Do Me Right (14 page)

Alone now, Theresa sat on the side of the bed and smoothed her hand over the hand-crocheted bedspread. And what a guest room! It was like something out of a dream, full of antiques and lace and flowers; the kind of room Theresa had always wanted, the kind she'd tried to recreate in her apartment. But instead of flea-market finds and thrift-store bargains, this room was filled with family heirlooms.

She leaned forward to examine more closely the crocheted roses on the coverlet. Kristen had said her grandmother had made this. She must have spent hours crocheting such tiny stitches.

A knock on the door made her jump. She smoothed her hands down her thighs and straightened her shoulders. "Come in."

The door creaked open and Kristen's oldest daughter peeked around it. "Hello."

Theresa eyed her warily. "Hello."

The girl came all the way into the room and shut the door behind her. "My name's Kim."

Of course. Another
K
name. "Hi, Kim. I'm Theresa."

The girl nodded solemnly. She looked to be about ten. She had Kyle's chin and his golden-brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose. The two stared at each other for a long moment until Theresa began to feel uncomfortable. "Did you want something?" she asked finally.

"Are you gonna marry Uncle Kyle?"

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Her heart fluttered crazily and she stared at the girl. "N-no!" she stammered. "Why would you think that?" Maybe Kristen had sent the girl up here to ferret out information that she was too polite--or too clever--to ask for herself.

Kim shrugged. "He never brought anyone home with him before."

There went that fluttering again. Amazing what nerves would do to a person. She took a deep breath, hoping she looked calmer and more at ease than she felt. "No, I'm not going to marry Kyle. We're friends." She'd intended the word as a G-rated substitute for
lovers,
but it struck her at that moment that the statement was fact. She and Kyle
were
friends. She'd grown to enjoy his company even out of the bedroom. He made her laugh and he was a good listener.

She marveled at the idea. She'd never had a male friend before, unless you counted Zach. And of course, he didn't count because he was her brother. "Where is Kyle now?" she asked.

The girl pushed away from the door and came to stand in front of her. "He and Mama are in the kitchen talking."

She nodded. "Probably about me."

The girl's eyes slid away. "Well, Mama's been real excited about y'all coming to visit. She's spent two days cooking and cleaning." She made a face. "And I had to spend all my time helping." She looked back at Theresa. "I told her you weren't going to notice if the baseboards weren't scrubbed, and it's sure not likely Uncle Kyle cares."

Theresa laughed. "You're right. I don't even notice baseboards. And I've never scrubbed one in my life."

Kim smiled. "Mama said we had to do it to make a good impression. And I think she just wanted to keep busy so the time would go faster."

Was it possible Kristen had been
nervous
about meeting her? "Why was your mother so excited about this visit?" she asked.

The duh look on the girl's face told Theresa she'd just asked a dumb question. "Uncle Kyle is her brother! He's just about our favorite person in the whole world, and Mama's only family besides Daddy and us kids. We have some cousins down near Houston, but Uncle Kyle's the only close relative. And he doesn't visit near enough to suit Mama."

Theresa thought of Zach. He was her only family. They weren't the type to fuss over each other, but when he and Jen came back to visit, she'd probably boss him around, which was just a different kind of fussing, really.

"Whatever they're talking about now, Mama didn't want me to hear," Kim said. "She sent me outside to play."

"But you didn't go outside."

The girl shook her head. "I went out the back and sneaked back in the front. I wanted to talk to you."

Theresa shifted on the bed. "Why?"

Kim took a step closer. "Because you're different." She reached out and brushed her fingers across Theresa's knee. "I never saw anybody with clothes like this except on TV."

Theresa smiled. "I like to dress a little different."

The girl touched the band of flowers encircling Theresa's arm. "You have a lot of tattoos."

"Not so many," Theresa said. "I know people with a lot more."

"Well, you have more than anybody around here." She stared at the tiger. "Did it hurt to get them?"

"Not much." She tugged her vest over so the girl could see the whole tiger. "My brother drew this one for me because he said I was fierce as a tiger."

Kim nodded. "Mama would have a fit if I did something like that."

"It's a big decision. A tattoo is permanent, so it's best done when you're an adult and you're absolutely sure."

"I guess it's not like cutting your hair or something." She fingered her braids. "Mama won't let me do that, either."

"I don't blame your mother. You have very pretty hair." She smiled.

Kim smiled back. "It's not as long as yours."

"I haven't cut mine since I was in sixth grade." One of her foster mothers had insisted on cutting Theresa's hair in a pixie style, saying she didn't have time to take care of long hair. Theresa had cried for a week afterward and vowed to never let anyone cut her hair again.

"I guess long hair's not so bad." She took a step back. "You won't tell anybody I came up here, will you? Mama wouldn't like it."

"I won't tell." She put her hand over her heart. "Promise."

"I'd better go. Mama said you were resting, so I'd better let you rest."

"It was nice meeting you," Theresa said, and she meant it. She didn't usually have much to do with children, but talking with Kim had helped her relax and feel better about this visit.

Of course, it was going to take more than one friendly kid to help her get through this weekend. This wasn't turning out at all like the vacation she'd planned.

"How would you know what my type is?" he asked.

She punched the lump of dough and folded it over on itself. "She's certainly not like any other woman you've dated."

"None you've met." He sipped his coffee and enjoyed watching Kristen squirm a little at this reminder that he had a whole life she wasn't a part of. But truly Theresa wasn't like any other woman he'd dated. None of the others had shared her intriguing combination of wild woman and tender girl. And none of the others had sparked the fireworks they'd enjoyed--in bed and out.

"How did you two meet?" Kristen asked.

"At her tattoo shop."

"She owns a tattoo shop?" Kristen's face paled, so that her freckles stood out on her nose.

"Yeah. She's really talented, too." He pushed back his chair and held out his arm to show Kristen his new tat. "She did this one."

"Oh, Kyle." You'd have thought he'd cut off his nose, Kristen sounded so disappointed.

He braced himself for a lecture, but somehow she refrained. He'd give her credit for that, just as he appreciated how she'd welcomed Theresa despite her misgivings.

"So what have you been doing with yourself lately?" she asked, turning her attention once more to the bread. "Besides getting tattooed. Are you working somewhere?"

"Nope." He stretched out his legs in front of him and fought back a wave of guilt. "I'm spending my days playing pool and going to the gym and living off my savings." At least that sounded better than admitting he'd been a lazy bum.

She frowned at him. "Your savings won't last forever. You need to think about your future."

He raised his arm. "I'm rid of this cast in five weeks. I'll still have time to hit a few rodeos, earn some money."

"You can't rodeo forever. And what if the next time you get kicked in the head instead of the arm?" She plopped the lump of dough into a bowl and covered it with a cloth.

"I'm more likely to get hurt working here on the ranch. Didn't you tell me Ken had to have six stitches just a few weeks ago when he ripped open his arm on a piece of barbed wire?"

"Yes, but at least if you were here you'd be working for something you could hold on to into the future." She turned to face him. "I just don't understand why you're so set on turning your back on something that belongs to you. And you're good at ranch work. Ken says you're better with cattle than he'll ever be."

"But I don't like the work." He stood and set his empty coffee mug on the counter beside her. "You just want me here where you can keep an eye on me."

She smiled. "Is that so bad?
Somebody
needs to look after you."

"I do all right looking after myself." He patted her shoulder. "I think I'll go up and see how Theresa is doing."

"All right. We'll have dinner at six."

"Good. That gives me time to take a nap."

"A nap?" She looked alarmed. "You're not coming down with something, are you?"

He stretched his arms over his head. "Nope. But I had to get up before noon to come out here. I'm not used to these early hours."

The tip of her dish towel barely brushed him as he exited the kitchen. Laughing, he climbed the stairs up to the guest room. He'd expected Theresa to join them in the kitchen after "freshening up"--that female code for, what? Going to the bathroom? Redoing her makeup? She'd looked fresh enough to him, but then he'd decided maybe she was just giving him and his sister a chance to be alone. He'd have to make sure she understood that
she
was the one he wanted to be alone with this weekend.

He tapped on her door and when she muttered a greeting he pushed it open. She was seated on the side of the bed. "Hey, there," he said, shutting the door behind him. "How are you doing?"

She looked around the room. "I'm feeling a little like I wandered into the wrong neighborhood." Her gaze met his. "I can't believe I'm the only person in this house whose name doesn't begin with
K.
"

"Thank God." He came to stand between her legs and hugged her close. "I might choke on terminal cuteness if I added to the whole
K
thing."

She looked up at him. "What did your sister say about me?"

"That you're different from the other women I've dated."

She frowned. "Is that true?"

"She hasn't met all the women I've dated." He smoothed his hands down her arms. "But it's true."

His hands dropped to her breasts, but she pushed him away. "What's she doing now?"

Why was she so concerned about Kristen? She ought to be concerned about him. "She's in the kitchen cooking the fatted calf for the prodigal."

She made a face. "I should go down and help her. That's what a good guest is supposed to do, right?"

He shook his head. "No. She doesn't like anyone in her kitchen when she's going all out like this." He unbuttoned the top button of her vest and she didn't stop him, which he took as a good sign. With luck, he'd distract her from all thoughts of his sister or this house or anything but the two of them.

"I guess she's excited to have you visiting."

He was more excited about getting Theresa undressed. Ever since they'd stepped into this house, he'd been hot for her. Guess it was the whole idea of getting away with something he wasn't supposed to. But the way she stared at him told him she wasn't going to let him get by without answering the implied question. He shook his head as his fingers continued to work loose her buttons. "I told Kristen not to make a fuss, but I should have saved my breath."

She put her hand over his. "But she has to make a fuss."

"She does?" He stopped fumbling with the button and studied her face. He hadn't pictured Theresa taking his sister's side on any issue. "What makes you say that?"

"You're her only family, really. The way Zach is my only family. So I can see how you're special to her. And she wants you to know that."

He knew that. But discussing his feelings for his sister while trying to seduce his lover was putting a damper on things. He sank down onto the bed beside her and frowned at her. "You don't understand. Kristen always takes this stuff too far. When Zach wanted to go to Chicago, you didn't have a conniption, did you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not."

No, Theresa wasn't the conniption type. That was one of the things he liked about her. "Well, Kristen would. I'm in the same state and she pesters me to come back here. I don't get why Kristen can't let me do what I want with my life."

"I don't know." She smoothed her hands down her thighs, drawing his attention to the way those leather pants clung to her. If he could just get her off the topic of his sister...

"Maybe...maybe it's because I've had a lot of practice giving up stuff, and she hasn't."

Her words hit him in the gut, replacing lust with something even stronger. She looked so calm and unaffected right now, but he could feel the pain behind the words. The fact that she'd even said them--to him--moved him. He put his arm around her. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. He felt the tension in her shoulders, saw the fine lines tighten around her mouth. "It's just that when I was a kid in foster care, I learned not to get too attached to a room or a toy or a friend--or even a family. Because after a while, I always had to move away to a different family and situation. That's just the way life was."

He pulled her close, an ache around his heart for her. Sure, all she'd been through had made her tough on the outside, but he knew her well enough now to see how soft she really was inside. He wanted to protect that softness, to let her know it was safe to show more of that to him.

She let him hold her, which ratcheted up the tenderness he felt for her another notch. A week ago, he'd have bet she wouldn't have let down her guard this much. Funny how far they'd come in such a short time, how close he felt to her now.

"Kristen hasn't had to give up as many of the things or people she loves," she said. "So maybe that makes it hard for her."

He rested his chin on top of her head and breathed in her sweet scent. Desire was closing in on him again, but something deeper than mere wanting this time. This feeling was more urgent and needy. "I see what you're saying," he said, smoothing his hand over the silken fall of her hair. "But you can't hold another person that way. She needs to understand that."

She looked at him. "Down inside I think she already knows it. She doesn't strike me as dumb."

Looking down at her, he glimpsed the shadowed valley between her breasts and felt a sharp pull of arousal. He didn't just want her now--he had to have her. "I don't want to talk about Kristen anymore." He kissed her, his mouth hard against hers, his hands unfastening the last button and pushing the vest aside, his fingers edging up under her bra to cup her breasts. He could get lost in these kisses, forget everything in the way they made his heart pound and his blood rush. Kissing Theresa was an instant high, better than any drug.

She tried to push him away, her face flushed, her breath coming in pants. "Kyle, what if somebody walks in?"

He heard the real distress in her voice. "I can fix that." He shoved off the bed and three strides took him to the door. He locked it, then moved a chair in front of it for good measure.

She frowned at his efforts. "So they can't get in. They'll still figure out what we're doing in here."

"No they won't." He joined her on the bed once more and took both her hands in his. "The kids are outside playing. Ken's out working and Kristen is up to her elbows in potatoes and pastry." He lay back and pulled her over on top of him. "And I've been horny all day, thinking about getting you alone."

"We're not exactly alone." She glanced back at the door.

Her breath caught as he unhooked her bra and pushed it aside, then sucked her nipple into his mouth. "We're alone in this room." He spoke around her, his voice muffled. "On this bed. Just you and me." He flicked his tongue across the rigid tip, enjoying the feel of her, the sound of her heavy breathing.

"But...but what if...if someone hears us?" She squirmed on top of him, every movement increasing his arousal.

"You'll just have to be quiet." He smiled, remembering how he'd made her scream the last time they'd been together. He transferred his attention to her other breast. "Can you be quiet?" He sucked harder, emphasizing the words.

"I don't know...." Her voice trailed off into a low moan. He shaped his hands to her bottom and pressed her against his erection. He was hard as a rock and he wanted her to feel that--to know she was the one who'd brought him to this.

She tore at his shirt, endangering the buttons. Her nails scratched the sensitive skin of his belly and she planted wet kisses across his chest. "What if I can't keep quiet?" she asked, even as she lowered the zipper of his jeans.

He reached up and jerked the bandanna from around his neck. "You can use this as a gag." He trailed it across her lips, remembering the last time he'd used it in lovemaking--that first night together, when he'd blindfolded her.

Her eyes darkened, and he thought she was remembering that night, too. They'd known each other only one week, and yet so much had passed between them in that short time. They moved in concert now, practiced lovers in tune with one another. Knowing how she looked, how she would respond, what she wanted from him, added to his anticipation and pleasure. And yet he would never fully solve her mystery--a thought that made sex between them all the more exciting.

She rolled away from him and stood to finish undressing. Watching her, he stripped out of his jeans, his erection springing free, hard and aching. She bent to place her boots neatly by the bed and he groaned at the sight of her rounded ass. Standing, he hugged her from behind, his penis nuzzled between her thighs, his chest pressed against her back while he cupped her breasts. "Just so you know, I plan to get you alone as much as possible this weekend," he said, his lips pressed to her neck.

"Is that a promise?" She reached out and folded down the bedspread. Her hand lingered on the lacy coverlet. "This is so pretty," she murmured.

For all her toughness, she always had liked soft, feminine things. She wore leather and denim on the outside, but her underwear was trimmed in lace. And for all her boldness, he'd seen her melt in his arms. He wanted to make her melt again, to burn away every bit of the coldness she used as a defense.

He helped her onto the bed and crawled in beside her to lie facing her, smoothing his hand across her hip and thigh. She had the bandanna wrapped around one hand, a hint of anxiety lingering in her eyes. "It'll be all right," he said, leaning forward to kiss her shoulder.

"When you were a teenager, did you ever sneak girls into your room to have sex?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No." He grinned. "I sneaked into a few girls' rooms, though." He kissed the valley between her breasts, then slid lower, his tongue trailing along her breastbone, lingering in the indentation of her navel, kissing his way to the narrow strip of curls between her thighs. "Don't ask me why, but knowing at any minute the girl's father could burst through the door waving a shotgun made sex even more exciting."