Homecoming (18 page)

“Tyler?”

He raised his head in the darkness, staring down at her. “Yes, darling?”

“It’s been a long time for me. A very, very long time.”

Running his tongue along the column of her neck, he placed a light kiss at the base of her throat. “That makes two of us.”

She gasped. “How long has it been for you?”

“Since before I moved to Hillsboro.”

Dana gasped again. “How … why?”

He wanted to tell her cold showers and a lot of exercise, but said, “I supposed I wanted to wait for the right woman.”

“Did you find the right woman?”

“Oh, yes.” Tyler needed to talk, long enough to bring his runaway passions under control. “When I least expected it she appeared before me, the most stunningly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, the sexiest female I’ve ever encountered. A feisty elegant lady who knows what she wants and who’s not afraid to speak her mind.” His large hand took her face, turning it toward his. “I love you, Dana Nichols.”

She felt her eyes filled with hot tears. “I don’t want to love you, Tyler.”

“Why not, baby? I know we’ll be so good together.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I want no regrets when I leave Hillsboro.”

“Don’t think about leaving—at least not yet. Let us enjoy the time we’ll have together. Let’s begin with tonight.”

Dana nodded rather than answer. At that moment she didn’t trust herself enough not to dissolve into a hysterical crying where she wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Miss Dana Nichols, may I make love to you?”

Laughing and smiling through her tears, she whispered, “Yes.” It was the first time a man had asked permission to share her body.

She lay motionless, enjoying a giddy sense of pleasure
as Tyler’s hands moved to her shoulders, easing the narrow straps to her nightgown off her shoulders. The harsh uneven rhythm of her breathing increased when his fingers feathered over the slope of her trembling breasts. A tiny flame ignited between her thighs, flaring and sweeping over her until an unrestrained passion incinerated her in the hottest flames possible.

Head thrown back, lips parted, back arched, Dana gloried in Tyler’s gentle touch, his healing fingers inching down her breasts, over her flat belly, to find the hot, wet opening at the apex of her thighs.

He inserted a finger, Dana gasping and arching higher from the invasion into her flesh. “Easy, baby,” he crooned, gentling her. “I won’t hurt you. I promise not to hurt you.” He continued to talk to her as he moved his finger in and out of her throbbing flesh.

He changed the motion and rhythm whenever her breathing quickened, tempering her climax until she was mindless with spirals of ecstasy screaming for escape.

Holding her thighs firmly apart, Tyler slid down the length of her body, his mouth replacing his finger. Dana screamed once, then clapped her hands over her mouth to stop the moans, her head thrashing wildly on the pillow.

This was a lovemaking she’d never experienced before. However, she was shocked at her own eager response to his tongue searching between the folds of her femininity as her hips established a rhythm that was untutored, one that could not be taught. She wanted Tyler, all of him, his hardness inside her—now!

She reached out, her fingernails gripping his head, biting into his scalp and holding him fast. “Please,” she pleaded desperately. She repeated the entreaty over and over until tears of delight filled her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

A jolt of hungry desire settled in the area between Tyler’s legs as he moved up Dana’s body, inhaling her feminine scent in his pursuit to claim all of her—her heart and her body. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last before exploding.

He kissed her tenderly, his tongue easing between her lips and permitting her to taste herself. His hands were busy as his mouth, undressing her while his tongue simulated making love. He stroked the inside of her mouth with a slow feathery motion that set her nerves on edge.

Dana pulled the hem of his shirt from the waistband of his slacks, her hands sweeping up and over his chest. Her fingers tunneled through the thick mat of chest hair, thumbs sweeping over his flat nipples until they hardened like tiny pebbles.

She charted a deliberate course up and down his broad back, feeling the strong tendons in the back of his neck and the firmness of his buttocks. He had a beautiful male physique: long, hard, and lean.

Tyler took his time exploring Dana’s body, glorying in the fullness of her firm breasts, the narrow indentation of her waist above a pair of flared hips perfect for childbearing.

Once her hand moved lower, cradling his straining sex, he knew the extended session of foreplay was over. Reaching into a pocket of his slacks, he placed a condom on the bedside table where he could find it easily. Rising, he took off his belt and shirt, following with his slacks, then his briefs and socks; he opened the little packet on the table, rolling the latex down the length of his throbbing flesh.

Supporting his weight on an elbow, Tyler parted Dana’s knees with his, and then positioned his rigid sex at the entrance to the well of her femininity. Slowly, deliberately, he eased himself into her tight body, gritting
his teeth against the erotic torture clouding his brain.

Dana’s breasts tingled against his hair-roughened chest as she bit down on her lower lip, enduring the burning pain stretching her flesh further than she’d ever thought possible.

Pulling back, Tyler impaled himself in her taut body, shattering the dormant sexuality she’d safeguarded for six years. A flow of moisture bathing the tight walls gripping his sex nearly sent him over the edge. He could feel the heat from Dana’s body eddy down the length of his, followed by shivers of delights that left him shaking uncontrollably.

I don’t believe it! I can’t believe it!
The two phrases played over and over in Dana’s head as she loathed surrendering to the dizzying passion wrought by the hardness sliding in and out of her body in a powerful thrusting that snatched the oxygen from her laboring lungs.

Her body vibrated liquid fire, the tightness at the base of her spine signaling the beginning of the end. She didn’t want it to end, she’d waited too long for the sweet burning pleasure Tyler offered her. The tremors grew stronger and stronger, and when she felt her lover touch her womb she screamed out his name, floating on the hot tides of passion sweeping her up, shattering her into fragments of complete satisfaction.

Tyler gasped, gritting his teeth as Dana’s pulsing flesh tightened, then released him over and over as she climaxed, bucking and writhing under him. Cradling her hips in his hands, he raised her hips, lowered his head, and groaned out his release.

Heart pounding painfully in his chest, he struggled for each and every breath. Smiling, he reversed their positions, her silken legs sandwiched between his. It was perfect; she was perfect; the wait had been worth it.

They lay motionless, savoring the lingering vestiges of passion until they left the bed, walked into the bathroom, and shared a shower.

Forty-five minutes later they climbed the winding staircase in the house with a view of the Mississippi River, holding hands. They knew if they wanted to spend the night together, it couldn’t be at her house. There was enough gossip about Dana without adding her sleeping with the local doctor to the list.

Tyler had promised himself he would protect her—and he would at all costs, against all odds.

Seventeen

Turning to her right, Dana encountered a solid object. She opened her eyes, meeting the amused gaze of her lover. Ribbons of sunlight peeked under the floor-to-ceiling drapes. Smiling, she moved closer, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Hi.”

Cradling the back of her head, Tyler massaged her scalp. “Hi, yourself.” He buried his face in her hair. It was still damp from their shower earlier that morning. “How do you feel?”

She giggled like a little girl. “Wonderful.”

“Are you experiencing any pain?”

It came to her he wasn’t asking about her state of mind, but her body. “I’m a little sore.”

Pulling back, Tyler stared down at Dana, admiring the length of lashes touching the curve of her high cheekbones. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I promise I won’t touch you again until you’re completely healed.”

Peering up at him through her lashes, she flashed a sensual smile. “I love making love with you, Tyler.” Her cheeks flooded with heat as she revealed what lay in her heart.

He smiled. “And I you, darling.”

She moved closer to his side. “How were your hearings with the FDA?”

Tyler shifted her effortlessly until she lay over his
chest, her legs cradled between his. “Just a lot of talk, but nothing conclusive.”

“Are you in favor of approving the drug?”

“I’m still undecided.” The truth was he wasn’t in favor of approving the drug, not without more tests. “How’s the job at the
Herald
?” He’d deftly changed the topic. His findings and statements were off the record, because he’d taken an oath not to discuss them with anyone.

“Good. I did a lot of research on my great-grandfather. I think I have enough information to write a brief but in-depth piece on him. What makes writing the piece so exciting is that I found a large tin canister in my grandmother’s closet filled with photographs of deceased relatives on both sides. My father had to have given Grandma the photographs of his family, because how else would she have gotten them?”

When she’d opened the canister, she’d sat for hours poring over letters, newspaper articles, flyers announcing fund-raisers and dinner dances. She also found engraved invitations to weddings, birth announcements, and death certificates.

She’d wondered how her grandmother had come to have possession of the Nichols family archives. Had Alicia given them to her, or had Harry for safekeeping? And if Harry had given them to his mother-in-law, was it because he wanted to save the records preserving his family’s history before he torched his home, destroying the evidence, which could possibly link him to his wife’s murder?

“I discovered several well-preserved photographs of my paternal great-grandparents on their wedding day. There is one of Silas Nichols. He was dressed in a high-collared shirt and black suit and tie. Tall, with a dark, clean-shaven face, his dark eyes literally dance with
pride and excitement. I turned the photo over and the inscription read:
Dr. Silas J. Nichols—Graduation Day—Meherry Medical College, Nashville, Tennessee—May 1902
. I took that photograph and several others to a professional photographer in Greenville to have them restored.”

Tyler trailed his fingertips up and down Dana’s straight spine. “It’s admirable that your father followed in his grandfather’s steps by becoming a doctor.”

She shook her head. “My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were doctors. They all lived in Hillsboro, where they’d set up their family practice, tending the sick and caring for their people during a time when white doctors refused to treat people of color.”

Tyler snorted. “Whatever happened to
do no harm?
”

Lifting her head, Dana stared up at Tyler peering down at her. She didn’t know why, but she found him sexiest in the morning. His eyelids, heavy from sleep, and shadowed jaw afforded him a sense of virility she found impossible to ignore.

Tiny dots appeared between her eyes as she frowned. “Racism and bigotry is not only an illness but a sin.” Her frown vanished, replaced by an enigmatic smile. “Speaking of sin—I attended Mt. Nebo Baptist Church yesterday. I got there early and took a seat in a pew that my family had literally paid for when the members of the building fund were soliciting money to renovate the church twenty-five years ago.

“Everyone who came in saw me, stopped, and stared as if dumbstruck before moving on to their seats. The current pastor, who had been a deacon when I left Hillsboro, nearly fainted when he stepped up to the pulpit. I look exactly like my mother did, except for this.” She touched the tiny beauty mark on her right cheekbone.

Tyler laughed, displaying his straight white teeth. “He probably forgot his sermon.”

“He fumbled and stammered so much everyone started whispering and laughing behind their handheld fans. There was so much cardboard snapping that it sounded like rushing wind. I’d sat alone until the Wilsons came. It was apparent they’d claimed the pew for themselves since my grandmother had stopped coming to church after my mother died. Mr. Wilson looked as if he was about to have a stroke, while his wife started shaking so hard her son had to escort her downstairs. I stayed until Reverend Wingate gave his sermon, then left.”

“What was the topic of his sermon?”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then said, “The adulterous woman who Jesus saved from stoning by the Scribes and Pharisees. Every head in the church turned in my direction when the pastor said, ’Let the one among you who is guiltless be the first to throw a stone at her.’ I’m certain that had to be the quietest church service in Mt. Nebo’s ninety-eight-year history.”

“Lord, deliver us from hypocrites,” Tyler intoned in a grave tone.

“Amen.”

They lay in bed for another quarter of an hour, Dana outlining what she’d uncovered in the articles she’d read about Alicia’s murder and Harry’s trial. She also told him about the list of names she’d compiled and those she hoped to interview.

Tyler left the bed before Dana to shave and prepare himself for the day. She followed him ten minutes later, brushed her teeth, and then joined him in the oversized shower stall. They splashed each other like children after soaping each other’s bodies, the session ending with Tyler licking Dana from the top of her
head to the soles of her feet. It ended with a passionate kiss and a promise of more—much more.

After a light breakfast of fruit, juice, coffee, and toast, Tyler dropped Dana off at her house before heading to the clinic. She offered to cook dinner later that evening when he promised to let her interview him for her column.

Dana completed a handwritten draft of her article on Dr. Silas Nichols, editing it over and over until it her prose was lean, spare. She knew she could’ve accomplished the task in half the time it had taken her if she had a computer. She’d left her laptop in Carrollton. She knew she could always use the computers at the
Herald
, but that would not prove convenient if she wanted to work on something in the middle of the night.

Glancing at the first name on her list, she decided to stop to see if she could glean some information from ex-sheriff Philip Newcomb, but first she would call Ryan to see if he had a laptop computer to loan her. If not, then she would purchase one. There was no doubt it prove invaluable during her short stay.

Dana maneuvered into an area set aside for parking at the Crescent Moon Trailer Park. Her telephone call to the
Herald
answered two questions: Ryan did not have a laptop, but he did have Philip Newcomb’s latest address. Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb had sold their home, bought a double-wide, and had settled in a nearby trailer park.

Following the directions given her by a skinny barefoot boy, she made her way to a new trailer under a copse of pine trees. A mailbox with the name NEWCOMB
stenciled on the side identified the residence as the one owned by the ex-sheriff.

Stepping up on a large cinder block, Dana knocked on the door. Within seconds it opened, and a petite woman with a mass of jet-black hair teased and styled in a beehive hairdo glared at her. The hairstyle, doe-eyed liner on her lids, and the pale mouth harkened back to a time when miniskirts, Edwardian jackets, and love beads were in vogue.

Dana flashed a friendly smile. “Mrs. Newcomb, I’m Dana Nichols and I’d like to know if I could have a word with your husband.”

Mrs. Newcomb’s face flushed a deep red, making her mouth look even paler. “He doesn’t want to talk to you. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

Venom radiated from the woman, and Dana was tempted to turn and go back to her car. But she didn’t, deciding to stand her ground. She needed answers—answers she knew the ex-sheriff could give her.

“Your husband doesn’t even know that I’m here. Why don’t you ask him whether he’ll see me?”

Folding her hands on her hips, Mrs. Newcomb shook her head from side to side. “No! Now you git the hell out of here and go back where you came from.” Stepping back, she slammed the door in Dana’s face.

Dana stood motionless, staring at the closed door. If she hadn’t been so shocked, she would’ve laughed at how she’d been dismissed. At least the angry woman could’ve warned her that she was going to slam the door in her face.

Stepping down off the cinder block that doubled as a step, she made her way back to her car. She’d struck out with the first name on her list, and wondered how
many more doors would be slammed in her face before it was time for her to return to New York.

If Philip Newcomb refused to help her, then perhaps the current sheriff would. She would call Lily, asking for her husband’s assistance. After all, William, a former special agent with the F.B.I. and now the current sheriff, had married her best friend. She doubted whether he would refuse to help her.

The sheriff’s office was located in a brick structure behind Hillsboro’s town hall. Parking in a municipal lot, she walked the short distance to the sheriff’s office. Pushing open the door, she stepped into a cool space with several desks and an area set aside for a state-of-the art computer system, office machines, and a large display case with colorful arm patches from police departments all over the country. There were several rooms in the rear of the building, one a holding cell for prisoners.

William Clark hadn’t changed much in twenty years, except to bulk up. His starched tan uniform fit his muscular body like a second skin. His sandy-brown hair was cropped close to his head, while his clear brown eyes sparkled in his burnished gold face. Rising slowly to his feet, he stared at her as if she were an apparition.

“Lily told me you were back.”

Dana smiled. Even his voice was the same—deep and soulful. Everyone said he should’ve become a radio disc jockey, but Billy preferred law enforcement.

He returned her smile, extending his arms, and she walked into his embrace. “Welcome home, Dana,” he said, pressing his mustached mouth to her cheek.

She pressed her lips to his smooth cheek. “Thank you, Billy. Lily came to see me last week, then I saw
her and your mother at church yesterday, but I didn’t stay to talk to her.”

“My mama told me about everybody’s reaction to seeing you.” A slight frown marred his forehead. “The only argument Lily and I ever have is about my not going to church. I keeping telling her that I have no intention of sitting down with a bunch of Bible-thumping, psalm-singing vipers who grin in your face from eleven to one on Sundays, then cuss you, your mama, and your firstborn the other six days of the week. She calls me a heathen, but this heathen would rather spend his Sundays driving to Three J’s, where I can put my feet up, down half a bushel of blue crabs, suck on a couple of long-neck beers, while listening to a jukebox filled with the best music in the whole damn state.”

Dana had to smile. It was apparent Tyler wasn’t the only one who liked patronizing Three J’s. Pulling out of Billy’s loose embrace, she told him what she needed from him. She also told him about Mrs. Newcomb’s refusal to let her talk to her husband. Billy listened, not interrupting until she was finished.

“I’m certain I can retrieve Newcomb’s records, but it may take me a while. When would you need them?”

“Anytime before the end of September.”

“I should have them to you next week.”

She offered him a bright smile. “Thank you, Billy.”

“Think nothing of it. Expect a call from Lily. We usually throw a little something every July Fourth. We’d love for you to come. We bought the place where the Bowdens used to live.”

“Thanks for the invitation. I wouldn’t miss it.” Moving closer, she kissed him again. “Your daughter is beautiful.”

Beaming, he nodded. “Along with her mother, she’s the love of my life.”

Turning on her heel, Dana walked out of the sheriff’s office to where she’d parked her car, a satisfied smile on her face; she was batting .500. Billy Clark would give her what she hadn’t been able to secure from Philip Newcomb.

It was later that afternoon, as she stood in the kitchen washing a whole chicken for a dinner she planned to cook and share with Tyler, when Dana recalled Billy Clark’s statement:
Along with her mother, she’s the love of my life
.

Lily had taken a chance on love and married her childhood crush. Why, then, was it so difficult for her to trust Tyler enough to accept what he was offering her? The whys attacked her relentlessly as she forced herself to concentrate on preparing a special meal for a man she’d not only given her body to, but also her heart.