Ana Leigh (16 page)

“Respect? Respect is earned; you don’t get it by marrying a man for his money.”

Anger throbbed at her temples. “Stephen will get his money’s worth; you can be sure of that. I’ll be as good a wife to him as any other woman he could marry. So don’t let it trouble you, MacKenzie. It’s not your problem.”

“You ever think that maybe I don’t want to see you get hurt?”

Her head shot up in astonishment. “Good! Then leave me alone.”

He didn’t want her hurt? The damage had been done already. Her waking moments were haunted by the reminder of how much she wanted him, and the more her mind tried to deny it, the greater the truth was driven into her heart with every beat.

Her lips quivered, and moonlight glittered on the tears glistening in her eyes. “Can’t you be happy for me, Zach?”

“I wish I could, Rosie,” he said sadly. “I wish I could.”

“Then just leave me alone. That’s all I ask.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave you alone,” he murmured. “I wish I’d never met you, Rosie. I know I’ll never forget you.”

Zach clenched his hands into fists as she sped away. Why did he always end up hurting her? He wanted to chase after her, to hold her in his arms, to kiss away her tears and tell her he was sorry. But if he did that, he’d have to tell her so much more, and he couldn’t do that now—for her safety as well as his own.

Dammit! He was a fool for letting the situation between them get out of control, just because he couldn’t keep his hands off her. She was right: he should have left her alone. But he’d let his dick do his thinking for him—and now his heart. Lord knows his body ached for her, but his senses wanted just as much: the sight of her face, the sound of her laughter, the sweet scent of her.

Watching her tonight with Rayburn had tied his gut in a knot. Even if he did tell her the truth about himself, she’d made it clear she wanted no part of him. He didn’t measure up to her future plans. How in hell had he ever let the mercenary little redhead burrow so deeply under his skin? Next he’d be making excuses for why she was willing to sell herself.

He’d be glad when the time came to saddle up and ride away for good. And there was no reason for him to stick around there any longer tonight; he’d had enough.

Rose paused outside the door to wipe her eyes and get control of herself. Why didn’t Zack go away, ride out of her life? He didn’t have to remind her what she was doing; nobody knew that better than she. She’d had to make compromises her whole lifetime; now she had the chance to put her past behind her once and for all, and she wouldn’t let Zach MacKenzie spoil it.

Her head was throbbing, so she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes for a few quiet moments before rejoining the others.

She’d so wanted this evening to be the joyous beginning of a new life, but instead, it was miserable. She wished it was over and she could go back to the privacy of her room.

The door was flung open and a blaze of light and drone of voices shattered the silence. Rose shrank back and hugged the shadows as Jess Tait lumbered out. He looked inebriated—and he was the last person she wished to encounter, especially in his current state. Despite Stephen’s orders to him, she still distrusted Tait and felt uneasy in his presence.

Tait closed the door, shutting off the noise and light, and much to her relief staggered to the opposite end of the building, where he began speaking in low tones to someone around the corner. His back was to her so she started toward the door, but stopped when she overheard Tait mention Zach’s name. The fact that they were speaking in whispers made it appear sinister.

Curious, she stepped back into the shadows to listen, but only bits of the conversation carried to her ears. “Yeah, yeah . . . hate that MacKenzie bastard . . . sure it’ll look like an accident . . . soon.” Then she heard nothing more as they walked away. A wave of apprehension coursed through her. If she’d heard correctly, they were planning to harm Zach.

Rose hurried to the corner and peeked around in time to see Tait go back inside through the kitchen door. He was alone, and there was no sign of anyone else. She raced down the side of the building, rounded the corner, and saw a ring of men smoking cigars. Seeing Stephen among them, she hurried over to them and forced a smile.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Stephen, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, my dear.” He left the group and came over to her. Upon seeing her pallor, he looked concerned and put his arm around her shoulder. “What is it, darling? Are you ill?”

She clutched his hand, drawing comfort from his support. She had intended to tell him about the conversation she’d overheard, but as her panic subsided, she thought better of it: the person she should inform was Zach.

Picking up on the excuse he’d offered, Rose nodded. “I’m afraid so. I’m sorry to spoil the party, but I have a beastly headache.”

“I understand, my dear. We’ll leave at once.”

Stephen was so kind and understanding. It ripped at her conscience that she didn’t try to tough it out instead of lying to him.

“There’s no need for you to leave your guests, Stephen.”

“Nonsense. I think it’s time for our guests to leave anyway.”

They went back inside, and he thanked everyone for coming. Rose was on tenterhooks as the guests said their good-byes. She had to find Zach and warn him he was in danger!

Finally, Stephen escorted her to the boardinghouse. “I hope you feel better in the morning, my dear.”

“I’m sure I will.” Filled with guilt for deceiving him, she smiled at him. “Thank you, Stephen. You’re a wonderful person. I’m so grateful for everything, and I’m sorry I spoiled the party.”

“Rose dear, this is just good night, not good-bye. There’ll be other parties. We have a whole future together.” He kissed her gently. “Now get some sleep.”

For a long moment, she stood on the porch and watched him proceed down the street. He deserved a woman who would come to him with love, not for her self-serving reasons.

Then she slipped down the stairs and into the darkness to find Zach. He’d never returned to the party, so she figured the best place to find him would be his room. Thank goodness he’d told her how to reach it without being seen.

Hugging the shadows, she worked her way down the street until she reached the rear of the Long Horn. She listened at the back door and when she didn’t hear anything, she turned the doorknob and peeked in. To her relief, the room was empty, but as soon as she closed the door the room was pitched into total darkness. As impatient as she was to reach Zach, she took time to adjust her eyes to the dark, then made her way across the room, occasionally stumbling or bumping into empty beer kegs. By the time she reached the hallway door she was certain her legs were black-and-blue, and the worst was still ahead—she had to cross the hall to the stairway.

Drawing a deep breath, she cracked the door open. Shouts and laughter carried down the hallway from the barroom; Tait’s guffawing was the loudest. Peeking around the door, she saw that the hallway was empty.

It’s now or never, Rose.
She dashed across the hall to the stairs, climbed them rapidly, and sped down the dim hallway to Zach’s door.

When the door opposite suddenly opened, she spun around in startlement. Rita came out of the room and stopped in surprise. Rose was too alarmed to do anything except stare dumbfounded at her.

The blonde arched a brow and smirked nastily. “Comin’ or goin’, honey?”

Was it so dark that Rita didn’t recognize her? That would be too much to hope for.

Rita continued down the hall, paused briefly to glance back at her, then went down the front stairway.

Rose sagged in despair, tempted to get out of there as fast as her legs could carry her. As she reached again for the doorknob, she was struck with a dismal thought.

What if Zach isn’t even here?

Chapter 16

A
fter Rose opened the door she peered into the darkened room, lit only by the moonlight that glittered through the open window, then gasped in shock when she found herself staring at a cocked pistol.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise, Miss Soon-To-Be-Mrs. Rayburn.” Zach uncocked the pistol and slipped it back into the holster. Barefoot and dressed only in jeans that hugged his hips and long muscular legs, he moved toward her, a black panther on the prowl.

The door closed behind her as she backed into it. Zach stopped in front of her and leaned forward, supported by his outstretched arms that boxed her. Instantly she was enveloped in the provocative scent of his male muskiness. He pressed closer, and she felt his hardened arousal against her stomach. The sensation sent an electrifying shock to her loins as her own female drive responded to it.

His breath became a seductive warmth at her ear when he said in a husky murmur, “I hope this visit means what I think it does.”

“I—I came to warn you,” she stuttered, forcing the words past her constricted throat.

She tried to shrink back farther when he leaned forward. “About what?” he said, more mocking than curious.

“I overheard Tait and another man plotting to kill you.”

“Is that right? Who was this other man?”

“I don’t know. They spoke in low tones, and I was too far away to recognize the voice.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Raising his arm, he began picking the pins out of her hair. His mouth curled into a pleased smile when her hair dropped past her shoulders.

Rose’s heart pounded at her ribs so hard she thought they would surely break. The click of the key in the lock sounded as loud to her as the cock of a pistol. “What do you think you’re doing?” she said in weak protest.

He grinned so near she could barely resist the temptation to capture his mouth with her own. She had tasted those lips and knew the devastating pleasure they afforded. “What you knew I’d do when you stepped through the door.”

It was clear he didn’t believe her—or didn’t much care one way or another. His mind was on one thing, and one thing only. “I was a fool to come here. I thought we were friends, and I didn’t want to see you hurt.” To her horror, she began to sob. “Now, I don’t know why I even bothered.”

She turned and fumbled with the key, but his hand closed over hers. Turning her to face him, he drew her into his embrace.

“I’m sorry, honey.” The mockery had left his voice, and his eyes were tender with compassion. “We
are
friends.” His arms tightened around her and he held her in his embrace and let her cry.

She couldn’t understand what caused this sudden emotional breakdown. Was it exhaustion? His accusations? Her feeling of guilt? All she knew was that his arms were warm and reassuring, and she felt an incredible sense of security—a feeling she hadn’t known since her mother had rocked her as a child.

As her tears waned, she became conscious of a different awareness: the male scent of him, the firmness and warmth of the bare chest her cheek rested against, the softness of the curled hair on it that tickled her nose, and the vitality of his muscled body.

She lifted her head and met the tenderest eyes she had ever gazed into. Zach lowered his head and tenderly kissed away each tear sliding down her cheeks. Then he cupped her cheeks between his hands, and his mouth closed over hers.

It had been meant as a gentle, comforting kiss, but from the first touch, passion replaced tenderness. Hot blood pounded at her temples, pelted her pulses, and filled her veins with an exquisite heat. Lord knows he’d kissed her enough times before that she should have been prepared, but she wasn’t. She doubted she would ever be . . . could ever be.

His tongue teased at her lips until she parted them. Then he plundered her mouth, flicking, sweeping, his tongue twining with hers until breathlessness forced them apart.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Zach’s gaze probed hers and found the answer he sought. He slid the bodice of her gown off her shoulders, trapping her arms in its folds.

Rose’s hands ached to touch him, to feel his warm flesh. She wriggled in an attempt to free them, and the movement created a dangerous friction between her stomach and the heated bulge pressing against it. Now her body yearned to feel that friction lower, in the place that tingled for its touch. Instinctively, she parted her legs.

He didn’t miss the move on her part. They communicated wordlessly. She knew they both had thought of this moment too long, the wait too lengthy, the anticipation too intense.

He grasped her camisole and, as if it were paper, ripped it down the middle and freed her breasts. He cupped them in his palms, and her body flooded with sweet rapture when he rubbed his thumbs across the nipples already rigid with arousal. Lifting her under her bound arms, he slid her up the door, pressing her to it with his hips, and his seeking mouth found one of the taut peaks. Then his mouth closed around it and he began to suckle. She gasped, closed her eyes and threw back her head, and reveled in ecstasy at the erotic sensation.

When he lowered her to the floor her legs were trembling, and she slumped against him as he fumbled with his jeans. His pants swiftly dropped to the floor. Shoving up her skirt, he yanked her bloomers past her hips and guided his hard arousal to its eager nesting place between her legs. Now freed from restraint, his swollen penis was a throbbing, tantalizing heat at her core.

Breath was too limited, control too tenuous—she felt her own moistness and knew she was ready for him. She arched her hips to receive him and he drove into her, pumping in and out.

Her eyes, so heavy with passion she could barely raise the lids, saw that his head was thrown back, his neck rigid with taut cords. Perspiration dotted his brow. The tempo of the love dance increased, the intensity escalated, and the coil within her wound ever tighter. It built and built to a blinding eruption that sent waves of rapture through her. He stiffened, groaned as her tremors took him, and then his climax filled her. When his shuddering ceased, she could only slump her head against his sweat-slickened shoulder.

It was all a blur to her when Zach removed her gown and torn camisole, when he released her petticoat and slid her bloomers and stockings off her legs. She had a hazy recollection of him kicking his jeans aside, scooping her up in his arms, and carrying her to the bed. There he entwined his long legs around hers.

“I’ve thought about this from the first moment I walked into that restaurant and saw you looking all prim and proper in that black dress and white apron.”

“I have, too,” she said softly.

“I spent a lot of time imagining what you looked like under those prim and proper clothes.” Her stomach tightened when he palmed one of her breasts. “You’re everything I’d thought you’d be, and more.” He dipped his head and teased the nipple with his tongue, then took it between his teeth and gave it a little tug. She arched against him as his warm, moist mouth closed over the nipple and began to suckle.

“I take it I’ve just been complimented.” She had reached arousal already, and her voice was throaty. “I’ll try not to let such flattery go to my head.”

He raised his head and grinned. “Better we direct it to mine.”

She couldn’t help smiling. There was too much devilment in his eyes to miss his meaning. God help her, but his bawdy innuendo excited her more. Sliding her hand down, she grasped the subject of his joke and gave it a playful tug. “You’re right, MacKenzie. Feels like it needs all the direction it can get.”

That hidden side of her she’d always feared existed had materialized. She’d never been this bold with Wes, but somehow she was shameless where Zach was concerned.

Naturally it was too much of a challenge for him to ignore. Chuckling, he leered down at her. “Oh, lady, before this night’s over, you’re going to eat those words—and a lot more.”

She closed her eyes, her head swirling in an overwhelming tide of passion. She felt free. It was a glorious feeling, and she could no longer keep up the pretense of denial—no longer wanted to. This night had been inevitable from the first time she had looked into his mesmerizing sapphire eyes and saw how much he wanted her. And she knew his eyes must have mirrored her own.

The hours passed too swiftly as they explored one another with hands and mouth, sometimes intensely, other times gently. Often laughing or teasing, moaning or sighing. He’d whisper bawdy promises into her ear. She’d dare him to try, and end up whimpering with ecstasy. He’d challenge that she couldn’t break his control; and he’d end up groaning with lust when she’d prove otherwise.

She felt so much. Excitement, yes. Anticipation, yes. Arousal, beyond control. Every touch, every slide of his lips became a rapturous reminder of how much she had yearned for such a moment, and it was more exciting than anything she had ever imagined secretly and denied fervently.

Still, the haunting realization that it would not go on forever crept into her thoughts. He wanted her for the same reason that Wes had wanted her, to satisfy his own bodily cravings, and she couldn’t help wondering if the moment would be even greater if they’d come together in love—not lust.

So for this one night, she’d pretend that they were
true
lovers. She’d let herself believe that he cherished her, adored her, loved her—as she did him.

And she confessed this love with her own response. Her every movement, every caress, every heated kiss, sigh, or groan of pleasure cried out,
I love you, Zach
. Words she feared—dared not—say aloud or he’d only laugh. And if he laughed, the illusion would shatter—and crush her heart into bits.

She clung to him, molding her soft curves into his hardened flesh, and reveled in being in the arms of the man she loved.

Then, finally exhausted, they slept.

Zach awoke slowly. He felt drugged: his body too sapped to move, his hands too heavy to lift a finger. Morning sunlight streamed through the open window, hitting him squarely in the face. He managed to roll over on his stomach and muffle his groan in the pillow. Fully awake now, the first thing that popped into his head was last night. There was no sign of Rose. Had it actually happened, or had it just been the dream of every man’s greatest fantasy?

He shifted his head to the other pillow to get out of the sun, and the faint aroma of jasmine tantalized his nostrils.

So it hadn’t been a dream.

Zach rolled over to his back and lay thinking about Rose, last night—and the greatest sex he’d ever had.

What a woman! Hadn’t he known she would be? That red hair and that luscious mouth that warned him to stand clear, even as her blue eyes dared him to go ahead and try. Once she dropped that control of hers, the sky was the limit. She became a wild vixen—the most sensual, uninhibited female he’d ever bedded. He could thank his lucky stars that he even survived last night—although he sure as hell was ready and willing to take her on again.

Recalling the way her eyes deepened with passion, remembering her touch, his blood heated again and he grew hard. Why had she run off without waking him? They had a lot to settle. Next time, he’d make sure she wouldn’t run away.

But was she thinking about next time? Was she still planning on going through with her marriage to Rayburn? Maybe that’s why she’d left.

He was a damn fool. He was spinning cobwebs over a woman who openly admitted she intended to marry for money—to sell out for a shot at an easy life. But who was he to criticize? He knew damn well she was engaged when she walked into his room last night. So what did that make him? Maybe he should check the dresser to see if she’d left him two bucks on her way out. It’d be just like her.

Disgusted, he looked down his naked body at his erection.

“Shit, MacKenzie!” he grumbled. “You just need to pee.” He crawled out of bed.