The Bride Takes a Powder

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  "Are you okay?" he repeated, taking her lips fiercely, very aware of his morning wood and that after a long dry spell he had somewhere very delectable to put it.

  Norah fit him.

  She responded to his kiss, rolling him onto his back. "Wait here a minute. I have to go to the bathroom. It's morning, you know." She slipped off the bed and treated him to the lovely view of her world-class ass as she swayed it out of the bedroom.

  The incessant newly activated greed of his hard-on took over, and he met her at the door coming back. The look on her face when he grabbed her around the waist and crushed her to him was priceless. Tenderly brushing her lips with his, he noticed the delicious smell of mint. He should have brushed his teeth too, he supposed, but it seemed his cock couldn't wait. Turning her, he pressed his front to her back and his wood nestled against her soft, silky heavenly ass.

  With a sigh, her head dropped onto his shoulder, and she tipped her face to kiss him under the chin. He clasped her breasts and plucked her nipples, watching them rise and harden into deep raspberry buds.

  "Are you out of rubbers?"

  His cock flexed at her soft shy question. Yes! "I don't think so. Why do you ask, sweetheart?"

  She shimmied her ass against him. "Well, if you don't want to…"

  "Get on that bed, baby, on your hands and knees," he ordered gruffly. She hesitated. He figured what she was afraid of. "It's all right, sweetheart." He'd never taken a woman's ass before and wasn't going to start right now. "Not that. But go." He frog-marched her to the bed, and she stretched out on her stomach.

  Kneeling above her, he pulled her bottom up. His shaft ached like the devil, his balls were already retreating into his groin. Damn, he'd just had her for hours, and he still wanted. Just take it easy, boy. You'll get what you want. Bent over like that, she looked so vulnerable. She had no control. Oh, she could stop him with a word or gesture, but she wouldn't. She trusted him. His heart sang. She believed in him.

  He slid his palms down her spine to her round pink cheeks, caressing them, subtly brushing his thumbs down the center. Just because he wouldn't take her that way didn't mean he didn't want to see that mysterious secret hole. "Baby," he rasped. He heard her moans, felt her body quivering, glanced up to see her head rolling against the pillow. Leaning forward over her, he cupped her dangling breasts. Her groans heightened, muffled in the pillow, her ass pressing more tightly back against his cock.

  "Damn, baby, you make me want you over and over." Kissing her shoulder, he pulled back, slid his fingers down to her passage, pressing and caressing the weeping opening until he had her shimmying and sobbing for him to do something, damn it! She was so wet as he pushed teasingly into her highly sensitive, nerve rich sheath.

  "I can't wait," he growled. Nudging her thighs farther apart, he pulled her higher and thrust. Thrust hard until he felt the hot wet tissues of her sex against his thighs. "Damn," he growled. "Rubber." Pulling out, he cast about wildly for condoms. There were none left. "Shit, I thought I still had some."

  "Please, Mike. I'm all right. You're all right. I'm on the pill. Come back…"

  In that instant his head exploded. For one second he'd been bareback inside her. Every guy's wish and now it was granted to him. The sensation of flesh in flesh. "Yes, baby, I'm all right." Then he was back, hard as he'd ever been in his life and as deep as it was possible to be.

  Faster and harder, he took her with a voracious appetite he'd never known, gripping her hips to keep her in place. Her pillow-muffled shrieks made him feel like a king, a sexy hot king. Thank God she'd buried her face in the pillow.

  His climax came fast, too fast, and her muscles clutched and convulsed around his shaft. "Jesus fucking Christ!" With a loud groan, he collapsed on top of her, their heavy gasping the only sounds in the room. Then she toppled, bringing him down too. It took a huge effort for him to finally disengage, pulling his cock from her, still hard, flushed dark with infused blood, and glistening from her juices. He rolled to his back and lay there with what undoubtedly had to be a shit-eating grin.

  "Don't look so smug," she warned, her voice rusty.

  "Smug! I'm not smug. I'm satisfied," he mumbled, making the extreme effort to roll to his side, wrap an arm around her, and pull her against his body. "Aren't you?"

  She touched his cheek, lightly rubbing his morning bristles with the backs of her fingers. "So manly."

  "All the better to please you, m'dear."

  "Oh, you please me."

  Her sigh told him everything. "Damn it," he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I have to go. That meeting with Moira."

  She watched him dress. "Call me the minute it's over. Everything will be all right. I believe in you, Mike."

  It hurt to leave her. He cursed all the way back to the bar, because he had to go home and change for the meeting. She was amazing. A shrieker. He smiled at that memory. They'd both had to cover her mouth at various times to quiet her. His apartment above the bar was a possible location for next time since no one else lived in the building.

  ***

  His mind was still whirling when he sat down for his interview with Moira. They both needed to keep their personal relationship out of this, one of the hazards of living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone else, and it was hard to keep the proper distance in a situation like this.

  "I'm recording this interview," Moira began.

  "Okay." What else could he say? It wasn't like he could refuse.

  Then she recited the proposed indictment and noted that he was one of the teachers mentioned.

  Furious and hurt to the quick, he stated emphatically, "For the record, I was not involved. What are the dates of these cheating parties you talked about last night?"

  "There are six dates beginning last November and continuing through two weeks ago."

  "Two weeks ago?" Not that long ago. Damn! Why did I not ever notice anything?

  "Yes." After listing the dates, she asked, "Can you account for your whereabouts on those dates?"

  "Five of them I know for sure I was at the bar, and many people there would be witnesses." The sixth date was a Saturday in November, and he didn't recall what happened that day. Sometimes on Saturdays he worked out, drove around the countryside, played basketball. "The last one I'll have to think about." He just couldn't remember on that one.

  "Think about it, Mike, and let me know as soon as possible." Moira ended the interview, turned off the recorder, and got personal. "Mike, I'm sorry about this. I know you and trust that you weren't involved, but the accusation was made. I'm required to investigate it and can't play favorites."

  "I know, Moira." They shook hands, and on the way out he scowled at the others in the waiting room. Some of them might be innocent also, but one or more lied about him. He'd thought they were all friends or at least friendly coworkers. It disturbed him that he'd been such a trusting, oblivious fool about the whole thing.

  Leaving the courthouse, he ran into Marc Rahn, Sheriff Rahn that is. Best friends in high school and football teammates, they'd lost touch with each other when Marc left town after his parents had been killed in a car accident. After graduation, he'd joined the Marines and made it a career for ten years with several deployments to the Middle East.

  "Hey, Marc, how're you doing?" The two men shook hands. "How's Phoebs?"

  "She's great. A little ornery though. She feels immense but has no idea how beautiful she looks pregnant."

  "I'm so happy for you, buddy."

  "Thanks but I'm a little nervous. I wouldn't say this to anyone else, but the baby will be so little. What if I drop it or leave it somewhere?"

  Mike laughed and gave Marc a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You won't do any of that. You'll be a great dad, don't you worry."

  Marc just smiled, then turned serious. "What's going on with this?" With a nod of his head he indicated the courthouse. "How can anyone say you were involved?"

  "I don't know. I wish I knew who accused me."

  "Y
eah. I know how you feel."

  Marc's folks had been killed by a former B Falls cop when Marc was a teenager. Butch Wilcox had run the Rahns off the road one winter night and into the Falls River. Butch's father had been buying up stores, the Rahns hardware store being one, to build the resort. Mr. Rahn didn't want to sell so Butch thought to speed up the process by getting rid of him. The whole thing was thought, for ten years, to be an accident until Marc came home to find the truth once and for all. It turned out that a mentally ill Butch almost killed Phoebe after admitting to his crime. He was now incarcerated in a prison mental ward with little hope of getting out.

  "I'm sure you'll be vindicated."

  "There were six dates of cheating parties. Five of them I was at the bar. The sixth I'm going to have to think about."

  "Were you with me?"

  "No. It was a Saturday morning. I'll just have to look over my records and calendar. It was four months ago." Mike shook his head.

  "By the way, what do you think of Norah Ballard?" Marc asked.

  Mike wanted to smirk and crow about the woman he'd just had hot and dirty sex with. But he shrugged, not ready to let Marc or anyone else know how deeply he was already involved with the runaway bride. "I don't know what her plans are or how long she'll be in B Falls."

  "Then you didn't see the news report on the weekend?"

  "Unh, yeah, I did."

  Marc nodded. "Okay. If you need anything, you let me know, won't you?"

  Mike silently thanked Marc for dropping the subject. One scandal was enough for now. "Sure, and thanks, Marc. I appreciate it. Give my best to Phoebs. She's the best jazz singer around."

  Marc slapped him on the back and gave a nod of agreement before he climbed the steps and entered the Court House.

  Mike sauntered over to Hickory Street and walked south to the river. The water was getting higher and higher, almost over the banks, almost to flood stage. Some of the businesses along the river had started to store sand bags. Ollie's wasn't located directly on the river, but it was upland a little with a hundred yards of open ground leading to the banks.

  "Dad." He found Ollie in the kitchen cleaning the griddle and changing the oil in the fryer. "We'd better get our sandbags filled and ready to go. The river's almost at flood stage."

  "I've ordered the sand to be delivered this afternoon."

  "Good, you're ahead of me. I guess I'm distracted."

  "No wonder, son. The truth will come out, but do you think you should get a lawyer?"

  Mike grinned wryly. "That's what Norah says."

  "Well, she's a lawyer. Maybe her advice is spot on."

  "I suppose I should, but it just feels defeatist, like it would show I'm afraid."

  "I'm sure you are afraid, Mike, and you should be worried, but you need to protect yourself too."

  "Yeah, okay, Dad. Ben Cartwright is new in town and has a good reputation." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hell of a name."

  "Yeah. Bet he doesn't get kidded much." Ollie chuckled. "Isn't he dating Moira?"

  "Not dating, as far as I know but he is interested in her. It's pretty hard in a small town to find someone who doesn't have a relationship with someone else."

  "Why don't you call and make an appointment with him?"

  "I'll think about it, Dad." He wondered what Norah was doing. Even though his career was in disarray, he couldn't get her out of his mind. His skin heated, his cock hardened every time he thought about their lovemaking last night. Lord, she was sweet and sexy, but it was possible he was only a distraction while she sorted out her real life back in Chicago. Maybe it wouldn't be wise to get any more involved with her.

  Ah yes, wise words. Too bad he didn't listen to his own warnings.

  Chapter Eight

  After Mike left, Norah wallowed in bed a while longer, dozing. She could barely move her limbs anyway, and more significantly she didn't want to give up the rich musky scent of their lovemaking. Smirking, she thought that would be a sought-after scent for a perfumery to create. And she almost forgot to compare Mike with Garrett. It was becoming less of a shock to her that the memory of Garrett was fading. And there was less guilt.

  Finally realizing she was hungry, she stretched luxuriously, got out of bed, and sauntered to the bathroom for a shower. With nothing in the apartment she especially wanted to eat, she grabbed her purse, umbrella, and a book to head to Java Joe's. But she stopped for a moment to look at the river. The rain had let up for the moment, but toward the west, gray bands of dirty-looking thunderheads rolled across the sky. She'd never seen so much rain, more than any other spring she could remember. The river was seeping over the shoreline in some places and flowing heavily over in lower spots.

  Just before she turned into the shop, from the corner of her eye she spotted a very familiar black Jag turn the corner from the highway and onto the street right in front of her. "Shit!"

  Garrett.

  After the turn, he glanced up and spotted her.

  Caught. Damn. Obviously her parents told him where she was. Why would they betray her like that?

  She charged toward the car as he pulled into a parking space. Not waiting for him to emerge, she approached the driver's side and hissed, "What in God's name are you doing here? Just stay in the car and drive back to Chicago."

  "I'm not going anywhere."

  "How did you find me? Did my folks tell you?"

  "Yes." He climbed out of the car shoving her back with the door. "I told your father that I should know where you are."

  "No apology for humiliating yourself. And me?" He did put on a sheepish expression, briefly firming his lips and glancing to the ground, an expression she'd never seen before on him. He was such an arrogant prick. Could he actually be repentant?

  "We were just having fun. It was my bachelor party."

  Nope, not repentant. "Fun? Getting drunk and undressed and arrested?"

  "How was I to know there'd be a raid?"

  "Well, maybe if you'd acted with some decorum in the first place, this wouldn't have happened."

  "Decorum? Are you kidding me? Where do you hear words like that? Romance novels?"

  "I haven't read them in years. And this has nothing to do with that! What did your partners say about your…" She waved her hand in the air. "…your escapade?" Now he did appear a little sick.

  "Nothing," he claimed.

  "Bullshit!" Then she noticed passersby were staring. She didn't want her personal business being broadcast through B Falls. Glancing around for a more private place—across the street the park looked empty.

  "Where are you staying?"

  "You're kidding, right? I'm not taking you there."

  "You can pack up your stuff and come back to Chicago with me."

  "Oh, that's not going to happen, Garrett. I'll be staying here. We're over. I left the engagement ring in my apartment. And, by the way, in case you're wondering, you didn't give me anything nasty."

  He put his hands on his hips and glared off into the distance. "I'm glad about that, Nor."

  "You know, I'm the one who will have to return the gifts and write the notes. I can't see you doing that."

  They reached an empty bench, and she perched at one end. He paced back and forth in front of her.

  Glancing around with a look of distaste on his face, he fumed, "What do you see in this pit of a town?"

  She'd thought for a moment that he regretted his actions, but he sounded back to normal. For him. "Don't you dare say anything about it. This is a nice town with nice people."

  "It's a dinky backward burg."

  "Just go back home."

  "I think I'll stick around a little longer and see what the attraction is."

  No. She'd found herself defending the town. She'd always considered herself a big city girl, but she'd never felt so relaxed as she did in B Falls. All the changes had her confused about what she wanted in her life. Would she really go back to Chicago?

  "We would have been married and on our honeymoon right
now if you hadn't run away."

  "I can't believe you. Damn it, Garrett, you were the one who screwed this up."

  "It was just a bachelor party," he whined.

  "Were you cheating on me all this time?"

  He took his time responding to that. The look he gave her, eyes narrowed, lips pursing, started as scathing and turned sheepish. He opened his mouth to speak.

  "Don't bother answering. I just don't care anymore. Now, just go back home. We're done."

  He turned abruptly back toward his car. Good. He's leaving. She followed slowly, relieved that this was over.

  At his car, over his shoulder he said, "I'm checking in at the resort I saw advertised coming into town although it's probably not as good as it looks on the signs."

  What the hell? She didn't want him hanging around town, didn't want him to meet Mike, didn't want him to have a chance to make fun of…of anything.

  "After I check in, why don't you show me around this paragon of a town of yours."

  "Why are you doing this, Garrett? You're not interested in Birchwood Falls or me, not really."

  "Norah!"

  Oh, God, can this get any worse? She didn't want Mike and Garrett to meet. Too late. Mike reached them, his gaze homing in on the other man, his body tense as if sensing the hostility.

  "I thought you'd like some lunch." He stood his ground under Garrett's withering stare.

  "Mike, this is Garrett Dunleith. Garrett, Mike Banning."

  Garrett looked like a shabby imitation of a man compared to Mike, who she doubted would ever cheat on his woman. Am I his woman?

  The two men shook hands. Mike knew immediately who this was and why Norah seemed under so much stress. "Welcome to Birchwood Falls, Garrett. Did you come to visit Norah?" That was lame, but he didn't intend to lose Norah to this jackass.

  "Yes," Garrett responded quickly.