Denim and Lace

by Rice, Patricia

  "Dammit, Sam, you shouldn't have said that," he muttered as she marched through the building and out into the street. "Now they're going to have to keep an eye on us."

  "Good. Maybe they'll try to disappear us as they did my father, and we'll find out where he is." She stalked down the walk without any idea of where she was going.

  "We don't have any evidence that they know anything about your father." Sloan grabbed her arm and held her pace to a stroll.

  She would have bruises where his fingers held her. She glared at the manacle of Sloan's hand, then up at his stubbornly set jaw. "They know him all right. I could see the guilt in their eyes. I have half a mind to go back there right now and listen through the walls."

  "You'd be looking for trouble then. Those men didn't get where they are by being polite."

  She scowled at him. "You should know."

  Sloan squeezed her elbow tighter and drew her to his side. "Much as I might have liked to, I didn't murder your father."

  She knew that. She wouldn't have done what she had with him if she thought that. What she was going to do again. She flushed and looked away as they approached the hotel.

  "That's better," Sloan grunted as they entered the building. "You keep thinking those kind of thoughts, and we'll get along just fine."

  "I've contemplated murdering you since I first rode into town, Sloan Talbott," she muttered beneath her breath as they crossed the lobby. "And that's all I'm contemplating now."

  He gave her a swift look that reminded her someone had been trying to murder him, but she dismissed the notion immediately. They'd caught that man.

  "You're a lousy liar, Miss Neely. You might want to murder me, but that isn't what you're contemplating now. You're wondering how long it will take me to get up under your skirts again."

  Sam turned to smack him, but he caught her wrist before she knocked them both down the stairs they climbed. They had almost reached the room, and her head spun giddily with the knowledge. It wasn't completely dark yet. They couldn't do that now. There were too many other things to do.

  "We need to ask questions at the livery," she reminded him. "And all the hotels."

  Sloan took the key from his pocket and unlocked the bedroom door. "There are dozens of liveries and hundreds of hotels. That's what I'm paying Hawkins to do." He pushed her through the open door.

  "It's not night! There are plenty of things we could do." She wheeled and tried to get past him.

  Sloan shut the door and locked it, dropping the key in his pocket. "There are plenty of things we can do, all right, and we can do them right here." He stripped off his coat and threw it across a chair, his gaze never leaving Sam.

  She was melting, and he wasn't even touching her. Why had she ever thought those eyes of his were icy? They were like white-hot coals right now. Her gaze dropped anxiously to his hands. He was unfastening his vest.

  "Sloan, you promised." She was startled that the words came out as just a whisper. She couldn't seem to manage any more as his vest joined his coat and she could see the hard planes of his chest outlined against his shirt.

  "I promised to help you find your father, and I am. I called in a lot of favors to get that meeting with the board today. I've got queries out all over town with men who are in a position to have met your father. I hired Hawk. There isn't anything else we can do but wait."

  His expression said there was something they very well could do while they waited. Samantha swallowed hard. It had been one thing to be overwhelmed by the moment back at the ocean, but it was quite another to discard her clothes cold-bloodedly as he did now. As curious as she might be about what he could do to her in that bed, she couldn't bring herself to assist in her own seduction.

  "It's almost dinnertime," she pointed out nervously. "You promised to take me to dinner."

  "I changed my mind." Sloan took the chair and began pulling off his shoes. "Do you need help with that gown?"

  "No. Yes. I . . ." She couldn't say it. He was across the room before she had to.

  She gasped as he swung her around and quickly unfastened the row of buttons at her back. The beautiful satin bow went tumbling next. When she didn't move swiftly enough, Sloan shoved the sleeves of her gown off her shoulders and down her arms and located the tapes that held her skirt and crinolines together. The whole concoction drifted to the floor, leaving her standing in nothing but drawers, chemise, and stockings. Having a man like Sloan want her this badly was riveting.

  Sloan stood behind her, but Sam knew he was looking at her. She could feel the heat of his gaze on the bare expanse of flesh revealed above the top of her chemise. He'd bought this damned revealing silk underwear for just that reason, she realized. She covered herself with her hands, but that was a mistake. His hands immediately followed, wrapping themselves around her fingers, pulling them apart. She could feel the brush of his knuckles against her breasts, and she shuddered.

  "This time will be much better, Samantha. When I enter you, you won't want me to stop."

  She hadn't wanted him to stop last time. She was shameless. She didn't want him to stop what he was doing right now. He had shoved her hands away and was massaging her breasts, lifting them, caressing them, making them swell and tingle and ache for a more intimate touch. When he finally untied the chemise ribbons and reached beneath the fabric to touch her, she nearly collapsed in his arms.

  "That's it, Samantha. Don't fight me. Just let it happen. It's a perfectly natural reaction between a man and a woman."

  His voice was soothing, but she scarcely heard the words. His fingers had found the bare crests of her breasts and played them shamelessly. She was a quivering mass of raw nerve endings, and she knew he hadn't even begun.

  He nibbled her ear. While one hand bared her breast and caressed it, his other hand slid downward, stroking her abdomen, reaching lower. When he finally touched her between her legs, she threw her head back and a low groan escaped her throat.

  "That's it, my love, just let it happen." Sloan bent his head and kissed her exposed throat, then lifted her with one arm around her waist.

  When his mouth closed around her nipple, Samantha gave a scream of pleasure.

  A moment later, she lay flat on her back across the bed, watching Sloan rip off his shirt.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Sloan had a beautiful chest, all angles and planes and rippling muscles beneath a skin of golden bronze. But Sam already knew that. She had bandaged that shoulder bearing the rough white scar. This was different though. She couldn't keep her gaze away from the silky pattern of dark hairs spreading from nipple to nipple and dipping lower.

  Her stomach clenched when she realized he unfastened the buttons to his trousers. She lay here sprawled across the bed, wearing nothing but her underwear, inviting what he was about to do now. And she wasn't doing a thing to stop it.

  This was Sloan Talbott, she reminded herself. This was the man who had driven her father out of town, who had made her wear dresses, who had cursed her and chased her and driven her mad with his demands.

  But still she lay there, watching. The last button came undone, and his trousers fell to the floor. Had she been drinking wine, she would think she was drunk. The languorous haze she was in registered nothing more than the beauty of the man standing naked before her and the ache in her insides where she wanted him to be.

  He lifted her as if she were dandelion fluff, pulling back the covers and laying her against the sheets. The sheets were cold, but once he came down beside her, she didn't notice. She was suddenly warm all over.

  He leaned over and kissed her. She closed her eyes, absorbing the myriad sensations his touch engendered. His lips were gentle, prying at hers until she gave him what he wanted. The invasion of his tongue was hot and sweet.

  The grasp of his hand around her breast was possessive, making her gasp with the sudden pressure of it.

  That was her last coherent thought. His kisses melted her inhibitions into nothingness. She scarcely recognized th
e moment when he removed her chemise, but she knew the precise moment when his mouth covered her nipple. She nearly wept from the pleasure of it and eagerly offered the other breast when he lifted his head.

  His kisses wandered, and her drawers disappeared. She still wore her stockings, but they offered no obstruction. His hands caressed her legs. His mouth laid claim to every inch of skin available. When he moved lower, she clutched his hair, certain she would burst from her skin at any moment. Undeterred, he bent to kiss her between her legs, and she was lost.

  She twisted and arched and called his name until he finally rose up to cover her. She didn't realize she had her eyes closed until he told her to open them. She looked up, startled, and found Sloan's angular jaw hovering just above her. She raised her eyes to his, found the smoldering desire there, and didn't look for anything else.

  Her gaze dropped to the breadth of his shoulders. He was braced above her. She could feel him pressing between her legs. She didn't know when she had opened them as she had, but he was on the threshold, and she was asking him in. She shuddered and looked lower. From this angle, he looked like the stallion she had imagined.

  "Look at me, Samantha. I want you to know it's me and not someone you fancy." His voice was harsh, and she forced her gaze back to his face.

  She'd never fancied anyone but Sloan Talbott. She couldn't disguise that fact any more than he could disguise his arousal. From the satisfied look on his face, she knew he could see that. But then his mouth found hers again, his hands made demands she had only recently learned, and her body arched upward into his.

  She cried out when he came into her, and her cry only caused him to push deeper. He filled her, stretched her beyond all the limits of her comprehension, and then he began to move inside her until she danced to his rhythm.

  It was like nothing she could ever dream of. He took possession of her so that she wasn't herself anymore. She was somebody else, somebody lovely and desirable, and Sloan Talbott wanted her. He was part of her. He was inside her and part of her and there was something .. . something just beyond her reach.

  And then she exploded with it, burst like a giant balloon and collapsed in waves of splendor. She heard Sloan groan, felt his spasming jerk within her, and wouldn't let go. Not this time. She wanted all of him.

  She felt the hot flood of his seed with satisfaction. So much for the master of conception and control. Drowsily, she slid into a half sleep, knowing only that Sloan was still beside her, inside her, and all around her. The weight of him made her whole.

  They woke some while later and made more gentle love. This time he used some contraption to cover himself before he entered her so he didn't have to pull out. It didn't satisfy either of them, and they forgot to use it the next time. It didn't matter. They'd already made the error once. Another time couldn't hurt.

  Somewhere along the way they sent for dinner to be brought up. They sat wrapped in sheets and nothing else and drank thirstily, but the chicken went cold before they got around to finishing it.

  It was like a compulsion they couldn't control. Sam had only to look at Sloan, and he knew what she was thinking. She could touch the stubble on his jaw, and he would kiss her. She could rub her lips gently against the roundness of his shoulder, and he would have her flat on her back within minutes. She didn't object. She did it on purpose. She wanted as much of him as she was allowed in these forty-eight hours.

  And she took him until she was sore and aching and not a particle on her hadn't been rubbed raw by his beard. She felt like liquid, lying on the sheets beside him, feeling the even breathing of his sleep. He was a big man, and he filled even this wide bed. She didn't mind. His leg covered hers, and his hand entwined in her hair, holding her against his chest. For the first time in her life, she felt sheltered.

  If she slept, she wouldn't have to remember that this was Sloan Talbott and this was all there would ever be between them. So she slept.

  When they woke, it was nearly noon. The room smelled of sex and lavender and the wine they'd left the prior night. Sloan propped himself on one arm, lifting his big body over her, and Sam felt small and feminine beside him. She felt even more so when he cupped her breast.

  "We're supposed to meet Hawk. I don't suppose you'd be interested in putting him off for a day or two?"

  The sheets had slid away. She could see his magnificent male body already awakening, getting ready to perform again. She shook her head in disbelief. She hadn't thought it possible, but he made it so. She met his eyes and was fascinated by the odd assortment of emotions flitting across them. She hadn't thought Sloan had any feelings at all, but she thought she could see regret and desire and something else, something a little less harsh than before.

  "I might be interested, but I'm not certain I'm capable," she murmured apologetically. Once they got up from here, they might never get another chance. She owed him one more night, she knew, but experience had taught her that good things seldom came around twice.

  A purely masculine look of satisfaction settled on Sloan's features. He caressed her cheek with his finger. "I'm sorry. I forgot you were new to this. You're very good, you know." He pressed a kiss to her lips before she could reply.

  "Maybe just once more," she murmured when he lifted his head. She wrapped her arms around his neck and arched upward, feeling feminine satisfaction when he instantly glanced down to her breasts.

  "I'm going to regret this, but for your own good, we're getting up. I don't want you too sore for tonight." He rolled away and climbed out of bed.

  Samantha felt voluptuous and satiated lying there naked across rumpled sheets, knowing he was looking at her. Just his gaze made her tingle. She squirmed her hips a little and watched the heat fire Sloan's eyes. She liked having this power over him. She could come to like this game very much.

  But it was one where anticipation was almost as much pleasure as the culmination, so she sat up with her back to him and pulled a sheet around her.

  "We could come back here as soon as we're done talking to Hawk," he said.

  He sounded like Jack when he wanted to wheedle something out of her. She would be triumphant if it weren't that she wanted it as much as he did.

  Sam's stomach sank to her toes as she had a sudden thought, and she glanced warily over her shoulder. What if this feeling didn't go away? What would they do when they got back to the mountain?

  She didn't dare think about it. Surely they ought to be thoroughly sick and tired of each other before another night was out. How much of this could one person take, anyway? Animals only came into heat a couple of times a year. That must be what had happened to her. She had just gone without a man too long and had a lot of catching up to do. It would be over shortly in the natural order of things.

  She went behind the dressing screen and scrubbed all over. Sloan threw her garments over the screen as he found them. They felt as alien to her now as her naked skin had yesterday. She ought to feel shame, but she felt only eagerness for what the day would bring.

  Sloan actually gave her a genuine smile when she came out from behind the screen. Her hand instantly went to check her hair, but he caught her hand and ran his fingers through the thick curls.

  "If all redheaded women are as passionate as you are, I think I'll restrict myself to redheads from now on."

  She wanted to kick him. Instead, she smacked his hand away and marched to the door. "Save it, Talbott. I'm ready to eat."

  He caught her by the bow at her back, untied it, and began tying it properly. "I'll not quarrel if you want to be the only redhead for me, but it would be a trifle difficult to keep it from the rest of the town."

  "Dream on, Talbott. We have a bargain, that's all. We'll go out and complete your end of it today, and tonight we'll finish it."

  His hand caressed the back of her neck as she threw open the door. "It won't be quite that easy," he murmured tauntingly near her ear as they moved out into the hall.

  Sam ignored him. It would be that easy. She'd lived al
l her life without Sloan Talbott, and she could live without him again. She'd just been curious, that was all. Well, her curiosity was satisfied. She could go back up the mountain right now if she didn't owe him one more night.

  They ate lunch with the man Sloan called Hawk. He never introduced him by any other name. Samantha thought the tracker rather looked like a hawk. He had a hatchet nose and high, sharp cheekbones that spoke of some Indian heritage. She supposed there could be some Spanish there, too. He was dark from the sun, but from nature also, she suspected.

  He watched her warily, through eyes so dark as to be almost black. He seemed content to talk only to Sloan, but Samantha wasn't used to being ignored. When she asked a question and he answered it by speaking to Sloan, she rapped her spoon against his glass. Startled, he looked back to her.

  "You can't find my father if you can't acknowledge his daughter exists. A blind man is useless."

  Hawk regarded her without expression. "A blind man can see what a sighted one cannot, but I am not blind. If you are much like your father, I will pick him out of a crowd."

  "She's too damned much like her father, but you'd better keep your eyes out for him and not for Samantha. I'll take you down to the livery and show you her horse. Her father has one just like it. It attracts a lot of attention." Sloan shoved his chair back and stood up, holding out his hand to Sam. "I'll take you back to the room first."

  "I'll take myself where I want to go, and I want to go to the livery." Ignoring his hand, Sam maneuvered her hoop from beneath the table and stood up. Hawk was already on his feet and watching her as if trying to decide if she were cat or mouse.

  Apparently deciding squabbling in public wasn't politic, Sloan didn't argue, but took her arm to escort her to the street.

  When they reached the livery, Sam raced through the stable to Gallant's stall. The horse stuck her head out to be petted and nudged her hand expectantly. Samantha's smile crumpled. "I should have brought her an apple!"