Always on My Mind (11 page)

Fortunately, she knew that as long as she never acted on it, he certainly wouldn’t. Talk about a completely unbendable, rigid guy. It was his way or the highway.

And
she
was definitely not a way he had any intention of going.

He couldn’t have said even a hundred words to her today, and they’d been working outside with each other for hours. She’d never said so little to anyone in all her life...or been quite so powerfully aware of someone else. Once he’d gotten her going on the fence and could be reasonably well assured that she wasn’t going to completely screw up her part of it, he’d left her to her own thoughts, only stopping by to look over her shoulder at her workmanship every half hour or so.

Amazingly, despite the fact that she didn’t have anything else to focus on but the patterns of the twisting wires in her hands, thoughts of Victor hadn’t assaulted her, hadn’t crept in to take over every last open space inside of her and turn light to dark. Maybe, she thought yet again, she was right to have come here to a farm miles from anyone she knew, from anything she’d ever experienced.

If it hurt her female pride a little bit that Grayson was as far from falling for her as any man had ever been, well, she didn’t care. She didn’t want a man in her life, anyway. Her whole life felt like it had been one seduction after another. Not only as a dancer and choreographer trying to get jobs, but also as a woman trying to get men to notice her.

Her mother had raised her to be more than that, but growing up in a family of such dynamic, smart siblings, Lori had needed to carve out her own niche early on.

Naughty
was what her brother Chase had christened her so many years ago, and she’d worked to fit that description every day since. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes had always been wild and sexy. She wasn’t someone who ever left the house looking anything but fantastic, even to get milk or the paper. When people looked at her, she’d made sure it was worth their while. And they’d
always
looked.

Out here on Grayson’s farm was the first time in her adult life that she’d ever forgone a blow dryer or let her skin be bared to the sun without at least mascara and blush and lipstick. She was living in jeans and T-shirts. The only part of her old life she still kept with her was the lace and silk she wore beneath her clothes.

The problem was that putting both dance and seduction aside left her feeling as though she was trying to hold onto the air as it flitted through her hands. Dancing and love had always gone together for Lori, from her first crush as a little girl on the teenager in her ballet class who could lift her so high, so effortlessly. All her adult life she’d fallen for other dancers and choreographers as she’d twirled and swayed in their arms on worn wooden studio floors and stages.

Only, when her mistakes with Victor had made her stop believing in love, she’d also lost her love for dancing. And she had no idea how to recapture either of those loves.

But she’d never been helpless before, and she refused to feel helpless now as she stood up to stretch her back and look out over the hills that rolled all the way to the ocean. She was struck with wonder yet again at the beauty of the land, the quiet, the ever-changing colors of the landscape—even the clouds, which were dark now and covered the whole expanse of previously blue sky.

Suddenly, a crack of lightning split the sky and Lori turned her face up to the darkening clouds just as they opened. It shouldn’t make any sense that she should find such joy in the freezing pellets of rain that pummeled her—anyone with a lick of sense would be rushing to take cover from the harsh elements—but she couldn’t have held back her laughter for the world.

Lori opened her arms and leaned back to take it all in, to let the force of the storm barrel into her, her sudden laughter joining in with the thunder and lightning.

The rain was shockingly cold on her bare skin as it quickly soaked through her T-shirt and jeans, but she swore she could feel it washing her clean, pouring over her arms where Victor had once touched her, drenching lips that Victor had once kissed. She’d thought she’d been so free, so wild her whole life, but every time she went back to Victor after he’d hurt her, walls had started to grow around her heart, building up an inch at a time until they’d held her trapped inside.

Now, with each boom of thunder, with each bolt of lightning, those walls began to crumble.

Only Grayson’s curse could have been louder than either her laughter or the storm. Lori was still smiling when she looked over at him, still lost in the wildness that surrounded them both. Besides, she was getting used to seeing that scowl on his face whenever he looked at her. She was even starting to think it was a little bit cute, truth be told, as though he were just a little boy who wasn’t getting exactly what he wanted right when he wanted it.

Belatedly, she realized he already had his tools, and hers, put away in the saddlebags, and seconds later was swinging onto the horse’s back. From up on the horse, he reached down for her.

Suddenly, she could see him as he would have been hundreds of years ago, a warrior up on his horse, big and strong. A man a woman could count on to protect her, no matter what.

But her romantic visions were yanked away a second later when he reached down and scooped her up into his arms so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to fight him. He grabbed her, brought her chest to his, and with nothing but one arm, he settled her on his lap, her legs over his...and then he was riding away with her.

It shouldn’t be sexy or romantic, damn it, and she also shouldn’t be getting turned on by having to hold on to his big muscles, or by the way the seam of her jeans rubbed up against his in just the right way, right where she’d been overheated since the first time she’d laid eyes on his too-beautiful face and his too-perfect body.

No, instead of being turned on by his barbaric behavior, she needed to be rightfully outraged by the way he’d yanked her up onto the horse with him again. Only, just as she was about to open her mouth to give him a piece of her mind over the sound of the rain crashing down on them, another crack of lightning flashed—close enough that they could actually see the bolt slam into a tree less than a quarter of a mile away. Thunder rolled in immediately afterward.

The horse reared and as they started sliding on the saddle, Lori automatically tightened her grip on Grayson, holding onto him for dear life with her arms and legs. He cursed again as he worked to keep them steady, his grip tightening around her waist so that she wouldn’t slide off him.

“We’re not going to be able to get back to the house,” he yelled over the rain as he quickly changed direction, heading down closer to the ocean rather than back toward the farmhouse. “I’ve got to get Diablo out of the storm.”

Of course all he could think about was getting his horse to safety. He clearly loved his horse, and planned on keeping him forever. Whereas Lori knew she had been nothing but a total pain in his rear, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

Still, he was so warm despite the cold wind and rain that she couldn’t help but bury her face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. No man had ever smelled as good as he did, like soap and sweat that came from working hard, like fresh grass, and rich soil, and clean, sweet rain.

When a thick drop of rain ran down from his chin into the hollow of his neck, how could she do anything else but lick out against it so that she could finally drink him in the way she’d been secretly wanting to all along?

Another shiver went through her as her tongue met his skin and she finally found out just how good he tasted. Only, this time it had nothing to do with being cold...and everything to do with the desperate wanting
she’d sworn she wouldn’t let herself feel.

When she’d come to Pescadero she’d thought she was dead inside, but Grayson had made her feel again, right away, despite knowing better. And now, the even bigger problem was that Lori had no idea how to keep some walls up while others fell. All she could do was let them all break to pieces, one by one, and pray that her heart would be strong enough to withstand being out there in the open again.

Of course, it wasn’t her heart she was thinking with as she went to take another taste. She had never been ashamed of her natural sexuality, and didn’t know how to start tamping it down now. Not when she was achingly hungry for Grayson’s touch, for the wonder of being his other half as they came together.

Lori had always been in tune with her body, had always automatically translated everything she felt, everything she saw, into dance. Until things with Victor had gotten so bad that she’d all but forgotten how to read or speak that language.

But now, as she held on to Grayson’s hard muscles, as she felt the pounding of the hooves moving through her while his horse galloped through the wet fields, as she gazed out through the rain to the raging ocean at the bottom of the cliffs, she finally saw through the eyes of a dancer again.

The rain had become sparkles of light pouring down from the ceiling of an auditorium over dancers dressed in the blues of the sky and the green of the grass and the reds and oranges and yellows of the flowers. Giving in to the storm, they danced, wild and beautiful. She could see a lone male dancer moving through them, solid despite the power of the storm as he reached for one of the female dancers, who was a colorful wildflower just breaking loose to go flying away, away, away.

The picture of the dance Lori was painting in her mind’s eye was so clear that she knew the male would cradle the female against him, hold her steady...then finally let her loose to fly again when she was stronger and the beautifully wild storm had abated enough that it was safe for her to be set free.

And just like the wildflower in her vision, as the wind whipped through her hair and the rain pelted down on her limbs while Grayson held her steady and safe on top of the fast-moving horse, Lori felt as if Grayson had just given her back the freedom she’d been afraid was lost when she’d left Chicago.

Lost in her visions, Lori was surprised to realize the horse had stopped galloping and Grayson was on the ground. She immediately felt chilled without his arms around her. Fortunately, she didn’t have long to wait for him to touch her again, because his large hands were on her waist and he was lifting her off the horse’s back to the ground.

For a moment everything got mixed up in her head, the man she’d been living with for nearly a week and the man from the dance in her visions. When her feet hit the ground again and she blinked up at him in the rain, the world stopped spinning as she stared into his eyes.

His gaze was dark and mysterious, just like always. Only this time, instead of stepping away from him, she had to reach up to stroke his face, had to feel beneath her fingertips what she’d just tasted moments ago.

She watched as fire leapt in his eyes, felt the vibration of his groan, felt the heat and purity of his desire for her move through him and into her as he turned his cheek slightly to press into her hand. But, too soon, he wrenched himself away from her.

“Get inside the cabin while I take care of the horse.”

His words were loud to be heard over the storm. They were hard, too. As hard as anything he’d ever said to her, and even though she thought she’d been doing a good job of blocking his grunts and growls, this one sentence pierced her. Enough that she wanted nothing more than to get away from him for a few minutes to try to regain her bearings.

And to stop seeing him as she had in her vision of the storm-turned-dance—as strong, as gentle, as nurturing.

She’d been stupid too many times before with men, had let her body and heart take her down a path that she should have run from instead. She wouldn’t do it again.

Especially not with Grayson.

Chapter Eleven

Grayson took Diablo’s saddle off and brushed him down, then gathered up wood from the pile in the rack under the roof overhang and carried the heavy load inside.

And all the while he refused to let himself remember how Lori’s tongue had felt against his skin.

Or the way her lithe curves had fit against his while her toned legs were wrapped around his waist and her strong arms were locked around his neck.

Nor would he let himself remember that she’d looked like a beautiful witch who couldn’t have been more pleased by the storm she’d brewed up.

And while he was at it, he would also force himself to forget how beautiful the sound of her laughter had been...and that even in the middle of the rain, that sound had warmed him better than the sun ever had.

It was the first time he’d seen her laugh like that, with her whole body, her entire heart and soul behind the happy sound. When she’d opened up her arms to the storm and tilted up her face to let the rain wash over her, she not only looked like she belonged on his land, she looked so beautiful that he’d felt as if something inside of him had been struck by lightning.

He yanked open the door to the old log cabin, harder than he should have considering the age of the hinges. Early settlers had come here and laid down stakes and dreams in the West. Harsh weather often tore through this part of the coast, but right in this spot, the mountains and trees gave enough shelter from the worst of the rain and the wind. From the porch, there was nothing but open land and ocean as far as the eye could see.

Grayson had never come here with anyone else, had kept it as his own private space all these years, had never even been tempted to bring anyone else here with him.

Lori Sullivan was the last person he wanted in his sacred space. She was too loud. Moved too fast.
Needed
too much.

Grayson gave endlessly to his animals. To his land. But never again did he intend to give any part of his soul to a woman.

Inside the cabin, he couldn’t find her at first, not until he realized she was kneeling in front of the fireplace, lighting matches that were blowing out immediately. There was a pile of wasted matches on the ground in front of her.