Bright Eyes (21 page)

He drew his lips from hers. In a dizzying rush, she felt him move with her. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, Zeke standing between her parted legs. Breathing rapidly and whispering nonsensically, he rained kisses over her hair and face, his hands lightly caressing her bare thighs, his body held slightly apart from hers. Natalie blinked back to awareness and realized that he was trying to slow things down.

She became lost in his fabulous blue eyes.
Zeke.
He was her everything in that moment. She needed him, yes. But she loved him even more for wanting to slow the pace and make this special for her. Following his example, she cupped his dark face between her hands and trailed light kisses over his lean cheeks, soothing him, pulling him back.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you right now,” he whispered raggedly. “But I want this to be perfect, something that you’ll remember.”

He couldn’t have said anything that meant more to her. She was accustomed to a man who thought only of his own pleasure. She could feel the yearning that coursed through his large frame, sense that he rode a dangerous edge. That told her more than he could know.

“How about a drink?” he asked out of the blue.

“Sure,” she managed to push out through kiss-swollen lips.

She no sooner spoke than he slipped an arm under her knees, caught her around the back, and swept her up against his chest. She wished that he’d carry her straight to his bed, but instead, he carried her to the family room, carefully deposited her on a stool, and asked, “What’s your pleasure?”

Her imagination ran away with her. Sex on top of the bar sounded fantastic at that moment.

“Surprise me,” she said, using the husky, come-hither voice she’d perfected for the club.

He gave her a long, thoughtful look and mixed her a sloe gin tonic. “Why did you choose sloe gin?” she couldn’t resist asking.

He flashed a lazy grin. “It’s supposed to get you in the mood.”

She squirmed on the bar stool, crossed her legs, and then quickly uncrossed them because the pressure at certain points was more than she could handle. “If this is supposed to get me in the mood, what was that in the kitchen?”

“Just the icebreaker, sweetie. The main course is yet to come.”

What ice? She’d never wanted anyone the way she wanted him—right
now
. She curled her hand around the tumbler that he slid across the bar, shifted on the bar stool, set her feet on the floor, and gave him her most seductive smile. Switching into performance mode, she walked toward the archway to the hall, swinging her hips as seductively as she knew how. When she reached her destination, she turned, lifted her glass, and flashed him a smile that she hoped would send an unmistakable message.

“I’m ready for the main course now, Zeke.”

As she turned to lead the way, he made it across the room with Olympic speed. “I wanted to make this romantic for you.”

Any more romantic, and she was going to rape him. She reached up, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and led him down the hall to the bedroom, both of their drinks sloshing over the edges of their glasses. Natalie didn’t care. It wasn’t her carpet. And at the moment, she wouldn’t have cared if it had been.

She pulled him over to the bed, set her glass on the floor where his blasted nightstand should have been, turned, relieved him of his tumbler and placed it beside hers. With tense fingers, she began unbuttoning his shirt and unfastening his belt buckle. When she had him satisfactorily undone, she placed her hands against his broad chest and shoved with all her might. He landed on the mattress with a
harrumph
that made her grin. She hiked her up her skirt and followed him down, bracketing his hips with her thighs.

“What about foreplay?” he asked raggedly.

“That was last night.” She bent down and began planting kisses on his face and bare chest. “I want you.
Now.
I haven’t had sex in three years, and it was lousy even then.”

Zeke lay there for a moment, enjoying the feel of her warm, moist lips trailing over his skin. Her hair tickled his chest—light, silken curls still warm from her body that sent electrical zings coursing through him. Her fingertips danced over his shoulders, pushing back his shirt, igniting him with needs he couldn’t deny or resist. Without conscious thought, he whipped up from the bed, caught her around the waist, and rolled with her to get on top. As he paused to look into her brown eyes, which shimmered in the moonlight coming through the window, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the love of his life.

He gently reached up and took hold of the straps of her dress, slipping them down over her slender shoulders. Natalie arched her back and reached behind to pull down the zipper, her gaze fixed on his. He smiled, tugged the dress down to below her hips, and bent to kiss the upper swells of her breasts. She trembled when he nibbled lightly at the lace cups of her bra.

Natalie wished that her nipples were bare.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Looking into his eyes now, she believed he meant it. He made her feel as if she were the center of his universe, more important, even, than breathing. She’d never imagined a man looking at her this way, never even thought it was possible.

“Oh, Zeke.”

“I love you,” he professed again, his voice husky with emotion. “I don’t know how it happened. I only know it did.”

She understood. Loving him had crept up on her, too. She wasn’t sure exactly when. That first day, when he’d stood in her yard, boots spread and arms akimbo, his eyes flashing with anger? Or later when they’d stood in his driveway, nose to nose? Or maybe it had been when Chad had come to her, holding her grandma Westfield’s earrings on his palm, his eyes beaming with pride because he’d been able to buy them back for her, compliments of Zeke Coulter.

“Oh, Zeke, I love you, too. I love you so much.”

He slid his hands up her rib cage and unfastened her bra with a masterful flick of his fingertips. Natalie felt her fullness exposed, the elastic and lace springing away, only to be replaced by Zeke’s warm, hard hands. He caught her nipples gently between his thumbs and fingers. One roll, and she gasped, arching up off the bed, totally lost to the sensation. He was there like a wall above her, his hardness encased in denim, his chest like white-hot fire against her bare skin, the coarseness of his chest hair abrading her nerve endings.

“Zeke!” she moaned breathlessly. “Kiss me there.
Please.
”

Zeke didn’t want this to be over before it started. He wanted to make her reach heights that she’d never experienced. Instead of taking her breasts into his mouth, he trailed kisses around her aureoles, glorying in the fact that her nipples went rock hard. As she moved beneath him, feverish for what he wouldn’t give her, he lightly flicked their throbbing tips with his tongue and shifted his weight to lie beside her. Using one hand, he trailed his fingertips in a featherlight path from her navel to her pelvis.

Hooking his thumb under the elastic of her panties, he jerked them and her dress down to below her knees with one motion. She lifted her hips to accommodate him, and with a swish, most of her clothing fell to the floor. Only her bra remained, still caught beneath her, the trailing ends winging out like parenthetic marks, drawing his gaze back to her generous breasts.

He couldn’t resist those dark, erect nipples, which pleaded so sweetly for attention. He curled his tongue around one and gently teased the other with his fingers, glorying as she moaned in delight and jerked at every sensation. She began rotating her hips in unmistakable invitation. He met her thrusts with his hand, dipping a finger into the wet, slick heat of her. She gasped and froze, her lips parted in breathless anticipation. He laved her with moisture and lightly stroked her, watching her face as she climaxed.

Afterward she grasped his neck with a quivering arm and tugged him toward her. “I want you inside of me.”

He was beyond resisting her any longer. He sprang from the bed, shed his clothes as fast as was humanly possible, and went to the bathroom where he’d left the condoms he’d bought. After taking care of matters, he returned to the bed. Bracing his arms to catch himself, he fell back over her and situated himself between her thighs.

As he pushed slowly into her, he almost lost it. She was so wet and warm and ready.
Dear God.
She felt good. A sudden tightness knotted his lower abdomen, and pain radiated out from there, snapping his whole body taut. He wanted to hold back, to make this last, but it was pure hell. Being sheathed in her hot, moist softness, feeling her muscles convulsing around him, he couldn’t control the urges of his body any longer.

With rapid thrusts of his hips, he drove into her. She quickly learned his rhythm and met him, thrust for thrust, her legs locked around his thighs.
Faster and deeper.
He felt her body jerk slightly, and then her inner walls started to spasm. He went into overdrive, his groin exploding with sensation. She sobbed and held on to him, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. They peaked together, a frenzied, desperate completion that left them both drained.

Afterward, he collapsed against her, trying to support his weight to keep from crushing her.

“Oh, Zeke,” she said tremulously.

He rolled to one side and gathered her into his arms, kissing her hair, lightly stroking her damp skin.

“That was lovely,” she whispered.

He tucked in his chin to narrow an eye at her. “Lovely, hell. That was fabulous, sweetheart.”

She giggled weakly and placed a small hand over his pounding heart. Zeke turned his cheek against her hair, feeling sated and absolutely content. “Give me five, and we’ll go again.”

“Five minutes?” she asked incredulously.

“You got a problem with that?”

She nipped the underside of his jaw and turned to lie facing him, her breasts like firebrands where they touched his chest. Cupping a hand over his jaw, she smiled beatifically. “I’m so happy, Zeke. I never want this moment to end.”

He kissed the tip of her elegant nose. “The moment will pass, but the feeling never will.”

They rested then, limbs intertwined, heartbeats slowing to a more normal pace. He heard her stomach growl and opened one eye. “Sweetheart, are you hungry?”

“I usually have some yogurt when I get home. I passed tonight.”

“Did you eat dinner at the club?”

“Good grief, no. I’d get fat if I did that every night.”

He slapped her bottom. “Up.”

“I thought we were going to make love again.”

“Nourishment first, fun later. You worked your little tail off all day and put in a full shift tonight. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Zeke lent her a shirt, then led her to the kitchen. When she offered to help as he collected the ingredients for an omelet from the fridge, he handed her a wooden spoon, bent to kiss her, and said, “Sing to me.”

“That wouldn’t be a help.”

“I don’t want my teeth to bounce off these eggs.”

She sighed in exasperation. “I’m not
that
bad a cook. Gramps was only teasing when he said that.”

Zeke doubted it. “Sing me ‘Forever and for Always,’ ” he coaxed.

She tapped her chin with the spoon and dimpled a cheek. “I’d feel silly.”

Zeke began singing the words himself. That got her started, and once she got into the song, nature took over. She did what she’d been born to do while he manned the stove.

She looked so adorable, wearing nothing but his shirt, with her hair going every which way and her lips swollen from lovemaking, that he almost turned off the burner to carry her back to bed. He resisted the urge, wanting to get some food into her first.

Later, after she ate her omelet, they returned to the bedroom. The second time was even better than the first, in Zeke’s estimation. He was able to go more slowly, savoring every sweet inch of her and bringing her to climax several times before he reached completion himself.

Afterward they slept for a while, clasped in each other’s arms. Then he slipped from bed, threw on his clothes, gently nudged her awake, helped her to dress, and walked her home. Once at her back door, he kissed her good night, a long, lingering kiss filled with promise.

“Oh, Zeke, I don’t want to go in.”

One arm locked around her, he cupped his other hand over her bottom and swayed with her. “I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to let you. But it’ll be daylight soon. We don’t want the kids to see you sneaking home.”

She clung to his neck. “It’s silly, I guess. But I feel like we’ll only get this one night, that something will happen to ruin this for me.”

Zeke tightened his arms around her. “No way, lady. We’re going to have a million nights just like this one. That’s a promise.”

He kissed her forehead, released her, and backed away. “Go!” he called softly. “I want to see you safely inside.”

She hurried up the steps. After opening the door, she turned to give him one last look, her heart shining in her eyes. With a saucy smile, she said, “Be sure to look in that drugstore sack before you throw it away.”

“What’s in there besides condoms?”

She giggled. “That’s a question.”

A feeling of warmth moved through Zeke. “You gave me one of your songs? I thought you had forgotten.”

“When it comes to my music, I have a mind like a steel trap.”

He smiled. “I can’t wait to look it over.”

“If you don’t like it,” she qualified, “it’s no big deal. I’m not sensitive.”

“Oh, I’ll like it,” he assured her.

She ran her gaze slowly over him. “Later, cowboy. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Zeke was banking on it.

Chapter Eleven

T
he following morning, a frantic pounding on Natalie’s bedroom door interrupted her sleep. She jerked erect, blinked bewilderedly, and came instantly awake, thinking that something was wrong with one of the kids. “Come in!”

The portal opened. Her kimono hanging crooked from her shoulders, the sash barely knotted, Valerie stood in the doorway. “The
cops,”
she croaked, her eyes as round as nickels. “They’re at the front door, asking for you.”

“Who?”

“The
cops
. Holy Moses, Nattie, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Natalie grabbed her robe and finger combed her hair as she hurried downstairs with Valerie at her heels. “Don’t be silly.”

“They look grim,” Valerie whispered. “Something’s really wrong.”

When Natalie entered the living room, she saw two police officers framed in the open doorway. Valerie had called it right. They stood on the front porch like navy bookends, not returning her smile as she moved toward them. She straightened her shoulders, trying to look innocent, which struck her as being the greatest absurdity of all. She hadn’t done anything. Right? Then a horrible thought hit her. If Robert had noticed the missing goblets, he would know who took them. What if he had pressed charges against her?

“Good morning, Officers. My sister says you want to speak to me?”

One policeman flashed his credentials. “Are you Natalie Patterson?”

“Yes.”

“Formerly Mrs. Robert Patterson?”

“Yes.” Natalie didn’t like the way the two men looked at her—as if she’d committed a heinous crime. “Did I forget to pay a parking ticket or something?”

“Something far more serious than that, I’m afraid,” the tall, thin officer said. “Brace yourself for sad news. Mr. Patterson was found dead in his garage at around midnight. Can you get dressed and come down to the station with us for a while? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

All the blood rushed from Natalie’s head, and black spots danced in front of her eyes. She heard Valerie bleat in horror behind her.

“What?”
Her body going watery with shock, Natalie held up a hand. “Would you—” She gulped and grabbed for breath. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Patterson was found dead in his garage last night,” the younger, stockier policeman repeated.

“Oh, my God,” Natalie whispered. “Oh, my
God.”
She turned to see Chad standing behind Valerie in the archway. The boy had turned as white as milk.

“Mom?” Chad said, his voice quivering.

Natalie sent a smoldering look at the policemen. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes. My son needs me.”

“Mom?” Chad said again. “Dad’s
dead
? How can he be dead?”

Natalie ran to catch her son in her arms. Over the top of his head, she met Valerie’s gaze. “Call Mom. Tell her I need her to come as quickly as she can.” As Valerie wheeled to run to the phone, Natalie began rocking her sobbing child. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. You’re okay.”

From that moment forward, Natalie felt trapped in a fog. Nothing seemed real. She couldn’t make her brain function properly. This couldn’t be happening.

Zeke had just poured a second cup of coffee when his phone jangled. He caught it on the third ring. A hysterical female voice came over the line. For a moment, he thought it was Natalie. Then he determined that it was her sister.

“Valerie, slow down. I can’t make heads or tails of anything you’re saying.”

Valerie’s breath hitched and spewed wetly into the receiver, nearly blasting out his eardrum. “Robert—is—
dead.
Is that slow enough for you? The cops are here, and they’re taking Nattie away.”

“What?”

“I think someone murdered the son of a bitch,” Valerie whispered. “Oh,
God,
someone killed him, sure as shit, and they think Natalie did it.”

Zeke slapped down the phone and left the house at a dead run. Moments later when he reached the Westfield yard, he saw that there was indeed a cop car parked in the drive. He circled around to let himself in the kitchen door.

“Not without a lawyer, she ain’t answerin’ no questions,” Gramps was yelling. “You hear me, Nattie? Don’t you say a word until you got an attorney present.”

“Mr. Westfield,” an unfamiliar male voice said calmly, “there’s no need for Mrs. Patterson to have an attorney present. We only want to ask her some questions.”

“That’s what they always say!” Gramps cried. “Then they slap ya with charges, Nattie. Keep yer lips zipped.”

Zeke followed the voices to the living room. Natalie stood just beyond the archway, holding Chad tightly against her. Her tousled black hair fell in a rippling veil over one of the boy’s shoulders. Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes huge and dazed. If she saw Zeke, she gave no sign of it.

Valerie immediately came to him. When Zeke noticed how badly she was shaking, he curled a steadying arm around her waist. Valerie grabbed his other hand and dug in hard with her fingernails.

“Robert’s really dead,” she whispered. “They won’t tell us anything. But it doesn’t look good.”

Zeke agreed. And Gramps was only making things worse. He released Valerie to enter the living room. With a pointed look at Pete, he grasped Natalie’s grandfather by a frail elbow. “There’s no need to get all upset, Charlie,” Zeke cajoled. “Come in the kitchen. We’ll have a cup of coffee. How does that sound?”

Rosie came bouncing down the stairs just then. The child came to a dead stop when she saw the two policemen. She turned questioning brown eyes on her mother. Zeke handed Gramps off to Pete and reached over the banister to pluck the little girl off her feet.

“Hi, gorgeous!” he said as he settled the child on his hip and followed the two older men to the kitchen. To drown out Gramps, who was making dire predictions about Natalie’s fate if she didn’t get a lawyer, Zeke spoke in a booming voice. “How’s my favorite girl this morning?”

“I’m fine.” Rosie looked back over his shoulder. “Why are those cops here?”

The child was too smart for her own good. “I think they want to talk to your mom for a little bit,” Zeke replied.

“What about?” Rosie pressed. “Did she break the law?”

“No, of course not. I have no idea what they want to talk to her about,” Zeke lied.

He yearned to stay with Natalie, but someone had to care for her daughter, and it seemed he was the only someone available. He went to the refrigerator and hauled out a pitcher of milk. Then he sat the little girl on the counter while he filled a glass for her. “What do you usually eat for breakfast, kiddo?”

“Cereal.”

Zeke left her to sip the milk while he searched through the cupboards.

“What do they want to talk to my mommy about?” Rosie asked again.

“Well, now, I’m not sure.” Zeke filled a small bowl with frosted flakes. “When your mom comes home, I bet she’ll tell us.”

“Where’s she going?”

Zeke did his best to flash a broad smile. “I think she’s going to go for a ride with them.”

“In their cop car?”

“Yes.”

Rosie’s eyes gleamed with interest. “I want to go, too.”

Zeke returned to the child and smoothed her black hair. “I don’t think you’re invited, sweetheart.” He leaned down to get at her eye level. “Have you ever had a morning picnic outside?”

“No.”

“You
haven’t?
” Zeke lifted the child down from her perch, handed her the glass of milk, and gestured at the porch. “You don’t know what you’re missing. A morning picnic is more fun than a barrel full of monkeys.”

“Won’t I just eat?”

“Heck no. We’ll do all kinds of exciting things.”

Zeke’s words proved to be prophetic. He’d no sooner parked his keister on the stoop than he heard Chester let loose with a war honk. Rosie’s eyes widened with horror. Zeke leaped to his feet. He heard masculine cries of distress coming from the front yard, confirming his worst fears.

“Chester, no!” Rosie yelled.

Zeke knew from experience that remonstrative shouts wouldn’t slow the gander down one iota. He’d just reached the front corner of the house when a police officer vaulted over the veranda rail, a flurry of white, honking feathers going airborne behind him.

With amazing speed, the cop raced for his car. Big problem. He stopped momentarily to wrest the door open, giving Chester opportunity to nail him on the ass. Zeke winced. The officer jumped, his shiny black shoes clearing the ground by at least a foot.

“Ouch!” he yelled. “Goddamned bird!”

The cop jerked off his hat and turned to swat at the gander. Chester was no faint heart, to be sent running by anything so insubstantial as a flapping hat. The bird hissed, extended his neck, and chomped the closest target, which just happened to be the fly of the police officer’s pants. The poor man folded at the knees as if he’d been drop-kicked, hands cupped over his crotch, face buried in the grass. Luckily, Chester became momentarily distracted by the officer’s hat rolling across the lawn.

Zeke flew into action to protect the fallen officer before Chester decided to press further assault. Unfortunately, before Zeke could reach the gander, the other cop came running out onto the grass to assist his partner. He had his hand on his firearm and murder in his eye.

“Don’t shoot him,” Zeke called. “He’s a family pet.”

“Pet, my ass. He attacked my partner!” the stocky fellow cried.

“I’ll get him,” Zeke promised, and then set himself to the task of doing just that, spreading his arms wide and racing in to do the “Dances with Ganders” thing again. He chased the blasted goose in circles around the yard for at least five minutes before finally getting him herded to the barn.

Zeke had been outside with Rosie for about thirty minutes when a blue Honda came bouncing up the gravel driveway and circled the police car to reach the back parking area. A raven-haired woman swung out. She was dressed in a skintight black leather skirt that rode well above her knees, a bright red knit top that showcased curves to knock a man’s eyes out, and black heels that gave a whole new definition to the word spike. Zeke needed no introduction to know that this was Natalie’s mother. She had the same sexy twist to her walk, the same flair with clothes, and almost the same face, except that hers had seen a little more wear.

When she entered the backyard, Rosie gave a delighted laugh and raced across the grass. “Grammy!” she cried. “You aren’t doing hair today?”

“No, I’m taking the whole day off to be with you!” Naomi Patterson hooked her black purse over one arm and crouched down to catch the child in her arms. “How’s my precious girl?”

“I’ve been better,” Rosie replied in that tiny but very adult voice that had so astounded Zeke at first. “The policemen are here to see Mommy, and Chad is crying. I think something very unpleasant has happened.”

So much for shielding the child. She seemed to know almost as much about what was occurring inside as Zeke did.

“Then, as if that weren’t enough, Chester bit one of the policemen once on his butt and the next time in the very worst place.”

Naomi’s brown, heavily lined eyes widened in dismay. “Oh
no
. Is the policeman okay?”

“He’s still walking sort of funny, but I think he’ll be all right.” Rosie sighed theatrically. “Chester almost got it good, though. The other policeman nearly shot him.”

“Good grief! He’s only a silly goose.”

“Mr. Coulter saved him,” Rosie went on. “And now we’re having a morning picnic outside.” Rosie scrunched her nose. “I don’t think he wants me to hear what those policemen are saying to Mommy.”

Naomi sent Zeke a worried look. Zeke guessed her to be in her mid-fifties, but even at close range, she was still a knockout with cameo-perfect features, beautiful brown eyes, and the body of a much younger woman.

Lifting Rosie to ride her hip, she managed to teeter across the uneven lawn with commendable grace. Zeke would have broken his neck on level ground trying to walk in those damned heels.

“Mr. Coulter.” Juggling both the child and her purse, she held out a slender hand. “As I’m sure you’ve already gathered, I’m Naomi Westfield, Natalie’s mother.”

He clasped her delicate fingers. “Good to meet you, Mrs. Westfield. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“Please, just call me Naomi.” She kissed her granddaughter’s curls and then handed the child back to Zeke. “I have to go inside, sweetie. You stay out here and finish your morning picnic. Okay?”

“My cereal’s all gone,” Rosie protested. “Why can’t I go back in?”

Zeke tickled the little girl’s ribs. “You promised to introduce me to Daisy and Marigold.”

“Oh. I forgot.” Rosie squirmed to get down. Then she grabbed Zeke’s index finger to lead him to the barn. “We’ll be right back, Grammy!” she called.

“Take your time,” Naomi replied. “And whatever you do, don’t let Chester out.”

Never in Zeke’s life had he lived through a longer day. After Naomi arrived, Natalie got dressed and left with the police officers. After her departure, Naomi gave Chad a Benadryl and hustled him up to bed. Within an hour, the boy had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

When Naomi came back downstairs, Zeke was sitting at the table, holding Rosie on his knee. Pop and Gramps sat across from him, the pair slumped over their coffee mugs, their faces haggard with worry.

“Valerie’s sitting with Chad.” Naomi stopped at the center of the room and put her hands on her shapely hips. To Pete and Charlie, she said, “Aren’t you a sorry-looking pair?”

“Don’t start with me,” Pete growled.

“Better I should let you sit there, looking like death warmed over? Go wash up and shave, for heaven’s sake. I can smell you from here, Pete, and I’m standing upwind.”

Pete’s blue eyes sparked with anger. “Don’t come into my house and start ordering me around, woman.”

“It’s technically Natalie’s house,” she shot back. “Your mother left it to
her,
if you’ll remember. And if you don’t want to be ordered around, stop moping and do something productive.”