Haze of Heat (10 page)

And the gentleman in question had bailed. Nice.

Rachel cleared her throat, her body still tingling with aftershocks of pleasure, making her voice a touch uneven. “I was just enjoying the stars. They’re so bright here.”

Connie was still looking around, as if she didn’t quite believe Rachel, and because of it, Rachel made sure she didn’t glance out toward the exterior end of the pool, where Porter was no doubt making his escape. In that instant, the whole situation took on a humorous bent and she went to her knees to hide the lower part of her face in the water, and her twitching lips.

“True.” Kay shuffled over and set the fluffy white towel on a chaise lounge. “But my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. I might trip over my own feet if I don’t have the lights on. Sorry.”

Rachel shook her head. “Nope. That’s quite all right. I was, ah—” she strained to hear any sound from outside, but caught nothing, “just finished. Using the pool, I mean.” She swallowed a near spurt of laughter thinking about Porter snatching up his clothes and hot-footing it over the back yard in a pair of soaking-wet boxers, his clothes and boots bundled in his arms.

Oh, God! The cameras!

Gut-splitting laughter threatened and she bit her lip. Hard. “You two are down here late.” She hoped they mistook the merriment in her voice as friendly chatter.

“Kay’s arthritis is acting up and we thought the Jacuzzi might help,” Connie said as she dropped her towel on a chair and disrobed, revealing a solid black one-piece bathing suit with the cutest skirt.

“Just announce it to the world,” Kay muttered, disrobing. Her suit was a one-piece as well, swirling with mad splashes of red, orange, and yellow so vibrant that the woman probably glowed in the dark.

“I hardly think Rachel constitutes the world, Kay,” Connie assured her sister, moving to a raised display by the smaller pool of water and switching on the Jacuzzi. “Besides, unlike some people, she can obviously keep a secret.”

That out-of-the-blue announcement had Rachel’s brows rising high. “I can?”

“Sure.” Connie’s head bobbed as Kay stepped carefully into the hot, bubbling waters. “You’re Ellen Patrick, author of the Reed and Evangeline Sterling series.” Missing Rachel’s gaping shock, Connie slipped in across from Kay. “We recognized you last night.”

“How?” A choked question.

“
Romance Digest
,” Kay told her. “It had a photo of you speaking with another author at the February Romance Writers’ convention in Richmond. I must say it was nice to put a face to an author we enjoy reading.”

Rachel remembered that convention. Since her books were in electronic format, she didn’t have a table or do a meet-and-greet. The purpose behind the trip was to meet her publisher in person and possibly garner some advice from other authors. Her first ever convention had made her almost dizzy with the press of people and cheery atmosphere. It had been a blast and, for an introvert, terrifying at the same time.

Of course she’d do it again.

Kay’s distressing revelation had Rachel re-think her stalker problem. Then she dismissed it. The photo had tagged her as Ellen Patrick, not Rachel Laversse, and there was no way to link the two outside of word of mouth. Any correspondence addressed to Ellen that her publisher received were put into a manila envelope and sent to Rachel’s address in Rachel’s name. Again, no link outside her publisher or editor. Both females.

“And you recognized me from a photo?”

“We weren’t positive until we checked the Web. There were actually several photos of the convention,” Kay pointed out. “Reporters, authors, hotel staff, and, of course, the attendees. Several people even have YouTube videos they took on their phones. The Internet is so informative.”

Rachel’s legs felt like rubber. Fabulous. Simply fabulous. So it wasn’t just one obscure photo? She could only hope the videos didn’t have that many hits. She’d have to call the Asheville police tomorrow and tell them about all this exposure she’d never known existed. It was a long shot that only broadened the base of suspects.

Except
, the logical part of her brain reminded her,
the letters started before the convention.

With a sigh, Rachel rose from the pool and collected her own towel to dry off. She flicked a glance at the glass wall, which, of course, only reflected the interior of the room.

“Thank you for not bringing it up in front of the others.” Rachel’s smile was shaky as she eyed the two women. “I’m just here for some R & R.”

Connie lifted a hand out of the water and smacked her sister’s arm. “Told you not to put that on Facebook.”

Rachel’s heart sank. “Put what on Facebook?”

Kay squirmed. “Just how exciting it was to have a writer staying at the same place Connie and I are staying at. But it’s only a bunch of old ladies who see it,” Kay rushed to add. “And some family.”

Rachel rubbed her temple where a headache was beginning to brew. “You didn’t say what my real name was?”

“No! Of course not.” Kay straightened.

“Because I wouldn’t let her.” Connie shot a fulminating glare at Kay. “Always have to be the first to know and the first to spread gossip. That’s a sin, you know. Pride cometh before the fall.”

So would a swift, shifter-strength swat. But this was an old lady and Rachel couldn’t knock some sense into that dyed head of hers. No matter how much she wanted to.

Either Rachel’s sigh this time was extremely audible or Kay lost the battle of the sibling-stare, because she told Rachel, “I’ll delete the post.”

Rachel nodded. “I’d appreciate it. I’m having some...personal issues. And until it gets straightened out, the less people who know where I am the better.”

Kay’s eyes widened. “Man troubles?’

“Stop it,” Connie snapped. “It’s none of your never-mind, Kay Eugenie Wilson Miles.”

“Sorry.” Kay’s shoulders sunk. “Habit. It’s just that your life must be so much more exciting than mine.”

Rachel couldn’t help it. She laughed, because where had she heard that before?
Me, that’s who
. “I sit in front of a computer and type. Hardly exciting.” She slipped on her sandals, recounting tidbits of Kay’s life which she’d willingly disclosed over the three meals they’d shared so far. “You, on the other hand, have been married, raised kids, and lived in Germany, France, and England when your husband was in the Army. You waited and worried and took care of those kids when he was in Vietnam, and cheered and loved and laughed when he finally came home. Personally, you’ve led a much more interesting life than I have.” Outside of being a shifter, but she couldn’t tell them that.

Kay looked thoughtful, her orange-red curls bobbing as she nodded. “True.” Her face brightened. “Maybe I should write a memoir!”

Connie threw up her hands. “Great. If you’re published, there’ll be no putting up with you.”

“Even if you’re not,” Rachel said, wrapping the towel around her body in preparation to leave, “it would be a wonderful gift to your children.” She’d been bugging her parents to do the same for years to no avail.

“Even better,” Kay exclaimed, looking at Connie with wide eyes. “If you help me, I’ll help you. The kids would get a kick out of knowing what a hippie you were. Why, you’ve even been arrested for indecent exposure.”

Rachel swung back around to goggle at the mostly sedate Connie. “Indecent exposure?”

Connie shook her head, but the smile on her mouth was telling. “Woodstock. 1969.”

Rachel laughed again. “You two have
got
to write your memoirs now. You’re a part of history.”

Chapter Eleven

Whatever feeling was buzzing through Rachel the following morning had to be more than simple sexual attraction. She wasn’t an obsessive person, though she fully admitted to being an imaginative one. But never could she have imagined last night’s hot and totally out-of-character encounter with Porter in the pool.

She’d pushed his buttons until he’d practically mauled her, and she’d loved every scorching second. And making out in a public place where anyone could—and nearly did!—catch them? Another deviation. She wasn’t into exhibition! Even more mortifying was the memory of her practically begging Porter for sex. She’d even dismissed the need for protection just so he’d assuage the physical hunger turning her into a sex-starved lunatic!

At the little table in her suite, she slid off her glasses, dropped her head in her hands, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“What is wrong with me?” Because she was already primed for another go-around with Porter. Hell, if she had a tail, she’d twitch it under his nose to get his attention.

“Like a cat in heat,” she muttered, completely at sea as to why she was too restless, too needy to work.

And like a switch, every muscle went taut. Slowly raising her head, she stared at the laptop screen, open to the last page of her most recent novel. Not that she’d done much in the hour since breakfast.

As the word “heat” sank in, her lips formed the denial before any sound came out. When her voice finally emerged, it was a nullifying chant, paired with apprehension and the rapid tattooing of her fingers on the wood surface. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

The mating heat. A very real possibility. Rachel’s spine hit the back of the chair. Digging fingers through her hair, she dislodged the large clip on her crown and it fell unheeded to the carpeted floor. Silky strands fell over her clenched fists.

Yes.

Shoving abruptly from the table, she began to pace the living area, from the main door to the bedroom door and back again, desperately trying to block out the feline affirmation in her head. Of course she knew about the mating heat, thanks to Bethany, but knowing wasn’t the same as living. Her aunt had married a human she’d fallen in love with, not a shifter. As far as Rachel knew, Bethany never experienced mating heat. None of the females in her family had.

Bypassing the table once again, she scooped up a lone banana and peeled.

So who could she ask for verification? The only person Rachel knew well-versed in the mating heat phenomena was Melinda, and that belief was backed up by her four shifting sons. Yet there was no way Rachel would speak with her hostess about it. She’d dumped enough personal angst on the woman already.

Not to mention, the other individual in this potential catastrophe was Melinda’s son. Talk about ick.

She took a huge bite of the pale fruit and chewed thoughtfully. Gwen and Ria were both married to shifters, but that didn’t mean they were mates. Just like her aunt, they could have gotten together out of love and not chemistry.

Which meant Rachel only had one option. Porter.

Porter.

“That’s it. You’re getting muzzled,” Rachel threatened around a mouthful of banana. “And Porter is not our mate, so forget it.”

At the living room window, Rachel took another bite, flicked open the blinds, and looked out. While she could only see a small section of the barn, the corral was completely visible, as were the horses milling around the open area. Contemplating the unappealing task of asking Porter about the mating heat—a rather ridiculous notion, because if she was more than willing to be physically intimate with him, she should be able to
speak
about intimate things with him—she watched two of the horses playing with a giant ball.

For a moment, the sight brought a smile to her lips. Then they turned down. She began counting. “Six. There are six horses out there. I know about Plato, but who’s that red one? Another student?”

It dawned then. She had a perfect excuse to seek him out. Surely she could come up with a way to fit the subject in. Right?

She gulped down the last of the banana, tossed the peel, and rinsed her hands. Her hair she fastened into a modified French twist, securing it with the clip she picked up off the floor. Plucking the key card from the table, she slipped it in the pocket of her lightweight tan shorts, tugged at the hem of her airy lavender top, and stepped out into the hallway.

Where she literally bumped into Katie, who was walking by. She grabbed the younger woman’s arms before she tumbled back into the opposite wall, both of them exclaiming, “Sorry!”

“I didn’t hear your door open.” Katie’s easy and almost always present smile graced her face. “Everything all right with your room?”

“Yes. Thanks. I, ah, just thought I’d go out for some air.”

Thankfully Katie didn’t bring up the fact that Rachel could get air by the simple and most expedient task of opening the sliding glass door in the bedroom and stepping out onto the balcony.

Instead, the young mother nodded and resumed walking toward the stairs, Rachel at her side. “It’s a beautiful day for a walk. Between the cloud cover and breeze, it’s not hot at all. Just don’t stay out long. Forecast is calling for rain this afternoon.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rachel paused, staring curiously at a small device in Katie’s right ear. It looked like a hearing aid, but Rachel didn’t recall seeing it in Katie’s ear before.

Seeing the shift in Rachel’s visual attention, Katie pointed at it. “It’s a baby monitor.”

“Really?” Fascinated, Rachel’s eyes went wide and drifted back to the tiny device. “It’s so small. I never dreamed they made one you could put in your ear.”

“They don’t.” Katie’s eyes sparkled. “It’s basically some super-duper secret spyware gadget that Rome rigged up for me as a baby monitor. It’s so sensitive I can hearing Maddie breathing better than if I were standing over her crib.”

“Nice.” They moved as one through the dining room. “So she’s taking a nap?”

“Uh-huh. I was just leaving our room when I ran into you.”

Though Rachel hadn’t really thought of it before, Katie’s words had her doing a double-take. “You live in one of the suites?”

Katie nodded, pushing through the swinging doors that opened into the kitchen. A pristine and empty kitchen. “Yeah. Melinda made an offer I couldn’t refuse, though I did at first because I didn’t want to take a room intended for a paying guest. But she convinced me by pitting my weaknesses against me. Maddie would always be close by, I’m surrounded by potential babysitters, and best of all, we live right on top of my grandparents.”

As Katie spoke, they headed toward a back room off the kitchen. Rachel aimed a nosy glance at a set of stairs tucked just outside the room before stepping into what turned out to be a laundry room. A laundry room the size of her entire suite. It boasted three sets of washers and dryers, floor-to-ceiling cabinets and several horizontal metal rods stacked with hangers. A giant folding table lay in the center of the room. On the back wall was an adjoining bathroom.

Rachel let out an impressed whistle.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Katie reached into one of the washers and transferred a load of towels to the adjacent dryer.

“Definitely.” Rachel’s own units were tucked in a closet in her apartment, so this much useful and thought-out space had her agog. Coveting the folding table, she ran her palm over the cool, smooth top admiringly. “Your grandparents live here as well?”

“Yep.” Katie lifted her chin toward the kitchen. “The housekeepers’ quarters on the other side of the kitchen. Like the upstairs suites, except with two bedrooms. They love it.”

Rachel already knew the house was big, but dang. “For so many people living and visiting here, it’s awfully quiet today.”

Katie laughed. “Always relish the quiet times because they don’t last. Grandma and Melinda are doing a final pass through the public areas as more guests will be arriving this afternoon. Bob and Rome are out doing landscape work. Gwen is in the reserve doing whatever rangers do and Andreas is at the crop shop. I’ve got cookies to make and dinner to start. The sister guests are napping, the young couple on their honeymoon are, well, they’re probably napping, too!”

If that was the new code word for sex, Rachel could use a nap herself. Of course that brought front and center her intended task when she’d bumped into Katie. “And I’m off for a walk.” To talk to a man and get some answers.

“See you at dinner.” Katie’s cheerful demeanor infected Rachel all the way to the gated corral. There she came to a halt. Not because she couldn’t figure out how to open the gate, but because four of the six horses were loping toward her.

“I don’t have any carrots,” she warned as they whinnied in what she hoped was welcome. Slowly, she raised a hand and stroked along Daisy’s neck. “You remember me, right?” She cautiously asked the white and black mare. “I’m a nice person, so no biting.”

“They won’t bite unless you do something to scare or piss them off.” Her heart lurched at Porter’s voice, her belly becoming a mass of quivering jelly as he strolled toward her from the open barn door.

Damn if a wave of cutting desire didn’t all but slice her to ribbons with its ravenous heat. Maybe coming down here wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Oh?” The physical hunger was starting to intensify, as if it had only needed the right spark to set her on fire, and Porter was that spark. Pouting nipples perked up at his approach, straining against her bra for attention.

“And never come up behind them unannounced,” Porter advised, touching Frieda on her hindquarters as he made his way to the gate. “Always let them know where you’re at. Talk and touch their rump whenever you’re behind them, otherwise they’ll kick, and that is not a pleasant sensation.”

Rachel tilted her head back and stared up into Porter’s eyes. The hunger burning in them was as nerve-wracking as it was relieving. As least she knew she wasn’t alone in this intense sexual awareness.

She licked her lips, her voice low and breathless. “I’ll remember that.”

His nostrils flared and his gaze dropped to her mouth, visually caressing the plump flesh. “You need me.”

It wasn’t a question and the gruff tone had liquid need churn in a vicious eddy. “What’s going on, Porter?”

Montoya nudged Porter’s shoulder and he gave the animal an absent pat. “You came to me.” When no treats or more attention was forthcoming, all horses except Ares wandered off.

“I was curious about the new horse. The red one.” Not a lie.

Black lashes swept low on his cheeks and when they lifted, the hunger in his eyes was replaced with mirth. “Ah. Zabana.”

“Zabana?”

Porter opened the gate for Rachel. “Suffice it to say Rafe neglected to mention how close Plato and Zabana were. As I’m too softhearted to be the cause of broken hearts, I came home with both.”

Rachel might have melted on the spot if Ares hadn’t chosen that moment to stick his nose in her hair. Before she could flinch, Porter reached out and whipped off her hair clip, allowing the strands to tumble free in a cascade of burnished gold. “Curious horses have a tendency to mouth what interests them.” He twirled a curling lock around his finger and lifted it to his lips, his voice dropping to the consistency of thick molasses. “As do cats.”

Images of where she wanted him to mouth her flooded her vision as well as her panties. As a result, her voice was shaky at best. “They also scratch and bite.”

His lips kicked up in a smile, a lazy one with a hint of sharp teeth that reminded her she was playing with a dangerous predator. “I don’t scratch. Biting, on the other hand.” His slow perusal of her body made her feel as if she’d just been stripped bare. “I won’t deny desiring a nip or four.”

Neither could she. Last night she’d wanted to sink her teeth into his smooth honey skin, feel the play of those enticingly male muscles flowing under his warm flesh on her tongue.

Her hands curled into fists, her short nails digging into her palms so she wouldn’t reach out and touch someone. She looked pointedly at the hairclip in his other hand. “Are you going to give it back or do you plan on keeping it like my earring?”

“Ah. Missing an earring, are you?” He released her hair and stepped back. “Sure it wasn’t nabbed by our resident ghost?” The lack of concern coupled with a flash of silent laughter in his eyes confirmed her suspicion.

“Very sure.”

“And you think I had something to do with it?”

Rachel shot a glance to Ares as he finally moved off to join his equestrian companions at the other end of the corral. “Yes.”

“Then there’s only one thing you can do.” He raised his hands out from his sides. “You must strip-search me. Go ahead. I won’t mind.”

Laughter bubbled out. “Idiot.”

“No. Really.” His grin was like a lightning bolt, full of charm and humor. “I can handle the indignity if it will clear my good name.”

She shook her head. “Right here? In front of everyone?”

“Well.” He lifted his chin at the barn. “I do live only a few feet away. We can have total privacy.” Crowding in once again, he brushed a single finger down her cheek. “For all manner of things.”

That was both what she was afraid of and what she really, really wanted. She needed to know if this crazy attraction between them was due to the mating heat or simple lust. The later she could slake and move on, but the former would stay with her for the rest of her life. She would crave Porter, and only Porter, until the day she died. If the female didn’t feel secure and loved by a mate that craved only her in the same manner, it would be a torturous existence.

The muffled ringing of a cell phone—and not the musical notes of a certain song—split the sudden tension in the air and knocked her out of her self-induced anxiety.

Porter frowned and reached for his phone. “Hold that thought. I’ve been waiting...” He checked the readout. “Finally. Don’t move.”

Not a suggestion but an order, yet Rachel did as directed and waited. Though she did move a few feet away to give him some semblance of privacy. It wasn’t until his terse, “I sent it hours ago,” that she gave up pretending to ignore his conversation and stared at him.