“Later. Tell me later, Daniel.”
She stretched up to take his bottom lip lightly between her teeth, then slid her tongue over his lip, into his mouth. His tongue met her, enticed her deeper. Matched her rhythm. Their rhythm.
“Kendra...” He turned them both, so her back was against the hall wall, his elbows locked to keep them arm’s length apart. “Are you certain?”
That was the question. An echo of the doubt she’d heard in his demand after the rainstorm. Who am I, Kendra? Who am I?
“I’m certain, Daniel. About this, I’m certain.”
Dark eyes bore into hers. Then he bent his elbows and pressed against her, his lips tender against hers, his body fierce and taut.
“I swore the next time we made love it would be in a bed.”
She recognized the arrogance of his certainty that there would be a next time, when she’d been so adamant there would not. And she didn’t care. Not now. Not when she needed this last time to get her through the rest of forever.
She was certain, desperate even, yet that first step away from the wall, toward her bedroom, her knees nearly give way. Without a word, he wrapped her tightly against his side. She slipped her arm around his waist, and held on. To him. To the moment.
Streams of sunlight from corner windows stretched wide over her bed. Atop the forest green comforter sat a pile of clean, folded laundry not yet put away – an emblem of mundane, practical life she was turning her back on for this moment. She scooped up the towels and socks, wash clothes and T-shirts and deposited them on the floor.
The motion brought her eye-to-eye with her tote, hanging by its straps from the arm of the corner chair. And that brought her face to face with the realities of what they were going to do – what they had done before – and its consequences.
Not allowing herself to hesitate but also not facing Daniel, she fished out the packet of condoms she had bought in Sheridan.
“I, uh, told myself we’d never use these, but as a practical matter, to have them on hand...”
He took the box from her hand, dropping it on the table beside her bed, and kissed her. Kissed her hard and gentle, hot and sweet, demanding and giving. Each kiss between them seemed not like a separate caress, but a continuation of the ones before and an introduction to the ones to follow.
Standing beside her bed, he lifted the hem of her sweater and she pulled it up. Before she’d freed her head, she felt his lips at the bared hollow in her throat, then lower, to the swell of her breast. She threw the sweater aside as his mouth closed over her nipple through the smooth fabric of her bra. The strong, pulsing pressure of his mouth echoed to her womb.
“I want to see you, Kendra. I want to see you.”
She told herself the urgency of Santa Estella shouldn’t drive them this time, there should be time and patience for exploration and leisure. But she had no patience. She wanted nothing between his mouth and her skin. Nothing between her hands and his flesh.
She pulled at her clothes, his clothes. Met his fingers at the same tasks. Hurried them, exulted in their mutual success with kisses, caresses and moans.
“We can make it slow this time,” Daniel said. She knew it wasn’t true, she didn’t want it to be true.
Both of them naked, he carried her down to the bed, pushing aside the comforter, skimming his hands over her as she reached for him. He was hot, smooth, hard. She tasted the salty musk of his skin, the taste she’d craved, the touch she’d dreamed of for three years.
A groan echoed through Daniel, and into her. He maneuvered away from her touch.
“Not yet – Slow...” He kissed her belly, then lower.
“No.” Her head rocked from side to side. “No, Daniel. Inside – together. Please.”
He held utterly still for a second, then he raised his head. “Kendra...” His breath was another torment of pleasure across her sensitized skin.
She twisted to reach the box on the bedside table, tumbling out the packets. Both of them, together, sheathed him. Her hands shaking, his hands covering hers, slowing the torture, lengthening the pleasure. Finished at last, she gulped in air, while she watched him drop his head back, eyes closed, breathing through his mouth. She touched him, lightly, on the chest, and his muscles quivered.
“I want you, Daniel. Inside.”
His eyes opened and his head came forward. Never releasing her look, he moved over her, between her legs, as she opened to him. He touched her once, and she gasped, her hips rising up, trying to meet him. He positioned himself, and plunged inside her.
A sob broke from her.
“Kendra – ?”
“No – no. It’s good. Oh... Daniel.” She wrapped herself around him, kissing his rock-hard arm as he tried to hold himself off her. She drew him down. “So good.”
The power and rhythm built fast and strong. She felt the strain in his muscles as he tried to slow what would not be held back.
“It’s been –”
“– so long.” She arched to meet his next stroke, and there was no holding back. The storm was inside. So was the peace. But the storm held sway now. Violent, awesome, powerful, unpredictable, life-changing. Climbing, howling, moaning, shuddering, crying. Conquering.
And as the storm ebbed, she held onto the peace and to Daniel.
He eased some of his weight off her, but they stayed joined. Just as such mundane matters as time began to assert themselves once more, he withdrew, rolling to the edge of the bed. He snagged a towel from the pile she’d placed on the floor, dealt with the practicalities, then pulled on another condom. And before she could muster the energy or desire to move, he had returned to her.
It was not the powerful stroke of earlier, but a slow, sweet glide. “Slow this time, Kendra. Building from the start.”
* * *
He propped himself on an elbow, his head resting against his hand as he studied her. She should guard her reactions, decide what she could let him see. Instead, she reveled in the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the depth of his eyes.
“Kendra?”
“Hmm.”
“This is later.”
She slid her hand down his chest, instructing her nerves to remember – always remember – these textures, these planes and hollows, this sensation. “Later later’s even better.”
He caught her hand as it ventured lower. His chuckle was raspy. “That package only had three condoms in it, and we’ve used them all. Next time –” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “– don’t sell us short. In the meantime, it’s time to tell you –”
Unfamiliar panic swept over her. “It can wait.”
“I’m staying in Wyoming – in Far Hills.”
“What? But your job...”
“I quit.”
“Quit,” she repeated, trying to make sense of this. She’d had this thought out, she knew how to react, what to expect. Now he’d dropped a bomb into her order. She sat up, holding the covers to her chin. “Why? When?”
He frowned, but answered readily enough. “Why is because of what you said about how could I be a good father to Matthew if I wasn’t going to be around.”
“But I didn’t mean –”
“For me to quit,” he filled in impatiently. “I know. You meant for me to give up and leave. But I don’t give up that easily, Kendra. Not on things that count. Like Matthew. You were right, though. I couldn’t be a father to Matthew, not the kind I want to be, with that job. So I quit. I went back because I owed my boss a face-to-face.”
“You went back – you quit when you went East? But that was weeks ago. My God, we’ve talked about your job! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to tell you at the same time that I had a new job – at least that’s what I told myself.” His voice turned grim. “I wonder if something told me I’d get this kind of response.”
“I don’t know what kind of response you expect when you tell me you’ve quit your job on a whim –”
“It wasn’t a whim. And I
also told you I’m staying in Far Hills. So I might have hoped for a response along the lines of your being glad it won’t have to be the last time for this.”
Her gaze followed the sweep of his hand to indicate the rumpled covers, and their nakedness. Then she met his eyes.
His face stiffened.
“I see. This was meant to be the last time. Sorry to disappoint you, Kendra.” He climbed out of bed, yanking on his jeans. “I’m staying. I got word on my new job before I called. I wanted to surprise you. Guess I did.”
An insidious thread of hope wove into her confusion.
“What kind of new job?”
“Search and rescue. I’ll be training volunteers and coordinating the regional efforts, ground and air.”
The thread snapped.
“It’s just the same. Rescuing people.”
“Once in a while maybe.”
“Like Taumaturgio.”
“It’s nothing like that. And it’s nothing like my old job flying for the government. I would have been gone more than I was around with that job. This will mean some emergency calls, sure, but it’ll be mostly milk runs. Routine. Scanning for a few lost campers.”
“Flying.”
“That’s what I do.”
“It’s what my father did, too.”
A whisper of words came into her mind.
You’ll come back, won’t you...?
Yes, I’ll come back.
When had she heard those words? Who – ?
Daniel reached for her. “Kendra.”
“No.” She scooted to the far side of the bed so he couldn’t touch her. She didn’t want his sympathy. “I told you, I don’t want Matthew to have to go through having his father take off one day and never return.”
“You can’t guarantee that won’t happen, Kendra, no matter what you do. You said my job with the government was the barrier to putting my name on his birth certificate, Kendra. The job’s gone. So’s your excuse. I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
“Sheriff Johnson? This is Kendra Jenner at the Banner.”
“Hey, there Kendra. How’re you doing? This seems to be my week for talking to folks from Far Hills Ranch. Had a call from Marti a few days ago. She’s a sharp one, your aunt.”
“Yes, she is. Sheriff, I heard you might have found someone to fill that post you mentioned – regional trainer and coordinator for search and rescue volunteers.”
He whistled. “You hear things fast. Thought I’d get Lucy to do a news release all neat and official before I heard from you.”
“You’re that far along in the process?”
“Don’t want to let this one get away. Not often we’d get someone with these kinds of skills. Damned impressive.”
“Hmm.” She stretched the note of speculation before asking, “So you’ve checked his credentials? Verified his resume?”
A faint creak reached her over the phone line, as if the sheriff had shifted in his old-fashioned wooden desk chair.
“Can’t say we’ve done that yet. ‘Course we’re not as formal as some places. We can go with our gut reaction, and my gut says this fella’s the real McCoy.”
“Of course, Sheriff Johnson. Although, with this person training volunteers, I’m sure your department would want to be certain you weren’t dealing with anyone who had something to hide.”
“S’pose not.”
“So, should I tell my editor we’re likely to have that news release in time for tomorrow’s deadline, Sheriff?”
“Better hold off, Kendra. Let me do some checking.”
“Of course, Sheriff.”
Kendra hung up, trying to ignore the roiling in her stomach. She’d had no choice. For Matthew’s sake. For hers. Maybe even for Daniel’s. Now she had to do something much, much harder.
* * *
“Daniel?”
He turned from the map-strewn desk set into the window alcove with no attempt to hide his surprise.
The white-haired man who’d introduced himself as Rufus Trent had told her Daniel was in his room, and to go on up. Her heart beat much harder than the climb up the stairs could explain. Some of it was dread. Some if it was simply seeing Daniel.
“Kendra.” A frown chased the surprise. “Is everything okay? Matthew –”
“He’s fine. It’s – we need to talk.”
“Okay.” He surveyed the room. Besides the desk and chair, there was a double bed with the head pushed against an end wall, a wardrobe, dresser and two bookcases under the slope of the roof.
He gestured for her to sit on the end of the quilt-covered bed. When she hesitated, he gave her a knowing look, picked up the desk chair, set it squarely facing her and sat. His patient silence gave her the floor.
“Yesterday... Well, it caught me by surprise.”
“What did, Kendra?”
“All of it,” she said a little impatiently. “What I was feeling, what happened – no, maybe not what happened.” She’d sworn to herself she would be totally honest. “But certainly the news about that search and rescue job. And I didn’t say some things I need to say. Some things I’ve thought through.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s like what you said when I said the storm drugged me – that drugs were one way to get people to reveal a truth that came out no other way.” She glanced up and he nodded. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have expressed my feelings without that storm. But you do it, too. You use the danger. That’s your drug.”
“That’s –”
“Just like a drug, Daniel.” She spoke over him, not letting him deny it. “It brings out the truth for you. Because that’s the only time you feel you’ve earned the right to have survived.”
He bent forward, his hands dropped between his knees, forearms resting across his thighs. He’d sat this way that first day he’d been in her house. Then he’d been watching Matthew with great intensity. Now his eyes seemed to be trained on his own hands. He didn’t lift his head when he spoke.
“Remember what you told me your professor said about what you would want to be doing on the last day of your life?”
“Yes.”
“Well, this is it for me, Kendra. Flying and helping people. That’s what I want to do.”
“It’s more important to you to save strangers –”
He raised his head, and she couldn’t finish.
“You’re who I want to spend all my days with – you and Matthew. But this is what I need to do. It’s not a means to an end. It’s who I am. I’m not saying you’re wrong about why that is. I don’t know. And I’m not saying it might not change. Some of it already has. It used to be I only knew about raising hell. Flying changed that. Then Taumaturgio changed me more.”
He took her hand, opening the clenched fingers and stroking it. “I love you, Kendra.” Her heart jolted at the words. “I think you love me. And part of me is the need to do this.”
“I know.” A strange feeling washed over her. A mixture of sadness, empathy, perhaps even a little shame. But it did not erode her determination. “That’s why you’ll be leaving here soon.”
His hands stilled. “What have you done, Kendra?”
“I asked pointed questions about the new search and rescue trainer’s credentials. They’ll check, and they’ll hit the same deadends my sources did. They’ll wonder what you’re hiding.”
“So you think you’ve killed my chance at this job.”
“Yes, I do.”
“And my chance of helping people.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t give up.”
“I know that.” Her voice trembled. She took in a steadying breath. “But you’ll take your risks somewhere else. Matthew won’t have to watch you. I won’t have to watch you.”
“I’m not a daredevil, Kendra. My defiance has been of regulations and red-tape, not of the laws of nature. I have a healthy respect for nature, and for the limits of machinery and man. I don’t push myself or my equipment beyond them.”<
br />
“I wish I could believe that. Or that believing would be enough.”
“Do you fear for Matthew?”
“Of course I do. But I didn’t have a choice whether to love Matthew or not. With you I have a choice.”
“Do you, Kendra? I didn’t. I had no choice at all. Not from those first hours during Aretha, when you were so damned determined to be brave. When you feared for someone else’s life and fought so hard to ease his pain. I had no choice at all about loving you.”
He leaned forward until his knees enclosed hers and took her face between his hands. She gave no resistance as he drew her forward so their mouths met. The kiss was soft and sad. With no warning, it shifted to hard and hungry.
It ended only when they parted enough to gulp in air.
“Dammit, I have no choice.” He shifted around to sit beside her on the bed, and put his arms around her. She went into the embrace, resting her cheek against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Daniel.” Her tears slipped down without check. “I know you wanted this job. I’m sorry I took that away from you.”
He kissed her hair. “I know you are.”
“I’d do it again.”
“I know that, too.”
She met his eyes, let her fingers trace the scar on his cheek. “The worst of it is, I still want you.”
His dark eyes held a million colors, each holding a different emotion, but the light in them was what she needed to see.
“That’s the best of it, Kendra.”
They made love. Kendra couldn’t explain it, couldn’t rationalize it, but she accepted that in the long, hot kisses, in the slide of his skin against hers, in the building sensations, there was a certainty, a clarity that she had known only in making love with this man. Their joined bodies, like cupped hands, enclosed a space, a moment, where they could love.
Afterwards, she lay wrapped in the quilt from his bed, listening to him in the bathroom, knowing that beyond them the problems remained. But content for now to allow only what was between them to exist.
He came back into the room. Naked and so right that her throat and eyes burned just looking at him. At the edge of the bed he stopped and looked down at her, his body changing, reacting.
“Do you have to go soon?”
Heart Stealers Page 43