“Why?”
“Trust me, Rae Lynn.” Miss Belle glided toward the door, her smile dazzling. “Healy men are insufferably arrogant. A little consternation will do him a world of good. Besides, I need to win this bet.”
“Nobody said anything about marriage and babies,” Rae called after the disappearing old lady.
Miss Belle’s voice floated to her as ethereal as her dead husband’s ghost. “Don’t be so sure, dear.”
23
Rae woke up, listening. Faint light came through the window, barely dawn. She heard a car in the distance. Maybe that had awakened her. Six o’clock was much earlier than she planned to leave, but she wasn’t one for wasting time. Shrugging, she got up and showered. Fingering the skimpy pieces of underwear Conn had bought for her, she closed her eyes, remembering his passion again. The stroke of his hands and tongue, the command of his body.
She’d come home without underwear again. That was the second pair of hers he’d claimed.
Full of regret and need to see him, to explain about last night, she chose somber black panties, a faded black Drury sweatshirt, and jeans. She grabbed a few spares of everything and tossed them into her suitcase. Miss Belle wanted her to stay the weekend, but she didn’t think she’d make it that long.
She wanted Conn’s arms. She wanted to bury her face against his chest and tell him the truth. Why she’d been scared. Why she wasn’t scared of him any longer. She trusted him. She really did. And she’d like nothing better than to run across the property and climb into his bed to tell him.
Sighing, she went to the dresser and stared down at the check for two thousand dollars. Her family really did need it. She had done work for the old lady. After the way Miss Belle had comforted her last night, could she really be angry at the old gal for hunting her down and bringing her to Conn?
She folded the check and jammed it into her jeans pocket along with her keys. The purse Miss Belle made her carry—where was it? She remembered having it at Conn’s house. She must have left it there. Luckily it didn’t have much in it other than chapstick. And her cell phone. Shit.
And those letters.
Now she was more tempted than ever to stop by his house. But the dogs would bark, and Miss Belle would bark the loudest. She was determined not to lose that stupid bet with her husband’s ghost.
And if Rae ended up at Conn’s house after last night… She couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t end up in his bed.
Tiptoeing downstairs and outside to her truck, she shoved the suitcase across the seat. Brrr. It was definitely colder this morning. The trees would be changing color soon, pumpkins on the porch, corn stalks and hay bales in people’s yards. She couldn’t wait.
Something caught her eye. A sheet of paper lay on the floorboard. Picking it up, she scanned it.
Only one word was written on it.
Whore.
Hand shaking, she looked around wildly. The sound of a car driving away—who would have been up here? It had to be Richard. It was just the sort of mean, nasty thing she’d expected from him when she kicked him out. Why now?
The only reason she could think of was Conn. She hadn’t dated anyone until now.
What a dick. Let him show up. If she didn’t shoot him, maybe Conn would hack him up with his sword.
“I need your help.” Conn gripped the phone between his chin and shoulder, ignoring Mason’s sleepy groans and mumbles. Yeah, it was early Saturday morning, but they were supposed to drive to Joplin for a Renaissance Festival later today anyway. “Tell me how to get into my campus e-mail.”
“Who’s dead?” Mason shouted and something crashed so loudly that Conn winced. “Is Miss Belle alright? You know the ambulance can find that old barn without you risking the apocalypse by dipping a toe in the Internet, right?”
He swallowed hard, fighting for control. His eyes burned from reading all night. He would’ve been riveted to Rae’s letters any day, but as soon as he’d found the flash drive in the purse that she’d left behind once again, he’d done nothing but read with a growing sense of dread. He’d cursed so loudly he’d scared the dogs, laughed a few times, and yeah, he’d shed a few tears, too, although he’d never admit it to anyone but her.
If he ever found her again. “Rae left. The last time she ran, she e-mailed me and I never knew.”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I thought…” Mason cleared his throat. “I would have given you two a very high probability of living happily ever after. What happened?”
Again, nothing he could admit to anyone but her. “Can you help me?”
Of course, Mason, mathematician and numerical analysis programmer, could and did assist even the most computer-illiterate professor at Drury onto the Internet, to no avail. She hadn’t e-mailed.
“Did you ever learn where she’d been?” Mason asked.
Conn flipped open his wallet and took out her business card. He’d already called her cell, but she’d left it in her purse here. That’s how he’d found the dainty white bag in the first place. That purse was so unlike her, so utterly un-Rae. He should’ve insisted she toss the thing in the garbage and pick out her own purse instead of carrying around Miss Belle’s suggestion.
If he ever saw her again, he’d burn the damned thing himself. He’d burn that flash drive, too, and he’d hold her against his heart until every single dark memory had finally been blazed away by his love.
“I have her company name and phone number. I’ll start by finding out where her office is and backtrack.”
“Miss Belle—”
“I already asked her before I called you, but she was too busy rushing off to help her cook through her husband’s funeral today.”
In fact, Miss Belle had tartly told him he’d gotten exactly what he deserved, and then she’d shoved a pink parasol into his hands and demanded he give it to Rae and beg her to beat some sense into him.
He’d do so willingly, if she’d come back.
“You really do love her.” Mason didn’t sound pleased, though, not at all. His voice quivered, and if Conn didn’t know better, he’d swear his friend was gearing up for a monumental display of ire. The slow-burners were always the loudest when they exploded, as his father had testified. “I hate what she’s doing to you. You don’t deserve this, Conn. She’s got you running endless laps on a Mobius strip! You’ll never get to the other side, don’t you see?”
“I deserve it,” Conn said flatly. “I scared her. I hurt her. She was fully justified in running both times. But I refuse to wait another five years before begging her forgiveness. Checking my e-mail is only the first of my penance.”
“I’ll be damned. I never thought the great Dr. Connagher who bemoaned the loss of true poetry in this weary world would ever join the twenty-first century. I’ll help you find her just to see if she can convince you to start a Romantic Poetry blog.”
“Balderdash,” Conn retorted, stealing Miss Belle’s favorite word. “By the way, I’ll have to cancel our demonstration today. So how do I find her?”
“Have you ever heard of Google?”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
24
Sitting on the deck with her family, Rae tried to keep her mind in the present, but she’d been on the same page of the book for at least an hour. Daddy sat beside her wrapped in a quilt, Mom beside him working a crossword puzzle. Uncle Frank and his entire family were coming for dinner in another hour or so, and the delicious smell of pot roast filled the air.
She smiled, remembering Miss Belle’s meatloaf.
Which only made her think of Conn.
Daddy’s hand settled on her arm, clutching her. “Dick.”
She jumped up to retrieve the shotgun in the house, but the approaching car froze her in place. She had no idea whether Richard still had his flashy SUV or not, but it was a black Mustang pulling into the drive.
She smiled reassuringly at Daddy. “It’s Conn.”
Jumping down off the deck, she raced around the side of the ho
use.
Already parked, he pushed open the car door and stood, his gaze locked on her. He wore dark sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his face looked rather grim. The groove between his eyes was heavily pronounced. Yet she didn’t stop. She ran straight toward him and slammed into his arms.
He clutched her hard against him, his arms squeezing off her air, but she didn’t care.
“Rae.” His voice was rough, his breathing ragged. “Darlin’.”
“How’d you know where I was?”
He set her down, firmly disengaging her arms from around his neck. Then he went to his knees in front of her and buried his face against her chest, wrapping his arms around her. “Forgive me, please. I won’t touch you again until there’s not a hint of fear in you, I swear it. I won’t even kiss you. Just come back. Give me a chance.”
Stunned, she stroked her fingers through his hair. It tore her up to hear the emotion shredding his voice. Regret, agony, guilt. For a man like him to beg…
Then it hit her. He thought she’d run. Again.
“Conn, I love you.”
He made an agonized sound against her, his fingers digging into her back.
“I didn’t break my promise to you.”
Slowly, his head came up. She took the dark glasses away so she could see the thunderstorm brewing in his gaze. His face was so hard, lines and chasms put there by her.
Tears burning in her eyes, she stroked her fingers over his face, trying to smooth away the hurt. “I didn’t run.”
“You’re not at Beulah Land. You’re not in my bed.”
“Miss Belle told me to take the weekend off.”
Irritation flashed across his face. “The old battleaxe wouldn’t tell me a word. I finally had to call Mason and brave Google to find your address.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “You were coming back?”
“Of course.” She smiled back wobbily. “You actually got on the Internet?”
“I even checked my e-mail,” he replied, his tone flat with disgust and self-deprecatory humor. Then his manner turned solemn once more. “What about last night?”
“I had a talk with her, and she helped me see things in a different light. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
His face softened. “I found your purse when I called your cell phone. I wouldn’t normally go through your things, but I was desperate. I read your letters.”
“Oh.” Flushing, she dropped her gaze and swallowed hard. He knew everything, then. Which was good, really, but she’d rather he didn’t know the truth. “I was afraid I’d be too weak to tell you no.”
“You won’t have to tell me no.” His fingers settled beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I will never hurt you like that. I won’t allow you to slip there, darlin’. I’ll hold you safe and unhurt, I swear it.”
“You don’t…regret it? That I can’t—”
“Absolutely not. The only reason I even tried it was because you needed to be filled up, tight, and well, that was the quickest way I could meet that need without breaking my word and opening my pants. I know better now.”
“Richard liked it.” Her voice was fragile, but she had to make sure. “If you—”
“I don’t need it. I don’t even want it. I want you, Rae, however you’ll take me.”
She frowned, worrying her lip. “I don’t like being afraid of anything, not even with you. Especially with you.”
His hands dipped lower, gently kneading her backside. His mouth curved in that seductive little smile that said he was bad, so very bad. “As long as you don’t object to fondling,” he gripped her ass harder, pulling her pelvis tighter against him, “and the occasional spanking, I won’t ever touch you like that again. I won’t ever take you to that limit again unless we’ve discussed it thoroughly beforehand, outside of bed.”
She played with the collar of his white Oxford shirt, tempted to undo another button so she could kiss his chest. “I can live with that.”
His voice lowered to the slow, rumbling drawl. “However, if you decide someday that you want to rid yourself entirely of that fear, I’ll help you, slowly and carefully. With time and a great deal of care, I can make it not hurt, darlin’.”
Staring into his smoldering eyes, she thought maybe, just maybe, he might be right. She leaned down and lightly brushed her mouth across his. “So you were tempted to break your word, huh?”
“Hell yeah. I wanted to be inside you so bad I hurt. To hear you ask for me—” He shuddered, his hands convulsing on her butt again. “When you told me to take you to Beulah Land, it was all I could do not to drag you tight against me and hold you until you changed your mind.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed the time.”
“I know, darlin’.” He stood up and hugged her. “Take all the time you need. So Miss Belle knew all along that you’d worked things out in your mind, and she still led me around like a bull with a ring in my…er…nose. If she wasn’t my grandma, I’d be pissed. She even made me promise to give you this and beg you to use it on me.”
Forcing a solemn look on her face, Rae took the parasol and hefted it, testing its weight. “Indeed. So if I whack you a few times with it—”
He bent back down to retrieve her stupid white purse she’d gone off and forgotten again. “Just remember my promise to you, darlin’.”
Very deliberately, she slapped him on the ass with it. “I’m counting on it.”
Whirling around with a growl, he seized her hand raising the parasol for another strike. “Miss Jackson, I expect you to report to my office as soon as we get home.”
“Yes, sir, Dr. Connagher.”
Yanking the handle out of her hand, he threw the parasol into the back seat of his car. Eyes narrowed, he stepped in closer, holding her gaze while he slammed the car door shut.
She bit her lip, wishing she had a big mouthful of his muscled chest gripped in her teeth about now. “My, my, Dr. Connagher, you’re looking quite dangerous. Are you sure you want to meet my parents?”
“That depends.” In a flash, he picked her up, turned, and leaned her back against the car. His thigh crept up between hers, higher, harder, until he pressed firmly into the vee of her thighs. “Are you going to come for me?”
“Right now? Here?”
He nodded, his eyes dark. His rock-hard thigh ground against her and her eyes rolled back into her head. Burying one hand in her hair, he bent her harder against the car and kissed her, tongue sliding deep, commanding her response.
And she gave it, willingly. It poured up out of her, sweet pleasure rolling through her, crashing like waves on the shoreline. He rumbled appreciatively and drew her up off the car. Her legs trembled, so he wrapped his arm around her waist to help her walk.
“I still get to spank you.”
“That was the general plan,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing.
They walked up the front steps together, but Conn hesitated at the door. He leaned against the wall for a minute, dropping his head back. He let go of her completely and breathed deeply, eyes closed. “Give me a minute, darlin’. I don’t want to meet your father with a hard-on. If you love me, I could use a distraction.”
“Mom’s a much better cook than Miss Belle. We’re having pot roast, potatoes, and carrots. I’m not as good a cook as her, far from Samantha’s caliber, but I wouldn’t starve. I even made a cobbler.”
Uh-oh. Probably not the best topic. She rushed ahead. “Uncle Frank is coming with my aunt and younger cousin, Kari. She’s looking at colleges and I’ve been trying to get her to visit Drury. Maybe you can intrigue her into applying.”
“I’ll be happy to speak to her. What kind of cobbler did you make, darlin’?”
She winced. “Cherry.”
“Shit.”
Rae’s father might be a crippled invalid, but Conn recognized the hard gleam in the man’s eyes. His own father had possessed that iron inner core until the day he died.
She led Conn across the deck where both her
parents sat. “Daddy, Mom, this is Dr. Verrill Connagher, my English professor from Drury.”
Bending down, Conn took the older man’s trembling outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jackson.” He looked back over his shoulder and winked at her. He couldn’t resist a little teasing, especially since she’d told them his hated first name. “I’m afraid I’m a rather demanding taskmaster, but she did well in my class. Rae is an excellent student. In many ways.”
She blushed so red she actually swayed. Her mother made a small noise—laughter, Conn thought, noting the brightness of the woman’s eyes—and covered her mouth with her hand.
Daddy squeezed his hand but didn’t let go. In fact, he tugged Conn down to look into his eyes. “Conn.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Love Rae?”
He let all the emotion blaze in his eyes. “More than life itself.”
In response, Daddy’s eyes hardened and he frowned. Conn felt a twinge of worry, until he realized the older man was simply concentrating very hard, struggling to speak. “Dick. Hurt. Her.”
Conn let a smile twist his mouth that he knew betrayed his nice polite professor mask that he typically wore in public. “If Dick ever tries to lay a hand on her again, I’ll kill him.”
By the low, flat threat of menace in his voice and the hardness in his eyes, he knew both her parents understood that he meant it. Rae’s mother visibly relaxed, her eyes shining suspiciously. He could only imagine how much they’d worried that their asshole ex-son-in-law might try to hurt her again, and there was nothing they could do to protect her.
Daddy let go of his hand and patted his shoulder. “Good.”
“He’s back,” Rae whispered.
Conn jerked upright, turning to search her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering a little, so he quickly drew her close, offering the heat and protection of his body.
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