Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) (19 page)

Hunter smoothed her curls back from her forehead and pulled her close again. “Honey, I promise you will feel no pain. None. I swear.”

When she continued to cast wary glances at him, he asked, “Will you allow me to prove to you a man can make sex extremely pleasurable for a woman?”

Her answer was quick and firm. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Trust me that I will never hurt you. Nor will I ever allow anyone else to hurt you.” His lips moved against her forehead as he spoke. “Relax. Let me show you what true lovemaking is. If I do anything that causes you the least little bit of discomfort, tell me and I’ll stop. I promise.”

Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I do want to. Very much. But I’m afraid you will have quite a job. I have horrid memories to erase.”

He was forced to tamp down the anger that threatened to rise again. He needed to be loving and gentle. Making love to Emily would be harder than a first time virgin. Not that he’d had any familiarity with virgins. Always in the back of his mind he’d known when the time came to make love for the first time to the woman he loved, he would take into consideration her inexperience. Never had he expected to have to overcome genuine fear left behind by another man.

He started slowly, kissing her moist lips, easing his hand beneath her nightgown to give her time to get used to his touch on her bare skin. Her initial reluctance faded as her body relaxed under his hand. As he felt her trust increase he kneaded her breasts, plucking the nipples, bringing a sigh from her lips.

“Let’s get this off.” He used both hands to whip the nightgown up and over her head before she could protest. He ran his palm down her body, marveling at the silky skin, slight curves, and milky thighs with a nest of blond curls at their center. “You are so beautiful.” He whispered the words as if paying homage.

A slight flush to her cheeks and her reticence told him she was not comfortable with his eager scrutiny of her body. Wrapping his arm around her waist he brought her tight against him and distracted her with a deep kiss. His hand wandered down her back, massaging her bottom, stroking its plumpness. He thrilled at her response as she kissed him back, the innocence of her building desire causing his member to stiffen and grow.

So many things he wanted to do to her, to show her how exciting and enjoyable lovemaking could be. For now, just getting her to trust him enough to complete the act would be a step forward.

“I don’t like being the only one dressed. Don’t go anywhere, sweetheart.” He rolled over and stood, making quick removal of his clothing, dropping the garments onto the floor. She smiled shyly at him as he climbed back onto the bed, his body obviously ready to join hers.

“Now where were we?”

As his mouth hungrily covered hers, her small hands moved up his chest, tugging at the hairs, smiling against his lips as he groaned. It had been a long time since he’d had sex, and with this woman in his arms, he wasn’t going to last. He’d better give her the pleasure he promised before he lost complete control and slammed into her body like a randy youth with his first whore. Wouldn’t that go a long way to soothe her fears?

Her center was slick and warm against his fingers, increasing his desire to join them together. She gasped as he circled her pearl with his thumb, his finger sliding in and out of her tight entrance. Her breathing picked up and she began to move her hips, her eyes closed, a slight smile revealing her pleasure. The sight almost had him climaxing right then.

“I feel so funny. So . . . I don’t know.” She whispered the words as she pressed against his hand, seeking her fulfillment.

“Let go, honey. Don’t tense, just relax and it will come.” He took her breast into his mouth and sucked hard. She moved her legs restlessly, pushing her center against his hand. Her soft whimpers as she took her pleasure from his touch filled him with satisfaction.

She held his head close to her breast, running her fingers through his hair. “That feels good. I like that,” she whispered. He used his tongue to lick at the tip, circling the pouting nipple, teasing it. Her breathing sped up and she continued to thrash. Within seconds her body stiffened and she cried out his name, pulling his head toward her mouth. He covered her lips with his and continued his attentions to her pleasure, pressing hard on her bud to keep the contractions going. Slowly her body relaxed and her thighs slackened.

Her eyes opened, dewy and half lidded. He groaned her name as he spread her legs wide and moved between them. Braced on his elbows, he cupped her face as he entered her, slowly, inch by inch. “Is this all right, honey? Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head. “No. It feels different, full. But no, it doesn’t hurt.”

Allowing her moisture to ease the way, he slid in to the hilt until their bodies touched.

He’d come home. No other woman had ever possessed his very soul like this. As he moved in and out, clutching her shoulders, whispering words in her ear, he knew this was forever. He needed her like air and food.

And he loved her.

He grinned at her yelp when he flipped their positions. With his hands on her ribcage, he urged her to sit up. “That’s it, baby. Ride me.”

It didn’t take long for her to pick up his rhythm. She looked like a goddess with her pale skin, firm rounded breasts swaying with her movements, and her hair falling over her shoulders. Her hands anchored on his chest, she leaned over to kiss him, her silky locks falling about them like a curtain. He tangled his fingers into the mass of curls just as he shoved upward one final time and climaxed.

Emily collapsed onto his chest, both of them fighting for air as if they’d run a race. After giving them time to calm down, he wrapped his arms around her, and with a quick roll, they both lay facing each other. He traced her lips with his finger. “That was wonderful.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Wonderful.”

“Mrs. Smith! Is everything all right in there? I thought I heard voices and noises.”

Emily sat up and frantically looked around. “Oh goodness, that’s my maid Maria.”

Hunter put his finger to his lips as a signal for her not to speak. He eased away from her and quickly dressed. Grabbing her nightgown, he tossed it to her.

“Mrs. Smith! Are you all right?”

“Yes, Maria. I’m fine. You can return to bed now.”

“Are you sure? I’d like to come in and check.”

Hunter vigorously shook his head. He glanced around the room to see if there was any place he could hide. The only spot was under the bed, which he would do, even if it made a dent in his dignity. They could not be caught together. It would be a disaster.

“No, Maria. I think what you heard was me having a nightmare. But I’m fine now.”

“I’ll go fix you some warm milk. That will help you to sleep.” She mumbled to herself as her footsteps receded from the door.

“I have to get out of here before she returns.” Hunter bent and kissed her. “I hate to go.” He sat on the bed and pulled her to him. The feel of her soft, warm body teased him, making him long to stay right where he was. “I want to be able to spend all night, every night with you.”

She burrowed into his chest. “Me, too.”

While they’d been together the fear he’d buried about the trial stayed hidden. Now it resurfaced with a vengeance. As much as he attempted to deny it, his life was on the line. If found guilty, he would hang.

He studied her face, not knowing when they would next be together. He gave her a slight squeeze and rose to go.

She grabbed his arm. “When will I see you again?”

“Ah, sweetheart, I wish I knew. I will try to get in touch with you. But in any event, Jesse will be able to see you. He tells me he intends to call you as a witness, so he will have a reason that can’t be disputed.”

He cupped her cheek, rubbed his thumb over her soft lips and left with a heavy heart.

Chapter 19

Jesse pounded on Jeremy’s door. He’d been knocking for more than five minutes. The desk clerk assured him Jeremy hadn’t left for the day. The door two rooms down opened, and a man stuck his head out. “Stop that racket. How the hell is a man supposed to get some sleep around here?”

“Sorry,” Jesse said just as Jeremy’s door opened.

“What the fuck?” The Ranger stood there swaying on his feet. “Who the hell are you and why are you pounding on my door?”

“Are you Jeremy Steele?”

“Who the hell wants to know?”

“I do. I’m Jesse Cochran, attorney for Hunter Henderson, who I understand
hired
you to do a job for him.”

“Aw, shit. Yeah.” He ran his hand down his face and opened the door wider. “Sorry. Come on in.”

The place was a disaster. Empty liquor bottles lay on the floor, the rumpled bed littered with papers. Jesse took it all in, as well as the man standing before him, who looked worse than the room. Bloodshot eyes, a couple day’s growth of beard, stains on his shirt and pants. The room reeked of alcohol and tobacco smoke.

But the most damaging item in the room was a hypodermic needle lying on the dresser, next to a sack with
Galveston Pharmacy
stenciled on it.

“What have you been doing to yourself?” Jesse growled.

“Nothing. I just took a couple days off. I’ve been conducting interviews and checking facts. With Henderson in jail, I thought I’d relax for a day before I resumed my investigation.”

Seeing nowhere to sit that wasn’t covered with clothes, papers and garbage, Jesse remained standing, his stomach churning at the stench not only in the room but coming from the man himself. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll meet you at the café down the street on the left.” He strode to the door and flung it open. “Make it fast.”

He stormed down the stairs, anger oozing from every pore. This was the man Hunter had depended on for help in the investigation into Smith’s shady business practices? The Ranger was a drug addict and an alcoholic. He wasn’t even sure he could trust any information Steele came up with.

At least Hunter was out of jail and into his custody. Jesse’s biggest problem would be keeping his nephew busy enough that he didn’t attempt to see Emily, or try any investigation on his own. Obviously no one was going to talk to the accused murderer about the victim.

I have to depend on a drug addict to find and interview potential witnesses? Wonderful.

Jesse had just finished up a sandwich and cup of coffee when Jeremy arrived. He’d cleaned himself up all right, but his eyes were still bloodshot and he seemed confused when he entered the café. After a minute he spotted Jesse waving at him and made his way to the table.

“Sorry about that.”

Unsure exactly what Jeremy was referring to, Jesse just shrugged and pointed to the chair across from him. “You want something to eat?”

“No. Just some coffee.” He looked around until he caught the eye of a waitress and waved her over. “Coffee. Black.”

The man looked as though he could use a good meal, but Jesse wasn’t about to start babysitting their investigator.

Once Jeremy’s coffee arrived and Jesse’s cup refilled, he leaned on his forearms and regarded the man. “I have no idea how fond you are of your drugs, but if you’re going to continue to work for me and Hunter, you need to straighten yourself out.”

Steele didn’t reply, but watched him carefully over the rim of his coffee cup.

“I’d like to see what you have so far on Smith’s business practices. Hunter swears you’re top in your field, and I trust him. I will tell you, however, that I don’t trust you. Or anyone who’s controlled by a drug.”

“I’m in control, not the drug.”

“Yes. I’ve heard that before.” He took a sip of coffee. “In any event I’ll continue with your assistance as long as you’re coming up with results.” Jesse nodded to the file Jeremy had placed on the table. “That your notes?”

Jeremy pulled out the pages of notes, and they discussed them for over an hour. A little more satisfied with the job the Ranger was doing, Jesse left with instructions for Jeremy to dig deeper. With the shenanigans the deceased had been pulling, there had to be others who would have wanted the man dead.

Emily fidgeted in her chair as Louis’s attorney, Mr. DeMarco, polished his spectacles, then settled them on his nose. He fiddled with the papers in front of him, and then adjusting his eyeglasses one more time, smiled up at her and Mr. Sanders.

They’d returned from the funeral hours ago, along with twenty or so friends and business associates. Emily’s nerves had been stretched to the limit as time after time her hand was gripped and condolences offered.

Whiskey and coffee was served, platters of sandwiches, and plates of cakes. Knowing she had the will reading to still go through, she’d thought the crowd would never leave.

Mr. DeMarco’s words pulled her back to the library and the task she now faced. “I am ready to read the Last Will and Testament of the late Mr. Louis Smith.” He paused as if expecting trumpets from on high to echo in the room.

Emily held back a snort. She would expect more like the gnashing of teeth from the bowels of hell.

Mr. Sanders was in a worse state than she was. He continued to mop his forehead with a handkerchief, and looked as if he wanted to clear his stomach of his breakfast. Her fear returned of being penniless once more. Hopefully, there was still a goodly portion of her inheritance left.

The lawyer cleared his throat and began to read.
“I, Louis Smith, being of sound mind and body do hereby . . .”

Fifteen minutes later it was over. Sanders leapt up and pumped the lawyer’s hand, his previous anxiety gone. He smiled broadly at her and left the room.

Louis had left him his half of the business.

Emily was too numb to speak. Everything she owned was gone. Except the clothes on her back. Since the house had been bequeathed to a woman she had never heard of, she wasn’t even sure if the clothing in her closet belonged to her. Certainly not her grandmama’s lovely, delicate pink and blue china tea set. No, that was gone, too. Along with the paintings on the walls that came from her parents. The specially-made furniture in her sitting room. Gone. All of it gone.

“. . . the mansion at 3642 Broadway, Galveston, Texas is hereby bequeathed to Miss Constanza D’Lia of Galveston, Texas with all its contents and furniture.”

She shook her head, realizing Mr. DeMarco was speaking to her. “Mrs. Smith?”

“Yes?”

“I want you to know I strongly advised your late husband not to do this. But he assured me that you had an inheritance from your parents and were quite well set, so you had no need of his money.”

She wanted to scream and cry and rip out her hair. Yes, she had an inheritance, but if any of it was left, it had just gone to this Miss D’Lia, along with everything else.

Oh God. How would she survive?

“Mrs. Smith?”

Lord, the blasted man was still sitting there, gazing at her with eyes full of pity. “I will contact Miss D’Lia and advise her you will need at least ten days to vacate the mansion.” He tugged on his collar. “I hate to say this, but by law an inventory of the contents will be done immediately, and then again when you leave.”

Ten days. An inventory. She squashed down the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble up and escape from her insides. Surely they would then cart her out and lock her up in the loony bin. Perhaps that would be better than out on the street.
Which is where I’ll be once I lose my home.

Out on the street. With nothing. And she most likely would never again hold a job since she’d walked off her shift at the Harvey House, so no reference there.

Should she ask Mr. DeMarco who this woman was? Did she really want to know?

Louis truly did despise me. Why?

She raised her chin and regarded him through weary eyes. “Yes. That is most kind of you, Mr. DeMarco. I would need the full ten days, I am sure. And you may begin the inventory whenever you wish.”

Even the staff was better off than she was. Louis had bequeathed them, along with the mansion, to Miss D’Lia. She huffed. As if people could be bequeathed. As long as they performed their duties, the new owner would most likely keep them on. Perhaps she could borrow a uniform and pass herself off as the parlor maid.

If Louis weren’t already dead, she would shoot him herself.

She had to get rid of this man who sat there looking so sad for her. He must understand from her shock that there was no inheritance leaving her well off. She almost felt sorry for him. That caused another giggle to start. She needed to pull herself together and make plans.

“Thank you, Mr. DeMarco. I will see you out.” She stood on shaky legs and walked him to the door. Nodding briefly at Martin, she turned and walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom.

Where she climbed into bed and lay very still, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling.