Slow Fever (9 page)

Michael’s hands tightened on the wire he’d been splicing; his body tensed. He wasn’t certain he liked how his body jerked to attention when Kylie was near. He’d always been in control, even in lovemaking, and he sensed that if Kylie touched him— “Maybe some other time.”

“Okay, I’ll call one of the guys. They’ve asked me to fit them in and now I’ve got a free hour. Michael, at this rate, I think I can manage to pay for a second massage bench.”

“Fit one of the guys into your schedule?” Michael asked very carefully, thinking of where he’d like to fit into Kylie’s life. “I’ll be right there.”

Kylie held the door open to the small room. Michael moved into it warily. He’d had sports massages for strained muscles, the worst in a bout with a five-hundred-pound wife abuser. The scents of oranges and roses curled around him, a burning candle lighting the shadows. A large, sheet covered bench dominated the cubicle. Little touches of Kylie and Anna—bundles of dried lavender, two of Gwyneth’s small pots were filled with dried rose petal and orange peel potpourri. The small space seemed femininely soft when compared to the gym’s men’s massage areas. Michael was too aware of the intimacy within the room, of how close he would be to Kylie—without his clothes. The thought took his body lurching painfully and he breathed slowly, regaining control. Light, gentle flute music wafted in the room as Kylie spoke in her cool, even-toned professional voice, “Remove your clothes, as many as you feel comfortable doing. Lie on your back and cover yourself with the sheets. Relax. Think pleasant thoughts. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Michael undressed slowly. He wasn’t certain about him
self—how he would react to Kylie’s hands upon his body, her nearness, that sweet feminine scent. The small bottle of oil sitting on a shelf jolted Michael. He suspected that she would be using that—she’d said on the mountain that she was without her oils and aromatherapy essentials. The oils were for— Michael swallowed tightly. Kylie would use the oil on his body—touching him. Nettled slightly because Kylie didn’t seem affected by the knowledge that she would be touching his body, Michael eased down onto the bench. He tensed when he noted that the soft sheets had been warmed. The gentle rap at the door signaled Kylie. “Ready? Michael, I’ll come back when you’re lying on your back, okay?”

“This is fine.” Michael turned to look at Kylie over his shoulder. His body tightened sensually. She was dressed in a long-sleeved sweater, sweatpants, earth sandals, and wearing her curls in that silky froth on top of her head. She looked sweet and sexy and round and firm and very warm. “Be gentle.”

“You have to cooperate and relax. But until you have confidence in me—” She began gently massaging his scalp, finding his energy, and Michael felt himself drifting, giving himself to her fingers.

The sliding of the sheet down and upward until it only draped across his hips startled Michael. He held very still as the warm application of oil on Kylie’s hands zapped him. She gently stroked down one side of his body and began on the other.

A half hour later, Kylie noted, “Hmm, how unusual. I can usually make most people melt in a half hour. You’re gripping the sides of the bench and are more tense than when you came in. What’s bothering you, Michael?”

“You,” he said roughly, too aware of the steaming pres
sures of his body. He reached to grasp her wrist, preventing her from kneading his calf. “Don’t touch me again.”

She allowed him to draw her along the bench until she stood beside his head. She attempted to tug her wrist away and his hand only held her tighter. The stark contrast of that big male hand on her fragile wrist caused her to shiver. “You’re touching me, Michael. That isn’t how this works.”

“Forget the massage, Kylie. You’re tired. Is that what he did, work you until you dropped?”

Kylie closed her eyes against Michael’s harsh expression. “Let’s keep this on a professional basis, shall we? You found out all my problems that first night.”

“Right now, I’ve got a few of my own.”

“Like what?” she asked the heartbeat before he lithely pushed himself upright, still holding her wrist, and tugged her to stand between his knees.

“Like this.” Michael’s mouth descended upon hers and, before she could draw back, her body was answering the call of his hunger, her arms shot around his shoulders, her fingers digging in. She’d never been kissed so totally, and she opened herself to the taste, the excitement dancing on her lips, the hard feel— Michael’s hands lowered, skimming her body warmly and then reached her bottom. In the next instant, she was lifted, straddling him.

“Michael…” She floated as he nibbled on her lips, tempting her, then she captured him, framed his hard jaw with her hands and held him still for her mouth.

“Say it again…my name, like that,” Michael whispered as Kylie’s hands skimmed his shoulders and smoothed his chest. The slightly rough texture intrigued her, the hard muscles wrapped tightly around her simmering with heat, setting off her body.

“We’re going to fall off this bench,” she managed to say unevenly.

Against her throat, his chuckle was rich and full and Kylie treasured the unfamiliar sound. “You’re not so bad, Michael.”

His parted lips slowly cruised up to her ear, his breath pounding through her like a tropical heat storm. Holding her with one arm, Michael drew up one of her feet, eased off the earth sandal and slid away her sock. His fingers began massaging gently, working each individual toe and her arch, his light kisses brushing across her lips. “You’re very warm, dear heart.”

“This candle is producing too much heat.”

He chuckled again, the sound vibrating against her throat. “You’re very…uh…flexible, Kylie.”

“Yoga,” she explained, then gave herself to the floating sensation. She sighed, leaning her head upon his shoulder. When Michael released her hair, easing it around her shoulders, she sighed again. “You studied this, didn’t you?”

“Mmm. I’m learning.”

“Thanks. I’ll need to be more on top of it to deal with Leon and Sharon when they arrive— Uh!”

Michael placed her on her feet. He tossed her shoes and socks to her and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling at her. “What’s this about your ex-husband?”

“He’s going to work for me. He’s very good at technique—”

“Work for you?” Michael repeated as if he thought the idea had leaped upon her from outer space. “
Your ex-husband?
”

“He could do better, but he just can’t find a job that suits him. I can’t pay very much, but until he gets some responsibility skills, I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to the baby. If it isn’t diet food or instant, Sharon
doesn’t know anything about nutrition. I could work with her on that. For his part, Leon needs time to adjust to his new role as provider. Maybe I took some of that away from him. He’s capable, I do know that. He just needs to rearrange his priorities, and if there is a place to do that it is here, in Freedom Valley. He could get new insights from the men here. That baby needs to be safe, Michael, and well nourished. It’s just that they are in a spot right now and I can help. There’s plenty of room at mom’s house and she’s been eating right and getting plenty of rest—”

“No,” Michael said quietly, firmly.

She eyed him. “I’m going to help them. My mother never turned away anyone in need, and neither will I. Especially when one of them is an unborn baby.”

“I should have known.” Michael ran his hand through his hair, looking at her warily.

“I can use the extra help right now. Business is great.” She wasn’t certain of him now, as he studied her.

“Oh, I think it’s all just great. Everything will work out, right? Leon will grow up, Sharon can learn how to be a mother, and you’ll know that the baby will come into a better world, right?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, then, I’d like to help. I’d really like to help. They can stay at my place. Temporarily.”

“You’re kidding!” Karolina exclaimed in disbelief that night. She turned to Kylie, sitting next to her on the bed in Anna’s upstairs room. “Michael said it was okay for your ex-husband and his pregnant new wife to stay at his house?”

“They could have stayed here.” The room was just as she had left it at nineteen. The quilt on her single bed had been made by her mother, a feminine blend of pale blues
and pinks and creams. Pictures of her in high school as a cheerleader and as a graduate, ran across the antique dresser that her father had refinished for her. Kylie wiggled her toes, mourned the lack of a good reflexology treatment and a pedicure, and studied the rug her mother had braided from discarded clothing. She inhaled the fragrance of the dried herbs and lavender that Gwyneth had thoughtfully placed in the old glass vase. The hope chest her father had made her when she was young stood against one wall, an array of worn and beloved dolls propped over it. She’d filled it with embroidery, because she and Miranda wanted to please their mother. “I can’t bear to open my hope chest. It’s like a step back into time. I’m a different person than I was then.”

“Mmm. Don’t hand me that. More curves, just as caring and sweet.”

The springs on Kylie’s single bed creaked as Karolina raised her legs to the bed and crossed them. “Mmm. Motives. Why would Michael offer his house to your ex? No one has ever been in it, but his women and your mother. All of a sudden, it’s open house time? The pieces don’t fit. Why?”

“I simply explained to him that I was getting more business than I could handle, and eventually I hoped to take on help. Leon and Sharon are in financial straits now and with the baby coming…basically, Leon called and he needs work. He’s willing to take lower wages in return for a place to stay.”

“Where will Michael stay?”

“I suppose he’ll stay in his house. It’s just a temporary thing, but Michael was adamant once I told him that they might be staying here for a while. He didn’t think the stairs would be good for Sharon, since she’s pregnant, and he has a single level home. I thought his offer was very generous.”

“I’ll bet.” Karolina’s eyes narrowed on her friend. “He doesn’t want you around Leon, that’s why. I warned him off you after that kiss at the Silver Dollar, but I can see I’ll have to step in and—uh! You just hit me with a pillow! Bet you meals for a week that you can’t get into Michael’s house—uh!”

“Why would I want to? Uh!” Kylie grabbed the pillow that had just hit her.

“Bet he keeps files and has a hidden wall layered with weapons. He’s probably got shrunken heads and spears and bombs and I’d kill to get his black book. I’ll bet it’s got numbers in it that you wouldn’t find anywhere.” The phone interrupted her suspicions. She waited while Kylie answered the ringing telephone. Due at a mandatory library board meeting, Karolina let herself out while Kylie talked quietly with Miranda.

Kylie lay in the shadows of the room for a long time after ending the call with her sister. Miranda wasn’t releasing her problems and that meant they were deep and private and she was trying to work them out. Kylie’s meticulous, organized older sister missed their mother and Freedom Valley, but she wasn’t ready to come back…not just yet.

On impulse, Kylie retrieved a favorite rag doll from the top of the hope chest and cuddled it to her. She couldn’t bear to read her mother’s journals, the ones Tanner had carefully placed amid the pictures of their relatives on Anna’s cherished buffet. There were pages missing, Tanner had said, but they were meant for him and Gwyneth alone. He hoped that Kylie and Miranda would find what he had, the healing of home.

Kylie hugged the doll tighter, and used one tiny stuffed
arm to dry her tears. “Mom? I can’t bear to read them. I can’t bear to open this chest.”

Shh. Go to sleep. Everything will be just fine.
Was that the sound of her mother’s voice? Or was it the sound of wind hurling dried leaves against the windowpanes?

Leon and Sharon arrived on the first day of November. At eleven o’clock that night Michael lay on his sleeping bag. Filled with down, it spread across the narrow cot in the rear of his 1880s building. The two-story former Freedom Valley Mercantile Goods building creaked around him, scents from Kylie’s oils as disturbing as his thoughts. A civilized dinner at his house as Kylie made Leon and Sharon welcome had been frustrating. Leon was blond and calendar-model perfect…and shallow and spoiled and vain. At eight months into her pregnancy, Sharon, a frothy mass of bleached hair and smoothly tanned, muscle-honed body, had mourned her not-so-flat stomach and relaxing pelvic
girdle. She had picked at the wholesome tuna casserole Kylie had prepared while changing sheets and unpacking the couple’s clothing and washing and drying them. Sometime between all that, Kylie had met her appointment at Soft Touches with the coach of the football team—forty-year-old Don Rayburn wasn’t a match for the high school boys, but he had tried and now ached in every muscle.

While once Michael could have been distracted by his growing financial accounts, his desperation to succeed, he settled deeper into his dark, brooding thoughts. More comfortable alone and in the shadows, he forced himself to relax for the first time all evening. The insight into Kylie’s married life hadn’t been pleasant. Leon and Sharon were thoughtless and incapable of funding their lives, and they left an untidy trail behind them as they settled into Michael’s guest bedroom. Fearing that he would say too much, Michael had helped Kylie clear away the dishes. She had been too quiet and pale, and he knew how much she’d wanted the baby that Sharon now carried.

Furious and frustrated, Michael had gone to the Silver Dollar to mull the situation in the shadows with a draft beer. He needed the foamy suds as a special treat to himself while he brooded about Kylie. Toting giant sacks of hamburgers, fries and cola, the Bachelor Club had dropped over later to his shop to play poker. It was then that he received his issue of The Rules for Bride Courting.

Earlier that day, Fidelity Moore had stopped Dakota Jones and asked him to play messenger, transporting a ribbon wrapped copy of The Rules for Bride Courting to Michael. Fidelity’s choice of Dakota left little room for doubt—Dakota was known to be woman-shopping for a mother to the child he wanted. Since Michael was to be the recipient of the 1880s manual on the conduct of a man
seeking a bride, Fidelity had chosen Kylie’s suitor and potential bridegroom.

Michael snorted and stared at the book, propped up on his workbench and mocking him. He couldn’t see Kylie choosing him for the last dance of the Women’s Council’s quarterly socials—that forthright claiming of him would demonstrate to all of Freedom Valley that she’d chosen him to be her husband. Michael rubbed his forehead, an unfamiliar headache brewing as he rehashed the day and the people moving through it.

Kylie had described her ex-husband’s reasons for coming to Freedom to Willa, the mayor and the owner of the Wagon Wheel Café. Willa, in turn, had served coffee, pie and various lower-than-a-snake’s-belly versions of Kylie’s ex-husband. Dakota Jones and York Meadows planned to be extra friendly with Leon, inviting him to participate in the local rodeo. An introduction to Little Twister was planned—Leon just might enjoy the two-thousand pound bucking bull. Dylan Spotted Horse was disgusted by a man who bleached his hair, applied baby oil to his muscles and strutted across a stage in a “rig” that barely covered the essentials. On the other hand, Dylan thought massaging women for a livelihood would be “mighty fine.”

Michael glanced at the lights of the alarm system he had activated at his house. They remained constant and silent; his office door remained locked. Late night alerts from Rosa would be delivered on his pager and he would return her call.

Michael needed time to think about Kylie and her emotions. He preferred not to think about that first night, and her admitted lack of sex and simmering needs. While the dark ways of life had not touched Kylie, his innocence had been shattered in childhood. He’d seen the good and right dreams women should have twisted and torn into ugliness.

Used to dealing with business and not his emotions, Michael had tried to concentrate on the files now discarded beside his cot. It was his job as a silent partner to research potential troublesome clients applying for security. He usually enjoyed searching for minute details, background checks and weighing pitfalls of difficult cases, but Kylie and his emotions prevented clinical dissection of the facts. From a destitute background, Michael had been meticulous about his personal finances. When they’d asked him to do so, he usually enjoyed checking on the women’s accounts, making suggestions to help them rebuild their lives and financial security. Now, not even his investment portfolio held his attention.

At the moment, his own needs seemed to be in overdrive, outweighing his logical decision to protect Kylie from the storms inside him, the need to sink into her, to take, to make her essence a part of his. He’d tried to settle down for an all-night session with his electronic notebook, working on a new security system suitable for women’s shelters and halfway houses. One wrong move, one brush of his body against hers, those soft breasts…. Michael realized that his forehead was damp with sweat, his body aching. Tomorrow morning, he’d leave early, maybe up to the mountains for fishing and concentrating on getting his life back under control.

He frowned as metal crashed outside the back steps; Freedom Valley had few prowlers. Corralled to the back of the building in an area once used for drovers’ horses, Jack nickered. A key rattled in the old door lock, the brass knob turning slowly. Michael watched the rotating metallic gleam in the shadows. He hadn’t installed a security system in the old building, preferring to keep the antique hardware and original condition. The door opened a crack, outlining
the small, compact intruder. He wore a bulky jacket, a knit cap covering his head.

Michael had warned twelve-year-old Johnny Johnson about his mischief. The boy reminded him of himself at that age, except Johnny’s parents loved him too much, spoiling him, excusing his minor offenses. This time, Johnny would have something to remember.

Michael lay very still as the door closed quietly and the small intruder moved cautiously toward him in the shadows. The intruder’s legs bumped Michael’s cot and Kylie cried softly, “Oh, Michael. What happened? You must have heard me come in. Are you hurt? Why haven’t you said something?”

Stunned by the identity of the intruder, Michael lay still, trying to focus on Kylie’s face above him. For a moment, he thought he was asleep and dreaming. Then Kylie grabbed his flannel shirt, catching an amount of chest hair with it, and shook him. The taut hairs on his chest painfully reminded him that he wasn’t sleeping as Kylie’s urgent voice quivered in the shadows. “Wake up! Wake up! No. Stay here. I’ll get help. Oh, I’ll never forgive myself if something has happened to you.”

He realized that the hand he had raised to protect himself from the intruder had formed possessively around layers of clothing and a round, soft breast. “I’m fine,” he whispered unevenly, overcome by her uniquely natural feminine scent.

Dear heart.
She was his other half, filling his heart with warmth and his body with the need to hold her close and dear. She was the softness he’d searched for all his life, his completion, his sunshine in the shadows. He moved his hand cautiously, easing aside her jacket to caress Kylie’s breast. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you lying down? Why are you here? Why
aren’t you at your house?” she returned in a hushed whisper.

Instantly the air between them seemed to be charged with tiny lightning bolts that skittered around his body, hardening it. “I want you,” he said baldly, because he wanted to leave no doubt in Kylie’s mind about his intentions. “I don’t want to complain about you grabbing me, because it’s a compliment that you want me, too. But I’d appreciate it if you’d let go of my shirt. There’s a fair amount of hair being pulled by your fists.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Kylie whispered, releasing him. Reluctantly, Michael forced his hand away from her breast and sat up. It disgusted him that with Kylie, he’d made good his youthful nickname of “Fast Hands Cusack.” Her eyes were wide and silver upon him, her face too pale as he stood to rip away the knitted cap covering the hair he loved to touch, to hold, to smell.

“Why are you here?” she asked quietly as he hurled the cap away, not bothering to conceal his ill temper. “I stopped by your house to check on Leon and Sharon and you weren’t there. Karolina said you were having a beerfest at the tavern, dancing close with Fredricka, and playing poker all night with the Bachelor Club. Karolina suspects there is an orgy brewing. You wouldn’t have any part of an orgy, would you, Michael?” Kylie asked shakily, as if she couldn’t bear the thought.

Michael knew his body, and it wanted slow, satisfying lovemaking with one woman—Kylie. But he wanted promises and tenderness and tomorrows, too. At the moment, he didn’t trust himself with her. He detested his unpredictable, emotional, vulnerable state.

“An orgy. Super Snoop’s expectations are high.” He’d seen Karolina peeking around the corner of the women’s rest room at the tavern. Because Chuck Berry’s rock and
roll guitar was vibrating sound loud enough to be heard on the moon, Michael had leaned close to listen to Fredricka’s greenhouse electrical problems. She wanted a new strain of tulip bulbs to sprout faster for display and marketing purposes and correct lighting was essential. Statuesque Fredricka might have been curved and luscious and athletic, but it was Kylie who fitted into Michael’s arms and his heart. He rubbed his hand roughly on his jeans, but the warm softness of her breast remained to haunt him.

“I wanted to apologize for everything, for making you uncomfortable in your own home.”

Michael continued to study her. He didn’t want to think about trying to sleep in his own bed hours earlier, but Leon’s guttural sounds and rocketing, “Yes…yes…yes!” had preceded a shout of male release. To think of Kylie’s body with Leon made Michael want to tear the boards from the wall, the adobe bricks from the building, the heart from Leon’s pretty bodybuilder body. “So he and you were Yin and Yang, were you? Each complementing and supporting the other, fulfilling each other?”

“Not exactly,” Kylie answered, and studied the shadows of the room, avoiding looking at him. She flushed in the shadows. “This place has got so much history. Cattle drovers used to stop here for supplies and research potential brides…Leon and Sharon were quite busy when I stopped in—um…exercising, I think—but Leon asked me for the loan of my pickup.”

“You didn’t—”

“They’re penniless with a baby coming, Michael. I borrowed your mountain bike and rode into town. I needed the exercise. It was a beautiful ride— Stop muttering and scowling. You’re coming home with me. I feel too bad to leave you here when you should be in your own bed. You can ride Jack. No, you’re not staying out at the Boat House,
the new building Tanner built for his business. You’re going to be comfortable. We can work on your intimacy and relationship skills. We’ll watch football games and romantic old movies together. I won’t tell anyone if you drop a tear or two.”

“You heard me say I wanted you, didn’t you?” Michael asked unsteadily.

“Yes, of course I did. It’s obvious there is something humming between us by the way my heart starts to flutter at the sight of you and I get all warm and melty inside. But it’s also obvious that my sexual generators are highly charged and you’re an experienced man who knows women. But we can manage a few days at Mom’s until Leon and Sharon find a place of their own. I’m going to borrow money to help them rent a house and—”

Michael’s momentary cherished hope that Kylie could be seeing him as her Yang, her masculine half, her completion, slid into a cold dangerous pit. “Oh, no, you’re not. And they’re not staying with us, either. This isn’t a foursome and he’s not watching you do those yoga exercises.”

Kylie’s eyes flashed in the shadows, her mouth firmed. “I don’t need his advice. There is nothing wrong with my yoga technique. It’s wonderful for centering.”

“He’s a man, isn’t he?” Michael demanded, resenting the Kylie-crack in his control. He blinked as the thought of watching Kylie center within herself smacked him. She’d be beautiful, serene, and her center would be— He realized his voice sounded strangled when he repeated, “‘Centering.”’

Michael scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. He had no right to think of Kylie’s perfectly focused center.

“He never noticed when I did yoga exercises in the nine years we were married. He liked to watch his own muscles too much. But then most of that time we were in separate
bedrooms. He didn’t like sharing his bed—until Sharon, and that’s understandable. She’s very appealing and pretty…. You’re not telling me what to do, are you, Michael?” Kylie challenged softly, dangerously.

“You’re saying you don’t think you’re appealing?” Michael was disgusted by his tone of obvious outrage, his frustration that another man would not find Kylie as feminine and sweet and lusty and hot and earthy as he did.

He flipped over that thought. He didn’t want another man to be as fascinated with Kylie as he was. He wasn’t certain that he liked the power she had to upset him. Fragile wasn’t his safe and confident zone.

Michael strained for control. For him, marriage to Kylie would mean her in his bed, in his arms, him filling her every night, pledging lives and hearts and— He raked his fingers through his hair. “You’re damned appealing. Perfectly appealing. Always have been. Exciting, provocative, intelligent. There isn’t another woman like you on earth. You’re sexy and smart and talented, to say nothing of great curves—great breasts and hips—and a great mind and a loving heart. I love to hear you laugh, all low and soft, and the way your eyes sparkle and dance… And the graceful way you move—like an earth goddess on the prowl, ready to mate, like fluid, molten… It’s enough to make a man want to carry you off— Now don’t you think all that would make a man take notice?”