That Blackhawk Bride

by Barbara Mccauley

  “Then it wouldn’t have mattered to you?” she asked. “Given you one more reason to stay away from me?”

  “Maybe.” He kissed each cheek, then the tip of her nose. “But sooner or later, this would have happened even if I had known. One more day in the car with you and I think I would have pulled off the road, dragged you in the back seat and taken you right there.”

  Just the thought of him doing that made her pulse pick up again. “Really?”

  “Really. When you walked into the restaurant tonight, I nearly swallowed my tongue.”

  Though her cheeks warmed, pleasure swelled in her chest. She slid her hand to his arm and brushed her fingers back and forth over his muscular biceps. “I was hoping I’d get your attention.”

  He sighed, then rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him. “You didn’t need to change a thing about yourself to get my attention. You’ve had my complete attention from the second you stepped out of that bridal shop.”

  “The bridal shop?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “But I was engaged, practically married. You didn’t know me at all.”

  “Practically married is not married,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “And you’re not that naive, Clair, to think a man has to know a woman to fantasize about taking her to bed.”

  He’d fantasized about her? The idea made her stomach flutter. Folding her arms over his chest, she gazed down at him. “No, I suppose not. I just haven’t been around a lot of men, and Oliver was, well, I suppose he was a bit conservative. He thought we should wait until after we were married to sleep together.”

  Frowning, he slid his hands up her shoulders, then down her back. “Oliver is an idiot.”

  Surprised by Jacob’s bitter tone, Clair lifted a brow. “You don’t even know him. Why would you say that?”

  His dark gaze met and held hers for a long moment. She had the oddest feeling he was about to tell her something, then suddenly he flipped her onto her back.

  “Let’s just say I know his type,” he said tightly. “And anyway, he’d have to be an idiot to let you go.”

  It was the nicest thing Jacob had ever said to her, Clair realized. She had to swallow the thickness in her throat before she could speak. “He didn’t let me go,” she said quietly. “I ran away and left him standing in the church. It must have been awful for him.”

  Jacob’s mouth pressed into a hard line and his eyes searched hers. “Are you having regrets?”

  “Guilt, maybe.” She reached up and touched his lips with her fingertips. “But no regrets. There isn’t one thing I would change that’s happened to me since I left that church.”

  “Not one thing?” He took her hand in his, kissed each fingertip. Every soft press of his lips sent sparks of electricity buzzing up her arm. “You sure?”

  It rushed through her like a warm wind, the need, the heat, the desire. Her heart began to pound; her breath caught. “Well…maybe one thing…”

  He hesitated, lifted a brow as he glanced down at her.

  “I would have preferred four children instead of two,” she said thoughtfully. “Little Jake and the baby—oh, dear, I can’t remember, is it a boy or a girl?”

  It was easier, Clair thought, to let herself tease, to be playful rather than discuss Oliver. Her ex-fiancé was the last person she wanted to think about right now. And certainly the last person she wanted to talk about.

  One corner of Jacob’s mouth curved. He turned his attention to the inside of her elbow. “A boy. Trevor.”

  “Of course, Trevor.” She sucked in a breath when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin. “Well, Jake and Trevor are getting older and with my disease—what was it again?”

  His hand moved up her belly, his knuckles brushed the soft underside of her breast. “Myopia infarction.”

  “That’s it.” She gripped the bedclothes in her fists and hung on. “Well, I keep forgetting where I’ve put the children, so it would help if we had a couple more so they could all keep an eye on each other.” She arched upward when his thumb brushed back and forth over her nipple. “And you…know…how much I want a little girl.”

  “Soon as I get my job back at the fertilizer plant,” he said hoarsely, “we’ll talk about it.”

  He moved over her, his hands, his mouth, brought her to the brink slowly this time. Mindlessly, breathlessly, they held on to each other, then once again slipped over the edge.

  She was already in the shower when he woke the next morning. His shower, he noted, opening first one heavy eyelid, then the other. He blinked hard, then glanced at the nightstand clock.

  7:00 a.m.?

  With a groan, he slammed his eyes shut again. The woman got up too damn early.

  He rolled away from the bathroom door and pulled the covers over his head, but he could still hear the spray of the water and the sound of Clair singing. Something familiar, though he couldn’t place it or make out the words. He dragged the blanket down and listened, then opened his eyes again and flopped onto his back. She was singing in French. Something from an opera, he guessed, though he wouldn’t know one from the other.

  Thank God.

  He could picture Clair, her back perfectly straight as she sat in one of those private theater boxes. She’d be dressed in sleek black, her shiny, dark hair pulled up in a knot on top of her head, exposing that long, regal neck of hers.

  That was her world. The only world she knew. She’d have her adventure, mix with the common folk for a few days, then she’d go back to that world. Where she belonged.

  And he didn’t.

  Furrowing his brow, he sat and scrubbed a hand over his face. Where in the hell had that thought come from?

  He and Clair both knew that they would go their own ways once they got to Wolf River. Last night hadn’t changed that.

  He glanced at the bathroom door and frowned. It hadn’t changed, he told himself. The only thing it changed was that they’d be sleeping in one bed until they got to Wolf River. Now that he’d had a taste of her, there was no way he could keep his hands off her.

  He couldn’t remember when he’d ever been so hungry for a woman before.

  So desperate.

  When he heard her voice crack on a high note, Jacob shook his head, then tossed the covers off. Naked, he headed for the bathroom.

  She’d switched from opera to country-western, he noted, a Dixie Chicks tune about wide-open spaces, though she wasn’t quite getting the words right.

  Her song was cut off abruptly by an explosion of cursing.

  Lifting a brow, he inched the door open. “Clair?”

  When she didn’t answer, he stepped inside. On the other side of the blue plastic shower curtain, all he could see was her head stuck under the shower, her face lifted to the spray. He moved beside her.

  “Something wrong?”

  She squeaked, grabbing the shower curtain and hiding behind it. “Jacob! You scared me!”

  “I thought you were hurt.” He tried to peek around the curtain, but couldn’t see a thing. “First all that caterwauling, then you’re cursing like a truck driver with a loose wheel.”

  “Caterwauling!” She stuck her head out. Her face was wet, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes dropped to his naked body, widened, then she snapped her gaze back up. “First of all, I got shampoo in my eyes, and second, I’ll have you know I studied with Mademoiselle Marie Purdoit for three years. She said I was a natural.”

  “Maybe she meant your hair,” he teased.

  Frowning, Clair swiped a hand over her face, flicked the water at him, then ducked behind the curtain and started to sing “Love Me Tender” in a deep, exaggerated off-key voice.

  So she wanted to play, did she?

  Grinning, he ducked back into his room and grabbed his camera, then slipped back into the bathroom and took aim.

  “Clair,” he said loudly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. You sing very well for someone who’s tone-deaf.”

  “Tone-deaf!”

  As she stuck her head
out again, he clicked the picture. Shocked, she stood there for a moment, her mouth and eyes open wide. He took another shot.

  With a shriek, she disappeared behind the curtain.

  And cursed profusely.

  Laughing, he put the camera aside. “Make way, Mademoiselle Beauchamp. I’m coming in.”

  “Jacob Carver,” she yelled as he stepped inside the shower, “if you dare to—”

  He cut her words off by taking hold of her shoulders and dropping his mouth on hers. She drew in a startled breath, then her arms came around his shoulders.

  In spite of the busy night they’d had, the need rose instantly, heated his blood and made his heart race. He turned his back to the hot spray as he deepened the kiss and pulled her against him. Her skin was hot and smooth and wet. Her breasts flattened against his chest as she rose up to meet him; her arms tightened around his neck while she curled one long, smooth leg behind his.

  Gasping, she dragged her mouth from his and looked up at him, her eyes filled with desire. “Tell me what to do.”

  He slid his hands down to her bottom and lifted her. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

  He entered her quickly, pressed her back against the cool tile, was deep inside her when he began to move. Her moan echoed off the shower walls.

  When her head fell back, he dragged his mouth and teeth along her jaw. Her long, sleek, wet legs tightened around him, intensifying the pleasure until it became unbearable.

  “Jacob…hurry…”

  Liquid fire raced through over his skin, pulsed through his veins. He felt the bite of her fingernails in his shoulders, then the nip of her teeth. He thrust deeper still, felt her tighten around him, tremble.

  Her shudder rolled through him. With a moan, he followed.

  Barely able to breathe, he eased her down his body, felt her body sag against him when her feet touched the tub floor.

  Steam swirled around them and the hot spray battered their bodies. Still dazed, he gathered her close for a moment, then turned off the water and took her back to his bed.

  Eight

  “Coffee?”

  “Hmm.” Afraid she might fall off the cloud she was presently floating on, Clair did not turn her head at Jacob’s question or even open her eyes. Since the shower incident almost two hours ago, she and Jacob had made love, dozed off in each other’s arms, then made love again.

  She had a bruise on her hip, knots in her damp hair, and every muscle in her entire body ached.

  Smiling, she slid deeper under the sheet covering her and burrowed into the mattress.

  “I take it that’s a yes.” He touched his lips to her bare shoulder, nibbled for a moment, then rolled off the bed. “I think we’re both going to need it black and strong today.”

  Slitting one eye open, Clair watched Jacob drag a pair of jeans up his long, powerful legs, then tug the denim over his tight, firm butt. His waist was narrow, his shoulders wide, his arms muscular. He seemed completely at ease with his body, naked or clothed, and completely at ease with himself.

  She envied him that. She’d always felt awkward with her body. Her arms and legs had always seemed too long, her breasts too small, her shoulders too bony. Well, at least until last night she’d felt that way. Now she felt…just right.

  Not perfect, as everyone had wanted her to be, but just right.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “You can thank me when I get back.” He pulled on a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt and waggled his eyebrows at her while he closed the buttons.

  As spent and consumed as she felt, her body still tingled at the thought. Rolling to her side, she propped her head up in the palm of her hand and smiled at him. “Not for the coffee, for last night.” She felt a blush work its way up her neck. “It was wonderful. You were wonderful.”

  Grinning, he sat back down on the edge of the bed and brushed his lips over hers. “You were pretty damn wonderful yourself, Miss Beauchamp.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Carver.” She laid her palm on his knee. “How kind of you to say so.”

  He leaned into the kiss, increased the pressure of his mouth on hers. “Don’t mention it.”

  She felt his thigh muscles tighten and bunch as she moved her hand up his leg. When he pressed her back onto the mattress, she forgot every ache, forgot her exhaustion. Pleasure heated her skin, her blood, made her heart pump furiously.

  Jacob moved his mouth down her throat, blazed hot kisses while his hand tugged the sheet slowly down—

  The phone on the nightstand rang.

  “Dammit.” Jacob lifted his head and frowned at the phone. “That will be Odell. I was supposed to be at the garage thirty minutes ago to help drop the radiator back in my car.”

  Clair slid her hands smoothly down his chest, lingered at the open snap of his jeans. “You should probably answer it.”

  She watched his gaze darken and his eyes narrow when she traced her fingertip down his zipper. Her boldness shocked, yet thrilled her at the same time.

  “You answer it,” he said roughly, then lowered his head to her neck while his hands tugged the sheet away. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

  Breathless, her head spinning, she answered the phone on the fourth ring.

  “Clair?”

  Her heart, which had been pounding so fiercely, stopped.

  “Oliver?”

  Jacob went still, then lifted his head and met her startled gaze. His mouth pressed into a hard line, and he rolled away.

  “Why are you answering Carver’s phone?” Oliver demanded. “Put him on the line.”

  “How did you know where I was?” Clair pulled the sheet up to cover herself, watched Jacob yank a pair of socks out of his bag, then grab his boots and sit on the edge of the bed.

  “It doesn’t matter how I know,” Oliver said irritably.

  In spite of everything, Clair was certain her mother hadn’t given the number to Oliver. “It matters to me.”

  “I just happened to see the number written down in your mother’s office.”

  “You went through my mother’s office?” She sat, stared at Jacob’s stiff back while he pulled his boots on and laced them.

  “You’ve forced me to resort to underhanded measures to find you.” Oliver’s tone was pious. “Clair, you’re jeopardizing your reputation by gallivanting around the country with this Carver fellow. He’s not to be trusted.”

  Clair frowned at the phone. “Why would you say that?”

  “Men like Jacob Carver have no sense of ethics or scruples. They’ll say and do anything to get what they want. He may even attempt to seduce you by telling you lies about me.”

  “I assure you, that has not happened.” If anything, the opposite was true—she’d seduced Jacob. But Oliver didn’t need to know that.

  “I insist you come back home immediately.” His irritation snapped across the line. “We can be married in a quiet ceremony.”

  “Oliver.” Clair reminded herself that after everything she’d done, the way she’d left him in the lurch, he deserved her patience. “I know my parents explained to you I’m going to meet my brothers in Wolf River. I don’t know when I’m coming home.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” he said with more than a touch of arrogance in his voice. “There’s still time to repair the damage you’ve done to our social standing. It’s understandable that you’ve had a temporary breakdown from the shock of learning about your adoption. Just come home, Clair, and I’ll forgive you everything. I love you.”

  She’d thought he had, but the words sounded empty now. It seemed to Clair that Oliver’s “social standing” was what troubled him the most. She knew she should be hurt, but the fact was, she was relieved.

  When Jacob stood and strode across the room, Clair reached a hand out to stop him, but he didn’t look back. The chain beside the door rattled when he slammed it behind him.

  With a sigh, she laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  “Clair?” Oliver’s imp
atient voice came over the line again. “Answer me. Are you there? Clair!”

  “I appreciate your magnanimous offer,” she said evenly. “But my answer is no. I did not have a temporary breakdown, I am not coming home, and I am not going to marry you. Goodbye, Oliver.”

  “Clair—”

  She hung up the phone, then took it off the hook. When she heard the phone ringing from her room, she groaned and put a pillow over her head.

  Furrowing her brow, she pulled her head back out from under the pillow and listened to the persistent ring.

  Why had Oliver asked the motel desk to connect him with Jacob’s room first? she wondered. He’d obviously been surprised when she’d said hello, so he hadn’t expected her to answer the phone. And he’d asked her to put Jacob on the phone.

  Why had he done that?

  Maybe Oliver had thought he could convince Jacob to bring her back to South Carolina. Perhaps offer him a reward for her return.

  It didn’t matter, she thought, thankful when the phone finally stopped ringing. Whatever Oliver’s reasons were for wanting to speak to Jacob, she simply didn’t care.

  She knew that Jacob would be headed back to New Jersey soon, if not immediately, after they arrived in Wolf River. They might have slept together, but she wasn’t so foolish as to think that last night had changed anything for him.

  And she certainly wasn’t so foolish as to tell him that she’d fallen in love with him. No doubt she’d be left standing in a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust if she did.

  With a sigh, she looked at the nightstand clock, watched the time change from 9:02 to 9:03. She had no intention of pining away the precious minutes and seconds they had left together. Whatever time they had, she was determined to make the most of it.

  Sliding out of bed, she hurried into her room and dug through her suitcase. She pulled out the leopard print thong, smiled slowly, then headed for the shower.

  Two hours later, covered with dirt and sweat, Jacob came back to an empty, quiet motel room. Disappointment stabbed at him that Clair wasn’t exactly where he’d left her—in his bed—but he supposed it was for the best. It was nearly noon and if they were going to make any time on the road at all today, they’d need to get a move-on.