by Lisa Jackson
Denver wanted to believe her. She could see it in his eyes. Staring up at him from the tangled cloud of red-gold framing her face, her hazel eyes leveled on him, she knew he wanted to believe her.
“I think you’d better leave,” she said slowly, trying to deny the want that still caused her limbs to tingle, her eyes to shine.
“It’s too late for that, Tessa,” he whispered, kissing her neck, letting his lips linger against her sensitive skin. “I can’t go now.”
“Then, please, Denver. Please trust me. There’s never been anyone but you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I would never lie! Not about this!”
“I believe you, Tess,” he whispered hoarsely, releasing her wrists. His fingers slid up her arms, across her back, tracing the curve of her spine before he cupped her buttocks.
“I—I’ve only been with you.”
He groaned, a deep, primal sound of pain and pleasure as he kissed her again, his lips crashing down on hers with a need so urgent she couldn’t resist. Her hands moved across his shoulders, feeling each firm muscle before slowly sliding down his arms.
When Denver guided her fingers lower still, she didn’t resist, and her feather-light touches stoked fires already raging deep in his loins as he moved easily over her and parted her legs.
“No regrets?” he whispered, poised over her.
She swallowed but shook her head and held his gaze. “No regrets,” she vowed.
Slowly he plunged deep into the warmest part of her, sheathing himself in her womanhood.
Gasping, Tessa twined her arms around his neck. Her body moved in a magic rhythm with his and she couldn’t stop. Not in her dreams had she felt this rapture, this soaring of her spirit. “Denver, oh, Denver,” she whispered until she could no longer speak—could only feel. He pushed her higher and higher, upward to a sky as blue as his eyes.
“Denver!” she cried hoarsely as the sky seemed to splinter and her body jolted. He fell against her, breathing raggedly, drenched in sweat and whispering her name.
Tessa welcomed his weight. Her arms encircled his chest, and she pressed light kisses to his cheek. Unbidden tears formed in her eyes, hot little pools that drizzled down her cheeks.
Denver touched her lashes, wiping the silent drops away with his thumb. “Tears?” he asked.
“Tears, yes,” she whispered, sniffing, “but no regrets.”
He chuckled—a deep, rumbling sound—as he gathered her into his arms and held her. “Sleep,” he murmured into her hair.
Closing her eyes, she nestled closer to him, listening to the breath moving in his lungs and the muffled beat of his heart. Tonight she would stay with him. Tomorrow she would face whatever the morning might bring. Even if it meant following him to Los Angeles.
Chapter Nine
Morning shadows played across the room. Tessa opened one eye and found Denver staring at her. His eyes were as blue as a clear mountain stream, his hair rumpled and black, the lines in his face less severe than they had been. He’d kicked himself free of the sheet, and he lay completely naked across the bed. Sunlight streaked his skin, gilding the firm ripple of his muscles.
“About time you woke up.”
“Mmm.” She stretched. “What time is it?”
“Early.”
“And you’re awake?” she teased, glancing at the clock.
“I wasn’t. But this ravishing blonde kept kicking me and trying to push me out of bed.”
She grinned impishly. “Maybe you didn’t satisfy her.”
White teeth flashed against his dark jaw. “Maybe I didn’t,” he growled, rolling over so quickly, she didn’t have time to escape. “Maybe I should try again.”
She giggled as his mouth descended on hers. “Denver, stop,” she cried, gasping for air and laughing all at once.
“No way. You threw down the gauntlet, and I’m accepting the challenge.”
Wiggling, she tried to squirm away from him, but the task proved impossible. Just when she slid one of her legs out from under him, he captured her again, pinning her against the sheets and grinning wickedly.
“Let me up!”
“Give?” he taunted.
“No—never,” she gasped.
“Glad you haven’t changed, Tess.” With her wrists bound over her head by his hands, and her legs immobile under his weight, he touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, rimming her mouth leisurely.
“You’re—”
“What?”
“Incorrigible!” she said, for lack of another word. Her mind was spinning and her blood had already turned molten. His tongue flicked in and out of her mouth quickly, darting and parrying, touching but not lingering. “We—we’ve got to get up,” she whispered, but already her traitorous body was arching closer to his, her hips thrusting upward, demanding more of this delicious torment.
“Why?”
“Dad—and Mitchell. They’ll be here any minute—”
“So you give, right?”
“No!”
His eyes darkened seductively. “Good.”
She could see the cords highlighting his shoulder muscles, the washboard of his flat abdomen, the soft hair clinging to his legs. He touched first his tongue and then his lips to the tip of one breast and she groaned low in her throat.
Tessa writhed beneath him, but her struggle was not to break free, but to close the gap that separated their bodies. He rubbed against her, molding his hips to hers, letting her feel how much he wanted her.
Her throat was hot and swollen, desire a living thing, stalking through her blood, hungry and wild. Only this one man could satisfy her. She realized with sudden, time stopping clarity that she loved him more than she had all those years ago.
His lips found hers again and she knew that he’d lost all self-control. His hands slid down her arms, caressing her skin. The game of wills was over.
She sucked in her breath as he thrust into her. The lava within her roiled, spreading through her limbs, moving faster and faster, hot and liquid at her very center. Her soul seemed to burst in a glorious explosion of passion that rocked the earth.
“Don’t leave me,” she cried, arching upward to be closer to him, her fingers digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders.
“Right here, love,” he vowed, his hands on her hips as he spilled himself in her. “Tessa, oh, God, Tessa.” His arms surrounded her. His breath was ragged against her skin, his lips still moving as he murmured her name over and over.
If only nothing would ever change, she thought dreamily. If only Denver and I could stay here, entwined, bound as man and woman forever. If only we could shut out the rest of the world.
Slowly, as the minutes ticked by, Tessa shed her cloak of afterglow and the passion-dusted dreams of a woman desperately in love. “I have to get up,” she said reluctantly.
Denver’s arms tightened around her, but she slid quickly from his grasp.
“Why?” He glanced up at her from the bed, and she almost changed her mind. The rumpled sheets, the scent of lovemaking lingering in the air and the misty light of dawn stealing into the room were hard to push aside.
“One of us has to keep up appearances,” she decided.
“We’re adults—”
“I know.” She was already braiding her hair. “And I’m not ashamed. But let’s not announce the fact that we spent the night together—at least not yet.”
“You’d rather hide like a teenager caught in the backseat?”
“I’d rather keep my private life private.” She snapped the braid into place and pulled on a clean denim skirt and cotton sweater. “I’ll deal with Dad and Mitch when I’m ready.” Besides, she thought to herself, what would she tell them—that she’d fallen into bed with Denver McLean? That she was in the middle of an affair—a one-night stand—what? How could she explain that despite all the accusations and lies, regardless of the fact that he’d left her without a word, she loved him so desperately that she would rather hav
e one night alone with him than salvage her pride?
“I wouldn’t mind breakfast in bed,” he said, watching as she tugged on her boots.
“In your dreams.” But she laughed.
“Eggs Benedict, fresh grapefruit, sectioned of course—”
“Of course,” she mocked.
“Toast with honey, coffee and—”
“And this!” Snatching a pillow that had fallen to the floor, she hurled it across the room and smack into Denver’s chest. Before he could exact any retribution, she slipped into the hall. “Fresh grapefruit!” she repeated, laughing as she clambered down the stairs. “You wish!” She knew her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling outrageously as she entered the kitchen, but she didn’t care. Though she half expected her father to be seated at the table with the newspaper spread in front of him, she squared her shoulders.
Luckily no one had arrived yet. She managed to put on the coffee, snap some toast into the toaster and melt butter in the frying pan by the time Denver sauntered down the stairs.
“I guess I should’ve waited,” he said, standing behind her and slipping his arms around her waist.
“For what?”
“To be served, of course.”
She cracked an egg in the pan and grinned. “And you would’ve waited till hell freezes over.”
Chuckling, he drew her close, his hands familiar and warm as they spread across her denim-draped abdomen. “I suppose I would have.”
“Right!” Dear God, she sounded as breathless as a sultry summer night. “Unless you have something better to do, you can pour the coffee and butter the toast.”
“I do have something better to do.” He kissed her throat and ear. “Something much more important.”
Her chest constricted. “I think it’ll wait.”
“Slave driver,” he grumbled, but unwillingly released her to search in the cupboard for coffee cups.
“Second shelf,” she said, catching his glance. In that one heart-stopping moment, she read the love deep in his eyes.
“Thanks.”
Swallowing a thick lump forming in her throat, she turned back to the bacon sizzling noisily in the skillet.
They were just finishing the meal when Milly walked in, her arms laden with two sacks of groceries. “You found somethin’ to eat, did ya?” she asked, glancing at the table.
“Plenty,” Denver replied.
Tessa helped Milly unload the sacks. “By the way,” Milly said, stacking two loaves of bread in the bread box, “that attorney called yesterday afternoon.”
Denver’s head snapped up. “Ross Anderson?”
Milly nodded. “He said that he was sure they’d found your brother.”
Tessa’s heart nearly stopped. “Colton?”
“Where?” Denver asked.
Milly shrugged. “Said you knew about it.”
Dumbfounded, Tessa stared at Denver. Why hadn’t he mentioned that Colton had been located?
“I knew some private investigator thought he might have found Colton in Northern Ireland. But since I hadn’t heard anything in days, I figured he was wrong.”
“Doesn’t seem that way,” Milly said, glancing from Tessa to Denver and back again. “He said he’d call back tomorrow. He’s in court today.”
“Great,” Denver grumbled, his countenance changing. “Did he say if Colton was returning?”
“Nope. That was it.”
The phone jangled, and Milly answered it, then handed the receiver to Tessa. “Nate Edwards.”
Tessa’s nerves tightened. “Good morning,” she said, forcing a smile into her voice.
“Same to you. I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided I want the stallion and those two mares—the black and the chestnut.”
“Both?” she repeated.
“If you’re willing to sell.”
She swallowed back the urge to tell him no, that she wanted to keep all three. “I am,” she said, though a pain slashed deep into her heart.
“Good. Now, I know the mares are both with foal, and I’ll buy ’em as such and keep the offspring, but if you’d rather, you can have the foals after they’re weaned. I’ll sell ’em back to you at a fair price.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll give you fifty thousand for the whole lot. I figure the stallion’s worth twenty-five and the mares in their condition are between twelve and thirteen apiece.”
She couldn’t argue. She’d already decided that she wouldn’t take less than forty; the extra ten thousand was a godsend.
“I’ll give you a couple days to think on it.”
“What was that all about?” Denver asked as Tessa slowly replaced the receiver.
“Nate Edwards has offered to buy Brigadier and the mares. It’s enough money for the down payment on this place.”
“And the rest?”
“The bank will loan the difference, I think,” she said, sitting carefully in the nearest chair. Now that her dream was so close, almost in hand, she was scared.
“And Colton’s been found.” Denver didn’t smile as he stared at her. “It looks, Ms. Kramer, as if you’re on your way to owning a ranch.” The words were said without malice, but there was an empty note in his voice. Denver finished his coffee, placed his dishes in the sink and turned toward the door. “I think I’ll get cleaned up and drive into Helena. Maybe I can catch Ross when he gets out of court.”
“I don’t suppose you’d want company?” Tessa asked boldly.
His eyebrows shot up. “Don’t you have things to do around here?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Mitch and Dad can handle everything. We may as well give them a trial run, don’t you think?” she added, ignoring the quizzical look on Milly’s face.
He grinned and drawled, “That might not be a bad idea. I’ll be ready to go in about twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“And I’ll tell your brother and father they’re in charge,” Milly said.
While Denver showered and changed, Tessa walked outside. The morning air was brisk, the grass still covered with dew. From his paddock, Brigadier whistled softly, tossing his head. Sunlight gilded his red coat as he hoisted his tail high in the air and raced around the fence with long, sweeping strides.
“You know this is killing me, don’t you?” Tessa asked, delving in her pocket for a bit of apple. As the big stallion nipped the morsel from her palm, she wrestled with her conscience. Caught in a vicious circle, she found no answers. If she didn’t sell her best horses, she wouldn’t have money to buy the ranch, and if she couldn’t buy the ranch, someone else would. Then she and her animals would have to find a new place—a place they could afford, a place that might not be big enough to support her growing herd. Besides, Nate Edwards was a good horseman and he’d treat her horses well.
But the crux of the problem was Denver. As it always had been. If she bought the ranch from him, he’d surely leave. If she didn’t buy the McLean place, he might stay longer, but only for a while. Then he’d be forced to return to L.A. For good. Without her. She had agreed to a weekend trip to California, but not a lifetime in L.A., which, she reminded herself, he hadn’t asked her to share.
Her brows drew together in vexation. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” she murmured, eyeing Brigadier fondly. There was just no perfect answer.
“Ready?” Denver called as he crossed the yard.
Tessa whirled and her breath caught in her throat. Clean-shaven, his hair neatly combed, he was dressed in a gray business suit—no longer the man she loved, but a stranger—an engineer who owned a firm of his own in Los Angeles.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she quipped. She walked to Denver’s rental car just as her father and Mitchell drove in.
Mitchell was out of the cab before the truck had rolled to a complete stop. “Going somewhere?” he asked.
“Into Helena. It looks as if Colton’s finally surfaced,” Tessa explained.
“Has he?”
Mitchell’s lips tightened. “I suppose he’s coming back here, too?”
“We don’t know yet,” Denver cut in.
Tessa caught the anger in her brother’s eyes, and she understood it. It had been Colton McLean’s horrid words that had turned Denver away from her. Colton hadn’t held his tongue after the fire. In his outrage and fury, his false accusations had cut deep, wounding everyone in her family.
She didn’t blame Mitch for hating him. But soon it would be over, and soon the McLeans would be out of this part of Montana. At that particular thought, her stomach churned. After these past few weeks, she wondered if she would find any joy in life without Denver. “We’ll work things out,” she said to Mitch.
Shoving his hat on his head, he muttered, “I wonder.”
Denver’s lips drew tight. “Let’s go.”
Tessa slid into the passenger side of the car, turning a stiff shoulder to the anger smoldering in her brother’s gaze.
“When Colton gets back here, the fireworks are really going to start,” she predicted, slanting a glance at Denver as he drove down the long lane and turned onto the main road.
Denver’s answer was a grimace.
By midmorning the rolling hills had given way to the city of Helena. Denver drove toward the heart of the city and past the copper-domed capitol building before parking near the courthouse.
“You’re going to wait for Ross here?” she asked, eyeing the building.
“Maybe. But first we’ll check with his secretary; find out when he’s supposed to be out of court. Then we’ll have lunch.”
He linked his fingers through hers and started across the street. A few minutes later they were standing in front of a huge oak desk in the reception area of a steel-and-glass building. The names of O’Brien, Simmons and Taft were mounted on the wall in chrome letters, and a petite woman with shining copper hair and a wide, friendly smile had waved them into the high-backed chairs in the waiting room; “Mr. Anderson’s in court, but his secretary is in.”