Jeannie Watt (20 page)

She reached up to remove his glasses and found the act oddly intimate. She set the glasses aside and looked into those gorgeous hazel eyes. And what she saw there made her shiver in anticipation.

With slow deliberation, she reached out to take his face between her hands, sliding her sensitive palms over the lightly stubbled planes of his cheeks. The corners of her mouth tilted up at the sensation and then she leaned forward until her lips just touched his in the lightest of kisses. A butterfly touch. Brief. Promising.

She pulled back and his mouth followed hers. When the back of her head touched the cabinet behind her, his lips settled.

His mouth was warm, wet and demanding. No teasing, no light caresses this time. Serious kisses, deep kisses, kisses meant to inflame. Kisses that were doing exactly what he intended them to do.

She felt herself dampening and she pushed herself against the hardness in his jeans, growing wetter at the intimate contact. She hooked her legs around his hips pulling him even closer, savoring every nuance of the sensations traveling through her body.

She let out a sigh when Matt’s hot mouth finally left hers and he leaned back.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I have to leave tomorrow. I go to work on Monday.”

“I know.”

“So, I guess what I’m asking is—”

“I meant what I said last night.”

Matt took a moment to consider her flat statement, and then asked, “What exactly did Somers do to you?”

Tara’s gaze didn’t waver. “He was rough.”

He gave her a long, searching look and apparently understood that that was all the answer he was going to get. “And if we do this, what about tomorrow? When I have to leave?”

Tara still held his gaze. “You leave. I stay.” It sounded so simple…she hoped it was. She cared for him, trusted him, but realistically there was nothing to hold them together. They’d both survived without each other for a long time. They would no doubt continue to.

“As long as we understand each other.”

“We understand,” Tara murmured. “Totally. And now—” she tilted her head “—I really, really think you should kiss me again.”

Matt didn’t have to be asked twice. He reached behind her to slide his hands under her seat and pull her even more tightly against him as his tongue pushed into her waiting mouth in a hot kiss so intense that Tara felt as if a fuse had been lit inside of her.

He brought one hand up to pop the silver concho barrette and it rattled to the counter, not breaking for once. He buried his hands in the thick hair as he continued to lean into her, kissing her.

“Are we going to do this…here?” Tara finally asked on a moan. Here would be okay. She was already working on the buttons of his shirt.

Matt let her finish the job, even though her fingers were clumsier than usual. When she was done, she pushed the blue chambray off his shoulders. It slid down his arms and landed in a heap behind him. She immediately leaned forward to do something she had wanted to do for weeks. She tasted him, trailing her tongue over the faintly salty surface of his shoulder muscles, teasing her lips with the smattering of dark hair on his chest. She circled a nipple, first tentatively, then more boldly as his hands bunched in her hair. She nipped him and he groaned. She traveled on, up his chest, up his throat, over the stubble on his chin to his lips. And then she buried her tongue in his mouth, pressing herself against him.

Matt never answered her question, but when he lifted her up off the counter and carried her down the short hall to her bedroom with her legs still hooked around his hips, she figured his answer was no. They wouldn’t do it in the kitchen. At least, not yet.

It wasn’t until he gently set her back on her feet in her bedroom that she felt the quick and brutal stab of anxiety.

What on earth was she doing? Had she not learned this lesson the hard way? That sex was not her friend? That it hurt? Badly?

And then she looked at Matt and the anxiety ebbed.

“I need you to…go slow.”

He brought his head down to touch hers. “I will go very, very slow. And anytime you say stop, I’ll stop.”

Tara nodded against his forehead and he briefly tasted her lips before he took her by the hand and led her to the bed. He sat and pulled her, still standing, between his knees, looking up at her.

“Slowly,” he reiterated and then he punctuated his words by peeling the T-shirt she wore up and over her head. Tara pulled her hair free and shook it down her back. Matt watched the movement with fascination. His hands came up to span her bare waist as the heavy strands dropped into place, and he kept his eyes on her face as he slowly pressed a kiss to her abdomen. Tara pulled in a sharp breath. He slid his mouth over her smooth skin, making circles, tickling her navel with his tongue. Tara’s muscles seized and she unconsciously fisted her hands in his hair.

She made a little noise and bit her lip to keep from making more as Matt’s slick mouth traveled up to the edge of her bra. He flicked his tongue under the lace and her nipples contracted, almost painfully.

She glanced down, color rising in her cheeks as she saw that he was watching her, keeping his eyes on her as he teased her, waiting, no doubt, for some sign that she wanted to stop. But she didn’t want to stop. Not yet.

Matt raised his hand to her bra, continuing to hold her gaze as he flicked a finger against the plastic clasp. It popped open. Tara’s breasts fell free and only then did Matt pull his eyes away from hers. He touched her, lightly at first, caressing the silk of her skin with his rough-edged fingers, cupping her fullness, filling his palms. Tara pressed herself forward into his hands and he took her up on the unspoken invitation, flicking his tongue over one nipple, causing Tara to suck in a sharp breath.

And then he suckled.

Tara thought she was going to lose control right there. She had never, ever felt anything quite so exquisite as Matt’s tongue, his lips, his teeth, on her sensitive nipples, first one, then the other and back again. By the time he was finished, her breath was shaky. Her entire body was shaky.

“Are you all right?” Matt asked quietly.

“Fine,” Tara responded breathlessly. Her voice was shaky, too.

He continued to nuzzle her breast as his fingers trailed back down her abdomen, and the ends of his fingers hooked on the waistband of her jeans. She stilled as Matt worked on the snap closure, then froze as he started to drag the zipper down.

Matt stopped instantly.

Tara frowned, annoyed with herself and her reaction. She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t want to be a victim of Ryan. She yanked her zipper down in one quick movement and quickly shucked out of both her panties and her jeans.

And then she just stood there. In front of him. Naked and uncertain.

Matt reached for her and pulled her to his chest, rolling her over him and tumbling her onto the bed, coming to rest partially on top of her. And then he kissed her, wiping all uncertainty out of her mind. His mouth was demanding, but his hands were gentle, caressing, creating a dichotomy of sensation.

The denim of his jeans was rough against her bare skin, creating another surprisingly erotic contrast, but it was his hands that Tara was most aware of, hands that were finally traveling down to where she wanted…something.

He touched her then, rubbing his thumb over the most sensitive part of her body and she gasped. He kept kissing her, but it was his fingers she concentrated on as they moved over the slick dampness between her legs. She gasped again as one finger penetrated her, felt herself close in on it, move against it. He kept rubbing with his thumb, dipping into her with his fingers.

Tara was losing control. She tried to stop. She really did, but his fingers would not stop, they gave her no reprieve, showed her no mercy. She cried out, biting her lips as the sensation built to an unbearable level and then, suddenly, the world exploded around her. Blood pounded in her temples. Colors flashed. It went on, an eternity of throbbing sensation, until finally she dropped her head against Matt’s chest and took a shaky breath. Only then did his fingers still.

She couldn’t believe it. She raised her head to look at Matt in wonder. So this was sex? This was an orgasm? No wonder people were so enthusiastic.

He smiled.

Tara pushed her hair back and took another breath. She reached for Matt’s jeans, deliberately popping open the buttons on the classic 501s one after the other. She was glad he wasn’t wearing a zipper because she had a feeling she’d have had a difficult time getting it down. He raised his hips and she worked the jeans over his legs, while he kicked his shoes off, letting her fingers travel over the taut hair-covered muscles of his thighs and calves, loving the sensual contrast between his body and hers. She dumped the jeans on the floor and went back then to take his boxers on the same slow trail. But as soon as her hands touched the navy blue cotton she stopped.

“Something wrong?” Tara heard the concern in his voice and she forced herself to shake her head. He propped himself up and reached for her chin, tilting it so he could see her face.

“Scared?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“We can stop,” he said. Her eyes flashed up to his.

“I don’t want to stop.”

A gentle hand came up to stroke her hair then, pushing it away from her face so he could see her.

“Are you sure?” She gave him an ironic look and he smiled again. “I know…you’re too cautious to be sure. But you have to be this time.”

She smiled a little. “I’m sure.” And then his expression sobered. He took her hand and guided it down, letting her run her palm over the hard length of him. His eyes went shut as her fingers closed around him through the cotton of his boxers, then he forced them open again.

He gently worked his boxers free of her grip and slipped out of them, then rolled over and reached for his pants. A second later he held a condom packet. He reached down and rolled the latex sheath into place before guiding her hand back down to encircle him. “Like an Eagle Scout…”

“I like the way you think,” Tara murmured, trying to hide her nerves as he moved gently on top of her, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. She felt her body go rigid. This was when the pain had started before, when, despite his promise to go slow her first time, Ryan had lost all patience, and roughly shoved his way home. And that had only been the beginning.

“Shh,” Matt soothed, bringing her back to the here and now. He kissed the corner of her mouth, stroked her hair, traced his tongue lightly over her lips. She was starting to go liquid again, starting to relax, but then he shifted and she felt the blunt pressure of him against her and once again she felt the panic. Her eyes flashed up to his, seeking reassurance. He smiled down at her. Patient. Gentle.

“Just say stop. Anytime.”

The tender words were what she needed. She made a move against him and he in turn, pushed gently against her, causing one of the most incredible sensations she had ever felt. She reached down for him then, sliding her hand between their bodies, encircling him once again with her fingers, arching a little as he started to ease into her, slowly…oh, so slowly.

Tara’s eyes drifted shut, focusing on the exquisite pressure she felt as he moved farther inside of her, filling her.

He held himself still for a moment as she arched against him, and then he eased back out. Tara bit her lip as he pushed back in again. All the way in. In one smooth stroke this time. Then out.
Oh. My. Goodness.

She became aware that her breath was coming in pants as he moved in her. And then, at some hazy point, she noticed that his movements were no longer slow and sensually deliberate. He pushed into her harder and faster. Tara clutched at his back, then fisted her hands in his hair, drowning in sensation as he drove himself into her again and again.

It didn’t seem possible. Couldn’t be possible…could not…but it was.

Tara cried out as she exploded around him, arching against Matt’s body just seconds before she felt the muscles in his back go rigid. He gave one last thrust as his body emptied into hers. And then he carefully lowered himself down to rest on top of her.

Matt lay still for a moment, his breathing rough and unsteady. Tara cradled his head to her breast, loving the feel of him sprawled possessively on top of her. Then he lifted himself up and reached out to tenderly brush the hair back from Tara’s face.

“Did I hurt you?”

“If you did, I hope you do it again real soon,” she murmured. He rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him, holding her against his chest, her hair spilling over them.

“Trust me. That can be arranged.”

W
EAK SUNLIGHT FILTERED
in through the lace curtains covering Tara’s bedroom windows. It was probably close to four-thirty. She couldn’t see the clock because of Matt’s shoulder, and she was afraid to move, afraid of waking Matt, afraid of having to face the reality she had so blithely created without any thought of consequence. The night had been incredible…she’d never known passion before, had never felt so close to a person in her life—a person who’d be walking out of her life in just hours….

To say she was confused was a massive understatement.

She’d known for quite a while she trusted Matt, but last night she came to realize that the feelings she had for him went beyond trust. The depth of emotion he provoked in her both terrified and astonished her. She’d never felt anything like this before. She didn’t have any idea how to deal with it. Didn’t even know if it was real.

She needed time to think, without being swayed by Matt’s nearness.

She’d been lying awake for over an hour when Matt finally shifted and then got out of bed, crossing to the hall leading to the bathroom without looking back. She swallowed as she watched his impersonal exit. Already she missed his warmth. A very bad sign, no doubt.

She forced herself out of bed, feeling numb as she started picking up her scattered clothing. It took some time. She found her missing sock under the dresser, her left shoe in the hallway.

Matt came out of the bathroom as she was buttoning her blouse, which seemed to be missing a button. She gave him what she hoped was an acceptable morning-after smile. He smiled back, but she could see that he, too, was dealing with the reality brought on by daylight. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere except for where he was.

Say something.

She didn’t know what to say. She could face down bullies in parking lots, she could tell people off in public meetings…but she had never, not even with Nicky, discussed her deepest fears and feelings.

How was she supposed to start now, when she didn’t even know what she was dealing with?

T
ARA STOOD NEXT
to the rumpled bed, her fingers working on the buttons of her blouse but not quite getting the job done. It was all Matt could do not to brush her fingers away and finish up himself, but he was afraid he might start working in the wrong direction. He’d been afraid to kiss her good-morning for the same reason. He wanted to make love to her one more time, but he’d felt her lying tensely next to him, wide-awake, for a good hour. He might have worked his way around that, but she made no move to touch him, kept as much distance between them as her undersized bed would allow. The one time he had eased his body against hers, she’d moved away. Obviously, she intended to abide by their verbal contract and Matt knew that, for her sake and his, he needed to do the same.

He had to face that he was heading back to his world today. Making love to Tara again would only prolong the inevitable.

Her words of the night before echoed in his head as he shrugged into his shirt.
You leave. I stay.

It made sense and Tara appeared to be satisfied with the agreement. She even looked as if she wanted him to leave as soon as decorum allowed. He decided to give her a break and take off.

“I need to get going,” he said, but he couldn’t help making one last shot at reviving the togetherness they had shared the night before. “I do have time to make breakfast before I go.” He tried a smile. “No oatmeal.”

Tara shook her head. “No breakfast, but thanks.”

Enough said.

T
ARA WATCHED
M
ATT
drive away after a stilted goodbye that had been uncomfortable to both of them, a brief embrace, an impersonal brush of lips. And that was it. He was out of her life. She took a shaky breath.

Think. She had to think about this.

She was the one who’d laid down the rules, but he had agreed to them, had given no indication this morning that he regretted them. He seemed to cling to them in the same way a drowning man clutched a life preserver.

He’d been clear about his no-relationship policy, as had she. It made sense. It was logical.

So why did it seem such a rotten idea right now? She had gotten her wish. He’d made love to her. He’d wiped Ryan right out of her brain, and now she regretted it. Not the lovemaking, but rather, the aftermath.

Tara had turned to go into the house when she heard another car and looked back. To her amazement, Martin Somers got out of the white Continental that had pulled to a stop next to her Camry.

She started down the steps, wondering what this was all about. It couldn’t have happened at a better time. At the moment she didn’t give two hoots about much of anything, except for the turmoil she had created for herself with Matt.

“Tara.”

“Mr. Somers.” Tara chose to go formal with the father of the man who had ruined her house.

“I’m here to discuss—” he paused very briefly “—the incident two nights ago.”

The incident. How wonderfully impersonal.
Tara waited.

“I want you to consider dropping charges against my son.”

Tara slowly yet adamantly shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“If you drop the charges, I will see to it that the damages are fully recompensed.”

“I believe you’ll be seeing to that anyway.”

“You might find going to court expensive.”

“I’m sure I’ll get court costs.”

“If you win.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“There is no evidence Ryan did what you claim he did. He saw the door hanging open from the road as he was driving. He stopped, found the place ruined. It’s possible you did it yourself for the insurance money.”

Tara shook her head again. “You need to think about your public image here, Martin. You see, I’m used to being a pariah. You are not.” She tilted her head, regarding the man and for once she felt as if she were in the driver’s seat. “I think you’re going to find that public opinion in Night Sky has changed. A lot of people came to help me yesterday and they saw firsthand what your son had done. And now you’re trying to get him off the hook and I don’t think that’s going to look so good. You can put all the spin on this you want but you and Ryan are not going to come out of this unscathed.”

Martin turned toward his car. His hand was on the handle when he looked back. “You don’t know what you’re doing here.”

Tara shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. Win, lose or draw, dirty laundry will come out. Most of it yours, since mine is already out there.”

“Do not threaten me, Miss Sullivan.”

“It’s not a threat. Just a warning. I may not have your resources, so I have to play hardball with whatever I have.” She paused. “And you’re wrong about no evidence, Martin. Rafe swabbed the blood on the door where Ryan broke my window. In fact, he took a lot of samples, because there was blood everywhere. Did Ryan run in to stop me and then proceed to bleed all over the house in the process?” Her forehead wrinkled in a frown. “That won’t look good.”

Martin showed no emotion. Tara hadn’t expected him to. “I might consider working out a deal,” she said.

“What kind of deal?”

“Let’s talk punitive damages. If Ryan pled no contest to the charges and accepted his punishment, I wouldn’t be able to pursue punitive damages in civil court, and
you
would look a heck of a lot better than if you spent tons of money trying to get your obviously guilty son off the hook.” She raised a shoulder. “Just a suggestion.”

“Anything else?” Martin asked with a sneer.

“Yes. You seem to carry some weight with the manager of U.S. Trust. Before I consider any kind of deal I want my loan refinanced.”

“I can’t—”

“Of course not,” Tara agreed. “Just like you didn’t influence the loan
not
being refinanced.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You might mention the term predatory loan practices aimed at the elderly to the bank manager if you see him.” She hadn’t had much time to look into it, just a few minutes here and there, but what she had found made for interesting reading. She was certain Nate Bidart would think so, too.

Martin opened his car door.

“Oh. One more thing,” she added conversationally. “I have quite a list of people who were suddenly
unable
to work for me but still worked for you. A lot of little coincidences.” Her nose wrinkled a little. “Well documented, and when added to Ryan’s destruction, wow, it looks like a conspiracy.”

“You’ll need a good lawyer to prove that.”

“How does Nate Bidart sound?”

Martin turned without another word and got into his car, and that in itself told Tara that she might soon find herself on the trail to financial recovery. And if she didn’t…well, she was pretty certain now she’d survive. She seemed to be getting a lot of practice at survival lately.

Lydie dropped Hailey off at 8:00 a.m. to help with the cooking for tomorrow’s guests and then decided to pitch in herself until her first appointment at the salon.

“I heard Ryan is already out on bail,” she announced as she tied on an apron, “but that Martin is so embarrassed that he has forbidden him from showing up at the reunion. Rumor has it Ryan is going
out of town
very soon.” Lydie gave Tara a significant look as she said the last words. “Probably an all-expense paid vacation to somewhere warm and far away to keep him out of his father’s hair.”

Martin is afraid of becoming a target of a lawsuit and wants his son in a place where he can do no more damage
.

“Let’s see, what else?” Lydie said as she chopped onions. “I guess Stacia has figured out who Ryan was seeing on the side. It was an old girlfriend from Elko who Ryan just wasn’t quite ready to part company with. Or rather,
she
wasn’t ready to part company with
him
after a short post-engagement fling. A hot little number I hear.” She gave Tara a meaningful sideways glance. “Martin’s the same way, you know. That old coot had a girl on the side for most of his married life. I don’t know how his wife stood for it.”

Lydie continued passing on the gossip she had picked up in the shop for another forty-five minutes as she helped chop, slice and mix. “Well,” she finally said as she untied her borrowed apron. “I have a perm and it’s Mrs. Martini. I can’t be late or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Lydie bustled out the door. Tara looked at Hailey and shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “You must know everything, working at that place.”

“I can’t wait to get out of there and not know everything,” Hailey said on a sigh. “Exhausting.”

Tara glanced at her watch. “Would you mind finishing piping these shells? I have to get to—”

“Your stupid committee meeting,” Hailey finished for her. “You bet.”

“The meetings don’t seem as stupid as they used to.”

Hailey raised her eyes, the piping bag hovering dangerously unattended over a shell.

“Someone usually ends up crying,” Tara explained with a nonchalant wave of her hand, making an attempt to sound like her old self. “Lots of unexpected action and drama.”

The meeting, of course, lasted forever, but this time there were no tears. Dottie still had a few tricks up her sleeve, though. It seemed that after the dress parade, she thought it was the best of ideas to have all of the queens present walk the length of the runway with an escort while slides of their original coronation were shown. She’d already found the slides, and had the escorts lined up.

Great. On top of everything else, now she’d get to relive her sucky prom in front of an audience.

It was obvious that Dottie had been planning this for some time, but had waited to spring it on the women until it was virtually fait accompli. She’d probably been afraid that someone—like, oh say, Tara—would nix it, and Tara was tempted, but she also knew how important it was for Dottie to relive her moment of glory.

She raised her hand though, knowing Dottie would expect at least a token resistance.

“I won’t be escorted by Principal Gates, will I?” There was a short silence and then Dottie laughed.

“No,” she promised, waving her hand at Tara in a dismissive gesture. Sandra Hernandez turned red.

“Great,” Tara said as she collected her shoulder bag and got to her feet. “In that case, I’ll find something nice to wear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have a few things I need to settle.” She headed for the door, knowing that, regardless of the reunion preparations she still had to make, the main thing she needed to settle was in her own mind. Was she actually in love with Matt? And if so, what was she supposed to do about it?

Luke was industriously clipping a hedge when Tara drove in, but no greenery seemed to be coming off. He was faking it, waiting for her, obviously to put his two cents in. A few weeks ago, she would have been furious if someone had tried to push their nose into her private business, but at the moment she welcomed any insight she could get.

“Hey, Luke.”

He gave her a searching look, and Tara realized that he knew more than she probably wanted him to. Nothing was ever private.

“Tara.”

“Did you see Matt before he left?” she asked, taking the bull by the horns.

That appeared to be all the opening Luke needed. “I did. Did you know about the FFD exam?”

“The FFD? What’s that?”

“Fitness for Duty.”

Tara felt as if she’d just been sucker punched. Matt had to take a fitness for duty exam? When he poured his guts out a few nights ago, he hadn’t seen reason to share that bit of information. Trust issues or privacy issues? Pride perhaps.

“Neither did I. Not until he returned his key.”

“What does it involve?”

“Basically a visit to the shrink. He has to pass the exam before he can go back on patrol. Until then he’ll be parked behind a desk or not working at all. Just another way for the lieutenant to try to get to him.” Luke added in a low voice, “And that woman helped him.”