by Rita Herron
Taylor had crawled beneath the covers and was going down on him. Had his throbbing length inside her mouth, wetting it with her tongue, sucking it, applying pressure…
He threw the covers back with a guttural groan, the sight of her long blond hair spilled across his bare belly sending a shot of pure lust through him. She trailed her tongue along his length, teasing the tip, her other hand massaging the insides of his thighs, stoking him to degrees of pain-pleasure that made her name rip from deep in his throat.
If she continued, he was going to lose it.
“Taylor, honey, you have to stop….”
She lifted her head, her eyes hooded and dark with desire, and his excitement skyrocketed. “No,” she said softly.
He shook his head as she closed her mouth around him again. Her warm wet mouth enflamed him, and he clenched the sheets, struggling for control. But she was determined to torture him. She sucked him long and hard, riding up and down until he forced her to stop.
“I want inside you,” he said gruffly.
She laughed, reached for a condom and ripped it open. They barely got it on before she crawled on top of him and straddled him. With one hand she guided his throbbing member inside her. Her beautiful breasts fell heavy in front of him and he leaned on his elbows, biting at her nipples, licking and drawing one into his mouth as she moved up and down on him. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, crying his name as spasms made her insides clench tighter around him.
Unable to stand the tension any longer, he threw his head back, gripped her hips and they found a frenzied passionate rhythm that sent them both over the edge together.
Her breathing erratic, she collapsed on top of him, their sweat mingling, their bodies still joined, and he closed his arms around her. Holy hell, he could get used to waking up like this.
No, he couldn’t fantasize about other mornings with Taylor on top of him.
“That was so wonderful.” Taylor pressed a kiss to his chest, stroking him.
“I thought I was dreaming when I woke up,” he mumbled gruffly.
She laughed against his chest. “See how good we are together, Hayes?”
Something about her tone flamed his desire again, but fear also darted through him. He couldn’t let her think this was anything but sex. That he would stick around after the investigation.
He’d go back to his world and she would return to hers. He wouldn’t allow himself to think otherwise or to offer her hope of more.
Margaret’s wedding was Saturday. With Miles in jail, and loose ends still unclear, he’d take her away to his place until the wedding. Maybe by then they’d know for sure if the danger to her was over.
When she saw how he lived, his lifestyle, she’d realize that the two of them weren’t suited at all.
Except in bed…and there he’d found a slice of heaven.
WHILE HAYES SHOWERED, Taylor slid from bed and prepared breakfast, then placed it on a bed tray and carried it back to her bedroom. When Hayes emerged from the shower, his hair damp, a towel knotted around his waist, her mouth watered.
“That looks delicious,” he said.
“So do you.”
His gaze locked with hers, heat and memories of their lovemaking lighting the flames of desire again. But his stomach growled, and she put her needs on hold and patted the bed.
“Sit and eat, Hayes. You’re going to need your energy again later.”
A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Is that so?”
She nodded, plucked a fresh strawberry from the tray and offered it to him. He sucked it into his mouth, licking the tip of her fingers when he was finished, then he joined her on the bed and they devoured the omelet and muffins.
She raked her hands over his chest. “Now, I want you again.”
He gripped her hands. “Taylor, Egan and Brody are going to interrogate Miles today and hope to tie up loose ends. Why don’t we ride out to my place, get out of Cantara Hills till the dust settles?”
“We’ll be back for Margaret’s rehearsal dinner?”
“Yeah. But the press will probably be all over Miles’s arrest and will hound you. I thought it might do you good to get away.”
Her heart stuttered. “Oh, goodness. I’m not ready for the media circus. Not yet….”
He nodded. “Then pack a bag.”
She grabbed his hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Hayes. I’m looking forward to seeing your home.”
Affection flickered in his eyes, and he twisted his mouth, uncomfortable. “I’ll call Brody and tell him where we’ll be while you get dressed. Oh, and pack casual, jeans if you have them. My place is country, not country club.”
She winced at his comment, but blew it off. Did he think she didn’t like the country? That she had to have a mansion?
She kissed him, then hurried to the shower, determined to prove him wrong. Hayes must be starting to have feelings for her, otherwise he wouldn’t invite her to his home.
She couldn’t think of anything nicer than leaving town with him, getting away from the ugliness of the investigation. A place where no one could bother them, and she and Hayes could make love day and night.
Where she could prove to him they had a future.
HAYES BRACED HIMSELF for Taylor’s reaction as they drove to his cabin. Rustic would best describe the home he’d built for himself. He liked the open space, pasture for his horses, the huge ancient trees with their gnarled branches, the stream where he could fish and the peace and quiet of the land.
There was no sauna, outdoor swimming pool, marble in the bathroom nor gourmet kitchen. A woodstove served as the main heat source in the winter although he had installed central air for the unbearably hot summers.
He’d added the front porch at the last minute so he could enjoy coffee and morning sunrises.
As soon as he pulled down the three-mile drive to his secluded property, Taylor perked up, a smile spreading across her face that shocked him and caught him off guard.
“Oh my God, this is breathtaking, Hayes. I can’t believe you own it.”
He swallowed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s not fancy, Taylor.”
He maneuvered the gravel road, still expecting her to look down on his cabin, but she “oohed” and “aahed” as he parked, her exuberance making his heart pick up a notch.
“This is wonderful, Hayes. So secluded and quiet and, oh, look at that stream in back and your horses.” She clapped her hands, unfastened her seat belt, jumped out and jogged over to the gate.
Apache trotted straight to her like a pathetic love-struck male, whinnied and nuzzled up to her as she petted him.
Hayes grimaced. He was in deep trouble, had vastly underestimated Taylor Landis.
Tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he loped over to the fence, glaring at Apache.
“He’s gorgeous,” Taylor said, her face glowing with excitement. “Can we ride while we’re here?”
“You ride?” he croaked, then figured she rode dressage, show horses if anything, not trail riding.
“I love to ride,” she said with such a softness to her voice that her sincerity rang through loud and clear. “Each year, I host a summer camp for handicapped and underprivileged children at a ranch.” She turned to him, eyes sparkling with emotion. “Maybe this next year, you can come and visit with the children.”
His gut clenched, emotions that he didn’t want hitting him. He’d thought Taylor a rich snotty heiress, yet she offered more than money to her charities. She gave her time and her heart.
A heart that he was beginning to fall for.
He sucked in a sharp breath. Remembered how he’d awakened this morning with her loving him. Remembered the delicious way she tasted and how sweetly she’d offered herself to him.
Remembered that someone wanted to kill her.
That would not happen. If it did, it would be over his dead body.
Chapter Nineteen
Taylor spent the next few days in total bliss. Two days of
relaxation, picnics outside, wading in the stream, riding across his property on horseback, feeding each other in bed and making love.
He was surprised when she’d saddled her own horse, and even more so at the way she settled into his home. It was cozy and comfortable, with wood floors, braided rugs, a fireplace and handmade quilts on his massive oak bed. He’d built most of the furniture himself including the rocking chair by the fireplace and the porch swing where they sipped their coffee.
All the place needed was a cat curled in the corner and a couple of children running in the yard. A little boy with dark hair and big dark eyes….
Their last night together, their lovemaking felt even more frantic as they both felt the clock counting down the minutes until they had to return to Cantara Hills, to reality and the investigation.
He took her against the wall, on the floor, outside on his back porch with the stars twinkling above the Texas sky, his horses prancing across the open pasture and coyotes howling in the distance.
During the ride back to her estate, Taylor broached the subject of Margaret again. “Please give her a chance,” she said. “She cares about you, Hayes.”
“But she still hasn’t told me my father’s name,” he said bitterly.
“She will, Hayes, just give her time.”
He grunted, and Taylor bit her lip, the rest of the ride strained and silent.
Finally, as they pulled into her drive, Hayes cleared his throat. “I talked to Brody this morning while you showered. Your father showed up with a lawyer. Miles admits to the shooting at the party, but not to Morris’s murder or the pool attack. We did find your charm bracelet at his house, though.”
She sighed. “He knew that would hurt me.”
He nodded. “But this means that you could still be in danger, Taylor.”
Fear slithered through her. “Then you won’t leave yet?”
He studied her, his expression indicating that he heard the double meaning underlying her words.
“No, not yet.”
She nodded, a sharp pain clawing at her heart. She’d intended to tell him that she loved him at the ranch, but had decided to hold back, to show him instead of saying the words. And she thought she had.
She only hoped it was enough.
“What time is the rehearsal dinner?” Hayes asked.
“Seven.” She climbed from the car. She had a million things to do before then.
The rest of the day flew by. She had lunch with Margaret and an appointment to pick up her dress. Hayes tagged along, looking awkward and quiet but so damn handsome that she could barely keep her eyes off of him.
Margaret traced a finger along her water glass. “Last night I told Devon that I’m meeting with Hayes’s father to tell him about Hayes.”
“How did Devon react?” Taylor asked.
“Not well. He begged me to reconsider.” Anguish laced Margaret’s voice. “But I think he should know, and Hayes has a right to know his birth father’s identity.”
“Devon probably just feels threatened,” Taylor said softly.
Margaret’s face looked pinched. “I know. But it’s not like Hayes’s father wants me. He’s married.”
Taylor sighed. “I’m sorry. Are you going to see his father before the wedding?”
Worry filled Margaret’s eyes as she glanced at Hayes where he stood by the wall of the restaurant. “Right after I leave here. I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Good luck, Margaret.” Taylor squeezed her hand. “And call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
Taylor murmured a silent prayer for her friend as Margaret left. She still hoped Hayes would come around. Maybe if she and he stayed together…
If they married…
With visions of the two of them celebrating their own ceremony on his ranch in her head, she rushed to her spa appointment. Her father phoned during her massage and she called him back on the way to the hair salon. “Are you all right, Taylor?”
She bit her lip at his concerned tone. “Yes, Dad.”
“I can’t believe Miles tried to hurt you.”
Tears blurred her eyes. “It was awful. He needs help.”
“And he’ll get it. But he may have to spend some time in jail to learn his lesson.”
At least he wasn’t going to let Miles off this time.
“Do you want me to come to the house tonight, Taylor?”
“No. Ranger Keller is there.”
“He’d better take care of you,” her father said.
She smiled, although she wondered how her father would react if he knew about them.
After she hung up, she met with the hairstylist. Hayes waited in the lobby, his dark look imposing, reminding her that someone still wanted her dead.
He also looked bored and disgusted, triggering anxiety to sprout again in her belly. Was she being foolish to hope that he loved her?
As she dressed for the rehearsal dinner that evening, anxiety riddled her. Hayes met her at the bottom of the steps wearing his Stetson and jeans as if to remind her again that they belonged to different worlds, that he wasn’t here as a guest but as her bodyguard. She had fit into his world fine.
Would he even try to fit into hers?
She struggled to stifle her doubts as he drove her to the church for the rehearsal. The stained-glass cathedral with its ornate windows and candelabras looked stunning with candles burning, but Margaret acted nervous and fidgety, and she and Devon both looked strained as they went through the motions of the rehearsal.
Twice she caught Hayes watching Margaret with an odd look in his eyes, and she wondered if he might be softening.
She stumbled, the strap of her heel slipping free. He caught her, and she gazed into his eyes, heat rippling between them as she recalled their erotic lovemaking. His hands stroking and touching her, his mouth loving her body from her head to her toes, the two of them riding each other day and night.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.
She licked her lips. “Yes. Just hot.”
A smile twitched at his mouth. “It is hot in here,” he agreed in a low voice.
She smiled and he knelt and fastened her shoe for her, his finger tracing a path along her bare toes that sent a chill of longing through her. “Later,” she whispered.
He stared at her, but he didn’t answer.
When they arrived at the country club, a host of cars filed down the drive, and two reporters with cameras stood on the entrance steps. Margaret Hathaway’s marriage was society news, especially with Devon running for city council and Kenneth in attendance. Camera lights flashed as Devon and Margaret exited their limo, and they paused to pose for photos and to address the reporters.
Taylor hung back in the car, allowing them their moment, and curious about how Margaret’s talk with Hayes’s father went.
Finally satisfied they’d given the press what they’d come for, one of the reporters moved to interview other guests.
Hayes accepted the parking stub from the valet and she climbed out. He circled around the car to accompany her, but just as they reached the top of the steps and neared the entrance, the other reporter zoomed toward her. Cameras flashed, capturing her on Hayes’s arm and she smiled, but felt Hayes stiffen.
“Miss Landis, Connie Winstead. We heard your brother was arrested for attempted murder.”
Hayes cleared his throat, but Taylor spoke up, aware she had to deal with the fallout. “Yes, that’s true. Unfortunately, my brother has some emotional difficulties. The family is going to do all we can to support his recovery.”
“Is it true that Texas Rangers have been assigned to protect you?” The reporter pivoted toward Hayes with a raised brow.
Taylor swallowed but kept her smile intact. “Yes, temporarily.”
Connie leaned closer with a wink. “We also heard that the two of you went away together. Give us the scoop, Miss Landis. We heard two of Cantara Hills’ finest residents have become engaged to rangers. Is there a r
omantic relationship between you and Ranger Keller?”
Taylor barely restrained a gasp. Hayes stiffened, looking intimidating and furious, while she glanced up and saw Margaret watching her with interest. She couldn’t very well divulge such personal information in front of the press.
“Ranger Keller simply escorted me to a safe place to allow me to get away for a few days.”
A devious look sparkled in Connie’s eyes. “So you’re not having an affair with Ranger Keller?”
“Certainly not,” Taylor said matter-of-factly. “Now, please excuse me. This is Miss Hathaway’s rehearsal dinner.”
At that moment, Kenneth and Tammy Sutton rolled up, someone shrieked about their arrival and the reporters darted toward them.
She swept forward, and Hayes followed, his expression stoic. Taylor pulled Hayes into the entryway and headed to the ladies’ room to recover.
HAYES FISTED HIS HANDS by his sides to control his raging temper. He’d never been rough with a woman before but he’d wanted to grab that damn woman reporter and shake her senseless. And Taylor…he’d been poleaxed by the reporter’s questions, but she had remained cool, aloof, had replied without even thinking about her answer.
Because she’d never admit to her friends and social circle that she’d stooped low enough to bed a cowboy.
All that lovemaking this weekend, those sweet smiles, intimate moments, how she’d pretended to like his cabin and ranch…she’d just been slumming.
“Hayes, I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting the press to be interested in me tonight.”
“Why not?” he growled. “You’re high-society news, Taylor. You always will be in the spotlight.”
She frowned at his cutting tone. “That may be true, but I don’t like my personal life plastered across the papers for everyone in the world to read.”
“No, I don’t imagine you’d want people knowing you slummed with me.”
Her eyes widened, anger sparking. “Slummed?”