Taking Her Time (10 page)

“My, my,” she whispered in a tone of awe, which did truly please him. “Would you mind if I took a shower?”

“I like your fragrance the way it is—all woman. But suit yourself.” That would cost him, he decided uncertainly, especially if Carly decided to change her mind. To indicate his thoughts on the subject, he found her hips and locked his fingers onto the softness there. “You smell real good, Carly,” he stated unevenly.

“So do you, Tucker.”

He started to walk her backward into his bedroom, but Carly put a firm hand on his chest and inched around until she was pushing him backward. He accepted the maneuver, because more than anything, he wanted Carly to choose how she came to him.

They stood beside the bed, the back of Tucker's knees against it, looking at each other. “You can change your mind,” he offered, praying that she wouldn't.

“So can you.” Her tone said she was gauging him, deciding where to start—or when to stop. Her hands smoothed his face, sliding over his eyebrows, his lashes, his cheekbones and trembling on his lips.

He kissed her fingertips and gently suckled the one that came prowling over his lips.

More than he wanted air, Tucker needed Carly to show him that she desired and cared for him still; he'd know the truth in the way she took him. She'd always given him one-hundred percent, but there was something new and mysterious about her now…and even more fascinating.

“I've been reading a lot about women taking the sexual lead in magazines,” she whispered. “They're very educational.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You won't get scared?” Her fingertips walked downward slowly, her eyes locked to his.

“Ah…” He wanted to talk, say something sweet and tender, but that was difficult. Her hand had gloved him briefly before moving to smooth his chest.

“I…do…think I want that shower, if you don't mind. I'd like to compose myself…before. I'd like to understand the whys better as we go along. Why we are the way we are with each other. I'm afraid I could get too carried away and forget why I need to understand. If you don't mind,” she repeated carefully.

“You need to do that right now, do you?” Despite his hunger, he knew that Carly always evaluated a project carefully, before taking it on. And just now, he truly wanted to be taken on, in the physical sense—and maybe in the tender way, too.

All he had to do was to let her take the lead and do her part, like she wanted—if he could. Maybe he had always pushed too hard and just maybe Carly, being the competitor that she was, needed angling room to know how she felt. Right now, it was hard—everything was hard—Tucker corrected, to think of anything but holding and cuddling her later.

“Go ahead,” he managed, though his body might burn a hole into the bed's mattress while he waited for her.

C
arly stepped into the shower. She changed the shower stream from pulse to spray. She didn't need any exterior vibrations when her interior was already pounding like jungle drums.

Tucker's face had that honed, primed look; his high cheekbones looked as warm and hard as the rest of him.

A shampoo would take too much time. Carly went straight for the shower gel. In a way, she felt like a bride. But in another sense, she felt like an experienced woman who hadn't used all of her emotions, who hadn't tested herself fully against a man she trusted.

Tucker was an all-man testing site. If she did burn him out of her system, then it was a “go” for her grip on life. She would then understand why thoughts of Tucker always leaped to life when she was with another man.

She inhaled the steamy herbal fragrances and cooled the shower's temperature. It wouldn't do to come at Tucker too fast and eager. She wanted to seduce. To revel in her power as a woman. By the time the night was finished, she hoped she'd understand the hum of her senses when Tucker looked at her with those stormy blue-silver eyes.

With a sigh, she decided to enjoy the seduction of Tucker, ex-husband.

As she applied body cream, Carly studied herself in the steamy mirror, a woman now, certain in her course—and powerful and feminine at the same time—an equal participant set on equal opportunity, taking just as much as giving. She remembered how his notes on the valentines from her had reflected his pain. She picked up a tube of lipstick and decided that she would give him a great big valentine to remember their night together. Or if Tucker didn't notice, she would have physical proof that she had scored—well, other than the sated fuzzy tingling that she was certain would be an aftermath of Tucker's lovemaking. Then they could flow separately into the rest of their lives, leaving behind the darkness of the past.

She carefully drew a big heart between her breasts, overflowing a bit onto the twin softness. She blotted the lipstick carefully; it marked her advent into an equal partner in pursuit. It also surpassed any of the valentines they'd given each other in the past. Sexual games hadn't been their agenda, but maybe their eagerness to have each other ruled out everything else.

Carly decided that she needed to remove her toenail polish and apply new, just to mark her new start in life as a woman taking an opportunity when it presented itself. She smiled as she sat, waiting for the polish to dry…because Tucker did look like six-feet-two-inches of perfect opportunity, all revved and ready to go.

The brisk knock on the bathroom door was followed by Tucker's “Carly? You'd better get out here.”

A woman in control of a situation, understanding herself better than she ever had, Carly smiled softly. Tucker desired her, that was evident, but she did truly need to seduce him. She'd always been capable and now she was ready—at the second rap, she answered, “Do not hurry me, Tucker.”

“Get your butt out here,” he stated darkly, unlike the loverlike tones she had hoped to hear, the little sweet talk that Tucker had never given her, and that she wanted to wring from him tonight—those intimacies every woman needed.

“In a minute,” she singsonged. She studied herself in the mirror and smiled at the red heart Tucker might never see. It would mark her trophy-win of the night. A mark that Carly, the huntress, had scored.

She'd find her diary, and finish it with a memo that said, “I got every bit of what I wanted.”

The door jerked open and Tucker's big hand thrust the red sweater and jeans she had worn into the bathroom. “We've got company.”

“Tell Norma to go home.”

The door shut and Carly dressed quickly. She decided she would tell Norma herself.

In the brightly lit living room, Norma was hitching up her uniform belt in her officer-on-duty role. Bits of face cream and pink curlers in her gray frizz spoiled the look.

Gary Kingsley, looking road-weary with weekender bag in one hand and a laptop briefcase in the other stood next to her. Dressed in a cotton shirt and wrinkled khakis, his up-town eyeglasses, and his cutting-edge attitude, Gary looked harried and tired and threatening. Tucker, his muscled, tanned arms crossed over his bare chest, wore only his jeans and a scowl. His slitted, steely stare ripped down Carly's sweater—where her braless nipples peaked against the light cloth.

“Did you lose something, Carly?” Norma asked. “This man says he knows you. Mrs. Storm called about an unknown car and prowler. Took me just two minutes to get dressed and out the door. Another minute here. The perp offered no resistance when I collared and frisked him.”

The telephone rang and Tucker jerked it from its cradle. “Yes, Mrs. Storm, everything is fine. Carly will call you tomorrow.”

“I drove all the way from Denver in one day to check on you. Who is this?” Gary said, while he appeared to be sizing up Tucker. Tucker was doing the same to Gary.

“This is my ex-husband. He lives here. Temporarily. Tucker, this is Gary Kingsley.”

Gary dropped his bag and the men moved closer to shake hands. A shade taller than Tucker, Gary looked delicate beside Tucker's workman-muscled body. The men gripped hands—tightly—and Gary's forced smile indicated pain. They resembled two battling stags, locking horns over the female in heat nearby—which had been basically true, Carly admitted uncomfortably.

She did a double take at Tucker's wolfish smile as they stepped apart. Gary stealthily rubbed his hand against his side.

“You must be tired,” Tucker said pleasantly. “Carly, why don't you get the bedding for your friend? He can sleep on the couch. You two must have a lot to talk about. I want to check on the new barn in the morning and I have things to do. So you can have all day to show Gary around town, Carly. I'll make extra coffee in the morning for you.”

Just as the mighty slugger of Mudville had struck out, so had Carly.

Tucker knew exactly what he was doing, making her face the reality of a potential lover and an aroused ex-husband. If he'd been rude, she could have had reason to—“Go home, Norma,” she ordered and turned to smile at Gary. If Tucker could play games, so could she. “So glad you could come, Gary.”

“I was worried about you, Carly. Your messages sounded so desperate.”

“Yes, well, we can discuss all that in the morning. Let me get your bedding….” She paused to look at Tucker, who was unfolding the sleeper couch.

“I'll put out fresh toweling,” he said cheerfully. “I'll just get that bedding. And how about a beer for you, Gary? Just a little something to wind down on? There are earphones by the sound set, they should reach to the couch and you can relax—or you can stay up and talk with Carly. Don't worry about cooking tomorrow night, Carly. I'll pick up a few things on the way home and we'll have barbecue.”

After dumping the bedding on the opened sleeper couch, Tucker left for his bedroom. Despite his pleasant host manner, his bare muscular back had a definite bristling male look. The door closed with an ominous too-quiet click.

Gary glared at Carly. “What's going on?”

“We've been friends a long time, Gary. It's a lot to understand, I know. But this is
my
grandmother's house, and I'm going to get it back. Tucker was in residence when I came back on Friday, and we're just discussing how to settle things.” If a woman ever felt foolish, it was Carly, standing and talking to her potential husband with a big red heart meant for her “ex” painted on her chest.

“Where do you sleep?” Gary demanded as he leaned to one side to peer into her bedroom.

“There, where I always stayed overnight. Tucker has his own room.”

“Cozy.” The single word was a derisive sneer and too much at the end of a long, long day, which had turned into a three-o'clock morning.

“Don't you have something to say for yourself? I came all this way, because I was worried, and find you shacked up with your ex-husband? I thought we could have a little time away from Denver and work, and now I find you…
like this.
”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, clicking it rapidly with his thumb. While he answered his messages, Carly made Gary's bed.

She wondered if a cell phone could distract Tucker from greeting her and kissing her and holding her…. She doubted that anything could distract Tucker from making love with her—unless it was another man sleeping on his couch—her boyfriend and potential husband…who had come to vacation with her.

The lipstick on her chest was the no-fade kind; she'd be wearing that impulsive valentine for a long time.

Gary looked so uncertain and tired as he finished his calls that she couldn't help coming to kiss his cheek. She hugged him. “You'll feel better after some sleep.”

“I just wanted to know that you were safe,” he stated unevenly. “I've always cared about you. There was always a part of you that I couldn't get close to, and maybe it's here. With him.”

Gary looked wounded now as he held her hand. “Have you had sex with him? The kind that means something between two people?”

He wasn't menacing at all, just a friend who had come a long way to make certain she was safe. She owed Gary the truth and gave it to him as gently as she could. “Not yet. But I'm hoping. He's probably going to be a little difficult right now. But he's been my best friend since I can remember. He stuck up for me when I wanted to play on the boys' baseball team. He made a really nice high school sweetheart—but things got a little uneasy when we got married. There was a big incident that could have looked really bad for me, so he stepped up to bat like he always did when I was in trouble. He married me. I married him to protect Tucker from my father—who was a righteous kind of guy.”

She paused and hearing her own words, understood herself better. She explained her feelings slowly. “All of it wasn't clear until a few hours ago. I wasn't ready years ago, and we made mistakes. It's time to sort them out now. He's always been in my heart, I guess. We know we don't want to go back—I guess, speaking for myself. But I'm not too certain what I want now, either. Except Tucker. He's solid. I'm a fast game. I speed him up some and he holds me to the ground. It's sort of a yin and yang between us.”

Gary looked at her blankly, then he sank to the couch. He held his head in his hands. “It's been a long day.”

“Tomorrow, I'll show you where I grew up. I'm the town legend,” she said to lighten his dark mood.

“I believe it,” Gary stated firmly.

In her bedroom, lying on the mattress and looking up at the four-posters above her, Carly heard Gary begin to snore gently. The sound developed into a full nasal symphony. There was no way, without passing by Gary that she could reach Tucker's room. If she could, she'd ask about his gracious-host motives.

Carly turned and twisted in the sheets. When she awoke she floated between reality and the dream of Tucker making love to her. She hoped the sounds echoing in her head weren't the remnants of her own orgasmic purrs. She lay quietly, coming awake. She listened to Livingston squawk in the living room and the sound of men's voices rumbling quietly through the house.

Tucker jerked open the door before she came fully awake. “Gary and I are going fishing. You're not invited.”

She flopped over on her stomach, preparing to meet another exhausting day facing the past, an ex-husband and Gary, who probably should have been perfect for her—but who was just a friend now. “I am not cleaning your fish.”

Carly decided to hide throughout the day. Livingston, happy to have her near, squawked and talked regularly. His weight on her shoulder was a comfort she needed, his beak prowling through her hair was tender and soothing. Determined to put the men out of her mind, Carly worked on her laptop and made business calls—not answering any incoming ones from Norma or Mrs. Storm. The revelation that she had shared with Gary tangled around her. Exhausted, she slid into Tucker's bed for a nap.

The men came swaggering home, bragging about the size of the ones that got away and carrying a six-pack of beer. The new friends ignored her throughout the dinner they cooked together, clearly enjoying each other. Then they did dishes together and settled into television while debating baseball stars' batting averages.

In her bid to escape, Carly came out to lie on the front lawn and to look up at the stars. After a while Tucker and Gary came out, and they lay on either side of her, each taking her hand. “I'm leaving in the morning,” Gary said. “But I'd like to come back to visit occasionally. If that's okay.”

“Okay with me,” Tucker said cheerfully. “How about you, Carly?”

“Fine.” She didn't try to disguise her peeved tone. “Tucker, do you know where my diary is?”

“Sure. But you're not getting it. Anna Belle said I should keep it, that it held the heart of you, and I'm not letting that go until I'm ready.”

She flipped over on him in a minute and straddled him, pinning him to the lawn. Carly ignored Gary's roaring laughter. “Give it to me.”