The Heartbreaker (13 page)

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Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson

BOOK: The Heartbreaker
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Instead he lay propped on his side, not touching her. Scooping up a handful of rose petals, he dribbled them slowly over her breasts and down her body, allowing them to trickle between her thighs.
She quivered as the cool petals drifted over her heated skin.
Picking one from her breast, he used it as if it were a feather. He brushed her mouth, her throat, her nipples, the valley between her breasts, until she began to whimper with unfulfilled need. He continued to caress her, drawing the rose petal over her flat stomach and along the inside of her quivering thighs.
“Please,” she begged, twisting in the velvet nest of rose petals. “Please.”
He released the petal and moved over her to kneel between her thighs. “In your fantasy you imagined me touching you here,” he murmured, capturing her breast and leaning down to take her nipple in his mouth.
“Yes.” The firm suction made her gasp and arch upward into his caress. “Oh, yes.”
Shifting to her other breast, he pleasured her for long moments, as the tension mounted within her.
At last he lifted his head to gaze down at her. “And here.” He slipped his hand between them, pushing aside rose petals as his fingers tunneled through the triangle of curls between her thighs to massage the slick nub that ached for him.
“Yes!” she cried.
He leaned down, and his voice was hoarse as he spoke against her ear. “I almost lost it when you touched yourself like this.”
She gasped as he probed deep.
He stroked her relentlessly. “Did it feel this good?” She could barely speak. “No...never.”
“And did you want more?”
Her breath came in short, frenzied pants. “Yes... yes...yes.”
“Do you want more now, my wild Beth?”
“Please, Mike. Please!”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes as he slowly withdrew his fingers and trailed his hand back up the length of her body. Then he rubbed his fingers against her mouth, urging her lips apart. “Can you taste how much you want me?” he murmured.
She ran her tongue over her kiss-swollen lips. “Yes.”
“I want you even more than that. Before the night is over you'll taste how much I want you, too.”
“Yes.” Her heart beat wildly.
“If I could hold back now, I would, because I want you to be driven out of your mind the way you drove me out of mine.”
“But you can't hold back, can you?” she whispered.
“No...I can't.” With a groan he pushed deep.
She cried out with joy at the completeness of their joining, the ecstasy of being filled by him.
“You belong in the jungle,” he crooned against her ear. “You're full of jungle heat.”
“You're the source of my heat,” she murmured.
“We are the source.” He began an insistent rhythm that mimicked the steady beat of the drums as the weight of his chest on hers crushed the rose petals against her breasts. “Someday I'll take you like this on a bed of fems, deep in the forest, and the wild animals will hear your cries.”
“And yours,” she said, gasping.
“And mine. Ah, Beth, this is no fantasy.” His breath came faster now as the pace increased. “This is...real.”
“I know,” she cried, just before he propelled her to a shattering climax. A second later he exploded with his own. She held on tight as the world tilted, then gradually righted itself. “I know,” she murmured again as the scent of rose petals surrounded them in a riot of fragrance.
 
ALTHOUGH HE'D HAD LESS than three hours' sleep in the past twenty-four, Mike was determined not to spend this night sleeping, either. He had her now, but he still wasn't confident he'd have her after Alana came home. If Beth had to choose between the sister she'd known and loved all her life and the man who'd only recently come back into her world, the pull of family might make her choose Alana. Every moment he spent loving her would improve his chances, however, so he allowed himself only short catnaps during the night.
Rejecting sleep wasn't that difficult; the need to make love to Beth always woke him after a little while, anyway. Apparently desire ruled her, as well, because he could rouse her with a mere touch. True, it sometimes mattered
where
that touch came as to how effectively he brought her out of sleep, but he grew adept at knowing her sensual trigger points.
As they loved the night away, she delighted him with her imaginative approach. Before long, she was as intimately acquainted with every inch of his body as he was with hers, and just the memory of what she could accomplish with her mouth and tongue was enough to make him ache all over again. Her expertise didn't come from experience, it seemed. Gradually, from obscure comments she'd made, he'd pieced together the information about her love life since he'd been gone, and she'd only been intimate with two men. Neither relationship had lasted very long or consisted of much passion, which gave him a great deal of satisfaction.
Early in the morning, when dawn was a whisper of pale gray on the horizon, he turned over in bed and discovered she wasn't beside him. He fought down a moment of panic before noticing that the pile of her discarded clothes on the floor was undisturbed. His shirt wasn't hanging from the back of the chair where he'd tossed it, though.
He got out of bed, pulled a pair of boxers from a drawer and put them on before walking out into the hallway. A light was on in the living room. He found her wearing his shirt and sitting on the old battered sofa holding a framed picture. He knew from the frame which picture it was, and his stomach clenched with anxiety.
“I missed you,” he said, sitting beside her on the couch.
Still holding the picture in one hand, she put her other one on his thigh and snuggled closer. “Couldn't sleep.”
He gazed at the artificially toned sepia photograph in its leather and wood frame. “That was a long time ago.” He remembered the rollicking trip to Tombstone to watch the gunslingers in action on the streets during Helldorado Days. At the last minute Pete had decided to have an old-time picture taken of the five of them.
Ernie and Pete were posed stiffly in ladder-back chairs, dressed in a formal fashion so unlike their usual style, with elaborate coats, collars, cravats and stovepipe hats. The kids were more true to type. At eleven Mike had loved the role of gunslinger the photographer had given him. Alana had been cast as a Calamity Jane clone with six-shooters strapped to her hips. She'd insisted on standing next to Mike and had one arm possessively around his shoulders.
Beth, nine at the time, stood on the other side of the seated men. She wore a dress with a high collar and a bustle, and a feathered hat was perched on her head. She held an open parasol over one shoulder. In keeping with the photography style of that era, none of them were smiling. That in itself was unusual. Laughter had been a common sound when the five of them went adventuring together.
“She'll be here today,” Beth-said, staring at the picture.
“Probably.”
“Mike, I don't want to tell her yet.”
His hopes began to fade. “You'll only hurt her more if you don't tell her right away.” His worst fear was that Beth would decide not to tell her at all, that she'd send him away and end their relationship.
“She has a lot to deal with, considering Ernie's blood clot and everything, and canceling her trip, and seeing you again after all these years. I just can't hit her with this first thing, Mike.”
“And how long do you plan to wait?” he asked quietly.
She wouldn't look at him. “I don't know.”
He took her chin between his fingers and turned her to face him. “We've had quite a time in the past few days,” he said. “The pleasure has been incredible, but there's one thing that's been missing from all of it.”
She looked uneasy, as if she knew good and well what was coming. “Mike, maybe it would be better if we postponed any discussions about us until after Alana gets home.”
“I'm not interested in a discussion. But before this next day starts, before you leave this house, there is one thing you should know.”
“No, Mike.” She tried to twist away.
“Yes.” He held her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I love you, Beth. Not as a brother, or as an old friend, but as a man, a man who feels complete every time he holds you, every time he pushes deep inside you.”
Panic flooded her gaze. “You don't know what you're saying,” she whispered. “Your father's condition has you all mixed up. You—”
“I know exactly what I'm saying. Does my father's condition have you all mixed up?”
“I—I have to wait until Alana gets here.”
Sick disappointment assaulted him. “Alana has nothing to do with whether or not you love me.”
“I know that, but somehow I have to see her before I...say anything to you.”
“You mean you can make love to me all night, in every position imaginable, and that's okay, but you can't tell me you love me, because that's betraying your sister?”
“Mike, you don't understand.”
He hurt, and he wanted her to hurt, too. “Oh, I understand all right. I understand that you haven't grown up, after all.”
She twisted away from him and stood. “I'm getting dressed and going home.”
He got to his feet. “I'll drive you.”
“I'll walk.”
“I'll
drive you
, dammit. Don't let stupid pride put you . in the position of walking through the streets in last night's outfit. I know you, Beth. You'd regret it later.”
“You're right. I accept the ride.” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “Please try to understand about Alana, Mike. She's all I've got!”
She couldn't have done more damage if she'd plunged a knife into him. He swallowed the lump of grief that rose to his throat. “The worst part is, I think you believe that”
12
T
HAT MORNING in the studio, Beth didn't even attempt to cut glass. The dentist's window would have to wait until she'd made it through this crisis. Instead she concentrated on the more mechanical work of applying copper foil to the edges of each section that had already been cut. Unfortunately the repetitive job left her mind free to replay the events of the night before.
Perhaps she'd lost Mike forever because she'd been unwilling to tell him what she'd known for years, that she loved him in a way that allowed no other man to claim her heart. The problem was, so did Alana. In Beth's mind, once she admitted her love to Mike, then she had chosen him over her sister. She wasn't ready to do that yet. She might never be ready to do that.
Mike could be right when he said she hadn't grown up. But he still had a father, while she had no one left in her family except Alana—the one who had taught her to tie her shoes and braid her hair, the one who had loaned her makeup before her father allowed her to have any, the one who had comforted her through her measles, strep throat and her first cramps. Mike was an only child who couldn't be expected to understand the bond between her and Alana, even though he'd said more than once that he did.
When the bell tinkled announcing someone coming into the gift shop, she put down the piece of glass she was foiling and went to investigate with some trepidation. It couldn't be Alana, who would have burst through the back door in a flurry of greetings. But it could be Mike. She didn't feel like having another discussion right now. Hoping to find a customer in the shop, she walked out of the workroom.
Colby Huxford stood next to the counter, a malevolent look in his eyes to match the jagged scab on his cheek. “Hello, Beth.”
“Colby.” She nodded but didn't offer her hand. “I hope your cheek hasn't caused you any problems.” Belatedly she realized he might have been able to press charges, especially if the cut had required stitches.
“No, it hasn't been a problem.” He set his briefcase on the counter and opened it. “But I do have something you might want to hear.” He laid a small portable tape recorder on the counter and pushed the Play button.
Beth's first wild thought was that Colby had been sneaking around Mike's house recording them making love so that he could blackmail her. Yet he knew nothing about the problem with Alana, so that didn't make sense.
Colby's voice came on first.
“So you bought the Nightingale Glass Cutter for your son, Mrs. Eckstrom?”
As Mrs. Eckstrom said that she had, Beth remembered giving Colby that reference to check because the Sierra Vista woman had been so excited about her teenager taking an interest in something artistic.
“Has he had any injuries as a result of using it?”
Beth's glance flicked up from the tape recorder to Colby's face as an alarm bell sounded in her head.
“
Well, he sliced his finger the other day, if that's what you mean.
“With the cutter?”
Colby asked.
“That's what he said.”
“That's impossible!” Beth cried. “You can't cut yourself on that tool. On the glass, sure, but the tool? Never!”
“Did the injury cause any problems for your son?”
Colby's questioning continued.
“Well, he couldn't pitch in the baseball tournament that day, and I heard there were scouts in the crowd, but they might not have been there. You never know.”
“So your son might have missed out on a possible scholarship opportunity Because of an injury caused by the Nightingale Cutter?”
“This is ridiculous!” Beth raged. “You're convincing her that she has a complaint. I'm sure he cut himself on a piece of glass and just didn't explain it right to his mother.”
Colby pushed another button to rewind the tape. “I think you've heard enough. I did convince her, Beth. She's talking to a lawyer today and I'm sure he'll be contacting you. I had to call every single one of the customers you so kindly gave me the numbers for until I found someone with a problem, but I finally found one.”
“You're wasting your time. I can demonstrate that the cutter wasn't responsible for his finger being cut. It scores glass. It doesn't slice it.”
“Possibly. But you'll run up a fair amount of legal fees in the meantime, and Mrs. Eckstrom's lawyer may be able to get an injunction to prevent you from manufacturing any more until this is cleared up. Then there's the bad publicity that may get out. Most people don't know how a glass cutter works. They'll assume it could cause injury.”
Beth glared at him as the implications of his behavior became obvious. Financially she and Ernie were stretched to the max. Even minor legal fees could run them into trouble, and an injunction plus bad publicity would be a disaster. “You lizard. You'd ruin me just for revenge.”
“Heavens, no. I have a deal for you. If you'll sign over the rights to the patent under the terms I dictate, then Handmade will take care of this woman's claim. We have lawyers on retainer who are trained to deal with such things. We may have to pay her a little to keep her happy, but considering what we'll save on leasing the patent from you, it'll be a wash.”
“I can prove that you provoked her into saying those things. It's right on that tape.”
“I guess you didn't notice I pushed the Erase button a little while ago. That tape no longer exists.”
“But Mrs. Eckstrom knows that you called her with leading questions! She—”
“She'd like some money to get her son started in college. And all I was doing was checking on the safety of me tool because my company is in the process of acquiring the patent. Nothing devious about that.” He tossed the recorder back into his briefcase and shut it. “I'm at the White House Bed and Breakfast in Warren when you feel like talking about a deal. I wouldn't wait too long if I were you. When Mrs. Eckstrom's lawyer calls, you'll want to be able to refer the situation to Handmade's legal counsel, I imagine.” He headed for the door.
“You know, I have an apology to make.”
He turned, his gaze expectant. “That's more like it.”
“A minute ago I called you a lizard.”
He smirked at her. “And you'd like to apologize for that remark?”
“Yes. I'd like to apologize to every lizard in the world for the biggest insult I could have paid them! Now get out of my shop.”
His face twisted in anger. “You'll regret your attitude, Beth, when it comes time to sign the contract. You'll get no quarter from me.”
“I will
never
sign your blasted contract!” she called after him. But once he was gone, she wondered if she was just spitting in the wind. The scenario he'd outlined could mean the end of not only the cutter, but Nightingale-Tremayne, Inc. as well. She couldn't risk that
The back door flew open with a bang. “Bethy, it's me!” shouted a familiar voice from the back hall. “Kill the fatted calf, or whatever the hell you're supposed to do at a time like this! Your big sister is in residence!”
 
MIKE FIGURED eventually he'd regret his outburst to Beth, and sure enough, by midmorning, as he was supervising the work of the two machinists from Sierra Vista, he began to feel like a jerk. He'd expected too much, too soon. Not so long ago he'd wondered if he'd even get a chance to make love to Beth at all, and within forty-eight hours he was demanding that she declare her feelings and broadcast their relationship to Alana.
His only excuse was his recent discovery that he was madly, passionately in love with Beth. That was a funny excuse for hurting the very person he claimed to love so much. Ernie had told him not to screw things up, but he was well on his way to doing just that with his impatience. He'd waited eight years to straighten out this mess. He could wait a little longer.
His instincts told him that it would be kinder to tell Alana immediately, but his instincts might be off. He'd rather get the bad news right away, but not everybody was the same. Beth knew Alana better than he did. Timing might be very important, and Beth wanted the freedom to choose the right time. Unless he wanted to alienate her completely, he'd better go along with that
With two employees working with him on the cutters, he soon had a stack of boxes that gave him a reasonable excuse to drive over to Beth's studio. He thought of calling first, but decided he'd rather just appear and not give her time to think about things too much.
 
BETH WASN'T SURE it was a great idea to be drinking beer with Alana at eleven in the morning after getting practically no sleep the night before, but Alana was in a funky mood and had talked her into it After hugs and hauling Alana's stuff upstairs, the two of them sat at the little table in the workroom while Beth filled Alana in on the Colby Huxford problem.
“What did you say the customer's name was, again?” Alana asked. She was dressed in typical Alana style—khaki shorts, a sleeveless, scoop-neck white T-shirt and hiking boots. Her sun-bleached blond hair was caught back with a leather barrette, and after a summer of outdoor activities, she was lean, tanned and glowing with the energy that always characterized her.
“Eckstrom,” Beth said.
“From Sierra Vista, right?”
“Right”
Alana took a drink from her beer and then pointed the bottle at Beth. “It has to be the same family I took down to Havasu Falls last year. Remember how we decided to cross-pollinate our mailing lists for the two businesses?”
“Yeah, but so what if it is the same family? In fact, that might be bad, if they're connected to both of us. If they've become lawsuit-happy, they might decide you let them get sunburned on that trip and now they should be compensated for a greater risk of skin cancer.”
“I don't think that'll happen, and I'll tell you why. That kid of theirs, the one they're now claiming missed his chance to try out for the big leagues, or however it's now being exaggerated, was into drugs last year.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Small stuff, like pot, but he was definitely hanging out with the wrong crowd and giving his parents fits. That hike into the canyon with his folks and his little brother turned him around.” Alana drained her beer. “Not to be immodest, but I turned him around. I told him if he stayed clean I'd make room for him on my first expedition down the Amazon.”
The Amazon. Beth felt queasy with guilt as thoughts of Mike and their secret washed over her.
“Hey, are you okay?” Alana leaned forward and put her hand on Beth's. “Maybe you shouldn't be drinking beer, after all.”
Beth straightened in her chair and squeezed her sister's hand. “I'm fine. And congratulations for getting that kid on the right track. I had no idea that those trips could accomplish that kind of thing.” The beer was definitely having an effect, Beth noticed. She remembered she hadn't eaten anything since dinner the night before, either, and she was becoming more light-headed by the minute.
“Get people outdoors, take away the normal distractions, force them to work together and all sorts of dynamics change. I could almost hire myself out as a family counselor. Anyway, I think we can use this kid's hopes for the Amazon to our advantage, don't you?”
Beth was having trouble following the discussion with the slight buzzing in her head. “I think we need a bag of chips.” She stood up. Not a good move. But she needed food of some description, so she forced herself to start toward the hall and the stairs leading up to the apartment.
Alana leaped to her feet and put an arm around Beth's shoulders. “I'll get the chips,” she said, guiding her back to her chair. “I'll bet you've been up all night cutting glass. You work too hard, Beth.”
“Not really.” Beth sank onto the chair with a little sigh of relief. She wondered how much more of this she could take. Every remark of Alana's stabbed her with guilt, yet she couldn't imagine how to broach the subject of Mike, especially while Alana was trying so hard to help her with Colby Huxford.
“Do you have any of that cheese dip, the kind with the picante sauce in it?” Alana called over her shoulder.
“I think there's some in the refrigerator.”
“Great. This is fun, just like old times, the two of us brainstorming a problem and eating junk.” She took the stairs at a rapid clip.
Beth rested her head in her hands and tried to think, but her brain wasn't working worth a darn. When the bell on the front door of the gift shop jangled, she considered hiding in the back and not acknowledging the summons. Whoever had come in would eventually leave. Of course they might leave with some of the merchandise, which she could ill afford if she was about to be sued.
With an effort she got up and walked out into the shop where Mike was just depositing a stack of boxed cutters on the counter. She'd forgotten he might show up. “Oh, Mike. I—”

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