Best Kept Secrets (49 page)

Yeah, I think the press will be tramping down the bushes around the Westerner to get to you."

"I'd be okay if I locked myself in my room."

"I'm not taking any chances. As I've told you before, I don't want one of Harper's pets to get herself killed in my county. You've generated enough negative publicity for us these last few weeks; we sure as hell can't stand any more.

Does your head hurt?''

She had rested her head in her hand and was subconsciously massaging her temples. "Yes, a little."

"Take some medicine."

"I don't have it with me."

"I'll see if I can round up something for your pain."

He circled the back of her chair and scooted it away from the table. As she stood up, she said, "You keep a stash of drugs, too? That's against the law, you know."

"Is that all you ever think about--the law? Whether something is right or wrong? Is the line between them so clearly defined for you?"

"Isn't it for you?"

"If it had been, I'd have gone hungry lots of times. I stole food to feed myself and my old man. Was that wrong?"

"I don't know, Reede," she said wearily.

Her head hurt from-trying to keep up with their argument.

She trailed him down the hallway, not really realizing where he was headed until he switched on the light in his bedroom.

Her face must have registered alarm because he grinned sardonically and said, "Don't worry. I'm not trying to seduce you. I'll sleep on the sofa in the living room."

"I really shouldn't stay here, Reede."

"We could both be grown up about this ... if you were a grown-up to start with."

Not in the least amused, she lashed out at him. "There are a million reasons why I shouldn't spend the night here. Number one on the list is that I should be questioning Angus right now."

"Give him one more night of grace. What could it hurt?"

"Pat Chastain will probably expect to hear from me."

"I told him you were near collapse and that you would contact him in the morning."

"You planned ahead, I see."

"I wasn't taking any chances. When allowed to roam free, you're dangerous."

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment.

Too proud to capitulate, but too exhausted not to, she compromised. "Just answer one question."

"Shoot."

"May I use your shower?"

Fifteen minutes later, she turned off the taps and reached for a towel hanging on the bar. He had loaned her a pair of pajamas to put on. They looked brand new.

When she had commented on it, he said, "Junior brought them to me in the hospital when I had my appendix taken out several years ago. I only wore them so I could get out of that ass-baring gown. Can't stand the things."

Smiling at the distasteful face he'd made when he'd said that, she slid her arms into the blue silk top and buttoned up the front. Just then he tapped on the bathroom door. "I found some pain pills."

Well covered to midthigh, she opened the door. He handed her the prescription bottle. "This is strong stuff," she remarked, reading the label. "You must have been in severe pain. The appendectomy?"

He shook his head. "Root canal. Feeling better?"

"The shower helped. My head's not hurting so bad anymore."

"You washed your hair."

' 'Against doctor's orders. I wasn't supposed to for a week, but I couldn't stand it any longer."

"Better let me take a look at your stitches."

She tipped her head forward and he gently parted her hair.

His fingers were light and deft. The most pressure she felt was his breath against her scalp.

"Everything looks all right."

"I washed around it."

Reede stepped away, but continued to look at her. She looked back. They stayed that way for a very long, silent time. Eventually, in a low, rough voice, Reede said, "Better take your pill."

She turned toward the sink and filled his toothbrush glass with tap water. She shook a tablet from the plastic bottle, tossed it back, and took a long drink. As she was bringing her head forward, she caught his eyes in the mirror. She replaced the snap-on lid of the pill bottle and turned, drying her mouth on the back of her hand.

Inexplicably, and totally unexpectedly, tears formed in her eyes. "I know you don't regard me too highly, Reede, but you must know how terrible I feel about what Judge Wallace did.'' Her lower lip began to tremble; her voice became husky with emotion. "It was awful, horrible."

She stepped toward him, put her arms around his waist, and laid her cheek against his chest. "Be kind for once and just hold me. Please."

He groaned her name and curled his arm around her waist.

His other hand cradled the back of her head to hold her face against his chest. He massaged her scalp soothingly and pressed soft kisses on her brow. At the first touch of his lips, she tilted her head up. She kept her eyes closed, but she could feel the heat of his gaze on her face.

His lips brushed hers, and when hers separated, he murmured another low groan and kissed her deeply. His hands sifted through her wet hair, then caressed her neck.

"Touch me again, Reede," she pleaded.

He unbuttoned the pajama top, then slid his hands inside it, encircling her body and drawing it up high against him.

His shirt lightly rubbed against her nipples. She felt the cold bite of his belt buckle on her bare belly and the bulge of his fly nudging her mound as it nestled in the soft hair between her thighs.

Each sensation was more electrifying than the last. She wanted to savor each one individually, but the combination of them was too immense and overwhelming for her to concentrate.

Every blood vessel in her body expanded with passion.

She was inundated with him.

Suddenly, he moved away from her. She looked up at him, bewildered, wide-eyed, and already feeling the loss.

"Reede?"

"I have to know."

"What?"

"Have you been to bed with Junior?"

"I don't have to answer that."

"Yes, you do," he said resolutely. "If you want this to go one step further, you do. Have you been to bed with Junior?"

Desire won out over pride. She shook her head and gave him a soft, whispery answer. "No."

After several ponderous seconds, he said, "Okay, then, this time we're going to do it right."

Taking her hand, he led her into the living room, which surprised her because the bed had been turned down while she was in the shower. In the living room, the only light was from the fire burning in the fireplace. He had already made up the couch for himself, but he whipped the bedding off now and spread it out on the floor in front of the hearth. She knelt on the pallet while he calmly began to undress.

His boots, socks, shirt, and belt were cast aside with dispatch.

Alex, acting on impulse, moved aside his hands when they went to undo his fly. Slowly, her fingers pushed the stubborn metal buttons through the holes. When all were undone, she opened the wedge wider, leaned forward and kissed him.

Groaning, Reede gently cupped her head between his hands. Her mouth opened warmly and wetly over his belly, just below his navel. "That's my favorite thing," he rasped.

Sliding her hands into the back of his jeans, she eased them over his buttocks, while her lips continued to whisk airy, breathy kisses over his lower body. Finally, her tongue glanced the tip of his penis.

"Stop, Alex. Stop," he moaned. "That's killing me, baby."

Quickly, he stepped out of the jeans and kicked them aside.

Naked, he was tall and rangy and rugged, the appendectomy scar only one of many.

His body hair caught the glow of the fire. It showed up as a golden fuzz over his tanned skin, except around his sex, where it was dark and dense. Lean muscles rippled with each movement.

' 'Get out of that goddamn pajama top before I tear it off.''

Sitting back on her heels, Alex eased the pajama jacket off her shoulders and let it go. The sensuous fabric pooled around her. Reede dropped to his knees in front of her. His eyes drank in every inch of her.

Alex thought he seemed hesitant to touch her, but finally, he lifted his hand to her hair and rubbed the damp auburn strands between his fingertips. He watched his hand's slow progress down her neck and chest to her breast. His thumb made light, deft passes across the nipple until it hardened.

Catching her breath, she sighed, "I thought you weren't trying to seduce me."

"I lied."

They lay down together. He pulled the covers up over them, took her in his arms, drew her close, and kissed her with more tenderness than passion.

"You're very small," he whispered against her lips. "Did I hurt you the other night?"

"No." He angled his head back and looked at her suspiciously.

She ducked her head timidly. "Only a little."

His hand curved around her throat; he stroked it with his thumb. "How was I supposed to know you were a virgin?"

"You weren't."

"How come you were, Alex?"

She tilted her head to one side and gazed up at him. "Are the reasons why so important, Reede?"

"Only because you let me."

"Letting you never entered my mind. It just happened."

"Any regrets?"

She laid her hand along his cheek and drew his head down.

They kissed long and avariciously. His hand had found its way to her breast again by the time he ended the kiss. Pushing back the covers, he watched his fingers caress her nipple.

"Reede," she said, her voice tentative, "I'm embarrassed."

"I want to look. Just tell me if you get cold."

"I'm not cold."

She was making small, yearning sounds even before he lowered his head and closed his lips around her nipple. He sucked on it with masterful skill. His hand moved down to appreciate the curve of her waist, then smoothed over the shape of her hip and thigh. He touched her navel playfully, and lightly scrubbed the area beneath it with his knuckles.

He touched the delta of springy hair, and his eyes turned dark.

"I want you to come this time," he murmured.

"I want to."

He slid his hand between her thighs. She raised her hips slightly to accommodate him. She was already wet. He slipped his fingers inside her.

"Reede," she gasped with pleasure.

"Shh. Just enjoy."

His thumb idly fanned back and forth across that vulnerable gem of flesh while he planted kiss after fervent kiss on her fertile mouth.

"I think it's about to happen," she panted between kisses.

"Not yet. Talk to me. I never get to talk in bed."

"Talk?" She couldn't even think. "About what?"

"Anything. I just want to hear your voice."

"I ... I don't . . ."

"Talk, Alex."

"I like watching you cook," she blurted.

"What?" He chuckled against her lips.

"It was very manly, the way you banged and rattled the pans. You're messy. You didn't crack the eggs, you smashed them. Your ineptitude was endearing."

"You're crazy."

"You're making me crazy."

"Am I?"

He inched his head down and stroked her belly with his tongue. His thumb continued to finesse her slowly, provocatively, maddeningly, while his fingers slid in and out. Sensations began to bubble warmly within her lower body. The pressure centered on the idle movement of his thumb, so that when he replaced it with the tip of his tongue, she cried out.

She clutched handfuls of his hair and tilted her hips upward toward the heat of his avid mouth, toward the swirling magic of his tongue.

Not until the aftershocks had subsided did she open her eyes. His face was bent low over hers. Damp strands of hair clung to her cheeks and neck. He lifted them away and laid them on the pillow.

"What does a woman say at a time like this, Reede?"

"Nothing," he replied gruffly. "Your face said it all. I've never watched a woman's face before."

Alex was deeply touched by his admission, but tried to make light of it. "Good. Then you won't know if I did it right or not."

He glanced down at her flushed breasts, at the moisture that had caused her pubic hair to glisten. "You did it right."

Lovingly, she combed her fingers through his hair. "It could have happened before it did, you know--like, that evening at the airfield. And the time in Austin when you took me home. I begged you to stay with me that night. Why didn't you?"

"Because you wanted me there for the wrong reasons. I wanted a woman, not a little lost girl looking for her daddy."

He studied her doubtful expression. "You don't seem convinced."

Unable to meet his incisive eyes, she looked at a point beyond his shoulder. "Are you positive that's the reason? Or were you looking for somebody else?"

"You don't mean somebody, you mean Celina." Alex turned her head aside. Reede gripped her jaw and forced her to look at him. "Listen to me, Alex. You made me mad as hell by saying what you did the other night, that crap about taking from you what I'd always wanted from Celina. I want you to understand something. We're the only two people here now. There's nobody between us. No ghosts, either. You got that?"

"I think--"

"No." He shook his head so emphatically that strands of dark blond hair fell over his green eyes. "Don't just think

--know. You're the only woman in my head right now.

You're the only woman mat's been in my head since I met you. You're the only woman I'm dying to fuck every minute I'm awake and that I dream about fucking when I'm asleep.

"I'm too old for you. It's stupid and probably wrong for me to want you. It's complicated as hell. But, right or wrong, no matter whose daughter you are, I want you." He imbedded himself firmly inside her. "Understand?" He pushed higher, harder, hotter, and groaned, "Understand?"

He made himself understood.

Junior woke up before sunrise, a rarity for him. He'd had a bad night. Following Reede's suggestion, he'd spent several hours with Stacey. Her physician had given her a sedative, but it hadn't worked well enough. Each time Junior thought she was asleep and left his chair at her bedside, she would wake up, clutch his hand, and beg him not to leave her. He hadn't gotten home until well after midnight. Then he'd slept fitfully, worrying about Alex.