“Simmer down, Susan, I believe you.” Bonnie Gene smiled into her daughter’s face, lightly touching the hair that framed it. “As much as I want to see you married, I wouldn’t let you throw your life away on someone I didn’t think was good enough for you. What kind of a mother would that make me, if all I wanted was just to get you married off?” She looked at her daughter pointedly.
She was right, Susan thought. There were times that she forgot that, at bottom, her mother loved and cared about all of them. Worried about all of them. She’d lost sight of that amid all the less than veiled hints that came trippingly off Bonnie Gene’s tongue about time running out.
“Sorry,” Susan said quietly.
Bonnie Gene beamed, looking more like her older sister than her mother. “Apology accepted. Now,” she drew in closer, her eyes lively and hopeful, “how is it going between the two of you?”
Her mother deserved the truth, Susan thought. “I don’t know,” Susan confessed. “It’s a little early to tell. We’ve only been seeing each other for two weeks,” Susan pointed out, using the innocent phrase seeing each other as a euphemism for what was really going on: that they had been making pulse-racing, exquisite love for those two weeks.
In truth, she felt as if she was living in a dream. But dreams, Susan knew, had a terrible habit of ending, forcing the dreamer to wake up. She dreaded the thought of that coming to pass and could only hope that it wouldn’t happen too soon. She’d never felt like this before, as if she could just fly at will and touch the sky, gathering stars.
“Time isn’t a factor. I knew the first time your father kissed me,” Bonnie Gene told her with pride. She saw the skeptical expression that descended over the girl’s face. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking—your father is this overly round man with an unruly gray mane and a gravelly voice, but he didn’t always look like that.”
Bonnie Gene closed her eyes for a moment, remembering. The sigh that escaped was pregnant with memories.
“When I first met your father, he was beautiful. And what that man could do—” Bonnie Gene stopped abruptly, realizing who she was talking to. Clearing her throat, she waved her hand dismissively. “Well, never mind. The point is, it doesn’t take months to know if you want to spend the rest of your life with someone or not. It just takes a magic moment.”
That rang true. For her. For Duke, not so much. “Well, as far as I know, Duke hasn’t had a magic moment,” Susan told her.
Bonnie Gene heard what wasn’t being said. “But you have.” It wasn’t a question.
Susan didn’t want to go on record with that. “Mother, if I don’t get back to putting together a spectacular menu, Shirley and Bill Nelson are going to let her sister take over cooking for the party,” she protested. “And I don’t want that to happen.”
Bonnie Gene leaned even further over the desk and lightly kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Go, work. Make your father proud. I have what I wanted to know,” she assured Susan.
“Mother.” There was a note of pleading in Susan’s voice.
Bonnie Gene smiled. “My lips are sealed.”
Susan sincerely doubted that.
“Only if you get run over by a sewing machine between here and the kitchen,” Susan murmured. No one would have ever recruited Bonnie Gene to be a spy whose ability to keep secrets meant the difference between life and death in the free world.
Bonnie Gene stuck her head in one last time. “I heard that.”
“Good, you were supposed to.”
Susan attempted to get back to work. She really did need to finish this menu today. Something exciting that isn’t expensive—those had been Shirley Nelson’s instructions. So far, she really hadn’t come up with anything outstanding.
Her ability to concentrate was derailed the next moment as she heard her mother all but purr the words, “Oh, how nice to see you again,” to someone outside her door, then adding, “Yes, you’re in luck. She’s in her office.”
The next second, Susan heard a quick rap on her doorjamb. She didn’t have to ask who it was because he was there, filling up her doorway and her heart at the same time.
And looking far more appealingly rugged and handsome than any man had a legal right to be.
“Hi,” Duke said, his deep voice rumbling at her, creating tidal waves inside her stomach and an instant yearning within the rest of her.
“Hi,” Susan echoed back.
“I just ran into your mother,” Duke told her needlessly.
He was at a loss as to how to initiate a conversation with Susan, even at this point. Coming to see a woman was new for him. Usually, the women would come seeking him out, their agendas clearly mapped out in their eyes. Conversation had very little to do with it. This was virgin territory he was treading—appropriately enough, he added to himself as an afterthought.
The thought hit him again that he had been Susan’s first. He couldn’t really say that had ever mattered to him before, but this time around was different. He realized that he liked being her first.
Her only, at least for now.
Even though it brought with it a rather heavy sense of responsibility he’d never felt before. A heavy sense of responsibility not because of anything that Susan had said or demanded, but just because he felt it.
“Yes, I heard,” Susan answered.
The first few moments were still awkward between them every time they met and she couldn’t even explain why. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen each other for a while. Duke had come over just last night. As he had every other night since the first time they had made love. The time they spent pretending that they intended to go somewhere or do something had been growing progressively shorter. They were in each other’s arms, enjoying one another, enjoying lovemaking, faster with each day that passed by.
What pleased her almost as much was that he did talk to her once the lovemaking was over. Talked to her about little things, like what he’d done at the ranch that day, or his plans for a herd of his own. It meant the world to her.
Please don’t let it end yet. Not yet, she prayed, watching him walk into the room.
Out loud, she asked, “Um, can I get you anything?”
The hint of a wicked little smile touched the corners of his mouth, sending yet another ripple through her stomach.
“Not here,” he told her.
To anyone else, it might have sounded like an enigmatic response, but she knew exactly what he was saying to her. And it thrilled her. She had absolutely no idea where any of this was headed, or even if it was headed anywhere, but she knew she was determined to enjoy every moment of this relationship for as long as it lasted.
Susan was well aware that in comparison to the other women Duke had been with, she could be seen as naive and completely unworldly. Consequently, she wasn’t about to fool herself into thinking that she and Duke actually had some kind of a future together. Not in this world any way, she thought. He wasn’t the marrying kind. Everyone knew that.
She blushed a little at his response and heard Duke laugh as he crooked his finger beneath her chin and raised her head until her eyes met his.
Damn, but there was something about her, something that just kept on pulling him in, he thought, watching the pink hue on her cheeks begin to fade again. Each time he made love with her, he expected that was finally going to be that. That he’d reached the end of the line.
But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t had his fill of her, wasn’t growing tired of her. He wasn’t even aching for his freedom the way he normally did whenever something took up his time to this extent.
Maybe it was a bug going round, he reasoned, searching for something to blame, to explain away his odd behavior satisfactorily.
“I just came by to let you know that I’m going to be late coming by your place tonight,” he told her. “I’m in town to pick up some extra supplies and what I’m doing’s going to take more time than I thought.”
Susan nodded, thrilling to his slightest t
ouch. And to the promise of the evening that was yet to come. She didn’t care how late he came, as long as he came.
“I’ll keep a candle burning in the window for you,” she promised.
Why did the silly little things she said make him want to smile? And why did she seem to fill up so much of his thoughts, even when he should be thinking of something else?
If he didn’t watch out, he was going to get sloppy and careless. And then he’d have his father on his back, watching him like a hawk. That was all he needed. He could guarantee that a blow-up would follow.
“You do that,” he told Susan.
Still holding his finger beneath her chin, he bent his head and brushed his lips quickly over hers.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she absorbed the fleeting contact and reveled in it. She could feel her pulse accelerating.
When she opened her eyes, she found him looking at her. More than anything, she wished she could read his thoughts.
“Um, listen, since you’re here, can I get you something to eat?” she wanted to know. “It’s almost lunch time and I’m assuming that your father lets you have time off for good behavior.”
The smallest whisper of a smile played along Duke’s lips. She ached to kiss him again, but managed to restrain herself.
“Who says I have good behavior?” he asked. His voice sounded almost playful—for Duke. It sent more ripples through her, reinforcing the huge tidal wave that had washed over her when he’d kissed her.
“No, really,” she tried to sound more serious. “Aren’t you hungry?” She nodded in the general direction of the kitchen. “I could just whip up something quick for you—”
Yes, he was hungry he thought, but the consumption of food had nothing to do with it. He wanted her. A lot. Another first, he realized.
“If I stay to eat,” he told her, his eyes holding hers, “I might not leave anytime soon.”
They weren’t talking about food. Even she knew that. And the idea that she could actually entice someone like Duke Colton thrilled her beyond measure.
“Wouldn’t want to do that.”
Her words were agreeing with him, her tone was not. Her tone told him that she wanted nothing more than to have him stay and do all those wondrous things to her that he had introduced her to. Just the thought of it stirred his appetite.
He looked at her for a long moment, debating. The door had a lock on it.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he answered speculatively, allowing his voice to trail off.
But the thought of being interrupted by one of the staff, or either of her parents, tipped the scales toward behaving more sensibly. He told himself that passing up a chance to make love with her now meant that there was more to look forward to tonight.
Suppressing a sigh, Duke gathered himself together and crossed to the doorway. He nodded his head. “See you tonight.”
“Tonight,” she echoed to his retreating back.
Tonight.
The single world throbbed with promise. If she weren’t afraid of her mother passing by again and looking in, she would have hugged herself.
Chapter 14
The extra feed he’d come for all loaded up in his truck, Duke got behind the wheel, put his key into the ignition and turned it on.
Then he turned it off again.
He’d never been a man given to impulsive moves. He thought things through before he did them. But he was here, so he took advantage of time and opportunity. Taking the note that Susan had given him, he got out of the truck’s cab, secured the door and went to the short, squat building across the street.
Wes’s car was parked outside. That meant that Wes was most likely inside or close by. Duke walked into the sheriff’s office without bothering to knock. He was a man with a timetable.
“I know you’re busy with looking into Mark Walsh’s latest murder, but I really need you to look into this for me,” he declared, holding the crudely handwritten note out in front of him. “Susan got another one. Along with more dead flowers.”
About to leave to grab some lunch, Wes took a step backward in order to allow his older brother to come in. Taking the note that Duke held out to him, he glanced at it quickly. Same block letters, an equally childish threat on the sheet.
“You mean you want me to look into this in my spare time between midnight and 12:04 a.m.?” he asked wryly. He wasn’t a man who complained, but venting a little steam wasn’t entirely out of order. He’d been hunting for Walsh’s killer even before the autopsy had confirmed his identity—and getting nowhere. “I had no idea there were so many people who hated Mark Walsh.” Wes walked back to his desk and sat down, placing the note on top of the pile of papers that were there. “Right now, the only ones who I know aren’t suspects are Damien and me.”
Hooking his thumbs onto his belt, Duke continued to stand, his countenance all but shouting that he was a man with things to do, places to go. “That bad?”
“Pretty much. Hell, the spooked way Maisie’s been acting lately, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that she did the guy in herself.” Wes rocked back in his chair, glancing again at the note that Duke had brought in. He’d hoped that the previous notes and flowers had been a prank that had played itself out. Obviously not, he thought. “I’m starting to think that maybe getting elected sheriff was not the wisest career move I could have made.”
Duke had never seen the appeal of the position, but he’d backed Wes’s choice nonetheless. “Still better than ranching with the old man.”
“You do have a point.” Straightening up, Wes frowned as he perused the note more closely. “Now, remind me again what is it I’m looking for?” he asked, other than a little sleep, he added silently.
“Find out who sent the notes and the flowers,” Duke replied simply.
Wes raised a quizzical eyebrow. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”
Duke was about to say no, that it was all one and the same to him, but it was upsetting Susan, but that would have been a lie and Wes had a knack of seeing through lies.
Maybe he shouldn’t have come here, pushing the issue, Duke thought. He didn’t want Wes picking through his business. But then, this wasn’t about him, it was about Susan, about her safety. He was beginning to get worried that maybe whoever was sending these notes and the dead flowers wasn’t exactly up for the most sane person of the year award. If that person turned out to be dangerous as well…
He shrugged. “She’s afraid. I don’t like seeing women threatened.”
Wes looked at him knowingly. “You seeing Susan Kelley?” It wasn’t really so much a question as it was a statement seeking verification.
Duke managed to tamp down his startled surprise. “What makes you say that?” he asked in a toneless voice.
“Because I’m a brilliant detective, because I’ve got fantastic gut instincts—” and then he gave Duke the real reason “—and because Maisie complained to me that you’re going to ruin the family line by getting the Kelley girl pregnant.”
Damn it, he thought Maisie and he had settled this. Apparently he needed to have another talk with her, Duke thought, annoyed. Out loud, he confirmed Wes’s guess. “Yeah, maybe I’m seeing her.”
“Either you are, or you’re not,” Wes pointed out, looking at him, waiting for an answer.
“Okay, I am. For now,” he qualified, leaving himself a way out. “Now, are you going to look into this for her sometime before the turn of the next century?” he asked irritably. “Someone’s been leaving these on her doorstep the last couple of weeks, along with bunches of dead flowers,” he reiterated, in case Wes had forgotten.
“And you really don’t have any idea who’s been doing this?”
Duke looked down at his brother pointedly. “I wouldn’t be talking to you if I did.”
“Good point, although I’d rather not have one of my brothers turn vigilante on me. Especially not now when we’re finally getting Damien out.” He figured there was nothing wrong with issuing a v
eiled warning to his brother. If it didn’t come out in so many words, there was more of a chance of Duke complying with it.
A cynical smile touched the corners of Duke’s mouth. “When she first started getting them, Susan really thought that I was the one sending them.”
Wes surprised him by nodding. “I can see why she might.” Duke looked at him sharply. “You’re so damn closed-mouthed, nobody ever knows what’s going on in that head of yours. You’re like this big, black cloud on the horizon. Nobody can make an intelligent guess if it’s going to rain or just pass through. And you’re always frowning. Hell, when I was a kid, I thought that scowl of yours was set in stone.”
Duke blew out an impatient sigh. “I don’t have time for memory lane, Wes. Just take a few hours away from the Walsh thing and look into this for me, okay?” He couldn’t remember when he’d asked Wes for something, so he took it for granted that Wes’s response would be in the affirmative.
He wasn’t prepared for the slightly amused grin that curved his brother’s mouth.
“What?” Duke demanded.
“You and Susan Kelley, huh?”
Duke’s eyes narrowed to small, dark slits. “That is none of your business.”
Wes would have been lying if he hadn’t admitted that contradicting Duke stirred up more than a small amount of satisfaction. “Well, actually, with my being sheriff, it kinda is if for some reason the two of you being together made someone write these.” He nodded at the note on his desk for emphasis. “And if we’re talking personal—”
“We’re not,” Duke quickly bit off.
Wes ignored Duke’s disclaimer and continued with his thought. “I think it’s great that you’ve finally moved on and put that whole Charlene McWilliams thing behind you. Susan looks like a really great girl—and she’s just what you need.”
Duke was not about to admit anything, even if, somewhere in his soul, he secretly agreed with his brother’s pronouncement. That was his business, not anyone else’s. Just like he felt something lighting up inside of him every time he saw Susan was his business.
Colton by Marriage Page 14