Ace's Wild (14 page)

With a grimace, she admitted, “I’m afraid so.”

With a crook of her finger Hester plunked down in the opposite seat. “Then pass me the cream and sugar.”

There was something infinitely likable about Hester’s straightforward approach to problems. “It’s a delicate subject.”

Hester tensed. A little of the cream slopped as she poured it into the coffee. The clay jug rattled as she set it back on the table.

“You’re not thinking of firing me, are you? Because I’ve got to tell you, woman,” she went on before Petunia could respond. “Seems to me you need someone like me around here. If a ladylike little prissy little thing had been here last night when Brian crept in? Well, she’d have just screamed and dropped down on the floor in a dead faint, and where would you be now? Raped or dead or Lord knows what. And Lord knows what that man would have gone on to do to those kids in the state he was in. That Brian when he gets drinking is trouble. Sober he’s just lazy but drunk he’s mean as a bull with a thorn stuck under his tail.”

She paused to take a breath. Petunia held up her hand.

“I’m not firing you!”

Hester sat back in her chair and just stared. “You’re not?”

“Good grief, no. Not with the way you swing a statue. That’s a hard qualification to come by.”

For a second Hester just blinked. And then another. Petunia got a sinking feeling in her stomach. “You’re not going to cry, are you?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so horrified. But Hester was...Hester. Feisty. Indomitable. And if Hester started crying, Petunia would lose her resolve.

Hester shook her head. “No.”

“Good. Because then I would, too.”

Picking up her cup, Hester took a sip, looking at Petunia over the rim. “There’s going to be some that say you are wrong for hiring me.”

“Won’t be the first time somebody’s told me I’m wrong.”

“That still won’t make it right.”

Petunia took a sip herself, savoring the taste of the rich fragrant beverage before swallowing. She did love her coffee. “Changed your mind about wanting the job?”

“Heck, no.”

“Then let me worry about the objectors.”

“All right. Then why don’t you tell me what you do want me worrying about.”

“It’s not exactly a worry.”

Hester snorted indelicately. “Maybe not for me.”

The words wouldn’t come.

“Any chance it has something to do with Ace?”

“A mighty big one.”

“Well, that man’s been grist for the mill since he hit town. You might consider him a well-chewed subject.”

“Lovely.”

Hester hummed in her throat. “He is that.”

The zing that went through Petunia at the thought of Hester with Ace took her by surprise.

“You didn’t think you’re the only one lusting after that man, did you?”

“No.”

“But you want to be.”

“Not necessarily.”

That was a lie. She didn’t want Ace touching anyone else until she figured out what it was about the man that made him so different. Other men had always just been too weak in their approach, too pliant in their manner, too hesitant in their touch. Too something.

But with Ace, everything fell into place, her desire, her will. The man looked at her with that air of expectation, and everything in her centered. He crooked his finger, and she wanted to run into his arms. He bent, and she wanted to rise up on her toes.

If she was Chinese she would say he was the yang to her yin. If she was her mother, she’d simply say he was the griddle to her batter. He did make her sizzle. And she was a woman who in nearly thirty years, had never even reached lukewarm. She wasn’t willing to go another thirty years before finding out where that sizzle ended. The question was where to start?

“Are you going to sit there staring at that coffee cup all day or you going to ask me whatever it is you want to ask me?” Hester asked.

“Have you taken to reading minds?”

“You’re poker face is a bit rusty.”

“Wonderful.”

“The boys will be up soon enough. You might want to get to it.”

“I’m working up to it.” Petunia sighed. “Some things don’t just come tripping off the tongue, you know.”

Hester leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee. Cream only. Pet suppressed a shudder. She took hers with milk and a liberal dose of honey.

“You want to know about Ace.”

It wasn’t a question. “I suppose being able to read people is very helpful in your profession.”

“In my former profession, you mean.”

It was reasonable that Hester was going to be touchy about that definition for a spell. “Yes, your former profession.”

Hester took a sip of her coffee. “Knowing people does save time and trust me, when you’re working that job you want your customers in and out as fast as possible.”

Pet choked on the pun, intended or not. Hester just smiled.

“So what did our Mr. Parker want to discuss with you last night?”

“He wasn’t happy that I left the gun behind.”

Hester raised her brows. “He wasn’t happy that you didn’t have the gun with you or was it more like he was unhappy that you disobeyed his order?”

That was too close to the mark. Petunia looked up only to find Hester staring back at her.

“How do you know that?” Again the suspicion that Hester and Ace had shared more than a friendship perked.

“I haven’t missed the way the man looks at you or the way you look at him. You’re like two starving dogs staring at the same bone.”

Petunia could have wished for a less colorful analogy, but it was appropriate.

Damn it.

The only way she was going to find a cure for this malady was to step into the fire, singe her wings, experience whatever it was her soul said she needed and get it over with.

“Oh, go on and ask me,” Hester urged, popping the lid off the muffin tin and pulling one out.

Petunia bit her lip. The words tingled on her tongue. She could stare down executives and men of power. Plant her feet in the face of an enraged man but she couldn’t ask the simple question.

Hester popped the top off the muffin and nibbled on the edge. And still Petunia couldn’t get the words off her tongue.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Hester rolled her eyes. “You Goody Two-shoes, you always get stuck when it gets down to the nitty-gritty.”

“What do you think I want to ask?”

Hester took another bite and chewed slowly, smiling. As she swallowed, Petunia realized there was something innately sensual about the woman that more than made up for her lack of conventional beauty.

“You want to know what he’s like in bed.”

Petunia choked on her sip of coffee. When the coughing fit stopped, Hester was still sitting there looking at her, a small smile gracing her face. She broke off another piece of her muffin, put it to her lips.

“Well? Isn’t that what you want to know?”

Petunia nodded, using the next cough to cover for the fact embarrassment was winning over curiosity.

This time it was Hester who got up. She took the pitcher that was beside the sink and poured water into a clean cup and brought it over.

“Here, wash that down.”

“I’ll be okay,” she managed to choke out.

Hester shook her head. “I don’t want you having any excuses not to have this discussion.”

She did manage to choke out a “why” before she took a sip of water.

“Because I like Ace, and I’m thinking you’re not too bad yourself.”

“You implied I’m not what he wants.”

Hester waved dismissively with her hand. “Just because men get ideas doesn’t mean they’re right, and I’ve got a feeling about you.”

Silly how so vague a statement could create such hope. “You do?”

She nodded. “You’re a strong woman. Above and beyond everything else, Ace needs a strong woman. The ones he takes up with, they give him what he needs for the moment, but they can’t give him what he needs long-term. A strong man with a weak woman, that’s just poison.”

“I thought he wasn’t the settling kind.”

“That’s what he keeps telling everybody.”

“You don’t believe that?”

Hester shrugged. “I think no man is the settling kind until he meets the right woman.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. “Maybe I’m not a settling woman.”

“We’re not talking about settling, we’re talking about making love.”

Petunia hated the flush that flooded her face. She hated it more when Hester laughed.

“That is what we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And I take it you don’t have any experience.”

Petunia shook her head.

“Lord bless you, woman. You’ve got to be what? Staring hard at thirty?”

She nodded.

“You’re a fine-looking woman. There had to be men who wanted to be with you.”

“None of them made me want to give up my independence.”

“Or your virginity,” Hester hazarded.

Petunia wasn’t used to such plain speaking, but getting to the point had its advantages.

“So what is he like?”

“Well. First off, ’cause you seem the jealous type and I don’t want any knives in me before this is over, I’ve never been with Ace.”

Petunia was inordinately glad to hear that. “But you know others that have been?”

“Oh, yes. He has his regulars.”

Jealousy, futile but powerful bit into her voice.

“Regulars for what?”

“Ace...” Hester shook her head. “He’s a good man, but a forceful man in bed. He demands everything from a woman. Her complete submission to anything he wants.”

Inside Petunia that heat flickered. She remembered his kiss, the way he’d grabbed her hair, remembered last night on the counter when he’d bent her to his will.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

Hester just smiled a knowing smile. “I knew I had a feeling about you and no, for some, it’s not a bad thing.”

Some? “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing you won’t find out soon enough.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s as fair as muffins and an early morning wake-up will get you.”

It was ridiculous to feel so disappointed.

“But Ace wants to be with you,” Hester continued. “How far he wants to go with you, how much he wants to show of himself to you, that’s between you and him. It’s not my place to get between a man and his woman.”

“I’m not his woman.”

Yet.

“Well, let me put this in a way that I think matters. If you want to know why he makes your heart flutter when you look at him, why you can’t breathe when he gets close, you’re going to have to chase him, because that man thinks you’re too delicate to take his love.”

“I’m not delicate.”

“I’m not the one you have to convince.”

“How would you suggest I go about doing that?”

Hester polished off the last bite of muffin and washed it down with the last coffee before yawning. “You’re a clever woman. You’ve been studying the man for months. Figure it out.”

Figure it out.
Another project on her plate. Petunia looked out the window. All that looked back was the vague outline of her reflection. No help there.

“And now—” Hester stood “—I’m going to go upstairs and get a few more hours of sleep. Something you should do, too. Turning that man’s mind is not as easy as turning his head.”

The man was stubborn. Petunia pushed her cup of coffee aside. “Right behind you.”

Picking up the lamp, she followed Hester walking out through the dark hall, feeling the approach of the day and the simmer of excitement. By the time they reached the landing she knew what she wanted and what she was going to do. Now, all she needed was a plan.

CHAPTER NINE

P
ETUNIA
STARTED
OUT
her plan with flirtation. Not her best skill, but Ace’s lack of response gave her ample time to perfect it. From flirtation she moved on to seduction and now, three days later, she was pulling out the big guns. She was up to aggravation. Just let him try and ignore what she was going to do next.

If the rumor of the school board offering her a Christmas bonus was true, she’d be on a stage to California in three weeks, moving on to her dream, leaving behind the only man she’d ever been attracted to. Two little rickety louvered doors stood in front of her. They didn’t keep out bugs, pest or pestilence but they might as well be bars for as much success as she was having pushing through them.

Petunia took another breath and slowly relaxed her shoulders and then her arms and lastly her hands. She could do this. She would do this. Just let Ace Parker brush her aside this time.

She prepared to push through the louvered doors. It felt like every eye in town was on her as she headed for the saloon. God help Ace. If this cost her her job, he was just going to have to buy her a ticket because this was all his fault. If any other woman had rubbed against him or made suggestive comments in his ear like she’d been doing this past week, she had no doubt he’d have been all over them. It was just her he resisted. Damn it.

She hit the doors. It was a bit more force than she intended. They slammed open and in the wake of the ensuing bang, every eye in the house, bleary or alert, focused on her. Stopping just inside the door, she scanned the room.

“Can I help you, miss?” Jenkins asked from behind the bar.

“You could tell me where Ace Parker is.”

Jenkins pointed to the far left corner of the room.

She turned and there he was, sitting at a table with three men. A woman perched on the arm of his chair. She had to go. His chair scraped across the floor as he pushed it back. She got to his side just as he stood. How had she forgotten how tall he was? Cricking her neck back, she smiled up at him.

“Good evening, Mr. Parker.”

Her tone couldn’t be more innocent.

His couldn’t be more dry. “Evening, Miss Wayfield. What brings you into this highly improper environment at this time of the evening?”

She didn’t prevaricate and didn’t lower her voice. “You.”

The shock of that pronouncement had more chairs scraping and heads turning.

If she’d thought to shock Ace, though, she had another think coming. He just stood there matching her nonchalance for nonchalance. The blonde at his side scooted a little closer. Petunia disliked her on sight.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention.”

“He’s a busy man,” the blonde interrupted, slipping an arm around his waist.

“And the last I checked, highly articulate,” Petunia snapped. “Now, if you don’t mind, no one has addressed you.”

The blonde snapped back, “And no one invited you in here.”

Petunia rolled her eyes. “It’s a public place. No invitation needed.”

“She’s got you there, Rose,” Jenkins called over.

To Ace, Petunia asked, “Seriously?”

“It’s not her brains I’m interested in.”

Rose spun around. “Are you saying I’m dumb?”

“I’m saying you’re pretty,” Ace inserted smoothly, removing Rosie’s arm from his waist before sitting back down. Like a limpet, Rosie reattached herself to his side and smiled.

Rosie smiled. Petunia wanted to smack her with her reticule for being so silly. Instead, she ignored her.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for days,” Petunia said to Ace.

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“That would make you the only one in town.”

“Maybe I wasn’t interested.”

The way he said that so cold and final made her stomach sink. Until she looked into his eyes. There was only one word to describe what she saw in his eyes. Hunger.

“Well, for once, Mr. Parker, this isn’t going to be all about you and what you want.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You don’t say?”

Now she wanted to smack him. The blonde stroked his arm. And Rose. She definitely wanted to smack Rose.

“I do.”

“And who put you in charge?”

She was excruciatingly aware of all their listeners. She couldn’t falter now.

“It’s not so much a case of someone putting me in charge as it is someone not taking charge.”

His eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Pet.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Aw, hell.” The man across the table from Ace huffed. “Looks like you got better things to play with than cards, gambler.” He folded his hands and dropped the cards on the table. “I fold.”

The other two men at the table looked at her and him and did the same.

She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate your consideration.”

“I sure as shit don’t.”

“Like the pretty lady said, Ace, it’s not all about what you want.” The men started dividing up the money.

Sidling up to the table, she braced her hand on the back of the chair, and leaning in, Petunia asked him, “Do you know what you want, Ace?”

His eyes dropped, and she knew the exact moment he noticed her gaping blouse. “Son of a bitch!”

Quick as lightning, he grabbed her arm. “Excuse us, Rose. Gentlemen.”

Impatience snapped around them as he was forced to wait while Rose untangled herself. Petunia smiled. It served him right. She was still smiling as he popped her off balance and marched her toward the door. She had to scurry to keep up. They hit the louvered doors with such force they bounced back and caught her on the shoulder.

He didn’t even turn his head when she cried out, just kept on walking.

“Where are we going?”

No answer. A quick glance showed her house ahead. Behind, an audience. She wanted his attention, not the whole town’s.

She tugged at his arm. “People are looking.”

All her tugging did was hurt her wrist.

“Let them look.”

The steel in his tone gave her pause. “I just wanted your attention.”

“And now you’ve got it.”

A belated sense of caution nipped at her frustration. “Ace...”

“Don’t.”

“But...”

“Don’t beg, don’t plead, don’t aggravate. Just shut up.”

She shut up. Until they got to Providence. Then she tried to put her foot down. Afternoon or not, it still wasn’t proper that he go into her house. He didn’t seem to care as he dragged her through the gate and, tossing open the front door, he hauled her in. She caught it and closed it behind them. Prying eyes were everywhere.

“This isn’t proper,” she gasped.

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I’ll make a note.”

Without hesitation, he pulled her over to the straight-back chair sitting by the little potbelly stove.

She started to get a very unromantic feeling. “What are you doing?”

“What your pappy should have done to you long ago.” In one smooth move, he sat and yanked her off balance. Another tug had her lying over his lap. She braced her hands on the seat and pushed up. He put his elbow in the middle of her back and held her down. He was the stronger, so she stayed down. It was that simple. That infuriating. That arousing. She kicked her feet. All she’d wanted was a kiss.

The first tug of her skirt sent a frisson of fear through her. The second added a swirl of dark excitement. The third added a cool draft and a shocking realization that he was lifting her skirts.

“No! What are you doing?” She reached back trying to stop him, but before she could get another syllable out, they were above her head and she knew, just knew, Ace was staring at her ass hidden by nothing but her thin bloomers. The swirl of dark excitement wrapped around her horror, muting it. His hand fell, and she jumped, legs jerking, breath catching, expecting pain but feeling instead the weight and heat of his touch. A threat, a promise. He wouldn’t...

“Don’t,” she gasped. The sound reached her before the sting. The realization came third. He’d spanked her. On her ass. In the living room of her own house.

“How dare you?” She wriggled, flopping about like a fish out of water. “Let me up this minute!”

Another slap, on the other cheek, this time harder, the sting sharper. “You, Pet, don’t give me orders.”

Gritting her teeth she all but growled, “And you don’t spank me.”

His hands moved over her ass in a subtle soothing—or was it a warning? None of this was going as she planned. “Oh, trust me. This is the only thought running through my head right now that you want me playing out.”

She struggled harder. “Damn you, let me up!”

The next spank came harder burning over the top of the first. “Don’t curse.”

The sting lingered, like the graze of his fingers, and beneath the indignity something bigger bloomed. Something dark and tempting that called out to everything feminine within her. It shamed her. It aroused her. It scared her. She put everything she had into the next bid for freedom. The ensuing spank stole her breath.

“Hold still.”

Her “No” broke on a sob. Her confusion rode the heat as it pooled between her legs. What was he doing to her?

The next slap took her breath but the afterburn went straight to her pussy. He didn’t have to say it.

You don’t give me orders.

Oh, God. How could something so decadent feel so good?

“I don’t want this.” It was a lie.

“I do.” That was a truth.

“Ace!”

His forearm stayed firmly planted in the hollow of her spine. Her hands stayed firmly planted on the rung of the chair. It was a battle of wills, and she wasn’t giving in.

“You might as well just settle down and enjoy this. You’ve earned it.”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.”

His palm slid over her butt in a skimming caress, almost contemplative in the nature. Goose bumps sprang across her skin, and the nerve endings under the sensitized skin stretched and lifted in a silent plea. Was she crazy? Was he?

A series of light spanks warmed her skin, not pain, not pleasure but a prelude her body recognized and her mind rejected. The spanking built gradually, leveling, surging, falling, stinging, burning, punishing, pleasuring. Keeping her off balance. Centering her attention. The sound of the slaps filled the room in an erotic cadence. Sensation filled her body in the same rhythmic bursts, and the moment consumed her mind. Anybody looking through the window could see, but she didn’t care anymore. She needed to know, to understand, what was happening. She tried to resist as he soothed her well-warmed ass with a soft caress. But with a simple brush of his hand from her ass to her knee, he stole the impetus and turned the last of her rebellion into curiosity because never in her life had she felt such fiery pleasure. It streaked up her body, raced in goose bumps along her flesh and snatched her very breath from her lungs. There was nothing civilized about this. It was raw, primitive and perfect. Every spank a statement. Every caress a possession. She needed more.

He shifted in the chair. Before she could catch her balance, he was back at it, delivering another series of light, stinging slaps at the back of her thigh and while she was squirming from that, another pass of his hand down her leg, his nails dragging lightly across the goose bumps, inspiring more. Her pussy reacted. Desire flooded out reason. She wasn’t a little girl to be spanked. She was a woman, and even though it made no sense, she’d never felt more than one right now. His hand grazed up the inside of her thigh, sliding over the cotton of her pantaloons, higher and higher in a deliberate tease. With a moan she let go of the chair and collapsed across his thighs, legs spread in breathless, shivering capitulation.

She wanted this.

* * *

A
CE
PAUSED
WHEN
Petunia went still across his lap. Resting his palm on the firm flesh of her buttocks, he could feel the heat of her flesh through her bloomers. There was expectancy to the way she lay across his lap, he recognized. An anticipation that matched that in him. The only difference was she was waiting for something she didn’t recognize.

Him.
She was waiting for him.

Tantalizingly, temptingly, the knowledge lured him. Petunia wasn’t his usual type. She wasn’t sturdy, she wasn’t strong, she wasn’t world-weary, but there was something about the woman that drew him in ways that shredded his good intentions and made mincemeat of the vow he made many years ago to never tarnish innocence. He might cheat a time or two at cards with men who deserved it, but there were also those times he’d thrown a hand or two to keep some farmer from losing everything in a reckless moment. In the end, he figured it balanced out.

He wasn’t all bad, he wasn’t all good but he was far from a do-gooder, and Pet was nothing but one. Like Quixote in the novels, she was always tipping her optimism at some windmill, playing hands that any good gambler would drop and making them work on nothing but sheer determination. She called him a gambler but she was the one who truly gambled, risking everything on a determined hope.

Her hips shifted on his, flexed ever so subtly, teasing him. “Ace...”

The shy whisper brought him back to the here and now. And, looking at the lush flare of her upturned ass, the here and now was a very seductive place. He dug his fingers into the firm flesh just enough to cause indents, just enough to bring that expectancy back to her. The problem was he loved all that passion simmering in Pet, wanted to contain it, direct it, eliminate the scattered force and make her... He sighed and admitted, his.

Every morning he got up and he looked in the mirror and checked what he saw reflected back. Making sure normal still covered the darkness. Lately it had been getting harder and harder to look at the man staring back and not see the cracks in the facade. Ever since Petunia had arrived in town, he’d been getting careless, reckless, even. Needing. Wanting. But Petunia in her innocence and hope was the one thing he couldn’t have. He could try to be normal; Lord knows he faked it a few times in the past, even managed it, for a day or two sometimes a month, but he had only to look at them now. Her skirts pulled up over her head, the only thing between his hand and her ass was the material of her pantaloons, the next spank twitching in his muscles, to know that that subterfuge wasn’t possible between them. It didn’t matter what he wanted; it didn’t matter what his cock wanted; it didn’t matter what the devil on his shoulder screamed. She was who she was. He was who he was and never the two could join.