“Yeah.” He was perfectly still, cradling her close. Gradually his heart slowed. “I’d best be on my way.”
“Do you know how to use that thing?” he asked pointing to her rifle which was racked up over the front door.
“I got my first deer when I was ten – and every year since.”
“Good. Is it loaded?” He shrugged on his parka.
“Not much use if it’s unloaded,” she said dryly.
“Ever shot a man?”
She shook her head. “But I’ve taken out my share of watermelons.”
He ignored her attempt at humor. “It’s different than shooting to put meat on the table.” His voice was bleak. “But if you must pull the trigger, aim for the chest – it’s a good big target.”
She didn’t tell him that her cousin Joey Benoit had given her the same advice before she went off to the ‘wilds’ of Colorado. She nodded. “If someone breaks in, I’ll assume he means me harm. Shoot first, ask questions later.” She rattled off the rest of Joey’s advice.
“Maybe you should keep your piece beside the bed,” he suggested as he pulled his gloves out of his pockets.
“I have a revolver under the nightstand,” she confided. “Loaded. I plan to roll out of bed and fire at whatever I can see.” A snake would probably be on the floor anyway. And a bullet in the ankle would drop the biggest man.
He grinned. “Are you serious?”
She nodded. “Yup.”
“Good girl.” He gave her a quick, hard, possessive kiss and crammed his watch cap over his hair. “Lock up tight.” He opened her door.
“Good night.” She turned the dead bolt and threw the barrel bolt for good measure. She stood listening by the door. Lance’s footsteps started up after a beat or two and thumped down the three wooden steps. He began to whistle. Her ears caught the squeak of his boots on the snow as she turned off the porch light, and then silence.
Amber went to the window flipping off the light switch as she passed it. Lance’s straight back appeared and disappeared, meandering among the trees. What the heck was he up to? It looked like he was tracking something in the snow.
Should she bundle up and lend her skills? Probably not. Let the man have his pride. Any tracks would still be there in the morning. It was late and it was past time for a working woman to be in bed.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Lance~
The Colorado sky was spangled with stars and the moon rode high amongst them. Moonlight gleamed on the snow and turned the familiar landscape into a fairyland of glistening icicles and glittering branches. Even though he had left Amber to sleep alone and he ached with unfulfilled lust, Lance was filled with anticipation.
He hadn’t wanted to leave Amber, but it was clear his darling wasn’t sure of her feelings and equally clear that she didn’t share her body unless her feelings were engaged. Her skittishness was understandable given that she hadn’t had a lover in five years. If she and her Willie had ever gotten past the hand-holding stage. He would have to go slow.
But Amber’s passionate enjoyment of his kisses had been a balm to his ego. He didn’t think her eagerness was just because it had been a long time for her. She was turned on by ugly, one-eyed Lance Prescott. Go figure.
His injuries had probably only given Holly an excuse for the infidelity which had started before he came back from Iraq. He would never have believed Tommy Jack of all men would cuckold him. He and Tommy Jack had been inseparable from the cradle. No one in the family had believed it either. But it was true. Probably.
That was the trouble with depression. And what was Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder but an extreme form of depression? It skewed your whole perspective on everything. Made you assume the worst case scenario was correct. He knew he had been moody and withdrawn. Had he shown his violent grief and rage to Holly? He hoped not. But danged if he could remember anything but his fury.
He had been angry at her. At Tommy Jack. At the Iraqis. At himself. Mostly at himself. He had blamed himself for being alive, as if living through that explosion had not been a matter of sheer blind luck. Time had eased his anger. Shown him that although he had been point man, there was no way he could have kept his team from triggering that bomb. He still had his dreams. Still mourned Ferris and Ricardo. Probably always would. But he had made a new life for himself here in Colorado.
Was he cured? Of PTSD? Probably not. But here on the stud there were no triggers to send him diving for cover. The weather, the smell, the big clean sky, were all different from Iraq. Time had mellowed his anger. He had stabilized. That was the word. He felt stable.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Lance~
For the first time in seven years he allowed himself to wonder if his post-battle surliness was what had driven his wife into his best friend’s arms. Not that it mattered. Water under the bridge now. Tommy Jack and Holly had produced an heir to the Prescott Horse Farm.
Tommy Joe was growing up with his sisters’ kids. Just one of this generation’s gang of cousins. Tommy Jack’s son would be running in and out of Aunt Sally and Uncle Roper’s house just as Tommy Jack had done when they were boys. Just as if he was Lance and Holly’s boy. Mom and Dad had loved Holly like another daughter. Sarah Ann and Jo Jo had welcomed her as a sister. No surprise they had all stayed close.
He had married a sweet girl. The operative word being girl. Was it a big surprise that Holly hadn’t been able to cope when his entire character changed for the worse? Hard for civilians to deal with veterans. To grasp the ravages to the brain that modern weapons created. Major brain trauma at the instant of psychological and physical trauma automatically produced mental illness.
His parents, his brothers and sisters, his beloved grandfather, none of them had fully comprehended. But they had understood that Holly was frightened and unhappy. Naturally they blamed him. Could he be a big enough guy to forgive them for being human? After all, he had forgiven himself for allowing Ferris and Ricardo to die. Maybe he could be glad that Granddaddy Tommy Jeff had an heir to his empire.
Right about now, Granddaddy was probably making plans to dust off the tiny saddle he had used to teach two generations of Prescotts to ride. In due course, little Tommy Joe would please his great-grandfather by taking to riding like a duck to water. After all, horses were in the boy’s blood. Turning that idea over in his mind, Lance found it lacked the power to sting.
He began to whistle, imagining a future in which he danced the bedtime tango with the prettiest girl in Colorado. This gleeful noise astonished him. Been a long time since he had whistled for sheer joy. In fact his state of mind felt distinctly odd. Only distantly familiar. Well, dang. He had forgotten what happiness felt like. Tonight he was a happy man.
He was pretty much prancing when he spotted the ragged prints where huge paws had broken the crusty snow and scattered the softer interior with every step. After a time he decided he was tracking a bear. He was thankful for his shotgun as he cautiously followed to see where it had gone.
Everywhere and nowhere. The beast had looked under every tree, padded around Amber’s cabin, and gone down to the creek.
Was this the same half-grown animal he had seen frolicking the other day? That had gone up on Amber’s back porch?
The paw prints looked too big for that adolescent cub, but that could be an artifact of the condition of the snow. He had learned to track in Tennessee. But there was no comparison between a Colorado winter and the milder ones of his youth. He couldn’t be sure.
Just about the first thing his Daddy and Granddaddy had taught him was that tracks changed. Time, temperature, wind, all made a difference. Only way to be certain of what you were seeing was long experience. By the time he had joined the Marines, he had known the sign of every critter around Falkirk. He hadn’t been the tracker Daddy and Tommy Jeff were, but he had expected to be.
In dusty, gritty Iraq, where the constant wind carried fine sand to blur and erase details, he had learned to identify footprints and tire prints with high accuracy. In Iraq, knowing the difference between three-hour-old tracks and three-day-old tracks, was the difference between living and dying, which sharpened your wits considerably. But since he had come to Colorado he had done his hunting in the supermarket.
About all he could say about these particular tracks was that they might be bear, and they sure as heck hadn’t been there when he went to visit Amber. What was the animal after? If it was looking for food, it wasn’t doing it any way that made sense to a man. But at least it gave him an excuse to call his girl. For Amber had agreed to be his girl.
He was too old and too washed up to be courting a tender blossom like Miss Amber. It was taking advantage of her sweet, compassionate nature and her youth and inexperience. Hell, the kid had not had a boyfriend since she was a teenager. It was a sin to think of tying her down to a wreck like Lance Prescott. But he was tired of being noble. He was going to seize his chance and try to do his best to make her happy.
She answered on the first ring. She sounded happy too. “What were you looking for in the snow?” she asked. So she had been watching him. He felt a warm glow.
“I thought I saw bear tracks.”
“Oh. Again?” For a country girl, she sure sounded bewildered that the bear might have come back.
Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8) Page 12