Stevie Lee (8 page)

With the toe of his boot, Hal swivelled her chair around, putting her between his legs. Her tiny shot of panic turned into a heart-pounding wave.

“Hal,” she said with a gasp, pressing back into the chair. Her braid slid over her shoulder, making a honey-colored ribbon down the front of her shirt. “Wha-what do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, Stevie, I’ll tell you,” he said in a soft drawl, leaning in close and resting his hands on the arms of the chair. “For a week and a half all I’ve been able to think about is kissing you again. . . .”

The rolling roughness of his voice pulled her ever-widening eyes up to meet the indigo sultriness of his.

“Hal, you promised.” Slight desperation made her voice weak, and, oh, so vulnerable to the power of his.

“. . . But I’m having trouble pulling it off.” His mouth lowered to her cheek, and his words blew against her skin. “I was hoping you’d help me, maybe we could practice for a while.” Every phrase drew him closer to the sweet nape of her neck. At her ear, he paused and whispered, “Come on, Stevie . . . help me.” Then his mouth opened.

The warmth, and the wetness, and the wildness of his touch exploded across her skin, drowning reason with desire. He was above her and over her, his hands linking behind her head, gently nudging her, coaxing her, asking her to turn her mouth into his.

“Hal . . .” His name whispered from her lips on a soft moan. “Please, no.”

“Shh . . .” His hand came around the side of her face, cupping her chin and making the decision for her.

More lost than she’d ever been, Stevie opened her mouth, and slowly sank into the heat and passion of his kiss. A depthless longing lifted her hands to the bare skin of his arms, just to feel the warmth and the hardness of him. Beneath her fingers, his muscles flexed and tightened, drawing her closer.

Without warning Hal had slipped in over his head. He’d started something he didn’t want to end. Sweet, sweet, Stevie Lee surprised him again and again with the hunger of her touch, the lazy track of her tongue in his mouth, the pressure of her knee on the inside of his thigh. A slow ache drew a groan of pleasure from his mouth into hers. He slid his arm behind her back and pulled her out of the chair and between his legs. He needed her closer, wanted her fully against him.

“Don’t mind me, kids. I’m just getting a case of beer for the cooler.”

Stevie instantly froze in his arms. Hal swore, first in Spanish, then Arabic—the little rat, he thought. The coolers were fully stocked.

Doug hefted the case and walked back toward the hall.

Thoroughly flustered and even more embarrassed, Stevie disentangled herself from his passionate embrace.

“Stevie,” he began.

“No. No, Hal. I can’t afford this . . . this situation. You, me, I can’t afford this.” She turned away, but Hal caught her hand and pulled her back into his arms. Lowering his mouth to hers, he reminded her of what they’d shared. Once again she responded, telling him everything he needed to know.

When he lifted his head, it was to cloudy gray eyes, tawny skin flushed with warmth, and a full mouth too breathless to close.

“You can afford me, Stevie,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m here anytime you want me—free of charge.”

Five

“Free of charge.
Free
of charge. Tell it to the Granby National Bank, Mr. Morgan,” Stevie muttered, tightening her one-handed grip on the steering wheel. The Mustang flew down the highway, a red streak burning up the road. Wind whipped through the open window and tangled her hair.

Depositing the week’s receipts had barely covered the Trail’s outstanding checks, a fact her banker had insisted on dwelling upon, pointing it out—over and over again. The man was uncanny. Inside of five minutes, without her even asking, he’d made it darn clear that her line of credit was drier than a desert in June. He obviously hadn’t studied Hal Morgan’s theory of economics.

“Free of charge.” An unladylike snort summed up her opinion of his offer. Unfortunately, nothing she’d tried in the last three days had been able to negate the effect of his last kiss. With very little effort, she could recall every mesmerizing, emotionally drowning second. She also remembered how she’d kissed him back. The thought alone was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks. She’d tried to forget how it felt to be held by a man, and it hadn’t been too tough. Kip’s charm had been his love of fun not his lovemaking, at least not with her—that probably was why he’d left. But Hal Morgan’s kisses, the growing spiral of sensuality he so easily pulled her into, refused to be forgotten. Damn him anyway.

The last thing she needed was another man, especially one of the traveling kind. If he thought he could breeze into town and fool around with a country girl for a couple of months, he had another thought coming.

The Mustang roared up behind a slow-moving trailer, and Stevie downshifted, gunning the motor for a burst of speed. The car delivered in seconds and she shot by the vehicle. The action matched her mood, reckless. If she’d had a dime to her name, she’d have turned around and headed the other way, out of the county, out of the state, out of the whole mess. The only thing awaiting her in Grand Lake was a line of suppliers she couldn’t pay, and Halsey Morgan. She didn’t know how she was going to face either.

Sighing, she put the car back into fourth gear and felt the responsive surge of pure power. A wide, silver ribbon of water flickered between the pine trees bordering the road, the first of the three-lake chain leading into Grand Lake. Midafternoon sunshine streamed over the mountains and turned the high country meadows into fields of greenish-gold, but Stevie didn’t see the beauty, only the sameness of a view she’d memorized long ago, a view she’d probably take to the grave unless a financial miracle fell out of the bright blue sky.

Typically, trouble not miracles was lined up in front of the Trail’s End. Stevie pulled in next to Hal’s hunk-of-junk truck and counted no less than three delivery trucks parked on either side, one for liquor, two for beer. The drivers, she knew, would be chomping at the bit, hanging around like a trio of vultures to pick her checkbook clean. Another heavy sigh blew from her lips, convincing her to sit in the car for a few minutes until she could find a cheerful mood. She’d take them on one at a time and do her best to talk them out of full payment. No, she thought, she’d do better than her best. If any one of the drivers walked out with more than a hundred of her dollars, she’d buy the bar a round—and she sure as hell couldn’t afford that. And Hal Morgan? She’d save him for last, after she had a few successes under her belt.

Straightening her shoulders with a deep breath, she got out of the car and walked into the Trail.

“Hi, Tom, Paul, Garrett. How are you guys doing today?” She deliberately left Hal out of her greeting as she strode into the bar, not trusting herself to look at him without staring at his mouth. Whoever had taught him how to use it hadn’t left anything out of the lessons, and despite his sultry-voiced confession, the man hadn’t forgotten a move.

Surprisingly, the drivers barely acknowledged her entrance. Tom lifted a hand, almost as if he was shooing her away. Paul mumbled a “Hello.” Garrett didn’t even give her a glance. The three of them sat at the bar, leaning forward with rapt looks on their faces. Confusion forced her gaze to Hal.

“Afternoon, Stevie Lee. How’d it go?” He was leaning against the cash register, bigger than life and smiling at her with the mouth that haunted her dreams. The rolled-up sleeves of his chambray shirt exposed dark brown forearms and the rhythm of slowly tightening and releasing muscles as he polished yet one more beer mug. Her glassware had never had it so good, she thought with a repressed sigh.

“Fine,” she answered noncommittally, watching the drivers out of the corner of her eye, waiting for one of them to pounce. “I’ll be in my office if—”

“So, you’re hanging there, and you hear that rumbling business,” Tom interrupted, his voice practically breathless, his eyes glued on Hal.

Old Tom Hanson breathless? Stevie arched a brow at Hal, and he grinned. Then he did something strange. Under the bar, where the other men couldn’t see, he jerked his thumb toward the back room. Confusion complete, her glance darted in the direction of his gesture. Was it a warning? Or was he trying to get rid of her too?

“And the other guy, John what’s-his-name, he’s slipping away on you,” Tom continued, obviously trying to regain Hal’s attention. “The rope’s a frayin’, the wind’s a blowin’, and ole John’s a slippin’.”

“And then you hear the rumble,” Paul repeated, hunching farther over the bar.

“Yeah, the rumble,” Garrett added his two bits, pulling his rag of a cowboy hat further down on his brow.

Hal turned his back to her, blocking her from the men’s view, and gave the silent signal again, all the while picking up the threads of his story.

“Well, I’ll tell you, twenty thousand feet up a Himalayan beauty there’s only two places for a rumble to come from, the sky or the mountain, and they’re both bad news.”

Finally Stevie understood. Without another word, she slipped around the end of the bar and into the hallway. If he wanted to run interference for her, fine, but she doubted if it would work for long.

Ten minutes later, most of it spent on the edge of her office chair, waiting, she silently conceded a point in his favor. Anybody who could hold the vultures at bay was well worth the minimum wage she paid. Fifteen minutes later curiosity got the best of her. Quietly she slipped back into the hall, staying out of view but not out of earshot.

“. . . the biggest, suckingest hole this side of the Waghi, driving us against the boulder and holding us tight. Charlie yelled ‘High side!’ and we were scrambling like mad.”

Stevie settled against the wall, head cocked to hear every hair-raising twist. In a week of working with him side by side, she’d never heard the same story twice, and although he obviously always survived, he never failed to put enough doubts in her mind to make her wonder each time whether Halsey Morgan would come out alive.

“Ted fell in the river and shot the rapids the hard way, getting tumbled around and bouncing off every rock. Lars went next,” Hal’s voice softened to a hush, “and that left me and Charlie. I could hear him praying in the back of the raft, and I’ll tell you, there’s nothing like hearing your team leader praying to shoot your confidence all to hell.”

The drivers chuckled in unison, and a wry smile tilted Stevie’s mouth. Tom, she knew, wouldn’t even dip his big toe in Grand Lake, let alone get on a river raft.

“So there we were, hanging on that boulder, most of our gear and our buddies floating off into a jungle, the waves drowning our boat, and Charlie praying.”

The phone jangled in her ear, startling her. Stevie jumped, cussed, and failed to make a run for the office.

“Back in a second,” Hal cut his story short and stepped into the hall.

If she only could have disappeared once in her life, Stevie would have chosen this moment. But she didn’t have time to pull the look of surprise off her face or get out of his way.

“Oops, sorry,” he whispered, accidentally knocking against her in the small space. He picked up the phone. “Hello.” Then he settled against the old Frigidaire, trapping her once more.

“Yes, Yes. Well it’s nice to talk to you too.”

Stevie wondered who he was talking to; she wondered how to slip by him. She started to move, but he had another idea. Very casually, he stretched his arm out and rested his hand on the wall behind her, bringing them chest to chest, with only the phone cord between the pearly gray snaps of his shirt and the blue plaid flannel of hers. The heat of his body touched her knee, her thigh, the top of her shoulder. She felt his slow, teasing smile blush her cheeks.

“A spectacular view,” he drawled into the phone, but his gaze remained fixed on her, the indigo depths of his eyes darkening with appreciation and setting off all of her warning bells. She took a step back, right into the wall.

“Very cozy. Thanks to Stevie Lee . . . yes, she is . . . very nice.” The deep roughness of his voice strummed across her emotions and echoed through her breasts as he followed her with a step of his own. Stevie squirmed, but only once, immediately realizing her mistake. His smile broadened, deepening the creases in his dark cheeks and feathering the whiter lines of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Definitely . . . a wonderful job . . . all kinds of fringe benefits.” The lazy, heated track of his gaze over her face came to rest on her mouth, and his own mouth softened, his smile fading. Stevie’s heart did a slow slide up into her throat, making it impossible to catch her suddenly disappearing breath.

“Thanks. I’ll look forward to meeting you . . . okay, good-bye.” Without taking his eyes off of her, he hung up the phone. “Hi, Stevie.” He whispered the words across her lips as he bent his head down. “It wasn’t the same around here without you today. I missed you.”

“Hal, please—”

He never gave her a chance to save herself. His mouth opened over her lips, his hand came up the side of her neck and cupped her face, and his hips rolled into hers, pressing her against the wall and into his heat.

What little rational thought she’d been able to hold onto fled on wings of stolen pleasure. Desire weakened her knees and pulled a gasp from her lungs.

“Yes, Stevie,” he urged her on, with his words and the warmth and pressure of his body. Then his tongue delved deep, tasting and giving a sweetness like none she’d ever known.

Stevie sank willingly into the sensual fascination of his kiss, feeling the muscled hardness of him beneath her hands, the gentle, insistent passion in his mouth on hers.

“He looks kind of busy to me.” Someone chuckled.

“Real busy.”

“Looks like a heap of trouble, if you ask me.”

Somewhere, way in the back of her mind, the intrusion registered, but just barely. The ending of the kiss registered completely, though, leaving her with a mess of unfulfilled physical promises, and her hands tangled through the golden silk of his hair.

Tom chuckled again. “Don’t mind us.”