Deborah Camp (23 page)

“The shed?” She leaned sideways to see past him. The shed didn’t look any different from the way it looked the last time she’d seen it. “It’s nice.”

“It’s finished.”

“That’s good.” Meaning dropped like a stone into her mind, and her gaze jumped to his again. “Finished?”

“All finished,” he assured her.

“I heard you sawing.”

“I’m making a wash stand for your laundry tubs, so you can stand straight to scrub the clothes and not have to bend over and give yourself backaches. I finished the shed this morning.”

“Inside and out?”

“Inside and out,” he assured her. “I figure that calls for something special from you.”

She retreated, but could not move far, because he held onto her hands. Heat burst through her, making her knees tremble and her blood catch fire. She was afraid he’d see the hunger in her eyes.

“Can I come around tonight, say ’round about eight?” he asked, his thumbs moving lightly across her palms, making them tingle.

She nodded, unable to speak.

“See you then. Don’t bring the shotgun.”

His fingers stroked hers as they slipped away. Released, she turned and moved awkwardly toward the restaurant, her limbs trembling and her heartbeats booming in her ears. She prayed he wasn’t watching her jerky retreat, but when she reached the door and glanced briefly over her shoulder, she discovered that her prayer had gone unanswered. He was not only watching her, he was loving it.

Grinning like a monkey, he sent her a wink and a wave before returning to his work. Mortified, Adele shut herself inside for the rest of the day, a day that seemed never-ending.

Hours dragged by and minutes stood still as Adele suffered through the rest of the afternoon and early evening. She found she couldn’t eat, could barely think coherently. Reno wanted a special reward, and she had promised to give him one once that shed was finished.

Adele found herself staring at her bed, knowing she would not sleep alone in it tonight. So she changed
the linens and sprinkled rose water across the pillow cases.

He found her standing before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, staring at herself. Dressed in soft, white, layered lace, she was a vision to him. Her hair, held at the crown of her head by invisible pins, was dark and lustrous, framing a face that had become more dear to him with each passing day.

His Dellie. He’d found her again. He’d rediscovered her sweetness, her gaiety, her compassion. And in return she had unearthed the boy in him, that shy, rebellious, smitten boy who had fallen in love with a great lady in the making.

God knew he should be madder than hell at her for shooting at him. But he wasn’t. In fact, that night had taught him something about Dellie. She liked him. She liked him a whole hell of a lot. With a little coaxing, she might even fall in love with him.

She frowned, as if she didn’t like the woman in the mirror. Reno couldn’t have that.

“Don’t change a thing. You’re beautiful.”

Spinning around, her mouth agape, she rested one hand over her heart and the other against the wide pink ribbon circling her waist.

“You startled me. I … I was …” She glanced down at her dress. “This was the last dress my mother bought for me. She said it made me look angelic.”

“She was right.”

“But angelic might not be how you would want me to look this evening.”

Reno arched his brows and chuckled. “You think I would rather have you looking devilish? Maybe in a
red dress, the bodice low-cut and saucy?” He shook his head. “Like I said, don’t change a thing.” He held out the box of chocolates he’d bought for her at the General Store. “Here you go.”

She accepted it, her fingers gliding over the top of the red box with its gold lettering. “I thought
I
was to give
you
a sweet reward.”

He noticed the tremor in her voice and the trembling in her hands. Gliding a fingertip down her cheek, he sought her gaze and held it. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes,” she said, sighing the word. “Oh yes. I think I might be ill. I’m certain I’m about to faint …”

He caught her up in his arms just as her knees gave way. “Whoa there, darlin’.” He laughed, surprised that she felt nearly weightless. “Have you eaten anything today?”

She shook her head. “Not since breakfast. I couldn’t. My stomach is all aflutter.”

He kissed the end of her nose. “Dellie, you are a trial. How can I ravish you when you’re out cold?” He strode through her quarters and out to the restaurant.

“Where are we going now?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“To the kitchen to rustle up some grub.”

“No, I can’t eat. I tell you, I won’t be able to keep it down.”

“Yes, you will.” He set her in one of the kitchen chairs and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. “Something light, I think. Shaved ham and eggs? That ought to put some color back into your cheeks. And a big glass of milk to give you strength.” He wagged
a finger at her. “Shame on you, Dellie. You own a restaurant and you don’t eat?” He made a
tsk
sound.

Reno added wood to the stove and stoked the embers into shooting flames. In the span of twenty minutes he had set a plate of eggs and ham before her and poured her a glass of fresh milk. Sitting opposite her, he watched her eat, smiling his approval of each bite.

To her surprise Adele discovered her appetite. Her stomach settled into normalcy as a strange peace spread over her. Gazing into Reno’s eyes, she knew a perfect calm. He cared for her. He wanted her to be well, to be whole and strong more than he wanted her to be his lover tonight. That made her love him and want to please him all the more.

She noticed that he was freshly shaved and washed. She could smell lye soap drifting off his skin and a faint aroma of talcum powder. His shirt was clean, his black tie knotted perfectly, his black trousers knife-pleated. He’d combed his hair until it shone in the lamplight, black and glossy as a raven’s wing. His blue eyes were warm tonight and glittering with a thousand twinkles.

Oh, he was a handsome man, without a doubt, and Adele could hardly believe he was hers.

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

He shrugged and took an apple from a bowl on the table. “I can’t stay mad at you, Dellie.” After grabbing a knife from a rack near him, he began peeling the red fruit. “I don’t like sleeping in the shed. You miss me at night? I surely do miss you.”

Smiling, she knew her cheeks were as red as the
apple he held in his big hands. “I miss you. I never realized until this week how comforting it is to have a man around, especially when other men are given to shooting up your residence.”

“That won’t happen again.”

“At least Yancy won’t do it again. I hear he was laid up for days after that run-in with you.”

“That fella is as dumb as a stump.” The knife sliced through the last of the peel, and a long, continuous strip of red fell to the table. Reno cut a wedge of apple and held it out to her. “Here’s a change. Man offering a bite of apple to Woman. Tempted?”

Feeling devilish, she leaned forward and opened her mouth. Reno slipped the apple slice between her lips, then cut himself a bite, never taking his gaze from her. His eyes glittered with anticipation and she loved it.

He continued to dole out the fruit, a slice for her, then one for him, until it was gone. Tossing the core and peeling into the slop bucket, he wiped the juice from his hands and faced Adele across the table.

“Dellie, I mean to make love to you tonight. How does that sit with you?”

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t … I don’t …”

“You didn’t think I was going to?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“Well, yes, I knew you were going to try.” Her nerves were back again, fluttering through her like a hundred startled moths. “I just didn’t think you’d come out and tell me like this.”

“When it comes to important things in life, I like to lay my cards on the table. I think I’ve been more than patient. We’ve been married a spell now, and I
haven’t taken anything that wasn’t offered. I don’t want to take anything from you tonight that you aren’t willing to give me. I’m assuming I’ll be your first lover.”

Her mouth had suddenly gone as dry as dust. She nodded and struggled to locate her voice. “I’m assuming I won’t be yours.”

His grin was lop-sided and self-mocking. “No, sugar, you won’t be, but that doesn’t make this any less special for me. Hell, I’ve been wanting you for most of my life, Dellie. I remember just like it was yesterday that afternoon we were in the hayloft and I kissed you. Kissed you deep with my tongue. Lord, I thought I’d bust right there, I wanted you so bad. You remember that?”

“Yes.” Oh yes, she remembered. She had felt ashamed and excited and confused all at once. His tongue kissing had certainly sent her into a spin. “I didn’t know what to make of it,” she confessed. “I even thought I might get pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” He widened his eyes and released a hoot of laughter. “From kissing? You weren’t that green, were you?”

“It was the … invasion that confused me. I knew that invasion or inserting body parts led to pregnancy. Anyway, I spoke to my mother later and she assured me I was still a virgin, but she also warned me not to allow you to kiss me that way again.”

“Did she?” He winked. “You disobeyed.”

“Yes, well …” Adele shrugged and then laughed softly. “That was a minor rebellion, I suppose. But I felt that I was betraying Winston by letting you … well, kiss me and touch me.”

“Win and your mama aren’t in our way anymore, Dellie,” he said, his voice low and pulsating with a pagan note that warmed her blood. He slipped a hand across the table, palm up. “Come along and let me take you.”

Those words, brimming with meaning, enchanted her. She placed her hand in his with certainty and confidence. His fingers closed around hers with the same.

Hand in hand they walked to her parlor, where a single lamp cast its golden glow. Reno traced the shape of her face with his fingertips, his gaze taking her in, making her feel infinitely beautiful.

In his face she could trace his ancestry. His Gypsy blood was evident in his thickly lashed eyes, which held romanticism, bravery, and passion in their mysterious depths. His mouth was Gypsy too, she fancied, because it was erotic and sensuous, naughty and generous, rakish and roguish. His Cheyenne and Cherokee bloodlines were found in his silky black hair, his teak-colored skin, his proud, slashing cheekbones. His nose was French, patrician and bold.

His face told the story of his people and of him. Brash and passionate, handsome and proud.

What did her face tell him? she wondered. Did it reveal her growing love or her fettered passion? He had to see in her eyes that she wanted him and only him but that she was afraid she wouldn’t please him. She knew so much about other things, but so little about this.

“Reno,” she ventured, “what should I do?”

“Nothing. I’ll do everything.”

“But that isn’t fair.”

His lips brushed hers. “All is fair in love and war, my darling Dellie. You’ve been teaching all day. Now let me teach you a few things.”

She laughed lightly against his lips. “That sounds lovely. I shall be a most attentive pupil.”

He lifted his hands to her head and removed the pins, letting her hair fall heavily to her shoulders and down her back. He combed it with his fingers and kissed her lips again before bringing a handful of her hair to his nose as if it were a bouquet of exquisite blooms.

“When I catch the scent of you, I respond,” he murmured. “At night when I slept in here, I could smell you all over this room, and that alone made me miserable with longing.”

Was he truly saying these things to her? she wondered. The words fell off his tongue like honey, coating her senses and calming her nerves. His voice was a benediction, his touch, a potion.

“Did you ever waste a thought on me lying out here on my cold, hard cot?”

“Every hour of every night,” she assured him. “It’s a wonder I got any sleep.”

He smiled. “Sweet liar.”

“No, it’s true.” She rested her hands on his broad shoulders. “I did think of you and wondered if you thought of me. When you spent your nights away from here, I knew you were in the arms of another woman.”

“Yes, and her name is Lady Luck.” He moved forward, making her walk backward to the bedroom. “I swear I was playing poker with the banker and his friends, Dellie. I was not with any other woman.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I know, and I’m so very glad to hear that.”

He seized the moment to drive his fingers through the side of her hair and tip her head as he slanted his mouth over hers. His lips were warm and insistent, nudging hers apart. The kiss was slick and carnal, growing more so with the flicking of his tongue. She arched against him in wanton submission and felt his arousal press into her. She imagined she could feel the pulsing of his blood, timed to her own. With a tortured moan she sent her tongue across his lips, tasting him and leaving her taste on him.

His hands slipped from her hair to outline the sides of her breasts, her waist, the flare of her hips. She learned from that and smoothed her hands across his shoulders, up his neck and in through the cool silk of his hair. He tasted of sin, dark and rich and too good to be true. Flinging her head back, she gasped for air. He dropped fiery kisses upon the column of her throat down to the lacy neckline of her gown.

The small buttons marching down her spine were no barrier to his quick, sure fingers. One by one they were dispensed with to expose her dainty underclothes of white cotton and lace and her boned corset. But he was a man of the world, and once again he needed no guidance. He had explored such territory before and knew his way around it.

In stunned silence Adele felt her laces loosen and the rustling slide of her petticoats as they fell to the floor around her feet.

Staring at his necktie, she wondered miserably if she would be able to untie it properly, much less have success with the rest of his clothes. Suddenly feeling
woefully inadequate and unsure of herself, she stepped away from him and crossed her arms over her breasts to keep her dress in place.