His reaction excited her and she gripped him in her hand, ran her thumb over his tip, smearing the thick liquid she found there. She brought her thumb to her lips and while he watched, panting through open lips, she licked it off.
“Mia,” he groaned.
Yes, she thought, heat and desire pulsing through her. I like this.
She leaned over him, licked him from base to tip and he groaned, twitching beneath her. She sucked him into her mouth, loving the masculine scent of him and he yelled, fisting his hands into her hair, showing her what he wanted, how fast, how hard.
He praised her, his words raunchy and rough, and she wanted to laugh with delight. With how damn alive she felt. How connected to him and to her own womanhood. Her own power.
She used her hands, stroking him against the rhythm of her mouth, and he really seemed to like that. So she did it some more.
Until he pulled her away, his hands clumsy. His face was stony. She watched him, spellbound, her body aching, as he kicked off the rest of his clothes and turned toward her—a different Jack.
A Jack with all that urbane intelligence turned off. A Jack without the distance his brain put between himself and the rest of the world.
He was focused—a hundred percent—on her.
He tore off her pants, pushed down her underwear, and the violence was exhilarating. She’d driven him to this place, where he barely had control. Where that powerful brain of his was negated by his physical needs.
He spread her legs and rolled on top of her. He eased his fingers between them and she knew he was gauging her readiness.
She was more than ready.
When his fingers touched the wet heat of her, he kissed her. Hard.
He shifted again and when he thrust inside her, she screamed in welcome. The sound tearing out of some hidden place inside her. She relished his lack of control, but in truth, was scared of losing her own.
She struggled against him for a second, trying to find space for herself, the distance she needed to keep herself safe.
“No, Mia,” he said, forcing her to look at him. He pushed himself high and hard and she gasped, choking on pleasure. “Don’t pull away. Not now.”
“Jack—”
“This is us. Right here. Right now,” he said, his eyes boring into hers as he started to move. It was so beautiful she nearly cried.
Us, she thought, matching his rhythm, his violence.
Distance, safety? The need was gone, the urge erased.
He bent his head, found her nipple with his mouth, lips and tongue. He thrust and kissed and sucked, driving her somewhere she’d never been. Didn’t even know existed.
She bit her lip against a thousand screams. She closed her mouth against the I love you and the I need you and please, please don’t leave me that clawed to be free.
Pleasure, thick and heady, rolled through her, gathering speed, pulling at every cell. For a second she was scared, scared of letting go quite this much, but then Jack slid his fingers through hers and buried his face in her neck.
“I love you,” he whispered and she exploded.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE HOUSE WAS QUIET, but Walter knew Sandra wasn’t sleeping. He’d heard her in the kitchen, her soft footfalls leading to the living room.
He waited a few moments and then went to find her.
“Walter?” Her voice was a sweet caress.
Fight for what you want, he told himself.
“Evening, Sandra,” he said.
“What’s got you wandering around so late?”
“I was…” He stopped the lie on his lips.
Fight, he told himself, but he didn’t know exactly how to do that. He figured he’d do what he did with Jack. He’d start with the truth.
“I was looking for you,” he said.
His eyes adjusted to the light and he saw her curled up in the couch, wrapped in that blue shawl. She looked like a robin’s egg and he wanted to pick her up, hold her in his arms.
“Well, you found me,” she said and he heard something different in her voice, something that turned that smile of hers into a lie. Sadness.
She’d been sitting here crying.
“Are you all right?” he asked, sitting down next to her, so aware of her leg inches away from his.
“I am, Walter,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I am fine. I think, maybe, being in this house is harder than I thought it would be.”
His heart tripped and his “fight for what you want” pep talk died a scared little death.
“You miss your husband,” he whispered.
“I do.” Her voice cracked. “I do.” She took a deep breath and began to stand up. “I should go,” she said, but he put his hand on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin under the shawl. He wanted to hug her, pull her into his arms, rub his hands down the elegant curve of her back—give and take whatever comfort they could offer each other.
He’d been frozen for so long, since way before Jack was even born.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Sandra,” he pleaded, but she shook her head, the tension ratcheting up until it felt as though the whole roof might blow off.
“Please,” he whispered, wanting to take away her pain.
“I’m so mad!” she yelled and he was so shocked he reached for her, but she slapped at his hand and the eyes she turned on him were livid. “I’m so mad at you,” she hissed.
“Me?”
“This was my home. I cared for it. I cared for every person here and you let that woman—” She stopped, shaking her head, gathering herself together. “I’m sorry, Walter. It’s been a long night and I think I should just go.”
“I think you should say what you need to say,” he told her, seeing the undeniable need in her. What he had to tell her seemed useless in front of all her suppressed feelings. He felt like a fool, coming in here with plans to unburden his pathetic heart, while she stewed in an anger he’d never seen.
She clenched the ends of that shawl in bone-white fists. “I’m angry that you let that woman ruin this home, your family, all because you were a coward.”
He flinched, but stayed silent. Sandra had a good head of steam on and showed no sign of stopping.
“A.J. was your best friend, he worked this land beside you and you let his family get pushed out of the only home we’d ever known, weeks after his death, before we even had a stone on his grave.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“I know you are, Walter. You’re a sorry man. And I thought I could come back here and feel nothing, but I have twenty-five years of living in these walls and if I’d had my way I would have died here and been buried right beside my husband. And I was robbed of that.”
More apologies rose to his lips, but he kept quiet, his heart beating a ragged rhythm in his chest.
“Lucy and I will be leaving soon,” she said.
“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “You can stay. I…I would like you to stay.”
She watched him a long time and finally shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s too late. Lucy’s business is in L.A., and that’s where we belong.”
He wanted to argue with her—hell, any fool could see she wanted to stay here. But it wasn’t his place.
“Good night, Walter,” she breathed and left, silently crossing the living room.
When she was gone and the shadows turned from purple to black, he took a deep breath.
“I love you,” he whispered, letting loose the words he’d come into the room to say. “I’ve always loved you.”
Silence answered him, the silence of an almost empty house, like a cave with nothing but cobwebs and echoes. Ghosts of a life that might have been.
“I need a drink,” he muttered and went in search of his bottle.
MIA WAS A COUNTRY MUSIC SONG brought to life. Curled up against her husband on the bench seat of her pickup. The sweet smell of spring turning to summer rolling in through the open windows.
All they needed was one of t
he dogs. Maybe a kid.
The thought was bittersweet and she pushed it away before it could grow into a wish.
“Why did your dad marry your mother?” she asked, and Jack shook his head.
“We haven’t talked about it,” he said. “Frankly, I don’t want to bring it up.”
Mia hummed in response. Unable to help herself, she tilted her nose closer to his chest, just so she could smell him. Laundry soap and hard work and just a little bit of sex.
“Are you sniffing me?”
“Yep. You smell good. Like sex.”
Jack’s chuckle rumbled under her ear and she didn’t know when she’d ever felt this happy. This…complete.
“I’m leaving day after tomorrow,” he said.
Great, she thought, leaning away from the magnetic heat of the man she loved. Good feeling gone.
He braked and threw the truck into Park. The lights from the ranch were just around the corner and Mia wished she were there right now so she could hide out in her room and avoid this goodbye. She’d had enough of them. Wasn’t strong enough to do it again, with a brave smile and dry eyes.
Part of her was dying and she didn’t want to pretend otherwise.
“Come with me,” he said, shocking her. “I want you to come. I meant what I said on that roof. I love you, Mia.” She opened her mouth, but nothing but a choked gasp came out. “It’s only a few days. With branding done, Chris and the boys can handle—”
“Okay,” she breathed. She knew what she was doing, the great gamble she was taking against terrible odds, but she couldn’t help it. Her better judgment was in some kind sex-sated coma and her heart was running the show.
“Okay?” he repeated, as surprised as she was that she’d agreed. She nodded, unable to stop the smile, the strange giggle that erupted from all her happy places. He hauled her into his arms. “Oh, my God, Mia,” he breathed into her hair. “Thank you. Thank you so much, I know how hard—”
“We both do,” she said, putting her hands over his mouth before he woke up her better judgment. “Let’s leave it at that.”
“You won’t be sorry,” he said, kissing her lips, her cheeks. “I promise you, you won’t be sorry.”
I hope not, she thought. I really hope not.
“YOU’RE GOING WITH HIM?” Lucy asked the next morning, standing in Mia’s bedroom door like a Roman guard. All she was missing was a sword and shield. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“She is trying to make her marriage work,” Sandra said. Mom, opposite of Lucy, was helping her pack. No doubt putting baby prayers all over Mia’s clothes.
“She is trying to break her own heart. Again.” Lucy stepped into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
“I think…” Mia took a deep breath and took the black dress Lucy had loaned her for the Santa Barbara trip out of her closet. “I think it’s going to be okay and I know you just want the best for me, Lucy. But I think…I think Jack is the best for me.”
“Listen to you,” Lucy said. “You’re not even sure yourself and you’re trying to convince me?”
Mia stared at her sister for a long time. “I know it seems crazy,” she whispered.
“Totally loco,” Lucy agreed.
“But…I can’t not do it,” she said. “I can’t let him go without trying everything I can to make my marriage work.”
“That’s my girl,” Sandra said, taking the dress from Mia’s hands. “Marriage takes effort. Relationships take effort. Your sister doesn’t know this because she is too busy to date.”
“Oh, ho!” Mia laughed and Lucy groaned. “Score one for Mom.”
“Fine,” Lucy said. “But if you’re going away for the weekend, you’re not taking these.” Lucy reached into Mia’s suitcase and pulled out a handful of cotton underwear.
“Hey!” Mia said, trying to grab them back.
“Your sister is right. That underwear does not belong on a weekend with your husband,” Sandra said, and Lucy and Mia shared a quick horrified expression. “What?” Sandra asked, a vixen’s smile on her lips. “Your father was a happily married man for thirty-six years and it wasn’t because I’m a good cook.”
Lucy dug through Mia’s drawers for the silk and lace scraps that she bought her every year for her birthday.
“Now,” Sandra said, zipping up the packed bag. “Since you are back on your feet and everything seems to be in hand here, I think it’s time Lucy and I headed home.”
“What?” Mia asked.
“Yeah, what?” Lucy seconded.
“We are not needed here,” Sandra said with a shrug.
“You’re kidding, right?” Mia asked, wondering why her mother was saying this. “You’ve made this house a home again, Mom. Honestly, you can’t leave now.”
“But Lucy’s work—”
“Can keep,” Lucy said, and Mia turned to her sister, surprised to hear her volunteer to stay. “It can,” Lucy said. “And the truth is, I want to be here when you get back. I want to see for myself that you’re okay.”
“I’ll be fine,” Mia said, stroking her sister’s shoulder.
“But thank you.”
Sandra was shaking her head. “I really think it’s time.”
“Mom,” Mia said, “I know Walter seems all right now, but two months ago the man could barely walk. I would feel a lot better leaving for a few days if I knew someone was here to watch him.”
“I am not that man’s nursemaid,” Sandra said with more venom than Mia had heard from her mother in years.
She shot a quick glance at her sister, who seemed just as baffled at their mother’s sudden adamant desire to leave.
“I know you’re not and I wouldn’t dream of asking you to be. The truth is, he’ll probably be fine, but I would feel better knowing you were here. To help if it was needed.”
Mom could never resist a call to help, but still she seemed reluctant, so Mia pulled out the big guns.
“For me.”
Sandra groaned and muttered something in Spanish that Mia couldn’t quite hear.
“She just put double the baby-making curses on you,” Lucy whispered.
“They are prayers,” Sandra said, wrapping her arms around her girls. Mia dove into the hug, hauling her family against her.
“Fine,” Sandra whispered. “We’ll stay until you come back, but then we leave.”
“Okay,” Mia agreed.
The world was different today. Colored in shades of hope and happiness, and she couldn’t find it in herself to doubt. It seemed like sacrilege in the face of all this love.
So she didn’t doubt. She believed, with her whole heart, that her life was beginning anew.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT DAY, a thick tension surrounded Jack. Standing next to him made Mia feel as if she was in quicksand up to her neck. She couldn’t even breathe as they stopped in front of the conference room doors.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.
He nodded stiffly, running a hand down his tie. “It’s just a formality,” he said. “I’ve already resigned.”
She didn’t say anything; the argument over his resignation had nearly ruined the drive from the ranch. She felt he was making a decision based on grief and in a few years’ time, he’d regret it. He’d wish for his old life back.
“Have some faith in me, Mia,” he’d said. “I know my own mind.”
It had been an inauspicious beginning to a weekend that had only gone downhill. Dinner last night had been stilted. In a college town like San Luis Obispo, everyone knew everyone. The second she and Jack sat down to eat, it seemed as though everyone in town came by to see how he was doing and to express their condolences over Oliver.
Jack had sat there with so much grief in his face she’d had to go to the bathroom to dry her eyes.
He’d dropped her back at his apartment, and gone to the university to take care of some loose ends. His condo was a two-bedroom with a beautiful view of the mountains and almost
totally devoid of any sign of life, much less personality.
Looking in the cupboard at his two coffee cups and three plates, she started to believe that maybe he did know his own mind. Maybe he was ready to leave this empty life he lived behind.
That sense was reinforced when he came home last night, sliding into his king-size bed and holding her so tight she couldn’t tell his heartbeat from hers.
“I’m sorry,” he’d whispered. “I’ve been so distant. This is harder than I thought.”
“It’s okay,” she’d said, rolling over in his arms, cup ping his face in her hands. She didn’t believe her own assurances, but she wanted him to believe it.
And now, in front of the conference room doors, Jack looked like a man heading toward the hangman’s noose.
“You don’t still blame yourself, do you?” she asked, smoothing down the worst of his haywire hair.
She should have given him a haircut before they left the ranch.
“It’s not that simple, Mia,” he said, moving away from her touch. She tried not to take it personally, but everything was so screwed up. Jack was living in his head again and she couldn’t figure out how to reach him. “I know I’m not the reason they’re dead, but I would feel a whole lot better if I had done everything in my power…” He shook his head, his breath shaking when he exhaled. “Christ, if I had just done my job. Maybe…”
Her heart ached for him and as much as she wanted to touch him, she couldn’t. Between the tension and his mood, the arguments they’d already had about this, she didn’t know how to navigate this situation. Doubt, whisper-thin but poisonous, crept in along the seams of her belief. Her love.
You don’t fit in here, doubt said. His world has no room for you.
But he was leaving this world behind, she reminded herself, throwing her shoulders back in the black dress.
A dress that was totally inappropriate, she knew, but it was the only slightly nice thing she had. It didn’t feel right to wear jeans and cowboy boots and that was all she owned.
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