To Wear His Ring (40 page)

Chase groaned, and Nettie felt a surge of delight in her own power. Her control, though, however sweet, was short-lived. Chase wanted it back, and when he took it his groan turned into a growl.

He shook his head like a lion, loosing her grip. Getting off the couch, he reached for her, lifting her in one fluid motion. Nettie circled his neck with her arms, eyes on his face as he carried her into the downstairs guestroom and laid her on the bed.

He’d waited too long for this, waited all his adult life to feel this hunger, to feel a need that was more than just sexual but a damn sight stronger than “sweet.”

Bracing himself with one hand beside her head, he smoothed a palm up over her stomach to her breasts. The thin material of her dress moved with his touch. Her eyes glowed as she watched him.

When he reached her breastbone, Chase paused then slid his hand to the right, cupping one full gorgeous globe. She shuddered. Her eyes half closed, she released a sound that started as a sigh and ended in a moan that seemed to rise up from her toes. A desire to possess, to brand and to keep roared through his veins. He searched Nettie’s face, gauging her willingness, assessing her hunger, needing to know it if matched his own.

Methodically, wanting her to feel the anticipation as he did, Chase unlooped the small buttons down the front of her dress, pushing the material away until he revealed her bra. Purple. He smiled, but quickly forgot about the hue as he realized the iridescent material was sheer enough to afford him his first access to a bosom he’d only been able to admire until now.

Brushing his thumb across her nipple, he felt it spring eagerly to life. His groin tightened. Urged by her sharp intake of breath and his own need, he bent lower to put his mouth where his hand had just roamed. Biting gently, using his tongue, too, he
captured her nipple with his teeth and s-l-o-w-l-y, exquisitely tugged.

Nettie’s hands dove into his hair. She arched, writhing beneath him, lifting a leg in a mindless motion that made their thighs brush. The soft bare skin on the inside of her thigh brushed his rough jeans, and she moaned. Chase reached down to hold her leg where it was, halting all motion, because in another second he was going to reach between their bodies to touch her far more personally and that, he felt sure, would be the beginning of the rest of the night.

Rising up, barely able to resist the cry of complaint in the back of her throat, he divested himself of his shirt with quick jagged motions, never taking his eyes from her. If she wanted to stop, this would be the time. The last time. He tossed his shirt to the floor and looked at her in question.

Lips parted, eyes open, Nettie sat up beneath him. She scooted back a bit, giving herself more room to move and Chase felt a flare of crushing disappointment until he saw her hands go to the front of her dress. She unfastened the remaining buttons, watching him all the while, and slipped the dress slowly off her shoulders. Reaching around, she unhooked her bra, and Chase wondered if she could see his heart as it threatened to pound through the wall of his chest.

“Are you—”
Sure
, he started to ask, but she took his face between her hands and answered before he completed the question.

“Does it look like I’m sure?”

W
ith her palms cupping his face, Nettie leaned back, drawing Chase down with her. She tried to lie still while he kissed her again, to mark and remember every sensation of his hands skimming her torso, eliciting a quiver she knew he could feel.

When his knuckles grazed her belly and his fingers slipped beneath the band of the scanty purple thong, a shudder wracked her. His touch was gentle yet bold and absolutely unabashed. With each stroke, he possessed her, shaking her free of the control she had struggled to maintain for so long. Nettie felt herself open, body and heart, for the first time in forever.

Chase pulled away from her mouth, moving lower to kiss her neck, her breasts, while his fingers explored deeper. He had reached the limit of his own restraint. She could tell by the increased intensity of his touch, by the way his muscles bunched and strained beneath her hands as she moved them along his back.

Moving purposefully, he rolled her flimsy undergarment away then lifted off her to shed his own clothing. When he sank down again, he joined their bodies, and the act was as welcome and gratifying as a summer rain. Tears built behind Nettie’s eyes as
pressure mounted inside her body. She gripped the arms that bracketed her, clutched Chase’s back. Her breath came in pants then gasps that matched and mingled with his. She was standing on the edge of a cliff with a voice urging, “jump.”

Her entire body surged upward as Chase’s bore down. He growled her name—twice—as he arched over her, burying his face in her neck. The words were almost unintelligible, primal. He stoked the tension in her body, propelling her on until Nettie cried out with the pleasure of release and the incomparable satisfaction of feeling Chase above her, relinquishing his control, too, as he followed her over the edge.

For Nettie, the lingering moments after making love with Chase felt new and exhilarating and awkward and uncertain. She wished she could read his mind. And was grateful that she couldn’t.

Reaching for the sheet they’d eventually crawled under, Nettie tucked it around her body and started to rise. Though Chase said Colin was a sound sleeper, she wasn’t altogether reassured.

“I’d better go,” she said.

Chase looked at her with calm eyes. Grabbing her wrist he pulled her back on to the bed and propped himself on one elbow. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I—”

“No.” Prying her hands from the sheet, he twined his fingers with hers and rested their clasped hands above her head. “I want you to have breakfast with me—with us—tomorrow morning. I want to watch the sun rise over those barley fields with you.” There was something almost endearingly serious in his expression. “If you have regrets about tonight, tell me.”

Extracting one of her hands from the love knot Chase had created, Nettie smoothed her thumb over the vertical line between his brows. “No regrets,” she said, and her voice was strong.

No regrets. She’d made love to only one other man in her life, her husband, and that was after they’d married. She believed unequivocally that she never would marry again, but Lilah had been right when she’d insisted sex could never be casual for Nettie. This night with Chase, even if it never happened again,
would be imprinted on her mind and heart the way the feel of his hands would be imprinted on her skin.

“I’ll stay.” She traced a tiny scar at the corner of his right eye. She hadn’t noticed it before. There would be so many things to discover in a relationship that promised tomorrow…and tomorrow…A pang of sadness tried to encroach on the quiet, sweet moment. Nettie pushed it away. “So what are you making for breakfast?”

Chase grinned. “Toaster pastries.”

He gave her a long, lazy kiss. The fact that she was staying filled him with satisfaction. No, more than that—pleasure. The middle of the night was fast approaching, and she would be here. The sun would edge up from the eastern horizon. She’d be here. His son would come downstairs for breakfast, and the three of them would sit at the table together.

It was right. Chase’s kiss increased in intensity. If he could transfer his conviction to her via a kiss, he would do it. If by making love to her from now till morning he could convince her they deserved a chance at forever, he wouldn’t have let her get dressed in the first place.

Forever. Chase could hardly believe he was thinking about a future with one woman, the same woman, day after day, night after night. Lifting his head, he looked at Nettie while she stood with her eyes happily closed, smiling a little, swaying toward him. A big goofy grin claimed his face. Oh, yeah, he was thinking about it. A few days ago, she’d shut the door on any possibility of a relationship between them. Now it was a whole new ballgame. He had no idea how it would all play out, but that wasn’t the point. The point was they deserved this chance.

“Colin won’t be up until seven tomorrow. Really,” he said when she regarded him doubtfully. “You can set your watch by him. We can sneak out of bed, watch the sun come up and have breakfast on the table before his eyes are all the way open.”

“Okay,” Nettie agreed, “but try not to make too much noise. I’d hate to have to explain what I’m doing here.”

“I don’t think I’m the one we have to worry about when it comes to decibels. You are—how should I put it?—surprisingly vocal.”

“I—” Nettie frowned, then her eyes grew wide. “What do you mean? You mean during…? I am not!”

Chase laughed. “I’m not complaining.” He growled in her ear. “I love it.”

Goose bumps raced along her neck and arms. She wriggled in his embrace. “Just the same, I’m not…noisy.”

He gave her an Eskimo kiss, the first he could recall ever bestowing. “Noisiest woman I’ve ever met.”

Cheeks flushed beet red, she tried to scowl at him. “Am not.”

Chase loved the way she did that—managed to look both virginally innocent and gorgeously wanton at the same time.

“Are too.”

“Not.”

Bending low, he grinned. “Let’s find out.”

The next morning Chase felt something so unfamiliar that at first he wasn’t one hundred percent certain what it was.

Standing at the stove, wrapped in a ridiculous striped apron Nettie had tied around his waist, he listened to his son chatter about the books she had given him and about a movie called
Shrek
that he’d seen four times. Chase pushed bacon around an iron skillet with the spatula Nettie had placed in his hand and realized that what he felt was happiness. Pure and simple. He felt plainly, cleanly, deliriously happy.

“I hear a lot of talk over there, but I don’t hear any offers of, ‘hey, I’ll set the table,’ or ‘let me pour the juice.’” He glanced over his shoulder to see Nettie confer with Colin.

“That must be a hint,” she said dryly as she scraped back her chair.

“I can set the table. I know how.” Colin scrambled down from his seat to gather an excessive number of utensils from the cutlery drawer.

Nettie pulled a carton of juice from the fridge and brought glasses and plates down from a shelf.

Chase grinned to himself. He couldn’t care less if anyone helped this morning or if he stumbled through breakfast preparations himself, start to finish. He just wanted to be in on the conversation. Man, what a lovesick bufflehead he had turned out to be!

“What are you grinning about?” Nettie sidled up, peering into the skillet.

“Me? Nothin’.” Chase bumped her shoulder discreetly with his. “You get along pretty well with my kid.” He lowered his voice, working hard not to turn around and plant a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Great kid,” she said simply, snapping off a bit of bacon from the pile she had shown him how to drain on paper towels. Chase shook his head. Apparently bacon had to “drain.” Who knew?

“This is going to be a mighty fine breakfast,” he boasted, feeling, he decided, mighty proud of himself, too. The bacon looked good. The juice and waffles were no problem. This was the first meal he hadn’t ruined.

Nettie pressed the lever on the toaster and followed Colin around the table, setting down plates. “Toaster waffles, toaster pastries,” she said. “I detect a culinary theme.”

Chase agreed without apology. “You got that right. And if some enterprising manufacturer comes up with the perfect toaster cheeseburger, I’ll be stocking up on those, too.”

Nettie laughed. “Remind me to give you a few easy cooking lessons sometime in the near future. Nick’s freezer isn’t that large.”

Chase wanted to cheer at the prospect. More time together fit in perfectly with his plans.

Colin liked the idea, too, but on a different basis. “Can you teach him to make spaghetti,” he asked with a child’s guileless clarity, “the right way?”

Nettie’s eyes sparkled at Chase. “Yeah, I think he could handle that.”

“How about garlic bread?” Chase added. “The perfect Caesar dressing and…” He pondered. “Zabaglione for dessert?” The more time he spent with her, the better.

Nettie’s eyes widened as she listened to his menu. “You want to learn to make zabaglione? You? The toaster pastry king?”

“Yeah, Miss Smarty.” He looked at Colin. “I think a wellrounded menu is important.”

“What’s zab…ra…” Colin searched for the word.

“Zabaglione,” Nettie supplied. “It’s sort of an Italian pudding. You won’t like it.”

“I like pudding!” Colin insisted. He added extra forks to each
place setting until he’d used all the utensils. “Can we have zab…zabra…that pudding stuff tonight?”

“It’s not the kind of pudding you’re used to.” Nettie poured three glasses of juice, plus a glass of milk for Colin.

“We have to eat something, though,” Chase reasoned, removing the last pieces of bacon from the skillet and bringing the plate to the table. He slid an arm around Nettie’s waist as he moved behind her. Lingering there, he drew her gently against him, pleased when she relaxed. Reveling in the clean fresh scent of her and the softness of her hair, he nuzzled the pillow of curls, trying not to be too obvious about it. “I like this home-cooking stuff. How about teaching me to make an Italian dinner tonight? Plus chocolate pudding for Colin?”

While Colin waxed on about his love of chocolate pudding, Chase whispered into Nettie’s ear, “I know it’s a lot of work—probably the last thing you’d like to do with your afternoon—but I promise to make it worth your while. And tomorrow I’ll find a baby-sitter so you and I can go into Minot for dinner. Maybe some dancing?”

Warm and soft, Chase’s breath made Nettie tingle. His suggestion made her shiver. He was planning their tomorrow as if they were an average couple. She looked at Colin, at the table they had set, at the food. It all looked so normal; it all felt so right.

When she failed to respond verbally, Chase leaned around to look in her face. “Are you free tomorrow?” he asked, sounding less certain now.

Nettie smiled. She liked that, too.

“No, I’m not free,” she murmured, exercising a feminine coyness she’d never really tested before. Turning in Chase’s arms, she leaned forward till their noses were almost touching and added, “If I’m spending half the evening in the kitchen teaching you how to cook, it’s going to cost you.”

They were only halfway through breakfast when the phone rang.

Colin had insisted that he could not eat a waffle unless every “ditch” was filled with syrup, and his father seemed mystified
by the universal stickiness that ensued. No part of breakfast, the table itself or Colin, it seemed, was currently maple syrup free.

The phone rang a second time.

“Telephone!” Colin announced loudly, clearly convinced he was the only one in the room who possessed ears. “Someone’s gotta get it.”

“Yeah, you stay where you are and eat.” Chase pointed to his son’s plate. “And don’t touch anything except the food on your plate and your own fork until I get back.”

Nettie grinned. Chase was definitely getting a crash course in parenthood. Breakfast lesson number one: The time it takes a child to make a mess of his meal is only a fraction of the time it will take him to eat it.

Sipping her juice, Nettie kept an eye on Colin while Chase picked up the kitchen extension. Colin asked her if there were lizards in North Dakota, then proceeded to tell her he knew how to make a good “lizard house” and asked if she had any shoeboxes he could “borrow.”

Dividing her attention between answering the seven-year-old’s questions and urging him to eat some of his waffle before his father got off the phone, Nettie was vaguely aware that Chase had taken advantage of the long phone cord to pull the receiver through the kitchen door and into the hallway as he spoke.

When he returned to the table some time later, Nettie saw that his mood had changed considerably. She kept up the dialogue with Colin, but Chase seemed unwilling or unable to reenter the conversation. After several long minutes, Nettie rose, ushered Colin into the bathroom to get him started on the process of cleaning up and then rejoined Chase.

“What’s wrong?” she asked without preamble, approaching him in concern. Having shuttled Colin’s plate to the sink, Chase now leaned heavily on the counter, looking very much as though he was in pain.

He glanced around.

“In the bathroom, cleaning up,” Nettie said, responding in unconscious shorthand to the question in Chase’s eyes. “There was syrup on his clothes, so I told him to change. It should take awhile.” Without giving it any thought, she placed a comforting hand on his back. “What’s going on?”

Chase shook his head, keeping his palms braced on the sink
as if he required the support to remain upright. “That was my lawyer on the phone.” His voice was low and unsteady. “When I went to Florida to get Colin, there were no other known relatives. Now—” He stopped, turning to scan the kitchen, needing to make sure once again that Colin was not within earshot. “Julia’s parents have been located.”

“Julia was Colin’s mother?”

Chase nodded. “Her parents live in England. Julia was estranged from them. Her choice, apparently, not theirs. They say she wrote them a letter a couple months before she was killed, indicating that she wanted to reconcile and…” Chase shook his head, obviously shell-shocked by the pieces of information he’d been given. “They want Colin. They want custody.”