Midnight Hour (20 page)

When concern still clouded her eyes, Nick realized that protection wasn’t all she was worried about. “Mercy Alay Malone, you’re taking this whole deal much too seriously. This is Nick, darlin’. I know you’re not Midnight Mercy, and I don’t give a damn. I want you. I have wanted you since your sexy mouth fell open the first time I saw you. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven right there on your porch.”

Mercy opened her mouth to protest, but Nick silenced her by laying two fingers across her lips. Despite his reassuring smile, she noticed the deep need in his eyes, like the hot coals of a carefully banked fire. He whispered, “Don’t say anything. I’m trying to take this slowly. And I gotta tell you, it ain’t easy.”

When Mercy’s tongue brushed deliberately against his fingertips, Nick cursed and replaced the fingers with his mouth. He had no other choice, not if she didn’t want to take things slowly. They wanted each other, and within that passion there was no room for doubts or tomorrow or gentleness. He curled one hand around the nape of her neck and walked backward, still kissing her, into the bedroom. His other hand was already unfastening her studded belt, sliding it out of the loops with one smooth pull.

Its silver tip and buckle hit the hardwood floor a second later, and with it fell Mercy’s inhibitions. Her hands returned the favor by removing his belt, and Nick broke the kiss only long enough to pull off her soft cotton T-shirt. Both hands cradled her
head as he nipped her bottom lip and then sealed his mouth to hers, thrusting deeply when she opened for him.

His hands slid down her throat and over her shoulders, catching her bra straps and slipping them down. His mouth followed the trail of his hands, leaving a moist path along one collarbone as he worked loose the bra clasp in the back. Impatiently, he stripped the sheer undergarment away, freeing her breasts to his gaze and touch.

Mercy’s breath came in ragged fits and starts as his wet mouth sucked one nipple. When he started to tip her onto the bed, Mercy refused. Right now, she wanted as much of him as he had of her. Grabbing fistfuls of his shirt at the waist, she pulled it out of his trousers, but Nick took over and lifted it over his head, flinging it to the floor.

“Are we even now?” he asked as he scooped her into his arms, against his bare chest, soaking up the softness of her curves.

“Not quite,” Mercy told him as she kicked off her shoes and let her mouth retrace the steps his had taken earlier. She could taste the salt of his skin, and his nipple pebbled as she drew a circle around it with her tongue.

Nick groaned as he pushed her away. “Easy,
chère.
We’re not half through, and you’re trying to do me in.”

While he took her mouth in another kiss, he undid her jeans, slipping a hand between the thin fabric of her panties and her belly. Knowing what he wanted and wanting it just as much, Mercy widened her stance,
arching a bit into his searching fingers. When he found the curls at the apex of her thighs, a tiny moan began to form in the back of her throat.

As Nick brushed the soft bud of her womanhood, he swallowed her moan and let his fingers sink into her heat. Everything about her was soft and welcoming. She was as moist for him as he was hard for her. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and cupped her rump, guiding her to match his rhythm as he pressed his arousal against her.

Dieu
, but he wanted this woman! Just touching her brought him close to the edge.

Mercy sensed the spiraling need in Nick that matched the rising desire she felt. When she freed his erection from the confines of his trousers, she was rewarded with an utterly masculine sound of satisfaction. His arousal pulsed beneath her fingers as she caressed him. Mercy reveled in the power she felt within her grasp and the urgency she could create with a few strokes.

“
Mais non, chère
,” Nick told her, knowing that if he let her continue, he wouldn’t be able to control his release. He wanted to complete what they had started, but he needed to be inside her, as deep as he could get. “If I’m going to finish, I’m going to finish inside you.”

His blunt language sent a wave of excitement rolling through her, because she knew she’d brought him to this point. Stripping off the rest of their clothing and sheathing Nick’s erection only took a moment, and then he pressed Mercy down onto the bed. He stroked and touched her, played with her until he felt her body begin to tense. Then he slid his knee
between her thighs as he rose above her, urging her to open to him without words.

Nick caught his breath and paused as his hardness met her softness. With an effort that took all his concentration, he entered her slowly, creating a velvet torture for himself. All his self-control vanished when Mercy’s inner muscles contracted around him and her hips rose to bring him completely inside her.

Together they found a hard rhythm that sent them rushing toward the finish. Every stroke felt more intimate and deeper than the last. Mercy’s head twisted gently from side to side, and a soft cry tore from her throat as she reached for and caught the stars that exploded around her. Nick’s own climax was wrung from him at the sound of her pleasure, leaving him spent and sated as he felt completion course through him in shock waves of satisfaction.

Nick gently transferred Mercy’s sleeping body from his arms to the pillow and tucked the sheet around her. He tugged on his shorts and trousers before he quietly left the room. In her kitchen, he made some coffee, noting the fact that since the last time he’d rummaged around her pantry, she’d bought some chicory blend at a gourmet shop. Little by little he was becoming a part of her thoughts, and he liked that.

While the coffee brewed he studied the dawn as it crept through the branches of the huge crab-apple tree by the backyard fence. He felt a little like the dawn himself, sneaking up on Mercy’s subconscious. Last night he’d made love to her a second time, as if
the most intimate act between a man and a woman could bind her to him and make her forget whatever demons scared her away from love.

If nothing else, last night taught him that he wanted more than a place in Mercy’s life. He wanted a place in her heart. Too bad the woman’s heart lit up with a No Vacancy sign whenever a man got close. She guarded her heart the way that damn crab-apple tree guarded the fence. Somehow he’d have to find a way to slip in under her guard. He’d have to, because he wasn’t going to give her up. If that meant backing off until she got used to the idea of loving him, then he’d try.

Mercy woke up, not because light filtered into the room announcing daybreak, but because she reached for and couldn’t find Nick. Sitting upright, she smelled the coffee and saw his shoes and his purple polo shirt on the floor. Unfortunately, she didn’t know whether she should be glad to find that Nick hadn’t fled into the darkness after last night or appalled that he was such an early riser.

When she glanced at the alarm clock, she groaned and pulled the covers over her head, trying to go back to sleep. Anytime before seven o’clock was too early to rise by her standards. Too early to do anything! Especially on weekends. Especially on annoyingly quiet weekends like this one. She could hear the silence in the room; it was deafening. Resigned, Mercy uncovered her head and said, “If you’re going to stick around, Dr. Devereaux, we’re going to have to get a few ground rules straight.”

As soon as she said it, Mercy clamped a hand over her mouth and bolted upright, clutching the covers to her.
Now you’ve done it. You’re thinking in terms of Nick being a permanent fixture. Get a grip, Mercy May. What you had was great sex, not the beginning of something beautiful. You know what will happen if you allow yourself to get attached. You’ll forget where his life ends and yours begins. “I” becomes “we,” and when he’s gone, you’ll hurt like hell because you won’t remember how to be alone.

Dragging the sheet around her, Mercy got purposefully out of bed and crossed the room. She pulled clean underwear out of a drawer and grabbed the first top and pair of shorts her hands touched. Tiptoeing across the hallway, she locked herself in the bathroom to recover from the shock of having admitted, even to herself, that she wanted Nick to be more than a good time, more than a friend. Those were scary thoughts. How could she forget, even for a moment, the bitter fights and broken relationships that littered her childhood like Nick’s clothes littered her floor?

Falling in love was like letting someone sink their teeth into your chest and standing idly by, waiting for them to rip your heart out. No, the life her parents had wasn’t for her.
Then why are you hoping for more than last night?

Mercy plucked her toothbrush out of the holder and tried to come up with an answer. Once her teeth sparkled, her face was scrubbed, and her hair brushed, she’d convinced herself that having more than a one-night stand with Nick wasn’t the same thing as losing her heart to him. She could cut it off anytime she wanted, she promised herself as she stared into the medicine-cabinet mirror. “An affair is
more than a good time and technically less than a serious relationship. Right? Right.”

Ready to face Nick, Mercy left the bathroom. After all, why should she deny herself the pleasure of his company, in or out of bed, as long as he could be trusted to maintain the proper perspective. He seemed willing to do that. At the roadhouse, hadn’t he promised he didn’t want anything more than she was ready to give?

Her clever conscience waited until she was halfway down the stairs before reminding her that what Nick had actually said was he “wouldn’t
take
anything more than she was
willing
to give.” The man hadn’t made any promises beyond that.

Obviously, he hadn’t made any promises about being discreet either, since the front door stood wide open. Mercy suspected Nick was resting in the swing, barefoot and bare-chested for all the neighborhood to see. The man certainly had a flair for creating small-town gossip.

Mercy hesitated before walking onto the porch, afraid of what she might find. Having everything about last night analyzed, organized, and explained in her own mind didn’t mean that Nick had come to the same conclusions. What if he wouldn’t settle for an affair? What if he had that look, the one men got when they finally decided to make a monogamous commitment? What if he got all morning-after sappy and wanted promises she couldn’t make?

She honestly didn’t know what she’d say, because what she felt for Nick she’d never felt for anyone else. Friendship and passion were all mixed up with the fear of trusting him. Of trusting in love. Hadn’t she seen
marriage after marriage break up because somebody stopped caring? She reminded herself that the trick was not to care in the first place.

Steeling herself, she pushed open the screen. As it turned out, the first words out of Nick’s mouth were far from morning-after sappy. They were downright rude and did more to put her at ease than anything he could have done.

“It lives, I see,” Nick said, and saluted her with his coffee. He lowered his cup and added, “Barely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked indignantly, all her concerns forgotten as she reached to take a sip of his coffee and plopped down beside him.

“It means you were dead to the world when I got up.”

“Everybody was dead to the world when you got up,” she pointed out testily.

“I wouldn’t know about everybody. ’Cause I couldn’t hear everybody else snoring.”

“I don’t snore!”

“I didn’t say you did. I just said that I couldn’t hear everybody else.”

He grinned at her, and Mercy thought maybe, just maybe, falling into bed with Nick Devereaux hadn’t been a mistake after all. Instead of looking for promises, he was looking for her sense of humor. Instead
of crowding her this morning, he’d given her space. More importantly, instead of leaving, he’d parked his rump on her front porch, silently assuring her that he wanted more than last night but was willing to take everything one step at a time.

They swung in peace for a moment before they heard the argument between Sophie and Witch. Sophie won. Her neighbor refused to be dragged across the street at a breakneck pace and dug in her heels at the curb edge, sternly telling Witch to hold her horses. “Mercy! Send that young man of yours over here to get this dog before I say a few things to her that will make my pastor frown.”

Knowing now was not the time to debate whether or not Nick was her “young man,” Mercy simply waved and hollered, “Right away!”

“Throwing me to the wolves?” Nick asked as he got up and padded across the porch.

“Better you than me,” she said right behind him. “Maybe she’ll be too polite to ask you personal questions about why you’re practically naked and sitting on my porch.”

Nick paused at the edge of the steps to study the elderly woman who had managed to subdue Witch by having her lie down and then standing on the leash. Sophie waited with her arms akimbo and an expectant expression on her face. Shaking his head, Nick said, “Don’t fool yourself. Sophie would ask personal questions of the pope without blinking an eye.”

Pushing him from behind, Mercy said, “Just remember. Only name, rank, and serial number.” She stopped him by placing a hand on his biceps to whisper, “But don’t be abrupt. Be casual, or she’ll
smell a secret. Talk about gardening or the weather.”

“Only name, rank, and serial number,” Nick repeated as he walked through the yard. Since Sophie had begun tapping her foot at his leisurely pace, he loped across the asphalt street and held out his hand for the leash.

Instead of the lead, Sophie handed him a conversational hot potato. “I see you’ve made some progress with our Mercy since that picnic.”

“Yes, ma’am. Considerable.” Nick continued to hold out his hand as he repeated to himself, name, rank, and serial number.

“Well,” Sophie huffed as she slapped the leather strap into his palm and stepped away from the Labrador. “With that attitude you’re not likely to make any more progress, are you?”

Surprised, Nick gave the older woman a hard stare, and Mercy’s advice was completely forgotten. “Exactly what are you trying to tell me, Sophie?”