by Lisa Wells
Chapter 29
Lacey stared straight ahead as the truck came to a stop in front of a beautiful cabin. She didn’t recognize the cabin, but she knew she should.
Did we make love in there before we got married?
“This time, remember to walk across the bridge,” Covey teased her while opening the door.
Lacey tried to smile to cover her turmoil. “Perhaps you should hold my hand and make sure I’m safe.”
She was doing her best to flirt with him as if she remembered it all. As if their fantasy was still in place. How could she have fallen in love with him? He obviously never gave her any reason to feel it was okay to fall in love with him.
When he opened the cabin door, it all looked new to her. Nothing of the rugged furnishings jogged her memory.
“Lead the way,” she said quietly. I have no idea where the bed is.
Covey looked at her strangely. “To where?” he asked.
“To bed.”
His mouth dropped open and a light lit his eyes.
Realizing how her words sounded, she quickly explained. “I have a headache; I think I need to lie down.”
The light left his eyes. She followed him up a set of stairs that led to a loft bedroom.
At the top of the stairs, Covey turned and swung her up into his arms. “You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that?” His words were a husky whisper.
“I think so. But, it never hurts to hear again.” Lacey laid her head on his chest. His heart was thudding. He wasn’t indifferent to her. She aroused him as a man. If she couldn’t have his heart, she at least had that much of him.
Who would be the girl who would someday make his heart thud with love and not lust?
He laid her on the bed and took her shoes off. She looked at her shoes trying to remember them. Nothing. I like those shoes. Why couldn’t she remember a pair of shoes?
His hands went to the waistband of her jeans. She stiffened.
“What is it Lacey? I’ve seen you naked. I’m just going to help you get comfortable.” His brown eyes bored into hers.
She tried to relax her body. “Nothing. It’s nothing,” she dropped her lashes quickly to hide the uncertainty.
He unsnapped her jeans and slid them down her thighs. Now, all she was wearing was an oversized, man’s shirt and her panties.
She shivered and tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. Why didn’t you fall in love me? She wanted to scream the question in the silence of the cabin.
He quirked his eyebrow questioningly. “Are you cold?”
She hugged her arms around herself. “No.” She choked on the word.
He walked over to the stereo and turned it on. “Some day will you dance for me Lacey?” His voice was heavy with desire.
Lacey stayed where she was and listened to the blues music. The tension between them was suffocating. Dancing was something she remembered how to do. Perhaps dancing would relax her.
She stood and swayed slowly. The beat of the music found its way inside her body. She dreamed she was dancing for him on their wedding night. She was wearing a white silk shirt and g-string panties.
Covey sat down in a chair to watch. She moved with deliberate slowness, building the tension in the room.
His stare was bold.
When she was ready, she moved in front of him and let her hands shift to her body. She traced her body with her hands while he traced her body with his eyes. Her emotions and needs were in control.
Her touch became more erotic. She let her hands skim down over her breasts and splay over her stomach. She did tiny turns as she ran her hands up and down her hips displaying quick glimpses of her panties. Her body felt heavy and warm with desire.
With her back to him, she placed her hands flat on the floor, her legs slightly spread. She rolled her hips suggestively. His hand came out and touched her. His touch was nearly overwhelming.
Slowly, very slowly, she slid her hands up her legs before smacking her butt playfully with one hand. She heard his groan in the background. His breathing was labored.
She turned toward him and placed one foot on his knee. Leaning in, she kissed him as she pulled the shirt up over her stomach. Her heart thumped erratically as she sat down on his lap.
Hooking her feet around the chair legs, she arched backward until her hair was touching the ground. With languid movements, she raised the shirt higher. At the last moment, she sat up straight.
“How was that?” She felt the electricity of his gaze. She’d just danced as intimately as she knew how for a man. It was her gift to him before this whole charade ended.
His dark eyes never left her for an instant. “Does your head hurt?”
“It did. Music and dancing relaxes me.” Standing up she took a step back and turned toward the bed.
He grabbed her hand. “Lacey? I want you.”
Lacey wanted to shout, I love you. But, she couldn’t. She nodded her head. If this fantasy marriage was going to be short, she wanted to have a real memory of their lovemaking to take with her.
He groaned and pulled her tightly against him. His hands ran feverishly along her body. A delightful shiver of wanting ran through him. She undid the buttons of his jeans.
When there were no more buttons to release, her hand slid inside his jeans. The intoxicating musk of his body overwhelmed her as she stroked him.
Slowly, her own need climbed to a new height. A need she was sure he could satisfy. A need she was ready for him to satisfy. She was filled with anticipation.
“I need you,” she said, on a groan.
“Lead the way,” he whispered into her hair.
She helped him slip out of his jeans, and then he helped her slip out of her panties. She lay down on the bed and opened her legs in invitation. The magnificent man in front of her knelt down on the bed.
He dragged his face across her stomach up to her breasts. As he sucked on the tip of one, he fondled the other, squeezing it and rolling it between his fingertips. “God, I want you.”
Lacey arched her back in need. She had no desire to back away from what she started. She fought back the urge to declare her love, and hoped the final act would erase the feeling completely. She’d give anything to think of him as her Mr. Wrong again. To remember everything leading up to their marriage of convenience.
Pulling on his hair, she urged him over her body. Their lips crushed into one another in hunger. Greedy tongues took turns exploring one another. The warmth of his hands on her body was so male, so erotic.
His hand went between her legs, where he found her tiny bud of sex and rubbed it lightly causing an exquisite torturous need to build. When his fingers slid into her, red lights exploded in her head as wave after wave of pure pleasure plummeted her into ecstasy. His fingers stayed until the waves of pleasure passed, and then he started the torture all over.
“Come inside of me,” she whispered.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he growled, while straddling but not touching her.
She lifted her hips to make contact.
When he relented and lowered his body down to hers, she gasped in pleasure. It was flesh against flesh, man against woman. She nearly died with need when he placed his large cock at her opening. He teasingly went in and then pulled almost out before stroking her again in the same way.
Her hips buck wildly, wanting the feel of all of him inside of her hammering her with its length. She wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer. Her hands grabbed his head and forced him down on top of her.
He was unwilling to let her be in control. He grabbed her hands and pulled them over her head before he let go and pounded her with a speed and need that made her gasp for air.
The pleasure was pure and volatile. The degree to which she responded stunned her.
When they came, it was an explosion that rocked her to another planet, and the aftermath left her spiraling through space with no gravity to cushion the fall.
She lay there breathless, ga
sping for control.
Images of Covey and her spending time together flashed through her brain. She remembered. Her wish came true.
Warm tears traveled down her cheeks. The explosion had brought with it her memory. She remembered it all.
Unfortunately, the love in her heart was still there. She was in love with a man who didn’t believe in love. She was in love with a man she promised she would never fall in love with.
She was in love with her Mr. Wrong and he was right for her in every way except one. He didn’t believe in love. Those were the undeniable and dreadful facts.
When Covey opened his eyes and saw her tears, he frowned. “Why?” he asked simply, while wiping them away with his fingers.
Was he asking why sex, or why the tears? “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” There was still a chance for her to grow whole again if she walked away from him now.
He shook his head. “We have a deal?” His voice was smooth but insistent.
She fought for words to push him away. It was a matter of her survival. “I’m sorry; I just realized I’m still in love with my ex. I need to go back and fight for him,” she lied.
His face became a stone mask of disbelief. “That bastard? You would go back to him,” he asked, spacing the words evenly.
“I need to see if he wants to give us another chance,” she lied. She cringed at the fury she saw in his eyes.
“Are you still in love with him?” His words were as cold as his features.
Lacey grabbed at the excuse. “Yes, I’m in love.” She couldn’t force any other lies out of her lips, but that one word was enough.
Covey climbed off her and dressed without saying a word.
She wanted to reach out to him and tell him the truth. Tell him the love she felt was for him. Instead, she hardened her heart by erecting barriers of anger. It was his own fault. He was a coward. He could fight for her, he could give love a chance. But, he wouldn’t. He was willing let her walk away. “Try to understand, I need love.” I need it with you.
“You need love with a man who treated you like dirt? You would choose that over this?” He shot her a bitter glance and then without looking at her again, he headed toward the stairs.
Anger consumed her. “This? Is this so great? All you’re doing is using me to make your grandmother happy.”
He stumbled and then stopped. “That’s how you said you wanted me to treat you. Remember, you said I was Mr. Wrong.”
The fact he was right made her furious. “Well now, I want to be treated with love.”
He stilled. His face a camouflage of control. “By whom?”
Lacey froze. Is he offering me love? She had to know. She was willing to forgo her pride to know. “Do you love me?”
His face contorted in anger. “Dammit. We had a deal. I never break a deal.”
I’m such an idiot. Of course, he doesn’t love me. “I’m sorry.” Her thoughts fragmented as she tried to speak words that were in harmony with her heart.
“Forget it. There’s plenty of women willing to take your place. It’s just an inconvenience. My grandmother’s going to be hurt by my foolishness.” His voice was emotionless.
She felt chilled by the tone. “Your grandmother’s smart. She wants what’s best for you. If she’s a psychic, you’d never be able to fool her with an unconsummated marriage.”
Terrible regrets assailed Lacey. She’d made so many bad choices. She bit her lip until it throbbed like her pulse.
He looked at her with derision. “I would have ended this if you hadn’t. I’m tired of the sex as it is. When you’re ready, call the main house. I’ll arrange for someone to take you to the airport.” His words lashed her. “Have a nice life, Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator.”
Trapped in her own lie, she was defeated. Deep sobs racked her insides. She pressed a hand over her face to smother them until she heard the door slam. Then, she wept aloud, rocking back and forth in pain. The sound of her heart breaking surely could be heard above her noisy sobs if anyone cared to listen.
She was a loser. Covey was the second man she couldn’t keep happy in the bedroom.
She closed her eyes, reliving the pain of their final scene. It was senselessly and sickeningly familiar.
****
She woke to the sound of roosters crowing. It was time to return to reality. She couldn’t believe she’d actually fallen asleep.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes and she clamped her lips to imprison the sob pushing to come out. She was through with crying over men. A permanent sorrow might be weighing her down, but that didn’t mean she had to cry as she packed her bags and called for a lift to the airport.
Looking out the window, she was startled to see Covey standing at a fence, feeding hay to horses. He looked up, as if he felt her stare, and she pulled back behind the curtain. He had every right to hate her. She’d broken every promise she’d ever made him. She hated herself. She hated him.
Chapter 30
Winter was here. Lacey stood at her bedroom window and watched the snow falling like goose down blankets from the sky. The old fashion streetlights lining the sidewalks outside her window highlighted the thick, falling blanket of frozen precipitation.
The glorious sight was sucking the life out of her. Suffocating her with despair. Her shoulders slumped and she traced Covey’s name in the moisture for about the millionth time. Mute-wretchedness was the only emotion she seemed capable of feeling these days.
Trapped in her own lie, she was alone.
Marty was married to his calendar girl. Whoopee! And, Covey Grant-James III didn’t have the decency to chase after her when she left his ranch.
Instead, he’d stood mutely by with his hat pulled down low on his brow and watched his foreman drive her away. She’d waved, but he didn’t lift a hand to respond. The least he could have done was acknowledge her departure.
Why didn’t he follow me?
In her reoccurring dream, he’d chased after her. Forced the truck to stop. Wrenched open the door and declared his love for her. Then, he’d wrestled her down on the seat for sex, while the driver disappeared down the road.
But, in real life, not a word.
She pulled her robe tightly around her. The frigid, early season blizzard matched her heart. No warmth, no peace to be found. The streets were eerily quiet at a time when they were usually packed with holiday traffic.
Everyone, who didn’t have to be out on the streets, had been told to stay home. A state of emergency was declared for Mistletoe. They were under a winter storm warning.
What happened to the girl who always got giddy when there was a winter storm warning? The girl who got furious when the weather people predicted snow that didn’t materialize?
Today, the meteorologists were right. At least two feet of snow covered the ground. Another foot was forecasted. The blowing snow made driving hazardous. She was witnessing a blizzard. The last time she’d seen a blizzard, she was in seventh grade and infatuated with her best friend’s brother.
Lacey Valentine loved blizzards. She loved being inside, warm and cozy and looking out the window at a world with a clean slate. Yet, this blizzard wasn’t bringing her peace. She didn’t want a clean slate. She wanted the slate that said Lacey loves Covey.
Lacey traced a heart on the foggy window and wiped it away. Her energies were wasted on what might have been.
She shrugged in resignation and redrew the heart. What would it hurt? What else do I have? Might-have-beens were her only company. Who cared if she was behaving in a pathetic way.
It had been months since she last saw Covey. Months since his foreman drove her all the way from Texas to her house in Mistletoe. He had been a talkative man, telling her more about Covey than she really wanted to know. With every story he told, Lacey found herself falling further in love.
There were times, when she picked up the phone to call Covey and tell him she loved him. She wanted him to know the real reason she ran away. But, she couldn’t.
&n
bsp; It was her certainty in announcing how wrong he was for her that had given him the freedom to be himself around her. She couldn’t go back on her word, no matter how much pain it brought her. She placed her hand on her belly and remembered all the times his hand had rested there. She’d tried so hard to resist the urge to move it. Would he like her belly now? Would he care? When would she tell him?
She covered her face with trembling hands and gave vent to tears. She was his Ms. Wrong. He may think bad things about her, but at least she didn’t trap him in marriage.
She spent her nights wondering what it was about her that made her wrong for him. He never listed all her faults the way she listed his for him. If she knew what made her wrong, she could try to change them.
When the doorbell rang, she was happy for the intrusion. It was probably Maddison. The only one who would be calling on her tonight. No one else was insane enough to make house calls in the middle of a blizzard?
She prayed it wasn’t a reporter wanting an interview. She was so sick and tired of the press hounding her for information on her brief, fake marriage to Covey James III.
Walking barefoot to the front door, she tried to look out the peephole. It was frozen and she couldn’t see a thing. “Who is it?” she asked, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks.
The wind howling outside, kept her from hearing a response. If it wasn’t Maddison, it was probably someone in need of help. Someone stranded from the blizzard. She opened the door and peeked around the chain. The first thing she noticed was a cowboy hat being held in a man’s hands against his chest.
Her heartbeat skyrocketed. She tried to move her gaze from the hat to the face, but she couldn’t. She was afraid. She counted to three and forced her eyes a fraction higher. She gasped. A pair of chocolate brownie eyes blinked at her.
“May I come in?” asked a smooth, whiskey voice.
Her toes curled in appreciation of the fabulous voice she hadn’t heard in such a long time. She stepped back and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” She felt blood coursing through her veins like an awakened volcano. Her hand flew to her hair, and she frantically pushed it behind her ears. God, I look like crap.