by Rebecca York
Chapter Fifteen
Riley watched Courtney take her lower lip between her teeth.
“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that,” he whispered.
“Doing what?
“Biting your lip.”
She nodded, her tongue flicking out to soothe the place where the teeth had been, and he couldn’t stop his gaze from locking on the sensual movement.
“It’s hard to…to…trust you,” she whispered.
“I know. I came to the Golden Saddle with ulterior motives.” He wanted to keep talking—to tell her how much things had changed since the colonel had sent him here. He wanted to tell her how much he cared for her. But it wasn’t fair to barrage her with words. So he waited in silence.
When she finally spoke, he could hardly hear her above the ringing in his ears.
“Riley, you saved my life tonight. I’m so fat and awkward that if I’d been in that battered-women’s shelter, I probably couldn’t have gotten out.”
“You’re not fat and awkward!”
“Don’t tell me how I feel!” She glared at him, and he closed his mouth.
“Let me finish. Ever since I heard the news report, I’ve been thinking about the way you came here earlier this evening.”
“I had to warn you.”
“But Fowler was expecting you to be with his men, wasn’t he?”
He nodded.
“I guess you had to do some fast talking when you got back.”
“Yeah.”
She shuddered. “I can’t believe I allowed a creep like Fowler to hole up on my property.”
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. He was a master manipulator. He’s the most cunning perp we’ve ever chased.”
“I should thank you for saving my life instead of accusing you of being underhanded.”
He might have said, “I’m not proud of deceiving you.” But he’d learned when to keep his mouth shut.
They stood silently facing each other. Then, to his astonishment, she stepped forward and pressed her lips to his.
It was a sweet kiss, a thank-you kiss. But to him it meant so much more, and he couldn’t simply stand there and let it be over in an instant.
“Oh, Courtney,” he murmured, “you are everything I ever dreamed of in a woman.”
She pulled back enough to study his face. “You can’t mean that.”
“Of course I do.” His arms came up. Gently, mindful of her condition, he gathered her to him, holding her tenderly because she was precious to him and the thought of losing her was like losing part of himself.
He had already said too much about his assignment. And he wasn’t free to say more. Not while they were still trying to figure out who had set up Boone Fowler and his militia men. And how.
But he hoped he could show her his feelings. He moved his lips against hers, demanding nothing, yet silently asking if she would accept more.
She told him she would by returning the kiss with a fervor that had him instantly hard as a poker.
He wanted to pull her body tightly against his. But he managed to keep his hold on her light.
She made a small sound of wanting that almost stole his sanity. If she had been any other woman, he would have torn off her clothes, pulled her down to the rug and made passionate love to her in front of the Christmas tree. But she was almost eight months pregnant, and caveman tactics were out of the question.
Still, standing had become impossible. He’d been through a hell of a lot this evening, and his knees were weak, from kissing her as much as from anything else.
When he scooped her up into his arms, she made a small sound of surprise.
The pressure hurt his injured arm, and he winced.
“Riley?”
“We’re not going far,” he muttered as he sat down heavily in an overstuffed chair.
Adjusting her weight, he cuddled her against him, reveling in the warmth of her body, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her wonderful scent.
The words “I love you” clamored behind his lips. He wasn’t free to say them. Maybe he’d never be free to tell her. But he could kiss her and stroke her and give her pleasure.
She could have pushed herself up and put some distance between them. She could have told him he was a lying bastard who had no right to touch her like this.
But she stayed where she was, exchanging hot, wet kisses. When his fingers brushed back and forth across her breasts, joy rose inside him as he felt her hardened nipples and knew she was responding to him the way he was to her.
He couldn’t stop himself from sliding his hand under her skirt and up her leg to the hot, moist core of her.
When he began working his way under the leg of her panties, she reached down and closed her fingers around his.
“Don’t.”
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, struggling to remember why he had no right to touch her like that. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say.
She pressed her cheek to his and spoke with her lips against his ear. “We should go back to the bedroom if we’re going to continue this.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” She climbed awkwardly off his lap and held out her hand, looking so shy and vulnerable that his heart turned over inside his chest.
He stood and reached for her, and the words he had been trying not to say tumbled out. “Courtney, I love you.”
She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “You hardly know me.”
“I’m a good judge of people. I’ve got to be in my job. I know you well enough to see you’ve got grit and courage. And determination. Yet you’re so soft and feminine.”
“And a little naive,” she added.
“Yeah. That, too.”
She licked her lips. “I…can’t…make any commitments when I don’t know—”
He jumped in before she finished. “You don’t have to say any more. Not until I prove to you that I’m not the lying rat who came to your ranch under false pretenses.”
“You’re not a lying rat!”
“Let’s not waste time arguing,” he said, his grip firming on her hand. He was the one who led them down the hall into the bedroom. He didn’t know exactly what she had in mind. Maybe she was too far along now for him to do more than hold her. But he’d love to do just that. And one more thing. If he didn’t see her, he would go insane. So he crossed the bathroom and turned on the light, leaving the door partly ajar.
Then he closed and locked the bedroom door—so that busybody Jake couldn’t come bursting in on them…using the excuse that he thought Courtney was in danger.
She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. “You know I feel…embarrassed about the way I look,” she murmured.
“I told you. You look very sexy to me. Very feminine.” As he spoke, he walked toward her and stopped inches away. Raising a hand that trembled slightly, he traced his fingers over the swell of her breasts, stroking her distended nipples before sliding his hand downward so he could circle the larger swell of her belly.
She was silent for several moments, then blurted, “You know the right things to say. You did from the beginning.”
The observation stung, because it didn’t simply apply to this situation. She could just as well be talking about the line he’d fed her—about his ranch manager experience.
“Is fast talking part of your training?”
“Yeah. We get a course in BS.”
She laughed.
“But the things I said to you—the personal things were all true.” He heaved in a breath and let it out. Because he needed to lay his cards on the table, he said, “And from now on, you can count on my being absolutely straight with you. About everything.” He swallowed. “But I know it’s going to take time for you to believe that.”
He understood why she still couldn’t completely trust him, though he was pretty sure she wanted to. And he set about helping the process along in the best way he could think of, kissing
her and stroking her as he found the zipper at the back of her dress and lowered it.
He moved slowly, taking her with him and leaning against the door because he wasn’t quite steady on his feet. Giving her time to object, he splayed his hands over the hot skin of her back before shifting the dress off her shoulders and lowering the front.
She was wearing a no-nonsense-looking maternity bra. He unhooked that, too, lifting it away and freeing her breasts. They were voluptuous and firm, the nipples large and dark.
She tried to cover them with her hands. But he caught her wrists.
“You are so sexy,” he whispered, then lowered his head, stroking his tongue around first one nipple and then the other. He wanted to suck. But he suspected that might embarrass her. So he held the impulse in check while he lowered her dress, pulling down her half slip, too.
“I’m so big,”
“Of course not. You ought to have seen one of the women on the ranch where I grew up. She got so enormous she looked as if she’d topple over if you gave her a little push.”
Courtney answered with a nervous laugh.
“You’ve just got a cute little potbelly.”
Shifting the attention away from her, he said, “I feel like I’m a bit overdressed. Would you help me off with my clothes?”
She tackled his belt buckle while he worked the buttons on his shirt. When he tried to shrug out of the shirt, he gritted his teeth.
“Your arm?”
“Yeah.”
Working carefully, she helped him get the shirt off his shoulders, then dragged in a sharp breath when she saw the bandage covering most of the skin from his shoulder to his elbow.
“It looks worse than it feels,” he said quickly.
“I think you’re lying about that. How many stitches?”
“Around twenty.”
“Ouch.”
“I think you can help me forget about it,” he countered, “if I can just get out of these damn pants.”
She went back to work on his zipper. And he drew in a strangled breath when she closed her hand around his erection.
“That feels so good,” she murmured.
He laughed. “I think I’m getting the better part of the deal.”
He kicked off his boots and pants. Knowing he couldn’t manage to stand up much longer, he led her toward the bed and pulled the covers aside so they could both slip under.
He had lain behind her last time. Now he turned her toward him, holding her tenderly as he kissed and stroked his hands over her lush body, marveling that he was in her bed again.
“Is it all right to make love with you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Thank heavens, he thought. But he didn’t say it aloud. He was already balanced on a fine blade of arousal. Trying to ignore the need for release, he focused on her pleasure, stroking between her legs, over her breasts, bringing her need up to match his.
He felt her body respond, heard the breath hissing in and out of her lungs. But she said nothing.
“Courtney, are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“This time, when I’m inside you, will you let me see you?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
“Then…I’d have to be on top.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
His heart pounded in his chest as he watched her consider her decision. His relief surged as she moved awkwardly, coming up on her knees. He helped her straddle his body, and he looked his fill at her. But she kept her gaze downward.
“Sugar, look at me,” he growled.
She raised her eyes, her face flushed, and he could see she still wasn’t comfortable with his watching her.
“You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. And so damn sexy,” he repeated.
“That’s hard to believe.”
“I told you—every word you hear from my lips is the honest truth.”
She nodded, then began to move above him, and he fought the tide of need raging through him. As he drank in the sight of her riding him, he reached to press his fingers against the spot where her pleasure centered.
She looked down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded and sensual.
“Touch your breasts. Let me see you do that.”
Her flush deepened, but she did as he asked, stroking her fingers over her generous curves and her nipples as she moved faster—her need for release overtaking her.
He felt her inner muscles contract, saw her features go taut. As her climax built, he let himself go. And they both cried out as ecstasy took them.
She folded against his sweat-slick chest, and he helped her to her side.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“No—thank you for helping me stop being so shy.”
He hadn’t known until that moment how exhausted he was. Eyes closed, he cradled her, going into a little fantasy about sleeping beside her every night and waking up beside her in the morning. Sharing his life with her. He’d never thought of settling down. Now he could hardly think of anything else. But he worked for Big Sky. He couldn’t run out on them while things were still hanging.
And what about when they figured out who had set up Fowler? Could he leave then? Or did he have an obligation to Murphy and the men who had been through so much with him? The men who had become like his family.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then struggled to relax so that he wouldn’t convey his tension to Courtney.
She got up several times during the night to use the bathroom. Each time she came back, he reached to touch her arm or her shoulder or the swell of her abdomen.
Just before dawn, as he caressed her tummy, he felt the baby kicking inside her, and his hand jumped.
She laughed softly. “I guess she surprised you.”
“Yeah. She’s strong. What does it feel like from inside?”
“Sometimes she wakes me up, but I like feeling her kick—knowing she’s okay in there.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility—taking care of a kid.”
“I’ll manage,” she said, her voice suddenly stiff.
He wanted to tell her he could help. But he wasn’t free to make any plans with her. Not yet. So he reached for her hand and knitted his fingers with hers.
He slept again, then woke to delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. Pulling on his pants and shirt, he hurried down the hall.
He stopped short when he saw her, looking like an image from the fantasy he had conjured. She was standing at the stove, wearing another one of her cute little dresses under an apron.
He wanted to cross to her and take her in his arms. Instead he stood where he was and cleared his throat.
When she looked up, he said, “I was going to get up and make breakfast.”
“You needed the sleep.”
“So did you.”
“I get uncomfortable, and I have to get out of bed. I thought I might as well fix us something to eat.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I need to tell you something.”
Her shoulders tensed, and he knew that, despite the show of domesticity, she wasn’t feeling any more comfortable this morning than he was himself.
“Before Big Sky dropped me off here yesterday, we were still trying to figure out how Fowler got his orders to torch the battered-women’s shelter.”
“Maybe it was his own idea.”
“It was more like he walked into a trap.”
She considered that. “I guess that must be true. I can almost feel sorry for him.”
“Don’t waste your sympathy on him—or his men. They were a pack of rats.”
She nodded, then gestured toward the stove. “You look as if you could use a cup of coffee.”
“I thought you weren’t drinking it.”
“I’m not. I made it for you. I guess I’m over the upset stomach phase of the pregnancy.”
“I appreciated that. I mean the coffee.” He poured a mugful, standing close enough to touch her. But
he kept his hands wrapped around the warm ceramic because he was feeling less certain of himself in the morning. Last night had been simple. He’d needed her in his arms. This morning there was a lot more at stake. Because he couldn’t deal with the personal stuff, he focused on business.
“Fowler could have thought of the attack, but he didn’t. When he got to the shelter, somebody had rigged the place to go up in flames. Not the front part of the building—the back. Which leads to the conclusion that someone wanted them to go in there and get killed.”
“Who?”
“Somebody ruthless.” He went on quickly because the next part needed saying. “Fowler and his men were going into the shelter to shoot up the dignitaries and audience. He was going to take the first lady and some of the officials. He gave a direct order for one of his men to shoot you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Why are you telling me that?”
“So you’ll watch your back. Like I’ve been trying to get you to do all along.”
“Fowler is dead.”
“Killing you could have been his idea. Or it could have been the people running the show. So I’d like to stay here in the house, until I know you’re safe.”
He watched emotions warring on her face. “I don’t like thinking that someone is hunting me,” she finally said.
“I know. I damn well don’t like it, either.” He set down the mug with a thunk and did what he’d wanted to do since he’d walked into the kitchen. Reaching out, he gathered her into his arms and held on. She stood stiffly for a moment, then melted against him, and he let out a sigh of relief.
“Let me be here for you.”
“For how long?” she said in a barely audible voice.
“For as long as you need me,” he answered, hearing the gritty sound of his own voice.
Her hands tightened on his arms and then released. “I…”
“You don’t need to make any long-range decisions yet,” he assured her when what he wanted to do was extract promises—and make them, too. “We can take this a step at a time. And the first step is to let me move into the house…so I can protect you.”
She thought about that for a few moments, then answered, “Okay.”
“Good. So what do we have for breakfast?” he asked, pretending that was his only concern.
“I made blueberry muffins. And a…Mexican egg soup.”