The Rancher And The Runaway Bride: Part 3 (3 page)

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” he said wryly. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to make a pass at you.”

Well, why the hell not?

For a moment she didn’t breathe. Dear Lord, had she said that or merely thought it?
By the look on Brady’s face, the calm, if slightly self-deprecating expression, she’d
only thought the words.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“As if you want me to do something we’re both going to regret.”

Hunger descended with the speed and power of a tornado springing unexpectedly from
the heavens. Need and desire caught her up in a vortex she could neither explain nor
control. She could only hang on and endure.

She told herself it was just the danger and the circumstances. She would be attracted
to anyone who happened to be with her right now. Yet, even as she thought the words,
she knew they weren’t true. She’d admired Brady from the first moment she’d met him.
Time had turned admiration into liking and then into love. Love, true heart-deep affection.
That was the reason she wanted to be with him. Even if they couldn’t ever share a
life together, she wanted to know what it was like to join fully with the man of her
dreams.

“You have no idea what you’re asking,” he said, inching away from her.

“Don’t I?”

“Randi, I can’t play this game.”

Tears filled her eyes. “If you knew how much it wasn’t a game. If you knew how much
I care about you.”

“Don’t cry.” He slid forward, gathering her against him. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Really?”

He chuckled. “Brat.”

She brushed the tears away and looked at him. “I’m not a child. I’m a woman.”

His expression tightened as if he were in pain. “Believe me, I know.”

“Good. Just so we understand each other.”

Their gazes locked. It was like their very first hug, on the stairs in front of his
house. She wasn’t sure who moved forward first. She didn’t know if she reached for
him, or if he gathered her closer still. She only knew that suddenly he was holding
on to her as if he would never let her go. His mouth dropped to hers as she surged
toward him.

The kiss was like coming home. Familiar, welcoming, yet lighting a fire that burned
so hot, every cell in her body glowed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried
her fingers in his thick, short hair. His head tilted. She parted her lips, anticipating
the moment he would brand her with his tongue.

But he didn’t plunge inside right away. Instead, he circled her mouth, carefully seducing
every inch of sensitive skin, dipping in slightly, then withdrawing in a dance designed
to leave her trembling uncontrollably.

He supported her back with one hand and moved the other down her side to her hip,
then lower to the curve of her derriere. He squeezed gently, making her arch against
him. Long fingers kneaded sensitive flesh. Through the layers of her jeans and panties,
she felt his touch, the sweep of his thumb across the back of her thigh.

His tongue dipped into her mouth, distracting her momentarily. He tasted of masculine
temptation and incited the kind of passion that made lovers willing to risk everything.

The kiss was endless as he discovered her, then withdrew, inviting her to explore
him, to learn the secrets of what made him moan or stiffen or retaliate with a moist,
sweeping caress.

His hand moved up to her belly, then higher toward her breasts. She stilled, anticipating
those strong, skilled fingers touching sensitive skin.

He did not disappoint. First he stroked the underside of her curve, then he circled,
as if encroaching on sacred ground. Her breasts swelled with his touch, her nipples
tightened into twin points of aching sensation. When his thumb brushed against one
peak, she whimpered.

He broke the kiss. “If you knew how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“If you knew how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

His gaze met hers. Bright fire danced in his dilated pupils. “You could have said
something.”

She laughed softly, the sound turning into a moan as he rotated the tight bud between
his thumb and forefinger. “Right. The horses are healthy and exercised. By the way,
would you please touch my breasts?”

“I would have said yes.”

He lowered her back onto the mattress, then leaned over her. Instead of reaching for
the hem of her T-shirt, he bent down and pressed his mouth to her covered breast.
Through the layers of T-shirt and bra, she felt his hot breath, then the tantalizing
pressure of his teeth.

Fire burned a path from her nipple to the swelling heat between her thighs. Her toes
curled, her hips arched and she had to bite back a cry.

She clutched his head, holding him in place, urging him to do more and then more.
He fulfilled her request, shifting his attention from one breast to the other, teasing
them both until she couldn’t catch her breath. Then he placed a hand on her belly
and began to move it lower.

Long fingers reached for and found the tiny point of her pleasure. He rubbed the spot,
pressing so she could feel him through the thick fabric of her jeans. Her head tossed
from side to side. It wasn’t enough.

As if reading her mind, he undid the button, then lowered the zipper. Still nibbling
on her taut breasts, he inched under her panties, searching for, then finding, the
waiting heat between her legs.

When bare fingers met damp desire, she jumped and clutched at the bedspread. He raised
his head and looked at her. “You want me,” he said, his voice thick with equal parts
passion and wonder.

“What did you think?” she asked.

He smiled. “I’m not sure.” He rubbed her, then dipped lower. “Wet,” he murmured. “I
never thought—”

She didn’t get to hear what he thought. He leaned down and kissed her, plunging inside
her mouth at the same time he began rubbing over and around the place designed for
her pleasure.

He moved back and forth, exploring slick flesh, learning her secrets, all the while
kissing her into mindlessness. She writhed on the bed, finally pushing her jeans and
panties off her hips and kicking them to the floor.

“Better,” he murmured against her mouth. “Spread your legs.”

She did as he requested. He moved his hand lower and traced the entrance to her feminine
place. A shudder rippled through her.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Want it. Want me.”

“I do, Brady. I want you.”

Now it was his turn to shudder. He brought his fingers back to the pleasure place
and stroked it. Her breath caught and she found herself moving faster and higher.
In some distant part of her brain she was aware that he was watching her, watching
the feelings drifting across her face, noting the flush she could feel spreading up
her neck to her cheeks.

Then she didn’t care. Everything in the universe focused on that tiny place on her
body, on the steady cadence of his fingers, on the way he urged her higher, to give
it all to him. Her blood raced faster, her head tilted back. She clutched at the bedspread
and dug her heels into the mattress.

“Now,” he whispered, and in that last moment of coherence, she wondered how he knew.

She disappeared for a heartbeat, suspended in another dimension. His fingers continued
to circle around, then the feeling exploded and she returned to a symphony of pleasure-filled
release. She called his name in a hoarse voice she didn’t recognize and clutched at
him when he finally held her close.

He stroked her hair until her breathing and her heart rate returned to normal, then
smiled when she asked why he had all his clothes on.

“You’re still dressed,” he said, fingering the hem of her T-shirt.

“Only part of me.”

“That’s true. The interesting bits have been exposed.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Are you going to cooperate, or do I have to force you?” she asked, wondering when
in the past lovemaking had ever been this much fun. Those two young men in college
had both been so intense and she’d been so nervous, there hadn’t been room for laughter.

“Force me?” He seemed to consider that option. “I think I like it.”

“I thought you might.”

She pushed at his shoulder until he stretched out on his back. While his hands stroked
her legs and bare buttocks, she busied herself with his shirt. When it was unbuttoned,
she pushed the edges back and exposed the well-muscled expanse of his chest.

Years of working outdoors had left him tanned and fit. Various scars showed that his
life had occasionally flirted with danger. She traced the random patterns of the scars
first with her fingers, and then with her tongue.

He tasted salty, yet faintly sweet. The combined flavor was addictive, and she suspected
she could feast on it for the rest of her life and never have enough.

A narrow ribbon of dark hair began at his waist. She touched the exposed inch or so,
then reached for his belt buckle. As she worked the metal clasp, he half sat up and
pulled off his shirt. Before she reached for his button fly, he tugged at her T-shirt.

“I want to see you,” he said.

She pulled the shirt off in one movement, then sat back on her knees while he unfastened
her bra. The undergarment fell away, exposing her breasts. He stared reverently, then
cupped them. Fire flickered in her belly, banked ashes flaring once again to life.

This time he was the one to quickly unfasten, then kick off his jeans and briefs.
He urged her to stretch out on top of him, long legs tangling, bodies rubbing, heat
flaring at all points of contact.

When he rolled her onto her back and knelt between her thighs, she smiled at him.
Whatever their past or their future, they would have this moment of belonging. This
was where they were destined to be—joined as one.

He entered her slowly, easing into her tight, waiting heat. The cords in his neck
bulged and his muscles tensed in both pleasure and restraint. He cupped her breasts,
teasing her nipples until she found herself beginning the journey again.

He withdrew only to enter her, deeper, harder, faster, pushing her higher. She surged
with him, gripping his hips to express what her lack of breath wouldn’t let her say.
How much she wanted him. How much she needed him.

And when his body paused on the brink of completion and she found herself soaring
with him, she managed to find her voice long enough to whisper how very much she loved
him.

Brady lay in the warm bed and listened to the sounds from the shower. A quick glance
toward the window showed him it was barely dawn. After last night he supposed he should
be tired. He and Randi hadn’t slept much. They’d turned to each other again and again,
making love, exploring, touching, holding as if this was to be the best time they
would ever have.

Or the last.

He pulled her pillow over and slid it behind his back as he sat up. Was it their last
time? He didn’t have an answer. In the magical moments of her release, she’d whispered
that she loved him. He wanted to believe she told the truth. He wanted to say the
words himself. But he wasn’t sure. Was it him, or the danger of the moment? Had they
joined together because their hearts and bodies could no longer deny intense feelings,
or were they reacting?

She’d turned the shower off. He stared expectantly at the door, picturing her all
damp and pink, wondering how he could want her again so quickly. He wouldn’t have
thought his body capable of so much passion. Certainly Alicia had never inspired him
to such a level of performance.

She hadn’t inspired him to love, either. Looking back, comparing what he’d felt for
his former fiancée to what he felt for Randi, he realized if this was love, the emotion
was new to his life. With Alicia, he’d obsessed. With Randi, he wanted to belong.
With Alicia, he’d experienced passion and pleasure, even some fun times. With Randi,
he felt the connection down to his soul, as if by being together, they’d bonded on
a cellular level. Whatever happened in the future, he would not be able to move on
easily. She would always be a part of him.

The bathroom door opened and she stepped out into the bedroom. As he’d pictured, she
was damp and glowing. She’d wrapped her long hair in a towel piled on her head. Another
barely covered her torso. Long pale legs tempted him, and it was all he could do not
to throw back the sheets and invite her into bed. But the worry in her eyes made him
ignore the throbbing desire between his thighs.

“Good morning,” he said, holding out a hand.

She crossed to him and sank next to him on the bed, then squeezed his fingers. “You’re
smiling,” she said. “Good. I was terrified you would have second thoughts.”

“About being with you?”

She nodded.

“Never.” He touched her face, then her shoulder. “Never,” he repeated. “And you?”

She closed her eyes. “Last night was the most perfect experience of my life.” She
looked at him and blushed. “I hope you don’t think I usually behave like that.”

He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “Only with me, lover. Only with
me.”

She pulled the towel from her hair and began to finger-comb the wet, tangled strands.
“The shower isn’t very modern, but it works and there seems to be plenty of hot water.”

He waited, knowing she didn’t really want to talk about the shower.

She sucked in a breath. “Okay, the thing is, I’ve been thinking. It’s time for me
to go back to Grand Springs.”

As the knife that was her words sliced through him, he hung on to the fact she’d said
Grand Springs instead of “home.”

“Today?” he asked, hoping she couldn’t see how she’d hurt him. He knew what would
happen when she returned to that place. She had a life waiting there, a family. It
might not be home right now, but it had been and it soon would be again. He would
lose her forever. But hadn’t he always known that was a possibility?

She nodded. “The sooner I go back, the better. I want to talk to the police and tell
them what happened. They might not believe me, but I have to try. Plus, I’ve got a
bunch of family stuff to deal with. My brother, my mom.” She wrinkled her nose. “Hal.”

He dropped his hands to the bed and curled his fingers toward his palms. By squeezing
his fists very tight, he forced himself to ignore the sensation of his life’s blood
seeping away. How was he supposed to survive without her? Why hadn’t he known losing
her would hurt this much?

She gave him a faint smile. “You’ll probably be glad to get rid of me.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Really?” She bit her lower lip. “I’m glad, because I was wondering…” Her voice trailed
off.

He watched her, memorizing the features of her face, wondering when she’d become so
important to him. Being with her was all he wanted. He didn’t care about who she was
or what she’d done in the past. Yet he couldn’t tell her that. Not now. Not when she
was ready to return to the place she belonged.

“Would you come with me?” she asked in a rush. “I know it’s tacky to ask you, and
I wouldn’t except I’m a complete wimp and I don’t want to be alone. It would just
be for a couple of days. You know, getting to Grand Springs, then seeing me through
everything. It would be boring and awful and I have no right to expect—”

“Yes,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll come with you and stay as long as you want.”

Her bright smile eased a little of his pain. “Are you sure?”

“I’m happy to do it, Randi.” He would do anything to stay with her a few more days.
Anything to put off the inevitable.

She flung herself at him and he hauled her close. As his mouth descended to hers and
she parted her lips to accept him, he wondered how many more times they would be together.
In the silence of the morning he heard a faint ticking sound, as if the best part
of his life was slowly slipping away.

* * *

“You’ve caused more than a little trouble, young lady.”

Randi squirmed on her seat and resisted the urge to duck her head. She felt as if
she’d been brought before the principal for speaking out of turn in class. But the
middle-aged man in front of her wasn’t the principal. Frank Sanderson was Grand Springs’
chief of police. He stared at her with piercing brown eyes.

Brady dropped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Randi
had no way of knowing about the mayor’s murder when she left town three-and-a-half
months ago.”

The chief of police’s expression didn’t soften. “You could have called.”

He sounded like a scorned suitor. If she hadn’t been so nervous, she would have laughed.
“I didn’t think anyone would listen.”

“I’m listening now.” Sanderson leaned forward in his chair. “Start at the beginning.
Don’t leave anything out. It’s important.”

Randi sucked in a deep breath and recounted the events of her almost-wedding day.
When she mentioned the two men talking, Sanderson started taking notes.

“What did they say? Be as exact as you can.”

She closed her eyes and tried to put herself back in the meeting room. She’d been
anxious to get away before anyone realized she was missing. She inhaled, trying to
recall the smell of coffee.

There was the clink of the carafe against a mug, muffled voices, then, “Jo will take
care of the old broad. That’s her specialty.”

“Dammit!”

Randi jumped and opened her eyes. Sanderson grimaced. “Jo’s a woman. So that confirms
it. Olivia Stuart’s killer
was
a woman.”

Randi glanced at Brady. He shrugged, obviously as confused as she was. Sanderson caught
the look. “It’s a long story. All we know for certain was that someone gave Olivia
a shot of a drug whose effects simulated a heart attack. We had suspected that the
killer might be a woman. Son of a bitch.” He picked up the phone and punched in a
few numbers, then quickly recounted what he’d just been told. When he hung up, he
took Randi through the rest of the events of that day.

A half hour later Sanderson was satisfied that he’d gotten everything he needed. “You’re
free to go,” he said.

Randi stared at him. “What about the men after me?”

“I’ll arrange to leak this information to the media. Once word is out that you’ve
told us everything you know, you should be safe. But you might want to stay out of
sight for a couple of days. Your family will take you in?”

She nodded, a little stunned by the course of events. “My mother and my brother.”

“Either would be fine. I wouldn’t worry, Ms. Howell.”

They said their goodbyes and were shown out of his office.

Once in the hallway, Randi stared at Brady. “I’m in shock.”

“Me, too. I figured what you’d heard had to be important, but I never thought it was
part of a murder investigation.”

“Do you think he’s right? About the men not having a reason to kill me now?”

Brady took her hand in his. “Yeah, I do. You’ll need to be careful for a few days,
but I think the danger is past. You’ve told the police what you know. You’re of no
use to them now.”

She shook her head, trying to shake off the surreal feeling. “I could have solved
all my problems by talking to them that first day,” she murmured. Then she realized
that wasn’t completely true. She wouldn’t have learned all she did on the road. She
wouldn’t have met Brady. She wouldn’t have fallen in love. Even knowing about the
terror she would have to live through, she wouldn’t go back and change anything.

“Now what?” Brady asked.

“I have to figure out what’s next.” Several uniformed officers walked past them and
entered the chief’s office.

“Let’s get out of here,” Brady said. “We can talk in the truck.”

He kept her hand in his as he led the way through the maze of desks and cubicles.
Before they reached the door, someone called her name.

“Miss Howell?”

She turned and saw a tall, lean blond man staring at her. His intense gaze was unnerving.
She instinctively inched closer to Brady. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but one of the officers mentioned you’d shown up at last.”
The man gave her a wry smile. “I was hoping you’d recognize me.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you.”

“I wasn’t invited to your wedding?”

Randi blushed. She had a bad feeling she was going to be talking about the wedding
for the next several weeks. Despite the passage of time, it seemed still to be fresh
in everyone’s mind.

“I’m not sure, Mr…?”

“Smith,” he said. “Martin Smith. I lost my memory the night of the massive storm.
A few people suggested I might have been a wedding guest. Hal doesn’t know me and
I was hoping you would.”

Randi shook her head. “Sorry, no.”

“Thanks.” He turned away. “Oh, welcome home.”

Home. This wasn’t home anymore, she thought as she and Brady stepped out of the police
station and onto the street. She glanced around at buildings she’d seen countless
times, and not one of them made her feel welcome.

She could picture individual streets in her mind, she knew the exact locations of
stores and restaurants. Grand Springs was familiar to her. And completely foreign.
There was nothing for her here. Not anymore. The town hadn’t changed—she had.

“How are you holding up?” Brady asked.

“I’ve been better.” When he stepped close, she allowed herself to lean on him. “My
head is spinning. The mayor was murdered, and I had one of the puzzle pieces in my
memory. That poor guy—Martin Smith. I was shot at, but until he can remember his past,
he’s lost his whole life. I can’t believe everything that’s happened while I’ve been
gone.”

“Sort of like missing a month of your favorite soap opera.”

She laughed. “Exactly.”

“What now?” he asked.

She wanted to find somewhere private and make love with him. She wanted to be in his
arms, joining with him the way they had so many times last night. She wanted to tell
him again that she loved him and hear him say the words back. She wanted to know that
she always had a place at his side.

But he hadn’t responded to her heartfelt confession, nor had he talked about the future.
She had a feeling that if she hadn’t asked him to spend some time with her, he would
have dropped her off and returned to the ranch without once looking back.

She’d worried that he would despise her once he knew the truth. Well, he knew it now
and he didn’t despise her. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to love her, either.

She squared her shoulders. Before she worried about her future—or lack of future—with
Brady, she had a few pieces of her past to deal with.

“You’re going to hate this,” she said. “But I have to talk to Hal.”

His dark eyes never wavered from her face. “No problem. If I don’t like the look of
him, am I allowed to beat him up?”

She laughed. “Yes. Please.”

* * *

Both men stared at the phone. On the fourth ring, the bald man picked it up. “Yes?”

“Randi Howell spoke to the police today. She told them everything. Perhaps you and
your associate didn’t understand that this was important?”

The bald man swallowed as his back began to prickle. The cold sweat crept down his
neck and around to his chest. “We nearly had her.”

“Nearly isn’t good enough. We’re very disappointed.”

Panic flared low in his belly. Dear God, they were going to die.

“Please take the next flight back,” the voice continued. “We’ll be waiting.” The line
went dead.

He slowly replaced the receiver.

“What?” the other man asked.

“As you’d expect. They want us to take the next flight back.”

“Forget that. I’m not going to let them put a bullet in my head just because the girl
got away. A friend of mine has an import company in Singapore. He wants me to come
work for him. Same sort of job, less trouble if you screw up. Interested?”

The bald man thought about the alternative. There was no way to fix this problem.
If the woman had spoken to the police, killing her now would accomplish nothing. He
could return as he’d been ordered, or he could make a run for it.

“I’m interested,” he said, picking up his small overnight case and wondering how many
movies they showed on a plane trip to the Far East.

* * *

Brady stirred his black coffee, then put the spoon down when he realized the action
betrayed his nervousness. He told himself to relax, that the outcome of Randi’s meeting
wasn’t his business. Yet he couldn’t convince himself of the lie. Of course it was
his business. Randi was meeting with Hal Stuart, her former fiancé.