Texas! Chase #2 (16 page)

She opened the door a crack and peered around it. "May I come in?"

"What for?"

"I think we should talk."

He made an assenting motion with his shoulders and she walked in. His fledgling smug ness evaporated when he saw how she was dressed. It wasn't anywhere close to the bridal nightgown she had worn last night, but it was just as sexy in a different way.

The pajama set was pink-striped cotton knit.

Boxerlike shorts and a T-shirt top. The wide legs of the boxers made her bare legs look even longer.

Her hair was still pulled into a pony tail. She was wearing her eyeglasses. She was barefoot. She looked like a coed at a slumber party.

Except for her breasts. They were making pert, prominent impressions against her shirt, and they jiggled slightly as she moved from door to bed and sat down on the edge of it.

"Chase, I'm sorry I behaved so childishly earlier. I guess the pressure of the last several days built up until I had to blow or burst."

Since she had made the overture, he could be magnanimous. "I guess I've been on edge too," he grumbled.

"I took potshots at your male ego and that was uncalled for. Although, it would be dishonest of me to pretend that I was satisfied with last night."

She glanced at him shyly, then away. "You see, Chase, I expected a little more consideration.

I don't think I got any more thought from you than the condom you slipped on. I barely got equal time."

His jaw tensed. He was guilty as charged.

That made him that much angrier.

"I expected, wanted, more… more… I

guess the word is involvement. I wanted more involvement from you."

"You wanted an orgasm," he said, being intentionally blunt. By God if she could tromp on his masculinity, why should he be skittish about calling a spade a spade?

"That's the least of it, yes," she admitted quietly. "I would have liked more attention and affection, too."

"Then you should have hired yourself a gigolo instead of buying a husband. You could have paid him by the hour, or by the orgasm, instead of making such a sizable investment."

It wouldn't have surprised him if she had hauled off and hit him, which he secretly felt he deserved. If a man had dared talk to Sage like that, she would have gone after him with the garden shears. Devon too.

Instead, when Marcie spoke, her reply was calm and conceding. "After sulking all this time in my room, I reached the same conclusion."

Her unmitigated honesty disarmed him. Instead of getting any satisfaction from shocking her, he felt more rotten than he had before.

She was a hell of a lot smarter than either his sister or Devon. Her method of disarmament was more poised, but just as effective.

She took a deep breath, drawing his attention to those damn taut nipples again. "If I had wanted hearts and flowers, I should have hired a gigolo. But I don't regret the decision I made," she told him. "You're legally and physically my husband now. I'll try to be a good wife to you." Raising her eyes to his, she added, "So if you want me tonight—"

"No thanks." It rankled that she didn't appear disappointed.

"Did I wound your ego too terribly?"

"I'll live."

"I suppose if you can survive years of bull riding, you can survive me. Does this itch?"

Surprising him, she ran the back of her fingers up the center gully of his torso where the hair was beginning to grow back.

He sucked in a sharp breath and wheezed,

"No. Not yet."

"It probably will before too long."

"I'll keep you posted."

"Listen, Chase, the thermostat for the whole upstairs is in this room. My room is cold. Do you mind if I turn the heater up several degrees?"

She was already off the bed, moving toward the thermostat mounted on the opposite wall.

"Actually I do," he said contrarily. "I'm hot."

He shoved the sheet down another inch or two, until the thick hair on his lower abdomen was visible. He thrust one long, bare leg from beneath the covers. Only one corner of the sheet kept him decent. He was feeling ornery and wanted more than anything to get a rise out of her.

She didn't even flinch. "Oh, well, I certainly don't want you to be uncomfortable.

So in that case, I'll just get another blanket for my bed. I store spares in this closet."

She pulled open the louvered door of the extra closet in his room, went up on tiptoe, and reached for the top shelf where several blankets were folded.

Her pose made Chase's mouth go dry. It emphasized every lean muscle in her long legs. It raised her pajama top, baring a good three inches of midriff. The shorts were raised over twin crescents of derriere that he craved to cup in his palms while lifting her up and against him.

In danger of embarrassing himself, he reached for the covers and pulled them above his waist.

She dragged the blanket down from the shelf and hugged it against her with both arms. "There, that ought to do it."

He could swear that was a double entendre.

Sure as hell, she was referring to making him rock hard and throbbing. Her statement had nothing to do with extra blankets. Then again, his warped imagination was probably reading more into her smile than was intended.

"Good night, Chase," she said innocently enough. "Sleep well."

He didn't trust himself to speak.

II

Chase had very little to say for the entire month that followed.

Few had the courage to engage him in conversation. His sour disposition and perpetual scowl frightened off most who would otherwise have attempted it. Those who dared felt relieved if they escaped with their lives.

On a Friday night, sitting with his brother at the bar in the tavern known by locals merely as The Place, he didn't appear inclined to make conversation.

A half hour after his arrival, he was still

nursing his first bourbon and water. He was hunched over it like a stingy dog with a bone who didn't really want the bone but didn't want another dog to have it. He was morosely staring into the drink, which melting ice had turned a light amber.

"Well, there's nothing we can do but wait them out."

Lucky's comment only deepened Chase's frown. "That's what we've been saying for a month."

"They've got to make a decision soon."

"When I called last week, they said they would award a contract by the end of this week. This week they said it will be next week. I think they're giving me the royal runaround."

"Well, if there's oil down there, it's not going anywhere," Lucky said philosophically. "All we can do is wait them out."

Chase banged his fist on the bar. "You sound like a damn broken record. Can't you think of something else to say?"

"Yeah, I can think of something else to say."

Lucky replied testily, sliding off the bars tool.

"Go to hell."

"Wait a minute." Chase reached out and grabbed a handful of Lucky's jacket. "Come back. Have another drink."

Lucky threw off his brother's grip. "I don't want another drink."

"I'll buy."

"Doesn't matter. Your company stinks. I've

got better things to do than sit around and take your abuse."

"Like what?"

"Like go home to my wife, that's what.

Which is what you should be doing. This is the third time this week you've twisted my arm into coming here and having a drink with you after work."

"So? Now that you're married, you can't go out with the boys anymore?"

"I don't enjoy it as much as I used to."

"And one drink is your limit? Devon put a kink in your drinking habits, too, huh?"

"That's right. I'm so happy with her, I don't need any other kind of high."

"Oh, really? Does sex with her make you drunk?"

Lucky's hands balled into fists at his sides.

His deep-blue eyes turned glacial and his nostrils flared. Two years ago he would have already charged his brother and been throwing bloodletting punches. Devon had taught him that discretion is the better part of valor.

He no longer fought first and thought about it later. He had learned restraint, but Chase was testing the boundaries of it tonight.

Chase could all but see the numbers ticking across Lucky's forehead as he slowly counted to ten in an effort to control his short temper.

Chase set his elbows on the bar and plowed all ten fingers through his dark hair as he lowered his head.

"You don't deserve that.

Devon sure as hell doesn't." Holding his head

between his hands, he rolled it from side to side. "I'm sorry. Try to forget I said that."

He fully expected his brother to leave. Surprisingly,

Lucky returned to the stool beside him and sat down. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

"We need that drilling contract."

""Uh-huh. Besides that. Something's eating at you. Chase. Mother and Devon have noticed it too. Every Sunday when you and

Marcie are at the house, you're as uptight as a man sitting on top of a keg of dynamite.

The fuse is short and it's burning hot. What gives?"

Chase swirled the contents of his glass around several times. "Marcie," he mumbled.

"I figured as much."

His head snapped around, his eyes sharp and demanding. "Why'd you figure that?"

"Marcie's a lot like Devon. She had a life before you came into it. She's been an independent lady for a long time." Lucky tossed back the handful of beer nuts he'd scooped out of the bowl on the bar. "I'm not surprised she found the role of wife uncomfortable. Like a new pair of shoes, it doesn't quite fit her yet."

"What, are you kidding?" Chase grunted scoffingly. "She's so bloody good at being a wife, it's enough to make you sick."

"Huh?"

"Dinner is on the table every night at six sharp. She bakes cookies. God knows when because she's always so busy with other stuff.

The house is as neat as a damn palace. I lose something, she knows right where to find it."

"I'm relieved to hear it's working out so well," Lucky said cheerfully. "As you know, I had doubts that it would. Sounds like y'all are getting along great. What have you got to bellyache about?"

Chase swiveled on his stool to face his brother. Now that the spillway had finally been opened, there was a lot he'd held back that needed to be released.

"She's too perfect." Lucky merely stared at him as though he'd gone daft. "I'll give you an example. She told me that she liked to go through the Sunday paper methodically. Last week I deliberately scattered it all over the living room, reading a section, then dropping it and letting it fall wherever."

"Why?"

"Just to be provoking."

Lucky shook his head with bafflement.

"Why?"

Because I'm horny as hell! Unappeased horniness was a condition he couldn't admit, especially to a younger brother who had come by his nickname because of his uncanny success with women.

"I wanted to see if I could rile her," Chase said.

"Did you?"

"No. She didn't say a thing. Not even a dirty look. She just went around the living room, calmly collecting the newspaper and

restocking it so she could go through it the way she liked to."

"I don't get it. You're complaining about a wife who obviously has the patience of a saint?"

"Have you ever tried living with a saint?

With somebody so bloody perfect? I tell you she's just not normal. Why doesn't she get mad?" He blew out a gust of air. "It's nerve-racking.

I'm always on guard."

"Look, Chase, if that's all—"

"It's not. She sneaks up on me."

Lucky laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool. "Sneaks up on you? You mean like we used to do with Sage? Does Marcie hide in your closet and then when you open the door, she jumps out and hollers boo?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, what do you mean?"

Chase felt foolish now. He couldn't tell Lucky about the morning he'd been standing at his bathroom sink shaving, when he happened to notice Marcie's reflection in the mirror. He spun around so quickly, he'd nicked his chin with the razor.

"I'm sorry I startled you, Chase. I knocked but I guess you didn't hear me." She had rushed forward and set the stack of fresh towels on the lid of the toilet. "You're bleeding.

Here."

She ripped off a sheet of toilet tissue and pressed it against his bleeding chin… and held it there… for a long time… even though he was standing there buck naked and

growing hard from the delicate touch of her fingertips against his face.

And just about the time the tip of his sex grazed her, she whispered, "How does that feel?"

For several seconds the blood had pounded through the veins in his head. He finally gathered enough wherewithal to mutter, "Better."

He snatched up one of the towels she had carried in and wrapped it around his middle with the haste of Adam, who'd just been caught red-handed committing the original sin.

No, he couldn't tell Lucky that. Lucky would want to know why he hadn't just taken his wife to bed and made love to her until they were senseless. Chase wouldn't.be able to provide an answer, because he wanted to know that himself.

Ignoring his brother's question, he said, "You wouldn't know it to look at her, but she hasn't got a smidgen of modesty. She's brazen. Remember how much stock Grandma used to place on a woman's modesty?" He laughed bitterly. "Good thing she never met Marcie."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Leaning in closer, Lucky peered into Chase's feverish eyes. "You haven't started smoking funny green cigarettes, have you?" Chase gave Lucky's shoulder a shove. Lucky only laughed again.

"You're nuts. Marcie behaves like a lady."

"Not at home she doesn't. At home she parades around naked as a jaybird."

Lucky's interest was piqued. He cocked his head to one side. "Oh, yeah?"

Chase didn't notice that his brother's interest had a teasing quality. He was thinking back to a few days earlier when he had gone into Marcie's room with a shirt that needed a button replaced.

She had answered his decorous knock on her door, "Come in."