People Will Talk

by Carol Rose

  Five minutes later, Bret turned off on a dirt road Nora didn't recognize. 'When they were well out of sight of the main highway, he turned into a drive that led to what looked like a log cabin.

  Nora looked over at him in surprise, her eyes feeling hot from the tears.

  "There's no way I'm taking you home to your mother like this," Bret declared as he switched off the headlights.

  "Like what?" she whispered. She felt like a baby.

  Opening the truck door, Bret ignored her question.

  "What is this place?" She slid under the steering wheel and got out, staring at the building while he shut the door.

  "My cabin. I built it myself. My living here instead of at the ranch house gives me and my parents some privacy. "

  "Oh." She followed him up the walk. ''I'm really okay now."

  "No, you're not." He opened the door and flipped on the lights. A leather couch and chairs sat on a woven rug of indeterminate color. Besides a small kitchenette in the corner, the only other feature of the room was a large screen television.

  "You want some coffee?" He shut the door behind them.

  "Thank you," she managed, his obvious concern bringing her close to tears again.

  Bret sat next to her on the couch. "Honey, I've never known a woman with more reason to cry. Quit trying to hold it in. I've got a perfectly good shoulder here. "

  ''I'm not crying," she snuffled.

  "Come over here...” Tossing his hat on a nearby chair, Bret reached out and took her in his arms.

  ''I'm not one of those women who cry all over the place," she protested, sinking against him despite her determination not to give in to her tears.

  “Just with me. Nowhere else. It's all right, honey," Bret whispered against her temple as he held her close.

  Hot tears trickled down to drip from her chin. Nora tried to stem the flow, her efforts nearly bringing on the hiccups. Finally, she let the sobs come, embarrassed but unable to stop.

  Bret held her, his body rocking ever so gently. He said nothing, didn't try to stop her or question her distress. Nora drew in a shuddering breath, the knot in her stomach loosening.

  "I never expected him to be so nasty," she said abruptly, grappling to understand Richard's assault. "I thought he might refuse to talk to me—if only to please his mother—but to...."

  "You should have let me beat the bejesus out of him," Bret said, his hand gentle as he brushed away a lingering tear.

  "That wouldn't have accomplished anything," she dismissed the idea. "And you might have gotten hurt."

  "Excuse me?" He sounded more amused than insulted.

  "I mean you might have hurt your hand or something when you hit him," Nora clarified, letting herself relax against him.

  "It would've been worth it." His arms tightened around her.

  Nora shook her head slowly, a sense of contentment starting to seep into her as she huddled in his arms. "This whole thing is so bizarre. I've been over it again and again, trying to figure out how I could have handled it differently. I had no idea that Richard's boss would behave like that."

  "What did he do, exactly?"

  She glanced up at Bret, realizing she'd never really talked to him about that pivotal night. "It was at Richard's New Year's Eve party. He gave one every year. I'd had the food catered but I was serving it myself."

  "You and Richard lived together?" Bret asked.

  "Yes," she said. "His boss, Mr. Benson, startled me in the kitchen that night. There were lots of people there from Richard's office, bigwigs above Benson."

  Nora leaned her head back against Bret's arm where it rested on the back of the couch. "Of course, everyone was drinking. But Benson seemed completely sober. He just walked up, started kissing me and put his hands on my..." Her voice trailed off and she struggled not to shudder as the memory of the moment returned with shattering clarity.

  "It's all right." Bret dropped a soft kiss on the top of her head.

  "I tried asking him to stop," she said, fighting the feeling of nausea that rose at the memory. "But he kept on saying I'd enjoy it, kept saying Richard wouldn't mind."

  Bret uttered a harsh expletive under his breath. "I was so busy fighting him off, I didn't realize how loud I'd gotten until someone pushed open the kitchen door and everyone saw us." She did shudder then. "Richard went white."

  "Probably from guilt," Bret said, his voice hard.

  Nora looked up at him in the soft lamplight. "He was shocked. He told me so later."

  "You don't think he had any idea that Benson had the hots for you?" Skepticism radiated from Bret.

  "Of course not." She stared at him in puzzlement. It didn't make any sense that Richard would know and not warn her. After all, it had been his career on the line.

  "Even if we give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he didn't knowingly let his boss put the moves on you, Richard still comes out looking like a heel," declared Bret.

  Nora didn't respond, startled at the thought. Had Richard known of Benson's intentions? It seemed so incomprehensible. And yet, Richard had an uncanny insight into the weaknesses of his opponents. Wouldn't that naturally extend to his superiors as well?

  The whole thing left her mind feeling muddled. "I should have handled it differently." she said with self-condemnation. "If I'd been more assertive, more determined, Mr. Benson would have gotten the message without everyone having to know."

  "You're nuts," Bret said.

  "I was so shocked I just started squawking."

  Bret shook her gently. "You've got to get the blame pointed in the right direction. No woman should have to fight off a man in her own kitchen."

  "But-"

  "Think," he recommended. "Did you deserve to be attacked?"

  "Of course not," she answered slowly.

  "Did you deserve the crap that Richard handed you tonight?"

  "No," Nora said definitely, fresh anger rising in her.

  "Then let's put the blame where it belongs. Richard's a creep and you should have let me wipe the floor with him."

  Nora shook her head. "I don't care about him. I just kept thinking about the riding school and how Mrs. Turner will never sell the land to me now."

  "You don't know that," he said, stroking his hand down her arm. "Quit worrying about tomorrow and let's enjoy tonight."

  His words hovered in the air, foreign and tempting at the same time. The shadowy cabin seemed warm and cozy as if it occupied a totally different world from the one they'd just left.

  "When we were in high school, I used to watch you," Bret said. "You were quiet, but so cool and confident."

  Nora's jaw dropped open. He'd watched her in high school?

  "You were dating Richard, but every now and then," Bret went on, his voice soft and low, "I'd catch your eye and I'd wonder.... "

  He bent to brush his lips against her cheek, a scatter of electricity along the point of contact jolting her.

  With his arm around her, his hard, lean body pressed to hers, uncivilized urges hummed through Nora's blood. She sat on the couch in the quiet little cabin, surrounded by a sensation of comfort she'd never known. Not comfort in a soft, mothery sense, but a completion, a connection like a lock and key.

  With Bret, she felt more of everything, as if the world suddenly shifted from gray monotone to Technicolor.

  Nora took in a deep, shaky breath. A white hot current seemed to run from his body to hers, replacing the fading anger at the humiliating scene she'd just endured.

  "You've got a heart as big as Texas," he murmured. "But you've got to trust it more. Playing safe—it's only gotten you trouble. Trust your instincts, honey. Do what you want."

  His words reverberated in her head. Do what she wanted?

  A dangerous idea. What she wanted was him. She wanted his kisses, the taste of him on her tongue. Even the thought of that morning on the porch left her awash in a heady excitement.

  She shouldn't have come here with him. The small space seemed too personal, so
masculine. Nora battled with herself.

  "What if I want...risky things?" she asked, her voice low.

  "What's the point of living if you never take a chance? Haven't you ever been impulsive?"

  A hundred sensual images spilled into her mind. He was everything she wanted.

  Her breath caught in her throat. All her fantasies held him at the core. In them, she was a free woman, her forbidden desires no longer restrained. She wanted to seduce him to a mindless, desperate state. The thought had haunted her for days.

  Nora went still when she realized she was actually considering it. Why not reach out to him? Why not finish the glorious episode they'd started on the porch that day?

  Her teeth settled into the inside of her lip. She must be insane to consider it. But why not, she argued with herself. One night of passion didn't have to mean commitment. Never again would she trust herself to a man implicitly, but did that mean never knowing the exquisite pleasure of Bret's touch?

  It would be a private moment between the two of them. And it didn't have to mean anything permanent. Bret wasn't the kind of man who wanted commitment.

  Nora's heart thundered in her chest. Her body felt ablaze already, leap-frogging over any lingering hesitancy.

  He reached up, brushing back a strand of hair from her cheek. "Don't you ever want to do something wild and crazy?"

  "Yes," she said shakily.

  "Something just for you," he said, his voice low as he held her in the circle of his arms. She tilted her head back.

  Quickly, she reached up for him, like a woman diving off a cliff. Her hand slid along the warmth of his neck, nestling there as she raised her mouth to his.

  He felt so good, tasted so much like a hot August night, that she found herself kissing him like she'd always wanted to.

  His mouth opened to her, meeting her with his own desire. Pressing closer, she deepened their kiss and felt the thunder of his heart revving like an engine.

  "Nora?" His breath was ragged when he lifted his head.

  She opened her eyes and met the question in his. Tumultuous emotion possessed her-need, connection, yearning. Please don't make me explain! Still, she supposed she had to say something. "I want you."

  Tilting back her head, she slowly drew him down to her with agonizing slowness.

  Bret held her in his arms, unable to resist her sweet, drugging kiss, but battling a conscience that nagged at him. What the heck was the woman doing kissing him like this?

  He kissed her back, hungrily, his mind racing even as his body demanded more. The effort to keep himself in check made his muscles burn with bunched tension. Nora moaned, the glitter of her eyes visible as she pulled back a fraction. She drew her hand down the front of his shirt, finding and opening three buttons before Bret captured her with his own hand.

  "Honey." His voice sounded strained to his own ears. "You've had a rough night. Maybe I'd better get you home." It was the noblest thing he'd ever said in his life.

  "Don't you want me?" she breathed, nipping at the corner of his mouth. "I want you."

  "Nora, for God's sake," Bret groaned. Every touch made him crazier. Just sitting beside her for the last half hour had been an act of sheer willpower.

  She turned to face him more fully. "You told me to act on my impulses, to do what I want to do."

  Jeez, he was an idiot. He'd encouraged her to act boldly and now his biggest fantasy had just become a nightmare. How could he make love to her when she'd regret it in the morning?

  Wreathing both arms around his neck, she nuzzled his shirt collar. "This is what I want. And this." She pressed herself against him, her breasts soft and enticing.

  He groaned again, bending swiftly to capture her mouth in a rough kiss, wrestling his own urges with limited success. This was the wild side of Nora, her hungry little mouth clinging to his as she pressed her body to him.

  "You'll wake up tomorrow and hate me." Go with it! His body demanded. "God knows I want you so bad I've been walking funny for six weeks. But don't go to bed with me to spite the town."

  "I could never hate you," she said, wriggling closer. "I've dreamed about making love with you. I haven't been able to sleep since the other day for thinking about the way you touched me."

  Bret stared down at her, his indecision swiftly fading.

  "Make love to me," she asked. "I know what I want."

  He moved then, bending his head to capture her mouth, hot and hungry. "No regrets," Bret commanded between kisses.

  "None." she promised breathlessly as she tore open the rest of his buttons and brushed her hands over his chest, cool and seductive.

  Fumbling to get closer, he hauled her onto his lap, his hand cupping the curve of her breast. She arched to him, her breath coming in little pants. He stroked her through the thin cotton of her shirt, teasing her nipple. Nora moaned, her head falling back over his arm.

  Once nestled on his lap, he held her closer still, his hand caressing her soft flesh as he sought her mouth. Need tore at him, fierce and hot, consuming any rational thought. She was here with him, wanting him, and he was swamped with an overwhelming drive to lose himself in her.

  He had to get a grip. At this rate, he'd rush her and end up embarrassing himself. Nora bent to press her face against his chest, where his shirt was still open from her earlier foray. "Damn," he muttered his arms tight around her.

  Bracing his legs, Bret surged off the couch, carrying her toward the bedroom with large strides. The door slammed back against the wall as he carried her into the dark, cool room. He tilted her onto the bed, straightening to rip off his shirt. She knelt on the bed, her flushed face visible in the light filtering in from the living room. With her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, she waited for him. He could see her trembling and recognized the desire in her eyes.

  He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, carrying her back against the flat surface of the bed.

  How long had he hungered for her? Ached for her as he tossed in this very bed? Ever since she'd come home, she'd lingered in his mind, driving away thoughts of other women.

  He joined her on the bed, kneeling beside her to cup her head in his hands and hold her still for his kiss. Long, slow kisses, one after another until he could feel the molten rush of his blood through his veins.

  Moist and tender, her lips were sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted. He held her, his hands in her hair, her fragrance surrounding him. Her face seemed a pale blur in the twilight that filled the room. The contours of her eyes, nose and cheekbones formed a hazy beauty that he knew would haunt him forever.

  Her hands rested on his arms, the slender fingers splayed on his bare flesh. He felt as if he were on fire and wondered that he didn't burn her where she touched him. A swift pulse fluttered in her throat where his thumb pressed. Bret bent to kiss her there, sliding his hands over her shoulders to find the row of small buttons on her shirt.

  An almost expectant silence filled the room, only broken by their shuddered breathing and the hush of fabric leaving skin. He tugged at her shirt, drawing it open to reveal her skin. In sunlight, she took his breath away, but in the scattered light of this sheltered room, he felt as if his heart had been pierced by her beauty.

  Taking advantage of his pause, Nora drew her hands across his shoulders, exploring his chest with eager fingers. She bent forward, pressing her lips against his bare skin, tasting him with quick flutters. Bret clutched the bed to keep from throwing her back and having his way with her.

  As she trailed kisses along his shoulder, he worked at unhooking her bra. His years of practice in the activity might have been more helpful had he been less distracted.

  As it was, he felt as unskilled as a sixteen-year-old boy heading for second base. Her hair floated forward, falling against his shoulder in a soft drift. He found himself overwhelmed with tenderness. He couldn't imagine a more precious moment. With Nora huddled in his arms, eagerly exploring his body, offering hers so enthusiastically, a sudden rush of emot
ion flooded him.

  Holding her close, a sensation flickered inside him that he couldn't identify. He wanted to love her, to keep her safe from Richard and the gossips. He wanted to see her fly. She deserved so much more.

  With her scent surrounding him, her eager hands caressing him, Bret hungered for all of Nora-her sweet welcoming body and her fierce, bright spirit, all wrapped around him.

  Nora felt her bra come free in his hands. She shivered partly with the coolness of the room and partly from anticipation. His hands were warm on her back, his calloused palms gliding over her as if she were the first woman he'd held.

  He bent to her breast, his mouth damp and hungry. A spasm of sheer pleasure shot through her and she clutched at him for support. Nora squirmed with each stroke of his tongue. Craving, hot and fierce, sprang every nerve to attention. His touch set off sparks.

  Bret straightened, leaving the bed to strip off his jeans. A shaft of light illuminated his nakedness, the lean line of his body, the muscled shape of his legs and buttocks. She itched to touch him everywhere, trace every enticing contour.

  Fumbling with the snap of her own jeans, she skimmed them off and waited, naked in the cool night air.

  He joined her on the bed, his body warm against hers, the thrust of his arousal smooth and hard against her leg.

  "You're so beautiful," he murmured, the stroke of his hand slow along the curve of her hip.

  Her wayward hands couldn't stop touching him, the powerful slope of his back, his tight behind and strong thighs. In places, he felt smooth and warm like a rock in the sun; in other places, rough with body hair.

  Touching Bret was like entering a foreign country where everything was new and magic.

  Touch melted into touch. Nora pressed against the length of him, hard against soft, marveling at the glorious differences. She moaned as he fondled her breasts, stroking and molding her flesh until a deep, aching longing settled low in her body.

  He leaned over to kiss her, deeply, hungrily, his hands stroking over her belly and thighs. Rising, he moved between her knees and paused, staring down at her. He trailed a hand down her inner thigh, his touch whisper soft, almost reverent.