Stevie Lee (12 page)

Hal cursed himself for a fool, and still he couldn’t stop kissing her, holding her, teasing her with his hands and hips. A degree of pressure here, a slight thrust there, every move he made brought a whimper of pleasure from her mouth into his and drove him wild. She was hot and soft in his arms, giving as much as she got—and he was giving her everything. Everything except what they both needed, everything except what he couldn’t give her there. He tangled his hands through her hair, and felt her do the same, her fingers tunneling along the back of his neck and holding him for the sweet invasion of her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned, letting her have her way. It wasn’t enough, it could never be enough. He jerked her shirt from her jeans and slid his hand up inside to cup her breast. The heavy fullness, the satin and lace, set him on fire. He reached for the top button of her jeans.

“Hey, Hal. I poured the guys a beer, but Arlene wants a Man . . . hattan.” Hal’s head snapped up. His hand stopped just inside Stevie’s waistband. “Sorry, I’ll . . . uh . . . get her something.” The young man backed off, blushing to the roots of his sandy brown hair.

“Damn,” Hal said tightly.

“They’re having a management meeting.” He heard the boy explain at the bar.

“Right,” a masculine voice drawled, his voice easily carrying the short distance into the back room. “I wouldn’t mind
meeting
with Stevie Lee myself.”

“Forget the Manhattan, Pete,” Arlene said with a heavy sigh. “I think I’ll head up to The Emporium.”

Hal turned back to the pale, stricken face of the woman in his arms, on his thigh, wrapped around his neck. Never before at a loss for words, he didn’t know where to begin. He should have stopped, he should never have started. “Stevie, I’m sorry.”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out and slowly her wide, gray eyes filled with tears.

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s not that bad.” He attempted a smile and failed miserably. His heart was still pounding too fast, his body was still alive with wanting her. He had to let her go, but his hands refused. It took the lone track of a tear over her tawny cheek to convince them. But he no sooner lightened his grip, than she fled, disappearing into the hall before he reacted.

With a stifled groan from way back in his throat, he slammed his fist into the wall—and he let her go on running.

Stevie heard the crash of bottles, the sound spurring her to grab her jacket and run through the bar and into the street. On the boardwalk, she stopped, not sure which way to go. Wind gusted up and matted long tendrils of hair to her damp face. Her breath caught in her throat on the continuous sobs heaving her chest. Forget her heart, she’d lost her mind under his relentless seduction. She’d never felt anything like the physical frenzy he aroused and inflamed inside her. She must be crazy.

She was no virgin. She knew what men and women did together. At least she had thought she knew. Kip had been kind, loving, but he’d never triggered a response even half as passionate as Hal had. The man knew how to caress with his whole body, he knew how to touch her, how to kiss her. Lord, he knew how to kiss her, how to turn a mere meeting of mouths into a sexual experience of the highest order. In comparison she felt naive, even foolish. When all was said and done, Nola was right, her little sister couldn’t handle Halsey Morgan.

Stevie lowered her head into her hands and breathed deeply of the cool mountain air. If Pete had shown up even a minute later, he would have caught her with her pants down, literally. Acutely embarrassed by the thought, she dropped her hands and began shoving her shirt back into her jeans. Only half-tidied, she put her legs in motion, making tracks away from the Trail, and headed toward the noise and crowds of The Emporium. She wasn’t ready to face herself, not yet.

* * *

Hal closed the bar in under five minutes, a new record, and said to hell with fixing chairs, cleaning coolers, and restocking liquor. He needed to find Stevie, he needed to apologize in a way she would understand. It would be nice if he understood himself. Hell, he wasn’t a kid anymore, but he’d come on to her like an oversexed teenager. He’d deliberately not given her a chance. He’d deliberately pushed all her buttons—and it had been so very easy, too easy. The look on her face had told him volumes about her marriage. She and Mr. Dynamite had shared sex, but not lovemaking. In contrast he was demanding everything from her every time they got close. No wonder she’d run.

The realization brought another more disturbing thought to mind. She’d said she loved him, but from what he’d seen and experienced earlier, it was quite possible she’d confused sex with love. Despite his actions, Hal knew he hadn’t confused the two. He loved her all right, too much to let her muddle around alone with the feelings he’d dropped on her.

Locking the door behind him, he glanced up the street and saw her Mustang parked a block away. She hadn’t gone home, but that was where he was going. He was through with private talks in public places. Physically and emotionally, he’d reached his limit on interruptions. His absolute limit.

* * *

Moving slowly, the wheels of Stevie’s Mustang crunched on the gravel road winding through the trees to her cabin. The moon hung high in the night sky. The stars shone like diamond studs nested in black velvet. At the end of the driveway, Stevie pulled to a stop and lowered her head to the steering wheel. The two beers she’d nursed all night had done little to settle her nerves. If anything, she was more on edge now than when she’d run out on Hal.

A heavy sigh tightened her chest, adding to the ache he’d left, the one she hadn’t been able to shake. She turned her head sideways and looked down the meadow, her gaze settling on his cabin. The presence of his truck told her he was home, probably asleep, alone in his big four-poster. Another sigh followed the first. She should have stayed in town at Nola’s. Even being this close to him strained her resolve. She wanted him so badly.

So badly
. . . Stevie caught her lower lip between her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.
So badly.
She hurt all over with wanting him. The curve of her breast still held the warmth of his touch. Her mouth still felt the loving bruise of his kiss. She wanted to trace every line of his body with her hands and follow with her lips. She wanted to taste the sweet saltiness of his skin on her tongue. She wanted to hold him tight and tell him of her love while he . . .

“Damn,” she whispered into the silence, realizing she was driving herself nuts. But the images remained strong and clear: Hal’s sun-bronzed body pressing against hers; his muscular legs sliding around hers; a golden mane of hair falling over her face and brushing her cheeks as he kissed her again and again.

A wave of longing turned her next curse into a soft groan. She couldn’t go on like this. She was bound to burn up. She had a choice to make, a decision, and she had to make it now, or suffer through another night of dreaming restless dreams and turning her bed into a battle zone of sleeplessness.

Hal had given her one set of alternatives—fight or make love—and Stevie knew she didn’t have the energy for fighting. In her mind, though, she phrased the choices differently—take him or leave him.

Take him or leave him, Stevie. Decide.
She straightened her arms and slumped down in the car, resting her head on the back of the seat. She silently admitted she didn’t have the energy for leaving him. A month of working side by side with him, a few stolen, searing kisses, and he’d left an indelible mark on her untouchable heart. She’d never been more confused in her life, or more aware of a man. He invaded her mind with a powerful ease, filling every niche and cranny, leaving her no peace and no place to go without him.

Take him or
. . .
take him, Stevie. Take him and take a chance
. Her eyes drifted across the dark horizon and down the meadow to his cabin, and as she gazed longingly at the small house, the door opened.

Hal walked across the porch and leaned his shoulder against one of the upright posts supporting the roof. His feet were bare, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist where it was half-tucked into his jeans. His hair was pushed back from his face from the repeated, broad sweeps of his hands running through it while he’d paced the floor. He’d tried sleeping, but like every other night it had been an exercise in futility. All he really wanted was to be with Stevie. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. He stared out over the moonlit landscape and saw only wide gray eyes, a soft mouth parted in anticipation, and the fullness of her breasts cupped in his hands. He’d never been crazy in love before, but he knew what he felt was love and it was sure driving him crazy.

Frustration tightened his hand around the post and lowered his chin to his chest. Maybe it was time to leave the Trail. He had the tax money and a little extra. And it was a rare night when he didn’t get another job offer. If he didn’t work for her, he knew he could catch up with her no matter how fast she ran.

But he’d promised to stay. He also knew that if he left, she’d be losing the best bartender she’d ever had, and all the money he brought in for her. From the way she’d been treating him, he’d figured his drawing power was the only reason she hadn’t fired him. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. He’d been in some pretty tight spots before, but it had taken Stevie Lee to show him the true meaning of being between a rock and a hard place.

Where was she?
The thought echoed through the emptiness in his heart. She should have been home by now. No, he quickly amended, she should have been with him. She should always be with him.

Stevie watched him, watched the moonlight caress the muscular curves of his chest and the dejected bend of his head, until she couldn’t watch him anymore. Slowly she got out of the car, hesitating for a moment with her hand grasping the top of the door and one booted foot on the running board. She glanced once at her cabin, then down the meadow at Hal. What good was love if it wasn’t shared? she asked herself, knowing the answer was “No good at all.” Then she closed the car door and, step by step, followed her dreams down the pine-bordered path.

Hal’s head lifted at the sound, and through the shadows of the night he saw her coming for him. His breath caught, but only for an instant, then started up again deep and slow. Moonlight dappled the trail of wildflowers and the long, slender curves of her body as she appeared and disappeared between the trees, tightening his heart with every stride. He held himself very still as he watched her. She had to come to him.

On the other hand, if she changed her mind and started back up the hill, he guaranteed she wouldn’t get five feet. The truth brought a wry grin to his mouth, and that’s how Stevie found him when she stepped up on the porch.

The smile alone was enough to shake her confidence, coupled with his silence she found herself coming to a stop far short of her initial destination. Suddenly she felt quite foolish. What had she had in mind? A seduction? Throwing herself at him? And all because she’d let her emotions override her common sense and had worked herself into a dither of hormones?

Yes, she admitted, she’d had all of those things in mind. Her hormones were still frenzied beneath what she hoped was a calm exterior. He still looked incredibly enticing: The hard flat planes of his abdomen tightly muscled, causing her fingers to curl into her palm; the length of flaxen hair swept off his face in those twin mane-like arcs; the casual stance of his lanky body relaxed against the porch railing—and that midnight smile teasing his mouth and her imagination.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi, Stevie,” his rough voice added a depth and richness to her name unlike any other’s. “Nice night.”

“Beautiful,” she agreed.

Hal nodded, letting his gaze roam down her body. He noticed the subtle shifting of her weight from one foot to the other, the nervous tangling of her fingers through the ends of her hair, and the shy, downcast angle of her eyes. She’d come for him all right, and now that she had him, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. Fortunately he didn’t suffer from the same lack of ideas.

“Very beautiful. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen,” he broke the moment of silence softly, and his voice lowered to a raspy drawl. “Do you want to come over here?”

With the slightest of gestures he reached out his hand to her. Even with his encouragement Stevie found her boots glued to the porch.

“It’s been a long time,” she choked the words out around the growing lump in her throat.

“For me too.”

“I mean a very long time.”

His grin broadened, flashing white in the darkness of his face. “I think we can figure it out,” he said, teasing, lifting his hand higher. “It’s like riding a bike . . . only much, much better.”

The first step was the hardest. The second and the third came easier, and when her fingers touched his, he took her hand and gently pulled her closer.

“No running away this time, Stevie,” he said softly, the smile fading from his face.

She shook her head, sending a tumble of honey-brown hair sliding over her shoulders.

“No turning back.” His eyes darkened with a serious light, reflecting the intensity of his need.

Once again she shook her head.

“Okay, then,” he said with a sigh, leaning back against the railing. And slowly but surely, he reached out, removed her jacket, and began unbuttoning her shirt.

Eight

One by one, his fingers slipped the buttons through their holes, baring her skin to the cool night breeze. When the last button was released, he slid his hand inside her shirt and undid the front clasp of her bra.

Stevie felt the tremor of his fingers between her breasts, and then, ever so slowly, he pushed the soft pink cotton and wisps of satin to either side. The heavy ache she’d been fighting all night increased in intensity, winding down through her body and settling between her thighs. With just one touch, he had her back to the place where she’d been in his arms, breathless, wanting and waiting for more.