Callahan's Gold (Southwest Desert Series Book 3) (7 page)

"Don't be alarmed by our old Western attitudes. Let me worry about that. You just ... go to sleep, and I'll take care of anything else that happens tonight."

"But, Dodge, I don't want any shooting over this."

"Look, Tory, do you mind if we discuss this in the morning, when I have a clearer head and more clothes on?"

"Oh! Yes, of course!" She blushed for the first time in years and waved one hand. "Yes, please, go. It's very disconcerting to see you standing there like that."

"Disconcerting? Does that mean there's a real woman beneath that silky  exterior?"

Her mouth twitched as she was torn between laughing hysterically and snapping his head off with another caustic retort. Then her emotions took over, and she responded quite unexpectedly. Large tears formed in her blue eyes as she said in a low voice, "Undoubtedly, I'm more real than most people around here realize or expect. And I'm damned upset by everything that's happened in the last two days. And now I'm damned scared." She turned her face away and quickly swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks.

Dodge sat down beside her and tucked a long arm around her shoulders. "I guess all this has been somewhat traumatic for you, Tory. Would be for anyone."

She sniffled and leaned back against his shoulder. "This is stupid. Please, go on to bed, Dodge. Forget this ever happened. I—I'm just tired tonight. I'll be all right tomorrow."

He pressed her against his rock-hard shoulder for another moment. "I'll be okay tomorrow, too, but damned if I'll forget the way I feel right now." A quick squeeze-hug, and he was gone.

She sat on the bed's edge for a long time, thinking not of the break-in at her motel room or her father's strange friends or even the pending trek up the mountain for the gold. She could only think of Dodge Callahan and what he did to her libido and how being near him nearly wrecked her emotions. Crazily, she even marveled that a cowboy-type like Dodge would wear colored briefs and how good he looked in them. And, oh, how he filled them out.

The man had responded to her, too. She was close enough—and aware enough—to realize he had reacted physically to her. And that thought sent a feminine thrill radiating through her.

Although mentally and physically exhausted, Tory tossed and turned for hours. She wrestled with the mattress that Dodge's large frame had dented only a few hours before. She couldn't stop thinking about him and wondering what it would be like to make love to the man.

With a shudder, she remembered the gun he'd so easily claimed. He could be a dangerous, violent man. How could she consider letting him touch her when those same hands had eagerly wrapped around the handle of a deadly weapon?

But she did. She not only considered it, but dreamed it.

The next day, both Tory and Dodge made conscious efforts to regain control of their hot attraction and keep their relationship on a business level. Over breakfast, they were subdued and relatively quiet. She didn't mention the dreaded gun and neither did he.

Between sips of steaming black coffee, he muttered, "You didn't sleep much last night. I heard you rolling around. Wasn't the bed comfortable?"

"The bed was fine. It wasn't that. Too much going on inside my head, I guess." Or in my body, she thought. "Sorry I kept you awake. That's another reason I think I should get another motel room."

"Absolutely not. Much too risky. We don't want to take a chance on this happening again and you possibly being around next time."

"Then how about a small apartment for a few weeks?"

"This is a small town, Tory. There aren't any short-term apartments available."

"But I can't just stay here with you."

"Why not? No one will know. I want to keep your presence here as quiet as possible, now that we know someone is causing trouble."

"I'm sure everyone knows about me after the will reading in the saloon."

"If you check out of the motel today, maybe they'll think you've left town."

"Is that necessary?" she asked.

"Well, we'll be leaving for the mountains in a couple of days, and you won't need that or any other room for a couple of weeks. It might fit in with our plans if they think you've left town completely."

"Will we be safer in the mountains?"

"I hope so." He rubbed his hand raggedly over his face.

"Dodge, I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. It was a rough night."

"Couldn't be helped," he said tightly as he poured more coffee. There was a tension between them that would not go away. They tried to be polite, pretended to ignore the mounting electricity. But something existed that made them both aware of the other's every move.

When Dodge suggested they go shopping for supplies and groceries for the trip, Tory readily agreed to help him with the chore. That would keep them busy and in the public for hours. And Lord knows, that's what they needed until this rush of physical attraction subsided.

They were gone all day. First, Tory checked out of the motel, then drove down the highway several miles and circled back to the trailer on a back road. Dodge was waiting for her.

Then the two of them scouted the stores in Sierra Vista and filled the rear of the Blazer with items needed for the trip. Tory double-checked the lists Dodge had made and helped him organize everything into small boxes that could be easily transferred to pack mules and saddlebags.

Before returning to the tiny trailer for the night, they stopped in Sierra Vista for dinner.

Dodge rested his forearms on the table. "You tired?"

"Exhausted," she admitted. "I won't have any trouble sleeping tonight."

"Good. Me, either. Ready to go?"

Tory accompanied him out, congratulating herself on a day well spent and, soon, an uneventful night. Maybe they had conquered their sexual magnetism, after all.

Dodge unlocked the trailer door, and before she could step inside, he uttered a stream of expletives and bolted inside.

Tory followed him and looked around at the mess inside. "Oh, no, not again!"

CHAPTER SIX

Stunned, Tory gazed around. Every item in the entire trailer had been turned over—and tossed. The place was a wreck, and Dodge was acting like a crazed man.

Furious, he plowed through the rubble, throwing things, cursing. His long arms flailed in frustration, his fists impotently thrashed the air. "Damn it! Look at this mess! Just look at it! How dare he break in here? This is Sharkey's place!"

Last night Dodge had calmed her fears with his strength and self-assurance. And when she'd stayed with him, he'd kept her safe all night. Now was her chance to give him the same reassurance he'd given her.

"Dodge, please, you're making it worse." Tory reached out to him, but he wouldn't stand still and slipped from her grasp.

"What the hell does he think he's doing, disrupting everything like this? The map isn't his! It's ours." He flipped on the hall light and gazed angrily into the bedroom. "He has no right to it alone —no right to do this! No right to invade our lives. Why, I'll—"

"Maybe we should call the police." She followed him, picking her footsteps between the canned goods and skillets and overturned chairs.

"The police?" he repeated derisively, shaking his head. "Do you want everyone in Cochise County to know what we're up to? Nothing will be safe then."

"But I don't want anyone hurt, either," she said. "Especially us."

Dodge gave her a speculative glance, squinting one brown eye. "He's after the map, Tory. Don't you see that?"

"He? Maybe the intruder is 'she'." She shook her head bleakly. "The map. Where is it? Do you still have it?"

He clapped his left hand over his heart, and she heard paper crinkling. "Safe. Right here."

Sighing, her shoulders slumped with relief that she'd given it over to him and forgotten about it. "Good." She moved closer to him and barely resisted the urge to reach up and touch the spot on his shirt he'd patted. Oh, God, he was alluring. Damned appealing, even now in his anger. Maybe more so because he exuded so much power. And masculinity. "Right. It's safe with you, Dodge."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes sincere and warm. She felt no fear, not even the deep resentment she'd exhibited in the past few days. Confidence and admiration replaced everything else.

He was momentarily caught in her gaze. Breathing in deeply, he tried to displace his frustration. "I wish I could say the same about us, Tory, that we're completely safe."

"I feel very safe with you, Dodge."

"Even after this?" He gestured over the mess.

"Yes. He—or whoever—is obviously after the map and waited in both cases until no one was home. He isn't out to harm us, only to steal the key to the gold."

"Besides, I've got the gun."

She shuddered. "But I trust you wouldn't use it unless absolutely necessary. For some crazy reason, I trust my feelings about you, Dodge." She smiled breathlessly. They stood exceedingly close, not touching but exuding an attraction that was nearly tangible. And strongly magnetic, pulling them together.

"Maybe you trust these feelings," he said softly, running a single tanned rough finger over her smooth cheek, "but I don't. They're dangerous. But exciting and. . ."

She breathed through slightly parted lips as he moved slowly to take her in his arms. One hand reached around her neck, long fingers splayed in the wispy blue black hair at her nape. His other hand closed over her shoulder, then eased down the stretch of her back. The chasm between them narrowed until their breathing intermingled and his lips descended to hers. His mustache was like a feather, brushing and teasing her skin while his lips melded with hers. He sipped as if she tasted of sweet wine.

Tory poured herself out to him, giving and at the same time receiving. She opened her lips to take the strength of his tongue, symbol of his masculine life and power.

She needed his rugged kind of power, needed a man like Dodge to take her in his arms and bring her to the brink of her passion. She swayed eagerly against his lean hardness and thrilled as his hand caressed the length of her back, ever pressing her to him, tracing the gentle curves of her hips.

Suddenly, his hold on her gentled, and the hand at her waist pushed them apart. "Tory, sorry I—"

"Don't apologize. I ... it was me, Dodge."

Her eyes had darkened to the color of thunder-clouds, and he found her exciting and vital. His response to her had been immediate and intense, and he knew he wanted her in a purely sexual way. But she didn't belong to him, wasn't his type. And obviously, he wasn't hers.

"I'd like to say this won't happen again, but when I look into your eyes, I seem to lose control," Dodge admitted, his smile slightly askew. "I'll have to work on that."

"We'll both have to work on it," she said softly. She couldn't help admiring his honesty and knew in her heart she didn't regret the kiss one bit.

"Your eyes are a beautiful shade of blue," he continued as if in a momentary trance. "Deep blue. They remind me of Sharkey's. They were trusting eyes, maybe too much so. Do you trust too easily, Tory?"

"Probably."

"You should be careful who you trust."

Dodge's hands were still on her, and she felt the strength and magnetism of the man. Her mind whirled at his words, her body ached with desire, and she tried to think straight. "Does that include you, Dodge?"

"Yes."

"I find that hard to believe. My father trusted you and I guess I want to, also. Right now, though, I only see you and me together. And what's happening to us. And I'm afraid it's happening too fast."

He nodded briskly and let his hands drop to his sides. "You're right, Tory. This is crazy . . ."

Suddenly, she smiled with a twinkle in those intent blue eyes. "According to what was said the other day at the saloon, we don't even like each other."

He chuckled. "Yeah. You aren't my type, city lady."

"Nor you, mine, cowboy." She tapped the front of his shirt, then self-consciously dropped her hand before she could succumb to touching him more. "Well, that's over. So much for lust."

"And now I know how you feel when I kiss you."

She nodded. "I hope our basic curiosity has been satisfied."

His brown almond eyes squinted at her, and she couldn't tell if he were serious or teasing. "I don't know about your curiosity, city lady, but this cowboy isn't content with just a little sniff of the brandy."

She smiled sweetly. "But too much brandy gives you heartburn."

"I'm burning all over just thinking about another kiss. And more. Maybe if we took it slow and easy, we'd get used to the heat."

"Maybe . . ." She tore her gaze from his, feeling the same burning inside her. Desperate to change the subject, Tory surveyed the wrecked room. "Whoever did this didn't take it slow and easy. He went berserk."

"Yep."

They picked their way into the bedroom amid the upturned suitcases, the disarray of her clothes mingled with the overturned bedside lamp and corner chair. Even the sheets had been stripped off and the mattress scooted awry.

"My thirty-eight!" Dodge yelled suddenly and dashed back into the living room where he'd hidden the weapon. "Dammit, it's gone! He took my gun!"

She looked at Dodge mildly. "I'm not surprised."

"I'll damn sure report this to the police," he muttered furiously.

"Oh? You won't report two break-ins, but you will report your gun being taken? That's crazy logic, Dodge."

"When something's taken, it's burglary. This is serious. That thirty-eight was made specially for me," he fumed.

"Well, should we go now and not touch a thing until the police have completed their investigation? We might mess up the fingerprints or something."

"Oh, I won't tell them about all this. It'll only point out we might have something to hide and alert them to the fact that you're still in town. They'll want to know details of our trek up the mountain, all about the gold, who we're going with, and what we're going for." He shoved his Stetson back on his head and propped his hands on his hips. Standing with legs apart, he surveyed the room. "No, I'll stop by the station tomorrow and report it missing."

Tory looked at him curiously for a moment, and decided to let him handle the security problem. She turned back to the mess before her. Shaking her head, she muttered, "My clothes will never be the same. But these hardy things made it fine." She lifted a new stiff pair of jeans with tags still attached.

Dodge rejoined her in the bedroom. "We need to wash those about a dozen times to soften them up and make them fit comfortably."

"Soft? Is it possible for these jeans to ever get soft?"

"Sure." He rubbed the thigh of his well-worn jeans. "Mine are."

Her eyes dropped to his thigh and the large hand stroking it, and she tried not to think about that hand . . . and that thigh . . . and how they would feel against her. Certainly not soft. "Yes, but you live in yours. I only intend to wear mine for the duration of this trip. After that, it's—"

"Back to your silks and the big city?"

She nodded. "Yes." When he didn't respond right away, she added, "In my business, I can't very well appear in well-worn jeans."

"Fancy business, huh?"

"Well, not fancy, but . . . nice. It's a rather selective shop. Jeans do not have panache."

"Panache? Does that mean fancy pants?"

"No! It means stylish. The latest vogue."

"Stylish, huh?" He looked down her length, taking purposeful notice of her slender hips and long legs. "You're that, all right. But I'd call you Fancy Pants." Then he grinned and picked up a pair of lace panties and dangled them. "See? Very fancy."

She snatched the meager item from his large hand. "You should talk about fancy pants! You, with your navy blue briefs!"

"Oh? You noticed?"

She turned a brilliant shade of rose blush. "I —I couldn't help but notice when you barged in like that."

"I was only trying to help a lady in distress." He grabbed the small barbell and flexed his arm with the weight a couple of times before giving it to her. "Better not let yourself get out of shape while you're here. You might need your strength."

She took the barbell from him and tossed it into the empty suitcase. "I don't plan to let myself get out of shape."

"Riding those mules up the mountain should keep some parts of you well toned," he muttered as he bent to straighten the mattress. "Guess we'd better get some of this cleaned up so you can go to bed."

She sighed. "After everything that's happened, I'm wide awake. What if he comes back? Do you think he's gone for good, Dodge?" Suddenly, she wanted his reassurance again.

"And you don't have your gun anymore." Strangely, she felt a pang of regret.

"But I have these." He knotted both hands into large fists. "I'll take care of you. Don't worry, Tory."

Instinctively, she reached out and grasped one huge-knuckled fist. She couldn't get her slender fingers all the way around the fist he'd made. "I have no doubt you'll be able to take care of me. And him. If you know he's here."

"I'll know."

"Only if you're close enough."

He took a step. "How close is enough?"

Her hand traveled up his sinewy forearm, over the bulging bicep, to his sturdy shoulder. She shouldn't be so impressed by mere muscles, but this brawny physique was attached to a man who elicited a response in her that went beyond reason. Beyond reasonable control. And she was rapidly losing hers. "This . . . this is probably close enough."

"Not for me, Tory." His chest expanded as he took a slow, heated breath, and she could hear and feel the rise and fall of the powerful expanse beneath her fingertips. "Can't you tell that I want you ... as close as possible?"

Her hand moved up his shirt to the bare spot at the base of his neck where his collar opened and his pulse throbbed. Her fingers tingled at the sensuous touch. "As close as possible . . ." she repeated in a breathy whisper.

Renewed by her response to his desire, Dodge pulled them together again, clamping his lips over hers with a vigorous fervor. The timid gentleness was gone this time, replaced by strength of yearning. They clung to each other, grasping and clutching as the throes of gutsy desire took over. Now it was a man and a woman, giving in to feelings and lust, two firebrands seeking the heart of the flame that aroused them.

He kissed her lips, her face, her cheeks. His lips tasted her long, creamy neck, then traveled deeper, lower. With crazed hands, he removed the blouse and the lacy bra that embraced her firm white breasts. His lips caressed them, setting her aglow with his fiery kisses.

She lifted in response to his passion and each nipple perked up as he alternated his kisses between them.

Her fingers shook as she hurried to unbutton his shirt and open it to reveal the expanse of masculine chest that she craved to touch . . . and kiss. And she did, until he moaned softly and pulled her close to kiss her lips again.

"Tory . . . Tory . . ." he murmured softly.

His hands stroked her bare back, and she fervently arched against him, crushing her creamy breasts to the carved muscles of his chest. He pressed her against the hardness of his groin. "We belong together, Tory. Like this."