The Gift (11 page)

“Ditto.” He eased her downward until her feet touched the ground, but kept brushing his thumb against her nipple. “But not on the ground.” He kissed her gently. “You deserve better than that.”

A small gasp tore from her; then, without warning, she squirmed away. With both hands on his shoulders, she gave him a shove that sent him sprawling.

“What the hell?” Ty staggered backward, more from surprise than the impact, though Beth Dearborn was no weakling. “I take it that means no.”

“Got it in one.” Beth righted her T-shirt and took another step away from him. “Were you out front messing with my car tonight?”

“Huh?” Ty’s brain was still in a hormone fog. He shook his head to clear it. “What in blazes are you talking about, woman? You know damn good and well what I’ve been ‘messing with’ tonight.”

“Typical male.” She folded her arms in front of her. “You can just forget that happened. Just a moment of weakness on my part.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Ty rubbed his pectorals, where she’d shoved him. “So you say, but I don’t think so.”

She was silent a few moments—a few too many, to Ty’s way of thinking.

“Think whatever you want,” she said finally. “Doesn’t matter. Just answer my question.”

“What question?” He released a long, slow breath, desire waning in light of total frustration.

“Did you vandalize my car?”

“Vandalize your—” Ty shook his head and held his hands out in front of him. “Woman, you are nuts.”

She muttered something under her breath that sounded totally obscene. “I
saw
someone crawling around under my car just before I came outside.”

“Really?” Should he believe her? “You positive?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Which is it?”

“Dammit.” She rubbed her arms with both hands. “Positive. I think.”

“Let’s have a look.” Chuckling, Ty headed toward the front of the house, but paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Though I’d rather get back to what we were doing.”

She look at him through the moonlight. “Bad idea. Really bad idea. I—I behaved unprofessionally. My apologies.”

“Apology not necessary or accepted.” He continued to stare at her for a beat, then turned to continue toward the front of the house. What an intriguing, gutsy,
crazy
woman.

And he thought he was the one with the hang-ups, living like a frigging monk all these years. Renewed guilt pressed down on him. Well, shit. That was all he needed. Lorilee had been gone a very long time. He had no reason to feel guilty. Besides…he doubted needless guilt was going to help him keep his hands to himself, with Beth Dearborn living under his roof. Not after the pseudo-tonsillectomy she’d just given him…

He grew hot and hard all over again just thinking about it.

So don’t think about it, Malone.

Right. He raked his fingers through his hair and almost tripped over a downspout on the corner of the house. She grabbed his arm.

They both stood like frozen silver statues in the vanishing moonlight. He swallowed audibly, his throat thick, and other parts of his anatomy rapidly following suit.

“Look, we’re both grown-ups, last time I looked,” he said, resisting the urge to cup her pretty face in his hands. That massive amount of hair dwarfed her face, giving it almost a pixie quality—a strange thought to have about such a tall woman.

“And I’m here on assignment.” Her voice was surprisingly steady. She released her breath slowly, dropping her hand to her side. “I’ve always prided
myself on professional behavior.
That
was not professional behavior—at least not for
this
profession.”

He chuckled quietly. “Point taken, but it doesn’t change what happened.” Now he did reach out to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb just beside her lips. “Or what we both feel. And want…”

She captured his hand in both of hers, pressed her lips to his palm. A jolt went through him at the contact. He’d gone from celibate to ready and willing in no time.

He reached for her and tried to pull her into his embrace, but she shied away and dropped his hand. “Ty, please…don’t.”

After a few deep breaths to steady his hormones and slow his pulse, he gave a curt nod. “We’ll try it your way,” he said. “For now.”

“Thank you.” She pointed toward the circle drive. “I’m going to have a look at my car now.”

“We both are.” He took a step, then stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. “Beth, I have to tell you, after what just happened between us—”

“I have a job to do.”

“Let me finish,” he said, but let his hand fall to his side. “I just want to give you fair warning that I am not a man to be trusted.”

She looked up at him sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

He held her gaze in the deepening dark. “Just what I said.”

Beth couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere between coming outside to check on her car in the middle of the night and this moment, she had almost had sex on the ground with a client. One more kiss, one more touch of his mouth to her breast, one more nanosecond, and she would have torn off her clothes and shouted, “Take me! Take me now!”

She drew in that elusive breath.

Beth Dearborn didn’t
do
things like that. Uncontrolled acts of passion were un-Beth, unwise, and unsafe—at least for her. Oh, sure, she liked multiple orgasms as much as the next woman, but only if she was the one calling the shots.

Maybe she should stick with the kind of “man” that required batteries, and had on and off switches. She sure as hell wished she could turn off the urges coursing through her right now.

Permanently off.

Oh, but that would mean no more multiple orgasms. On second thought…

Damn, but she wished Sam were here right now. Sam was the one person in the world she could talk
to about anything, including Ty Malone and her sexual frustration.

And—
face it, Dearborn
—tough, smart-ass Sam was the only person in the world who could help Beth stay sober, no matter what.
He’ll be here in two weeks, twelve days, and ten hours.

She drew another shaky breath, following Ty at a safe distance. Fortunately, it was dark enough that she couldn’t make out the shape of his ass, but she remembered it well enough to fill in the missing details.

Who could have imagined that a farmer from Tennessee could kiss like Ty Malone? Renewed heat washed through her from head to regions better left unacknowledged. Her nipples, still hard and moist from his mouth, brushed against the soft fabric of her T-shirt. At this moment, the son of a bitch wasn’t even touching her, but he was still tormenting the hell out of her. “Creep.”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Did you say something?”

“Nope,” she lied. “Car’s right over there.”

“Yeah, I know.” She saw his teeth flash in the waning moonlight when he looked back over his shoulder. “I got your backpack out of it for you yesterday morning. Remember?”

Had that been yesterday? Already? “Wow, how time flies,” she deadpanned.

“Ha. Ha.” He covered the last few steps to her car and leaned on the hood. “So…where do you think you saw someone?”

Beth wasn’t about to give him any more information than he might already have. “One side or the other. Definitely not the front or back.” She stooped
on the driver’s side and used her penlight in an attempt to illuminate the mechanical workings beneath the vehicle. “I can change a tire and put oil in it, but this is all Greek to me.”

Ty pulled a slightly larger but no brighter light from his pocket and stooped beside her.

He has a flashlight.
But was that little thing powerful enough to create the beam she’d seen from her upstairs window? “Why don’t you go shine your light from the other side while I shine mine from over here?” she suggested. “Maybe they’ll meet in the middle.”

He aimed his light in her face, but it didn’t blind her enough to make her miss the expression on his face. No, the look he gave her suggested he found her insane. “Whatever you want, Dearborn.”

He rose from his crouch and she fell back on her haunches. “Shit,” she muttered under breath.

“I heard that,” he said as he walked around the front of her car.

Was she that transparent? Had she completely lost her touch, or was he that cool? Or that innocent…? She hoped for the latter—seriously hoped.

After a moment, a weak, narrow beam came from the far side of her car. It seemed unlikely that this pitiful instrument had created the light she’d noticed from her window earlier. “Do you see anything?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t see through her foolishness.

“I see the underside of a total piece of crap.”

“Eat my—Er, never mind.” She reconsidered her words, as she’d have liked nothing better than to have his mouth on her again, and vice versa. Besides, her car really was a piece of crap. He would know,
having changed her tire just a couple of days ago. “You know what I mean, Malone.”

“So we’re back to
Dearborn
and
Malone.
”

She let that one go. He’d called her Dearborn just a bit ago, and she hadn’t commented. After all, she was the one who told people to address her by her last name more often than not. Still…having heard him use her first name like a caress earlier in the evening, its avoidance now seemed almost like an insult.

“Something’s wet and sticky under here,” he said. She heard a scraping sound she attributed to a man’s sliding under a car on gravel—made sense, considering—and leaned to her side, hoping her pitiful penlight would offer some additional help.

“Not rainwater from last night’s storm?”

“I said sticky.” He grunted, and she heard him scooting on gravel again. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?” She flopped completely onto her side, aiming her light as far under the car as possible. “What the hell is it, Ty? What did you find?”

Or do…?

Though she really didn’t want to believe he’d done anything to her car. Furthermore, if he had, he must have hidden a larger flashlight somewhere before he’d run into her, because he didn’t have it on him presently. For now, she had to pretend he was innocent.

“What is it?” she asked again.

“Definitely not rain.” He grunted, and it sounded like he was scooting back out from under her car.

She pushed to her feet just as he did the same on the passenger side. “Then what is it?”

“Can’t be sure, but I’d say brake fluid.” His voice was solemn. “I think it’s leaking.”

“So that’s what they were doing.” Beth gnashed her teeth and switched off her penlight. “Guess we’ll have to wait until daylight to be sure.”

“Yep.” The crunch of gravel told her he was coming toward her, even though he had also turned off or put down his light.

She noticed something else for the first time. The footsteps she’d heard earlier had been heavier and definitely from hard-soled shoes—like boots. It sounded to her like Ty was wearing sneakers.

“Um, Ty?”

“So now I’m Ty again?”

“For now.”

He touched her forearm, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced through her. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

A low chuckle drifted to her on the cool night air. “I reckon that’s allowed, considering we’ve shared spit and all.”

“Gosh, what a sexy thought.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t prevent a grin from spreading across her face. “Seriously…what kind of shoes are you wearing?” She flipped on her penlight and aimed the weak beam toward his feet, and made out what she thought was something red. That was about it.

“My shoes?” He looked down. “An ancient pair of Keds, because Pearl can toss ‘em in the wash after I’ve been in the barn.” He brought his gaze back to hers. “More practical than my boots. I wear ’em fishing, too, unless it’s too cold.”

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could
feel his gaze on her. The man had some weird kind of power over her, and she didn’t like that—not one bit. No one was allowed to have power over Beth Dearborn. No, sir. Not allowed.

The dead had done that most of her life, and look where that had gotten her. No, she had to remain in control at all times. Losing control meant losing everything…

“Keds?” Despite her confused resentment toward him, her relief about his choice of footwear made her grin again. “That’s great. I’m glad.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, really glad.” It was all she could do not to throw her arms around him and give him a great big kiss.

He aimed his penlight right in her face again. “Beth Dearborn, you are one really strange woman.”

Now she did laugh—a low, sultry sound Sam had always called her “naughty laugh.”

She put one hand on her hip and said in her best belle imitation, “Honey, you don’t know the half of it.”

He leaned so close to her face she felt the warmth of his breath. “That’s what I’m
afraid
of.”

Ty stripped off his clothes and fell into his lonely bed with Beth Dearborn on his mind, wreaking havoc with his libido. The woman oozed sex appeal, and it was clear she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He flopped onto his back and stared blindly at the ceiling. The woman had issues. Cecil would call it “baggage.” Even recognizing that didn’t do a damned thing to cool Ty’s urgent need.

He was in bad shape.

He rolled onto his side and punched his pillow. A full day of work was only a few hours away, and he hadn’t slept at all. His mare still hadn’t dropped her foal, which meant another sleepless night, if she didn’t deliver soon. He’d give Doc Barnes a ring today, just in case.

All right, get some sleep, Malone. Enough lusting after the crazy lady.

Though
crazy
wasn’t the right word to describe Beth Dearborn.
Haunted? Tortured? Troubled?

It had been years since he’d visited what his dad had called “Lily Palm and her Five Sisters,” but he didn’t want that now. Masturbation couldn’t come close to satisfying the raw, burning need eating away at him. Only the woman who’d ignited this flame could extinguish it.

And that was just what he
didn’t
need.

Exhaustion crept over him, and he wished he could order his body to sleep on command. Of course, he knew from personal experience that wasn’t possible. Lord knew he’d spent enough sleepless nights after Lorilee’s disappearance trying.

Lorilee.
Odd that she was the cause of Beth Dearborn’s being here, yet the niggling guilt he felt about the prospect of being with another woman—even after all these years—was also because of her. Talk about a catch-22…

Lorilee…

He thought back to that long-ago day when he’d made his way back to Brubaker after his dad’s funeral, and the first time he’d laid eyes on his future wife. She was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen—petite and blonde and spoiled rotten.

Ty had returned in search of the mother he hadn’t
seen since age three. He had no memory of her, and his father had told him she was dead. Only after his dad was gone did Ty discover the truth while sorting through the man’s legal documents—a divorce decree, custody order, and so forth. So he and Ty’s mom had divorced, and his dad had taken Ty far away from Brubaker, Tennessee.

At nineteen, Ty wasn’t ready to lose his dad and head out on his own. He had only one semester under his belt at Oregon State before a rain-slick highway and a horrible accident ended his dad’s life. After that, Ty didn’t have the heart to return to school. Instead, he’d sold the small house where his carpenter father had raised him, and set out in search of the mother he couldn’t remember.

Ty didn’t know what to expect when he reached Brubaker. He used a fake last name when he first showed up at William Brubaker’s employment office. The big man said they were hauling hay and needed strong backs. He put Ty right to work on Cecil Montgomery’s crew.

That very first day, Ty knew he wanted to work the land. He loved being outside under the sky, getting dirty, and working with nature. A week went by before he gathered enough courage to ask Cecil about his mother. She didn’t work there anymore. She’d retired and moved into town a few years earlier, but her son was there.

Ty folded his hands behind his head, still staring at the dark ceiling. Nancy Malone had been a lush. There was really no other word for it. When he showed up at the front door of her small ranch house in town that same evening, she was beyond tipsy. Even so, the first word out of her mouth was his father’s
name. That figured—after all, he looked just like his dad.

She’d thrown open the door and called him Tyrone. A sad smile curved his lips. No one had called him that since grade school, when one kid had laughed about his rhyming name. Ty had beat hell out of him, and that had been the end of it.

He’d told her yes, just as a gangly man in his early twenties walked in the door. Ty had seen him around the Brubaker spread a time or two.

“So you’re my long-lost kid brother,” Gary had said, but his tone made it clear he was far from pleased to see Ty. “How about that?”

That first night, right there in Momma’s living room, Gary had announced his intention to marry the boss’s daughter. Ty immediately noticed how much that disturbed their mother, but Gary seemed oblivious.

At her request, Ty had moved into the spare room, announced his true identity, and taken his rightful place as her son. The next day, Gary moved into the bunkhouse at the Brubaker spread.

Gossip being what it was in a small town, Ty heard the rumors about Gary’s paternity. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand why their mother didn’t want him dating Lorilee Brubaker.

His possible half sister.

Ty tried to befriend his half brother, but was immediately rejected. His presence was unwelcome—that was made abundantly clear. He’d come to Tennessee in search of family after losing his dad, but what he’d found was a cesspool of scandal.

And Lorilee Brubaker. Sweet, pretty, innocent, seventeen-year-old Lorilee…He’d fallen as hard
and fast for her Southern-belle ways as he had for farming and ranching. He’d vowed to wait for her to grow up enough to marry, but they’d been too much in love to wait, of course.

Ty was an irritant to Gary from all sides. First, their mother loved Ty, too, and Gary couldn’t abide sharing. He’d been an only child all his life, and suddenly he had to share his momma with a half brother he’d never known.

Second, Cecil Montgomery declared Ty a “natural-born farmer,” and made him a foreman almost immediately. His rise in status and open acceptance in town made Gary resent him even more.

And Lorilee.

No one ever came right out and told Gary that Lorilee was off-limits. That she might be his half sister. He seemed totally ignorant of the gossip Ty had already overheard during his short time in Brubaker.

So when Ty and Lorilee were seen together around town, Gary started making threats. The tires on Ty’s old truck were slashed first. Then his room at his mom’s house was ransacked. The few precious photos he had of his father were strewn around the room, and one had been deliberately destroyed.