Cowboy with a Cause (11 page)

They were the words she’d longed to hear, words that chased away the fear that the night had held, promising to replace it with something wonderful, something beautiful.

“I want you, too.” She turned over in his arms and faced him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Unless you intend to eat my foot, there’s no way you’re going to hurt me,” she replied with a touch of humor. “Adam, don’t treat me like an invalid. Treat me like the fully functioning woman that I am.”

She barely got the words out of her mouth before his lips touched hers. Gently at first, his lips teased and tormented, until finally she opened her mouth to encourage him to deepen the kiss.

And he did, his tongue delving inside to battle with hers as a roar of excitement resounded in her head. His arms tightened around her as the fire in his kiss half stole her breath away.

It had been so long, so achingly long since she’d felt wanted and the passion in his kiss soothed some of the jagged edges that had been inside her since the day she lost her ability to walk.

In bed with him it didn’t matter that she couldn’t walk. They were equals as they lay prone in each other’s arms, drinking their fill of each other with their mouths.

He kissed with a natural mastery that thrilled her, and when his hand stroked down her back along the slick material of her nightgown, it warmed each place it lingered. She arched against his palm, like a cat needing to be scratched.

And she needed to be scratched. She needed to be scratched and stroked and loved until she forgot that she was damaged goods, until she forgot that there would never be a man permanently in her life. She needed this night with Adam. Just this single night was all she asked for.

As he finally pulled his mouth from hers, she stroked down his strong chest, loving the feel of his hot skin and beating heart.

He moved his mouth down the column of her neck, nipping and teasing with his lips against her sensitive skin. She fought a shiver as his mouth found her collarbones and skimmed across them to slide lower...lower until his mouth captured the tip of her breast over the silk nightgown.

She hissed at the erotic feel of the material heating beneath his mouth. Her nipples grew taut as he moaned deep in the back of his throat.

His hands covered her breasts as his mouth found hers again, this time in a kiss that screamed of passion unleashed. He was close enough to her that she could feel his erection pressing against her hip.

Her. He wanted her. If there had been any doubt in her mind, it was banished by the physical evidence of his desire. Suddenly she wanted the few clothes that remained a barrier between them gone.

She sat up and he did, as well, and she knew he had no idea why she’d halted what was happening. She reached down to the bottom of her gown and worked it up her body, exposing the pale pink bikini panties she wore before she finally pulled the gown over her head and tossed it to the floor.

He remained sitting up next to her, his eyes glittering like a wild animal’s in the spill of moonlight. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with a reverent awe. “You take my breath away like nobody has ever done before.”

She smiled as wave after wave of pleasure stole through her. “I hope you have enough breath to take off those boxers, because I want to feel you naked against me.”

These words spurred him into action. He ripped off his boxers as if they were filled with fire ants and she pulled off her bikini panties. He rolled over to once again take her in his arms.

She reveled in their skin-to-skin contact. As they began to explore each other’s bodies, she quickly learned that if she touched his inner thigh, he groaned, and if she gently raked her fingernails across his back, he moaned.

And it didn’t take him long to discover that a stroke up her inner thigh made her tremble with anticipation, that his mouth latched on to one of her nipples caused her to tangle her hands in his hair and emit sweet sounds of pleasure.

Hesitant touches became more sure, and their passion grew in intensity, making them both breathless and frantic with need. He moved to the side of her and with a hand caressed her stomach, down to the place where she needed him, wanted him most.

As he found her sweet spot and began to move his fingers lightly against her flesh, a rising tide of intense pleasure drove everything out of her head except the need to ride the wave. Her hands clenched the bedsheets on either side of her as his mouth covered hers, breathing in her gasps and moans of mindless need.

And then she was there, on top of the wave, riding it out until her body shattered apart and she was boneless and mindless.

As her senses began to return, she reached down and circled his engorged hardness with her hand. A swift intake of breath was her response.

“Don’t,” he said urgently. “If you touch me anymore, I’ll explode, and I suddenly realized I don’t have any protection with me.” Frustration rang in his voice.

“I’m on the pill,” she said, “and I don’t sleep around. It’s okay, Adam. Please, just make love to me.”

Her words obviously satisfied him, for he moved on top of her and positioned himself between her thighs. He hesitated only a moment. As she grabbed his buttocks in her hands and arched beneath him, he moved forward, plunging himself into her.

She cried out with the sheer wonder of their connection and for a long moment neither of them moved. He hovered above her, his neck muscles taut and his eyes closed. He looked beautiful, and her heart swelled so big, it made it difficult for her to breathe.

As he began to move against her, into her, she found her air, and she gasped again and again as he slid deeper and deeper with each thrust.

She wanted him deep, deeper still, and she raised her legs upward. Her action stopped him and he stared down at her, as if amazed that she could move her legs at all.

His stunned surprise lasted only a second and then he moved his hips once again. The friction of their bodies thrusting together created a new wave inside her, a wave greater than the one before.

She cried out as she felt the wave coming closer...closer still and he cried her name in response. She was drowning in pleasure as the force of her climax washed over her and she was vaguely aware of him stiffening against her with his own release.

He collapsed to the side of her, his breathing still rapid but beginning to slow. She matched her breaths to his until they both were breathing in a normal rhythm.

He rolled over on his side to look at her. “That was beyond amazing.”

“I was thinking along the lines of earth-shattering,” she replied.

His laugh was a low rumble, which she felt in the pit of her stomach. “I like that.” He paused and then continued, “I didn’t know you could move your leg.”

“Most of the damage is from the thigh down. I have little mobility of the leg. I just can’t stand and I can’t feel my foot. That makes crutches pretty much out of the question.”

The subject of her foot stanched some of the happiness she’d momentarily felt. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she pulled herself out of the bed and into the wheelchair.

The seat of the chair felt particularly cold against her bare butt as she reached down and grabbed her nightgown from the floor and then wheeled herself into the bathroom. Once there she freshened up, avoiding her reflection in the mirror that hung on the back of the door.

She knew it was ridiculous, but the question about her foot had been a slam back into reality. She was a cripple, and while she could make love with abandon, she would never, ever be the woman that Adam Benson needed in his life.

Chapter 11

I
t was just after five the next morning when Adam got out of bed and left her bedroom. Although he hated to wash off the scent of her that lingered on his skin, he went upstairs and quickly showered and dressed for the day.

Back in the kitchen he made coffee, and then, with a cup in hand, he went to stand at the window that looked out on the backyard. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, shooting out a pink glow that promised a clear, beautiful autumn day.

As he sipped his coffee, his thoughts were filled with the woman who still slept in the bed nearby. He’d done something wrong. He’d completely ruined the moment. After they’d made love, he shouldn’t have asked her about her foot. Somehow he’d broken the mood, chased away any further intimacy that might have occurred when she returned to the bed, clad in her nightgown, and told him she was tired.

She’d curled up on her side away from him and after a few minutes of silence he’d grabbed his boxers and gone into the bathroom.

When he’d returned to the bed, she’d pretended to be asleep, and that had been the end of things. It had taken him forever to finally fall asleep, as the events of the night played and replayed through his mind.

It had been a roller coaster of a night, first the horror of the attack on Melanie and then the joy of making love to her and finally the disconnect he’d felt when she returned to the bed. He’d definitely screwed up after they made love.

He’d gotten only a couple of hours of sleep, but he felt refreshed, invigorated and eager to touch base with Cameron to see what he’d found out during the night.

Adam wasn’t sure what to believe about the attack. It was possible she’d been targeted by the serial killer, but it was equally possible Craig Jenkins had tried to scare her badly enough that she’d want to sell this place and leave Grady Gulch forever.

His hand tightened around his coffee cup as he thought of the squirrelly little real estate man. How far would he go to achieve his goal of buying what could be considered prime real estate?

Why would anyone want to make Melanie believe she was losing her mind? Was it possible Craig had been playing mind games with her to have her institutionalized and then he could move in and somehow take possession of the house? Would he actually kill her to achieve his goal?

Certainly money was a universal motive for murder, but so were passion and jealousy and revenge. Was it Craig? Or was Adam missing something?

His phone rang and he quickly fumbled it from his pocket, not wanting it to awaken Melanie. When he saw the caller ID, he paused. The call was from the Oklahoma City jail.

It was Sam.

He hesitated a moment and then took the call. It was relatively brief and painful, but when it was finished, Adam was grateful that the ice that had encased his heart where Sam was concerned had melted a bit.

It was almost eight when Melanie made an appearance in the kitchen. She smelled like minty soap and a touch of floral perfume and was dressed in a pair of chocolate-brown slacks and a light beige blouse.

“Good morning,” she said as she wheeled herself toward the coffee machine.

“Good morning,” he returned. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby, once I finally fell asleep,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee and then moved to her spot at the kitchen table, her gaze not quite meeting his. “What about you?”

“It took me a long time to fall asleep, too, but once I did, I slept fine.” He carried his cup to the table and sat across from her. He studied her over his cup, loving how she looked with the morning sun drifting through the window and playing on the pale strands of her hair. “You worried me last night. You seemed to close yourself off when I asked you about your leg.”

Her cheeks took on a pink hue. “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t have a good handle on my emotions.” She took a sip of her coffee and then finally met his gaze. “While we were in bed together, I felt so normal and so whole, and then you asked me about my leg and it just hit me that I wasn’t normal or whole and never would be again.”

He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “Melanie, I’m not sure what it will take to convince you that you are normal, that you’re more whole than half the people walking around in this town.”

She squeezed his hand and released it, then smiled at him gratefully. “So what are the plans for today? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do the day after a stranger has broken into my bedroom and has tried to kill me. Is there a manual to tell me what comes next?”

“No manual, but we’ll definitely want to touch base with Cameron and see what he’s found out. I talked to Nick this morning and we’re invited to the ranch house for lunch.”

She eyed him dubiously. “That sounds like it’s going to be too hard. It would require getting into your truck and loading my wheelchair, and aren’t there several stairs going up to the porch of the ranch house?”

“All easily maneuvered if you just trust me,” he replied.

She continued to gaze at him, her eyes windows to all the emotions shifting through her...uneasiness, a touch of fear and, finally, acceptance. “Okay, if you think you can manage it. It might be nice to meet your brother and his wife.”

“And don’t forget about Garrett, their almost two-year-old little terror,” Adam said lightly, but he knew the depth of his love for the child was evident in his voice.

She gazed out the window, where a perfect autumn day was displayed. “It would be nice to get out of here for a little while,” she admitted.

“Good. Then I’ll call Nick back and tell him we’ll be there around noon.”

“Do you think it’s safe for me to be out?” A hint of fear lingered in her eyes.

“He attacked you in your own home in the middle of the night. I think you’re fine to go out and be among people. In fact, I think it’s a good idea to get you out of here for the afternoon. We might even stop in at the café for dinner, let people know that you’re just fine and not running scared.”

“I’m definitely not running anywhere,” she said as she sat up straighter in her chair. “And if this is all Craig Jenkins’s doing, then I’ll make sure he can’t get this house even if he kills me. I’ll contact my lawyer and have a will written up and leave the place to you.”

Adam blinked in stunned surprise. “You can’t do that, Melanie. If you’re going to leave it to anyone, it should be Tilly.”

Melanie shook her head. “Tilly already has a house of her own. If I leave this one to her, it would just be a financial burden on her.”

“This is all a ridiculous conversation, because I have no intention of allowing anything to happen to you!” Adam exclaimed with more force than necessary. “I don’t even want to think about you worrying about having a will. You aren’t about to die anytime soon. You’ll have years and years to decide what you want to do with this place when the time is right.”

She released a small sigh and smiled at him. “I’m beginning to think that the best thing I ever did was rent the upstairs to you.”

He returned her smile. “You sure didn’t seem too eager on the day I showed up on your doorstep.”

Her smile faded and her gaze left his and instead once again focused outside the window. “Adam, about last night. I just want to make sure you know that it’s never been in my plans or wishes to marry or have children. What happened last night won’t be happening again.”

His heart took a nosedive, but he nodded. “At least we’re on the same page as far as marriage and children go,” he replied, although he was beginning to believe his bachelorhood wasn’t quite as confirmed as it had once been. “But as long as we both are on the same page, I don’t see why we can’t enjoy being together in bed and out.”

Her gaze shot back to him and a small smile curved the corners of her mouth. “You are a naughty man, Adam Benson.”

“The question is, are you a naughty woman?” he asked, his heart suddenly beating fast and furious.

“You want to see just how naughty I can be?” She wheeled back from the table. “Follow me.” She headed toward the bedroom.

Adam jumped up from the table and hurried after her, aware that if he wasn’t very careful, he would be completely and totally in love with Melanie Brooks.

* * *

Mary Mathis wiped the counter in the café for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. It was just after eight and the morning rush was in full swing.

Each time the door opened, her gaze went in that direction, seeking a face that had become achingly familiar. Every morning for the past year she’d opened the café early to allow in a single customer...Sheriff Cameron Evans.

He’d sit at the counter and cradle a cup of coffee between his big hands as they shared friendly talk. She mostly talked about the funny incidents that had happened at the café with customers or staff, or she spoke of her ten-year-old son, Matt, and all the activities and interests he had.

Cameron spoke of his job as sheriff, whatever case he was working on and about his parents, Lila and Ralph, who still lived on the family ranch just outside of Grady Gulch.

It was light, easy conversation and Mary hadn’t realized how much she looked forward to it each morning until this morning, when he hadn’t shown up at all.

It was just as well, she thought as she poured coffee for one of the customers and picked up an order for another. Getting close to Cameron in any way had been foolish. She knew he wanted their friendship to go to the next level. She’d begun to see a longing in his eyes when he talked to her, a longing that both drew her and repelled her.

“George, how’s your breakfast?” she asked the older man who came in for nearly every meal and sat on the same stool at the counter.

“The coffee is bitter and the hash browns are too crispy,” he replied gruffly.

Mary had expected nothing less. If it wasn’t for complaining, George would have no conversations at all. “You want to call Rusty out and you can talk to him about the potatoes?”

“No, too late now. I’ve about eaten them all,” George replied.

Few customers who knew the café’s cook, Rusty Albright, took their complaints to him. Rusty looked more like an ex-boxer than a man who could make a great meringue, and more than once Mary had used him as a bouncer to take care of an unruly diner.

She left George and moved down the counter, her gaze sweeping over the other diners who were there enjoying breakfast. Brandon Williams sat in his motorized wheelchair, visiting with the shyer Thomas Manning. Both men had moved to town within the past year and this was the first time she’d seen Thomas talking to anyone except the waitress that served him.

She carried the coffee carafe to the end of the counter where Dennis Marrow sat, a newspaper in hand and a half a cup of coffee in front of him.

Dennis was the father of three children under the age of five. When he’d complained that mornings at the Marrow house were so chaotic he never got to read the paper in peace, his wife had offered him an hour off each morning, when he could come here for coffee and reading.

“More coffee, Dennis?” Mary asked.

The young man lowered the paper and smiled. “No thanks, Mary. I’ve got five minutes and then I need to get out of here and back home.”

He returned to his paper as she stepped away. He never lingered, was always home on time. Their marriage would probably last at least fifty years, Mary thought. They were so young and had already learned the fine art of compromise.

Mary had once believed she’d be celebrating anniversary after anniversary, that when she’d said her vows years ago, they actually meant something. But that hadn’t been in the cards for her and the choices she’d made since then would forever keep her alone, would forever keep her from reaching out for love ever again.

Still, she couldn’t halt the leap of her heart when the café door opened and Cameron walked in. He looked so handsome, so tall and strong in his khaki uniform, but there was no smile on his features as he slid onto one of the empty chairs at the counter.

“You’re a bit late this morning,” Mary said as she poured him a cup of coffee. “I hope it’s because you overslept.”

“Fat chance,” he replied, a deep frown cutting across his handsome forehead. “Melanie Brooks was attacked last night in her home.” He kept his voice low, so Mary had to lean forward to hear him.

She gasped. “Is she all right?”

He nodded. “She’s fine, but it looks like it’s possible our killer isn’t finished or hasn’t moved on yet.”

Mary was horrified by the news, but there was a tiny part of her that was relieved that the latest potential victim hadn’t been a waitress from her café.

With the murders of the first two women, Mary had begun to think that somebody was targeting her personally by killing members of her staff, women she cared about.

“Any clues?” she asked.

Cameron shook his head, his frown deepening. “It was almost midnight when I got the call and we spent most of the rest of the night chasing down alibis and looking for any fingerprints or physical evidence that might have been left behind. But we didn’t get the answers we needed.”

“And so you’re back on the merry-go-round of long hours and too little sleep,” Mary replied sympathetically.

Cameron smiled at her ruefully. “And I’m not sure but I think I’m on my way to an ulcer.”

“Cameron, you have to take care of yourself,” Mary replied, wishing she were in a position to take care of him, to feed him properly and see that he got his rest.

But that would never happen. No matter how much she cared about Cameron, no matter how she ached to fall into his arms, to explore the emotions she sometimes saw in his eyes when he gazed at her, she would never allow that to happen. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

This man, who was sworn to protect the people in Grady Gulch, the man who made her heart beat faster than any man had in the past ten years, had the capacity to destroy her life if he got too close.

By allowing him any deeper into her life, she took the risk of losing everything most dear to her...her café, her friends and, most importantly, the son who was her very life.