The Fires of Paradise

by Brenda Joyce

  She glanced at the door, then back at the mirror. She removed all of her clothing. She had never really bothered to look at herself before, but now she stared at her naked body: at her full breasts, one of them sporting a purple bruise from Carmen, and at her small waist; at her slim, curving hips and her long, long legs. At her womanhood. She touched one of her breasts and was rewarded with the hardening of her nipple. She blushed at her shameful behavior and dropped her hand.

  She washed herself by hand and sponge as she did every night and every morning. The water was cool and pleasant on her skin, making it tingle sensually. Tonight her sponge bath took twice as long as usual, tonight her hand moved very slowly over her body. Tonight her every nerve ending was overly sensitized. She told herself that it was the heat.

  Again, she looked at the door.

  Standing naked in the middle of the room, her gaze rivetted there, listening, she lifted the mass of hair from her neck, seeking cooler air against her skin. Then, with a sigh, she dropped it and moved to the bed. She knew that tonight she would never be able to sleep. She sat on the thin, lumpy mattress, her back against the wall, and stared at the door.

  It opened. She had known it would.

  Shoz appeared, framed in the timbered doorway. Lucy sat up straighter. He kicked the door closed with his bare foot, never taking his gaze from her, and dropped the bolt. Lucy gripped the edge of the metal bed.

  “This time,” he said, “we’re going to do it right.”

  Lucy tried to reply, but couldn’t.

  “Lucy?” His glance returned to hers, only to be drawn again in a rapid perusal down her body. “If this isn’t an invitation, you’d damn well better say so, and fast.”

  Lucy opened her mouth. Only air came out. With a shaking hand he had unzipped his jeans, and his penis sprang out, hugely erect. He was shoving the pants down his hard, compact hips, stumbling over them. When he stood again, he was completely naked, lean and hard and sleekly bronze, powerfully male.

  He strode to her. Tiny warning bells were sounding. Lucy Bragg, you are going to get into trouble and you know it!

  “Well?” he asked, his hands on her shoulders, forcing her down onto her back. “Last chance.”

  Lucy gulped. He was straddling her, a knee on each side of her hips, and his hands, large and rough and callused, pinned her shoulders to the bed. She looked at his mouth, parted slightly, and her gaze swept relentlessly down his sculpted body to rest with fascination upon his thick, stiff manhood.

  Shoz cursed. “Saints be damned,” he said, and he kissed her.

  Knowing him, she hadn’t expected a tender kiss, and she didn’t get one. Starved, he crushed her mouth with his, forced her lips open, and mated fiercely with her tongue. Lucy found the curls at the back of his nape and gripped them hard.

  He released her shoulders to crush her breasts, to mold them. He shoved one hard forearm under her, lifting her, and found a distended nipple with his mouth. He began sucking fiercely.

  Lucy whimpered and strained. Her hands traveled over his body with frenzy. She stroked his hip, his waist. She rubbed his nipples, pinched them. His teeth grated hers in response. She gasped, her nails raking down his side. Shoz lifted his face from her breast and found her lips, brutally forcing them apart.

  She gripped his penis, silky smooth, so very hot, wet. Her fingers played him. He gasped against her mouth, arching into her hand. Then he grabbed both of her wrists with one hand, forcing her arms over her head, quick as a wink. He held her immobile, a prisoner to his superior strength. She felt him touch her wet, slick recesses, and she shuddered convulsively.

  “Like that, Lucy?”

  “Yes.”

  He palmed her entirely. She throbbed heavily against his hand. Abruptly he kneed her thighs farther apart and thrust in.

  It seemed like this was what Lucy had been waiting for, for so very long. He released her wrists so she could hold him, clutch him, sobbing into his neck. He moved fiercely, fast, pounding her, rocking her backward until her head knocked into the wall. She didn’t care, didn’t even notice. She was shattering into thousands of fiery pieces, and her cries echoed into the night.

  “Lucy!” Heaving himself into her one last time, he began spasming heavily inside her. Lucy could feel every contraction.

  They lay soaked and panting. Shoz slid off her, still holding her, one hand flopping across her belly. Lucy opened her eyes to look at him. She was smiling.

  He smiled, too. “Like Sunday bronc-busting, huh?”

  “I guess.”

  His smile faded, but his gaze was direct and searching. “I’m sorry. I meant to go slow. Things got out of hand.”

  “I didn’t want it slow.” She blushed at what she had said.

  His grin reappeared. So did tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He was so very handsome. “No, you didn’t, did you?”

  His gaze moved from her face to her breasts. He swept his hand over the bruised one, gently caressing her skin. “What happened?”

  It wasn’t so easy to answer. Lucy watched his palm brushing her nipple. It tightened into a hard, elongated nub. “I got into a fight with Carmen.”

  Shoz’s hand stopped and he stared. “You and Carmen fought?”

  Lucy thought she detected both amazement and concern in his tone. “Yes.”

  His expression grew grim. “And she did this?”

  “It doesn’t really hurt. It felt good to hit her.”

  “You hit her?”

  Lucy nodded.

  He suddenly smiled. “I hope it was a good one.”

  “It was—right across the face.”

  His eyes were wide. Then they narrowed. “Then she did this?”

  “I didn’t expect it.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t.” He cupped her breast and held it, almost protectively, possessively. “You ever fistfight before?”

  “Never!”

  “I didn’t think so. Let me tell you something, Lucy, and don’t forget it. This isn’t Fifth Avenue. If you get in the gutter and fight, then you fight to win. And in the gutter there are no rules.”

  Lucy nodded, wide-eyed.

  “If you ever come up against Carmen again, you fight to win. That means anything goes.”

  Their glances held. His gaze dropped to his hand as it moved lazily over her breast. “Does it hurt?” His tone was low.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, lowering his head. His kissed the contours of the bruise. Lucy’s head fell back and she sighed.

  “Am I hurting you?” His thumb toyed with her nipple while his mouth brushed her skin.

  “N-no.” Breathless.

  His tongue traced the path his mouth had taken, only to detour around her nipple. “Feel better?”

  “Yesss.”

  He drew her slowly into his mouth. “This time it will be slow and easy,” he promised.

  But it wasn’t. The fires within both of them burned too brightly.

  Lucy realized she had fallen asleep. She opened her eyes to find Shoz lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand, his other palm on the mattress, his fingertips just touching her arm. He was watching her.

  Now, passion momentarily spent, Lucy felt awkward. She smiled slightly, uncertainly. He didn’t smile back, but his gaze roamed her face intently.

  For lack of a better topic, she said, “Did I sleep for long?”

  “Maybe a half an hour.”

  Lucy rolled onto her side, facing him. His glance moved to her breasts and then right down to her toes before returning to her eyes. Lucy blushed, embarrassed at being stared at while she slept naked, and knowing she should be scandalized for her lack of modesty—and morals. But she wasn’t. In fact, she was just as curious, and her glance wandered down his body, noting every detail with great interest.

  She wondered what would happen now.

  Would he just get up and go, back to his own bed, back to the one he shared with Carmen?

/>   “What is it? Why are you frowning?”

  Lucy looked at him.

  “More regrets?” His tone changed, became mocking. Instantly she shook her head. “No. No regrets.”

  His mouth was tight. He reached out to finger a curl. “Good.”

  “Shoz? Do you love her?”

  He didn’t have to ask who she was referring to, and he didn’t hesitate, not for a second. “No.”

  “You must have loved her once.”

  “I never loved her. I’m not that kind of man.”

  Lucy wanted to ask him exactly what that meant, but was afraid of his answer. “But you love Roberto.”

  He smiled. “Yes. I love Roberto.”

  Lucy leaned back on the pillow. He made a face and cupped her chin. His mouth was very close. “When you start thinking too hard, I can feel it. Now what? Feel free.”

  She smiled, but it faded. “About what happened. In Paradise. At the ranch.”

  He made a sound and rolled onto his back, staring up at the beamed ceiling.

  She sat up so she could see his face. “What did happen?”

  “I didn’t steal that damn horse.”

  “I want to believe you. Tell me what happened.”

  He shot upright, and the look he gave her was scathing. “Now you want to believe me? Why? Because I’m a good fuck?”

  There was so much bitterness in his tone that Lucy hurt for him. She touched his arm; he drew away. “No!” she protested.

  “Then why?”

  “Because—because I know you better now. Because I see the kind of father you are, a wonderful father, and Roberto isn’t even your natural son. Because I don’t think you did it, but I need to hear about it from you.”

  He had flushed at her compliment about his fatherhood. He looked out the window. Outside, the night was like a black wall, thick and impenetrable.

  “I hated the party and I wanted to have a smoke in peace and quiet,” he said. “And I was waiting for you.” He looked at her.

  She colored a little.

  “When I went into the bam, the old groom was already dead and the horse was already tacked. The groom was the inside man, Lucy, and at the last minute the thieves killed him. Probably out of greed—why split their prize three ways? And probably because he was too old to keep up with them. Or maybe they just didn’t give a damn; who knows? That’s what happened.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lucy cried, genuinely anguished. “I thought… I thought … I never thought it could have been that groom! And he was new, just some down-and-out drifter that Grandpa hired before you came. Oh God! What did I do!”

  “Sure you didn’t want to get back at me, just a little?” His tone was biting.

  She shook her head earnestly. “No. Not even a little. I was so upset thinking it was you!”

  He softened. “Now I believe you.”

  She wanted to ask him many more questions, especially about his conviction in New York. But she didn’t dare. She sensed she had pressed far enough for tonight. Besides, his soft tone had affected her, and so did the lazy gleam coming into his eyes. And then she was undone. He pulled her into his embrace, his lips almost but not quite touching hers.

  “Want to try and get it right one more time?”

  Lucy nodded weakly. But they just couldn’t seem to “get it right”.

  32

  Shoz was never one to sleep late, and that day was no exception even though he hadn’t slept more than a few hours the night before. He slipped into his own room, leaving Lucy soundly asleep with a small smile on her lips. Fortunately, Carmen wasn’t within.

  He felt a bit guilty and shoved it aside. What was done was done, and he owed Carmen very little, if anything. Besides, he could tell that she hadn’t bothered to return last night, and had slept somewhere else—probably with someone else, as well. He grabbed a towel and headed outside for an early morning swim.

  He liked being up at this hour when the rest of the valley slept. The sun would be a pale sand-colored ball if he could see it, which, because of the height of the valley’s rim, he couldn’t. This was the one time of day when the valley was actually cool and pleasant and the few creatures who inhabited it were visible. Across the creek an antelope grazed. A pair of jackrabbits leapt out of his path. Lizards scrambled for cover before the shadow of his bare feet. Other than the few animals, there was no one and nothing to disturb him, except his thoughts.

  He didn’t want to think about last night, but when he did, he was physically jolted from head to toe. He had a damn warm feeling inside, and it had been many years since sleeping with a woman had left him warm instead of cold. The sex had been as good as it could be, he suspected, between a man and woman, but what he kept remembering was other things, like that absurd compliment she’d paid him. Even now, buck-ass naked and submerging himself completely in the tepid water of the creek, he felt ridiculously pleased. He was a good father, wasn’t he? He had a helluva lot of shortcomings, but that wasn’t one of them.

  He wished Roberto were his son.

  He wished Lucy were the boy’s mother.

  Stunned, he came up sputtering, almost choking. He wasn’t just obsessed—he was losing his mind!

  Still, as he walked back to the house, there was no denying that he felt good, realty good, almost like a schoolboy in love. More insanity, but the sky had never seemed bluer or the day brighter.

  Carmen was waiting for him when he returned.

  She was furious. “You were with her!”

  Shoz rubbed his hair with the towel, then tossed it aside. “What of it?”

  “What about me!”

  He pulled on a soft, worn white cotton shirt. “I guess you had a good time last night, too.”

  She moved forward to slap him, but he caught her wrist. Annoyance, not anger, was evident in his expression. “Don’t start.”

  Carmen yanked free. “I want her out of here.”

  Shoz sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, watching her. Carmen advanced. “I want her out of here! You said she’s dangerous to us! Get rid of her!”

  “I will,” Shoz said slowly. “In a few weeks.”

  “In a few weeks! Get rid of her now!”

  He didn’t like explaining himself to her, and normally, he wouldn’t. But because he had wronged her, he supposed, he did. “I have to go to Matamoros in a few days to sell the guns. When I get back, I’ll free her.”

  “Take her with you! Free her there!”

  “No.” It was final and they both knew it.

  Carmen paced angrily. She turned. “And tonight? Will you go to her tonight?”

  “Will you go to Pedro?”

  She blanched. “Shoz, that’s crazy! Where—”

  “Carmen, don’t bother. Let’s stop the games. I know what you do when I’m not here, and I always have.”

  She stared.

  He stood and went to the bureau, picking up a razor strop.

  “You could at least pretend that you care!”

  He soaped his face. “Why? Nothing’s changed between you and me, and you know it, Carmen.”

  She balled her hands into fists. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Did I ask you to?”

  “I won’t stay here with her!”

  He dipped the blade into the basin of water and began scraping it over his skin. “I didn’t ask you to do that, either.”

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I’m going to stay with Pedro. When she’s gone and you get lonely, maybe, I’ll come back.”

  He laid down the strop to look at her in the mirror. “Roberto stays here.”

  She gave him a murderous look and stormed out.

  Lucy awoke at noon.

  She was scandalized. She bolted up, wondering why Carmen hadn’t come banging on her door as usual to rouse her before seven. Then remembrance flooded her, and she fell back against the pillows.

  She thought of Shoz and smiled dreamily. He was heav
en. Last night had been heaven. His touch was sinfully exquisite, and remembering, she felt a powerful surge of desire. Which was amazing, considering he had made love to her again at dawn, sliding into her while she was half-asleep, stroking her lazily, whispering for her to wake up. She had, and they had finally gotten it “right”.

  But it wasn’t just the lovemaking. It felt so good to have cleared the air about the horse theft, to have settled and shelved that particular source of tension. It felt good to have talked. She didn’t think they had ever had a conversation before without anger and tension.

  And he had been very upset about her fight with Carmen, and a little amazed, if she had read him right. Lucy sobered. She hoped she would never have to use his advice, but she would certainly never forget it.

  Thinking about Carmen cast a shadow upon the day. Now what would happen? Shoz couldn’t keep two women, could he? Much less in the same house. Her heart sank sickeningly. She knew in that precise moment that she was not a woman to share. She would have to fight to win. Carmen would have to go.

  She got up and hurriedly dressed. Normally she would have been up early enough to get fresh water and bathe, but not today. She thought about Linda toiling alone in the kitchen and was struck with guilt. She rushed into the hall.

  She saw no one until she got to the kitchen, where Linda was just pulling a roast hen from the oven to test it for done-ness. “Linda, I’m sorry!” Lucy cried, striding forward. “Here, let me do that! Why don’t you sit and cool off?”

  “Did you sleep well, niña?” Linda asked, not letting her take the pan from her as she placed it on the counter. She shook the drumstick and ambled back to the oven.

  Lucy reddened. “I am sorry …”

  Linda looked at her, and Lucy saw that she had been sincere, not suggestive. “Yes, I did.”

  “Good. Now, go and rest. It’s too hot today. There’s no work for you here.”

  “What?”

  “El padrone has ordered it.”

  Lucy stared. Shoz had freed her from her kitchen duties. He hadn’t just slept with her, he had been thoughtful enough to rid her of the hateful work here. Her first reaction was to be thoroughly pleased.