Man on a Mission (10 page)

“Yeah. I think God decided if he wasn't going to give us trees and lakes, he'd give us great sunrises and sunsets, and set the stars so low in the sky it looks like you could just reach up and pluck one and put it in your pocket.”

His tone of voice was the same one he used to soothe the horses—gentle, deep and intoxicating. She wanted him to continue talking like that forever. Instead he pointed up ahead. “The barn is just over that rise,” he said.

Within minutes the structure came into sight. Weathered and tall, it looked as abandoned as it had the night April had come here by herself.

She parked in front of it, and they got out of the car. “From outward appearances, it doesn't look like anyone's been around here for years,” Mark said.

As they moved toward the door, April walked closer to Mark, remembering the sheer panic that had driven her out of the barn before.

The door creaked as he opened it, and the waning evening sun cast its golden light into the interior. Mark stepped in first, April right behind him.

It looked exactly as it had before, from the dust and sand on the floor to the broom standing in the corner. “Where were you when you thought you heard a voice?” he asked.

“I'm not sure…. Standing somewhere there in the center, I think. I'm sure I just imagined it. It's obvious nobody has been here for some time.”

“I'm going to check out the loft,” he said, and moved toward the stairs.

April waited below, trying to ignore a shiver of apprehension that danced up her spine as he disappeared from her view. She wasn't sure why, but this place gave her the creeps.

She breathed a sigh of relief as Mark came back down the stairs. “Nothing up there,” he said. “Just a lot of cobwebs.”

A rustling noise came from one of the dark corners. April froze as Mark reached into his boot and pulled out a small pistol. A large lizard raced across the floor. As it headed for the door, it left tiny footprints in the dust.

“You have a gun.” April stated the obvious as the lizard disappeared into the evening.

He tucked the gun back into his boot. “I always carry when away from the house. Out here it's common to run into all kinds of varmint.”

April didn't even want to think about varmints, either four-legged, six-legged or the most dangerous of all—two-legged. “You ready to go?” she asked, a shiver racing up her spine despite the warmth of the air.

“Yeah, I guess. I don't see anything here that will help me figure things out.” Disappointment laced his voice. “Head out that way,” he said when they were back in the car, and pointed to the right of where April thought the ranch was. “We'll stop by my place and get something cold to drink before heading back.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. It was April who finally broke the quiet. “I'm sorry, Mark, that you didn't find what you were looking for.”

He shrugged. “I was just hoping…I don't know. I'm not even sure I know what I was hoping to find.” He sat up straighter in the seat. “But at least now I know whatever is going on isn't going on at the old barn.”

“So, by process of elimination, you're one step closer to learning where it's going on.”

He laughed, and again April was struck by the ut
terly pleasant sound. “Are you always so optimistic?”

“Most of the time. Even when Derrick, my ex-husband, left me alone with Brian and a mountain of bills, I didn't lose hope that things would be better.” She frowned thoughtfully and parked in front of Mark's house. “It wasn't until my dad's death and the realization that he'd spent everything, that I felt true devastation.”

She turned off the car and looked at him. “When Brian and I arrived here, I was pretty defeated. I felt like we were cast out of our previous life without any preparation for a new one.”

“And now?”

She smiled. “And now my natural optimism has returned.” It was true. In the past week April had once again found her hope—the hope that her future would be brighter, the hope that eventually she'd find a special man who could fill the holes inside her, a man who would want to parent her son, who was so desperate for a father.

“Tell me about your ex-husband,” Mark asked.

“I'll trade you one sad story for an icy cold soda,” she replied.

He grinned. “Deal.”

Together they got out of the car and walked to the house. Mark unlocked the front door and led her through the attractive living room to the kitchen. She sat at the table while he grabbed two sodas from the refrigerator, then he joined her.

He popped the top of her can, handed it to her, then eyed her expectantly.

“I had just turned eighteen when I met Derrick,”
she began. “He was twenty-two and I thought he was the most handsome, charming, together man I'd ever met.” April sighed as her memories pulled her back in time. “My mother had just passed away, and I was reeling with the loss. Derrick filled me with dreams of a wonderful future together.”

She shook her head with a rueful smile. “If there's one thing Derrick could do very well, it was dream. Unfortunately, the dreams were rarely followed up with anything that remotely resembled work.”

“You didn't know that when you married him?” Mark's soft voice pulled her from the past.

“No. We dated for three months, then I discovered I was pregnant. We married and, with a little nest egg I'd saved, managed to buy a small house complete with a white picket fence.”

“Ah, the old picket fence trick.”

She smiled, recognizing he was attempting to keep her memories, her foray into the past, painless. “Yeah, that picket fence gets to women every time.” She paused to take a drink of her soda. “The long and short of it is that Derrick always had a get-rich-quick scheme. I worked and saved money, and he dreamed and spent what little I could save. By the time our marriage ended, we'd lost the house, we had massive credit-card debt, and Derrick had disappeared.”

“And you never heard from him again?”

“Up until the time of my father's death a month ago, Derrick would call occasionally.” She frowned and her hand tightened around the soda can. “He'd call to ask to borrow money, but he'd never ask to
speak with Brian. With each of those phone calls, any pain I'd felt over the demise of my marriage left me.”

A small, self-conscious laugh escaped her. “Anyway, that's my story. After Derrick, Brian and I moved in with my father. I worked at a hotel as a social director, and Dad watched Brian for me. I thought I was finally getting back on my feet, until I discovered that Dad had lost everything.” She winced and offered Mark a small smile. “I seem to have a habit of trusting the wrong men in my life.”

To her surprise he reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Warmth swept up her arm. His hand was big enough to completely engulf hers, and she could feel the calluses that spoke of hard labor—calluses that only added to the tactile pleasure of his hand over hers.

“I'm sorry you've had a rough time.” His voice was soft as a whisper in her ear, as potent as a caress across her bare flesh.

With a flush of heat rising through her, she pulled her hand away and stood. “Why don't you give me a tour of your house? You mentioned the other night that you built it yourself.” The pitch of her voice sounded higher than normal to her own ears.

“Okay,” he agreed and stood, a lazy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The smile told her he knew what had caused her slight breathlessness, the higher pitch to her voice.

Desire.

He led her through the living room and down a hallway. “We'll start the tour back here,” he said as he opened a door to reveal an empty spare room. “I built the house five years ago.”

He opened the next door in the hallway to show her what appeared to be another spare bedroom, although this one held a double bed and a dresser. Next was a bathroom. “I was engaged and thought this was going to be a home for me and my wife and our family.”

April looked at him in surprise. “What happened?”

He frowned as he led her to the last doorway. “She broke it off.” He smiled wryly. “I forgot to build a picket fence. She found somebody else who had one.” He opened up the last door to reveal what was obviously the master bedroom.

“Oh, Mark. What a wonderful view.” April walked across the thick, plush carpeting to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and the French door that led out to a rock and cactus garden.

As she looked out to where the sun was just giving a final kiss of color to the sky, she was aware of Mark coming to stand behind her.

She was also acutely aware of the king-size bed. As she'd passed it to get to the windows, she'd noticed the blue bedspread with narrow cranberry stripes. Bold. Masculine.

Like Mark.

“This is my favorite time of day to be here in this room.” His voice was once again that soft, deep lull that made her want to close her eyes and fall into him.

She knew she should move away from him the moment he placed his hands on her shoulders. But she couldn't move. She was trapped by the need she felt flowing from him. And if she were perfectly honest
with herself, she'd admit that she was captive to her own need, as well.

She turned to him and saw the colors of the sunset reflected in his eyes, flames of desire that danced amid the steel-gray flecks.

“April.” He whispered her name in the instant before his lips claimed hers.

Any thought she had of moving, of stepping away from him, banished beneath the fire of his kiss. His arms wound around her, pulling her tight against him, and in the hardness of his body she recognized the extent of his need.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue lightly touching first her lower lip, then delving into her mouth to battle with her own.

April raised her hands, skimming upward over the bulge of his biceps, across the expanse of his shoulders, and locked her fingers at the nape of his neck.

His kiss stole all thought from her mind, weakened her knees with its intensity and lit a hunger deep inside her that ached to be fulfilled.

When he finally raised his mouth from hers, she again told herself to step away from him. But her body refused to leave the warmth and thrill of his arms.

“April, I want you.” The yearning in his voice stirred her more deeply than anything else she had ever heard. His gaze held hers intently, and she knew he waited for her answer.

She also knew she could tell him no, halt the insanity at this very moment and there would be no hard feelings, no negative repercussions. She could walk
away from this moment and this man and spend the rest of her life regretting it.

Why not? A little voice whispered as she caught a glimpse of the massive bed. Why not give in to temptation and just enjoy being a woman with this man? She had absolutely nothing he could take from her. Her money was gone, her home sold, her pitiful possessions not worth anything.

She had nothing more to lose to any man.

Decision made, she smiled at him, a tremulous smile, as she stepped out of his arms and walked to the side of the bed.

His eyes flared hot and hungry as she sank down onto the bedspread and beckoned him to join her. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky. “I'm not offering a picket fence.”

“I'm not asking for one,” she replied. “Just right now…that's all I want.”

Apparently it was exactly the reply he was waiting for.

Before she could catch her breath, he joined her on the bed and pulled her against him for a kiss more fiery than the last.

W
hen Mark had suggested they stop by the house for something cold to drink, there had been no thought of seduction on his mind.

But the moment he'd seen her standing at his bedroom windows with the golden hues of dusk cascading over her, his desire to take her, possess her, had suddenly raged out of control.

Now his mouth claimed hers with fierce hunger as he pulled her closer against him. She fit perfectly, her breasts pressed into his chest and her long legs against his.

As he deepened the kiss with his tongue, his fingers worked the buttons of her blouse. He realized someplace in the back of his mind that he'd wanted her from the first time he'd seen her.

She'd stood on their front porch, looking so achingly vulnerable and something about her, in that first
moment of meeting her and every moment since, had drawn him.

He knew she'd been drawn to him, as well. He'd recognized her attraction, seen it in her features, felt it pulse in the air between them.

The past three nights of working at her kitchen table, sitting next to her, had been an exquisite form of torture. He'd left her cottage each night with the scent of her whirling dizzily in his head, creating a tension in him that threatened to explode.

As he unfastened the last button on her blouse, he broke his kiss and gazed down at her, giving her a final opportunity to halt what had begun.

Her eyes were as he'd imagined they would be, the deep green of summer heat. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, and her breathing was rapid. Her beauty ached inside him, and he wanted more…all of her. But he didn't want to take what she didn't want to give.

She apparently sensed his hesitation. She parted her unbuttoned blouse, exposing to his heated gaze a pale pink lacy bra and the full thrust of her breasts beneath.

The simple gesture was all the acquiescence he needed. With a groan, he splayed his hands over her bra, and his mouth sought hers once again.

Her nipples hardened beneath his hands, pressing up taut against the lace bra. Mark's heart beat frantically as she moved her hands beneath his shirt, her fingers dancing up the bare skin of his back.

Mark quickly grew impatient with the clothing that still separated them. He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. Aware of her gaze on him, he stood next to the bed and removed his boots.

He placed the pistol on the floor next to the bed, then took off his jeans, leaving himself clad only in a pair of briefs that in no way could hide his intense desire.

He pulled her to a sitting position, then gently pushed the blouse from her shoulders, allowing it to fall from her body and to the bed behind her.

He didn't speak, nor did she. The only sounds in the room was the whisper of material as it was removed and their rapid breathing.

As he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, he pressed his lips against the side of her neck, savoring the soft, scented skin. She gasped in pleasure and tilted her head back, allowing him further access to her neck and throat.

The bra fell away, exposing her bare breasts to his hungry gaze. He covered them with his hands, her nipples pebble hard against his palm. She moaned, and the sound of her pleasure shot fire through his veins.

As he moved his mouth to where his hands had been, she tangled her hands in his hair, her breath coming in tiny pants and sighs.

Gently he leaned her back on the bed, so she was again stretched out. His fingers trembled as he worked to unfasten her jeans. When he got them undone, she helped him remove them by lifting her hips.

Only her pale pink panties and his briefs separated them now. Mark moved so his lower body was on top of hers. She welcomed him, parting her legs to allow him to nestle as close as possible.

Even with the material that kept them from com
plete intimate contact, he could feel the heat that radiated from her very center. It was a heat that beckoned him, forced the blood to surge through him, and he struggled to maintain control.

Mark had known instinctively that April had a well of passion inside her. He'd seen flashes of it in her eyes whenever he'd touched her. Now that passion was unleashed. She met his kisses with a hunger of her own, met him caress for caress, stroke for stroke as their foreplay lingered.

Her fingers danced across the expanse of his back, warm and teasing. At the same time her hips moved beneath his. At first her movement was tentative, almost imperceptible.

Mark shifted slightly so he was pressed against her heat. It was an exquisite form of torture, to be so close to possessing her, yet stymied by the thin material of underclothes.

April gasped as he met her hip thrust. At the same time he lowered his head to capture the peak of her breast with his mouth. He could feel her heartbeat thundering with pleasure and knew the rhythm of her heart matched his own.

It didn't take long before he had to banish the last of the barriers that separated them. He needed complete possession, wanted to own her for this moment.

He rolled off her, pleasure winging through him as she moaned in abandonment. He quickly turned her moan of displeasure to one of satisfaction as he eased her panties down and off.

The light in the room had nearly extinguished with the coming of night, leaving the room in the dusky
purple of deep twilight. And it was in this surreal illumination that Mark gazed at April, taking in the lines and curves of her nakedness.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. It was true. She wasn't model thin. She was lush and rounded and all the things a woman should be.

He saw the shiver that worked through her—recognized it wasn't the temperature of the room that caused it, but rather his words—and the intense desire that shone from her eyes. Their green depths beckoned him into the heat she offered.

He took off his briefs and once again covered her body with his own. As his mouth covered hers, he slowly eased himself into her.

She welcomed him, her arms wrapping around him to pull him closer…closer still. He was aware of a racing heartbeat, but couldn't discern if it was hers or his own.

For a long moment he didn't move, couldn't move for fear of completely losing control. She surrounded him with moist heat.

He knew if he moved, it would be the beginning of the end. And he didn't want it to end. Not yet. He hadn't had nearly enough of her sweet lips, her heady scent or her soft skin.

As much as he didn't want to move, his body had a mind of its own. Despite any desire to the contrary, his hips moved without volition, thrusting rhythmically against hers.

She met him thrust for thrust, hands clutching, fingers raking across his back. Moans of pleasure escaped her and fed his exhilaration. As they moved
faster and faster together, Mark gave himself over completely to the sweet summer heat of April.

“You okay?” he asked moments later as they lingered side by side on the bed. He could just make out her features in the soft moonlight that drifted in the window.

“Sure.” She propped herself up on one elbow facing him. “It's just been a long time for me. I'm not sure I remember how to make small talk after sex.”

He smiled, finding her candor refreshing. “I'm just grateful you didn't decide to try to small talk
during
sex.”

She laughed, a wonderfully sexy sound. “I couldn't think, let alone small talk.” She reached out and touched his cheek.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. For a moment he wished they could remain here forever. No ranch, no murder, no world outside of the bed that held the two of them.

“This is nice,” she said. “But I should get back.” Still she made no effort to move, as if she were reluctant to release the moment.

He pulled her close to him and for a few minutes simply held her in the moonlight that spilled into the window. He wondered what it would be like to sleep like this every night, with the warmth of a woman in his arms…with the warmth of April in his arms.

“I should get back,” she repeated. This time she left his arms, scooted off the bed, grabbed her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

Mark rolled over on his back and stared unseeing at the ceiling. Somehow the simple touch of her hand
to his cheek had almost seemed more intimate than the lovemaking they'd just shared.

The directions of his thoughts as he'd held her had been frightening. What kind of fool was he to imagine that he could be enough for a woman like April? That he could make her happy for a lifetime? Foolish thoughts.

He frowned, hoping he hadn't just made an enormous mistake. He liked April, liked her a lot. But she deserved somebody who could give her things he couldn't. If he gave her the opportunity, eventually she'd find him lacking, as Rachel had. He didn't intend to give her the chance.

He rolled off the bed and grabbed his clothes. By the time he was dressed, she was out of the bathroom. Together they left the house. “You can drive back,” she said as she handed him the keys to her car. “I don't trust my sense of direction in the dark.”

Again Mark had the feeling that somehow a transition had occurred between them. In the act of handing over the keys to her car, she'd indicated a new sense of trust in him.

They rode in silence for a moment. “What was she like?” April broke the silence.

Mark didn't need to ask whom she was speaking of. “Then or now?” he asked.

“Either…both.”

Mark thought of the woman he'd once believed he would marry. “Rachel was a nice woman…still is. Her father was friends with mine. It was my father's idea that we date.”

“Your father liked her?”

Mark tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “My
father wanted heirs for the ranch. He thought Rachel would be a good mother.” In actuality, what Adam had said was that Rachel had the wide hips that would probably make her a good brood mare.

He struggled to loosen his grasp on the steering wheel despite the tension that suddenly assailed him. “My father wanted grandsons and I was the chosen one to continue the Delaney line. Matthew was too important to the ranch to waste himself being a husband and father. Luke was too young and too wild to fulfill that particular duty.”

“And so you were to be the sacrificial lamb, so to speak.”

“Yeah, although at the time it didn't seem like such a terrible way to sacrifice myself.” He offered her a wry grin. “Far better than having to fling myself into the mouth of an active volcano.”

“So, what happened?”

Mark focused his attention out the window and reached back into his past to retrieve bits of memory. “Nothing earth-shattering. Rachel and I dated, began planning our wedding and I started work on this house. As the house went up, I realized Rachel seemed to be distancing herself from me. Finally, a month before the wedding, she told me she couldn't go through with it, that she just didn't love me.”

He didn't share with April all the reasons Rachel had listed. A litany of sins for which Mark had no answer.

“Were you devastated?”

He thought for a moment before replying. “At first I was. Then I realized I was more upset about ruining my father's plans than I was about losing Rachel.”

“Where is she now?”

“Married to Samuel Rogers who owns the ranch next to ours. She's the mother of two and seems genuinely happy. I'm glad for her. She deserves to be happy.”

“And what about you?”

“Me? I'm grateful the entire experience happened. It made me realize I'm not cut out to be a husband. Marriage is definitely not in my future.”

He was grateful to see the lights of the ranch just ahead, because he was suddenly irritated by her questions, questions that were making him remember his own inadequacies.

He'd allowed her the intimacy of his body, but that didn't mean he owed her the intimacy of his mind. “What is this, twenty questions?” he snapped suddenly.

She stiffened her shoulders. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

But he knew that was exactly what she meant to do. And it scared him. He didn't want her to think that what they'd just shared implied promise, held the hope of any future.

“Mark, I don't want you to think that tonight changes anything.”

He stopped the car in front of her cottage and turned to her in surprise. Apparently she'd been thinking the same things he had.

“You don't have to worry that because we slept together I now have expectations of a relationship. I don't.” She opened her car door, and in the light that blinked on overhead he saw the blush that stained her cheeks.

She held out her hand for her keys, and he handed them to her. “Mark, I like having you as a friend, but I'm certainly not looking for a relationship. I've had enough men in my life to last me a lifetime.” Her blush intensified. “The sex was great, but that's all it was.” She got out of the car and closed the door.

Mark quickly followed, somehow feeling like a heel.

“April.” He caught up with her as she was unlocking her front door. She turned to him, her face achingly beautiful in the silvery moonlight. The need to apologize was quickly overwhelmed by the greater need to capture her lips with his.

And he did just that, capturing her lips with his. She briefly accepted his kiss, then stepped away from him. “Good night, Mark.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said, but before he could say anything else she slipped through the door and was gone.

He stood for a long moment on her porch, staring up at the moon overhead and trying to work through the conflicting emotions that raced through him. She'd said everything he'd wanted to hear. He should be feeling at ease.

And yet, the casual way she'd dismissed their lovemaking as simple sex bothered him. He scoffed inwardly at himself and stepped off her porch.

Heading back to the main house, he told himself things were just as they should be with April. He should be feeling just fine. After all, she expected nothing from him and that was exactly what he could give her. Because he was Mark Delaney…because he was his father's son.