Heat Wave (Riders Up) (9 page)

“But at least you
were noticed.”

“Yeah, but not
particularly for the right reasons. Any way, boys your own age will start
paying attention real soon, I expect. I’ll probably have to use a broom to keep
them at bay. You’ll be lucky if Ed doesn’t use a shotgun.”

Carolyn nodded,
half smiling. “He sure does seem to think he has to protect us all.”

“Must be some kind
of macho instinct.”

Chuckling, Carolyn
wiped tears away. “Mom, are you involved with him? Romantically, I mean.”

“I know what you
mean. I don’t think it’s something a mother ought to be discussing with her
daughter.”

“He’s kind of old
fashioned in some ways, but God, he
is
handsome.”

“You can leave God
out of this. But you don’t think I should be involved with him?” Maggie probed
cautiously.

“It’s not that. It’s
just, he seems so, so manly.”

“Manly! You mean
you don’t think I’m woman enough for him?”

“Mom, you’re my
mother,” Carolyn gasped. “But you do look cute when you get angry with him.”

“Well, this concludes
our mother daughter conversation, young lady. You must have something else you
need to do.”

“Okay, I’ll let you
off the hook,” Carolyn said, standing to leave. “In case you’re still curious,
I think you’re woman enough for any man.”

Maggie’s mouth stayed
open long after the door to her daughter’s room closed.

She stood and
walked to a bookshelf. After absently perusing her library of contemporary
novels, she glanced at the clock. It was not too late, only a little after eight.
Through the office window, she saw a light in the loft apartment.

They had to talk
about the events of the day. Ed could not be so interfering in her family’s
life. She might need him in a lot of ways, but the family disciplinarian was
not one of them.

- o -

The damn woman
would drive him crazy, but she wouldn’t drive him to drink, Ed assured himself,
raking his fingers through his hair. He’d been sitting in his cushioned chair
for over an hour stewing, rehashing over and over how he had gotten himself
into such a mess.

It had been over
two weeks since
the kiss
and he could still taste the crushed mulberries
of her lips. Why did they always seem to pucker in such an inviting fashion?

And what was with
Carolyn? How had her mother let her out of the house without a bra on? Good
God, didn’t they know what boys and men could do? The sight of taut nipples
brought out the natural predator instinct in the male, young or old. If she
were his daughter, he’d have the young flirt fitted with a chastity belt. But
she wasn’t his daughter. Maybe he’d overreacted some…but not by much.

Damn, he needed
this job. They’d been able to pick up some good horses to work with. Clint had
told him he hadn’t given up on clearing his name. Maybe he could yet get back
to the track. He missed it so; it was almost like breathing. He’d do most
anything to get back to the Chicago circuit. It was heady stuff working with
horses worth more than he’d ever make.

And there was the
lifestyle of the track. That was where rarefied air truly existed. Greeting the
sunrise, breathing in the heavy early morning mist, dreaming of the next big
horse—that was what shedrow was about. The only scent rivaling that of shedrow
was the lavender of Maggie Anderson.

Ed shook his head
trying to clear it of her scent and taste. Hearing the light rap on his door,
he groaned. There wasn’t much doubt who that was, and she was likely madder
than a wet hen.

He opened the door.

Looking somewhat
hesitant and sheepish, Maggie asked, “May I come in?”

“Might as well,” Ed
said curtly, “you’re here.” Had the little woman come to read him the riot act,
or to apologize for her careless behavior earlier in the day? The latter was
unlikely. He wasn’t duped by her apparent meekness. Might as well start packing
his bags. It’d been a nice dream, but like so many dreams this one had turned
into a nightmare. He slumped back down into the winged chair without offering
her a seat.

Maggie remained
standing. “You look pretty haggard. Are you okay?”

“You don’t have to
worry about me climbing back into the bottle, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“I’m worried about
you. I’m worried about all of us.” She folded her hands together, as if to
steady herself against the tension whirling between them. “We have to talk, you
know.”

Ed sighed. At least
she wasn’t going to fire him on the spot. Damn woman. Damn kids. Damn himself
for getting involved with them. Why couldn’t they listen when he told them to
be careful around the horses? Any one of them could be seriously maimed or
worse. “I know,” he finally replied. “Guess I overdid it some today. Sorry
about that. How’s Carolyn?”

“She’ll survive. We
all will,” Maggie said forcefully.

He shook himself. He
was close to falling over the edge. What the hell was wrong with him? Those
blue ovals staring narrowly at him looked so innocent and so filled with worry.
Had he ever had anyone this troubled over him? It made his skin crawl and his
heart crack open.

“Do you know why
she did it? Why she wasn’t wearing a bra?” Maggie inquired, bending over to
straighten some magazines on a small round table next to Ed’s chair.

Ed shook his head,
trying not to notice the casual bobbing of the woman’s breasts.

“She wanted you to
notice her.”

“What the…”

“Not so much
sexually. She seems to think you ignore her.”

“She’s sort of
difficult to ignore. Pretty, like her mother. I’d have her on a tight leash if
she were my daughter.” He regretted his remark as soon as it escaped his lips.

“You don’t think I’m
a good mother?” The calm voice belied the anger reflected in her twitching
cheek.

“It’s not that at
all,” he corrected quickly. “You’re a fantastic mom. But I’d make a damn poor
dad. Men are predators when it comes to women.”

“You don’t think we
women can defend ourselves?” Maggie asked, crossing her arms under her breasts.

“You might, but
Carolyn…”

“Most of us females
learn about the mating dance when we’re young. Many of us choose not to follow
all the steps until we’re older. In fact, I would suggest that women are often
in more control of that dance than men.”

“Oh.” Ed fumbled
with his fingers, not liking at all the direction of their conversation.

“Besides,” Maggie
chastised in a sultry tone, “women can be predators too. Don’t you agree?”

“Don’t know.” He
shrank inside his skin as the blonde pixie leaned over and brushed her lips
lightly against his.

“Don’t,” he
protested, and then her tongue touched his. There was that intoxicating
mulberry taste again. He floated in its familiarity as Maggie settled on his
lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was as light as a feather. He knew
she had to feel his erection pressing against her bottom. He felt her shift her
position to gain more leverage. Then, she aggressively invaded his mouth.

“Don’t talk. Don’t
run from me,” Maggie muttered against his lips, catching her breath.

He couldn’t run if
he tried. Ed clutched her tight, not wanting to ever let her go. She felt like
a life preserver being thrown to a drowning man. Again her lips bruised his;
breasts crushed against his chest. He stroked her neck leisurely, then her
back, and then her buttocks. She moaned encouragement.

Maggie reached for
his hand and guided it up the length of her bare inner thigh. Her skirt already
lay bunched at her waist. His fingers froze when she placed them on her
straining mound. Not breaking the kiss, she pulled aside her bikini panties and
pressed his fingers against her sensitive skin. The throbbing in his ears was
deafening. Her tongue probing his mouth and her swaying hips pled for him to
enter her.

Mesmerized by her
tongue, Ed committed to memory the satin texture of her skin hidden from view. Her
curly hair was moist from wanting. Her fingers pressed against his until they
were inside. He probed tentatively. She was wet and hot to the touch; she
pushed upward, taking him further in.

His fingers began
their own exploration. Her muffled pleasure reverberated against the insides of
his mouth.

She opened for him
and he plied her with two fingers, searching deep and then nearly withdrawing. Her
breath shortened. He worked in and out, slowly, then faster.

She hunched up on
her knees, giving him even more space. And then she began riding his fingers as
if it were the most natural thing to do. Her gasps were audible as his thumb
glided over her clit. Her grip tightened. She was closing in on a massive
climax. Her tongue slipped from his mouth. Her body shook and she buried her
head against his shoulder, as if trying not to disintegrate.

Ed kissed her hair,
helping her find herself. Too soon, his head started to clear from the erotic
fog that had overtaken him. He grimaced. Maggie had given him a great gift that
he could neither claim nor keep.

He sensed Maggie
gradually drawing back into her body. Her hands fumbled at his belt. She had
the buckle undone and was reaching for him.

“You’ve got to get
out of here,” Ed hissed, shoving her hand away. “Now!”

Her eyes rounded. Her
face filled with shock and disbelief. “But don’t you…”

“Now, Maggie,” Ed mumbled,
roughly pulling down her skirt and unceremoniously standing her on her feet. “We’ve
got to get on top of this, woman.”

Without a word, Maggie
straightened her clothing. Moving toward the door, she turned and smiled like a
wanton temptress. “I certainly expect to do that, Mr. Harrington. Sooner or
later. I like being on top.”

As she shut the
door quietly, Ed leaned against it emptying his lungs of air. She had clearly
laid down the sexual gauntlet. The woman would drive him crazy. Damn, she
smelled delicious. Her sticky heat still warmed his fingers. But she needed a
decent man. A man who would make a decent husband and decent father.

Her scent hovered,
teasing, enticing his hormones. She would be devastatingly delicious.

- o -

On the other side
of the door, Maggie caught her own breath and gingerly made her way down the
stairs on wobbly legs. She hadn’t planned on seducing Ed, not tonight, but she
was a firm believer in spontaneity. Again, he’d left her only partially
satisfied, wanting, needing more. Next time she wouldn’t be denied. And what
about that parting shot? Being on top. She smiled broadly.

Two days later,
Maggie paused from doing her morning chores to watch a white Con-Ex Farms van
pull down the driveway. “Here comes trouble,” she grumbled. Her stomach knotted
even before the tall, dark-haired man stepped away from the van. Determined to
show no fear, she left the sanctuary of the barn and headed toward her
uninvited guest.

She recognized him—she’d
seen his picture often enough. It appeared in the local newspaper whenever
there was a store opening, a county fair, or a church bazaar. He looked too
confident, too tall, and definitely too handsome. Hiding behind polarized
sunglasses, Mr. Taylor Fallon in his dark suit seemed very out of place
standing in front of a barn. He was vice-president in charge of acquisitions. At
least they weren’t sending a water boy.

Taking off her
gloves, Maggie extended her hand in the mandatory greeting. “What can I do for
you, Mr. Fallon?” she asked, squaring her shoulders.

“Have we met, Ms.
Anderson? I’d never forget such a pretty face.”

“No,” she said,
ignoring his comment. “Your picture has been in the paper a time or two, that’s
all.”

“Thank goodness,
thought I might be slipping.”

Not liking his
subtle sexual innuendo, Maggie said, “Let’s get to the point, Mr. Fallon. I’m
not interested in anything you might be offering.”

“Testy little
thing. Josh Prater warned me about you. Guess you’ve earned your reputation for
being a ball crusher.” Fallon folded his arms, then continued, “I’m only
interested in your farm, Ms. Anderson.”

“It’s not for sale.”

Scowling, the man
tugged at his tie. “You haven’t heard my offer yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. Farm’s
not for sale. Not to you or anyone else.”

“There must be a
price we can agree on.”

“This farm doesn’t
have a price tag,” Maggie snarled through compressed lips.

The Con-Ex Farms
man cast her a knowing smile. “Everything has a price tag, Ms. Anderson. Sometime
it takes longer to discover what it is, but I can assure you, everything has a
price.”

“Prater said about
the same thing, but you’re both mistaken. This land has no price tag,
Mr.Fallon.” She spoke distinctly, in case the man was hard of hearing.