Springer, Jan - The Pleasure Girl [The Desperadoes 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (5 page)

 
As she watched her husband of eleven years working in the lush lavender fields, she’d barely been able to contain the bubbling happiness of what she suspected. She dare not raise Max’s hopes again only to find out it was a false alarm. It had happened three times over the past two years since they began trying to get pregnant.

The look of devastation on his face depressed her for weeks, and it made her feel like a failure as a wife because she knew he wanted a lot of kids and so did she. This time around, though, she was playing it nice and cool, at least in front of him. That is, until she found out for sure whether the early pregnancy kit gave her a positive reading or not. If it did, she would go to the doctor and have it confirmed this time before she so much as uttered a peep.

Trying to keep her mind off her excitement, she forced herself to gaze at her prairie surroundings. As always, the sparse dots of farmhouses, silver silos, and fields of round hay bales baking in the sunshine soothed her rattled nerves.

Heart Creek was a bustling farm town of five thousand people nestled in the foothills of the Canadian Rocky Mountains. It had a main street with a bakery, a hardware store, two restaurants, and one mall. It also boasted the only drive-in theatre for miles. This area was her home, and despite having a three-year stint as a grocery cashier in the busy Canadian city of Calgary, Alberta, after finishing high school, she’d come back home to marry her high school sweetheart, Max Sutton.

She’d never regretted her decision, but she sometimes wondered if Max did, especially when she caught him gazing longingly at their relatives’ endless stream of kids.

Since their lavender farm was around fifteen miles from town, it didn’t take long for her to swing her truck off the paved highway onto the dusty road that bordered their five hundred acres.

They’d named their place Heart Pond Farm due to the huge man-made pond her husband had created about half a mile from their two-story, three-bedroom farmhouse. She could hardly wait to get home and hoped Max was still out in the fields so she could sneak into the house and take the test.

With her excitement rising, her fingers tightened on the steering wheel and she gazed over the sparkling purple fields on both sides of the dusty road. They’d planted lavender over the last five years, finding it an extremely profitable venture compared to the mustard, corn, and hay they’d grown before. The crop was ready to harvest and the sweet smell drifted into the open windows teasing her nostrils. She thought she saw a trail of dust in the east field and spotted a metallic glint. Slowing her truck, she braked and let the engine idle while she listened.

Birds chirped cheerfully, the wind whispered through the lavender plants, and she smiled as she heard the grumbling purr of the tractor. Yep, he was definitely in the east field. Good, now she could sneak into the house and take that pregnancy test. With renewed urgency, she pressed the gas pedal.

Soon, she spotted her white clapboard farmhouse huddled between a handful of huge pine trees, and a moment later she’d pulled the truck into their parking lot. She was just about to shut off the engine when the bright flash of orange light sliced through the otherwise light blue noon sky, almost blinding her. Intense heat rocked her, and the truck stalled.

She could only sit there on the bench seat and stare out the windshield, stunned, as she swore she saw the sky waver momentarily. What the hell had that bright light been? Lightning? Why had the sky wavered like that?

She shook her head, her heart racing like it had never done before. She thought about twisting the key in her ignition but had this really bad urge to just get out of the truck. But if the truck had been hit by lightning, how would she get out?

Frig it! What did one do to get out of a vehicle hit by lightning? One thing she did remember was to make sure she jumped out of the truck with both feet leaving at the same time. The rubber on her tires was preventing the electricity from parting, so she couldn’t be touching the truck and the ground at the same time, right? If she did, she would be the lightning rod.

Adrenaline snapped through her, and she grabbed the bag off the seat, popped open the driver’s side, and maneuvered herself so both her feet were firmly on the edge of the door opening. Wouldn’t this just be great if she died of electrocution? And what if she was finally pregnant?

Emotions, thick and raw welled inside her, and she held back a sob. Her eyes blurred, and she wanted to cry. Oh, crap. What rotten luck. Maybe she should just sit here and wait for Max? Oh, heck, he could be out there in the fields for hours. He always got lost in his work, especially during harvest time. Maybe she could call him on her cell phone?

Sighing in relief, she dug the cell out of her back pocket and hit the End button. Nothing happened.

“Oh, come on!” She hit the button several more times. Nothing. Did the cell phone have a dead battery? She’d just charged it a couple of days ago, for Pete’s sake!

Okay, so she was on her own. All she needed to do was jump and not touch the truck and ground at the same time. She could do that. Simple. Yeah. Right.

And what if she was wrong about how to leave the truck? No, she wasn’t. She had to be right.

She held her breath, stared at the ground. The ground was safety. Yeah, she was right. She had to be.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, perched to jump. She prayed Max would come to her rescue. Even shouted into the eerily silent air a few times. He didn’t come. Come to think of it, she didn’t hear his tractor motor anymore, either. Nor any birds singing. And what was with the wind? It was getting very cold.

Creepy weird.

Anxiety mounted. She felt sick to her stomach. Nausea. Distinctive and gut wrenching. Chills took hold of her and the frosty wind wrapping around her wasn’t helping. Oh, man, she was gonna be sick if she didn’t get out of this truck.

Teyla prayed. Hard. She prayed harder than she’d ever prayed. And then she jumped.

Nothing happened when she hit the ground.

Except she lost the contents of her breakfast. Bitter bile lurched out of her mouth, and her stomach ached like a bitch. Her skin felt cold and clammy. Perspiration blistered over her forehead and under her arms.

The flu? Morning sickness?

Oh, man, where was Max?

She shouted his name again into the deafening air. No answer. She made it into the house just in time to puke yet again into the kitchen sink.

If this was morning sickness, someone else could have it!

“It wasn’t morning sickness. I miscarried that day, and all I found left of my late husband was a pile of ashes drifting off his tractor seat.” She felt cold and numb inside of her, saying it out loud. Just as she’d felt that day.

“I’m sorry. That was tough to go through. I’m really sorry,” he whispered, and Teyla sighed as he caressed her hair. She liked the feeling of him brushing her strands. It was soothing. Erotic. Nice. She sighed again, and he squeezed his arms gently around her, and for the first time ever, she relaxed in a client’s arms.

“They say it had something to do with the solar flares targeting people that contained certain genes. They just evaporated. There wasn’t anything you could have done for your baby or your husband. It was just some freak scientific thing that no one saw coming. It was out of everybody’s control. Totally out of your control,” he whispered. The tone of his voice was soothing, and it just felt so normal to be lying here in his arms.

She’d lay here for just a moment, she thought to herself, then she’d get up and make him supper. But her eyelids grew so heavy. And she really liked listening to the steady way he breathed. He felt so warm and snug against her. She felt protected. Safe. She hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Too long to remember…

* * * *

Logan knew the instant she fell asleep. Her body softened and melted against him. Her breathing slowed, and her heart stopped hammering like crazy. Even now, after taking her, he wanted to fuck her again. There was vulnerability in her. A vulnerability he’d never seen before in the other professional women he’d slept with. An openness in her that brought out his protective side, and suddenly, he’d wanted to know where she’d been on that day that changed everyone’s life forever.

While she relayed her story, he’d realized she wasn’t bitter or hard. While they had sex, he’d also sensed she wasn’t putting on an act. She hadn’t faked her pleasure at his hands. He liked that. A lot.

Logan sighed and watched the strands of her hair move beneath his fingers as he caressed her. She had a really nice color of brown hair. In the twilight, he could see hints of gold and red twinkling there. And her hair felt so soft and silky as he stroked it.

She shouldn’t be living out here all alone. Didn’t she realize how dangerous the world had become? She needed a man to put down roots here. A man to protect her from guys like him. Guys that wanted to take advantage of a woman living alone. A guy who wanted to share her with his partners.

Logan smiled. Yeah, the other two would like this woman. He’d make sure Cassidy and Spencer dished out lots of pleasure. She wouldn’t be disappointed. Not at all.

Chapter Three

When Teyla awoke, she felt surprisingly refreshed. Her breasts felt ravenously used. Orally used, actually, and her pussy throbbed with a pleasant soreness. She’d fallen asleep wrapped in a stranger’s arms feeling all safe and satisfied. But while she slept, he’d slipped out of bed and extinguished all but one of her oil lamps and tossed some more wood into the fireplace. As she stared into the semi-darkness, she heard him moving around in the kitchen.

He was being quiet about it. The soft plop of a coffee pot being placed onto the wood stove. The slow opening and closing of the cutlery drawer. The creak of the cupboard door opening where she kept her mugs and plates. The man was hungry, Teyla thought as she smiled into the darkness.

Just then, her stomach grumbled. Her smile widened. Obviously she was hungry, too. Come to think of it, she felt famished.

Climbing off the bed, she slipped the negligee over her breasts and did up the buttons. Grabbing her robe off the bedpost, she wrapped the soft pink terrycloth cocoon around her before tiptoeing across the wood plank floor to hesitate in the slightly open doorway.

Maybe she should just stay in bed? He could join her. He could make love to her again.

Teyla linked. Make love? God, had she totally lost her marbles? She was a sex object to him. Nothing more. And she needed to make sure he had half the money up front, as agreed. Yeah, sure, it was a little late in checking, but hey, he’d been damned good in bed, nicely distracting from the norm. She should be paying him. She stifled a giggle at that thought.

“Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?” His deep voice echoed into the bedroom, making her tense and her cheeks flame with instant heat. Shit! He’d heard her.

“Um, sure. Just give me a minute.” To get my red, irritatingly blushing cheeks under control, she added silently.

“How do you take it?” he called again.

“Black.” Considering sugar and cream were in extremely short supply, she would leave what little she had for her guest. “Sugar is in the canister on the table and some cream is in the jar on the east windowsill.”

She didn’t hear him move, so she figured he took his coffee black as well. Placing her palms against her warm cheeks, she willed them to cool, ordered herself to calm down. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she finally managed to regain a semblance of control. Well, she may as well go out there and make the man some supper. Maybe he’d thank her with another scorching session of sex? Teyla rolled her eyes and chastised herself for thinking that way. He would take her because he wanted to, not because he was thankful for a good meal.

Making sure the sash on her robe was nice and tight, she self-consciously clutched the lapels around her throat and stepped out of the bedroom into the adjoining kitchen. The buttery glow from an oil lamp on a nearby shelf splashed over him. He sat at the table, facing her. He wore only his jeans, and as she entered the room, he smiled, making her tummy do some really nice flip-flops. When she spotted a couple of cute dimples pop out on each of his cheeks, she almost moaned out loud from the erotic jolt slamming through her.