Skin Heat (37 page)

Every item she’d mentioned, he had acquired, making her dream come true, and maybe it would seem trivial to someone else. Her throat thickened. It was just a bathroom. Just paint, time, and a few knickknacks . . . and it wasn’t. This room offered a promise from him to her, and by God, she would hold him to it.

Zeke tilted his head, indicating the fuzzy green rug and the green marbled soap dish. “For you. Just like you wanted.”

“I love it,” she breathed. “But . . . you knew I’d be back?”

“Hoped. Someday. If I ever proved myself worthy.”

“You always were.” Neva became aware she was standing in her bra and panties, gawking at the bathroom. “Did you want to wait outside while I—”

“No.” He’d never be a talker, but as he stripped his shirt off with measured intent, she didn’t mind. Zeke started the water running and shucked his jeans.

My God, he’s so gorgeous.
She ought to be used to the sight of him by now, but it had been awhile. Neva knew he’d never believe her if she said it out loud, but her eyes didn’t lie; he had a runner’s body, taut and lean and well defined. Her gaze wandered down his chest to his ridged abdomen over the concavity of his pelvis. He was already hard, and she hadn’t even touched him. No kissing. But the promise appeared to be enough.

He stood, serious and still, as she studied him. “Water’s warm.”

In reply she swept the fancy curtain back and stepped into the tub. Zeke followed close behind, and when he touched her, she felt the tremors in his hands. He wasn’t remotely in control, but he’d been trying to pretend. For her. So their makeup sex would be sweeter than the way they’d fucked on the kitchen floor.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I just want you.”

The words seemed to break something in him, and he gathered her close on a little growl as the water cascaded over them in a silver spray. It patterned his skin and she drew damp fingers down his side, reveling in his heat and power. He found her throat with his mouth, and then his teeth, nuzzling in the way that she remembered.

Zeke drew her hard up against him, and she went boneless at the rasp of his chest against her breasts. His cock jabbed against her belly, and he circled his hips, a creature of instinct now.

“Meant to go slow,” he growled. “Take my time.”

“Too late for that.”

“Mmm. Always is, with you.”

But she had in mind to tease, so she slipped away. With wet skin it was easy. She put a bar of soap between them and lathered her hands. “Let’s finish the shower first. You can wait, right?”

He hissed as her foamy hands slid over his chest. Lower. “Gonna kill me.”

Neva watched his face avidly as she washed him, fingers playing over each muscle group. He stood like a beautiful statue, so hard she feared he might break, and she almost hoped he did. Except that would be frustrating.

At last she finished rinsing him and he turned the tables on her. She’d expected him to push her against the wall, but instead he plucked the soap and went to work on her breasts, by now achingly sensitive; each touch sent pleasure careening through her. Neva arched, wanting his mouth, but instead he merely went on. He caressed everywhere: breasts, belly, hips, thighs. When he parted them to tenderly soap between, she almost came. But he didn’t give her enough stimulation, not quite enough, and then he splashed water, rinsing her. And he still wasn’t finished. The bastard washed her hair in soft, seductive swirls.

Her whole body felt flushed and hungry. “Now? Please, now.”

His reply came when he hitched her up and sank into her. Neva locked her ankles behind his back, gloriously full. He made her feel soft and small and so cherished. She rolled her hips, tightening her muscles on his cock. Zeke moaned. He gripped her hips and thrust in long, deep strokes.

“Oh.
More
.”

“Mine,” he whispered.

“Always.”

He bent his head and ran his mouth against her throat, biting a path to her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, reveling in being taken. The water rained down, and she felt dimly amazed it didn’t evaporate on her skin. He held her with one arm and slid the other between them, fiercely focused.

She clenched and came, quaking in his arms. An answering growl rumbled from his chest, and then he pinned her to the shower wall, each push a little harder than the last. His shocks mingled with hers, leaving her sweet and fluid with satiation.

Thankfully he still had some coordination, or she would’ve collapsed in the tub. Zeke maneuvered them out and guided her, still dripping, down the hall to his bedroom. It was a little chilly, so they scrambled wet into the sheets and drew up his grandmother’s quilt. As she snuggled up to him, she realized—
oops
.

But he shook his head, apparently reading her look. “Didn’t forget. Never wearing one again. Want you to mother my children.”

The feminist in her considered bristling at his peremptory statement. But at base, she wanted children, too . . . and she was fine with the pregnancy happening when it would. Maybe if her father lived long enough, he’d even get to see his first grandchild. That possibility roused a warm glow.

“No telling how long it will take. Sometimes people have trouble.”

“Willing to keep at it.”

“That’s selfless of you.”

She felt him smiling against the top of her head. His fingers sifted through her hair, finger-combing the tangles. “Isn’t it, though?”

“But there’s a price.”

“Shit. No free lunch?”

“Afraid not.”

Zeke sighed. “Tell me.”

“Dinner with my parents this weekend.”

“Reckon that’s not too steep, given I aim to marry their daughter.”

“Really?” She threw an arm across his waist. “I don’t remember being asked.”

A wickedly delightful smile curled his mouth. “Think this is the right time? Figure you’re too weak to get away.”

“Try me.” Scooting up in bed, she tucked the sheet beneath her arms and then folded her hands primly in her lap.

To her astonishment, he bounded off the bed, allowing her to admire the tight curve of his backside, and padded over to the dresser. Surely he hadn’t—but yes. When he came back, he held a blue velvet box. Eyes on hers, he offered it to her.

With trembling fingers, she flipped the lid, and nestled in ivory satin, she found two matching rings: white gold, art deco style. The wedding band had diamonds inset, and the engagement ring had several smaller stones instead of one big one.

“Belonged to my grandmother,” he said softly. “Found those when I was cleaning the place. Had ’em polished for you.”

“When?”

Zeke ducked his head, adorably bashful. “’Fore you came to stay. I been wanting you so long, I can’t remember nobody else.” He came to his knees on the bed beside her and put out his hand. “Will you, then? Be with me always?”

Other women might get more lavish proposals or more eloquent ones. But they didn’t come with Zeke Noble, and his wild, beautiful soul. Her heart sang like the meadowlark and whippoorwill outside in the trees, who didn’t have the sense to know it was winter, and they should be elsewhere. Or maybe, just maybe, knowing Zeke, they had come just for this reason, for this moment. She could expect such marvels in a life with him.

“I will,” she whispered.

It was not
a glamorous party. For one thing, kittens frolicked underfoot. Each wiggle of the shoe brought out pouncing instincts. They were all litter trained now and eating dry kitten food, content in their new home.

Neva’s mother had invited none of the crème de la crème, nobody who could boost their social status. Instead it was a relatively small gathering. The guest list consisted of herself, Zeke, Sheriff Raleigh, Luke, her parents, Ben Reed, and unexpectedly, Agent Hebert.

She’d thought he would’ve been glad to see the last of this town, but he’d agreed to come to please Lillian Harper. Maybe his supervisor, Hal Birch, had something to say about it. For whatever reason, he was here sipping his wine and making small talk with the sheriff.

It had been six weeks since Julie’s funeral. They’d hired a new tech to replace her, but she’d never be Neva’s best friend. That ache would never go away. She had helped the Fish family make arrangements; she’d bought flowers and made sure they had food in the house, and she still felt it wasn’t enough. Like she should’ve known somehow and saved her. But outwardly there hadn’t been any warning signs or clues about Travis’s secret life. Not until the end.

Agent Hebert made his way to her side, moving gingerly; he was on leave from the ABI. From what she’d heard, it was his second medical absence that year. If she were him, she’d take it as a sign maybe he should consider a change of career.

“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t one for small talk, no more than Zeke, and she liked him for it, more than she’d expected the first time he turned up out at the farm, quietly annoyed at the sheriff’s warnings to handle her with kid gloves. Sometimes you found friends in unlikely places.

“No?”

“You’ll drive yourself crazy unless you accept that you can’t save everyone. Maybe that means I’m a bad cop, I don’t know. But I’ve realized loss is inevitable.”

“It doesn’t. It means you’ve taken some knocks. We all have.”

Despite the brightness of the chandelier overhead and the luxury of maids circulating with trays of hors d’oeuvres, none of this felt like home to her. She nursed no bitterness any longer, but she belonged at the farm now. Neva watched Zeke, but in this smaller crowd he seemed to be more at ease. It probably helped that everyone here accepted him without question.

“As you probably guessed, I didn’t come over to talk philosophy.”

“No?”

“Zeke invited me to stay with y’all for a few weeks. He said he wants to take me fishing and make up for the fact he almost got me killed.”

That surprised her. But she didn’t object. Her man didn’t take to people readily, so if he liked Hebert, she wouldn’t argue. The farmhouse had three bedrooms, and they only needed one. Hebert could stay downstairs in the newly renovated room. Zeke still didn’t like to go in there, despite the fresh paint, and last night, he’d confided in her as to why. But death didn’t linger; you could sweep away memories with fresh air and laughter. Everything went in its own time.

“You’re welcome. I appreciate what you did for us. If you hadn’t shot him, if he’d been stronger . . .” Well, things might have turned out differently for everyone.

The events of that night gave her the sense the universe might be connected in grand and mysterious ways. If not for Zeke’s abilities, if not for that coyote, if not for a cautious man choosing to take a risk instead—and the list went on. Because it all aligned, she’d saved her brother and come out stronger on the other side. Because she’d offered Zeke a job, she had her family back. This year she had much for which to be grateful.

There was loss, too, of course, and an ache that would never go away. But all told, things were better than they could’ve been, given the circumstances.

It was a little awkward at first, but Ben wasn’t ever going to stop being a friend of the family. Zeke apologized to him and they shook hands. Ben was cool, but he’d lost to the man, and then nearly been throttled by him. Neva figured that was to be expected. Though she doubted they’d ever be friends, it was a start. After the uncomfortable exchange, Ben spent his time with her father, talking campaign ideas. If he couldn’t marry Harper’s daughter, he could still benefit from Conrad Harper’s undoubted political acumen.

They ate family style, passing bowls around the table, and she couldn’t remember ever enjoying a meal at her mother’s house more, at least not since she’d been grown. In her childhood there had been secret midnight suppers in front of the TV, sticky peanut butter and jelly fingers and a whispered order not to tell Grandmother Harper. Neva felt glad the old martinet no longer ruled this place from her grave.

Afterward, Sheriff Raleigh got to his feet. “I reckon y’all know I have an announcement to make.”

She glanced at the bulge in Zeke’s pocket. They did, too. There was a reason she hadn’t worn her ring. He wanted to make it official in front of her folks and ask permission formally. He hadn’t wanted to do it so soon after they’d broken up, lest her family thought they were rushing things.

But she leaned forward, chin propped on her hand, as Raleigh went on, “That business over the holidays made me realize something. I don’t want another term. I’ve had this job for twenty years, and it’s time for me to retire.”

Nobody protested, which meant they’d known it was coming. Her father said, “I understand, Cliff. Do you have anyone in mind as your successor? Is there somebody in the department who could step up?”

Raleigh snorted. “Like who? Bobby Pickett?”

Even Neva smiled at that. Pickett was a good guy, but not upwardly mobile.

The sheriff continued, “I was awful impressed with Agent Hebert. He’d need to move into the county, and run for office when the time comes, but you could help with that, couldn’t you, Con?”

Her father smiled. “I reckon I know a thing or two about winning elections.”

Watching his face, she decided this offer didn’t take Agent Hebert by surprise. Zeke’s hospitality would permit him to take the town’s measure when he wasn’t trying to catch a killer and decide if it was a place he wanted to settle.

“I’m flattered,” Hebert said. “And . . . interested, I believe. No promises as yet, but I could use a change.”

That called for a toast. Once she would’ve resented being part of the secret meetings that dictated the town’s future, like she was better than everyone else. But it made up part of who she was, the family she came from, and no point in being angry when there were so many good things in the world. No, the Harpers weren’t perfect, but she loved them.