Revenge (38 page)

His tongue pressed against her teeth and she opened her mouth to him like a flower to the sun, with no resistance. His hands slid beneath her sweater and pressed warmly against her back.

Thoughts of denial seeped from her mind as he touched her, his fingers drawing lines along her spine, his lips warm and wet as he kissed her lips, her eyes, her throat. A low moan escaped her throat as he unhooked her bra and his fingers found her breasts.

“Damn,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know that I said we should stop, but I can't.” His hands kneaded her breasts and she seemed to melt into him. The same deep, moist warmth that she'd felt before uncoiled inside her. Desire, forbidden and dark, slid through her blood.

He pushed the sweater and bra over her head, then pressed moist kisses to her throat and collarbone. She cradled his head as he touched her, teasing her nipples with his fingers before tasting them with his lips.

Beth sighed as he held her close and suckled and she didn't stop him when he found the waistband of her jeans and quickly removed them from her. Anxious fingers pushed her legs apart to delve into her. She quivered, for it had been so long, but his probing was gentle, at first slowly exploring, then touching that most vital spot in faster and faster strokes until she gasped his name and convulsed before falling atop him.

He kissed her again and gazed into her eyes, silently asking. Without words, begging.

Still drenched in her own sweat, she swallowed against a suddenly dry throat and kissed him. Hard. Without a trace of guilt. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and she pushed the soft flannel over his shoulders and down his arms. The smell of fresh air and grass still clung to him and he tasted of salt as she kissed his neck, his shoulders, and then slid down to press her mouth against his flat nipples.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his fingers tangling in her hair as she teased him and felt him strain upward. “Beth, please...”

Her fingers found the waistband of his shorts and he groaned, whether in agony or pleasure she couldn't tell. “Whatever you want,” she whispered against his skin and licked his abdomen.

He shuddered. “I don't know—I'm not sure that I can...”

Stripping him quickly, she lay beside him, naked body next to naked body. “Just lie there,” she whispered, her fingers reaching forward to touch him and bring him to a release. “I'll do all the work.”

His fingers twined in her hair as he dragged her head closer and his lips found hers. With slow, firm strokes she found a way to ease his pain.

G
ood Lord, what had she done? Nearly made love to Jenner McKee—just like before. As she lay in his arms, listening to his gentle breathing, she wanted to snuggle against him, pretend that everything was right with the world, but she couldn't. She had a son to think about, a life to live. A life that didn't include Jenner.

She reached for her clothes and the strong arm surrounding her tightened. Hand clasped firmly over her breast, Jenner cradled her close.

“I think I'd better go,” she said, rolling over to gaze into slumberous blue eyes.

He managed a crooked smile. “So soon?” He shoved a strand of hair from her eyes. “I can think of other things we could do.”

She blushed at the turn of her thoughts. “Any more things you come up with, cowboy, can only spell trouble.”

“What's wrong with trouble?” He shifted, half-rolling atop her and wincing a little as he moved. His skin was tight over well-defined muscles and his scars from battles with onery rodeo broncs and bulls were barely visible.

“Jenner...”

He dipped his head and, still looking at her, touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple. It hardened immediately, puckering as he gently sawed his teeth against her flesh.

“Please...”

“Please what, love?” he asked, and the endearment tore her apart inside. He didn't love her; never had. In fact, he hadn't even remembered her. Love was just a word he used when he was in bed with a woman. Any woman.

“I have to get back to Cody. You mentioned that there might be danger.” She really didn't believe it, but she couldn't take any chances and she needed an excuse to get away.

At the mention of the boy, his muscles flexed and he lifted his head. “I've been thinking about him.”

Her heart started to gallop. “And...?”

“I want to see more of him.”

Where was this going? She didn't know whether to be elated or worried sick. “Why?”

He snorted.
“If
he is my son—”

“We've been through this before.”

“Then I think he and I should spend more time together. What do they call it? Quality time. Yeah, that's it.”

She glanced around the unfinished room. “You want me to bring him here?”

“Or the Rocking M.” He gazed at her and his smile slid off his face. Hostility flickered in his expression as he, too, took in the bare floor and meager furnishings. “What? This isn't good enough for you?”

“I didn't say that.”

“But you thought it.”

She reached for her clothes again, but he ripped the sweater from her hands and threw it across the room. “What is it, Beth? Not what you planned? What did you expect—that after Jonah died, I'd be rich?”

“I didn't expect anything. Your grandmother threatened—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But still, when you decided to return, you thought you'd be visiting a wealthy man with a big house and bank account instead of a broken-down, crippled rodeo rider.”

“That's not true!” she said angrily as she slipped her arms through the straps of her bra and clasped it into place. “I knew what you were and who you were, Jenner. I had no expectations, not after I talked to your father and found out that you'd just used me for the weekend.” She pulled on her sweater, tugging her hair through the boat neck.

“I didn't use you.”

“You were still hung up on Nora Bateman, intended to marry her, the way I heard it.”

“From Jonah.”

“He tipped me off, yeah,” she said as she walked to the corner and retrieved her jacket. “But afterward, I listened to the town gossip and discovered that you'd been dating her off and on for years.”

“At the time I met you, if in fact we did meet—”

“You still doubt me?” she whispered, flabbergasted. After what they'd just shared, he still didn't believe her?

His brows slammed together and he looked suddenly savage as he reached for his faded Levi's. “To tell you the truth, I don't know what to think. It seems damned convenient that after one weekend together that I can't remember, you end up pregnant, don't bother to tell me because of Jonah, and then once the old man's gone, show up, whether my grandmother wrote you or not.” Some of his hostility seemed to fade a little as he wrestled with his jeans. Every time he moved his bad leg, he sucked in his breath and swore roundly. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and his face contorted with the effort.

“Let me help you,” she offered, but he sent her a look that could have sliced through granite.

“I can handle it.”

“So I've heard. Over and over again. You're so damned set on being independent that you don't care about injuring yourself again.”

“Last I checked, it was my body. And my problem.”

“I was only trying to help, Jenner, but obviously you don't want it, so I'll leave.” She glanced around the room and shook her head as she reached for the door. “If you want to see Cody again, call.”

Heart pounding with anger and some other emotion she didn't dare name, Beth marched outside, pulled the door shut and took several long, deep breaths. She knew she shouldn't leave him—he was in no condition to take care of himself—but she couldn't take any more of his verbal abuse.

Though she'd seen his kind of frustration in patients before, none of those she'd been caring for had been endowed with the ability to wound her as Jenner was doing. She'd been able to fend off their hostility and bad manners and harsh language with a smile or a fast quip. But Jenner was different.

She'd climbed the stairs and started for home, thinking the long walk would do her good, when she decided that there was another option. Turning abruptly, she hurried along a path at the side of the house that turned past a laurel hedge near the back porch and led to the clinic.

A bell sounded as she entered, and a stern-looking receptionist with a name tag reading Madge Bateman looked up from a computer. At the sight of the woman's last name, Beth nearly stumbled. This woman was Nora's aunt.

“You have an appointment?” Madge asked.

“No, but I'd like to see Dr. Donahue.”

Madge's no-nonsense expression didn't change. “It'll be awhile. We got patients stacked up for nearly an hour.”

“That'll be fine. Tell her Beth Crandall would like to see her.”

“Crandall?” Madge's eyes narrowed and she pulled on the glasses that held by a glittery cord were resting against her ample bosom.

“It's personal.”

“Personal.” Madge, ever unflappable, wrote the message on a pink slip of paper, and with lips pinched a little at the corners, she waved Beth into one of the worn chairs in the waiting area. “I'll let Doctor know you're here.”

“Good. Could I use your phone? It's a local call.”

With a put-upon expression, Madge turned her phone around. “Dial nine first,” she said. Once she connected with Harriet and found out that everything was all right and Cody was napping, Beth felt relieved. Jenner's conversation about danger to her son had worried Beth. Harriet said she had a few errands to run when Cody woke up, but that everything was fine.

After she hung up the phone, Beth thanked Madge, then settled into a chair near a planter and, while trying to stem thoughts of Jenner lying on the floor of his apartment, thumbed through some old newsmagazines.

In less than fifteen minutes, Beth was called to Skye's office. “Come in, come in,” the doctor said, waving from her seat behind the desk. A smile stretched across her face. “What's going on?”

Madge closed the door and Beth dropped into a chair. “It's about Jenner.”

“Oh.” Skye leaned back in her chair and worried a pencil between her fingers. “What's he done?”

“It's what he won't do, which is seek medical attention. He reinjured his leg today and I think you or an orthopedic specialist should have a look at his ankle—maybe his knee—again. I don't know what the ankle looked like before, but, well, I examined it this afternoon and it's definitely swollen and black-and-blue. He's in a lot of pain that he won't own up to and he refuses to have anyone fussing over him.”

“Sounds like Jenner.” Skye rubbed her jaw thoughtfully.
“You
examined him?”

“I'm a nurse, Dr. Donahue—”

“Call me Skye.”

“Okay. I've seen my share of wrenched knees, sprains, torn ligaments and broken bones. Without X rays or an MRI, I wouldn't even hazard a guess as to how bad it is. The leg still supports him—barely—but something's not right. I thought maybe you could take a look at him.”

“If he lets me.” She chewed on the end of her pencil. “But don't worry about that right now. I'm sure I can find a way to convince him.”

“Thanks.” Beth stood. “I appreciate it.”

“Not at all. Someone's got to take that hardheaded cowboy and tell him what's good for him.” She flashed Beth a smile. “It may as well be me!”

 

Jenner felt like hell. His leg was so stiff, he could barely move, his head throbbed, and he couldn't get Beth out of his mind. She'd left him feeling empty and disgusted with himself. Because of his damned leg, he hadn't been able to get her on her back and make love to her as he'd wanted to. Well, maybe this was better. Maybe now he didn't have to feel so guilty because they hadn't made love. Damned close, but they hadn't really done the deed, though the memory of her caused a tingling deep inside and a want for more. Much more.

It was dark now and he looked around his austere apartment with new eyes. He realized what she saw when she came here. A large, unfinished room in the basement of an old house. No carpet. Not much in the way of appliances or furniture. Hell, he didn't even have a bed he could take her to.

He ran his tongue around his teeth and decided he needed a drink. A stiff one. Because he had to make some decisions. He struggled to his feet, then flipped on the light and saw the telephone. Well, it was now or never.

He reached for the receiver and punched out the numbers for one Mr. Rex Stone, private investigator. Though it bothered him more than he wanted to admit, Jenner knew he had to check out Beth—discover what her plans were, who she was. For all he knew, she could have a husband or a boyfriend back in Portland or Oregon City or wherever the hell it was she called home.

Head throbbing, he waited until the phone was answered and Rex Stone's too-smooth voice came over the line. But it wasn't the man himself. Jenner was listening to a damned tape recorder. He had just left his message and hung up when he heard light footsteps on the stairs and his stupid heart kicked a little at the thought that Beth had returned. A jab of guilt cut through him when he remembered his message to Rex Stone, but he ignored the pangs.

“It's open,” he yelled at the sound of knuckles banging on the door. Bracing himself against the far wall, he felt a wave of disappointment when Skye, dressed in her lab coat, walked into the room.

“Well, well, well,” she said. “Rumor has it you reinjured yourself.”

“I'm fine.”

“Prove it. Walk over here.” She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, defiance in her eyes.

“What is this?”

“Concern, Jenner. I got a call from Beth. She says you might need medical attention.”

He let out a string of cusswords guaranteed to turn a sailor's face red, but Skye didn't budge.

“Max is on his way. Either you let us help you into the clinic where I can examine you, or we'll do it the hard way and call an ambulance, but let me tell you, you're going to get the help you need.”

“I don't need—”

“Stop it! I'm tired of you telling me how to treat you.
I'm
the doctor here, remember?”

“What I don't remember is calling for one.”

“You're as stubborn as your brother. Probably worse.” She eyed him up and down, her gaze landing squarely on the leg he favored. “Now, Jenner, it's either my way or the hard way. What's it going to be?”

“All right, Skye, you can get a thrill and look me over, but I'm
not
going back to any damned hospital, so you'd better be ready to give me a brace and some pills for the pain. I can't be laid up right now.”

“You might not have a choice.”

“That's where you're wrong,” he said, planting his crutches and dragging himself closer to her although his leg hurt like hell. “I'm still calling the shots when it comes to my body!”

 

No one was home when Beth returned to her mother's house, and Beth couldn't sit in the living room alone with her thoughts of Jenner and how easily she could have made love to him. When she remembered their intimacy, how passionate their lovemaking had been, she felt herself blush.

Ever since her weekend with Jenner three years ago, she'd told herself that she'd imagined the heat they'd shared, that the force of their lovemaking had been something she'd created in her mind. But she'd been wrong. Dead wrong.

Even now, at the thought of his hands and mouth touching her, she quivered inside, and a deep longing brought erotic images to her mind. Their hunger and desire three years ago had been real. The lust had been strong. But they hadn't loved each other, just as they didn't love each other now. And that was the root of Beth's problem, for she found it impossible to believe in passion without love. Oh, sure, she knew it existed. All the time. But not for her.

Rather than watch the day settle into night, she found her purse and keys and climbed into her car. She'd drive around Rimrock, reacquaint herself with some of her old haunts, and try like hell to force Jenner McKee from her head.