Montana Mavericks Christmas

by Susan Mallery

  Faster and faster, everything so incredibly perfect until she had no choice but to surrender to the climax. As her body began to shudder, she felt him stiffen. He breathed her name as they both spent themselves in the glory of their joining.

  “At least the cleanup was easy,” Darcy muttered to herself as she drove to the Hip Hop Café twenty minutes later.

  She avoided glancing at the clock in the dash—she already knew that she was late. She couldn’t believe it. After five years of near-perfect behavior, she’d lost control twice in less than twenty-four hours—and with the same man. Although she supposed that was better than losing control with a different man. Apparently all she had to do was avoid Mark and she could return to her previously calm, if lonely, existence.

  She couldn’t believe they’d done it again. She also couldn’t believe how good it had been. In her past, lovemaking had been something the man wanted. She had enjoyed herself on rare occasions but she’d never felt the earth move. Nor had she ever done it in the shower, or in that particular position. It had been—she shivered—delightful.

  She pulled into the back parking lot of the Hip Hop. There were three other employee cars there, along with four belonging to customers. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least it was the morning after Thanksgiving and most people were going to still be too stuffed with turkey to bother with breakfast out. Trying not to notice it was six thirty-five, she grabbed her purse and dove out of the car.

  “I know, I know,” she said as she entered the alcove with the lockers and quickly put away her things. She looked at Janie and sighed. ”I’m twenty minutes late. I’m really sorry.”

  Janie shrugged off her apology. “Darcy, this is the first time in what—six months? We’re not even busy. I think I can cut you some slack.”

  “Thanks. It won’t happen again.”

  At least she didn’t think it would. She couldn’t imagine Mark showing up at her door to make love with her every morning. Although the thought of that made her heat up in the best way possible.

  “How was your Thanksgiving?” her boss asked.

  Darcy tied on her apron and tried not to blush. “Great,” she said, hurrying toward the front of the café. Janie followed. ”I’d planned on having several people over. Mostly ones with nowhere to go on the holiday. But everyone canceled on me so Mark Kincaid was my only guest.”

  She grabbed a pot of coffee and quickly made a swing through the restaurant. There were only three occupied tables, along with a single man at the counter. Everyone already had food, except for one couple ready to order. She wrote their requests onto her pad, then delivered the information to the kitchen.

  Janie was waiting for her back by the coffeemaker. Her long blond ponytail swished like a horse’s tail as she shook her head. “Excuse me, but did you say Mark Kincaid?”

  Darcy smiled and prayed that she didn’t look guilty. “Uhhuh. He lives next door to me and he’s a regular here. I don’t see him with a lot of people so I thought he might be alone for the holiday. This time of year can be tough on people who don’t have family locally.”

  Janie stared at her as if she were crazy. “So you just invited him over?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And he just accepted?”

  Darcy tried to act casual. “Sure. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. Since he moved back to Whitehorn, Mark hasn’t exactly been social.” Janie’s expression turned speculative. “Anything interesting to report?”

  “Gee, he’s really nice.”

  “And?”

  Darcy held her gaze and shrugged. “And what? Like I said, he’s a nice guy. Kind of quiet. Hates vegetables.”

  Janie laughed. “I’m not surprised. He always refuses a salad when he comes in for lunch or dinner. I didn’t know you knew him.” Her humor faded. ”I’m glad he joined you for Thanksgiving. If you hadn’t invited him over, I suspect he would have been alone.”

  Darcy glanced around to make sure her customers didn’t need her, then lowered her voice. “I know he doesn’t have family in town. I get the impression he doesn’t have much family anywhere.”

  “Just his sister, Maddie. His parents died when he was in college.” Janie paused, as if trying to remember. “There was another relative. A great-aunt, I think. Mark took care of Maddie until he graduated from college, then his aunt took over so he could go to New York.”

  Darcy tried not to read too much into the information. So Mark had taken care of his sister. They had that in common, but little else. “Where is Maddie now?”

  “On the road somewhere. She’s a barrel racer and travels around to the different rodeos. She doesn’t get back here much.”

  The door to the café opened and two couples entered. Darcy seated them, then took their orders. By then she had food to deliver, coffee to refill and more customers to serve. It might not be as busy as a regular workday, but she was the only waitress on duty.

  She was nearly an hour into her shift when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She was in the process of buttering toast and the bread nearly slipped from her fingers. Even knowing what she was going to see, she couldn’t help turning around.

  Sure enough, Mark Kincaid had just walked into the Hip Hop Café. Across the worn linoleum and a half dozen or so people, they stared at each other. There was something in his eyes—a connection built by remembered passion—that made her insides go up in flames.

  Don’t go there, she warned herself. Men like him were heartbreak city. But while her head was very willing to listen to the excellent advice, the rest of her body wasn’t willing to be so cooperative.

  Five

  Mark slid into his usual booth. Except for the slight twinkle in his eye and the faint smile teasing the corners of his mouth, he looked completely normal. Darcy was envious. If only she felt that way. Her stomach had taken up permanent residence in her toes and her hands actually shook as she grabbed the coffeepot and made her way to his table.

  “Good morning,” she mumbled, not able to meet his gaze. She poured coffee, careful not to spill. “Have you decided, or do you need a few minutes?”

  “Good morning, Darcy.”

  She finished pouring and forced herself to look at him. His smile broadened.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked.

  Under other circumstances it could be considered a reasonable question, but this situation was anything but normal. After all, less than two hours before, they’d been making passionate love in her shower. Last night…

  She swallowed, not wanting to think about last night and all the things they’d done.

  “I’m, um, what was the question?”

  His smile took on a very self-satisfied quality that made her want to smack him. He looked like what he was—a smug male who had just recently sexually pleased a woman.

  “About your order?” She grabbed her pad and pencil from her apron.

  “The usual. Western omelette, side of bacon. You’ve already brought me the coffee.”

  Her protest was automatic. “Mark, you can’t keep eating like this. It’s so unhealthy. Aren’t you worried about dying young or getting heart disease?”

  He leaned close. Instinctively she did the same, shifting so that their faces were only a few inches apart.

  “I appreciate the concern,” he murmured. “However, in the past day or so, I’ve had a lot of extra exercise and I really need to keep up my strength.”

  She glared at him, unable to believe what he’d just said. At the same time, heat flared in her cheeks and she knew that she was blushing. The man could be really annoying…in the most charming way possible.

  She turned to leave. He stopped her with a light touch on her arm.

  “Why don’t you bring me some pumpkin bread, too. I enjoyed it the last time I had some. Even if it is made with vegetables.”

  She hated that he complimented her cooking, mostly because it made her go all soft and mushy inside.

  “You�
��re not playing fair,” she protested.

  “I know.”

  She walked off without saying anything else. There were more customers who needed her attention and she really had to get away from Mark before she said or did something stupid.

  It had been a lot of years since she’d had to deal with the awkwardness of “the morning after.” She remembered the time as being fraught with peril. Apparently her time out of the dating game hadn’t changed that particular fact.

  Darcy took orders from new customers, delivered hot food and avoided Mark right up until his breakfast was ready. Then she had no choice but to return to his table. She set down the plate with the omelette, along with two smaller dishes containing the bacon and pumpkin bread.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Everything looks great.”

  “I’ll pass along the compliment.”

  “Especially you.”

  Her heart did a quick double beat. “Mark, don’t.”

  “Why not? It’s true.” He leaned toward her. “How about tonight?”

  Her insides quivered. Did she want this? Him in her house…in her? Heat poured through her at the thought. Impulses weren’t a part of her current life, so why was she so quick to give in now? She wanted to tell herself that she was crazy. She felt crazy. But she also felt excited about something other than finding Dirk a good school for the first time in years. Was that so bad?

  “Darcy?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “I didn’t imagine the question would be so hard.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “Why?”

  Because he represented temptation, she thought. The question was how would she pay for giving in? Darcy knew any relationship with Mark, even one primarily located in the bedroom, was going to cost her a lot.

  Did she mind that? The problem was she’d been so lonely for so long. Mark made her remember that she was still alive and very much a woman. Shouldn’t she be allowed to have a temporary diversion in her life?

  A sound at the door interrupted her musings. She looked up and saw Homer Gilmore wander into the café. He glanced around fearfully, as if expecting someone to pounce. Darcy turned to Janie, who looked as concerned and undecided as she, Darcy, felt.

  Homer was the town eccentric. Well into his seventies and losing his faculties, he often wandered around town, talking to himself. He was usually harmless, but with his long gray hair, slippers and bathrobe, he was just enough outside of normal to be scary.

  Darcy squared her shoulders and approached the old man. “Morning, Mr. Gilmore,” she said cheerfully. “Can I get you something?”

  Homer glared at her, muttering something she couldn’t understand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janie heading for the phone, no doubt to call Homer’s nurse to come and get him.

  “I’ll take care of this.”

  The familiar voice caught her by surprise. Darcy turned as Mark approached. He gently took Homer by the arm.

  “Come on, Mr. Gilmore. I’m with the sheriff’s office. Mark Kincaid. Why don’t I see you home?”

  Homer glared at him, then his wild eyes cleared slightly and he nodded.

  “Can you wrap up my breakfast?” Mark asked. ”I’ll pick it up on my way back. I’ll pay my bill then, too.”

  “No problem. It’s not as if I don’t know where you live.”

  He grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it, then ushered Homer out of the Hip Hop. Darcy watched them go. Her chest tightened, but with more than nervousness and anticipation. She could accept Mark being handsome, sexy and very good in bed. What she didn’t want was for him to be nice. If she thought he was a decent guy, and charming, she would have a whole lot more trouble keeping her emotions in check and her heart on a very short leash.

  She reminded herself that the last thing she needed was to fall for a guy. She knew what happened when she did. There was no point in wishing this time would be different.

  Mark kept his finger on the channel button of the remote. He was clicking through stations so quickly there was no way he could see what was on. But flipping through the offerings was better than pacing. Which is what he really wanted to do.

  He glanced at his watch, then back at the television. Five-forty. When he’d returned to the Hip Hop to pick up his breakfast, Darcy had agreed to see him that night. He’d told her he would be over at six. As they lived in the same building, there was no way he could justify leaving early to beat traffic.

  To think that the previous day he’d been dreading going there for Thanksgiving. He’d thought he would be bored and out of place. He thought she wasn’t anything but a do-gooder with a plan to rule the world with tofu. He’d been wrong.

  She’d been smart and funny, not to mention incredibly sexy. He hadn’t planned on making love with her, but he couldn’t be sorry that it had happened. Not yesterday or this morning.

  His body stirred at the memory of their time in her shower. She had the ability to turn him on in a nanosecond. He’d never experienced anything like it before.

  He leaned back in his chair, releasing the remote so the television stayed on a sports channel. This brief sex-only relationship with Darcy was exactly what he needed. With Sylvia he’d thought he’d found “the one.” He’d wanted to settle down, marry her and have a couple of kids. She’d shown him that dreams like that were for idiots.

  Without meaning to, he remembered Sylvia smiling at him the first time they’d met. He’d thought she’d been as taken with him as he’d been with her. With the distance and wisdom of hindsight, he realized that every movement, every touch, every word had been calculated. She’d had a goal when she’d “accidentally” locked herself out of her place and had used his phone to call the locksmith. He’d been the sucker to fall in with her plans.

  He’d learned the lesson well. Love wasn’t a part of his plan. But sex. That was something else entirely. For the first time since the shooting he felt himself anticipating something other than the absence of pain.

  He was returning to life. That it was happening wasn’t much of a surprise. It had been inevitable. The how was something else. Darcy was an unexpected pleasure. He would enjoy this while it lasted and then move on. Never again would he allow his heart to be engaged.

  Darcy frantically hung discarded outfits back on hangers. She’d changed her clothes five times in the past thirty minutes and she was determined not to do it again. What did it matter what she had on? Mark wasn’t coming over to see her dressed…he was far more interested in having her undressed. This was all about sex. She had on her best bra-and-panty set to prove it. She was having an adult relationship based purely on physical attraction. People did it all the time. It was very sophisticated.

  It was also very not her.

  Darcy sank onto the bed and covered her face with her hands. What was she doing? While she felt excited and quivery at the thought of Mark coming over in a few minutes, she also felt empty inside. Empty and cheap and bad about herself. The feeling was oddly familiar and it took her several seconds to figure out when she’d last experienced the sensation.

  Before her parents had died, she thought sadly. Back when she’d been shallow and selfish, living only for the moment. Back when the kind of car a guy drove was far more important than something like honesty or compassion. When looks had mattered more than character. She dropped her hands to her sides.

  She’d worked hard to change herself. While the initial plunge into the world of reality had come at the hand of circumstance, once she’d been forced to face her own lacking character, she had done her best to do better. Five years later, she could honestly say she was proud of who she was.

  Was she proud after last night or this morning?

  The lovemaking had been incredible. Darcy had forgotten what it was like to have a man touch her bare skin—to feel his body next to hers, entering hers. She’d been starved and Mark had fed her. But now what? Did she really want to have an affair with a man she barely knew? Or did she want something
more?

  She wasn’t crazy enough to think she was searching for true love. She had her doubts about being lucky enough to find someone who would adore her and be willing to deal with Dirk. She knew her brother was an amazing person, but not everyone could look past his developmental issues to see the gentle heart inside.

  So she’d given up on the fairy tale, instead resigning herself to a life alone. The move to Whitehorn had cut her off from her hard-won support group. She needed to make friends, finding people she could both like and trust.

  But would Mark be interested in being a friend or was he only in it for what he could get?

  * * *

  Mark knocked on Darcy’s front door at exactly two minutes before six. He’d wanted to wait until a couple of minutes past, but he’d been too eager, too aroused. He’d already imagined her opening the door and ushering him inside. He’d thought of gathering her in his arms and kissing her until they were both breathless with passion.

  But reality didn’t live up to fantasy. For one thing, Darcy wasn’t smiling when she opened her door. For another, she wouldn’t look at him.

  Her whispered hello did little to alleviate the sudden ache in his gut.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as she stepped into her living room.

  “Nothing.” She brushed her hands against her black slacks and motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa.

  He hesitated. While he appreciated the polite gesture, he couldn’t help remembering that twenty-four hours before they’d been making love on that same piece of furniture.

  “Darcy?”

  She crossed to the window and parted the blinds to look out. ”I’m fine, Mark. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off. She glanced at him, then away. ”You’re not going to like this.”

  The bad feeling got worse. “Why don’t you say it and let me be the judge?”