First Impressions (11 page)

Vance sent her a long, glittering look before he unbuckled his belt.

“I told you to stop that.” Shane pointed a warning finger. “I mean it. Don't you dare take another thing off. Vance!” she added threateningly as he reached for the snap of his jeans. “I'm serious.” The word ended on a giggle. His hands paused; his eyes narrowed. “Put your clothes back on this minute,” she ordered, but pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Over it, her eyes were wide and brilliant with amusement.

“What the hell's so funny?” he demanded.

“Nothing, not a thing.” With this, Shane collapsed on her back, helpless with laughter. “Funny? No, no, this is a very grave situation.” Convulsed with giggles, she pounded her fists on the bed. “The man is standing there, pulling off his clothes and looking fit for murder. Nothing could be more serious.”

Shane glanced over at him, then covered her mouth with both hands. “
That
is the face of a man overcome by lust and desire.” She laughed until tears came to her eyes.

Damn her, Vance thought as a grin tugged at his mouth. He crossed to the bed; then, sitting beside her, he planted his hands on either side of her head. The harder she tried to control her amusement, the more her eyes laughed at him. “Glad you're having a good time,” he commented.

She swallowed a chuckle. “Oh, no, I'm furious, absolutely furious, but it was
so
romantic.”

“Was it?” His grin widened as he considered her.

“Oh, yes, why you just swept me off my feet.” Her laughter rang through the room. “I don't know when I've been more
aroused
,” she managed.

“Is that so?” Vance murmured as Shane gave herself wholly to mirth. Very deliberately, he lowered his lips to brush her chin.

“Yes, unless it was when Billy Huffman pushed me into the briars in second grade. Obviously I inflame males into violent seizures of passion.”

“Obviously,” Vance agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I've had several since I tangled with you.” Her fit of giggles ceased abruptly when he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “I think I'm bound to have several more,” he murmured, moving down to her neck.

“Vance—”

“Soon,” he added against her throat. “Any minute.”

“I have to get back,” she began breathlessly. As she attempted to sit up, he pressed a hand to her shoulder to keep her still.

“I wonder what else might arouse you.” He nibbled at the cord of her neck. “This?”

“No, I . . .”

“No?” He gave a deep, quiet laugh, feeling her pulse hammer against his lips. “Something else then.” Her coat was unzipped, and deftly he loosened the range of buttons on her blouse. “This?” Very gently, he touched the tip of her breast with his tongue.

On a gasp, Shane arched against him. Vance drew her nipple into his mouth to let her taste seep through him. He savored it a moment as Shane dug her nails into his bare shoulders. But when the heat shot into him, he knew he had to pull back before he took her too quickly. He'd been careful since the night they had dined together to keep some space between them. He hadn't wanted to rush her. Now that he had her in his bed, he intended to savor every moment.

Vance lifted his head and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and fixed on his. For a moment, they both looked for answers. Very slowly, Shane smiled. “This,” she whispered, and drew his mouth down to hers.

She hadn't been prepared for the sweetness of the kiss. His lips moved gently over hers. Their breath merged and matched rhythm. With light kisses he roamed her face, only to return over and over to her waiting mouth. To linger, to savor, to make each moment, each taste last; that was his only thought. The fiery needs were banked by the simple knowledge that she was his to touch, to kiss, to love. For the first time in his memory, he wanted to bring a woman pleasure much more than he wanted to take his own. He could give her that with the slow kisses that made his own blood thunder. Until he sensed she craved more, he used only his lips and tongue to arouse her.

Hardly touching her, Vance drew her jacket over her shoulders and arms, lifting her slightly to slip it from under her. His touch was so sure, so gentle, she remained unaware of his inner conflict between passion and tenderness. Without hurry, he drew off her shirt, following its progress over her shoulders with his lips. Shane sighed as his kisses ranged down her arm to nibble at the inside of her elbow. Fighting the growing need to rush, Vance trailed his lips down to her wrist.

If the wind still blew outside the windows, if leaves still rustled along the ground, Shane was unaware. There was only the play of Vance's fingertips, only the warm trace of his mouth. Content, almost sleepy, she ran her fingers through his thick mane of hair as his teeth tugged lightly at the cord of her neck. The lazy friction of his skin against hers had her pulse beating thickly. She felt she could stay forever, floating in a world halfway between passion and serenity.

He began the downward journey slowly, hardly seeming to move at all. With kisses and light love bites, he circled her breast, moving inward until he captured the peak. It grew hot and hard in his mouth while she began to move under him. He suckled, using his tongue to bring them both to the edge of delirium. Her breathing was as raspy as his. Now he could feel the energy flowing from her, pouring out in passion and urgency. Moaning his name, she pressed him closer to her.

But there was so much more to give, so much more to take. With deliberate care, Vance repeated the same aching journey around her other breast, feeling her shudders, listening to the storm of her heartbeat under his hungry, seeking lips.

“So soft,” he murmured. “So beautiful.” For a moment he merely buried his face against her breast, struggling to hang on to his control. On a moan of need, Shane reached for him as if to bring his mouth back to hers, but he slipped lower.

Taking her arching hips in his hands, Vance traced his tongue down her quivering skin. Shane felt her jeans loosen at the waist and shifted to help him. But he only pressed his mouth deep into the vee of exposed flesh. Again she shifted, curving her back to offer herself, but he lingered, tracing lazy circles with his tongue.

When he worked the jeans over her hips, she felt each searing brush of his fingers. Down her thighs he journeyed, pausing to caress their soft inner flesh, over her calves to nibble gently at the taut muscles, then to her ankles, sending a devastating flush of heat up her body with a quick flick of his tongue.

He found points of pleasure she had been unaware existed. Then he was at the core of her, his tongue stabbing inside her to catapult her beyond all bounds of reason. She moaned his name, moving with him, moving for him, with mind and body tormented by dark, pulsing delights.

Vance heard his name come huskily through her lips and thrilled to it. Her energy, her wellspring of passion inflamed him, driving him to take her deeper before he took all. The sweet, sweet taste of her made him greedy. Somewhere in the back of his clouded mind he knew he was no longer gentle with her, but needs whipped at him.

Madness overcame him. His mouth roamed wildly over her body as his fingers took her from peak to staggering peak. Her breath was heaving when he found her breast. If she had been capable of words, Shane would have pleaded with him to take her. Her world was spinning at a terrifying speed, a speed far beyond the scope of her imagination. When his mouth crushed hers, she answered blindly. He thrust into her.

The flow of energy came from nowhere—a power, a strength that hurled her beyond the reasonable and into the impossible. One fed the other, driving higher and faster until they found the apex. Together, they clung to it, shuddering.

How long he lay still, Vance was unsure. Perhaps he even dozed. When his mind began to clear, he found his mouth nuzzled against Shane's throat, her arms wrapped around him. He was still inside her and could feel the light pulses of lingering passion deep within her. For a moment longer he kept his eyes closed, wondering how it was possible to be both sated and exhilarated. When he started to move, thinking of her comfort, Shane tightened her hold to keep him close.

“No,” she murmured. “Just a little longer.”

He laughed as his lips grazed her ear. “Can you breathe?”

“I'll breathe later.”

Content, he snuggled back into the curve of her neck.

“I like the way you taste. I've had a problem with that since the first time I kissed you.”

“A problem?” she said lazily, running experimental fingers over the muscles of his back. “That doesn't sound much like a compliment to me.”

“Would you like one?” He pressed his mouth to her skin. “You're the most exquisite creature I've ever seen.”

Shane received this news with a snort of laughter. “Your first compliment was a bit more credible.”

Vance lifted his head and looked down at her. Though her eyes were still sleepy with passion, they were amused. “You really don't see it, do you?” he said thoughtfully. Did she really have no notion what big velvet eyes and satin skin could do to a man when combined with her kind of vivacity? Didn't she realize the kind of power there was in striking innocence when it was offset by a sensual mouth and an open, honest sexuality? “You might lose it if you did,” he said half to himself. “What if I said I liked your nose?”

She eyed him warily for a moment. “If you say I'm cute, I'll hit you.”

He chuckled, then kissed both dimpled cheeks. “Do you know how long I've wanted you like this?”

“From the first moment in the general store.” She smiled when he lifted his head to stare down at her. “I felt it too. It was as though I'd been expecting you.”

Vance laid his forehead on hers. “I was furious.”

“I was stunned. I forgot my coffee.”

They laughed before their mouths met. “You were terribly rude that day,” she remembered.

“I meant to be.” He lured her lips back to his. “I wanted to get rid of you.”

“Did you really think you could?” Chuckling, she nipped at his bottom lip. “Don't you know a determined woman when you see one?”

“I
would
have gotten rid of you if I'd been able to close my eyes at night without seeing you.”

“Did you really? Poor Vance.” She gave him a sympathetic kiss.

“I'm sure you're very sorry I lost sleep over you.”

She made a suspicious sound. Vance lifted his head again to see her bottom lip caught firmly between her teeth. “I would be sorry,” she assured him, “if I didn't think it was wonderful.”

“I often wanted to strangle you at three o'clock in the morning.”

“I'm sure you did,” she returned soberly. “Why don't you kiss me instead?”

He did, roughly, as banked passions began to smolder again. “That day when you sat in the mud, laughing like a fool, I wanted you so badly I hurt. Damn you, Shane, I haven't been able to think straight for weeks.” His mouth crushed down on hers again with a touch of the anger she remembered. She soothed the back of his neck with her fingers.

When he lifted his head, their eyes met in a long, deep look. Shane lifted her palm to his cheek.

So much turbulence, she thought. So many secrets.

So much sweetness, he thought. So much honesty.

“I love you,” they said together, then stared at each other in amazement. For a moment, they neither moved nor spoke. It seemed even their breathing had halted at the same instant. Then, as one, they reached out, clinging heart to heart, mouth to mouth. What started as a desperate meeting of lips softened, then sweetened, then promised.

Vance closed his eyes on waves of relief and towering pleasure. When he felt Shane's shudders, he drew his arms tighter around her. “You're trembling. Why?”

“It's too perfect,” she said in a voice that shook. “It frightens me. If I were to lose you now—”

“Shh.” He cut her off with a kiss. “It
is
perfect.”

“Oh, Vance, I love you so much. I've been waiting all these weeks for you to love me back, and now . . .” She took his face in her hands and shook her head. “Now that you do, I'm scared.”

Looking down at her, he felt a surge of passion and possession. She was his now; nothing was going to change it. No more mistakes, no more disillusionments. He heard her breath catch, then shudder.

“I love you,” he said fiercely. “I'm going to keep you, do you understand? We belong together. We both know it. Nothing, by God, nothing's going to interfere with that.”

He took her on a wild surge of need and desperation, ignoring the shadow of trepidation that watched over his shoulder.

Chapter 9

It was dark when Shane woke. She had no idea of time or place, only of deep inner contentment and security. The weight of an arm around her waist meant love; the quiet breathing near her ear meant her lover slept beside her. She needed nothing more.

Idly, she wondered how long they had slept. The sun had been setting when she had closed her eyes. The moon was up now. Its cool white light filtered in through the windows to slant across the bed. Shifting slightly, Shane tilted her head back to look at Vance's face. In the dim light, she could make out the sweep of cheekbone and outline of jaw, the strong straight nose. With a fingertip, she traced his mouth gently, not wanting to wake him. As long as he slept, she could look her fill.

It was a strong face, even a hard one, she mused, with its sharp angles and dark coloring. His mouth could be cruel, his eyes cold. Even in his loving there was a ruthless sort of power in him. While a woman might feel safe in his arms, she would never be completely comfortable. A life with him would be full of constant demands, arguments, passion.

And he loves me
, Shane thought in a kind of terrified wonder.

In sleep, Vance shifted, drawing her closer. As their naked bodies pressed intimately close, a dull throb of need moved through her. Her skin heated against his, tingling with the contact. Against the slow, steady beat of his heart, hers began to thud erratically. Desire had never seemed more demanding, yet he did nothing more than lie quietly beside her, deep in his own dreams.

It would always be like this, she realized as she settled her head in the crook of his shoulder. He would give her very little peace. Though she was a woman who had always taken peace for granted, Shane would now forfeit it cheerfully. He was her fate; she had known it from the first instant. Now, she felt as bound to him as if she had been his wife for decades.

For a long time she lay awake, listening to him sleep, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her breasts. This would never change, she told herself. This need to hold each other. She burrowed against him for a moment, filling herself with his scent. As long as she lived, Shane knew she would remember every second, every word spoken during their first time together. She would need no diary to remind her of young, churning fires when she was old. No passage of time would dull her memory or her feelings.

With a sigh, she brushed a whisper of a kiss over his lips. He didn't stir, but she wondered if he dreamed of her. She wanted him to, and closing her eyes, she willed him to. Carefully, she drew away from him, then moving lightly, slipped from the bed. Their clothes were in scattered heaps. Finding Vance's shirt, Shane slipped it on before she left the room.

Her scent lingered on the pillowcase. It was the first thing to penetrate Vance's senses as he drifted awake. It suited her so, the fresh, clean fragrance with a suggestion of lemon. Lazily, he allowed it to seep into him. Even in sleep, his mind was full of her. There was a slight stiffness in his shoulder where her head had rested. Vance flexed it before reaching out to bring her back to him. He found himself alone. Opening his eyes, Vance whispered her name.

He experienced the same sense of time disorientation that Shane had. The room was dim with moonlight, so that for a moment he thought he must have dreamed it all. But the sheets were still warm from her, and her scent still lingered. No dream. The relief he felt overwhelmed him. Softly, he called her name. It was then he smelled the bacon. In the dark, he grinned foolishly and settled back. As he lay quietly, he could just hear Shane's voice as she sang some silly popular song.

She was in the kitchen, he thought. Vance stayed where he was, listening. She was rooting through the cupboards, clattering something. Water was running. The scent of bacon grew stronger. How long, he wondered, had he waited to feel this way?
Complete.
He hadn't known he had been waiting, but he did know what he had found. She filled the emptiness that had nagged at him for years, healed an old, festering wound. She was all the answers to all the questions.

And what would he bring her? his conscience demanded. Vance closed his eyes. He knew himself too well to pretend he would give her a smooth, serene life. His temper was too volatile, his responsibilities too intrusive. Even with adjustments to both, he could paint her no soft pastoral scene. His life, past, present and future, had too many complications. Even this, their first night together, would have to be marred by one of his ghosts. He had to tell her about Amelia. There was a burst of rage followed by a prickle of fear.

No, he wouldn't accept the fear, he told himself as he rose quickly from the bed. Nothing, no one was going to interfere with him. No shadow of a dead wife or demands of a hungry business were going to take her from him. She was strong, he reminded himself, trying to override the apprehension. He could make her see his past as it was—something that had happened before her. It might shock her to learn he was president of a multimillion-dollar firm, but she could hardly be displeased once it was out in the open. He would tell Shane everything and wipe the slate clean. When it was done, he could ask her to marry him. If he had to make professional adjustments, he'd make them. He had sacrificed his own youthful dream for the good of the company, but he wouldn't sacrifice Shane.

As he pulled on his jeans, Vance tried to work out the best way to tell her and, perhaps more important, to explain why he had yet to tell her.

***

Shane added a dash of thyme to the canned soup she was heating. She rose on her bare toes to reach for a bowl on the shelf, the hem of Vance's shirt skimming her naked thighs. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed. Vance stood for a moment in the doorway watching her.

Then in three strides, he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the curve of her neck. “I love you,” he murmured in a low, fierce whisper. “God, how I love you.”

Before she could answer, he spun her around to take her mouth with his. Both stunned and aroused, Shane clung to him as her knees buckled. But she met the kiss with equal passion with soft, willing lips until he slowly drew her away. As the flame mellowed to a glow, Vance looked down at her and smiled.

“Any time you want to drive me crazy, just put on one of my shirts.”

“If I'd known the kind of results I'd get, I'd have done it weeks ago.” Returning his smile, Shane clasped her hands around his neck. “I thought you'd be hungry. It's after eight.”

“I smelled food,” he said with a grin. “That's why I came down.”

“Oh.” Shane lifted a brow. “Is that the only reason?”

“What else?”

Her retort ended on a laugh as he nuzzled her neck. “You could make something up,” she suggested.

“If it makes you feel better, I could pretend it was because I couldn't keep away from you.” He kissed her until she was limp and breathless. “That I woke up reaching for you, then lay listening to your clattering in the kitchen and knew I'd never been happier in my life. Will that do?”

“Yes, I . . .” She sighed as his hands slid down to caress beneath the loose shirt. Behind her, bacon popped and hissed. “If you don't stop, the food's going to burn.”

“What food?” He chuckled, pleased that she was flushed and breathing unsteadily when she struggled away from him.

“My own specially doctored tomato soup and prize-winning BLTs.”

He pulled her back to nuzzle her neck another moment. “Mmm, it does smell pretty good. So do you.”

“It's your shirt,” she claimed as she wiggled out of his arms again. “It smells like wood chips.” Deftly, Shane took the sizzling bacon from the frying pan to let it drain. “If you want coffee, the water's still hot.”

Vance watched her finish preparing the simple meal. She did more than fill the kitchen with the scents and sounds of cooking. He'd done that himself often enough in the past weeks. Shane filled it with life. He may have repaired and renovated and remodeled, but the house had always been empty. Vance realized now that without her, it would have always been unfinished.

There would be no living there without her—no living anywhere. Fleetingly, he thought of the large white house in an exclusive Washington suburb—the house he had bought for Amelia. There was an oval swimming pool sheltered by a white brick wall, a formal rose garden with flagstone paths, a clay tennis court. Two maids, a gardener and a cook. When Amelia had been alive, there had been yet another maid to tend to her personally. Her dressing room alone had been larger than the kitchen where Shane was now fixing soup and sandwiches. There was a parlor with a rosewood cabinet Shane would adore, and heavy damask drapes she would detest.

No, Vance thought, he wouldn't go back there now, nor would he ask Shane to share his ghosts. He had no right to ask her to cope with something he was only beginning to resolve himself. But he would have to tell her something of his former marriage, and of his work, before yesterday could be buried.

“Shane . . .”

“Sit down,” she ordered, busily pouring soup into bowls. “I'm starving. I skipped lunch this afternoon bargaining for this wonderful Sheridan table. I paid a bit more for the clock than I should have, but made it up on the table and the saltcellars.”

“Shane, I have to talk to you.”

Deftly, she sliced a sandwich in half. “Okay, I can talk and eat at the same time. I'm going to have some milk. Even I can tell that instant coffee's dreadful.”

She was bustling here and there, putting bowls and plates on the table, poking into the refrigerator. Vance was suddenly struck with the picture of his life before she had come into it—the rush, the demands, the work that had ultimately added up to nothing. If he lost her . . . He couldn't bear thinking about it.

“Shane.” He stopped her abruptly, taking both of her arms in a strong grip. Looking up, she was surprised by the fierceness in his eyes. “I love you. Do you believe it?” His grip tightened painfully on the question, but she made no protest.

“Yes, I believe it.”

“Will you take me just as I am?” he demanded.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her, no wavering. Vance pulled her toward him.

A few hours, he thought, squeezing his eyes tight. Just a few hours with no questions, no past. It's not too much to ask.

“There are things I have to tell you, Shane, but not tonight.” As the tension drained, he loosened his hold to a caress. “Tonight, I only want to tell you that I love you.”

Sensing turmoil and wanting to soothe it, Shane tilted her face back to his. “Tonight it's all I need to know. I love you, Vance. Nothing you tell me will change that.” She pressed her lips to his cheek and felt some of the tightness in his body loosen. Part of her wanted to coax him to tell her what caused the storm inside him, but she was conscious of the same need for isolation that Vance had. This was their night. Problems were for the practical, for the daytime. “Come on,” she said lightly, “the food's getting cold.” The fierce hug she gave him made him laugh. “When I fix a gourmet meal, I expect it to be properly appreciated.”

“I do,” he assured her, kissing her nose.

“Do what?”

“Appreciate it. And you.” He dropped a second kiss on her mouth. “Let's go into the living room.”

“Living room?” Her brow creased, then cleared. “Oh, I suppose it would be warmer.”

“Exactly what I had in mind,” he murmured.

“I tossed a couple of logs onto the fire when I came downstairs.”

“You're a clever soul, Shane,” Vance said admiringly as he took her arm and steered her from the room.

“Vance, we have to take the food.”

“What food?”

Shane laughed and started to turn back, but he propelled her into the sparsely furnished, firelit room. “Vance, the soup'll have to be reheated in a minute.”

“It'll be terrific,” he told her as he began to unbutton the oversize shirt she wore.

“Vance!” Shane brushed his fingers away. “Be serious.”

“I am,” he said reasonably, even as he pulled her down on the oval braided rug. “Deadly.”

“Well,
I'm
not going to reheat it,” she promised huffily while he leaned on an elbow to undo the rest of the buttons.

“No one would blame you,” he told her as he parted the shirt. “It'll be fine cold.”

She gave a snort. “It'll be dreadful cold.”

“Hungry?” he asked lightly, cupping her breast.

Shane looked up at him. He saw the dimples flash. “Yes!” In a quick move, she was lying across his chest, her mouth fixed greedily on his.

The verve and speed of her passion stunned him. He had meant to tease her, to stoke her desires slowly, but she was suddenly and completely in command. Her mouth was avid, demanding, with her small teeth nibbling, her quick tongue arousing him so quickly he would have rolled her over and taken her at once had his limbs not been so strangely weak. Her weight was nothing, yet he couldn't move her when she shifted to do clever, torturous things to his ear. Her hands were busy too, stroking through his hair, skimming over his shoulders and chest to find and exploit small, devastating points of pleasure.

He reached to pull off her shirt, too dazed to realize his fingers shook, but he fumbled, dragging at it. High on her own power, Shane gave a quick, almost nervous laugh. “Too soon,” she whispered into his ear. “Much too soon.”

He swore, but the curse ended on a groan when she pressed her lips to his throat. She burned even as he did, but she was driven to heighten his pleasure to the fullest. It spun through her mind until she was giddy that her touch, her kisses were enough to make him weak and vulnerable. Under her roaming mouth, his skin grew hot and damp. He stroked her where he could reach, but there was something dreamlike in the touch, as though he had passed the first feeling of desperation. For all his strength and power, he had surrendered to hers.