In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  He began on the other side, lavishing equal attention there, too, as she begged, “Please, Gabe,” and clutched at his shoulders, fisting her little hands in his hair.

  Still, he refused to hurry. He lingered, nipping and kissing, so close to the feminine heart of her, but always, just barely, not there.

  “Please, Gabe. You’re making me crazy, you know that?”

  He did know. And he was glad. Every moment with her was better than the last and he refused to miss an inch of her. She needed kissing all over and he was the man for that job.

  He scattered a curving, twisting line of kisses down her to knees and over each shin. He kissed her pretty ankles and even the tips of her turquoise-painted toes. She begged all the harder, complaining that he was pushing her over the edge.

  “I’ll never come back,” she cried. “I’ll just end up trembling in a corner chanting your name.”

  He chuckled over that. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s going to be all right. Just be patient a little longer.”

  “Patient! You can’t purposely drive a girl out of her mind and ask her to be patient while you’re doing it.”

  By then, he was kissing his way back up the inside of her left leg, lingering on the tender inside of her knee. She moaned and cried out, encouraging him to keep moving upward. He did, slowly. So slowly...

  When he reached the core of her, he lifted those slim legs of hers over his shoulders and settled in to enjoy the wet, musky taste of her.

  She cried out sharply, grabbing his head between her clutching hands. And when she shattered, he stayed with her, using his fingers as well as his mouth, kissing her endlessly as her body crested, shuddered and then went limp and lazy.

  A low, throaty laugh escaped her, followed by the sweetest little whimper of mingled satisfaction and disbelief. “How did you do that? That was... Oh, Gabe... I don’t have the words. Get up here where I can kiss you properly.” She was pulling at his shoulders.

  He gave her what she wanted, easing her thighs back to the mattress, sliding up to take her in his arms again.

  She grabbed his face between her hands and laid one on him, a long kiss, one that promised more pleasure to come. Then she rolled on top of him and rested her head in the cradle of his shoulder. “I think I’m going to need a minute or two to catch my breath.”

  He smoothed a shiny, wheat-colored curl away from her cheek. “Take as long as you need. We’ve got all night.”

  She sighed. “Homer will be pissed.”

  “He’ll live.”

  She snuggled in a little closer. “At least I left him plenty of food, a full bowl of fresh water and a clean litter box. He should be fine.”

  He stroked an idle hand down the silky slope of her back and then traced her spine, set on memorizing her body, on learning every inch of the curvy, delicious perfection of her.

  She sighed, kissed his shoulder and rubbed a soft hand up and down his arm. “You know,” she said in a soft, happy tone, “I’ve never had casual sex before.”

  Casual—wait. What?

  She went on blithely. “I can’t wait to have more of it. I can really see now how this rebound thing can help push a person down the road to realizing she’s truly over her cheating ex.” She lifted up, stacked her hands on his chest and braced her chin on them. Those gemstone eyes gleamed. “So, thank you.” She granted him her sweetest smile.

  Gabe kept his game face on. He might be falling for her hard and fast and pretty damn deep, but he’d set himself up for where she was taking this. After all, an hour before, he’d been the one to suggest that the best way to get past what her douchebag ex had done to her was to spend a hot night with a man who would treat her right—namely, him.

  How could he get on her for taking him at his word?

  True, for him, this thing between them wasn’t casual in the least. And her cheerful, offhand words hit him where it hurt.

  But he needed to look on the bright side. He had her in his bed now. And no matter how lightheartedly she spoke of having herself some hot rebound sex, he knew she wasn’t a woman who shared her body casually. This night was special. Someday she would admit that to him.

  He could wait. Take his time with her. Give her plenty of space to come around to the real meaning of this night on her own. He cupped his hand around the back of her head and urged her up so their lips could meet. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in her kiss.

  When he looked at her again, her eyes had gone hazy in the best kind of way. “Oh, Gabe...” And then she blinked and said hesitantly, “I forgot to ask...”

  He knew the drill. “I’ve got a clean bill of health and condoms in the bedside drawer.”

  She gave a shy little laugh. “Me, too—on the clean bill of health. And I’m on the Pill.”

  “Then we’re golden.” He tugged her closer and covered her irresistible mouth with his.

  After that, they didn’t need words. He lavished kisses everywhere his hungry mouth could reach. And she sighed and pulled him closer, kissing him so deeply, her soft hands roaming everywhere.

  When he pulled away long enough to deal with the condom, she stared up at him dreamily, so ready. So sweet. Once he’d rolled on the condom, she pulled him close again. Her hands moved over his skin, stroking him—down his arm, over his chest, as though she couldn’t get enough of touching him.

  He understood her need to have her hands on him. He felt the same about her. That he needed to be closer to her, to have his hands all over her, to lose himself in the scent and feel and taste of her.

  Taking the lead, she pushed him to his back and eased one slim leg over him. She wrapped her pretty hand around him, held him in position and slowly lowered herself down to him.

  They groaned together, eyes locked on each other, as she took him fully into her.

  After that, things got frantic, desperate in the best sort of way. Hard and fast. Wild and out of control. He knew he would lose it, but somehow, he held on.

  The rhythm changed, going deep, rocking long and slow.

  He rolled them, so he was on top—and then rolled again. Face-to-face, on their sides, it went on and on.

  Finally, she broke. He watched her let go. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, the wild spots of deep color on her satiny cheeks, the hot flush rushing up her slender throat, the transported expression on her amazing face. He managed to wait for her to hit the peak before following her over the edge of the Earth.

  * * *

  Around midnight, as Mel was settling in, closing her eyes, drifting toward sleep, Gabe nuzzled her ear.

  “I have a question.” His deep voice set off sparks along her nerve endings, reminding her of the pleasure he’d just brought her—three times.

  Clearly, she’d been missing out. Having sex with Gabe Abernathy was like no sex she’d ever experienced before. If this was rebound sex they were having, well, she never wanted to have any other kind.

  Not only had Todd been a cheater, he’d been a slacker in bed.

  But maybe she had been, too. Having sex with Gabe took sex to a whole other level for her. He not only did glorious things to her very willing body, he made her want to do fabulous, naughty things to him right back.

  And she had. Oh, she definitely had. She could feel her cheeks turning pink just thinking about the things they had done. And she could not wait to do them all again.

  She might be insatiable now. And guess what? She was just fine with that.

  He was up on one elbow, grinning at her. “What are you thinking?”

  She grinned right back. “I’ll never tell. You said you had a question?”

  “I do. What is your opinion of Ben & Jerry’s?”

  She levered up enough to kiss the tip of his nose. “Okay, now you’ve done it. Do you have Ben & Jerry’s?”

  “I might.”

  She p
oked at his rocklike, sculpted shoulder. “Now you’re teasing me. It’s not nice to tease the woman you’ve worn out with fabulous, hot sex, three times. A woman in my condition really needs some Ben & Jerry’s. Any flavor—as long as there’s plenty of chocolate in it.”

  He traced her brows with a lazy finger. “We’ll have to get up and go to the kitchen, have a look in the freezer.”

  “I don’t feel like putting my dress back on.”

  “Who said you had to?”

  * * *

  Five minutes later, they stood at the kitchen island eating Chocolate Fudge Brownie straight from the carton, sharing the spoon, Gabe in an old pair of jeans, Mel in his white dress shirt from earlier tonight.

  Really, she was having the best time. Gabe was not only great in bed, fun to hang around with and generous and thoughtful to a fault, she just really, really liked him.

  As he handed her the spoon again and she scooped up another decadent, delicious bite, she thought of the diary that had once belonged to a young man named Josiah, a young man with the same last name as Gabe. That young man would be in his nineties now, if he still lived. He’d loved someone named Winona, who might or might not be the Winona Mel knew and admired. And what about the baby who hadn’t died, after all? Was Beatrix still alive somewhere, in her seventies now? With no clue that the family she’d grown up in wasn’t the one she’d been born into?

  Mel had so many questions when it came to the diary and the heartbreaking story it contained. She kept telling herself to leave it alone, that it was none of her business, really, a mystery that would never be solved. And then, as soon as she denied the diary’s hold on her, she would start wondering again, longing to find out what really happened to the young lovers and their child.

  It hurt her heart to think of those long-ago lovers, lost to each other, so old now, or gone forever. Or to think of their baby, Beatrix, who could be anywhere now—if she was still alive.

  “All of a sudden, you look so sad.” Gabe stuck the spoon in the carton and set the carton on the counter. He tipped her chin up with a finger. “What is happening in your beautiful head, sweetheart?”

  Sweetheart. She could really get used to him calling her that.

  “Hey, now...” He framed her cheeks with his big hands. One had been holding the ice cream. It was cold against her skin. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s what you said, just sad, that’s all.”

  His lips descended. He tasted so good—of cold chocolate and banked desire. She opened to him and the kiss went on for a while. Slow. Lazy. Tender. Achingly sweet.

  When he lifted his head, he suggested, “Talk to me about it.”

  Did she dare? Before, it had always seemed somehow foolish to even go there with him or his family. If his family was the family who had fled her hometown in the dark of night decades ago, wouldn’t he have mentioned it or at least looked uncomfortable when she’d razzed him about the Rust Creek Falls Abernathys vanishing into the night?

  She had way too many questions and very few answers. And the whole thing with the diary was a sore point with her. Wilder Crawford should have taken the diary back when she tried to give it to him. This was not her quest. She was a reluctant sleuth at best.

  But then, well, tonight happened. Yes, she’d called tonight a rebound. But it didn’t matter what she called it—tonight had changed things between her and this man who was turning out to be a whole lot more than she’d bargained for.

  “I think you do want to talk about it, whatever it is.” His eyes held hers, waiting for her to open up and explain herself.

  “You might be sorry you asked. In fact, you’ll probably be sorry you asked.”

  He gave her that smile, the one that made her want to move in closer and beg for more kisses. “Try me.”

  Standing there in bare feet, wearing only his shirt, she shivered a little and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “You’re cold.” He stroked a slow hand down her hair, smoothing it back over her shoulder. When she shivered again, he pulled her close. “I’ll put the ice cream away and we’ll turn on the fire.”

  They sat on the stone hearth right there in the family room off the kitchen. The fire there was gas. He turned it on with a remote.

  “Better?” he asked.

  The heat quickly soothed her. “Much.” She met his eyes—and started talking. “A week before I moved to Bronco, I went to a wedding in Rust Creek Falls Park...”

  Gabe listened, not once interrupting, as she detailed catching the bouquet, her encounter with Wren Crawford and the “gift” of Josiah Abernathy’s diary that Wren had insisted she take. She repeated the information Wilder Crawford had shared with her, including the letter tucked away in the diary’s binding. She explained her friendship with the old woman who had the same name as the girl to whom the never-mailed letter was addressed. She told him that she had gone as far as to check the archives of the Rust Creek Falls Gazette, where she’d found a picture of a young Winona that proved her elderly friend had been in Rust Creek Falls about the time the events in the diary had taken place.

  She shared all of it, everything she knew about the long-ago love story and its tragic ending.

  And when she was finished, he still didn’t say anything.

  In fact, he seemed...distant now. Far away from her, and much too quiet.

  “Gabe?” She put her hand on his rock-hard bare arm. He didn’t pull away, but it seemed to her that he stiffened. “Gabe. What’s wrong?”

  His eyes focused in on her face. “My great-grandfather...”

  “The one you call Gramps, right?”

  His head dipped in the slightest of nods. “Gramps’s given name is Josiah. Josiah Abernathy.”

  Chapter Six

  With the fire at her back, Mel wasn’t cold anymore.

  That didn’t stop her from shivering, though, to hear that Gabe’s beloved Gramps had the same name as the young man who’d written the diary.

  Gabe was staring at her, his expression distant now, hardened. “Gramps was married to Great-Grandma Cora for seventy years. They had four sons together. They were devoted to each other. There was never any other woman in Gramps’s life. My family has lived in the Bronco area for generations. No one’s ever said a word to me about Gramps and his parents fleeing here from Rust Creek Falls for some shady reason having to do with this Winona Cobbs woman and a disappearing baby.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “No, I’m not.” He glared at her.

  “You sure seem like you’re angry.”

  He drew in a slow breath and then bent forward and braced his forearms on his spread knees. “Look. I’m sorry. I know I’m overreacting. But if Gramps is the same Josiah as in this diary you talk about, that would mean he’s not the man I thought I knew.”

  She dared to touch him again. He let her take his hand. She held it between both of hers. He didn’t try to weave their fingers together and neither did she. “Gabe, if your Gramps is the Josiah I just told you about, it was before he ever met your great-grandmother. It’s not as if he had a secret life or he cheated on his wife or anything. The events of the diary happened over seven decades ago. Josiah was hardly more than a boy—a boy in love with a girl in a very different time than ours. He really did want to do the right thing. His parents were the troublemakers. You have to see that.”

  He pulled his hand from hers and raked at his spiky hair with his fingers. “I just don’t believe that the Josiah in your story is my Gramps. I don’t. It’s a coincidence, that’s all. A weird coincidence.”

  Mel felt terrible. She’d known she should keep her mouth shut about the damn diary. But no. She’d just had to lay it all on him and make him question the character of a man he’d always idolized—not to mention, his family’s history. “You know, maybe it would help if you read the diary and the letter for yourself.”r />
  He turned those hardened eyes on her again. “Look, Mel. The last thing I want is to go digging for dirt on my family in some old diary some guy I’ve never met found in a ranch house more than three hundred miles from here.”

  She hard-swallowed at his cold tone. “I, um, understand.” He turned and stared straight ahead. Anywhere but at her, apparently. She should get the message, she knew that. But she couldn’t stop herself from making one more pass at the Josiah question. “You know, a conversation with your great-grandfather just might clear everything up. I would love to meet him.”

  He still refused to look at her. “You don’t get it. The thing with Gramps is complicated.”

  “How so?”

  Gabe shook his head. “He lives in a senior care facility. He’s a fragile old man, far gone in dementia. He’s withdrawn. Uncommunicative. Most times when I go to visit him, he doesn’t speak. I can’t tell if he even really knows I’m there.”

  “But maybe if we—”

  “Mel. I’m just not comfortable taking you to see him, okay?”

  “Um. Yeah. I get it. And I’m sorry. I should have just...let it be.”

  “It’s not your fault. I encouraged you to tell me what was on your mind.” His words were more than reasonable. But he still wasn’t looking at her.

  She really, really wished she’d driven her own car tonight. “I’m kind of thinking I’ve worn out my welcome here.”

  “No. Of course you haven’t.” He did look at her then, but not exactly with warmth.

  “Do you think you could maybe drive me home?”

  He stared at her. She dared to imagine he might urge her to stay. But then he only said, “All right. Let’s get dressed.”

  * * *

  The ride into Bronco Heights was anything but chatty. To Mel, the summer night, thick with stars, seemed empty and endless beyond the windshield.