Heat Wave (13 page)

They lay side by side on the floor, oblivious to its hardness or the scratchy beige carpet. Suddenly Cole cupped her face in his hands, leaning over her. “Now, love, do you believe in dreams?”

“Yes!” He had given her a dream of love, of fulfillment. She reached up to pull his head down. She didn’t want distance between them, nothing. She wanted to envelop Cole, to be one with him. She had never felt such wild joyous abandon, such heartbreaking hunger for a man’s body, his touch.

“Cole, please … I want all of you. I want to belong to you now.”

He groaned hoarsely and shifted, stretching on his back and pulling her over him, crushing her to him, taking her in a hard male thrust that made her close her eyes with rapture. His hands stroked as their bodies fused, uniting.

She leaned down to kiss him, her dark red hair tumbling over their faces.

“Marilee, love …” he gasped. “I need you. Oh, love!”

She cried out as a wild sensation exploded within her. Cole’s powerful frame shuddered. His hands closed about her waist, pulling her down.

She was lost, utterly lost in joy and hopelessness, pleasure and pain. …

Exhausted, she sprawled in complete abandon on his broad chest, listening to the wild drumming of their hearts as they slowed to normal. His skin was damp with perspiration, smooth and moist to touch. One strong arm was locked around her, pinning her to him. His other hand stroked the back of her head, smoothing her hair, lifting it off her neck, caressing her.

“That was good, love. So very, very good.” He sighed and his hand moved lower to stroke her back as if she were a kitten.

She slipped to the floor beside him while he turned slightly. One arm still held her close, one long leg moving between hers, the other dropping over hers to hold her against his damp body.

He propped his head on his hand and brushed short hairs away from her face, then leaned down to touch her temples, her cheeks with his lips.

“Cole.”

He paused, his face inches away.

“That was good. I … I haven’t …” It was impossible to tell him she hadn’t ever made love so rapturously with a man before. “It was special,” she finished lamely.

He sat up to look at her and she lay still, enjoying his gaze wandering over her, feeling no embarrassment as she looked at him as eagerly. “Marilee—” He bit off the words. He rose abruptly and held out his hand. “Let’s get that moonlight swim.”

“I don’t have the strength to stand,” she whispered, taking his hand. He pulled her to her feet and scooped her into his arms.

“If you think you can’t stand, this is a superhuman effort,” he said, laughing softly.

“Put me down. I’ll walk. I don’t want you to collapse.”

He moved through the darkened house and shouldered open the kitchen door, heading for the pool. He didn’t slacken his pace when he reached it, but walked just as nonchalantly to the edge and dropped into the pool with Marilee still in his arms.

She screamed and tightened her hold around his neck, remembering just in time to close her mouth. The shock of cold water was delicious, perfect on her hot skin. She clung to Cole, tugging him down playfully until his strong fingers peeled her arms away and he shot to the surface.

She broke through the water and faced him laughing.

“Some thanks I get. I love you senseless and you try to drown me!” His grin belied his gruffness.

“That’s why I did it. I don’t have any sense left. You ruined me, my life, and I’m so bemused I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t, huh.” His hand moved playfully across her bottom. “Let’s see …”

Splashing water on him, she swam out of reach.

He swam to the edge and tugged one of the rafts into the pool. “Come here, Marilee. I want you in my arms.”

“We can’t both get on that.”

“Come here, woman, and stop arguing.”

She swam over to him and he lifted her carefully up beside him. The raft bounced crazily, then settled as she lay back in the crook of Cole’s arm, her head on his warm shoulder, one of her legs thrown over his. His arm held her close, his one hand resting on her bare midriff, his dark fingers splayed over her pale skin. The raft rose and dipped slightly as the waves in the pool settled. They gazed at an extravaganza of twinkling stars splashed overhead in the night sky. A brilliant white moon shone down, looking cold and remote above them.

“Cole, none of your men will come here, will they?”

“No, we have complete privacy. That’s why I have high fences to keep everyone away.”

She stared at the myriad of stars, watching them blink while his words echoed in her mind. “To keep everyone away.” She sensed that, even in his most intimate moments. Cole still kept a barrier around himself, an invisible fence that kept anyone from becoming too much a part of his life, too important to him.

Regrettably, she didn’t do the same.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“I heard a long sigh.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it was satisfaction.”

“Good.”

“This is marvelous,” she said, changing the subject. “It’s unbelievably beautiful out here. How can you go back to Tulsa?”

She spoke without thinking. Only when there was a moment of silence did she realize that she may have intruded, may have sounded as if she wanted to hold him.

Reinforcing her conclusions, his muscles tensed slightly, but when he answered, his tone was casual. “My work is there. I can’t farm and give up the other businesses. Someday I’d like to settle here, but not for years.”

Why had she asked? Forget everything but now, she reminded herself. Everything but that his arms encircled her, his magnificent body lay against hers. They were happy and contented.

“See, you were wrong,” she said.

“How’s that?”

“About my hang-up over a nude male body.”

He chuckled. “I cured you.”

His arm tightened to hold her still as she started to wriggle in protest.

“Maybe you did,” she conceded as her fingers started to caress him intimately.

“Don’t start something you don’t want to finish,” he warned.

“Let’s see. You said I was prudish, had hangups about nudity, was too modest. …” She twisted and raised slightly to look down at him. Moonlight bathed his features in a silvery glow and highlighted his taut muscles, powerful shoulders, flat smooth stomach. All the teasing left her as an ache started in her loins. She wanted to cherish his marvelous body, to explore it thoroughly again, to give him as much pleasure as possible. She leaned forward to trail her tongue over his chest. Instantly his arms closed around her and the raft started rocking.

“Be still,” she whispered, twisting carefully to trace her lips over a bony hip. “Don’t move or well be in the pool. Let me love you. Cole. Let me do this. I want to please you. …”

He groaned, hardening with desire, stroking her back to start the fires that would consume her.

In seconds they rolled into the water, tumbling down, their wet, slippery bodies moving together while Cole returned her caresses.

They bobbed to the surface to kiss, until finally Cole wrapped one arm around her and swam to the edge to get out and lift her up beside him. Together, leisurely, they moved to the chaise. He pulled her down beside him, stroking her cool wet skin until she was trembling with longing.

When she moaned softly, pulling him to her, he shifted her beneath him to possess her, this time taking her quickly, feverishly, his mouth plundering hers in hard kisses until she tore her lips from his to cry out in ecstasy.

Exhausted, they lay locked together. Cole’s arm tightened around her. “My darling witch,” he murmured and closed his eyes.

She shifted to look at him, at the faint smile on his lips, the dark locks of hair plastered damply to his forehead, his broad chest rising and falling with deep, regular breathing. She settled against him, closing her eyes to let exhaustion take away her worries.

Later, she opened her eyes and stared blankly into the darkness, uncertain how much time had passed. She stirred and Cole’s arm tightened around her. She gently pried his arm loose. She had to go home. Cole was like a drug to her system and she needed to get away to where she could view things rationally.

She crossed the darkened patio and entered the house. Upstairs she gathered her shorts and shirt from earlier in the day. As she leaned down in the darkened bedroom to pick up her sneakers, she glanced out the window and saw a light bobbing up and down at the corral.

Curious, she crossed to the window. A light switched on, catching the end of a cattle truck, then the light winked off and the truck was swallowed up in darkness.

Knitting her brow, she stared in the direction of the barns, the pen that held Bonny Charles. The pen with the bull. A chill ran down her spine. Suddenly, the shrill scream of an alarm shattered the stillness of the night.

While the siren’s wail rose and fell, she continued to stare outside for a stricken moment. Headlights blinked on, moving quickly away from the pen that held Bonny Charles. She could clearly see a small cattle truck when it passed beneath the tall lamppost where the road circled away from the barns and the corral. It had to be rustlers driving away with Bonny Charles!

If the truck was headed for the main road, it would pass the house within minutes. Marilee dashed downstairs to the back door to call, “Cole! Cole!”

Above the sound of sirens, she couldn’t hear any answer.

“Cole!”

Panic filled her. Where were all the guards, his massive protection? Where was Cole? She thought of how soundly her father slept. Sirens, even an explosion, might not wake him. She bit her lip.

She started for the pool, then heard a motor approaching in the distance and stopped. The truck would pass the house in seconds.

She whirled, dashing to the living room, and climbed onto a chair to snatch down the loaded pistol that Cole had shown her the first night. Surely, he’d wake in a minute. Maybe she could stop them until he or a guard came.

She glanced down at her naked body, then saw Cole’s shirt lying on the floor. She snatched it up frantically. The truck was almost there.

Racing to the front door, she tried to remember what Cole had shown her about the gun.

The sirens should wake the dead. She made a mental note to fall in love next time with a light sleeper. Fall in love. Where was he? How could he sleep through such racket?

Holding the pistol, she couldn’t pull the knit shirt over her head, so she wrapped it around her body, clutching it with one hand.

As the truck swung around a curve, the headlights struck the trunk of an elm at the front of the fenced yard.

She ran, breathless, sobbing in frustration, fear, and anger. Damn the man and his sleep! How did she release the safety? She tried to remember his strong, brown fingers handling the weapon, his brief instructions.

“Ouch!” she yelped, hopping on one foot for a moment when a briar pricked her skin. When she reached the gate, the truck was only yards away from the front of the house.

She said a small prayer that she could stop them and not kill someone or shoot off her toe. And then all rational thought was gone. She raced to the side of the road as the truck drew level, aimed at the tires, and pulled the trigger.

The sound deafened her and the recoil jerked her hand. The truck sped along. With trembling finger she relocked the pistol, squeezed the trigger, closed her eyes, and fired.

She felt as if the moment were frozen in time. The bullet struck a tire! She had actually hit something!

The tire went flat, throwing the speeding truck out of control. It slewed around in three-quarters of a circle, sending a plume of dust into the air.

Marilee ran toward it until it came to a stop. Raising the heavy pistol, she leveled it at the truck, willing her arm not to shake or waver.

The doors opened and two men spilled out of the truck and rushed toward her.

Her hand ached and the pistol wavered wildly. She stepped into the full beam of the headlights and steadied the pistol with her last bit of fortitude.

“Halt, dammit,” she shouted, “or I’ll shoot!”

Both men stopped dead. Eyes bugging, their jaws hung open while they stared at her and the shirt wrapped haphazardly around her.

“Now look, lady,” one of them began taking a step toward her.

The heavy pistol waggled in a zig-zagging arc. “Don’t move! Get your hands up!”

Her veins turned to ice when she heard a rustle behind her, a low voice swearing steadily.

“Marilee, my God …”

“Where’ve you been!” she snapped without taking her eyes off the two men.

Cole snatched the pistol from her, steadying it on the men. “Hands higher!” he shouted, then said in a deadly quiet voice to Marilee, “Will you get your bare ass in the house! I’ll do this!”

“Where the hell were you?” she asked, ignoring his command.

“Here comes Jack and Bill. Will you get inside?”

Raising her chin, she held on tightly to his shirt and stepped out of the light. Merciful darkness enveloped her as she hurried inside. Her knees were shaking violently. Everything happened so fast, it was impossible to grasp the past few minutes. With one exception. “The next time I fall in love …”

She was in love with Cole Chandler! “Oh, dear God, here I go again,” she groaned as she entered the dark living room.

Moving automatically, she flipped on lights, went upstairs, and dressed in her faded cut-offs, her shirt, and sneakers. Numbed, dazed, she worked with trembling hands. The past half-hour had left her dizzy with weakness, but she knew it wasn’t because of the rustlers. It was Cole, her strong feelings for him. She leaned forward over a dresser and peered at herself in the oval mirror. Only one soft table light was on in the room. Outside, the sirens had stopped. The sound of men’s voices, car engines, doors slamming, came clearly through the open windows. She barely noticed as she stared at the red hair tumbling over her shoulders, her wide green eyes, sunburned cheeks, and freckled nose.

“You’ve done it again, kid,” she told the image. “Really done it this time. Before—that was puppy love. This is the real McCoy. Skyrockets,” she said softly, brushing a tendril of hair away from her temple. “He’s so appealing, so damned sexy. …”

“Now who could this conversation be about?” Cole drawled huskily behind her as his image joined hers in the mirror.

She watched his reflection as he walked across the room to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. He was bare chested and faded jeans covered his hips and long legs. Tousled locks of brown hair tangled enticingly over his forehead. Amusement, satisfaction, and something she couldn’t fathom filled his blue eyes as he turned her to face him. “Marilee, you’re something else. I’ve never known any other woman who would’ve confronted a bunch of rustlers.”

His words mollified her embarrassment. Before she could answer, he added, “Are all your dates as exciting as ours have been?”

Attempting to forget the blush that consumed her, she asked, “Where were you?”

His expression changed, a definite twinkle appearing in his blue eyes. Here it comes, she thought, bracing for his teasing.

“Hon,” he drawled, “the sheriff should hire you to catch all the criminals in the county. I mean those men were stupefied. They were zapped.”

“Cole, so help me! I don’t want to hear one word about it! If you hadn’t been lollygagging, snoozing like the dead out by your pool—It’s not funny!”

“I was dead because a red-haired witch had taken all my strength. Marilee, you’re blushing!” He kissed her throat just above her collarbone.

“I’ve got to get home before Ted and Grant come by to pick me up for work.”

“Well hurry home in time for you to catch your ride back here,” he murmured against her ear. Straightening, he smiled. “I have to go into town to make out a report about the attempted theft. I’ll take you home on the way.”

She bit her lip. “Will I have to testify or go or anything like that?”

He laughed. “I’ll protect you from, er, exposure.”

“Mr. Chandler, you’re pushing your luck!”

Chuckling, he bit her ear lightly. “Don’t worry. You won’t be involved.”

Her attention wandering badly, she let out a long breath of relief. She didn’t want to encounter the rustlers again as long as she lived.

As if he read her mind, Cole said softly, “Honey, don’t worry, they’d Recognize your luscious legs before they recognize your face.”

“Dammit, Cole! Are you really that sound a sleeper?”

“Yep, ‘fraid so. When I woke up, I took a few seconds to put on my pants.” He grinned. “It just didn’t occur to me to rush out there naked as a jaybird. I saw my pistol was gone, the front door was open, and I guessed where my pistol might be. Damn good shot.”

“Thank you. I had my eyes closed.”

Laughing, he gave her a swift hug that knocked the air out of her lungs. His breath stirred her hair as he said, “Seems I remember someone telling me about how ordinary and quiet a life she leads. …”

She pushed away from him. “It is, or was until you came along. And you never did answer my question that night.”

She expected him to ask what question she meant, not to remember he hadn’t answered when she had asked why he wasn’t the marrying kind.

Instead his laughter vanished as he gazed down into her eyes. Abruptly, he said, “We better continue our conversation in the car or the sheriff will come looking for me.”

He turned away, but not before she saw the darkening of his blue eyes, the cold shutter that dropped with finality over his expression.

While she watched him walk away from her, his smooth back rippling with muscles, his trim hips covered in low-slung jeans, his long feet bare, a pain started in her chest, in her heart, spreading its agony to the remotest parts of her being. She couldn’t breathe, her face felt hot. her body ached, and she knew how far she had gone, how far she’d let him go with her. He’d seduced her, taken her body, her emotions, her heart, leaving an aching emptiness.

Without looking back Cole disappeared into the hall. She stayed rooted to the spot, staring into space, hurting and hurting.

The spell ended when she heard his call.

“Marilee!”

“Coming!” she answered, hurrying to the door. She looked back once, as if she had left something important behind and couldn’t find it, then turned and went down the stairs to meet him.

The drive into Wichita was filled with silences between talk about the rustlers, about Bonny Charles, and the coming livestock show. Cole held her close against him. Even while she spoke with him, her mind kept replaying the last few minutes at his house. With her cheek against his hard shoulder, she gazed up at his profile, examining his features while she examined her feelings for him. She was in love with him, deeply, absolutely, too swiftly to comprehend. She wanted to bring it up again, to ask the questions that plagued her, but she didn’t. He kissed her goodnight, dropped her off, and drove away.

During the remaining hours of the night she slept little and fitfully. Cole wasn’t one for commitment. The rustlers—his sole reason for staying at the farm—had been caught. She had known him such a short time. Yet how devastating that time had been! She was in love with him. His image came to mind to torment her as she remembered all the little things about him that she loved: his sexy blue eyes, his laughter, his imagination, his gorgeous male body, his personality—every damn bit of him except his reluctance for any lasting ties. She tossed miserably in bed, finally rising to bathe and dress and go to work.

If Ted and Grant noticed her silence, they didn’t remark about it. Their talk drifted around her, some words registering, most lost. It was another hot June day, the temperature soaring into the nineties early in the morning.

When they stopped in the wide drive, she saw the empty garage and knew Cole was gone.

After working for several hours Ted and Grant followed the usual routine, swimming briefly before lunch. Marilee had lost her enthusiasm and just sat in the shade, sipping tepid cola and leaving her sandwich untouched.

They returned to scraping until the middle of the afternoon when the black Thunderbird roared into the garage.

Marilee’s pulse jumped. Torn with a mixture of emotions, she scraped furiously.

“Hi.”

There went her pulse, her breathing, her wits. He stood a few yards away beneath the shade of an elm. A stubble of whiskers darkened his jaw and his hair was a tangle of curls. His white shirt was rumpled, tucked into dark jeans.

“Where’s Henry?” she asked, keeping her voice even with great effort.

“He’s on the patio. Come down off the ladder. I want to show you something.” As she laid the scraper on the ladder, she asked, “Are the rustlers in jail?”

“Yeah, at the moment.”

Aware of his full attention, she climbed down and turned around to look at him curiously. Not until he reached for her did she guess what he intended. “You’ll get chips of old paint …” she began in a weak attempt to ward him off.

He pulled her into his arms to kiss her and her heart went up in flames. The misery she had suffered the last hours dissipated immediately. While in his embrace, with his mouth demanding her total attention, everything became right again, perfect. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him, aware in a dim corner of her mind that there might not be too many more times to hold him.

Finally he released her, gazing at her solemnly, a flake of white paint on his cheek. “I couldn’t wait,” he said huskily. “It’s been eternity.”

Her thudding heart pounded in her ears, her veins. It was impossible to talk. She studied his features as if trying to memorize them. Brushing away the speck, she said, “You have paint on your face.”

He smiled, his fingers drifting over her cheek. “So do you. Henry’s waiting.”

“I’ll put away my ladder.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll see you after Henry’s lesson.”

It was an effort to walk away, to keep from reaching for him. He had come into her life like a whirlwind, taken her heart, and now was about to rip it away. The same pain she had felt since the night before returned.

When she entered the patio and Henry wasn’t in sight, she went inside to wash and clean up.

Returning to the patio, she found it still empty. “Henry!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Startled, she looked up to see Henry sitting on a high branch of a sycamore overlooking the patio. He started down the tree so she sat down and pulled her materials out of her bag. It was hot even in the shade, and since this was Jada’s day off, there were no glasses of cool lemonade. Marilee pushed wisps of hair away from her forehead and looked around when Henry banged the gate.

Grime covered his face and blue t-shirt. The shoestrings of his frayed sneakers trailed along with each step until he climbed into a chair across from her.

He seemed as unenthusiastic as she when Marilee handed him a book, asking him to read.