by Lori Foster
"Shit." He turned to Casey with accusation. "So where is it?"
Casey blinked in incomprehension. "Where is what?"
As if speaking to an idiot, Damon enunciated each word. "The coffee?"
Casey shrugged, but offered helpfully, "They keep a pot brewing in the lobby."
"Right. In the lobby. And here I had the impression you knew something about women." Shaking his head at Casey in a pitying way, Damon turned to Emma. "Just hang on, doll. I'll run down and snag you a cup."
On a normal day Emma would have thanked him and dropped back into bed. But this wasn't a normal day. Today, Casey stood in her temporary bedroom looking and smelling too sexy for a sane woman's health and she wasn't properly dressed. "It's okay. B.B. needs to go out too, so I might as well get the coffee myself." And then she wouldn't be left closed up in the motel room with Casey.
Apparently stunned, Damon blinked at her. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure I'm going to smack you if you don't stop pushing me."
"All right, all right." Damon held up both hands, which should have been comical given that he wore only print boxers. "Hey, what do I know about a woman's needs? They're ever shifting and changing, right? One day coffee is a necessity before she can open her eyes. The next, no problem, she'll get it herself."
Emma turned away and stomped to the dresser to snatch up her jeans. Ignoring both men, she trailed into the bathroom and shut the door. She didn't exactly slam it, but her irritation definitely showed.
She heard Casey whistle low. "Wow. Is she always like that in the morning?"
"Be warned – yes."
Casey chuckled, but Damon, clearly disgruntled, said, "I wouldn't if I was you. What you just saw is nothing compared to how grouchy she'll get if she doesn't get a cup of coffee real soon."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You do that."
Emma brushed her teeth while praying that Damon would now go back to bed. He did, but not without a parting shot.
"I usually fetch her a cup before I wake her up, especially when she hasn't had enough sleep. But since you did the deed this morning, and at such an ungodly hour at that, you can deal with the consequences all alone."
She heard Damon's door close, then heard Casey mutter to B.B., "You won't let her hurt me, will you, buddy?"
B.B. whined.
Emma exited the bathroom. She slipped her feet into her sneakers, latched B.B.'s leash to his collar and stepped around Casey to head out the door. Obedient whenever it suited him, B.B. followed, and, without a word, Casey fell into step behind him. She'd only gone down three steps, her destination the lobby where fresh coffee waited, when she heard Casey begin humming some tune that she didn't recognize.
He knew she slept without a man. Emma wondered what he intended to do with that knowledge, because she knew Casey too well to mistake him now. He was up to something, and she dreaded the coming battle.
It was herself she'd have to fight, of course. She'd never been able to resist Casey, not then, and not now. Damn.
BEFORE SHE COULD HEAD for the lobby, Casey caught Emma's arm. "Take B.B. to the bushes, then park yourself at the picnic table. I'll get the coffee."
She looked ready to argue, so Casey reasoned with her. "You can't take the dog inside, and he's starting to look desperate. Really, fetching you a cup of coffee won't tax me. I'll even get one for myself. Okay?"
She glanced at the dog, who did indeed appear urgent, then nodded. "All right. Lots of sugar and a smidgen of cream."
"Got it." Casey sauntered away with a smile on his face. He'd spent the night thinking about Emma, and being sexually frustrated as a result. He couldn't say what he'd expected this morning when he'd knocked on her door, but the picture she'd presented had taken him by surprise.
Soft. That was the word that most often came to mind when he thought of Emma. Soft eyes, soft heart, soft breasts and hips and thighs...
This morning, still sleepy and wrapped in a bedspread, she'd been so soft she'd damn near melted his heart on the spot, along with all the plans he'd so meticulously devised throughout the long night. He'd taken one look at her and wanted to lead her right back to bed.
It had been doubly hard to give up that idea once he knew Damon had a separate room.
Seeing her sleek, silky hair tangled around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, her eyes a little dazed had made him think of a woman's expression right before she came. Emma's very kissable mouth had been slightly puffy, and her lips had parted in surprise when she saw him at the door, adding to the fantasy.
Her legs...well, Emma had always had a killer ass and gorgeous legs. That hadn't changed. As a perpetually horny teen, resisting her had been his biggest struggle. As an adult, it wasn't much easier. In fact, he had no intention of resisting her now.
Unfortunately, she'd pulled on jeans rather than the ultrashort shorts he remembered in their youth, and her legs were now well hidden. But she hadn't bothered with a bra yet. With each step she took, her breasts moved gently beneath the cotton of her T-shirt, and the faintest outline of her nipples showed through.
Casey's muscles tightened in anticipation of seeing her again and he snapped lids on three disposable cups of coffee then plucked up several packets of sugar, two stirrers and some little tubs of creamer. He stuffed them in his pockets. Balancing the hot cups between his hands, he shouldered the door open and started back to Emma.
In limp exhaustion, she rested at one of the aged wooden picnic tables that had always served as part of Mrs. Reider's small lot. Guests used the tables often, but this early in the day no one else intruded. Casey didn't make a sound as he approached, and Emma remained unaware of him.
She'd kicked off her shoes, and her legs were stretched out in front of her with her bare toes wiggling. Sunlight through elm leaves, shifting and changing with the careless breeze, dappled her upturned face.
The air this time of morning remained heavy with dew, rich with scents of the earth and trees. Emma sighed and her expression bespoke a peacefulness that made Casey smile from the inside out. He liked seeing Emma at peace. When she'd been younger, so often what he'd seen in her eyes was uncertainty, loneliness, even fear.
She spoke a moment to B.B., who sprawled out in the lush grass at her feet, then she reached up and lifted her hair off her nape. Casey stalled in appreciation of her feminine gesture. Even from her early teens, Emma had displayed an innate sensuality that drove every guy around her wild. She stretched her arms high, and her hair drifted free to resettle over her shoulders.
Damn. He absolutely could not get a boner in Mrs. Reider's motel lot.
Neither could he allow Emma to affect him this strongly. He had to remember that despite her appeal and everything he'd once felt – still felt – she'd walked out on him and hadn't bothered to get in touch in eight long years. And she hadn't come back for him now. If her father wasn't so sick, she wouldn't be here.
"Here's your coffee." His emotions in check, Casey took the last few remaining steps to her and set the cups on the tabletop. "I hope you haven't chewed off any tree bark or anything." He scattered the sugar packets and creamer beside the cups.
Eyes scrunched up because of the sun, Emma turned to him with a frown. "Damon exaggerated. I'm not that bad."
"If you say so." He smiled at her. "But remember, I witnessed you firsthand. For a minute there I expected to see smoke come out of your ears."
She looked ready to growl again, but restrained herself. "I hadn't had much sleep."
"I'm sorry I woke you."
"You don't look sorry."
Casey shrugged and continued to simile.
Emma considered him a long moment, then took the coffee and quickly doctored it to her specifications. The second she tipped the cup to her mouth, she moaned in bliss. "Oh God, I needed that." She took another long drink. "Perfect. Thank you."
Casey sipped his own coffee, prepared much like hers. "Not a morning person, huh?"
She shook her head. "
I'm barely civil in the morning. I've always been more a night owl."
He remembered that – and a whole lot more.
She didn't say anything else, made no effort toward casual conversation, which annoyed him. She sat with him, drank the coffee he'd brought to her, but kept him shut out.
To regain her attention, he touched the back of her hand with one fingertip. "I still think waking up with you would be fun."
Surprised by that comment, Emma froze for a good five seconds. Abruptly, she drained the rest of her cup and stood. She didn't look at him. "Thanks again ... for everything." She started to step away.
Casey moved so fast, she gasped. In less than a heartbeat he'd reached over the table and snatched her narrow wrists, shackling them in his hands. He stared into her mesmerizing, antagonistic brown eyes until the air around them fairly crackled.
"Don't go." Two simple words, but his heart pounded as he waited.
She looked undecided.
"I brought you another cup." Casey stroked the insides of her wrists with his thumbs, kept his tone easy, persuasive. "Sit with me, Emma. Talk to me."
He ignored the rise of her breasts as she slowly inhaled. Her hesitation was palpable, forcing him to think of more arguments, other stratagems, until she said, "Why?"
Sensing that she'd just relented, Casey relaxed. "Sit down and I'll tell you why."
With enough grumbling to wake the squirrels, she dropped into the seat. This time she slid her legs under the table and faced him with both elbows propped on the tabletop to hold her chin. "I'm waiting."
Casey took in her belligerent expression and swallowed his amusement. Not once in all the time he'd known her had Emma ever shown him disgruntlement. She'd shown him adolescent lust, feminine need, a few flirting smiles and occasionally her vulnerability.
It didn't make any sense, but he felt as if he'd just gained three giant steps forward. "Yeah. You know, I think I'll feel more secure if you drink the other cup of coffee first." He prepared it as he spoke, and handed it to her with a flourish.
She slanted him a look through her thick lashes. "With the way you've acted so far, you're probably right." She accepted the coffee and sipped. "You've been deliberately provoking."
Casey waited until she swallowed before he spoke. "There's still something between us, Emma."
She promptly choked, then glared at him before searching in vain for a napkin. Casey offered her his clean hankie. "You okay?"
She brushed away his concern. "Something, huh?" Her voice was still raspy as she wheezed for air. "Well, I can tell you exactly what that something is."
Casey tilted back. "That right?"
"Sure." She finally regained her breath. "I'm not dead. I felt it too."
Her mood was so uncertain, he couldn't decide how to handle her. "You know, you're a lot more candid when you're crabby."
Without another word, she dropped her head to her folded arms. He didn't know if she was laughing, but he was certain she wasn't crying.
Casey wanted to touch her, wanted to feel the warmth of her skin. Her light-brown hair lay fanned out around her, spilling onto the table. The sun had kissed it near her temples, along her forehead, framing her face with natural golden streaks. Her hair looked heavy and soft and shiny. The length of her spine was graceful, feminine. Her wrists, crisscrossed under her head, were narrow, delicate.
Everything about her turned him on. At the first hint of her scent, the natural perfume of warm woman fresh from her bed, he got excited. Around her, he felt things more acutely than he had for years.
Making an abrupt decision, he stroked one large hand over her head, down to her nape. "I want you, Emma."
Her silent laughter morphed into a groan.
Casey waited, content to smooth her hair and rub her shoulder. Content just to touch her in this innocent way. For now.
When she lifted her head, she was smiling and her eyes twinkled with teasing devilment.
Dazzled, Casey let his hand drop to the table. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her. "You are so pretty when you smile."
That made her laugh again. "Casey Hudson, you're as shameless as your uncles ever were, and God knows they were nigh infamous for their ways with women."
"Until they married, maybe." Her infectious smile soon had him grinning too. "Now they've taken to family life with as much gusto as they relished bachelorhood. I have a passel of nieces and nephews to prove it."
"Yeah, well, they were bachelors long enough for you to pick up their habits, I see. I've barely been in town a single night."
"But it feels like old times, doesn't it?" To him, it was as if she'd never gone away, they'd fallen into such an easy familiarity.
"Maybe, but it's still only one night, and already you're hitting on me."
"Tell me you don't want me."
Her smile disappeared, replaced with chagrin. "I wish I could."
His heart swelled and thumped. "Then..."
"No." The shake of her head seemed all too final. "Based on our pasts, I can understand why you think I'd just jump into bed with you. We both know I tried hard enough to get you there before I left. And I won't claim I've been a nun since leaving."
That made him wince. The thought of her with other men shouldn't have mattered, but it did. It always had.
"I'm only going to be in town for a short while and having a brief fling for old time's sake isn't on the agenda."
"Why not?" Though he didn't like what he wanted called a fling, he'd take what he could get for now. He wanted her that much.
She wrinkled her nose at him. "C'mon, Case. We're both older and wiser and more mature."
"Which only means we can damn well take advantage of the chemistry." He tipped his head, studying her. "The second I recognized you, Emma, I felt it. Again." Hell, it had nearly knocked him on his ass.
She stared at him a moment, then turned to look out over the street. "You know, I'd forgotten how wonderful it was to be in Buckhorn in the morning. In my apartment in Chicago, I don't hear birds first thing or see black squirrels running up a tree. The air I breathe isn't so fresh it has almost the same kick as my coffee. I'd forgotten the scents and the sights."
As hard as he'd tried, he hadn't forgotten a damn thing. He felt nettled – until she spoke again.
"I'd almost forgotten your effect on me." Emma's smile was a little sad, her dark eyes a little wistful. She picked a fat clover blossom from the ground and twirled it between her fingers. "I kept your shirt, did you know that?"
Watching Emma enjoy her surroundings, hearing the catch in her voice stirred him as much as being stroked by another woman would have. Casey felt primed enough that he would happily take her deeper into the trees and skim off her jeans right now – if she'd been at all willing.
But she wasn't.
Her old vulnerability, which had kept his baser instincts at bay as a teenager, was now gone. But in its place was something just as compelling to his heart. He took her hand. "What shirt?"
"The one you gave me the night I left."
"The night you snuck away."
"Semantics." Her crooked smile charmed him. "It smelled of you, so even when you weren't with me, you were. Do you know what I mean?"
He nodded. "It was something familiar."
"It was you. I still have it, though after all this time the scent is gone."
The idea of her hugging his shirt to her body night after night burned him. "Spend the night with me," he offered in a low rasp, "and you can have my whole damn wardrobe."
Her mouth curled, but the humor didn't spread to her eyes. "If I spent the night with you, Casey, I'm afraid I wouldn't want to go."
Her honesty surprised him, and it must have showed. She squeezed his hand and then pulled away.
"I don't mean to put you on the spot, I really don't. I'm not asking you for anything, because I don't need anything. I got my life together and I'm happy with it. But you were always my ultimate fantasy, and I have a feeling that indulgi
ng a real-life fantasy wouldn't be a good idea."
He discounted all that fantasy nonsense to ask, "Why?" A little indulgence sounded like a hell of an idea to him.
"It'd complicate things, when I won't be around long enough to deal with anything complicated."
Most of what she said seemed too difficult to understand. Her fantasy? He didn't want to be anyone's fantasy, but he did want to be her reality. In bed.
Anything more than that...well, he doubted he could ever trust Emma again. He'd wanted to be her savior, her protector, and instead she'd walked. And hadn't contacted him even once through all the long, lonely days that had followed. He'd gone from worried sick to angry to bitter.
Now she was back and all the other emotions faded behind the sexual greed, because that at least was easy enough to understand. "You just got here and you're already talking about leaving. How long do you plan to stay?"
She shrugged. "Damon's on a self-assigned sabbatical. He's rethinking his life, so he's able to stay as long as I want."
"A sabbatical from what?" Damon Devaughn seemed like a very real complication. He was close to Emma, no two ways about that. How close – that's what Casey wanted to find out.
"He's an architect, but he's tired of commercial design...you know, putting up shopping centers and parking lots. He wants to go into residential design and do single-family housing instead, because it's more personal. The thing is, starting over will mean realigning his life along with a huge cut in pay. Not that he can't afford it, but he's thinking things through."
It surprised Casey that he and Damon might have something in common – discontent with their current careers. For months, Casey had been rethinking his future plans, and wondering if he'd made a mistake in being lured by his step-grandfather into a position of money and influence. The job provided a challenge and drew a lot of respect, but because his office was in Cincinnati, it also took him away from his home. At first his big corner office had seemed impressive, but he'd quickly realized that he didn't like sitting behind a desk and answering to others, working for strangers instead of neighbors and friends. Dealing with computers and electronic programs was so impersonal, it left Casey feeling empty.