Under A Painted Moon

by Rayne Forrest

  "I've got about two and a half minutes before I must get up and step into that little room over there."

  "I'll give you thirty seconds."

  "Well, let go of the goods, babe. It has to go in there with me."

  She laughed and released him. He rolled from the bed and headed for the bathroom. That out of the way, he strolled back to the bed. It was difficult to walk nonchalantly with Courtney's gaze glued on his penis. He lay back down on the bed and stretched.

  He glanced over at her. She was looking at him expectantly. Her look said he'd better hurry up and take care of business. Her business. A wonderful jolt of lust shot through his belly and his erection returned in a rush.

  He rolled to his knees, straddling her thighs.

  "You want something, McWaters?” Her hands drifted to his hips. She licked her lips.

  "Not a thing.” He cupped her breasts, gently running his thumbs over her nipples. They puckered under his touch.

  She slipped a hand under his pillow and held up a foil pack. “I'll just hang on to this for a few minutes."

  He nodded. “Then what will you do with it?"

  "You'll see.” She batted her eyes at him. He laughed, edging toward her. She fell backward on the pillows.

  "I suppose you're going to put that on me using your tongue?"

  "Get a grip on yourself, McWaters. I'll do no such thing."

  He bent over her, nose-to-nose with her. “Good. That would scare me.” He lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips bowed under his, then opened.

  She ran her foot up the back of his thigh. Her hands caressed his stomach. He sucked in a lungful of air as she stroked him.

  She was beautiful in the early morning light, just as he always imagined. Her skin glowed against the paler bedding. Her nipples were light brown peaks on the ivory of her breasts. He ran his hands over the curve of her hips into the valley of her thighs. She ripped open the condom wrapper.

  He held his hand out for it. She grinned at him, shaking her head. His pulse spiked as she began slowly rolling the latex over him.

  "No foreplay?” he croaked then hastily cleared his throat. He didn't need foreplay first thing in the morning. If her idea of fun in the morning was a quick little tussle, then coffee, he really would be in heaven.

  "Takes too long sometimes, you know?” She curled her legs up, sliding them out from between his knees. She planted her feet against his shoulders.

  Oh, yeah. He knew.

  He would have said so if his brain could have handled speech.

  He pulled her down off the pillows to him, quickly breaching the first tantalizing inch of her heat. Her knees gripped his shoulders as he shifted, seeking. He slowly sank into her, filling her. Her body fisted around his. Prickling heat engulfed him. He withdrew then rocked into her, hard. Her hips lifted. Her fingers dug into his arms, demanding more. He gave it.

  She met him thrust for thrust, moaning each time he sank into her until she suddenly tensed beneath him. He fought back the tide that rose in him, calling to him to fall with her. He held it back until her body went limp and her fingers plucked at him, wanting him to stop. He couldn't.

  He shifted, letting her legs fall back down on the bed. She sighed, once, as his mouth claimed hers. He reached for the ecstasy, welcoming it as it seized him, lifting him into dark bliss, only to drop him, breathless, at her side.

  He lie next to her, panting, until she stirred, propping up on her elbow and smoothing a few wet curls from his forehead. He looked at her. He could look at her forever.

  She smiled at him and sunlight flooded the room.

  Chapter 15

  "You should go pour the coffee,” he finally said to her. Courtney hopped out of bed, twitching her bottom all the way to the door. She was glad to go get the coffee.

  The night was over and she needed to get her feet back under her. Maybe she'd be in the mood to cuddle in a little while, but not right now.

  "Go get that little table in the front room,” she ordered over her shoulder. He groaned and rolled to his feet.

  He was on the way back to the bedroom as she reached the top stair with a tray laden with coffee and doughnuts. She paused and let him go first. He placed the small occasional table on her side of the bed. The room was cooler. He'd opened more windows while she'd been in the kitchen.

  "What did we do before automatic coffee makers?” She set the tray down on the table.

  "I don't remember a time before automatic coffee makers,” he replied. She rolled her eyes at him.

  He grinned at her and stretched out on the bed, holding one hand out for his coffee.

  "I should dump this on you,” she groused.

  "Go ahead. Then you can lap it out of my belly button.” He leered at her as he took the mug. She fluffed her pillows and lay back on them, daintily sipping her brew.

  Maybe she'd do just that. Tomorrow morning. But for now, she ignored him. He touched her foot with his.

  She kept on ignoring him, knowing that she wasn't really deterring him. If he wanted to continue to tease her, not even a freight train would stop him.

  He chuckled softly, moving his foot away from hers. “So what time do you have to meet what's-her-name?"

  "Harris. Ms. Harris. I've got to be there at two. The appliances are supposed to arrive between ten and noon."

  "I can stick around for the delivery if you can't.” He leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed the newspaper. He pulled out the section that contained properties for rent and flipped it open.

  "No, I can be here, but thanks. Where would you like to have your studio?"

  He snorted. “Right where it is, but ... I want to stay near downtown. If I could find a suitable place in your block, that would be like hitting the Comstock Lode. You have parking."

  "Hey, I could charge you a parking fee.” She grinned at him and handed him a doughnut.

  "Hey, I'd pay it, too,” he replied smoothly. She poked his ribs again.

  The idea that had teased at her last night crystallized. She should suggest it. The worst he could say was ‘no'.

  She eyed his doughnut, sighing loudly. “Too bad there was only custard filled."

  He held it in front of her mouth so she could take a bite. She felt silly, but she bit off a piece.

  "You know, babe, the carriage house would make a great studio."

  She choked on the mouthful of doughnut. She took a swallow of her coffee to wash it down, then coughed. He patted her between the shoulder blades.

  "Okay. Bad idea. Forget I voiced the observation."

  "It's not that!” She turned to him. “I thought that last night. Honest. I just didn't think you'd like the idea of having me for a landlord."

  He stared at her, his expression a mix of disbelief—and growing anger.

  "What?"

  "Is that all you'd want to be? My landlord?” His words were clipped. She let her head fall back on the pillows. Now they'd fight, just like always.

  Not like always. She wouldn't allow it.

  She found his hand and slipped hers beneath it, linking their fingers. He squeezed gently.

  "Barry, please, let's not argue. Not this morning."

  He pulled his hand from hers so he could put his arm around her shoulders. Then gave her his other hand to hold. She relaxed against him.

  "Don't you think since we both had the same idea it's a good one?"

  He brushed a kiss to her hair.

  "It's a good idea. I'm really enamored of that little building."

  Great. It's my garage he loves.

  "I've noticed that, McWaters. Is that an artist word?"

  "Sure. Listen, babe, let's just table this for right now. We'll give it a couple of days—give us a couple of days—and we'll see where we are."

  Her heart plummeted to her stomach. A couple of days. In a couple of days, she'd either begin to suspect she was pregnant or she'd have proof she wasn't. She didn't want him if he only felt some sense of duty to stand by his actions.


  She pulled away from him and reached for her coffee again.

  "All right. We'll both think over the pros and cons. And maybe it's a moot point. Maybe you'll find something in the classifieds that is perfect."

  He stared at her for the longest time, his face unreadable, then he nodded.

  Wonderful. She'd fucked up again.

  * * * *

  An hour later, she kissed Barry good-bye when he dropped her off at her old house. She had just enough time to take a shower and get back to the Victorian before the appliances were delivered. Barry was going to his studio and work for most of the day.

  Part of her hated to see him drive away. They'd not made any plans for the evening. It made her uneasy.

  Stop, stop, stop. You're not sixteen any more.

  She turned on her computer and checked her messages before throwing a few things into boxes and carrying them out to her car. Then she had to dash to get showered and dressed. The lack of time to dally helped keep her mind off Barry. It was almost ten o'clock when she arrived back at the Victorian.

  With a delivery truck expected, she pulled her car into the yard, well out of the way. A splash of yellow caught her eye. She set a box on the back porch steps and crossed the courtyard to see what was blooming. It was an old-fashioned iris. She bent over and inhaled the sweet fragrance.

  The plant was thriving despite being choked by morning glory vines. Courtney began weeding around the iris until the surrounding area was clear. She'd be able to divide the rhizomes into at least four separate clumps. It was a survivor.

  So was she.

  She brushed off her hands and headed back to the house. The box on the steps contained odds and ends of kitchen things from the rancher. She longed to just throw all her kitchen utensils and things in boxes and bring them, but it just wasn't feasible. There was so much work to do before she could completely move in. She'd just have to settle for bringing over a little at a time as she needed them.

  The most prudent thing to do was to decide exactly what she wanted to do with the kitchen. That was her biggest obstacle to moving in. Totally gutting the kitchen and starting over would take months and she didn't want to wait months.

  Properties in her old neighborhood were snapped up quickly. If she put her rancher on the market now it would likely sell in a matter of days.

  Well, she didn't need to cook every night. She could make do with salads and sandwiches. If she craved a home-cooked meal badly enough, she could invite herself to dinner at her parent's home.

  And maybe even at Barry's. She hoped at Barry's.

  She took the empty box back to her car and carried in the next one. That one had a small compact disc player and several music discs in it. She carried them into the dining room and plugged the unit in. Piano music soon filled the house.

  She didn't even know for sure what sort of music Barry preferred. Tyler had given him a Celtic collection several years ago when her mail order club had double shipped. He'd seemed very pleased to accept the gift.

  Courtney knew nothing about Celtic music. Her tastes ran more to light jazz and classic rock. She plopped down on the back stairs and studied the kitchen. Only a total remodel would suit her and it was time she just accepted it and called a designer. She could afford it. And a good designer would find a way to recycle the cabinetry that was already here.

  The longest wall drew her attention. From the location of scrape marks on the paint, she suspected a table had been placed along that wall. She wondered if Barry would paint a mural for her. It might be asking a lot of him. Preparing for the next show at Hawke Gallery was going to keep him busy. But she could leave that wall plain for now, just in case.

  Thinking about Barry made her head hurt. Last night had been wonderful—fantastic, even, except for that one little faux pas. She laid her hands on her belly. Her inner sense whispered to her she need not worry. It saddened her, and that surprised her. Her biological clock didn't have many ticks left.

  The same inner sense that reassured her motherhood was not on the horizon was also hissing at her to tell Barry she'd like for him to move in with her as work on the Victorian progressed far enough for comfortable habitation. The house was certainly big enough for two people to live in and work together.

  There was space for both of them to have a proper office, something he didn't have at the house he currently rented. And the carriage house would make an excellent studio for him. She didn't really care if she parked her car in a garage. She rarely bothered to park in the one she had. In a year or so, if she wanted a garage, she could have one built.

  She dropped her face into her hands and rubbed her temples. Thinking about Barry McWaters definitely gave her a headache. It gave her a different ache a little lower down, too, one that was harder to ignore.

  It wasn't just that she'd not had sex in three, no, almost four years. It wasn't just that Barry was tall, handsome and sexy as all get out. He was a pain in the ass, too, which tended to balance out all that charm into something a girl could manage.

  No, what it was with Barry was deeper. It was awareness that he saw her differently from the rest of the world. It was the lure of being protected, sheltered. He'd never allow anyone to hurt her.

  And most of all, it was that Barry accepted her with all her needs and fears, all her stubbornness and all her determination and didn't expect her to change. But if she did, he'd accept that, too.

  It was downright scary to have someone see her that clearly and still want her.

  Wayne had acted like that, too, until they'd married. Then the little snide remarks had started. Over time, the small criticisms had become larger ones, chipping away at her self-confidence and leaving her wondering about her abilities to make good decisions.

  The sound of a large vehicle pulling up the driveway cut short her musings. She opened the door for the deliverymen then stood back out of their way. It didn't take them long to bring in the stove and refrigerator.

  What did take long was figuring out what to do with a stove that didn't fit into the space between the cabinets. She finally told them to just leave it where it was. She'd ask someone with a saw to cut the countertop and remove a base cabinet. It wouldn't matter for now.

  She climbed the back stairs all the way to the third floor. The door to the attic needed to have a little wood shaved off the bottom. She tugged on the knob until it finally opened then navigated the narrow treads. The attic was already unbearably hot. She'd known it would be.

  There were several small windows and she wanted to open a few of them for ventilation. It should create an updraft through the entire house.

  It did. The air started moving as soon as she swung the first window open. She took a moment to check out the view of the backyard. In her mind's eye, she could picture the courtyard as it would appear ringed with blooming flowers, new brick pavers and working fountain.

  None of it was going to be accomplished with her staring out the window. She needed to get serious and get started. She turned around. Something shiny lying in a shaft of sunlight caught her eye.

  What was a beer can doing in her attic? She recognized the packaging. It was relatively new. Despite the heat, she shivered.

  The house had been empty for a long time. It was possible that vagrants, or teenagers, had been in the house. She carried the can down to the kitchen and tossed it in the waste can. She stared at it, cold fear coursing through her.

  A few drops of liquid trickled out of the can.

  Someone had been in the house, very recently.

  She grabbed her cell phone and called a locksmith.

  Chapter 16

  Barry put the finishing touches on the mountains behind Elizabethtowne. It was a good job, if he did say so himself. The canvases matched his vision of the green, brown and gray Allegheny Mountains in the spring.

  Sometimes the canvases didn't match his mind's eye. Sometimes they morphed into something different, and usually better, but these seven canvases matched his memory
.

  The next element that he'd add to each canvas would be the gardens. Each painting had one feature that made it the odd one out from the other six and add to the overall charm of the series. On the one of The Maples, Tyler Morgan's home place, it would be the large lawn with a stream and yellow and purple water iris.

  It was almost two o'clock when he started to clean up. It would take about an hour for him to finish up in the studio. Courtney's client, Ms. Harris, should be gone by the time he got to Desert Moon. He hoped Courtney didn't go ballistic when he arrived unannounced, but he really needed to sit her down and talk to her. He was certain she had a few misconceptions running around in that overactive brain of hers.

  Conception. That was probably one of her misconceptions. The more he thought about it, the more the idea of having a little one gained appeal. Of course, he wasn't looking at it from the perspective of a forty year old lady.

  He tossed his work shirt over a chair and grabbed a cold soda from the fridge. His email yielded a few unwelcome ads for male enhancement drugs and a chatty little note from Tyler fishing for information on what was going on between him and Courtney.

  He grinned, typing four words, ‘curiosity killed the cat,’ in response and clicked the send button. Courtney probably had a similar email from Tyler.

  What was going on between him and Courtney was too personal to share just yet. He had concerns, but the worry was mostly drowned out by the low hum of semi-arousal that had kept him pumped with energy all day.

  If anyone asked him today, he'd have to say it was true that he thought about sex every six seconds. Sex with Courtney. A few times, the urges had been strong enough he'd thought about sex with himself. And definitely about the sex last night.

  The sex last night had been more than he'd ever imagined. The sounds she'd made as he took her were imbedded in his memory. The memory of the taste of her kept him adjusting himself in his jeans. It had not been a comfortable morning, but he'd not have traded one minute of it. And he wasn't buying relaxed fit jeans, either.

  The newspaper had listed one promising location for his studio. He reluctantly acknowledged to himself he should drive by the building on his way to Desert Moon. The carriage house was where he'd really like to set up shop, but he had to be realistic.