Now that he was there, he didn’t know quite what to do.
“Dad went to bed?”
“Yeah.”
Mariah was quiet. “You know he’s going to run you through the ringer, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
She shifted until she squeezed her sheet-covered knees to her chest. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Zach reached out and smoothed her hair back. “Oh, I think I’ve been warned enough. Your father strikes me as the type of man to give any guy near his only daughter a hard time.”
She made a small sound. “He’s doing it because you’re a Yank. An outsider.”
“He’s doing it because I’m interested in you.”
She fell silent.
Zach wished he knew what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. Did she really think that Hughie was only interested in besting him, putting him through the ringer because of his outsider status? He bent his knee and leaned in closer. Having been an observer for so much of his life, he believed he’d come to know people pretty well. It wasn’t because he yearned for his idealized version of what life and family should be like to be true. But being raised by his grandmother, with no other family around to interact with, he’d been insatiably curious about the inner workings of the families around him. The next-door neighbors. The families of the friends he’d made in school. The dynamics of a one-parent household versus two. The shyness sometimes found in only children and the confidence of those who had been raised in a house full of children. He’d often lain in bed deep into the night running what he’d seen over and over in his mind. And if he sometimes indulged in thoughts of what it might be like if he could construct a different family environment for himself, wondered what might have happened if his father had stuck around…well, that was between him and his pillow.
But what he’d seen over dinner that night was a crusty old man who loved his daughter very much. You had but to see the way Hughie looked at Mariah to know that. His generous mouth tipped up in a proud smile, his blue eyes glistened with adoration.
And it didn’t take a psychologist to see that Mariah didn’t have a clue how her father felt about her. She interpreted his teasing as criticism. Saw his sharing her childhood stories as a way of undermining her. And she ultimately believed she fell way short of the mark in her father’s eyes.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think telling her that she could do no wrong in Hughie’s eyes was going to help matters any. Besides, he’d only passed a few hours in the household they had spent their lifetimes in. He didn’t feel completely comfortable telling them both they needed to talk.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” Mariah whispered. “You know, to my room.”
A part of him was glad she’d thought that, because he wouldn’t have viewed what he had otherwise. Another was disappointed that she questioned his need for her.
He untangled one of her arms from around her knees then pressed her hand against his pulsing erection through his jeans. “Then you don’t know me very well.”
She explored the thick ridge through the denim. “I was just thinking that I don’t know you at all.”
Zach fought a long groan as she squeezed the knob of his arousal. “I think you know all that matters.”
He heard her lick her lips in the dark and longed to have that saucy mouth of hers on him, all over him. “You think?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He heard the pop of the button on his jeans before he realized she was freeing him from the tight fabric prison, only to be ensconced in the warm sheath of her hand. She wrapped her fingers around his hard heat then slowly moved down, then up again. Then she bent toward him.
Zach caught her before she could touch her mouth to him. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
He heard rather than saw her smile. “Why not?”
“Because it’ll be over before you’ve begun.”
She slowly moved her hand over him again, causing him to groan. “Then tell me about yourself while I’m…well, otherwise occupied.”
He chuckled and threaded his fingers through the hair over her right ear. “What’s say we move to the floor where I can be inside you—where I’ve wanted to be all night?”
She shook her head. “Why don’t you start by telling me what you used to do before you decided to become a P.I.?”
She pressed a kiss to the very end of his erection. He finger-combed her hair back, straining to watch by the moonlight streaming in through the window behind her bed. She dipped her tongue out, tentatively tasting him. Appearing to like what she found, she pressed another kiss to his hypersensitive skin, this time openmouthed, swirling her tongue around him before pulling back again.
Good God, there was something about watching her forge ahead with a plan. He didn’t have to ask if she’d performed oral sex before. It was obvious in her sweet hesitancy that she hadn’t.
She slid her hot, wet mouth down over his arousal and he nearly came right then and there.
She removed her mouth. “You’re not talking.”
He swallowed hard. “Talking? You expect me to do this and carry on a conversation?”
She laughed quietly. “No. I expect you to perform a monologue. I, um, plan to be busy with other things.”
She squeezed him in her fingers.
“Ah,” he murmured. “Okay. What did I do before I decided to become a P.I.,” he repeated, using the tactic every kid learned in school when forced to speak on a subject. Only his mind blanked the instant she moved her mouth over him again, this time applying suction.
“I, um, used to own an, um, tool and die company.” He sucked in his breath with a low hiss, fire burning a trail over his skin as she continued her efforts. “Actually, I still do own it. I just don’t run it on a day-to-day basis anymore.”
She paused as if taking in his words, giving him a moment to regroup. Sweat coated his brow with the effort it was taking to hold back.
He felt her tongue again and groaned.
How much did he tell her? Houston was far from San Antonio and Trueblood, Texas. Did she know about Finders Keepers? Did she know about his great-grandmother Isabella Trueblood? Would she care?
She moved her mouth down until she nearly had his entire length in her mouth. No small task. His hips automatically bucked and he was forced to remove his hand from her hair so he could hold on to the bed to keep himself from toppling over the edge, both figuratively and literally.
“My maternal grandmother died last year, the last of my Indiana blood relatives. I, um, knew I had family in Texas, and decided to look them up. My cousins own a P.I. agency and, well, I decided to see if I had what it took to make it in the family business.”
White-hot heat flooded his brain, making it almost impossible to think. “So my cousins arranged for me to work, incognito, for Jennifer Madison until I get my P.I. legs under me.”
Amazing how quickly Mariah dropped all hesitation and surged ahead with the instincts of a pro. She sucked and licked and worked her hand until he felt like every ounce of blood in his body might explode into her sweet, hot mouth.
Where was he? Oh, yeah. Coming to Madison. He gritted his teeth. Better not to think of the word “coming.” “Then, I…” It was getting harder and harder to concentrate, to hold on to the sentences in his head. “My first case, I was assigned to work with this beautiful, smart, incredibly sexy woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about making love to since.”
Mariah slowed her movements. Zach panted, the only sounds in the room her mouth and tongue and his breathing. He vaguely wondered what he’d said to make her pause. Did she still doubt that he found her irresistibly attractive? Or was it—Mariah moved her mouth down almost all the way, which meant he’d have to be at the back of her thro
at.
All coherent thought scattered and the liquid fire that had been building in his balls exploded in one long stream. Mariah lifted her head and continued stroking him with her hand, prolonging his crisis as she watched, fascinated, his desire flow down over her fingers.
When the flood abated, she leaned down and ran her tongue across the tip of his erection, tasting his desire.
Zach’s entire body shuddered again. Then he urged her back onto the mattress and pinned her under his weight.
“I hope your father’s a heavy sleeper. Because squeaky springs or not, you and I are going to give this old bed a workout.”
Mariah smiled. “Bring it on, cowboy....”
* * *
ZACH AWOKE before dawn the next morning, Mariah spooned against his front, his arm asleep from the awkward positioning required for them both to fit in the narrow twin-size bed. He pressed the button to illuminate his watch then gently retracted his arm from under Mariah’s sleeping head. She murmured something in her sleep and wriggled her bottom against him. His physical reaction was full and immediate, despite the hours they’d gone at it the night before. He briefly splayed his fingers across her hips and pressed her more fully to him, earning another low sound from Mariah. Then he sighed and quietly slipped out of bed.
Considering the noise they’d made last night, between the squeaky bedsprings and Mariah’s soft cries, it didn’t matter how soundly Hughie slept, he had undoubtedly heard what was going on in his daughter’s room. And Zach wanted to soften whatever reaction he was sure to receive by getting into the kitchen first and fixing breakfast.
He slid into his jeans, then realized he would have to go back to the guest room for the remainder of his things. Damn. He listened for noises on the other side of the door, then opened it. The coast was clear. He closed the door after himself then crept down the hall…and ran smack-dab into Hughie Clayborn coming from the opposite direction.
Aw, hell.
“Morning,” Zach said quietly.
“Morning yourself,” Hughie said just as quietly, then cleared his throat.
Zach squinted at the older man in the dim light. If he wasn’t mistaken, Hughie was wearing the same clothes he had the night before. And the undeniable scent of a woman’s perfume filled Zach’s nose.
He raised his brows, realizing that Hughie hadn’t caught him coming from Mariah’s room. Rather, Zach had caught Hughie sneaking back in after a midnight rendezvous of his own.
Here he and Mariah had been afraid of making too much noise, of waking Hughie up, and Hughie had been out of the house all along, likely using the excuse of calling it an early night to do some midnight creeping of his own.
Zach started to chuckle, then rubbed his fingers over the stubble covering his jaw. “I, was, just heading for the bathroom.”
“Go on ahead.” Hughie pointed toward a door down the hall. “I’ll, uh, meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”
Zach nodded and began to pass him.
“Oh, and Letterman?”
Zach glanced at him.
“What you’ve seen…this stays between us, ya hear?”
Zach was certainly in no position to censure the other man for his behavior, because he’d behaved just as badly if not worse. “Does Mariah know?”
Hughie cursed under his breath. “No. Why in the hell do you think I just asked you to keep quiet?”
Zach grinned and headed for the bathroom.
* * *
MARIAH AWOKE to sunlight streaming across her bed. She closed her eyes again and stretched, feeling muscles she couldn’t remember having. Then the bedsprings squeaked and she bolted upright, everything from the night before rushing back.
Oh, God, her dad…
She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands. Oh, God, oh God, oh God. Sure, she and Zach had tried to keep quiet, but it had been virtually impossible on the old bed…and Zach had urged her so far outside herself that she’d been incapable of not crying out.
She’d never had anyone stay the night before, not even a girlfriend when she was younger. The first houseguest they had who wasn’t a ranch hand or family, and she turned into a sexual hellcat.
A hellcat? Heck, she didn’t even recognize herself anymore. The Mariah from three days ago would never have done anything like she had over the past two. She’d shamelessly pleasured herself while Zach watched. Okay, she hadn’t known he was there, but that hadn’t stopped her from feeling hot all over again just thinking about him quietly standing in the dark, his gaze on her while she reached climax by herself.
In fact, ever since meeting Zach, her body seemed to hum in some sort of high state of awareness. Her thighs were always damp. Her pulse thrummed thickly. And her breasts were always tight, her nipples puckered, as if longing for the touch of Zach’s talented mouth.
That just wasn’t like her. She didn’t go around thinking about sex twenty-four/seven. The only time she used to think about sex was when she was having it. Now when she was having it, she was incapable of thinking about anything else, and when she wasn’t having it, she wanted to be having it. Everything else came a very distant second.
She peeked at the clock on her bedside table and catapulted from the bed. After ten. Her heart raced and her gaze leaped from here to there as if she’d been caught sleeping on the job. She hadn’t slept that late since…well, since she couldn’t remember when. She had a business to run. A guest to look after. A case to finish. And here she was lolling about in bed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if all she wanted to do was stay in the bed that smelled like her and Zach and long hours of making love and wait until they could take up where they’d left off.
What was she thinking?
She stared at the bed, thinking she should change the sheets. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she hastily straightened the coverlet, gathered her things for a shower, then paused next to the nightstand and picked up the cordless phone there, dialing the office with her thumb.
“George?”
“Yo, Mar.”
Yo? When had he started saying “yo”? She sighed, telling herself she should be thankful he’d picked up the phone at all, much less on the second ring.
She glanced out the window, wondering what time Zach had left with her father and when they would be getting back. She didn’t kid herself into thinking Zach would last the whole day. But did that mean she should put her day on hold and wait for him?
She decided that, no, it didn’t. She’d warned him against going out on the range with her father. Now he would have to pay the price.
“George, I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be in a little late this morning.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot.” For a guy who was perpetually late, he was awfully judgmental this morning. “I’ve been busy…following up on some leads.”
“Mmm.”
Mariah felt her face burn. George knew exactly what she’d been doing, that the only leads she’d been following up on had been attached to Zach Letterman.
“Anything happen this morning?”
A shuffling of paper on the other end of the line. Mariah imagined him putting aside a magazine. “Yes, Justin called again.”
A sharp pain stabbed Mariah behind the eyes.
“You know you really should talk to him, Mar. The guy sounds desperate.”
“That’s because he is desperate. Desperately dim-witted.” She blew out a long breath. “Okay, maybe I’ll stop off at the Triple S and see what he wants.”
“Good.”
“Any developments on our current cases?”
Silence.
“George?”
“Nope. Not a one.”
“Okay. Oh, and thanks for bringing the clothes out yesterday. I appreciat
e it.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I just did.”
She could tell he was working to control himself.
“Oh, George?”
“Hmm?”
Mariah twisted her lips and looked out the window at the range again. “I was hoping you could do something for me.”
He seemed instantly alert. “What is it?”
Mariah raised her brows. “Run a check on Zach Letterman of Indianapolis, Indiana. Just your typical check.”
“Why?”
Why, indeed?
“I’m just a little curious about the guy I’m…working with, that’s all.”
She’d nearly said “sleeping” with, and was glad she’d caught herself in time.
“You got it. I take it you want this on the Q.T.?”
“Like if you see Zach it wouldn’t be a good idea to mention it to him? Yeah.”
“You don’t think he’s an ax murderer or anything, do you?”
Mariah laughed. “Just run the check, George.”
“Gotcha.”
Mariah pressed the disconnect button and stood for long moments clutching her clothes to her chest and staring out the window. She told herself that she wasn’t betraying any kind of trust by checking into Zach’s background. She was just curious.
And if it were true that curiosity had killed the cat…well, she’d deal with that if it happened. She had something in mind that she didn’t think Zach would agree with, but she felt compelled to do it anyway. But first she had to figure out if she could do it at all.
10
NO SERVICE.
Zach closed his cell phone and ran his hand across his brow to stanch the flow of sweat pouring out from under his hat. Satan, the black stallion he’d been given to ride that morning, neighed and stepped from here to there, never having stood still since the moment he’d climbed into the saddle at six that morning.
Hughie glanced back at him from where he rode some ten yards ahead, his expression as self-satisfied as they came. Zach gently nudged the horse onward to catch up to the man who had set out to make his life a living hell this morning, and was succeeding quite admirably.
Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) Page 27