Forever in Blue Jeans (8 page)

"No one could plan on her getting drunk."

"No' durunk."

Neil smoothed Blue's curls away from her face. "Yeah, honey, you are. At least a little bit."

"Oh." Her brows furrowed. "Sshh. Don' tell Cor'." Her voice had dropped to a whisper as she talked to Neil, but then she turned to Cort and poked him in the chest. "I 'm no' durunk."

"No, no, I'm sure you're not. Let's go." He fixed Rosie and Neil with a stare meant to cower them. It didn't work. They smiled instead. "I'll deal with you two later." To Neil alone, he said, "You'll be right behind us?" He was both hopeful and not. The smart thing was for Neil to follow along and take care of Blue, for Cort to go back to Decker's place, for distance to be put between them for the next couple of days.

"Oh. Oh yes, definitely. Right behind you."

Cort was sure Neil's emphatic nod was just for show. He ushered Blue out the door with a huff, guided her down the steps and into his truck. She stared up at him with big, round eyes as he secured the seatbelt across her body and all but ignored the throbbing in his own at the feel of her curves beneath his hands.

"You okay?"

She nodded, and he stepped back to shut the door. He knew they were being watched from the porch, and though it would have made him feel better to flip them all off, he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction.

Without turning to look at the house, he walked around the front of the truck, got in and started the engine, then pulled around the dark blue, late-model blocking the drive. It must be Blue's since she and Neil were the last ones to arrive. And it fit her: something fast, sleek, powerful. He could see her in it, tearing down the road with the windows down, her dark curls blowing in the wind, the radio blasting with her singing along. In spite of himself, the visual made him smile.

Once out on the two-lane highway, headed away from the little town and toward Blue's plantation, he took a couple of deep breaths and pressed two buttons on the side of the door to let some fresh air in. It would do his passenger some good.

She reached across the inside of the cab and tugged on his shirt, much as she'd done in the cabin.

"Cor'?"

"Yeah?"

"I...I don' norm'ly get drunk."

"It's okay. We all do it sometimes. Don't worry about it."

She took the deep breath this time. "No' me."

"Then why did you?"

"You faul'."

He glanced over at her. She had sleepy eyes, and her face was soft in the low glow of the dashboard lights. The night around them was completely dark, giving the appearance and feel that they were the only two people in the world.

Nothing about that thought should make him feel good, but it did. To be alone with her, the woman who touched him like no one else had in more years than he cared to remember, the woman who stole away in the dead of night for a reason he still didn't understand... No, he shouldn't want to be the only man in the world nor her the only woman, but then if they were, just maybe, she'd stay.

"Why is it my fault?"

"Wan' you. Make me crazy."

He knew the feeling. "I'm sorry. Not my intention."

"M'k." She nodded and seemed appeased with his answer and turned her head toward the open window.

Cort looked in the rearview mirror, expecting, waiting, hoping to see headlights any moment. He knew Neil wasn't going to follow with Blue's car. Not when it appeared he and Rosie got exactly what they wanted, which appeared to be he and Blue stuck with one another.

He certainly hoped, though, that maybe they'd consider Blue's tipsy state of mind and Neil show up at her house regardless of their plans. Cort didn't want to get stuck sleeping at Blue's. No.

Way. He might have told Blue they should fuck like a couple of rabbits, but that didn't mean he meant they should do it while she was three sheets to the wind. Or tonight, even if she had been sober.

No, if they were going to have sex, they were both going to be sober and know exactly what the hell they were doing, at least physically. But he also didn't feel right about leaving her alone in the middle of nowhere without a car. What if she needed to go somewhere? Not that she needed to drive while under the influence, but once sobered up, perhaps when she woke up in the morning or something. No, he was going to get stuck, and in his heart of hearts, he'd known that the moment they'd left Rosie's place.

The brick wall leading up to the iron gate of the plantation property loomed on the right side of the truck, and Cort slowed down. He turned in and drove down the oak-lined drive, veering off just before he got to the mansion. He pulled to a stop on the side of the carriage house, put the truck in park, and turned off the engine. A soft snore reached his ears before he could get out.

She was sleeping. Damn.

How was he supposed to get her inside? Did she even have a key on her? Had she taken a purse to Rosie's and left it? He leaned over and went through the pockets of her denim jacket, careful not to brush against any part of her body. No key. He didn't think her skirt had pockets, so he was left to try and find a key up by the front door.

"A fucking comedy of errors," he muttered, stomping up the porch steps.

He looked under the mat and glanced around, but saw nothing else that could conceal a key.

He stood back with his hands on his hips and stared at the door. "No, it couldn't be that easy." He pushed at the lever on the wooden panel and the latch dislodged, allowing him to swing the door open wide. "Evidently it could be."

In this day and age, who would leave their door unlocked?

Within minutes he had Blue lifted in his arms and the door to the truck kicked closed with his foot. He did the same thing when he got them inside her house.

Then he debated where to put her.

The couch would be safer and better for his peace of mind, but she'd probably rather wake up in her own bed. If it were him, he knew he would.

Cort carried her down the hall. On the right was one bedroom, and on the left were two more. Judging by the size of the second one on the left, he figured it to be hers. He set her down on the bed then reached over to turn on the lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. The walls were pale purple, the bedding a very close match with contrasting dark purples on throw pillows.

The wrought iron bed frame gave him all sorts of naughty ideas, and he turned away, hell-bent on gathering his cloak of indifference around him again.

And then he laughed at himself, not missing the bitter inflection in it. Nothing about the day, or night, or her had been indifferent. Nothing about his lust for her hinted at anything close to indifference, but dear God he had to do something to take his mind off stripping her naked and waking her with his mouth between her thighs. Only thing was, there wasn't anything to take his mind off doing that or any other number of things to her, with her, for her.

She was the most sexual creature he'd ever met, and he could no more control his desire for her than he could stop breathing. However, he could control himself long enough to get her undressed and settled into bed. He could be a gentleman. He might not want to be, but he could be, and dammit, he would be. Even if it killed him.

With methodical precision, Cort began removing her clothes. He slipped her sandals off her feet and set them at the end of the bed. Next was her skirt and he reached beneath her shirt to grasp the waistband. He lifted her, pulled the flowing material down her thighs, and off her legs.

It fell to the floor and as he set her back on the bed, he made a real, solid effort to ignore the smooth, shapely curves of her hips, and the lean muscles of her calves until, unbidden and unwanted, his earlier thought of seeing her in nothing but heels returned.

It was then he realized he was up close and personal with one of her tattoos. He'd seen it in one of her pictures, but had merely glanced over it. That was now impossible to do with it staring him in the face, taunting him. It had the appearance of worn brown leather. A belt. It wrapped around her thigh and it took every ounce of strength and decency he had not to lick at it, not to taste the edges with his tongue.

Gritting his teeth, he held her upper body against him and removed her jacket. The shirt beneath was nothing more than a plain T-shirt, and he decided it could be left on. For the sake of his sanity, the shirt
needed
to be left on.

He pulled the covers down and laid Blue under them, making sure to quickly cover her. She rolled away from him and snuggled into the pillow. Within seconds, she was snoring again.

Cort waited for a few more minutes, watching her, listening to her breathing. He reached out to stroke her hair, but quickly thought better of it, and left the room. There was no reason to tempt himself further, as he was already teetering on the brink.

It was going to be a damn long night. He knew Neil wasn't coming. They might not have planned on Blue getting drunk, but there was no doubt in his mind they were all in cahoots.

Decker wanted Cort to have what he had with Rosie, and while Buck hadn't broached the subject at all, Cort knew the two men were both up to their necks in the plotting.

He should be pissed at them for sticking their noses where they didn't belong, but he couldn't be. They wanted him to be happy, to finally settle down, and to still his restlessness. He couldn't be upset with them for that.

He turned his head in the direction of the pictures Blue had hanging on her walls. The sheer sexuality of them, the eroticism, the sensuality all fit her. There wasn't anything more that he wanted to do than trace each of her tattoos with his tongue, worship every curve and valley, slide so deep inside her that she wouldn't be able to walk away again. Not for the first time, he wondered if she'd had any of her tats when they met five years before or if they'd been inked on after. They hadn't bothered with lights when they'd gotten back to his hotel room in Savannah because they couldn't keep their hands off each other long enough to turn on a lamp.

The memory made him smile, laying there in the dark on her couch. No one was around to see that he remembered those hours with her, with an erection that bordered on severe discomfort, or with a twinge of pain in his heart, or with a smile of wistfulness on his lips.

Of their own volition, his eyes closed. His last thought before sleep took him was of the woman in the other room, warm, willing, wet. And his.

*

The smell of coffee hit him first. The smell of her hit him second, and that completely drowned out the aroma of the coffee. She was nearby, in the room with him. He couldn't hear anything, not her breathing, not her moving around, but she was there. The room was charged with her presence.

He thought about feigning sleep, soaking it in and just being near her without having to put up a front of...hell, he didn't know what the front was for. He'd already come to the conclusion last night that he was far from indifferent. She thought him too hard and rigid, and that was fine--

he could live with that--but he didn't want her to ever think he wasn't interested. It would be a lie, and it would hurt her for him to lie. It was the one thing he couldn't do to either of them.

Cort opened his eyes only slightly, braced for bright sunlight, but was met with near darkness. He turned his head to find Blue sitting in a chair with her feet propped up on the coffee table. She was holding a cup between her hands, and there was a big mug sitting on a coaster, waiting for him.

He sat up and reached for it, his gaze roaming her body from her bare toes to her covered legs to the long sleeved shirt covering her upper body. In the shadows she looked comfortable, and something warm curled inside him that had nothing to do with the coffee, which was exceptional.

"Damn, this is really good."

"Thanks. It's from Mexico. Hints of chocolate in it. Neil brought it to me from his last trip.

You spent the night here."

"Would seem so." He took another sip of coffee and while he usually liked a hint of cream in his, this particular cup didn't need any.

"Why?"

"I didn't want to leave you out here alone. I didn't know if you'd need someone, if you'd get sick, or what. So, I thought it best to stay." Damn Neil's hide. When Cort got a hold of him...

"Thank you. I slept pretty well through the night but woke up with a mouth full of dirty cotton. I don't get drunk often, hardly ever really so..." She took a sip of her own coffee and let her gaze bounce around the room before coming back to settle on him again. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know if I said anything. I don't remember much other than you bringing me home."

"You didn't. Say anything, that is. You fell asleep in the truck, and I carried you inside."

"You took my skirt off."

"I did."

"You put me in bed and covered me up."

"Yes."

"And you stayed."

He wasn't sure what the point of going over the events was, but he'd go with it for her sake.

Maybe she was just trying to put everything together in her head. He knew when he used to drink to the point of memory loss, he'd sit for days trying to fill in all the gaps. Luckily, he never said or did anything that was illegal, harmful, or embarrassing while intoxicated. "Yes, I stayed."

"You're not as stiff and unyielding as I thought you to be yesterday. You took care of me.

Thank you."

Oh he was stiff all right. "It was nothing." It was everything in that small span of time. He finished off his coffee and set the mug down. "Why is it so dark in here? Or rather, why is it so dark outside? What time is it?"