The Best Bride (11 page)

Elizabeth clicked the dryer back on and held it in one hand while fanning out her hair with the other. What must Rebecca think about her living arrangement? What must the whole town think? She was a virtual stranger, living with a single man, in his house. Was there talk? She shook her head and continued drying. Of course there was talk. She was living with Travis Haynes. One of
the
Haynes. A man with a reputation for women and trouble.

Elizabeth chuckled. That made Travis sound like a guy in a black leather jacket from some sixties B-movie. He certainly wasn't a troublemaker, although she wouldn't mind seeing him in a black leather jacket.

She put down the dryer and picked up a brush. The small bathroom was still steamy from her shower so her damp hair curled up toward her shoulders. She smoothed it with the brush, then slipped on a rose-and-green fabric-covered headband.

Despite his rather wicked reputation, she had to admit he wasn't at all what she'd thought he would be. Sam had left her alone so much, she'd practically raised Mandy on her own. She was used to making all the decisions and handling the responsibilities. She hated to admit it, but it felt kind of nice to have someone else making some of the choices. She even liked living with Travis. He was fun and easygoing. He made her laugh. Better than that, he helped her forget her past.

Her rose sundress had a sweetheart neckline and elastic ribbing in the back to hold it up. The skinny straps were more show than to secure the bodice. She pulled the dress down over her strapless bra and closed the side zipper. After slipping on a pair of high-heeled sandals, she stepped out into the hall.

She could hear a cartoon video playing in the family room. Mandy was excited at the thought of company at
dinner, but even more thrilled that she was being allowed to watch her favorite show twice tonight. Elizabeth smiled. Life was certainly simple for a six-year-old.

She turned toward the kitchen to check on the dinner that Louise had made and left warming. A sound on the stairs caught her attention. She looked up and saw Travis.

He'd showered, as well. His hair was still damp, his face freshly shaved. She liked the clean look of his cheeks and jaw, but missed the darkening shadow of his afternoon stubble. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt rolled up to the elbows, and gray trousers. It wasn't all that different from jeans or his sheriff's uniform, but that didn't stop her heart from beating a little faster or her breath from catching in her throat.

She waited until he reached the first floor, then she looked him up and down. “Very nice,” she said, struggling to keep her voice sounding normal. “Are you sure Mandy and I won't be in the way?”

“I told you, Rebecca is just a good friend.”

“But it's Friday night. Shouldn't you be out on a date? You don't have to stay in to keep us company.”

His dark eyes drifted over her face before dipping down to the bodice of her dress. She hadn't thought it was all that low-cut before, but she had the sudden urge to check to see exactly how much cleavage showed. His gaze left her feeling shivery and her knees threatening to buckle. Maybe the dress was a mistake.

“I didn't cancel a date to stay in with you, Elizabeth, so quit worrying about it. I want to spend time with you and Mandy, and I haven't had Rebecca over for a while.”

He headed toward the front parlor. She followed, feeling that he was just being polite.

“But I don't want you to think that—”

He turned so quickly, she almost ran into him. As it was
she stopped a scant inch from his tall, broad body and had to crane her neck back to see his face.

“I don't think anything,” he said. His eyes darkened to the color of black velvet before brightening with a fire she didn't dare identify. “Except that you look very beautiful.”

She blushed. Elizabeth wanted to put her hand on her cheek to make sure, but she knew the sensation of heat on her face could only mean one thing. “I— You—” She swallowed. “Thanks, but you don't have to say that. I mean, I'm just a paying guest here.”

“Hardly that.” He moved away to a stereo set on the floor in the corner. Wires disappeared into the walls. Louise had mentioned that he'd put speakers in the whole house. While he flipped through his CD's, she walked around the large empty room.

“This is going to be a beautiful place when it's finished,” she said.

“I hope so. It's taking longer than I'd thought.” He slipped a couple of CD's into the machine, then rotated the table to insert three more. “So what about you, Elizabeth? Why don't you have some guy from L.A. pounding down my door?”

“Me?” She laughed. “I haven't had a date in years.” Seven years to be exact, she remembered. Her last date had been with Sam. That's when she'd told him she was pregnant with Mandy and had foolishly assumed they would do the right thing and get married. It was hard to believe her life had ever been that simple.

She touched the bare walls of the cavernous room, then looked up at the high ceiling. The basic structure of the house was lovely. Nothing like the cramped place she and Sam had rented. She'd wanted to buy a house, but he hadn't. She remembered the fights they'd had about that, and about having another child—she'd wanted four. That
had changed, as well. She'd realized that with Sam gone so much, more children would be difficult. She'd practically lived as a single mother. She'd had such high hopes for the relationship, but the truth was it had been in trouble for the past two years. She'd been on the verge of leaving Sam when the police had arrived to take him away. What irony, she thought, stopping by the window and staring out into the night. She'd been wrestling with her commitment to Mandy's father, wondering if leaving was the right thing, or just the easiest solution to her unhappiness. She hadn't known that in a matter of days the question would be decided for her.

The soft sounds of classical music filled the room. Elizabeth turned and looked but she couldn't see the speakers. Travis stood up and brushed off his hands.

“Pretty impressive, huh?”

She nodded. “A regular seduction factory.”

He grimaced. “Hardly. You might want to keep in mind that Louise does have a tendency to exaggerate things.”

“Oh? You haven't seduced every female in a fifty-mile radius?”

He moved closer. “Nah. Now if she'd said a thirty-mile radius, that would be different.”

“Oh, Travis, we are a pair, aren't we? You can't decide how many women you want, and I never want to get involved again.”

“Is that why you haven't had a date in years?”

He asked the question so casually, she almost answered it. Almost. She nearly blurted out, “No, it's because I was married.” But she caught herself in time.

“I was involved with Mandy's father. Call me a prude, but I've always believed in one relationship at a time.”

“Me, too.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

He put his hands on his hips. “Okay, what has she been telling you?”

“Nothing.”

He raised his dark eyebrows. “She had to have said something for you to assume that I've never been committed to one woman at a time.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I believe in monogamy.”

“For everybody, or do you exclude yourself?”

“Elizabeth!”

She shrugged. “I'm just asking. You have to admit you have this reputation in town. I heard it from the nurse, Louise—even Mandy mentioned something about it. You've dated her teacher, my boss. What am I supposed to think? That you're in training to be a monk?”

He grinned. The curve of his mouth and the flash of white teeth had her smiling in response. Realistically, she should be angry at him in the name of femalehood or something. But the truth was she liked Travis. Despite his obvious flaws, he was a good and kind man. At least he kept his socks picked up.

“I am involved with one woman at a time, Elizabeth Abbott.” His voice got lower and more seductive. She felt herself falling under his spell and she couldn't summon the energy to care. “That woman gets my complete attention, the total sum of my energy and focus for as long as the relationship lasts.”

His gaze never left hers. His hands stayed on his hips. So why did she feel as if he were physically touching her all over? Her skin grew heated, her fingers curled into her palms. How could he do that with just a look and his voice?

“Oh.”

With that he left the parlor and stepped into the hall.
Before she realized she'd been abandoned, he was back with a bouquet of flowers.

“These are for you, darlin',” he said.

That woman gets my complete attention.
She stared from the flowers to him and back. No. He couldn't mean anything by them, could he?

“Why?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer. What if he wanted her? What if he didn't?

“It's been a week since your surgery. I thought you might be feeling a little lost.” He thrust the flowers at her and she was forced to take them. “You can lose that panicked expression. I'm not out to seduce you.”

“You're not?” She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

He shook his head. “Not while you're under my protection.”

Which might mean she would have to watch herself when she wasn't under his protection, or it might be a polite way of saying he wasn't interested in her at all. Stop thinking about it, she ordered herself.
She
was the one not interested, remember? She was the one sworn to never get involved.

She lowered her head and sniffed the bouquet of flowers. The colorful blooms smelled rich and sinful, not like those long-stemmed roses Sam had often brought her after he'd been gone for several weeks. She'd never had the heart to tell him she didn't like those roses. They were so straight and scentless, almost mutated versions of natural flowers.

She touched the cheerful pink petal of a carnation. “Thank you.” She turned toward him and smiled. “They're beautiful.” He was close enough to touch. She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. “This is probably going to make you cringe, but I think you're very nice.”

The second to the last thing she expected was him to say, “I'm glad.” The last thing she expected him to do was step closer and wrap his arms around her waist. She almost dropped the flowers before gripping them in her right hand. Emotionally she was too stunned to pull back; physically, she was too intrigued. Sam had been tall—maybe an inch or so taller than Travis—but Travis was powerful and strong. She could feel the muscles in his arms where they pressed against her side. She could see the strength in his shoulders.

And his eyes. She would like to stare into his brown eyes forever, warmed by the fire flickering there. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He wasn't smiling. She was glad. She would have hated him to find this moment funny. She didn't think it was at all amusing. If anything, she was fighting the burning at the back of her eyes. She didn't know why she wanted to cry. Maybe it was because in his arms she felt safe and secure. She hadn't felt that way since she was a young girl, not much older than Mandy.

He pulled her close, until her thigh brushed against his and her breasts flattened against his chest. She reached up and placed her free hand on his shoulder. He was going to kiss her. For the first time since he touched her, she remembered she was supposed to be fighting this. Travis wasn't for her. But she needed him to kiss her. She needed to forget, even for just a moment. She sensed that once his lips touched hers, she wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

He didn't disappoint her. He breathed her name, then lowered his mouth to hers. Soft and hard and prickly and hot. She absorbed the sensations of his lips brushing back and forth on hers, the fire that flared between them. Her eyes drifted shut. Questions of right and wrong, her place in his house, Sam, her future and Mandy all faded, silenced
by the powerful force of pleasure. He didn't assault her or press for more. He simply held her close and moved his mouth slowly, so slowly until she knew every millimeter of his lips.

She wrapped both her arms around his neck, carefully holding on to the flowers. But that was her only conscious thought. Everything else she simply felt. The hard chest flattening her breasts, the stroking of his hands up and down on her back, the shivers as his fingers grazed the bare skin by her shoulder. Her position pulled her incision, but not enough to matter.

He moved his head slightly so he could brush his lips against her jaw, then her ear. She arched her head back, liking the gentle caresses, the absence of pressure. Her blood flowed faster, hotter, fueled by the slow assault. His warm breath tickled, sending goose bumps rippling down to her toes.

He nibbled on her earlobe. She caught her breath, then whispered his name. With her free hand, she touched his still-damp hair, liking the way the smooth strands felt against her fingers.

He read her perfectly. When she grew impatient with his gentle teasing on her jaw and throat, he returned to her mouth. He didn't ask or hint, he simply opened his mouth on hers. As if she had no will, her lips parted to admit him.

Like his previous caresses, he moved slowly, tenderly, tracing her lips, touching the damp, sensitive inside, touching the edge of her teeth before stroking her tongue with his.

One small flicker was like the first faint flash of lightning. He moved against her again, touching, retreating, touching, circling, touching, tasting. The storm moved closer and closer. She felt the vibration of the thunder, the
echoing of his heartbeat, matching the rapid cadence of her own. She saw the flash of light behind her closed eyelids.

Her body sought his, pressing harder to absorb his strength. Against her belly, she felt the hardness of his desire. Between her thighs an answering need flowered, leaving her warm and waiting. Her breasts tightened in anticipation. His hands moved lower, down her back, over the curve of her hip to cup her derriere in his large hands. He didn't pull her up against him; instead he squeezed gently, lovingly.