Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic) (35 page)

“Listen to me now. There’s something I need you to
arrange for me,” she said, positioning herself near the foot
of her brother’s bed. She told him she wanted Garrett
beaten, though she did not mention that the idea had origi
nally come from Michael.

“I can hire men to do that,” Richard said, rubbing his face sleepily.
“What’s in it for
me?”

His sister smiled as she rose smoothly from his bed.
“Big brother, you get me into Garrett Randolph’s bed, and
you can let your imagination run wild,” she said as she left his bedroom, fully aware of what he wanted from her, though she had no intention of satisfying his wishes.

* * * *

Garrett awoke as Pamela was easing out of bed. He held onto her. “Don’t go,” he murmured sleepily.

“Go back to sleep,” Pamela whispered, kissing Garrett’s cheek and smoothing his sleep-mussed hair. “I’ll be back in just a little bit.”

“Hurry,” he mumbled. “The bed’s too big without you in it.” Then he buried his face in the pillow he’d shared all night with Pamela.

She looked down at him, letting her sleepy smile widen.
In her little bed he was an even bigger man, thick in the chest, with muscles that displayed their strength even when he was completely at rest. Yes, he dominated her
small cot, and Pamela was amazed that she’d managed to stay
in it with him all night. Amazed until she recalled how they’d held each other all night, arms around each other even in sleep.

Pamela slipped the pretty nightgown over her head, easing
the garment down over her curves, smoothing the fabric
with her palms. Before Garrett, before the Midnight Phantom,
this gift from Jedediah had only reminded her that she
had no one to look attractive for. At last, with Garrett sleep
ing peacefully in her bed and her heart filled with tender
emotions for him, she had a reason to wear the delicate nightgown.

She went to the stove and got a fire going then put water on for coffee. How do Garrett’s mornings usually start? she wondered.

The simple truth of it was that she had no idea at all
how a wealthy lawyer began his day. All she’d learned so
far was how he spent some of his nights.

Sitting down at the table, waiting for the water to boil,
Pamela closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Yes, she could
tell that Garrett was in her house. His presence hung in the
air like the scent of new saddle leather, clean and magnificently masculine.

Was she just being silly? Pamela didn’t care. She’d spent
far too much of her young life being serious about everything. Now nothing really mattered except her happiness,
Garrett’s happiness, and their love for each other.

The thought brought her up short, and her eyes burst
open. Love. Yes, she couldn’t deny it. She was
in love
with
Garrett Randolph. She was certain of it. Whether he loved her or not was another question entirely. He had feelings
for her, strong and tender feelings. Pamela was certain of
that. Hadn’t he held her in his arms all night without trying
to make love with her, which was exactly the kind of interlude she’d needed?

But did he love her?

Pamela couldn’t say. Not with any degree of certainty. Lov
ing someone, and being willing to make love with someone, could mean two entirely different things, especially
for a man.

Stop thinking about love,
Pamela chided herself.

There was nothing she could do about it, one way or
another. Garrett’s emotions and feelings were his own, and
unless he chose to involve her in them, she would continue
to be an outsider to him. Instinctively, she knew that if she tried to force her way into Garrett’s heart, made him put to words exactly what his feelings were, she would drive him away, not draw him closer to her.

The water was boiling, and her attention turned to mak
ing coffee. She was glad that something, no matter how mundane, occupied her thoughts for a few moments.

When she heard Garrett move on the bed, Pamela rushed to
the closed bedroom door. “Don’t you dare get up yet!” she called through it.

The squeak of the bedsprings beneath his weight told
Pamela that he was still in bed. “Wouldn’t dream of moving,”
he murmured.

It wouldn’t be much of a breakfast in bed, but it was the best Pamela could do under the circumstances. She arranged four oatmeal cookies in a semicircle on a dinner plate around the stacked enameled tin cups.

She brought the plate into the bedroom. Garrett was sit
ting up in bed, a pillow between his back and the wall.
The blankets were pulled up to his waist, leaving his beau
tiful chest bare to her appreciative eyes.

“Breakfast in bed,” Garrett noted with a smile that
brought the dimple to his cheek. The four cookies on the
dinner plate were more precious to him than any breakfast
he’d ever had, and he’d been served breakfast in bed for most of his life, often in some fine hotel in the United States, Europe, or Mexico.

“It’s not really much,” Pamela apologized, suddenly pain
fully certain that her simple fare was paltry compared to
what Garrett was accustomed to.

He touched her lips with the tips of his fingers to silence
her words. For a moment their gazes locked
.

“Don’t denigrate what you’ve done. I think it’s won
derful,” he said softly.

Garrett took the plate from her and set it on his lap then
picked up a cookie.

“Wait, let me get the coffee first,” Pamela said, dancing
quickly out of the bedroom on bare feet.

A surge of emotion went through Garrett as he watched
her hurry off. Her body, so lush with feminine curves,
moved fluidly beneath the sheer fabric of her white night
gown. And she was quick on her feet, agile and graceful, which impressed Garrett. When she returned, holding the
coffeepot, he picked up his cup and held it out for her to fill. She bent low to pour, affording Garrett an unhindered
view down the décolletage of her nightgown.

It was ridiculous to get such a thrill from a glimpse of
pale, firm breasts, Garrett told himself. It was especially absurd considering he’d held Pamela all night, her breasts
pressed firmly against his chest the entire time.

It didn’t matter. Logic and reason held little influence with Garrett where Pamela Bragg was concerned.

He waited until she had poured coffee for herself and
set the pot on the floor.

“Delicious,” he murmured, munching happily on a
cookie.

Pamela smiled, pleased that he seemed genuinely happy.
For a second she pondered the fact that she was serving
Garrett even though she’d previously promised herself
never to be in a subservient position to a wealthy man. How could she feel demeaned when his appreciation of
her kindness showed so plainly in the chocolaty depths of
his beautiful eyes?

Pamela sat near the foot of the bed, crossed her legs, and
smoothed her nightgown over them. She could feel Garrett’s gaze
upon her, touching her, caressing her, making her feel warm inside.

“What’s today got in store for us?” she asked.

Leaning back against the wall, sipping his coffee—which he thought the finest he’d ever tasted, though he knew the circumstances and current companionship had
everything to do with the perception—Garrett shrugged. Thinking about anything other than Pamela wasn’t
easy to do, particularly when she was in a sheer white
nightgown that both concealed and revealed, tempting the
imagination.

Pamela looked away, trying to cope with Garrett’s beauty. When she did look back at him, she couldn’t keep her gaze where it should be, someplace innocent—like his face! Instead, her eyes kept going down to the blankets,
as though imagining what lay just beneath. And what her
eyes could not see her mind remembered with such clarity
that a warmth seeped into her veins and moved through her limbs. Even her fingertips now itched to touch Garrett in all the ways and in all the places that she had earlier explored.

Garrett restrained his smile. He had seen the influence he had over a woman’s self-control before—many times, in fact—and he accepted it as a matter of fact, something
in which he should not take too much pride. Just the same,
he did nothing to hide his body, the sight of which he
could tell was affecting Pamela more and more profoundly.

As they made small talk, exchanging banalities, Garrett
watched a pink blush work its way slowly up Pamela’s chest
and shoulders to her neck, cheeks, and ears. He saw, too, the blunt rise of her nipples become visible through the
fabric of her nightgown.

When he finished his coffee, Pamela poured him a second
cup, and this time, the sight of her breasts moving tautly
inside the décolletage hit him with staggering force. Garrett
felt his cock becoming erect, and though he tried to ignore the burgeoning of desire, he could not, nor could he hide
the impact Pamela had upon his senses. Holding her in his arms all night without making love to her had taxed his
self-restraint terribly. His strength of will, his ability
to control his desires, were rapidly deserting him.

“Pamela, I don’t know if you’re aware of what you’re doing
to me,” he said.

He paused to moisten his lips. He could not tell whether
she was the most skilled seductress the world had ever
known or if her seeming innocence affected him
.

She turned her face to him. Her eyes, jade green, were
wet, shiny, holding in them more than a hint of mischief.

“Maybe I do know,” she said, her voice soft, sultry. “Maybe I don’t. You have so much more experience in
this than I do.” She bent over at the waist to set her coffee cup on the wood-plank floor then took Garrett’s cup from him. It was empty, and she nonchalantly flipped it to the
floor, where it clanged in tinny protest. “What I do know
is that you’re not nearly as in control of yourself as you
want me to think.” She touched the tented blanket with a
fingertip. “As witnessed by this.”

“I stand guilty as charged.”

“I fully understand you must return home,” Pamela continued, looking straight
into Garrett’s eyes as she spoke, feeling his cock pulsing through the blankets. “No
doubt spending the night with me has caused quite a scandal among the Randolph clan.”

Garrett brought his right hand to Pamela’s face, running the
pad of his thumb lightly over her lips. He slipped his hand
beneath her heavy, silken hair at the back of her neck,
pulling her just a little closer, his heart hammering in his chest, his passion doubling in intensity with each second.

Pamela pulled the blankets down enough to expose him, and
when she took his engorged flesh into her hand, the
heat of it shocked her. Squeezing, she watched as Garrett’s
eyelids fluttered briefly, passion soaring through him. She
inched closer, her gaze locked with his, her small hand
moving over the length of his erection as her desire escalated.