by Melissa Beck
She stood there, still as the stone around them.
"Do you want Amy? Are you—are you being nice to me because of that? I need to know. I have to trust that you're being honest with me, because to be honest with you, I'm feeling vulnerable."
That wasn't what he wanted. All he wanted was to hold her, squeeze her and reassure her. But he couldn't guarantee her anything except that he'd have to leave Marydale soon. Everything about her, from her past to her present in this little town, in her cozy house, with these honest, good people surrounding her, screamed that she needed someone with staying power, and he didn't want to hang around long enough to hear “I don't want you anymore.” Been there, done that.
He just wanted another kiss. One hot, deep kiss like the one interrupted one they'd shared last night that had left him hard and aching and, finally, alone. Maybe he wanted to avenge those feelings by making her at least crave him that way, too. Or maybe he just wanted more of the same because he was a glutton for punishment. A moment's worth of tasting her honeyed kiss and feeling her soft curves against him was worth the aftermath.
He raked a hand through his hair, dampened by the cave's humidity. “I don't want to hurt you."
"Not trusting you isn't personal. It's just how I feel."
"I'm taking it personally."
"I know. Why?"
"Because you're shutting me out."
She moved slowly across the wet, flat stone. Stopping inches from him, she set the lantern on a stone beside them. Tilting her face up, she caught his gaze. “But there's more to it, isn't there? I can see it in your face when you look at Amy. It's like, you want to be here, but you're scared of something. What?"
He swallowed. “Very few people I loved are still in my life."
She frowned. “Your parents?"
"Killed when I was a kid. Car crash."
"Who raised you?"
"Fosters."
"You're not close to them?"
"Let's just say they're close to me as long as I send money."
"But, you have your brother. He works for you, right?"
"Right. We were raised by different families. I found him two years ago, and hired him away from another attorney's firm after offering him a huge retainer."
"Are you saying you found your brother so you could hire him?"
He shook his head. “I found him because I wanted to find him. But we relate best on a business level. It's what I know."
He reached out and touched her jaw, and dragged his finger along it, to gently tap her chin. “I've kept my distance from his family. They're his. I don't want to poison their relationship with my coming around."
"How could you?"
"It just happens that way with me."
"You know,” she murmured, after a moment, “I'm beginning to think we're not all that different."
"Why is that?"
"We keep our distance from people. We're our own persons."
He spread his fingers and cupped her chin. Then he leaned in and closed the gap, to brush his mouth across hers. He pulled back a little. “I could kiss you all day. Why is that?"
"It comes so easy to you. Like a handshake."
She kept her eyes closed while he kissed her nose, then touched his tongue to her earlobe. He'd made a promise to her about her safety. He'd keep it clean. Nuzzling her neck, he said, “There's something about ‘shaking hands’ with you, though, Gretchen, that's different."
Her lips curved at the edges, and she melted back against his hand resting on her back, keeping her close. It was a very vulnerable position, yet she seemed okay with it. She was a woman who knew her mind, but at the moment, she'd put that aside to go with what her body told her.
He'd do his damned best to keep her mind out of it.
He stroked up and down her back, nipped at her earlobe again, dragged his hand carefully around to where his palm pressed the side of her breast. “You feel good,” he growled, before tasting her lips again.
"So do you,” she murmured against his mouth, tucking her hips closer to his.
Damn. Did she know what she was doing? He pressed his erection closer, backing her against the wet cave walls in case she had any doubt that she was playing with fire. Then he leaned away, and sure enough, her eyes had opened in surprise.
They didn't need to play this game. He could go home and play it with anyone. Anyone but Gretchen, who he already knew couldn't be trusted to care. She'd left him once. She made it clear every single day that there was nothing for him here. Nothing but their daughter. So what was he doing?
In the lantern's light, he couldn't tell if her pupils were dilated, or if the pulse leapt in that telltale hollow of her neck. But her small ribcage moved in and out where his palms rested firmly at her sides, and her lips parted as she breathed.
She'd gripped his forearms for support while he leaned in to kiss her. Now that he'd steadied her against the wall, she drifted her hands up his arms to caress the nape of his neck. Fire shot to his nerve endings, sending his mind and body reeling.
She wanted something from him with those touches. Touches? She was stroking him!
With a groan, he bent and took her mouth, fast and hard. He pressed his lips to hers, and parted her teeth to plunge his tongue inside, to claim her sweetness with slower, more deliberate swirls and parries. She knew what they were playing with here. It wasn't unfamiliar territory. But if she must be shown that she was driving him to the edge, he would enjoy it. Then he'd stop.
But he didn't want to stop. Especially after she moved closer into his arms, pressing her breasts against his chest, her hips against his. She stroked his back with both hands. He followed her lead, kneading her muscles there gently, with the pads of his fingers, before tracing the delicate bones of her spine. He couldn't think. He deepened the kiss, moving his tongue, grinding his erection against her crotch, stroking her breast over her damned shirt one minute and in the next, sliding his fingers below the back waistband of her jeans to touch warm, firm flesh.
When his fingers found the crease of her bottom, he groaned. How fast could he get her out of these clothes? Hell, a minute longer and they'd burn themselves off.
He waited for her to realize his intentions and pull away. But she only kissed him harder and held him tighter, making him want her until he thought he would burst.
And then a face floated into his mind and fought to be seen. Amy. He could lose her if he couldn't control his lust and it scared Gretchen off again.
He broke the kiss and pulled away.
Gretchen came awake again more slowly, her half-closed eyes opening as she sucked in long, deep breaths. Finally, she murmured, “What is it? Did you hear something?"
"No.” He stared at her mouth, swollen with passion. “It's just, what are we doing here?"
She blinked.
"I had to stop. I thought of Amy."
"She's fine."
"That's not what I meant.” He looked away, and then back. “I thought of what happened the last time we acted like this.” No way was he admitting his real fears. Best to just state the obvious. “I'm not packing protection."
Her lips parted in surprise.
"I didn't think we'd need it."
"Oh.” Her expression closed.
"I didn't mean I wouldn't want to,” he murmured. “I meant I didn't think you'd let me."
She turned away, to steady herself with the other hand against the cave wall. “I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't mean to—to lose control that way."
She looked beautiful and exposed in the lantern's light. What was she doing to him? He wanted to pick right up where they'd left off, to lay her down on the flat rock floor and penetrate her, and please her, until they were both satiated and panting. Instead he heard himself say, “If you want to pretend we weren't both worked up enough for sex just now, fine.” Giving her a peck on the nose and grabbing her hand, he ground out, “Let's get out of here. Seems we needed a chaperone after all."
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Chapter Nine
Gretchen scrambled from the cave's dank opening. She couldn't get out of there fast enough. Daniel had been truthful with her about his past, and she'd responded with a little too much compassion. Once she recovered from the erotic state of bliss his kisses left her in, uncertainty over what they were doing had quickly crept back in. Now, balancing on the rocky terrain, she blinked against stinging rays of afternoon sunlight as the field and the trees came into focus. She glanced toward the cluster of large boulders where Eula had said she'd catch her breath before trekking back to the house.
A pair of hiking boots jutted out from the far side of the largest stone.
"Eula!” She bolted for the boulder mass, acid fear pumping through her veins.
"Damn.” Daniel's low curse echoed against the rock walls as he emerged from the cave. Seconds later, his footsteps pounded the ground behind her.
She was fast, but he soon passed her. Reaching Eula, he knelt by her side.
Gretchen skidded to a stop on the opposite side of her friend. “Eula?” she forced out between gasping breaths.
Eula lay there, eyes closed and ghostly pale, her chest barely moving.
She's alive. Oh, thank God.
Daniel yanked the cell phone from his breast pocket and thrust it toward her. “Call 9-1-1."
His forceful glance eased her fears somewhat as she took the phone, but her fingers still shook as she keyed in the number. When the dispatcher answered, she blurted details of the emergency. Once he'd promised the ambulance was on its way, she hung up.
Eula moaned and moved her head from side to side.
"Open your eyes, Eula,” Daniel commanded, gently rubbing her upper arms.
She blinked, and squinted into the sun.
"Are you hurt anywhere?” Daniel's gaze, razor-sharp, searched hers. “Did you fall?"
She glanced from him to Gretchen, her face drawn and still drained of color. Her clear blue eyes seemed to reflect fear instead of recognition.
"Ssh. It's okay.” Gretchen smoothed the wildness from Eula's cottony hair. Then she caught the hollow look in Daniel's eyes, and her heart ached with renewed fear.
She glanced at the house. Pushing herself to her feet, she said, “I'll show the EMT's up. Be right back."
She raced down the hill.
As she entered the house, she heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen, and bolted in that direction. Yanking the door open, she caused a clothesline of finger paintings attached to the knob to plummet to the ground.
"Mommy!” Amy scolded.
Glancing around, Gretchen saw Cile standing at the sink. As she turned, a jar of paintbrushes in her hand, she caught sight of Gretchen and her face brightened. Instantly, her smile evaporated and she rushed over. “What's going on?"
"It's Eula. She fainted or something."
"In a cave?"
"No. By the boulders."
Gretchen and Cile headed for the back door, with Amy behind them, calling “I want to go, too!"
On the back porch, Cile touched Gretchen's forearm. “Did Aunt Eula get confused and fall?"
"We're not sure. We were in the cave, and—"
"She wasn't with you?"
"She had been, but not—not right then. She wanted to rest after Lion's Den. I took Daniel through Ants’ Hills."
"Oh.” Cile nodded, and turned and started up the hill, while Gretchen kept a protesting Amy back with her. She didn't want her to see Eula in that condition.
"Come on,” she said, heading inside again. “We'll wait out front for the ambulance. They need someone to show them the way."
While they waited, Gretchen wondered if there was censure in Cile's “Oh” when she told her they'd left Eula alone. Or was it just her own guilt over feeling she'd let Eula down? How long had her friend lain there without any help? Her stomach clenched at the thought.
Amy sat on the porch and poked her stuffed bunny's head between its posts while Gretchen paced and watched the road on the horizon line. A few cars passed by. After a while, her attention drifted to the wide expanse of fading front lawn, peppered with oak and sycamore leaves. How many times had Eula crisscrossed the grounds in her worn hiking boots, scattering chicken feed, milking Jessie or riding the hay baler? Now she lay there, disoriented and weak.
She pressed her lips together in frustration as she glued her gaze to the road again. Why hadn't she realized her friend wasn't feeling well? She should have stayed with her. Instead, she'd focused all her attention on “exploring” with Daniel. Forget the excuse of his wanting to see the caves. There was no more denying it. She'd wanted to explore and maybe even lose herself in the sweet-salty taste of his mouth, the rough strength of his fingers holding her, and the heady scent of soap and man on his skin.
What was wrong with her? Her mother's blood pumping through her, always causing this lust for the wrong man?
No. She had long been responsible for her own actions. It'd be her fault if she couldn't stop wanting Daniel, and ended up hurting Amy and herself. Her own stupid heart's fault.
Finally a siren-blasting ambulance followed by a fire truck streaked down the road and braked in front of the property. Attendants tumbled from vehicles and followed Gretchen halfway up the hill while she filled them in on Eula's health history as best she could. Then she turned back reluctantly, to wait with Amy at the house while they saw to Eula's injuries.
Once they got Eula stabilized on the gurney and brought her down to the back porch, she adamantly refused to go any farther with them.
Daniel moved into their midst, and bent to stroke her forehead. “Everything's going to be fine. They're taking you to the hospital to make sure you're all right. You have to be back soon, because I plan on claiming the first dance with you at the festival. Okay?"
Her eyes opened, and she focused on him. Her lips trembled. “Okay,” she said, in a reedy voice. Her eyes watered. “Okay, Isaiah."
She closed her eyes again, and as the rescue workers spirited her away to the hospital, with Cile riding along, Amy began to cry.
Daniel picked her up. Staring hard into her watery eyes, he said, “It's okay. She isn't hurt and they'll take care of her."
Her lips trembled. “Will they give her a shot?"
"If she needs it."
She wrinkled her nose.
He mimicked the action. “Me, too."
Gretchen smiled. He sure knew how to soothe both a worried old woman and a scared little girl. Catching his attention, she said, “Will you drive me to the hospital?"
"Sure.” He looked down at Amy. “What about Little Bit?"
She took Amy's hand. “Wanna go play at Crystal and BJ's?"
"Yep."
So off they all went.
Once they'd seen Eula in her room and were convinced she was well cared for, Daniel drove Gretchen and Cile back to the farm. They stood on the porch and talked a while. Gretchen leaned heavily against the railing, drained of strength after the nerve-fraught day.
When Cile went inside to answer the phone, Daniel moved to Gretchen's side. Pressing his warm palm atop her fingers clamped to the railing, he murmured, “She's in safe hands now."
"No thanks to us,” she muttered, blinking back the sudden dampness blurring her vision.
He shifted beside her. “Why do you say that? You called 9-1-1 and they came."
"We shouldn't have left her after Lions’ Den."
"We didn't know she had a problem or we wouldn't have.” He leaned forward, as if to catch her gaze, but she stared down at the boxwoods lining the front of the porch.
"Come on, Gretchen. Don't over-think this.” He rubbed his palm across her knuckles. The gesture seemed so easy for him, but sent unbidden shivers of delight through her.
She pulled her hand out from under his. “Don't."
"Don't what? Don't concern myself with your feelings? Don't touch you?"
"Just, don't."
He snorted. “Whatever.” When he shifted a
way from her, the air current chilled.
Her heart beat heavily in her chest. What was she doing? He probably had no idea what he'd done, and the truth was, he hadn't done anything. Nothing but be attractive and sexy, caring and strong. She was the one starting to feel comfortable with him. She was getting too close and too involved.
The screen door screeched open.
"That was Aunt Eula's friend, Martha,” Cile said, rejoining them. “She said she's been after my aunt to go to the doctor for at least a month now, but she refused.” Shaking her head, she sat down hard on the porch's top step. Her lower lip trembled, and she dipped her chin, as if to hide her true feelings. “Why does she have to be so hard-headed?"
Gretchen slipped down beside her, wrapped an arm across her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
"She's been having these spells where she's confused.” Cile rested her head against Gretchen's shoulder. “It happens one day, and the next, she seems fine. I begged her to go to the doctor, too."
"Why won't she go?” Daniel asked, leaning against the porch support.
Cile shrugged. She sent Gretchen a half-smile. “You remember when her stubborn streak first showed itself, don't you?"
She nodded, smiling. “Daniel might want to hear it, though, since she called him ‘Isaiah.'” She wasn't sure why Eula had called him by her husband's name, but it probably had something to do with his staying at her side and murmuring words of assurance, his dark gaze filled with concern.
"Eula's dad was the preacher here,” Cile began, her attention focused on Daniel. “He was really strict.” She pulled her knees up under her chin. “Anyway, Aunt Eula fell in love with this guy, Isaiah. But he wasn't good enough for the Miller family and their Quaker background."
Daniel shifted. “Why not?"
Cile's eyes danced with humor, reflecting Gretchen's own amusement. “He was the son of the woman who owned the strip club off the highway a few miles out of town."
He let out a low whistle.
"Eula met him at the lake on the Miller property one day. She secretly enjoyed an occasional skinny-dip down there. He'd happened by for the same purpose.” Mirth lit her expression.
"It was Preacher Miller's worst nightmare. He'd never forgiven ‘that heathen woman,’ he called her, for making him baptize the boy ‘Isaiah.’ Everyone around here always thought she had something on him, to get him to do it."