by Lisa Jackson
“About time.” Shoving open the door, she shined her flashlight on his dented Jeep. “Now, if you’re done accusing my family and searching this place from stem to stern, I think I’ll go into the house. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s not over yet.”
“Oh, yes it is!” she said succinctly. “At least for me.” Her eyes blazed. “The next time you go around accusing innocent people of crimes they didn’t commit, you’d better get your facts straight.”
“You’re a good one to start talking about the truth, Cass.”
The words cut deep, stinging like the bite of a whip. “As I said, Colton, I never lied to you. You just weren’t man enough to trust me!”
“Trust you?”
“Yes. You didn’t even have the guts to let me explain!”
“Explain what? That you were trying to trap me into marriage by imagining a baby that didn’t exist?”
“No!”
“Don’t, Cassie,” he whispered, his voice low, his eyes dark.
“Get the hell off my land, McLean!” she ordered. Spinning on her heel, she took off for the house.
Colton watched her sprint across the yard. Her black hair streamed behind her; her hips moved gracefully as she hurried up the back steps and slammed the door in her wake.
Seething, his jaw clenched so hard it ached, Colton strode to his pickup and climbed inside. What was it about her? She was a liar—a woman who at seventeen had tried to trick him into marriage—and yet there was something captivating about her tantalizing smile and wide hazel eyes.
He jammed the old truck into gear and stomped on the throttle. He’d known women before and since his brief affair with Cassie, but none had been able to get under his skin the way she had.
“Never again,” he told himself as the old Jeep whined and he shifted into second. “Never again.”
Chapter Three
“You’re an idiot!” Cassie muttered, kicking off her boots as she heard Colton McLean’s Jeep drive away. Angry with herself as well as the whole lot of McLeans, she marched through the kitchen and upstairs.
She had, over the years, convinced herself that she was long over Colton. But tonight, after seeing him again, she wasn’t quite so sure. The hate she’d sworn to harbor was tangled up with an emotion she’d rather not examine too closely. Their love affair, long dead, seemed closer than it had in years.
“What love affair?” she taunted her reflection as she yanked a brush through her wet hair. Love had never been a part of that summer.
A familiar ache, an old feeling she’d buried along with her foolish notions of love for Colton, wrenched her heart. Sinking unsteadily onto the edge of the mattress, she clenched her fists around the edge of her quilt. Her memory tortured her with vibrant images of a young man unjaded by the years. It seemed that it was just last night when she’d been seventeen and hopelessly in love....
* * *
It was a summer to remember, a beautiful hazy time when anything was possible. Cassie sprinted playfully along the edge of the lake. The lapping water tickled her toes, and sandy soil squished under her bare feet. The summer sun had already settled behind the western hills. Vibrant slashes of magenta and orange streaked the wide Montana sky.
“Bet you can’t catch me,” she called, glancing over her shoulder.
“Why would I want to?” Colton asked. His back propped against the scarred trunk of a pine tree, he plucked a twig from a low-hanging branch. He lifted one side of his mouth lazily as she waded ankle-deep.
“Figure that one out for yourself,” she teased.
He tossed the twig into the water, then shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his cutoff jeans, as if he didn’t care what she did. But she noticed the gleam in his eyes, the involuntary flexing of his thigh muscles, the tension in his stance. Though he attempted to appear nonchalant and uninterested, Cassie knew he was only fighting her—and fighting a losing battle.
Bending forward and running her fingers through the cool water, she grinned. She’d loved him for so long, and now he was finally returning those feelings. For the past six weeks they’d been seeing each other, on the sly, of course. Her father would kill her if he thought she was dating a McLean.
Today her heart soared as high as the hawk circling distantly overhead.
Feeling Colton’s gaze searing her backside, she turned. He had moved from his spot near the tree and was sauntering closer to the lake.
“Maybe we should go,” he suggested restlessly. His voice had grown husky, his eyes dark.
Cassie’s heart somersaulted. “We just got here.” She moved deeper; the cool water lapped against the hem of her shorts.
“Isn’t your father expecting you?”
“He’s in town. Won’t be back for hours.” Tossing her hair over one shoulder, she wiped her hands on her shorts.
“Ivan wouldn’t like it if he knew you were here with me.”
“Ivan doesn’t have to know.”
He arched one of his dark brows insolently. “Don’t use me to rebel against your father.”
“I’m not!” she vowed, her throat swollen as she gazed at him. Colton was everything she’d ever dreamed of—and more. Against a backdrop of pine and cottonwood, he stood at the water’s edge, his tanned chest bare, corded muscles visible beneath a swirling mat of black hair. His jaw was lean and sharp, less boyish than it had been the summer before, and his eyes glinted like newly forged steel.
Colton moved closer, rippling the water’s surface. Cassie’s heart hammered so loudly she could barely hear the gentle thrum of insects or the lapping of the lake.
“I don’t like sneaking around.”
“Neither do I.”
“Think about it, Cass. We both know your father would skin us alive if he found out we’d been meeting behind his back.”
“I have thought about it.”
“Have you?” he asked distractedly. His eyes slid from hers to the halter top that covered her breasts in pink gingham. The fabric was stretched taut, and she could feel a slow trickle of sweat on her skin, the tangle of damp curls against her neck.
He swallowed hard. “What do you think my dad would say?”
Cassie’s carefree mood faded.
“And then there’s Uncle John. He’d kill me.”
She cringed at the mention of Colton’s uncle. She didn’t want to think about John McLean, nor of the affair he’d had with her mother. That time, so long ago, still caused a horrid aching in her heart—an aching she didn’t want to experience. Not today. She’d heard the rumors—knew that her mother had abandoned her long before because of John McLean. “Because I’m Vanessa’s daughter?” she asked, thrusting out her chin.
“Because you’re Ivan’s.”
Bravely, for she’d never dared mention the feud to him before, she said, “What happened between your uncle and my mother is in the past.” A love affair that had soured. A love affair that had cost Cassie her mother and her father his pride.
“Tell that to your dad.”
“I have.”
His head jerked up, and his gaze, bright and seductive, drilled into hers. “And what did ‘Ivan the Terrible’ have to say?”
“Nothing.” She hated it when Colton referred to her father as if he were a monster; and yet she understood why. Ivan had never gotten over his wife’s betrayal, and he’d blamed John and anyone else cursed with the surname of McLean for ruining his life. That curse included Colton.
“You’re lying. Ivan’s made no bones about the fact that he blamed John and everyone related to him. Vanessa never came back, did she? She just left your dad to take care of himself and you. You really can’t blame the man for being bitter!”
Cassie’s throat constricted as painful memories clouded the otherwise perfect day. “I—I don’t want to talk about Mom.”
“Do you ever hear from her?”
“Of course,” she lied, avoiding Colton’s eyes.
“Sure.”
“Besid
es, it doesn’t matter. You and me—that’s what’s between us. What we have doesn’t have anything to do with Dad or Mom.”
“Cassie,” he whispered. He was so close she noticed the shadows of suspicion clouding his gaze. He touched her shoulder and lifted the tiny strap that was knotted behind her neck. “It does matter.”
She swallowed hard. “Dad lives in the past, Colton. There’s nothing we can do or say to change that. We can’t worry about it.”
His lips curved sardonically. “And when he finds out?”
“He won’t,” she said mutinously, thrusting out her chin. “I’m seventeen and I’ve already graduated from high school! I can make my own decisions.”
He sucked in a swift breath and let his hand fall to his side.
She wanted to kick herself for bringing up her age. For some reason, he thought her a child, though he was only four years older than she.
“Come on,” he said hoarsely, “I’ll take you home.”
“But we’ve got all night.” Never before had she been so forward, but she’d never been with Colton before—not alone.
He swore violently, his gaze sweeping the swell of her breasts peeking from beneath her halter, to her flat, tanned abdomen and the curve of her hips. “We do not have all night.”
He wrapped strong fingers around her wrist as he started back for the shore, dragging her through the water quickly.
“You just think I’m a kid,” she pouted as she tried to negotiate the slippery bottom.
“You are.”
“Colton, I love you!”
“Oh, Cass, no!” He stopped then, and she ran into him, her legs giving way. She started to fall, but he caught her and lost his balance. They plunged into the ice-cold depths. Water swirled over them both, and she sputtered as he hauled her to her feet. “Love?” he repeated, his chest heaving. Drops of water clung to the dark hair from his chest to the waistband of his wet cutoffs. “What do you know about love?”
“I know that I can’t think straight when I’m around you, and when I’m not, I can’t wait to see you again!”
“You’ve been in love with half the boys around—”
“I have not!”
“What about Dave Lassiter?”
“We had one date—and he’s just my best friend’s brother,” she said, thinking Dave was just a boy. Colton, on the other hand, was so mature. Then she smiled to herself. Obviously Colton had been keeping track.
“And Mike Jones?”
“He asked me to the prom.” She forced her eyes to his. “I’ve had dates, Colton, sure. I’ve even thought I liked a couple of the boys. But it’s not the same as I feel about you.”
“Oh, Cass, no. Don’t—” His gaze appeared tortured.
“Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because it can’t happen. You’re too young and I—I have plans for my life. I can’t be stuck in this Podunk town, feeding livestock and talking about property taxes. . . .” He clamped his mouth shut, and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of love in his eyes. “Oh, hell, what’s the point?” he growled, swearing roundly.
Cassie flushed, feeling incredibly young and naive. But the hand over her wrist never let go, and Colton’s gaze lingered before dropping.
Glancing down, she saw the wet fabric of her halter top hid very little. Her raised nipples pressed intimately against the sheer scrap of gingham.
“Oh, Cassie, what are you trying to do to me?” he groaned.
“Nothing—I—”
He jerked her forward quickly, capturing her lips with his. Her breath was lost somewhere in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, could only feel the dampness of his muscled chest, his hair tickling her skin, and his lips, hard and sensual, moving anxiously against hers.
The driving beat of his heart was matched only by her own.
She leaned against him, and he stepped back, his eyes narrowing to hide the desire smoldering in his gaze. “Nothing, my eye. You know exactly what you’re doing to me. I should never have agreed to meet you here!”
“But you did.”
“It was a crazy idea.”
“Why?” Hope swelled again. “Colton, believe me, I know how I feel!” she whispered, throwing all of her pride to the wind. “Ever since last summer I’ve dreamed about you, waited for you.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying! Before the summer’s over you’ll change your mind.”
A hard, tight ball filled her throat. “You don’t love me,” she accused.
He took her face between his hands. “We barely know each other.” His hands dropped. “Besides, you’re just a—”
“Kid,” she finished, mortified. “That’s what you think, right?”
“You’re more than a child,” he said slowly, his gaze moving meaningfully to her breasts. “But you just don’t know what you’re getting into. You’re playing with fire, Cass.”
“I love you—”
“Stop it,” he commanded roughly. “You don’t know the first thing—”
Wrenching her hand away from his, she fought the urge to break down and cry. She’d bared her soul to him, and he’d as much as laughed in her face. To save what little pride she could still claim, she started running out of the lake and across the sandy strip of shoreline to the woods. Intent on walking barefoot all the way back to her father’s house, she struck out through the trees.
“Cassie, wait!”
“Leave me alone!”
But Colton caught her at the forest’s edge and circled her waist with his strong arms. He tugged her kicking and clawing against him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home!”
“Like this? Barefoot?”
“Yes!”
“But it’s almost dark.”
“I don’t really care. Let go of me, Colton. I think I’ve suffered enough embarrassment for one night, don’t you?” she accused, trying to deny the weakness in her knees, the constriction of her lungs. She struggled to get away from his musky male scent and the coiled power of his arms.
“I’ll take you home.” His voice sounded rough.
“I’ll walk!”
“No way.” His eyes seared hers, and the protest on her lips died a quick death.
Wrapped in the strength of his arms, feeling the heat of his body, the raw sensuality of his wet skin rubbing against hers, she couldn’t find her voice or the self-righteous anger that had flared so quickly only seconds before.
She knew that he intended to kiss her. As he lowered his head, she tilted hers up eagerly. His lips covered hers and stole the small whisper of breath in her lungs. Moving slowly, expertly, his mouth molded against hers. His tongue gently prodded, sliding easily between her teeth, exploring and plundering.
All thoughts of leaving him fled into the shadows of the towering pines. Cassie slid her arms around his neck, and she leaned against his muscular chest. Her body responded easily to Colton’s kiss; her skin tingled when he splayed his hands against her bare back, shifting slowly, sensually, fanning the forbidden flames of desire that heretofore she’d only dreamed of.
“Stop me,” he whispered hoarsely.
But she couldn’t. She felt one of his hands slide around to caress the burgeoning fabric of her halter. She gasped when his palm covered her breast, and the wet gingham slid erotically against her nipple. “Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Colton, please, don’t stop.”
He groaned a deep primal moan of surrender that turned her blood to fire. Heat swirled deep inside her as he untied the thin straps and bared one soft breast to the night. He gulped as he gazed at her. “You’re too young to look this way,” he protested, but let one thumb graze her nipple, watching in fascination as the stiff peak responded.
“Just love me,” she murmured.
“I can’t—”
“Please. Colton, oh, please—”
Groaning, he lowered his head. His lips moved gently along the column of her throat, and one hand became tangled in her hair as he
dragged them both to their knees. “This is dangerous,” he rasped.
“No—”
“And so are you.”
Instinctively she let her head loll back and arched her neck as he kissed her slowly, sliding downward until his mouth was poised over her breast.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning her nipple before he took all of that rosy button into his mouth and suckled hungrily.
She wound her fingers in the thick strands of his hair, and the warm ache within her, a new and frightening passion, stretched and yawned deep·within. She didn’t protest when his weight forced her back against the sand, where her halter fell completely away.
She kissed his head and smooth shoulders as he laved her breast, teasing and tormenting with each supple stroke of his tongue. Cassie shuddered, unable to think beyond the delight of his body molding to hers.
His muscles were rigid and hard. Sweat beaded his brow. He lowered the waistband of her shorts. Her abdomen flattened expectantly.
“This is a mistake,” he whispered.
“No, Colton, it’s right. So right. I love you.”
He squeezed his eyes tight for a minute, as if he was trying to get a grip on himself. For a heart-stopping second, Cassie thought he would tear himself away. But he didn’t. And when his lips found hers again, they were hot and hard and hungry. All his self-control fled. His fingers worked feverishly on the snap and zipper of her shorts.
He stripped them from her so quickly she gasped. His hands ran anxiously along her thighs, smoothing her skin, parting her legs easily, stroking her panties until she began to writhe anxiously, her blood thundering wantonly, throbbing with desire.
“I want you, Cassie,” he murmured against her hair. “Damn me to hell, but I want you.”
Somewhere in her passion-drugged mind she knew she should stop him, that lust didn’t mean love. But she didn’t care. In time he’d learn to love her just as she loved him.
“Touch me,” he breathed, guiding her hand.
Hesitantly she reached for the top button of his cutoffs. Her fingers flitted against his abdomen, and he drew in a swift breath, his own fingers delving, searching.