Bind Me Close: 3 (Knights in Black Leather) (15 page)

“How could I not? After you’ve been so generous I’d be a
fool not to.”

She trailed a finger down his chest. “Watch me with another
man?”

He caught his expletive before it left his lips. “Is that
what you want?”

She stared at him. “Maybe.”

“Testing me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He narrowed his gaze on her, the expression making
him sinister.

She stepped backward. “We don’t know each other very well
and yet we’re doing the most intimate acts. As if we’ve known each other for
years.”

He caught her wrist and brought her flush against him.
“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Only if we can’t see eye-to-eye outside the bedroom.”

He nodded, not happy at this turn of conversation, but he
wanted her so badly he’d weather it. “Takes practice, all that eye-to-eye
agreement.”

She smiled hesitantly. “It does.”

He arched one brow. “And I like slow.”

She draped her arms around his broad shoulders. “I favor
that myself.”

“You bet your pretty ass you do.” Sinking his fingers into
the flesh of her derriere, he pulled her against his raging erection and kissed
her.

“One problem, Sheriff.”

“Hurry and tell me.”

She chastised him with a sidelong glance. “If I don’t eat
food soon I’m going to faint.”

He chuckled and grabbed her around the waist to take her
inside. “No fainting. You need your strength to make love to me.”

At the last few words he felt a ripple course through her
body. “To make certain I love you like you deserve.”

She didn’t look at him then but shyly pressed her head to
his shoulder. “Feed me, will you?”

“And then we’ll talk about what you saw and learned at the
MacRaes’ today.”
And why you want another man.

“I want to see the family Bible again. Now that I’ve seen pictures
and Wyatt MacRae’s sketches I feel I know my family better.”

“Sure enough. The family Bible you get!”

“And then you’ll take me to bed and make love to me one more
time?”

“Just once?” he asked, trying to be a good boy and not
demand she give him herself all night long.

“Right. I’m a working girl, you know.”

“Yeah, darlin’. I do know that. Come on, you get the plates
and utensils out and we’ll dig into these vittles.”

Then he’d keep her as long as he could. If he was lucky
maybe she’d forget she wanted to exhibit herself to him in front of another
man.

The one thing he couldn’t do, she craved.

He could he avoid it and keep her for himself?

The barbeque joint Giles took her to Tuesday night was just
outside of town in a rustic building that had once been a barn. Diners filled
all the other seats.

“This place is popular,” she said as Giles led her to the
rough-hewn table covered in butcher paper and pulled out her chair to seat her.

“Yes. Famous and infamous.”

“Why’s that?”

“The No Fork is the only part left of what was the biggest
cattle ranch in Bravado County. Once owned by the Benedicts too,” he told her
with pride.

“Oh, no.” She laughed. “More relatives?”

He nodded, his soft brown hair dipping over his brow, his
hazel eyes dancing. “My cousins. Not yours. My ancestor was, I’m sorry to say,
a cattle rustler.”

She winced, laughing. He was easy to be with. Kind and
jovial. The softer side of masculine, Giles Benedict could certainly appeal to
her as a date. She criticized herself for that. But last night as she and Wade
had eaten dinner he had become distant, morose. Why that had happened she had
only a small, nasty idea. He hadn’t liked her intimate revelations.

Then things had gotten worse after he called her early that
morning and asked her to come for dinner again.

“I’m sorry, Wade. I have another engagement.”

The silence on the other end of the line had sounded like a
bomb.

“I see,” he’d said at last, bitterness lacing his words.
“Well, I’ll be sure to put in my bid earlier.”

“Wade, don’t be like that. I am only being neighborly and—”

“Who is it?” When she hadn’t answered he’d cursed and hung
up. In a second he’d called back. “Sorry, Willow. Being an ass. See you
Wednesday night for dinner?”

His proprietary nature had riled her. “I’m working Wednesday
night. Thanks for the offer.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t you,” she’d said, and rang off.

All day she’d felt lost, wondering if she had ended her
relationship with Wade and hoped to god she hadn’t. That question nibbled at
her good spirits even now. Wade was controlling, demanding. A part of her liked
that he took the lead. He’d been kind, never abusive. But he had asked for
honesty and she’d given it. If then, he didn’t like what he heard and went off
in a huff, that was his problem. This morning she had snapped back. Too bad for
him.

How is it you could crawl into bed with men, they could
invite you to bare all, literally and figuratively, and then slam a door in
your face?

Primal possession was an instinct men often used to poor
advantage.

And here with Giles she was enjoying herself. Not as a
reaction to Wade’s chilly behavior. But as a real appreciation for the kind
doctor.
And if I am now interested in the doctor? My life and my hormones
are my own to do with as I damn well please!

She trained her attention on him as he told her more about
his family.

“I know. Good news is he went straight eventually and so did
his descendants. Made millions over the last century until one man gambled away
the family fortune. Now that man’s sons, the latest Benedicts, Burt and Rance,
decided to sell off the land when their dad died. But they kept the barn. One
man cooks and the other does the operation. Today the BBQ is famous. You can
see the awards on the walls.”

“They’re famous. Great. I’m hungry,” Willow said, glad to be
so at ease with Giles after all the time she’d spent with Wade.

The waitress appeared and handed over big slabs of wood
inset with menus. Willow scanned it. The choices were few. That didn’t matter
because the aromas wafting around her were rich and enticing but the hair on
her arms prickled. She looked up at the very pretty brunette who had a very
ugly frown on her face.

“What’ll you have for starters, Willow?” Giles asked,
putting aside his menu and seemingly unaware of the young woman’s glare at her.

“Beer, draft.” She smiled at him.

“Great. Make that two with lime, Leanne.”

“Sure,” the waitress bit off with a snarl. “Anything else I
can get you? Have lots here that’s really good. Especially for someone who’s
never been.”

Giles examined her for a long second before he said, “That’s
true. Willow Turner, this is Leanne Wainwright. Leanne obviously knows you’re
new to us. Willow is here to do family research.”

“Is that so? Thought it was something else,” she said, never
taking her eyes from Willow’s. “But I hear you like Bravado just fine.”

“You’ve heard correctly.” Willow nodded, her tone more
mellow than her sharp irritation at the woman’s puzzling attitude. “It’s a
lovely little town.”

“Staying on, are you?”

With Jed’s discussion of an opening at the high school
Willow had considered applying for it. Aside from the idea of having Skye near
she wanted Wade near her. His little caresses and kisses, his endearments had
worked their way into her blood. She wanted to be rational about her
enchantment with him but what was a girl to do with all that affection? She’d
never had so much. But this woman, whoever she was and whatever her beef with
Willow, was a nosy little bugger and Willow intended to close her out of this
conversation. For spite Willow bit back, “If you heard that too, Leanne, then
your source is very ill-informed.”

Leanne lost the predatory look in her eyes. “I’ll tell him.”

Would Wade tell her? Not Jed, surely. Why would Wade
indicate that she might stay? To this woman? Had she been Wade’s ‘regular’?
Hell.

“Enough, Leanne.” Giles intervened in the tense silence.
“We’ll look at the menu awhile. I’ll give you the high sign when we’re ready to
order.”

Leanne, hand on her hip, stared at him for a long minute
then sashayed off.

“I assume you have the menu memorized,” Willow teased him,
wishing to avoid any discussion of the rude waitress. Maybe she just disliked
strangers in her town. It happened.

“Not hard to do.” He grinned.

“How are the baby back ribs?”

“Finger-licking good. The chicken wings. The corn on the
cob. The beans. Shall I order for us?”

She put down her menu. “Please.”

“One thing you have to know is that the name of the
restaurant means something.”

Willow looked at him, feigning horror. “Oh no. What?”

“It’s how we eat here.”

Willow chuckled. “No fork? You’re kidding.”

“No knives either.”

“Oh, come on! Tell me you don’t eat the charro beans with a
fork?”

“Spoons.”

“And the coleslaw?”

“Same.”

She winced. “Messy.”

“That’s the whole idea. To get down and dirty with the food.
Leanne should be back with the complimentary bibs for us.”

“Hope she doesn’t have to tie mine on. She’ll strangle me.”

“She’s got a burr up her ass but she’ll calm herself. She’s
wise. But now we’re here to have fun and trust me, the food’s worth the mess.”

Willow grinned. “How often do you have to go home and shower
after a night of fine dining?”

“Never. And I’d rather go dancing. Do you like to dance?”
His eyes lit up.

“Yep. And I don’t believe in sitting any of them out.”

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “My kind
of woman.”

Willow glanced at his hand. With elegant fingers, he had a
light touch. The caring hands of a physician. She let him linger and withdraw
in his own time. Her eyes met his and in the depths there was a spark of
interest. Sexual interest. Emotional interest. A man who would romance her
before he’d try to get her into bed? She certainly thought so. There was charm
to that kind of man as well as the more aggressive approach of one like Sheriff
Wade Saxon.

Giles leaned back to let Leanne set their beers before them.
Huge mugs, the glasses were frosty, brimming with suds. Leanne let Willow’s
slosh over the rim.

“Get a few more napkins, will you please, Leanne?” Giles
asked with a no-nonsense tone.

Leanne glared at him.

“Quickly. Willow’s beer is going to drip into her lap. But
then,” he said with his nostrils flaring, “you knew it would.”

“Fine.” She waltzed away.

“She has something stuck in her craw,” he said, his gaze
following the woman as she sashayed to her station and marched back with a pile
of napkins. When she stood before them and plunked them in front of Willow,
Giles said, “Stop this. I’ll ask for a different table. Or maybe I’ll go back
to the bar, find Burt and let him in on what a witch you are tonight.”

Leanne stiffened at the name of one of the owners. “No need
for that.”

“I’m glad. Want to apologize to Miz Turner?”

Leanne trained her hard baby blues on Willow. “Not really.
But I’ll smile, okay?” Then she threw Willow a strained expression.

“Gee,” Willow said as Leanne trotted off, “I should check in
the mirror for signs I’m turning to stone. What is her problem?”

She asked the question lightly but the wince on Giles’ face
told her he knew the answer. Would he tell her? “Okay. Lay it on me.”

“The rumor mill is working where you’re concerned.”

Willow arched both brows.
Oh, boy. What’s the worst folks
could say?

“Lots of people saw you driving Wade Saxon’s car. And he
gives it—”

“To no one,” she finished with him. “He was kind. My rental
was totaled. What’s the big deal about that?”

Giles tipped his head toward Leanne serving at another
table. “Leanne and Wade have been known to be an item.”

“I see.” Confirmation. So Leanne was Wade’s style? Sassy and
vengeful.

“And he’s never let Leanne drive one of his cars.”

“Does she need one?”

“Not that I’ve ever known.” Giles took Willow’s hand again,
this time in a comforting caress. “Forget her. She’ll be fine now. This is her
main job and she’s one of the best waitresses here. But Burt Benedict is no one
to mess with. He’d have her out the door before she could shed a tear.”

Willow shifted, uneasy that this woman who liked her job and
was good at it might risk it by being rude to a customer who she knew had
received a favor from the man with whom she was “an item”.

And just what does that make me? To Wade, am I a new
item? An addition to his menu? A tidbit he samples? Or…worse. Am I the new
available woman in town who has been romanced into the bed of the first man
I’ve met?

Willow froze, her body awash in a chilling idea. Everyone
had been telling her about the lack of women in this county. How females were
needed, coveted. Drawn into town to provide…what? Fun, friendship, love, sex
with the men who abounded here. Was every woman prey to the attractive men who
seemed to seep out of the woodwork everywhere she went?

And if the men were so plentiful, and the women so scarce,
why was someone like Leanne Wainwright still single? Okay, so perhaps she was
such an immature little bitch 24/7 that no man wanted her for the long haul. Or
maybe she didn’t want to get hitched to one man’s wagon. Or did she want just
one man—Wade—and she just couldn’t land him?

“Forget about Leanne.”

Giles’ order flicked her back to where she was and the nice
guy she was with.

“I will.”

“How did your research go today? You were with Samantha,
weren’t you?”

She nodded, grateful for the new topic, her favorite one. “I
was. Wonderful day. Got lots of work done. The number of family letters she and
Case have is astonishing. I wouldn’t have thought there would be so many, what
with the Turners and the MacRaes living here in the same county.”

“You have to remember that a lot of them didn’t speak to
each other for years. Fancy and her brother Jeremiah and her sister Collette
never reconciled. So many of the other relatives were angry at each other for
Jeremiah’s stubbornness and prejudice against Fancy and Blade that they didn’t
speak either. The only way they communicated was to write each other nasty
letters.”

“Why do it at all?”

“Amen. Guess they had to get their anger out.”

“I guess. But I’m shocked too that they kept the letters.”

“I know. It’s as if they wanted to create a record of how
they hated each other.”

“And I think they even fought over it. There was a letter
from Jeremiah to Reg Saxon in which he talked about coming over with his
friends and taking ‘that woman out of the house and riding her back to the
reservation where she belonged’.”

Giles stared at her. “You don’t know…”

“What?”

“I guess you didn’t ask Sam about that passage?”

“No. I was trying to absorb all of it and reading quickly.
What should I know about that letter?”

“That woman he wrote about wasn’t Fancy.”

“No? Well, who then?”

“It was Willow Talks, Bull Elk’s young sister. And I know
because my great-grandfather Cyrus Benedict wanted to marry her. And so did Reg
Saxon’s little brother Wade.”

Willow sat straight up. “I don’t know anything about Bull Elk’s
little sister other than she helped Fancy escape the tribe after he died.”

Giles nodded. “Willow Talks was Fancy’s best friend and when
the tribe realized that she had helped Fancy they made life hard for her. She
left, came to live with Fancy and the MacRaes and evidently fell in love with
two men.”

Willow dropped her mouth open. “Your great-grandfather and—”

“Right. And Reg Saxon’s little brother Wade.”

Ghosts of her ancestors passed around her, gray shades
murmuring of old sorrows. She shivered in their shadow. “What happened?”

“She returned to the tribe, never married either man. Each
man blamed the other.”

“Blade wrote in his diary only that his Aunt Willow was a
famous medicine woman. He remembered how she would come at night to visit them
now and then but he doesn’t say much else.”

“Cyrus had a picture taken of her. I’d like to show you.
It’s old. Very fragile. But you will like it.” His eyes faceted into a spectrum
of greens and browns. “She was quite beautiful.”