The Connaghers Series Boxed Set

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  “My daddy has that same look, even in a wheelchair.” Nodding, she arched a brow at him, a teasing look sparking in her eyes. “You’ve got that look too, when you want to.”

  “Strikes fear into you, does it?” Despite the light joking tone, he watched her face carefully to see if he truly scared her. Playfully, she slugged him in the chest, easing his tension. “Well, I’ve got nothing like my daddy’s look. He’d won Colonel Healy’s approval to marry his daughter, and let me tell you, Colonel Healy was one tough bird. He took shit off nobody, not even Miss Belle, although she got away with more than most. That night, Daddy said:

  “‘I miss those days you and Victor played catch all night in the yard. He loved playing ball, but he loved playing with you more. He loved it more than he wanted to breathe.’ He turned and gave me that heavy stare that was enough to send me running to do whatever chore I’d neglected. ‘Son, what do you want to do more than breathe?’

  “Now this took every ounce of my courage, but I stood up, clutching that precious book in my hands, and I blurted out the truth. ‘I want to study English. I want to teach. I love it, Daddy, and I don’t love football. But I love Victor and you, and if you want me to play, I will.’

  “‘You do what you love, son. You go read your books. Life’s too short not to spend every waking moment doing something you love.’

  “He was one amazing man,” Conn whispered, his chest tightening with love and grief, both. “He died right after I got my bachelor’s degree. He came to SMU and cheered for me as hard as he did Victor, in his quiet way, of course. I never knew he was sick when I moved off to Duke to get my doctorate. Mama called me home just in time to say goodbye. I’ll never forget how scared I was, though, heading off to the college of my choice, living my dream, afraid I’d fail, or worse.”

  Rae stirred beside him, drawing his attention to her. Her lovely face was strained, her eyes glimmering with tears. “Why is it so scary to do what you want so much?”

  He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. Did she understand that he loved her more than life itself? “Because when you love something more than breathing, a part of you will die if it doesn’t work out.”

  “That part of you dies anyway if you don’t risk it.” Darkness filled her eyes, hurts and disappointments, love betrayed and innocence lost. He only knew bits and pieces of these last five years, but she knew the cost of sacrificing a dream as well as he. “Actually, more of you dies, I think. It rots inside you like a cancer.”

  “No more cancer, darlin’.” Part of him wanted to turn back time and spare her those hurts, but would she have run from him again? Had those years of sadness been necessary to bring them together here and now? He couldn’t do anything to wipe the darkness from her memory, but he could certainly give her new dreams. New memories to warm her heart for the rest of their lives. “We’ve got the cure right here, right now, if you want to take it.”

  18

  Rae sat back on her heels, measuring the tiny bed with her eyes. “There’s not room for you, let alone both of us.”

  Sitting up, he reached out, grasped her hands, and drew her to him. “You think so, darlin’?” Hands closing around her waist, he lifted her onto his lap. Then he lay back on the bed, shifting deliberately beneath her until she felt his erection nestled hard between her legs. As a result, the silk sheath rode up high on her hips.

  Concentrating on breathing slowly and evenly, and not ripping his shirt open, she could hardly recognize her thick, raspy voice. “I never imagined you’d let me be on top.”

  “Darlin’, I’ll let you take any position you want as long as I’m inside you.” He feathered his fingertips over the curves of her breasts bared by the low-cut black silk bodice. “You look amazing. Is black your favorite color?”

  “Nope.”

  His mouth quirked, eyes darkening. Sliding his hands down, he hooked his thumbs beneath the hem of the dress. “Are you going to let me see which ones you picked?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, her stomach fluttering. I’d let you do damned near anything you want. Afraid she’d said it aloud, she flushed, searching his gaze for any flicker of response.

  “Just a peek, darlin’. Give me a glimpse of heaven to distract me from the hell of Miss Belle’s cooking.” His fingers stroked higher on her hips, silk gliding higher. “Have you thought of your word yet?”

  She blinked stupidly. How could she think when she straddled him like this? “Word?”

  “I want you to pick a word that makes you feel safe and protected when you’re with me.”

  Safe, yeah, right. Staring down into his face shadowed by a day’s growth, she decided he looked nothing like safety. Midnight eyes flashing with wicked intent, he looked like sin.

  “It should be meaningful and unusual, not something you’d say to me under any normal situation. That way, I know immediately that you need me to stop.”

  Shelley was his favorite poet, and she knew he’d studied Prometheus Unbound in his doctorate thesis. He’d commented on it often in class. “How about… Prometheus?”

  She wasn’t prepared for him to laugh with amusement. “I have a dog named Prometheus, and one named Manfred.”

  Oh. She wracked her brain, trying to remember some other name from their poetry class. Not Byron or Shelley—those were too easy, and he’d likely quiz her on them directly. “How about Ozymandias?”

  “‘My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:/ Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!’ Are you sure you can say it in the throes of passion? Perhaps we should test it out.”

  That didn’t sound good. Well, it did, but—

  He raised her up and scooted lower, wiggling her up onto his stomach. His chest.

  “What are you doing?”

  With another heave, he worked her knees up over his shoulders, putting his face inches away from the vee of her thighs. “I want to see what your favorite color is.”

  Involuntarily, she closed her thighs against invasion, his bristly face rough on the tender skin.

  He pushed her dress up around her waist and made an appreciative sound. “Cherry red, very nice.” He breathed deeply and his chest vibrated against her legs. “You smell like spice and musk, velvet and satiny rose petals. I’m hungry, darlin’, hungry for you. I want to savor a taste of you before Miss Belle’s cooking kills my tastebuds.”

  Breathing shallow and fast, she thought her heart might pound right out of her chest. She cast a wary glance at the door. It was shut, but Miss Belle was right downstairs. The threat of exposure made her feel like a teenager making out in the backseat of his car in the middle of the night in the park. “Here?”

  “Give me a taste of heaven while I blow your mind.”

  He splayed his left hand on her buttock, urging her closer, while he worked his right hand down by his face to lightly stroke over the red silk. “Oh, yeah, you’ve already dampened these sexy little panties. Lean back and brace yourself on my stomach. I’d rather taste you skin to skin without the barrier, but I don’t have time to do you full justice this first time. Later tonight, I’ll strip these off, spread you wide, and lick until you beg for mercy.”

  Moaning at the thought, she leaned back, tilting her pelvis up for him. Hot and wet, his tongue slid up the crotch of her panties. She dug her fingers into the flat planes of his stomach hard enough he grunted. Even through the silk, the pressure of his tongue, the heat of his breath, was amazing.

  He hooked a finger beneath her panties, unerringly sliding deep into her. His tongue curled, pressing silk inside. His teeth closed carefully around that bud of flesh, his finger stroking slow and firm. Pleasure hummed inside her, swelling, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  “Oh no you don’t, darlin’. I want to hear you. Don’t keep anything back from me.”

  A ragged moan escaped, and she clenched her hands tighter.

  Somebody knocked on the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Conn!” Rae panted, jerking against hi
s grip. Miss Belle had already caught them once, in a much less compromising position. She’d die of embarrassment if the old bat walked in now. “Let me go!”

  “Not yet, darlin’. Not until you come.”

  Her voice went up another notch. “What if she comes in?”

  “Then she sees me eating my cherry dessert early. Or you can use your word and I’ll stop immediately.”

  The door handle wiggled, jangling, and she spasmed, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.

  “Why is this door locked? Verrill Connagher, open this door right now!”

  “I didn’t lock it,” he whispered. “Come or give me your word, darlin’. Colonel Healy can’t hold her off for long.”

  Through the silk, he sucked harder, his tongue stroking firm. She clenched, groaning desperately when he got another finger inside her. But the door rattled, Miss Belle pounding, shouting.

  She couldn’t do it. Any minute, the crazy old lady would barge in. “Ozy—”

  The rest of the safe word was lost in a rush of pleasure. Groaning, he rubbed his face harder against her, drawing out every tremor. Then he lifted her off, set her on her feet and smoothed her dress down just as the door flew open hard enough to hit the wall.

  Rae swayed, grateful for his hands on her waist. She hunched her shoulders against the daggers the old lady must be shooting at her back.

  “What’s going on in here?” Miss Belle retorted. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?”

  Using Rae’s body to block his grandmother’s view, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean, growling softly. Fresh moisture flooded between her trembling legs, and his eyes darkened, his nostrils flaring as if he scented her desire.

  “Sorry, Miss Belle. You know that old door always used to stick.” Conn winked at Rae and stood up, drawing her into his arms. Face hot, she buried her face against his shirt and prayed the old lady wouldn’t take one look at her and know the truth. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Meatloaf.”

  Conn flinched. She glanced up at his face, and he was actually rather pale. He squeezed her reassuringly, but his coloring worsened as they headed downstairs. The closer they got to the dining room table, the smell grew worse. Rotting cabbage and eggs was the closest description Rae could come up with. The black dress was too low cut for her to stick her nose down in her shirt, so she leaned into him and breathed in his scent as long as possible.

  A brown log was on the table, along with a bowlful of something that she thought was supposed to be mashed potatoes, but it looked rather like glue, and another bowl of green beans so shriveled up they looked like dirty green pipe cleaners. Rae shared a mute, pleading look with Conn, and his arm tightened. He looked to the door, as if he might bolt, but then pulled her chair out.

  Sitting down at the head of the table, Miss Belle frowned. “Be a dear and slice the meatloaf, Conn.”

  Staring at the brown log doubtfully, he picked up a serrated knife and tapped the loaf. It thunked. “Did you put concrete in it?”

  “Balderdash.” Miss Belle sniffed, which made her cough into her hanky. “Oh dear. It doesn’t smell like this when Samantha makes it.”

  “Nothing smells like this but sewage,” Conn muttered. “Maybe a medieval battlefield full of rotting bodies. Certainly not anything I want to put in my mouth.”

  Eyes watering, Rae tried not to laugh, because then she’d have to take a deeper breath of the putrid meatloaf. God help her if the old lady actually expected her to eat it.

  He tried to slice it but ended up using both hands on the hilt and sawing it apart. Green and red bits fell out. Conn turned his head and coughed, eyes streaming.

  Even Miss Belle looked rather green around the gills. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried stuffing it.”

  “Stuff it with what?”

  “Anchovies, capers, red pimento, all sorts of elegant things I found in the cupboard. Even some pickled quail eggs.”

  “Are quail eggs supposed to be green?”

  Rae gagged. “I’m sorry, Miss Belle, but capers make me ill.”

  “Oh, dear. Well.” Miss Belle blinked, eyes watering, and dabbed at them with her napkin. “Me too. Let’s have dinner in town.”

  Rae had never been so happy to sit down at a greasy spoon for a hamburger and fries. Sitting tight against Conn’s side with her face on his shoulder, she thought she might eventually get the stench of Miss Belle’s deadly meatloaf out of her nose. Someday. In the meantime, she didn’t care if the old lady approved of such public affection or not.

  He leaned forward just enough for her to wedge in behind his shoulder. His left arm ran down the front of her body. What Miss Belle didn’t know was that his hand cupped her beneath the dress and she’d wrapped her thighs tight around his forearm to keep it there.

  Good thing he could eat one handed.

  “Who’s that man at the counter?” Miss Belle asked, daintily dabbing at her lips. She’d already finished her bacon cheeseburger and was eyeing Rae’s Susie Q’s. The old lady ate like a horse.

  Conn glanced at the man sitting on the old-fashioned round barstool and gave him a hard glare that sent cold chills down Rae’s spine. Every man in the place—including Conn—was dressed in jeans except for him. He wore a suit and sat like the king of the world surveying his domain. Mid thirties, she thought, rather attractive in a slick used-car-salesman sort of way. Not her type.

  Especially when the man sitting beside her took her breath away.

  “Jared Kent, vice president of the bank.” Conn gave a little squeeze, drawing a soft moan out of her. As if he needed to remind her where her eyes should be. Irritated, she sat up straighter, ready to push him away, but he winked at her over his shoulder. She bit him in the back, lightly at first in a warning nip, and then harder because she liked the feel of him in her mouth.

  His voice was thicker when he continued. “His family’s well off, nearly owned the whole town until the Healys marched in and set up camp. His daddy runs the bank, while his uncle runs the town council. His grandfather was the county seat judge for decades.”

  “I thought so.” The gleam in Miss Belle’s eyes grew brighter. “He looks rather familiar. His granddaddy and Colonel Healy fought for my hand.”

  Miss Belle’s glass of Cherry Coke quivered and slid toward the edge of the table. Rae gasped, gripping Conn’s arm tighter, her mouth dry. The old lady caught the glass and calmly took a sip before setting it back in front of her. “You know that’s the truth, honey. You also know I never looked at him after you declared your intentions.”

  A breeze ruffled Miss Belle’s bangs and she giggled.

  Damned if she didn’t blush, too. The old lady leered across the table at Rae. “Healy men are rather arrogant, Rae Lynn, but they’re worth the trouble. Just remember my pink parasol is at your disposal if you ever need to beat some sense into my grandson.”

  Conn leaned back to whisper into her ear. “If you whack me with something, then I get to turn you over my knee.”

  Miss Belle winked and slid out of the booth. “Don’t keep her out too late, Conn, or I’ll come looking for you again. I’m going to stop at Pearsons for a drink first.”

  “Pearsons?” Conn frowned. “That’s a pretty rough bar, Miss Belle. Are you sure—”

  “Colonel Healy assures me some very interesting goings-on have occurred there. I’m going to see for myself.” Bending down, she patted him on the shoulder and whispered loudly. “Just a few more days and I’ll win the bet. So be a gentleman and take your hand out from under the dear girl’s dress.”

  With another wink, the old lady headed outside, jumped in her white Caddy, and flew down the blacktop.

  Ears roaring and face burning, Rae eased her leg-grip on his hand.

  “Do you want anything else?” His voice was husky with laughter and desire. “Because I’m ready for dessert, and I don’t mean an ice cream shake. Although I’ll take the cherry on top.”

  Turning a delightful shade of pi
nk that would do Miss Belle proud, Rae slugged him in the shoulder and pushed his hand free. Laughing softly, Conn dropped a few bills on the table and drew her out of the booth. She turned to leave, and he caught a glimpse of white on the booth. Why she kept carrying the purse when she obviously cared so little about it was beyond him. He bent over to retrieve it.

  As he straightened, he noticed the slick-suited man at the counter staring at her legs with a salacious twist to his lips that made Conn ache to pound him to a pulp.

  Smoothing the dress back down over her hips, she noticed the man ogling her, too, and sent a tight, concerned glance at Conn. He smiled reassuringly and dropped his black leather coat around her shoulders. Evidently, Dick had hassled her if other men dared look at her. Idiot. Pressing the forgotten purse into her hand, he drew her close and whispered, “I know who you’re going home with, darlin’, and you certainly don’t look at him like you look at me.”

  The worry eased on her face. “Am I going home with you?”

  He took her hand, drawing her close to his side. While outwardly he remained unconcerned, he kept one eye on Jared Kent, who slid off his barstool as they approached. “I certainly hope so, at least for awhile.”

  “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” Kent said. “Connagher, isn’t it?”

  Conn knew exactly what kind of man Mr. Slick was, and he’d lay a hand on Rae over Conn’s dead body. “And you won’t.”

  “You didn’t go to school around here, did you?”

  “Nope.”

  The man frowned, trying to place him. Did the bastard forget the worst beating of his life? “Have you lived here long?”

  “Only eight years,” Conn replied wryly, shaking his head.

  He headed for the door, but the moron stepped in front of him. Conn knew the type; he just couldn’t let something go. Like a little yapper, he had to be top dog, even if the new dog on the block was a pit bull. He was too stupid and full of himself to see the teeth. “Come on, Connagher, introduce me to the girl.”