“But ma’am?”
“Deputy, just tell the sheriff what I say happened, will you? No real harm was done.”
“Ma’am, be careful, you hear?”
“She will be,” David said grimly. He propelled her out the door and toward his truck.
“Wait a minute, please,” Kate said. “I need to lock the Navigator.”
“The hell with it. If they steal it, they steal it. Get in the truck.”
He spun out of the parking lot.
“Now I know where Jason gets his driving skills,” Kate said.
“This isn’t funny. I’m sending you home to Atlanta on the first plane out of Jackson.”
“No.”
“Kate...”
“No.”
“You know damn well who did this, don’t you?” David snapped. “Why didn’t you tell the deputy?”
Kate sat silent.
“Damnation, Kate. It was Big Bill Talley, wasn’t it?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Who else would it be? You said the man wasn’t young. That means it’s not one of the Athena High football squad looking for a hoo-rah.”
“He was very drunk.”
David turned to her. “You do know. First, Mrs. Talley smacks you, then Big Bill assaults you in the parking lot. The Talleys are the ones who belong in jail, not Jason.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not about to put them there. Talk about garnering sympathy for the other side!” Kate heard David’s growl. “He probably never did anything like that in his life—most people haven’t. He’s much more scared than I am right now. He probably sat around in his dealership this afternoon, got roaring drunk, maybe even heard that Coral Anne came to see me this afternoon...”
“What?”
“She did. And the way gossip flows in this town, I don’t doubt someone saw her cut out of the parking lot and told him. So he got drunk and came over to intimidate me. Sounded like a good idea at the time.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“No, you won’t. First, because if he’d wanted to do any damage he would have, and second, Coral Anne says her daddy doesn’t believe in physical violence.”
“And you believed her?”
“I do. Momma’s the dangerous one in that menage, as I have reason to remember.”
“Do you usually have to put up with getting slapped in the face and mugged in parking lots in your job?” he asked.
“Not usually, but I have been threatened more than once.”
“And you’re all right with that?” He took his eyes off the wheel to glance at her.
“Of course I’m not all right with that! But no place is safe these days, and when I used to do criminal cases, I took precautions.”
“Which I deprived you of.”
“No. Lord, David! The minute we get to your house I have to call Arnold in Jackson. He needs to know about this. I suspect Big Bill shot his wad this evening, but if not, Arnold could be in danger. I’m going to tell him to stay in Jackson tonight. He can drive back to Athena after sunrise tomorrow.”
“Good idea.” David turned into the long gravel driveway leading to his house. “I wasn’t certain you’d come tonight,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t I? I have to eat.” Her voice sounded more confident than she felt. She had had some doubts about this evening.
“You need to take your own advice.”
“Which is?”
“Spend the night with me and go back to the motel after sunrise.”
Kate felt her heart rate increase. “Not a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea.” He pulled in front of his house and turned off the ignition, then swiveled with his left arm along the steering wheel and his right hand on her thigh. “Think of me as your friendly neighborhood rottweiler.”
Rottweilers did not have deep blue eyes and crinkly smiles. She opened the car door and slid out quickly. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
He was supposed to be the one doing the hankering. She remembered Arnold’s snide remark about her rampant hormones and remembered just how long it had been since anyone—much less David Canfield—had made love to her. Her hormone scale had every right to be off the top of the chart at this point. Not a good sign if she expected to keep her head.
She heard his car door slam and felt him behind her. He pressed his palm against her waist. She could have drawn the outline of David’s hand on her skin from the heat it generated in her.
“Come on. Let me feed you. I won’t press you, Kate, if you won’t fight me.”
“My adrenaline bottomed out about thirty minutes ago. There’s no fight left in me. I’d take it kindly if you didn’t push me right now. I might dissolve in tears, and then where would we be?”
“Better off than we are at the moment, at least from my point of view, that is, if you let me comfort you.”
“Well, don’t. I need some space. And some food.” Remarkably, he took her at her word, and twenty minutes later they sat across a small round table in his dining area, sipped an excellent Chardonnay and dug into shrimp étouffée and an artichoke salad. A fire crackled and popped in the big fireplace. The only other light came from candles on the table. Kate knew she was being set up. She simply wasn’t certain how she felt about it. One part of her wanted to let the evening unfold David’s way, making love, the other part warned her what a disaster that would be. She took refuge in chat. And knew David wasn’t fooled.
“I had forgotten what a great cook you are,” Kate said. “Must be why I married you.”
“Must be.” He grinned. “Since you and my momma can burn water.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve improved,” Kate said haughtily. “I can heat up takeout in the microwave with the best of ’em.”
“Alec didn’t expect home-cooked meals?”
“He already had a good caterer. Alec expected a law partner and a hostess.”
“And a trophy?” David asked, then shut his eyes.
“Sorry, that was a nasty thing to say.”
“It’s at least partially true,” Kate said. “Except that I’m no long-legged beauty queen, and he’d been divorced for years when we started dating. He wanted company and a colleague.”
“Don’t sell your legs short. What did you want?”
“I’ve had my share of anger this evening, David. You’re not going to infuriate me with psychobabble. No, I did not seek out and marry a father figure—or at least, not principally a father figure. Frankly, I wanted to be the one loved for a change.”
“And that means?”
She shrugged and took a sip of wine before she answered. “You know the old French saying—in love there is one who loves and one who lets himself be loved.”
He set his glass down carefully. “And you thought I was the one who let himself be loved.”
“Well, weren’t you? All that adoration came so naturally to you. Lord knows I did my share of adoring.”
“What you adored was some abstract idea of me.” He picked up his fork and dug it savagely into a shrimp, but did not raise it to his mouth.
“An abstract you carefully constructed for public view—and I was just another member of the public so far as you were concerned. You never gave me a chance to know the real you—at least that’s what you’re saying now.”
He laid his fork down and expelled a deep breath. “I learned early that no woman loves a man who fails. My momma taught me that. When Daddy got laid off, she tried very hard to be supportive, but she nearly tore him limb from limb from disappointment before he got another job. I think if he’d stayed out of work much longer, they’d have wound up in the divorce courts.”
“Not every woman reacts that way.”
“Most women do, no matter how hard they try not to.”
“Don’t compare me to your mother. She never thought I was good enough for you.”
David laughed. “At least you two had the same view of my life. You should have heard her when I told her
I was leaving New York for Mississippi.”
“But with Melba? Surely she approved of that,” Kate said dryly.
David reached across the table to take her hand. She tensed, but did not remove it from his grasp. “She really liked you, Kate.”
Now Kate did remove her hand. “Your mother? Get real.”
“She did. But your education and your background threatened her. And then when you threw me out...you have to remember that my mother always thought I was perfect.”
“Most mothers do think their sons are perfect.”
“Mine has mellowed a great deal since Daddy retired. She’s softened.” He shrugged. “But she still can’t cook.” “But I’ll bet she’s still a cleaning fool, isn’t she?”
He laughed, but then he sobered. “We can’t seem to get past who we were and what we did, can we? Will we ever be able to?”
“Not completely.” She shoved her chair back from the table and stood. “Suddenly I’ve lost my appetite. You better drive me back to the motel.”
He stood as well. “No way.”
“David...”
“Look, you want to sleep in the guest room, then do it. You can lock the door, put a chair under the doorknob. I don’t want you in that motel alone tonight, particularly now that Arnold’s going to stay in Jackson.”
“I’m too tired to argue with you. I feel as though I’ve been running for twenty years.”
He came up behind her and began to massage the back of her neck. “You feel as though you’ve got iron bars running across your shoulders,” he said softly.
SHE HELD HERSELF taut for a moment, then he felt her relax a bit under the pressure of his fingers.
“You remember when I used to do this every night?” he whispered. Her ear was delectably close to his lips. He fought the urge to take the lobe between his teeth. He knew that used to drive her crazy, but it was too soon. He had to go very slowly and carefully if he didn’t want her to spring away from him again the way she had before. He knew darned well she was feeling vulnerable after what had nearly happened in the parking lot. A gentleman would not take advantage of that vulnerability.
He was through playing gentleman.
“I looked forward to it all day at work,” she said softly. Then made a long drawn-out “um” sound. He smiled. He knew that sound. He was getting to her. Good.
His fingers stroked up the back of her neck. She bent her head with a sigh.
“I looked forward to other things,” he whispered.
“Those, too.” She chuckled. A low, sexy chuckle. He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck.
“We were good together, Kate.”
“Yes.”
“We can be again.”
Her lowered head swung left and right in denial. “We’re different people. Our lives have gone in different directions.”
“Our lives may be different, but our bodies aren’t.” This time he did run his lips gently over her earlobe, then took it in his teeth and worried it softly.
She shivered against him.
“Being this close to you still sets me on fire.” He slid his hands around her midriff and brushed his lips against the soft down at the nape of her neck. She gave a soft moan and let her head fall back against his shoulder..
“We can’t do this,” she whispered.
“We can. We should.” His hands slid up her chest to cup her breasts so that his fingertips just grazed her nipples. They felt like pebbles, hard, erect, swollen under her bra.
She caught her breath as he caressed her, rolling the pads of his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. She didn’t fight him, didn’t protest, didn’t move away. She felt so right leaning against him this way. Her head fit perfectly into the curve of his throat, her back arched slightly so that her bottom pressed against his groin.
“Katie, my Katie,” he said softly. He stroked down over her belly and her thighs, then moved his hand to the inside of her thighs, caressing her through the soft wool of her slacks as though he could feel the tender flesh under his fingertips.
He prayed for the moment when she’d commit to him once more. He longed simply to let go, to lay her down and make love to her without conscious thought, letting pure sensation drive him. He fought to stay in control because he wanted this night to be perfect for her.
She’d always been perfect for him From that first night when she’d come to him frightened and unsure, then wildly ardent, he’d only known true joy in her arms, buried in her body, touching her, her scent in his nostrils, her skin against his. He groaned softly.
Then without a word or a sound, in one smooth motion she lifted her arms to encircle his head, and twisted in his arms so that she faced him. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted. She was breathing as hard as he was. His heart lifted.
He sought her mouth, felt her tongue reach for his, tease, move over his lips and dart into his mouth. His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom against him. She began to move her hips slowly, sensually, then she stopped.
She broke the kiss to stare up at him with dreamy eyes. “This is crazy,” she whispered. He smiled down at her.
“It’s right,” he whispered as his mouth sought hers once more. “We’re right.” His fingers worked under her sweater and unfastened her bra.
She ran her hand down the front of his chinos. He caught his breath at her touch. He was more than ready, but he knew from experience she had a long way to go to catch up. He would bring her along every step of the way and relish every moment. His fingers inched around the waistband of her slacks. “Where do these damn things open?” he gasped.
She smiled without breaking the kiss. “In back,” she said against his mouth, and guided his hand to the button at the top of her waistband.
“You could help.”
“My hands are otherwise occupied.”
He caught his breath. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” he said hoarsely.
He felt his belt come out of the buckle, heard the slight pop as button parted from buttonhole.
“Hey,” he said, and picked her up. “If we don’t find a flat place before these pants wind up around my ankles, we’re going to break both our necks.”
She squeaked, kicked off her shoes, wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She bit his ear and began to nibble the edges like a hungry bunny. The feeling that shot through him was in inverse proportion to the softness of her touch. He felt as though someone had hooked up his extremities to electrodes and was cranking up the amperage second by second.
He turned with her locked around him and began to walk toward the stairs with his hands supporting her bottom and hers entwined around his neck.
As he reached the hearth rug, she whispered seductively, “This is flat.”
“So it is,” he said, and set her down. She slid down his body to the floor. He shoved off his sneakers, stripped off his socks and yanked his sweater over his head.
She wriggled out of her sweater and tossed it behind her, then reached for her bra straps.
“My job,” he said. He slipped them off her shoulders, then ran his fingers gently under the bra to pull it away from her breasts. Her skin shone rose gold in the firelight, her nipples as rich as ripe peaches. He bent his head to encircle her nipple with his tongue and was rewarded with a long indrawn breath.
She tangled her fingers in his hair.
After a moment he raised his head, and his fingers found the zipper at the back of her slacks. He slid them down her legs and tossed them across the room. She wore black lace bikinis that barely covered the soft brown triangle at the apex of her thighs.
“I’m ahead,” she said, groping for the zipper of his jeans. “You better catch up.”
“That’s the least of our problems,” he said, and stripped.
She reached her arms up to him. “Now,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” he answered. “Not yet.” He hooked his finger in the center of the waistband of her panties. As he
inched them down, his finger slipped into the crease between her thighs.
“Oh,” she said, arching her back. As he tossed the panties behind him, her knees came up and her eyes closed. She encircled him and began to stroke him.
He kissed her breasts, her belly, ran his tongue around the edge of her navel. She moaned and opened her legs to his questing tongue.
“Every atom, every molecule, my Katie,” he whispered as he bent his head.
KATE FELT TWENTY YEARS of separation slip away. It was as though she’d grown a thick reptilian skin the day he left, and now it was dissolving. The nerve endings of this new skin were raw and exposed to his lips, his fingers, his tongue, his body. She couldn’t protect herself from sensation, from the aching in her loins. Her breasts felt as though they’d swollen two sizes in two minutes.
She’d almost forgotten how beautiful his body was, the soft whorls of brown hair on his chest, the line of down that descended across his navel to his abdomen and below. As she caressed him, she gasped at the size of him. How could she have forgotten how big he was in every way, from shoulders to hands to the erection that she knew would fill her to breaking.
And he would break her, she knew. She couldn’t control him or push him or fake him out. Not that she wanted to. He remembered how long it took her to be as ready as he was. He’d always been able to read her body, gauge her responses. She gasped.
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. She dug her fingers into his shoulders. He’d learned a few things. His pace increased and she let herself go, feel as though every atom of her being was centered beneath his lips. She screamed as the spasms began.
A moment later he thrust into her, and she broke again immediately. She bucked against him wildly as her nails dug into his bottom as if she could force him even deeper into her. She lost conscious thought. She was all feeling and color—a kaleidoscope of sensation that drowned her in reds and purples.
She felt him tighten in her arms, and his body spasm inside her. As he sank against her, she wrapped her legs around his, wishing she could hold him inside her forever, but she knew she couldn’t. When he finally rolled away, he pulled her with him so that she lay against his chest.
Fathers and Sons (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 20