Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) (22 page)

“You’re not paying attention,” Mariah accused, looking over his shoulder.

“You’re right, I’m not.” He repositioned his feet the way she had suggested. “It’s a bit hard to concentrate when you’re up against me like that.”

He’d half expected her to move away from him. But for a long, lingering moment she stayed put. Even pressed more suggestively against him.

“Mariah, it’s a good thing the gun’s pointing the other way or we’d both be in trouble.”

Her husky laugh teased his ear. “Don’t worry, cowboy. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Her hand seemed to brand his hip where she’d splayed her fingers flat and lightly stroked him. “Not anything bad anyway.”

Then her heat was gone, leaving him standing with the warm Texas wind whipping around him.

“See if you can hit the can on the far left,” she said.

“I’ll be lucky to hit a can at all,” he murmured.

Judging by her quiet laugh, she must have heard him.

He squeezed off a round, unprepared for the kick that she’d mentioned earlier. His hands jerked up and the bullet went some twenty feet above the target.

“Whoa,” he said, breathing in the sharp scent of gunpowder. “This baby packs a punch.”

“Yeah, and it’ll put a hole in you the size of a pizza. Extra large.” She came to stand behind him again. “Aim lower this time, allowing for the kick.” She skimmed her hands over his outer arms then steadied his hands. Zach could swear he could feel her nipples spear him from under her T-shirt and through his shirt. He heard her lick her lips as she removed her hands. “Try again.”

He did, with only moderately better results.

“At this rate I’ll be lucky to hit the fence.” He dropped the gun to his side and looked at her. “Dare I ask how long it took you to hit the cans?”

“Second try. I was seven and my father gave me a .22.”

“Seven, huh?” he asked, raising his brows.

She smiled. “Things are different down here in Texas.”

“I’ll say. Have many drive-bys?”

“Drive-bys?”

“Never mind.”

With everyone and their brother armed in Texas, he figured a drive-by shooting would be akin to launching World War III.

“Oh, damn.” She looked at her watch. “It’s my night to cook dinner.”

“For the ranch hands?”

She shook her head as she looked out on the plains. “No. For my father.” She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail before they’d come out, but the wind had torn a good deal of it out, leaving wisps blowing across her pretty face.

He checked the gun, making sure to slip the safety into place.

“That’s okay. You go on ahead and practice. I’ll just be inside in the kitchen.” She gestured toward the large window overlooking the back.

“I’d much rather watch you cook dinner.”

She grimaced. “Trust me, it’s an experience you’ll enjoy missing.” She squinted her eyes. “Besides, the next time we run into trouble, I want to be reasonably sure you’re capable of protecting me.”

Why all of the sudden did Zach feel his chest puff out and his shoulders widen? “Oh, yeah?”

Her teasing smile lit her whole face. “Yeah.”

* * *

M
ARIAH
WASN
’
T
SURE
why she’d said that, about Zach’s protecting her, considering that she wouldn’t allow a ranch hand to help her up if she were drowning in quicksand, but somehow it had seemed the right thing to say at the time. And it had felt right.

She peeled a couple of Spanish onions in the sink and watched him squeeze off another round, his shots getting closer and closer to the targets. If there was any irony in the fact that she’d picked the one man probably the most incapable of protecting her to say the words to, well, that wasn’t lost on her. Her father had always told her she had to do things the hard way or no way at all.

She brushed a few stray strands of hair with the back of her hand and sighed. Of course, since she was talking about Zach, she had to admit that he soon wouldn’t be around to protect anyone, much less her.

On the drive out they’d stopped by Miss Winona’s cute little clapboard house about five miles east of the ranch. Yes, she’d told them, she could fix the dress. But it would probably take her a day or two to find the right texture and color of thread to do the job. She was going to call them later tonight at the ranch to report on her progress. Zach had been generous in paying her in advance, but it hadn’t made a difference in Miss Winona’s time estimate.

One more day, maybe two days tops, and Zach would be on a plane for Midland. Mariah turned from the sink and cut the onion, wiping her eyes as she did so. God, she hated cutting onions.

“Those aren’t for me, are they?”

Mariah blinked to find Zach standing in the kitchen doorway, taking a close inventory of her.

“What, the tears? Ha. I never cry. Ask anybody.”

He washed his hands then came to stand next to her. She swore she could feel his heat penetrate her jeans and T-shirt, despite the few inches that separated them. “I’m not asking anybody. I’m asking you,” he said quietly.

She glanced at him. “I never cry,” she answered.

His gaze flicked over her face as she finished cutting the onions then wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her shirt. “Well, except when I’m cutting onions. Useless act, crying. It never solves anything.”

“It doesn’t bring anyone back either,” he said quietly.

“No,” she said after a long moment. “No, it doesn’t.”

They didn’t have to clarify that they were talking about death. They’d both lost their mothers at a young age, so she knew what he was referring to. And, yes, she had cried after her mother had died. For days. But rather than helping to fill the hole that gaped inside her, it instead seemed to widen it. Everything she did, everything she said, seemed to emphasis the loss of her mother. It even got to the point where she and her father barely spoke at dinner for months because she was afraid she’d say something that would remind them both of Nadine Clayborn.

“What are you making?” he asked, taking the other onion, then picking up another knife that lay nearby.

“Meat loaf.” She frowned and looked inside the large metal bowl where she’d put ground beef and the onion.

He adjusted his motions so that he cut smaller pieces. “You’ll want to cut them like this. You want to taste the onions, but not see them.”

She lifted her gaze to his face. “You cook?”

“You didn’t live with my grandmother without learning how to cook.” He smiled. “She used to test me.”

“She didn’t!”

“Oh, yeah. Every Saturday I would be in charge of dinner, from the grocery shopping to the temperature of the oven. She wouldn’t be in the kitchen while I cooked, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t know I had the burner on high instead of simmer.”

“I never knew any of my grandparents,” Mariah said. “How old is she, your grandmother?”

His hands slowed. “She died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She was ninety-two. And probably damn happy to be over with it.” He cleared his throat. “She was pretty sick there near the end.”

Mariah opened her mouth to say she was sorry again, then snapped it shut and nodded her understanding instead.

“Do you have any breadcrumbs?” he asked.

Mariah blinked at him. “Oh. The meat loaf. I, um, just usually crumble whatever bread we have lying around.” She grabbed a loaf and took out a couple of pieces.

He eyed them. “Next time try leaving a couple of pieces out in the morning and let them get stale. It affects the consistency.”

Mariah couldn’t help laughing. “Okay. Thanks.”

Silence reigned as the two of them put their heads together to fix the meal. Finally Zach put the loaf into the oven, had some sort of sweet tomato mustard sauce ready to pour over the top later in the cooking time, and washed his hands. Mariah was cleaning up the mess they’d made, but somewhere between washing the metal bowl and running the trash disposal, she became acutely aware of Zach’s gaze on her. Her skin grew hot as she moved around the kitchen. If she presented him with her front, her nipples grew hard under his visual perusal. If she turned her back, shivers ran up and down her spine, making her very aware of her bottom and the way she moved it.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice stroking her like a caress. “We could always push forward with the other part of our deal.”

Mariah anxiously licked her lips, the words “push forward” making her damp. “You have some advice you’d like to give on my appearance?”

His eyes twinkled seductively. “Uh-huh. I’d like to have you out of those clothes. Now.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “And what would you like me to put on instead?”

“Me.”

She laughed, but the sound wasn’t in the least bit funny. The truth was, she wanted to put him on that instant. Yearned to stretch out on top of the butcher-block island and have him continue where they’d left off early that morning. Fit his arousal against her slick heat then enter her to the hilt. Feel his hands on her bottom, squeezing possessively as he madly thrust into her. Feel the sensation of his tongue lapping her breasts, his thumb rubbing her ultra-sensitive bud.

She gasped, realizing she’d come awfully near to climaxing just thinking about what they could be doing right then. She, who could count the number of climaxes she’d had prior to meeting Zach with one hand.

Mariah took in his heated gaze then tugged the hem of her T-shirt out of jeans. “Just remember later that you asked for this.”

8

Z
ACH
DIDN
’
T
THINK
he’d ever seen anything more beautiful than Mariah stripping in the middle of the kitchen with the late-afternoon sunlight slanting through the window. Despite the time she must spend outside, her skin was like fine white chocolate and his mouth watered with the desire to taste each inch of glorious skin she bared. Her
T-shirt came off. Next her boots and jeans, until she stood clad only in a plain bra that had anything but a plain effect, and white cotton panties.

Damn. He’d never seen anything sexier in his life. She touched him in a powerful way without even laying a finger on him. His gaze drifted to where she’d hooked her thumbs in the waist of her panties. She drew the material down, then slowly back up again. He looked into her face to find her wearing a teasing closemouthed smile.

Oh, she didn’t need any cues on how to become sexier. The woman was already more than any two men could handle.

“Zach?” she said softly. “I’m getting cold.” She skimmed one hand up to her mouth, moistened the tip, then dipped it inside the front of her left cup. He could see her nipple harden further through the material. “See,” she whispered.

Oh, yeah. He saw a lot.

“Come here,” he said, crooking his finger at her.

She slowly shook her head, causing her dark hair to sway in front of her face then back again, a strand catching on her bottom lip. He nearly groaned.

“No. You come here.”

He did. Faster than she apparently expected, because she gasped when he hauled her into his arms, his hands diving for her lush bottom, his right leg parting hers so that his thigh rubbed enticingly against her heated core.

“Mmm,” she moaned, grasping his shoulders as if for balance. “That’s nice.”

Nice wasn’t exactly what he was going for. He wanted wild. Out of control. White-light insanity. He ran his fingers along her bottom then slid them under the elastic of one leg, not stopping until the tips found the shallow crevice he sought. With infinite care, he parted her. She gasped and he kissed her, then slid his index finger inside.

Her low moan was nearly his undoing. Damn, but the woman seemed to control him as easily as a light switch. He hitched her leg up over his hip then pressed himself against her softness, continuing his intimate stroking. She began rocking her hips in time with his thrusts, shifting her head this way and that as the tempo of their kiss increased. She tasted of mint toothpaste and Texas summer and he wanted to devour her whole.

“Mar, you back yet?”

Zach froze, hearing the words before he’d registered that the back door behind him had opened.

Mariah gasped again, but this time for an altogether different reason. She tugged her leg free and stared into Zach’s face, desperation written all over her flushed features.

Zach quickly turned, hiding the unclothed Mariah behind him. Just inside the door stood a hulking chunk of a man as tall as Zach but twice as wide, his face a map of how many years he’d spent out on the range. Stubble dotted his dark skin and his blue eyes were piercing where they’d caught and held on the couple in the middle of his kitchen.

“Daddy!” Mariah said softly. “You’re…early.”

The older man cocked a salt-and-pepper brow. “And you, my dear girl, are naked.”

“I’m not…naked.”

Zach fought a grin. Not yet, she wasn’t. But if they’d had a couple of moments more she would have been. So would he have been, for that matter.

He spotted Mariah’s jeans in front of him. He stretched out his foot and scooted them to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Don’t mention it.”

Having somewhat recovered from his shock, the elder Clayborn took off his weathered cowboy hat and hung it near the door, then faced Zach again.

“Do I know you, boy?”

“No, sir, you don’t.” Zach started to move to offer to shake his hand, but stopped when Mariah made a small, strangled sound in her throat. “I’m Zach Letterman. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

If Zach wasn’t mistaken, that was amusement lighting the older man’s eyes. “More like it’s a pleasure to meet my daughter.” He stepped to the sink and started to wash up. “You ain’t from around these parts, are you, son?”

“No, I’m not.” Mariah finally finished putting herself together, all but for her boots, and stepped up to Zach’s side. “I’m from Indiana.”

“Yes, well, if you know what’s good for you, that’s exactly where you’d be heading before I turn back around.”

“Daddy!” Mariah said, clearly astounded. “That’s no way to talk to our guest.”

“Guest?” Hughie turned around.

“Yes, guest.” Mariah bent to pick up her boots. “Zach and I are working on a case together and he didn’t have anywhere to stay so I invited him to bunk with us for a day or two.”

“No place to stay? What? Is the man homeless?”

Zach chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, sir.”

Mariah leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t call him
sir
. It’ll go to his head.”

“So explain yourself, then.”

“I’m resettling in Midland, but am following up on a case here in Houston. That’s how Mariah and I met.”

“And that’s how you came to be caught going at it like rabbits in my kitchen, then?”

Mariah rolled her eyes. “We were not going at it like rabbits.”

“That’s the way it looked to me.” Hughie narrowed his eyes on his daughter. “This the guy you stayed with in Alabama?”

Mariah stepped to the refrigerator and took out a milk carton, then to a cupboard where she collected a glass. “Here, drink your milk and shush up about this, will you?”

Zach didn’t know what to expect from the older man, but was surprised when he roared with laughter. He accepted the glass then pointed a finger at Mariah. “I knew you had it in you somewhere, girl. I guess it was just a matter of the proper timing, wasn’t it?”

Mariah turned brighter than her T-shirt.

Hughie drank down his milk then rinsed the glass. “Zach, you don’t know how I worried about this girl. Never caught her playing doctor in the closet with one of the neighbor boys, or spin the bottle at a pajama party. Hell, she didn’t even go to the prom.”

“Daddy,” Mariah said in warning.

“What? You don’t want me talking to our guest?”

“Not if it’s me you’re talking about.”

“Well, hell, what would you have us discuss then?”

She whacked a rolled-up newspaper into his stomach. The older man groaned and caught it. “How about the weather?”

“It’s summer, it’s hot. Now what?”

Mariah rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling, then pushed her father toward the door. “Go catch a shower, old man. Dinner will be ready in a half hour.”

* * *

M
ARIAH
HAD
NEVER
been so embarrassed in her life. At twenty-six years old caught making out with a stranger in her underwear in her father’s kitchen. She hadn’t even kissed any of the other guys she’d dated inside the house and here she had nearly had sex with Zach right there in the middle of the floor.

She leaned her hands against the island to stop them from trembling. She jumped when she felt Zach’s fingers on her shoulders.

“Wow, you’re wound up tighter than a ball of string.”

“You would be, too, if you knew my father a little better.”

He kneaded her muscles, but she battled against relaxing into his touch, a battle she found herself quickly losing.

“Oh. I don’t think he’s such a bad guy.” He leaned against her, his arousal indicating that he’d been affected not at all by the interruption. “At least he didn’t go for the shotgun.”

She laughed. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“I don’t know. So far, much of what I’ve seen about Texas is a lot like the movies.” His hands smoothed down over her arms then back up again, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Except for you, of course.”

She turned in his arms and gazed up at him. “Why? Because I’m not movie material?”

He hooked his finger under her chin. “No, because this reality is too much like fantasy to be real.”

Mariah’s heart hiccuped in her chest. She didn’t think anyone had ever said anything so nice to her. She dropped her lashes and stared at the crisp whiteness of Zach’s shirt, though he still held her chin up with his finger. “You know, I have to say that I don’t think you’re fulfilling your end of the bargain.”

“Oh,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “How so?”

She shrugged and he released her chin, although he didn’t move from where he had her pinned against the counter. “You haven’t said one thing about how you’d really like to see me dressed—what I should say, how I should do my hair.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

She made a face. “I don’t know. I suppose I want you to tell me what you think makes a woman sexy.”

“Dinner ready yet?” Hughie boomed as he came back into the room. “I’m starving.”

Mariah rolled her eyes to stare at the ceiling, not daring to look at Zach’s face for fear of what she’d see there. Afraid her words would make him take a closer look at her and find her lacking. Find her as plain and as unappealing as her exes apparently had.

Finally she was forced to look at him in order to convey the importance that he let her go now that her father was back in the room. What she saw in his eyes made her knees go weak. Desire was there, yes. But also a heat that had little to do with sex and a lot to do with her.

“Hey, Letterman, you going to let my daughter get me some grub or what?”

“Actually, I thought I’d do the honors tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Mariah stared at him as if he’d gone insane.

“You know, by way of thanking you for having me while I’m in town.”

“Hell, boy, the words are enough.” Hughie took a seat at the table. “Come over here and sit down with me and tell me about yourself. I figure you owe me that much considering I caught you making out with my daughter in my kitchen.”

“Dad…”

Zach laid a finger across her lips. “That’s okay. I’ll get this one.”

Mariah swallowed with difficulty. She’d never had anyone offer to help her with dinner before, much less with her father.

Zach swiveled her around and sat her down in the chair next to her father, who looked at them both with raised brows.

“Why don’t I let Mariah tell you about Claude Ray and we can all talk while I serve?”

* * *

H
UGHIE
C
LAYBORN
WAS
LAUGHING
so hard he was crying. “So the clip dropped to the dirt?”

Mariah smiled as she took a sip of her coffee while Zach watched them both with growing admiration.

It wasn’t often that he got a look at other families up close and personal. And the only thing he had to compare Mariah and Hughie’s relationship to was his own with his grandmother.

“A Northerner like me doesn’t have much use for guns,” Zach offered up a mock protest.

“A Yank like you wouldn’t last a week by himself here,” Hughie said, wiping the dampness from the corner of his eyes with the heel of his large, callused hand.

“You make it sound like gunfights are a daily event for us in Texas, Dad,” Mariah said. “Life in the big cities here—Dallas, Houston—is just like life in other cities.”

Hughie shrugged. “Maybe so. But I’m saying a man isn’t worth his salt if he can’t survive on the brushlands.”

“You mean catching cattle rustlers?” Zach asked.

Both Hughie and Mariah looked at him as if he’d gone soft in the head.

Hughie sighed, all amusement gone from his face. “I mean putting a cow out of her misery after she’s gotten herself tangled hopelessly in a length of wire fence. Or shooting rattlesnakes. Or chasing off coyotes. Or riding all day in the Texas heat and discovering you drank your last bit of water an hour ago and knowing it’s going to be another two before you see a drop of the precious resource. Or steering your cattle to a pasture where they can graze if the sun hasn’t scorched the land. Now that’s what being a rancher is really about.”

Zach pondered what the big man had said.

A good three hours had passed since Zach had served dinner and the threesome was still seated around the table. Conversation had flowed easily, blending with the sound of the first crickets outside the open kitchen window. Zach glanced out now, surprised to find the sky filled with red clouds set against a dark azure sky, the sun saying its final farewell until the morning.

Hughie broke into his thoughts. “Of course, there’s always a way for you to find out firsthand what being a Texan is really about.”

“Dad, I don’t think Zach has the time or the inclination,” Mariah said, collecting their empty dessert plates and coffee cups and carrying them to the sink.

Zach met the old man’s gaze, noting the challenge in them. “Oh, I don’t know. When did you say Miss Winona would be done, Mariah?”

“She said she’d be getting the thread tomorrow afternoon…” She turned to face them. “Oh, no.”

Zach leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Why not? I don’t think I’m going to get another offer like this in my lifetime.”

Mariah put her hands flat on the counter. “Trust me, you’ll regret having gotten this one if you take him up on it.”

Hughie crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “What’s wrong with inviting the guy to ride with me, Mar?”

She stalked over to the table. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. I know you, that’s what. You’ll go out of your way to make sure everything that can go wrong with his experience will go wrong.”

Zach’s gaze drifted to Mariah’s face. Her color was high. Her dark eyes were throwing sparks. And he suspected she’d just revealed an important part of her upbringing without meaning to.

Had Mariah wanted to be a cowboy so bad she could taste it? Had her father invited her out for a similar ride? And had he thrown up every roadblock to try to keep his daughter from achieving her dream, simply because it wasn’t his dream for her?

Hughie chuckled softly then cleared his throat. “Considering Letterman’s first experience with a gun yesterday, I don’t think I’ll have to do any of that.”