“Of course, I’m coming inside.” He crossed to the table where he tossed his hat, gloves, and heavy jacket. And saw what she’d done to the parlor. The fire burned bright, but candles glowed on the mantel, on the side tables. A quilt was spread over the rug before the fire. He didn’t have to guess it was her mamma’s best china cups and plates on either side of the three-layer cake.
“I made coffee and cocoa to go with the cake,” she whispered shyly behind him. And when he didn’t answer she forced herself to speak. “Did I do something wrong? If I did, I’m sorry. I told you I’ve never had a man call on me and I wasn’t—”
“Bridie.” That was all he said as he turned and cupped her shoulders. “It’s perfect. I’m flattered that you went to so much trouble for me.”
“Oh, it was no—”
He stole the words with his lips. How could he think with the blood roaring in his head? With Bridie melting against him, soft and fragrant. His blood heated and pumped in response to the small sexy sounds she made in her throat. His body was tight with tension and steaming with heat. The touch of his tongue opened her lips. He plundered. Hard and impatient, he fought not to sweep her up into his arms and carry up the stairs.
Her eager, helpless sounds gave way to greed. She never wanted his kisses to end. She had the most handsome man in the county wanting her. And she wanted him to go on wanting her. She was afraid to name what she felt, afraid that it wasn’t true, that dreams for women like her were just that—empty dreams.
“Bridie, I swear, you make all my good intentions jump out the door.”
“Is that good or bad?” she asked with a hint of laughter.
“Good. Real good for me, Bridie. But innocent, it’s bad for you. Not safe at all.”
She chose safe over innocent. Bridie didn’t want to be reminded of her ignorance that allowed no control over the wild, intense feelings sweeping through her. She leaned back against the support of his arms and looked up at him.
“Safe, Kit? That’s a strange word to use. Are you a danger to me?”
He was drowning in the deep violet color of her eyes. Her silky hair teased his hands. He tried not to think of the mere inch separating lower bodies, or the lush curve of her breasts. He even tried stopping the image of soft flesh and wet cloth too sheer to protect her.
But what he saw in her eyes bucked building passion into wild, desperate need to claim her for his own.
“Bridie, if one of us is dangerous, it’s you. You do things to me that no other woman has. Not ever.”
“Oh, Kit.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Thank you. Oh, thank you for saying that. This is all so new to me and I feel wonderful. Happy. More—”
“I don’t know if you can believe this, Bridie, but this is new to me, too. And because I respect you, we are going to have coffee and cake.”
He turned her within his arms and nudged her into the parlor. Eating would occupy his mouth and his hands until he caged this need. But he wasn’t sure his mind was willing to cooperate in this attempt to protect Bridie’s innocence.
Seated opposite each other, Kit’s eyes fed the fire-gilded, glowing image of her until heat battered him inside and out.
He stared down at the cake. He loved sweets. Especially chocolate cake. Most especially this one. And due to need, he really looked at the cake. Something was missing. He had won and bribed his way to having a luscious four-layer.
Kit watched her cut the cake. He liked the smaller, feminine shape of her hands. Strong hands, capable. Oh, yes, capable, all right. Capable of a touch that drove him wild.
The knife slid down through moist layers just like desire sinking bone deep inside him. Sitting Indian style had seemed a good idea. He’d need a minute at least before he could move. A minute where he could think about what he was doing.
Now, he had to hunch over to hide from Bridie the shocking results of his thoughts. The thick slice of cake sat in the middle of the china floral plate she handed to him. He felt as if there was a far-off voice trying to tell him something. Something important. He couldn’t hear it through the seductive whisperings that made him hang on to his honor with a slippery hand.
“Kit? Kit, don’t you want the cake?”
“Yeah. Sure. I love chocolate cake. But I need to ask you …” He stopped and lifted his head to look at her. “Bridie, is this the one I brought here?”
Alarm bells rang. And quieted just as quickly. What difference could it make if Kit knew how she earned money? It was silly to hesitate, but there was a strange look on his face, one that made her think Kit was dangerous. She’d heard talk all her life about his hell-raising, even rumors of gun fights up in Indian territory. She couldn’t imagine why she was remembering this now.
“Bridie, answer me.”
“I …” That too-soft voice kept her silent. Then her practical nature took hold. “I’m being silly. No, this isn’t the cake you won. Does that matter so much?”
Kit swallowed his disappointment. For a moment there he thought his search was at an end. He should’ve known better. The woman who baked such decadent cakes was a woman of passion.
Bridie’s passionate.
Lusty, then, for every bite appealed to his senses after his eyes had feasted. His secret baker was a woman who took risks, one with a sensual nature. Pleasure-giving. And he had to stop. She was likely sixty years old, a plump grandmother with years of experience behind her. It could even be a man. Lord, forbid.
Bridie poured coffee.
Kit shunned his musings and took a bite. He closed his eyes. A soft moan of pleasure escaped his lips. Rich flavors exploded on his tongue. Damn! but the cake was almost as good as kissing Bridie. Almost?
She was smiling at him when he opened his eyes. “You really do love chocolate cake.”
“This one. I’ve never denied having a sweet tooth, but this one cake is a taste of heaven. I’ve been haunting the Planters’ House trying to find out who does the baking. It’s a search—”
“Search?” Bridie rubbed her fingertips over the back of her hand. “Why are you searching for the baker?”
Now you’ve gone and done it. What are you going to say? I’m going to marry the woman—if it is a woman, and under thirty.
“I want to extend personal compliments for the delicious desserts I’ve enjoyed.” Smooth. See, you’re back in control. Yeah, right. And Bridie looks mighty disappointed with your answer.
“Aren’t you going to have any, Bridie?”
“It’s a little too rich for me.”
Kit worked his way through half the slice before her words hit him like a sun-fishing bronc dumped its rider. “I didn’t know you’d been to the hotel. I thought you … well, most ladies don’t go there alone.”
“Well I do. Oh, not into the hotel dining room. But around back.”
“The chef a friend of yours?” The jealous note made him push an extra large bite in his mouth. Bridie and that arrogant Frenchman who’d chased him out of the kitchen waving a knife that Jim Bowie’d be proud to own? No. No, not his Bridie.
“Jean-Paul likes to cook. We talk sometimes if he’s not too busy.”
Kit strained his eyes and knew that was a deeper flush on her cheeks. He’d embarrassed her with his question. Bridie must have been looking for work. He knew there were debts. No one lived in Denison who didn’t know everyone else’s business. But if Bridie was slowly paying off those debts, where was the money coming from?
Kit finished his cake. He emptied his coffee cup. He rose and went to her. Two seconds and he had her standing, a few more and he sat on the small settee with Bridie in his lap.
He cupped her chin when she would have turned away. “Oh no. Look at me. Answer one question. Did you make the cake?”
“Do women tell you that you have beautiful eyes and such thick lashes a woman would be dead not to envy them?”
“I don’t care about other women. Are you telling me that?”
Her dreamy-eyed look and the gentle way she traced the shape of his brow was answer enough.
“Bridie, will you marry me?” And the only bet he was thinking of winning was the one he made with himself.
Chapter 9
Marriage? When she was just learning to enjoy the courting? When she was still afraid to name what she felt for Kit? Anger—unreasoning, she thought—but anger just the same began to build for his question. How could he spoil her newfound pleasure?
How dare he ask the most important question in a woman’s life and spread kisses over her ear and neck that sent fire bursts inside her? How was a woman supposed to think? How could she think when aware of every masculine inch of his lean, hard-muscled body tense, and heated against her own?
He had the experience. She couldn’t deny it. But she had instincts. Instincts that brought her hands up to cradle his face and hold him for a kiss.
Bridie poured passion into that kiss. All the passion he had brought to life. She, who had never shared herself with anyone, shared all the wild, glorious feelings flaming inside.
Kit took control. Her hands slipped down to grip his shoulders. She tasted her gifts coming back twofold. There was no gentleness, no soft coaxing of mouth to mouth. His kiss was raw, hungry, a prelude to mating. She wanted more. Kit arched his neck back, drawing her deeper into the kiss. She used the tip of her tongue in such a clever way, arrow shafts of need went straight to his loins. She held nothing back, and he took with a greed that in saner moments would astound him.
There were no thoughts of her innocence, only of hunger. He had taught her too well. She knew just how to angle her head and slant her lips to tease, torment, and spike need higher, deeper, and leave him wanting more. Soft flesh heated and melted against his. A second’s parting for breath, to hear those sexy sounds she made, then plunder the rich, dark taste of chocolate-flavored passionate kisses.
“Lord, woman,” he muttered, “you’d make a monk give up his vows.”
“Kiss me again, Kit. You make my heart pound and my knees shake—”
“Hush. You don’t know what you’re saying. What you’re doing.”
She leaned back against his arm and drew his head down. “Then show me the right way. But I don’t think anything could be more wonderful.”
Kit couldn’t avoid the kisses she planted on his face and neck. His hands clenched around the tangled silk of her hair to keep himself from taking what she offered. “Stop, Bridie. You’re making me crazy.” His voice, husky with need, cracked with desperation as his body made opposite demands.
With more enthusiasm than finesse, she opened the top button of his shirt.
“Bridie,” he warned.
She slipped the second button free and her fingertips trailed down, parting the cloth and setting his skin on fire.
“I wanted to touch you that night in the kitchen. I’ve never wanted to touch—”
“A damn good thing, too,” he growled.
He had to get her off his lap. She weighed next to nothing, but the muscles in his arms were quivering from enforcing his will not to touch. She squirmed and pushed herself up. She bit his ear. Kit’s knees went weak. What the devil had he unleashed?
He retaliated without thinking of the consequences. “Oh, Kit, do that again. I felt it—”
“Behave yourself. You don’t need to tell me where. I know. Remember, I have the experience. And you’re not the only one who wanted to touch. Do you have any idea of what you did to me that night? Draped in a flimsy excuse of cloth plastered to every lush curve? It’s a wonder my heart didn’t stop beating.” He made the mistake of getting too close to her inviting mouth. Honorable intentions went the way of the good ones. The heat ran through him, torment and temptation. With a groan torn from deep inside he lost himself in her generous giving lips.
“Bridie.” Her name was a plea. “I’m trying to be good. For your sake.”
“You are. Good, that is. Kiss me again. I love the way you make me feel.” Her fingers tugged on the neck of his shirt, then slipped beneath the cloth to touch his skin that was growing damp with sweat.
“Lord, help me.” He was never more sincere. He moaned. “Have pity.” He couldn’t think straight. His breathing went off the ragged edge with the effort he made to keep himself from tearing off her clothes. And he discovered that Bridie had a wicked, dark side. The woman had no pity. No mercy. Not an ounce of sense to protect herself.
She nibbled his neck. “Do you really love—”
“Chocolate cake—”
“Me?” she whispered at the same moment.
Hands that caressed now pushed against him as she struggled to get up. “You’re right. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve made a fool of myself. I just didn’t … oh, please, let me go.” There was no place to look but at him. She closed her eyes. “Please.”
Kit held her tight. “I can’t let you go. I told you the truth. This is new to me. I’ve never asked another woman to marry me. And you never did answer me. You’re very good at avoiding my questions.” The heat in his blood hadn’t cooled but he could think again.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
He drew back so they were both sitting upright. “Bridie—”
“I’ll answer you, but first I need to know if you just wanted me to say yes, or did you really want me?”
“Both.” He gently brushed her hair back from her face. “Look at me. At me,” he repeated softly. She lifted burnished lashes and he saw into the almost black depths of eyes that couldn’t mask the desire that made her tremble. But there was more revealed to his gaze. Now he knew why she asked if he loved her.
Bridie loved him.
And he knew what he had to do.
“Bridie, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“We’ve both said enough.”
“No. This is important. I want to be honest with you.”
She looked down at her hands still pressed against his chest. “Some secrets are best when kept.” Don’t tell me it’s all a lie. I couldn’t bear that.
“Not this one. This is one of those that come back to haunt a man. And what I’ve found in you, with you, is too special to allow that to happen.”
“Kit, will what you need to tell me change your mind about asking me to marry you?”
“No. But it might change yours.”
She held his green gaze with a look so steady, direct and knowing that Kit held his breath. He was going to lose before he really had a chance of winning.
“Wanna bet on that, Kit?”
“What did you say?” None too gently, he hauled her arms up and around his neck. Added problems. He could feel her nipples pressing through his shirt to scald the skin beneath. And to his surprise, Bridie pressed closer.
“I said—”
“I heard it. Keep still, Bridie. This is serious.”
“I know. I may faint if you don’t get on with it.” Her fingers tunneled upward into his hair. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long, long time.”
“You asked if I wanted to bet. I don’t. I know I don’t.
“Oh, my. I’m very glad to hear that, Kit. A woman might reconsider a proposal if she had to worry about a man’s gambling.” She smiled and pressed a kiss on his chin, another on his cheek and, feeling his tension, drew back. “That is something you can bet on with anyone. Even Jamie.”
“You knew? All this time … I ought to strangle you.” But he kissed her, then kissed her again, putting all his frustration and all his need into it. And she met him more than halfway. When he managed to pull back, her eyes were heavy and dazed.
“Why didn’t you chase me off?”
“I did. But you came back, remember?”
“Wild horse races couldn’t have kept me away. Bridie, I want you to know that I never thought about hurting you.”
“Kit, I don’t want to know any more about it. I think it’s time for you to share a secret of mine.�
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“I already figured out you’re the woman I’ve been looking for, and not just for those delicious baked goods. You are more delicious. I could feast on your kisses the way I once could eat that whole cake by myself.”
“You’d get an awful tummy ache if you did.”
He nuzzled the soft skin behind her ear. “Would you rub it and make the ache go away?”
Her hand slid down his chest, leaving heat, and came between her hip and his belly. She made a slow circling motion. “Like this?”
“Lower.” But when she started to follow his request, Kit swore. “Bridie, you stop throwing out my good intentions.” He ached and throbbed and hurt. She slipped off his lap before he could stop her.
She tugged on his hand. “Come upstairs with me. I have something to show you.”
Kit rose, but he swept her up into his arms. “I don’t want you out of my sight.”
She felt cherished, and fragile. Strong and desired from the hot gleam in his eyes, and the furious beating of his heart beneath her palm. She trembled when he reached the bottom of the steps. But it wasn’t fear. She had yearned for him too long to be afraid.
“Bridie, if there’s a ‘no’ left in you, say it now. I can’t trust myself to say it for you.”
“I can’t say no. I’d be lying.”
Minutes ago he was humbled by her forgiveness of his terribly reckless bet. But humble wasn’t a suit that fit him well. Male arrogance did.
“I know.”
She wanted to store every second. The taste of each kiss as he repeatedly stopped on the steps. Of the hunger that called and was answered. Of having someone like Kit want her. Dreams were no longer empty. Tender or rough, she didn’t care as long as he didn’t stop.
She tightened her arms around him, and her own greedy need brought her to savor the taste of his skin. And when she brought a groan from him, she laughed from sheer joy.
“The death of me,” he muttered as he entered her room. But he was grinning as he tumbled to the bed with her. “Or better yet, I’ll show you a little death.”
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