To Win Her Trust (27 page)

His arms slid around her from behind, and he dropped his head to her shoulder. Six feet away, a bubbling spring meandered through the thicket. Wild blueberry bushes lined the opposite bank. A fat raccoon lumbered into the dense shrubbery as a Blue Jay chastised an unseen companion, setting up a racket from a high branch in the distance.

“It’s beautiful.” Her breathless voice seemed to stir the air and a gentle breeze wafted over them.

His stubbled cheek rubbed against hers in a nod.

Tears pooled on her lower lids, and she turned in his arms. Pressing up onto the toes of her sneakers, she lifted her face until she could brush her lips against his. His familiar scent blended with the tang of tree sap and natural mulch, and her eyes slid shut as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

Gently, as if he too were aware of the serene enchantment of this place and time, he drew her closer. She curled into his body, telling him wordlessly how much his belief in her meant.

The past and all its fears held no sway in this magical moment, and she opened her mouth to him as surely as she did her heart. His low murmur encouraged, and she slid her hands beneath the hem of his loose T-shirt to graph the muscled cords and strong lines of his back with sensitive fingertips. He shuddered beneath her exploration, and her lips formed a soft smile against his.

The power of this place, combined with her burgeoning heart, whispered of sweet, endless possibilities, there for the taking if only she had the courage to grasp at the chance. Hope, bold and irresistible, shimmered through her veins, and she answered the call. She pulled back enough to lock her gaze with his.

“Love me, Tuck.”

Whether he recognized the heartfelt plea in her request or not, she knew its depth and opened herself to those possibilities with joyous abandon. The world ceased to exist. There was only Tuck and this serene glade as he took her mouth as if parched for the taste of her. With mouths and hands, they worshipped at the altar of pleasure.

A bed of leaves cradled them as he lowered her to the ground. Shade from the grand oak dappled patterns on the backs of her eyelids. He peeled away her T-shirt and shorts with gentle hands. She followed suit, rolling up to strip the shirt over his head and spread her hands over his chest. Like the healthy animal he was, his hair-sprinkled skin heated her fingers as they slid to his waistband.

He lifted his hips to aid in the removal of his shorts and briefs, and she shifted onto one elbow to admire what she had uncovered. Powerful, muscled, sleekly beautiful, he lay sprawled before her with no hint of modesty. His blue eyes, searing in intensity, burned into hers. Their eyes locked, and he reached out to search through the pocket of his discarded shorts. A condom appeared in his hand.

“Always prepared, I see.” She rose to her knees. Laughter gleamed in his eyes and she held out a hand. “Let me.”

Her fingers shook as she rolled the latex down his thick erection, and before she lost her nerve, she threw one leg over his hips to straddle him. His sexy, dimpled smile urged her on, and she braced above him. A ragged sigh shimmered from her lungs as she lowered herself and drew him inside. Full, hot, delicious, she savored the sense of coming home.

His hands came to her hips, and he arched his. Yearning, deep and seductive, demanded she move, and their bodies swayed in a timeless flight. High above the treetops, where the air was sweet and clear, they flew on the winds of time. Swirling, falling, only to be tossed upward once again, they traveled to a place out of time. And when, at last, they floated back to earth, she slid to his chest, boneless, depleted, and secure in his arms.

Chapter 22

“I saw the clip from the game and heard Tuck’s interview yesterday. Can I help? I could make some calls.”

The simple cadence of her father’s voice on her answering machine threatened to suck CC back into the horror and confusion of those months following the kidnapping, and her bones ached with the violence of her shudder. Unbidden images and sounds flooded her mind. The frightening glare of camera lights. Her father’s voice echoing in numerous concert hall speakers as he played for those cameras. Incomprehensible questions about the kidnapping tossed at her like stones. The internal quivering of her body as she stared into the calculating and oddly excited eyes of strangers.

She shook her head, scattering the hateful memories, and jammed a shaking finger to the delete button as Curt ended his latest message with, “
Let me know
.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

For sixteen years, she’d done her best to push the memories to the back of her mind. His absence had allowed her a measure of success, but hearing his voice again brought it all back to the forefront. What did he want from her? Hadn’t she given him enough?

No doubt he’d be happy to make a few calls, inserting himself in yet another press bonanza, but as far as she was concerned, the situation was resolved. Just as Tuck had predicted, his interview, while entertaining, deflated interest in the story, and as was often the case with the voracious press, they’d moved on to the next salacious blockbuster. Maybe she should send a thank-you gift to the NBA star who’d been caught with his gym shorts around his ankles as he gave a female reporter her own personal inside scoop.

Come to think of it, she still had that bag of super-duper condoms Kris gave her.

Her cell phone buzzed, and Tuck’s face appeared on the screen. Her heart did a shimmy shake, and she blew out a cleansing sigh as she answered the call.

His deep voice caressed her ear. “I’m a block away. You ready?”

“We’re walking out the door now. Are you sure Walter won’t be a problem? I could leave him with Kris.”

“Na. The Tucker madhouse is pet friendly.”

His family home. Butterflies erupted in her belly. Okay, so they wouldn’t technically be staying at his parents’ house, but she’d be meeting them. Buds popped on the kernel of hope planted by Gracie’s insistence of Tuck’s feelings, which had then gone on to sprout shoots after their walk in the woods.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She thumbed the screen and opened the door just as Tuck, in his red Jeep, pulled to the curb. Four hours later, he exited the Massachusetts Turnpike into South Boston. Like an amateur tour guide, he pointed out the places of his youth. They drove by the stadium where he played high school ball and the pizza shop where he scored his first kiss with Amy Jo Borucki as they scrolled through the selection on the jukebox.

“I grew up right down there.” He jerked his chin toward the street on their left. “It was a good neighborhood back then, even if it was a little rough around the edges. It’s grown pretty seedy over time. For years, my sibs and I pestered Mom and Dad to move somewhere a little less dangerous. They finally conceded five years ago but didn’t go far.”

He bumped the vehicle along the cobblestone streets of City Point, a bustling South Boston community at the tip of the harbor. Centuries-old brownstones sat tucked between newer structures of glass and steel, and somehow, the clash of eras worked with charming results.

They pulled to a stop in front of a large brick home. Three stories high, and almost as wide, it overlooked the dark water of the Atlantic. Walter whined for release from the backseat, and as she climbed from the Jeep, the butterflies came fluttering back. As if Tuck understood her sudden case of nerves, he smiled and took her hand.

“Come on. You’re going to love them.”

He pulled her up the steps and through the unlocked front door, and she nearly tripped over her excited dog. She took hold of his collar. A cacophony of voices rang from somewhere at the back of the house, and Tuck dragged them straight to the sound. At the end of a narrow hallway, they stepped into a large kitchen full of happy chaos.

Three of the eight chairs surrounding the long table were occupied. Open sports pages lay in front of a mountain of a man with a shock of gray hair. From the sound of it, he and the man across from him, who looked similar enough to be his twin, were in the midst of a friendly argument over a blown call at last night’s Red Sox game. Tuck’s cousin, Jessi, laughed at something a tiny blonde woman said and pulled several wine glasses from the cupboard.

“Get out of that, Tim.” A middle-aged woman with a slim build and graying blond hair slapped a hand at a slightly younger version of Tuck. Grinning, Tim dipped his finger into the large stockpot on the industrial-sized stove, then plopped the sauce covered digit into his mouth.

Tuck released her hand and stalked forward. “Hey, punk, save some of that for me.”

All heads turned, and the obvious pleasure on his family’s faces plucked a chord of envy in CC’s heart. Multiple greetings were called out at once, ratcheting the decibel level up to the dangerous zone. Tuck dropped a kiss on his cousin’s head, then swung the young blonde in his arms for a sloppy kiss.

CC watched from the doorway in silence, her fingers clenched around Walter’s collar, as Tuck wrapped his arms around the older woman in a heartfelt hug. “Hi, Mom.”

Tim turned his head, and a shiver raced down CC’s spine at the eerily familiar arch of his brow. A surprised smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “If it ain’t the Yankee fan. Hellooo beautiful.”

Suddenly, the only sound was the ticking of the wall clock. Pressure expanded in her chest and the heat of a blush scored her cheeks as all eyes pinned her in place. Tuck released his mother, wacked a hand across the back of his brother’s head, and crossed back to her. He grabbed her hand, but when he dipped his head toward hers, she reared back in dismay.

Kissing her in front of a bunch of strangers was one thing, but these people were his family. His gaze narrowed on her in silent question as she focused on regulating her breathing. She shook her head slightly and dragged in a calming breath.

“Losing your touch, big brother?”

Tim’s laughing comment flared her blush to a blaze of embarrassment. Not for herself, but for Tuck. Her horrified gaze flew to his, but instead of wounded pride over her apparent slight, silent laughter gleamed in his eyes.

“Welcome to the madhouse, sunshine.” He winked and turned to face his curious family. “Everyone. This is CC.” His gaze dropped to her dog. “And Walter.”

* * * *

Several hours later, Tuck balanced on the back legs of his chair and watched the action fifty yards away through the kitchen’s screen door. His uncle Ryan, Jessi’s father, along with Tim and their sister, Patty, were on a packy run for more beer and with dinner still a half hour off, Jessi had commandeered CC for a walk on the beach. Tuck had been banned from accompanying them by his cousin, a squirt barely out of braces, who had proclaimed primly that women occasionally needed some men-free conversation. After a hesitant glance his way, CC had agreed.

What was it with women and girl time?

Down on the beach, Walter performed a perfect dodge and weave pattern. Jessi’s laughter could be heard as CC ran in circles, flapping her arms in an attempt to protect her dog from the angry seagull diving repeatedly for his head. Tuck grinned. From where he sat, the dog was the only sane one in the bunch.

Gentle fingers threaded through his hair, and he turned to smile at his mother. She brushed the locks back from his forehead and dropped a kiss there, the way she had when he was a boy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and she rested her cheek against the top of his head.

“She’s very sweet, Kevin.”

“And not bad to look at,” his father added from the other side of the table.

“I noticed.” Tuck shot him a toothy leer.

His mother straightened and moved to stir the pot of sauce on the stove.

He scraped a palm across his jaw. “She was nervous about coming here.”

“That’s understandable. When a man brings a woman to meet his family, a woman tends to get ideas.” His mother turned to drill him with squinted eyes and pursed lips. It was a look she’d perfected long ago. The one that said,
I see right through you so you may as well fess up
. Obviously, the woman she was talking about getting ideas was herself.

The legs of his chair thumped to the floor, and because he wasn’t sure how to answer the unspoken demand, he played dumb and hedged. “It’s more than that. I’m not at liberty to say much, but life’s been tough on her. She doesn’t do well around strangers.”

His father grunted. “Then kissing her in front of fifty thousand
Yankee
fans was probably a mistake.”

Tuck grinned. As far as he was concerned, kissing CC was never a mistake. A lifelong Sox fan, of course his father would be more concerned about his oldest son showing his face in enemy territory. “I’ll be sure to make a scene for the cameras next time I’m at Fenway.”

“See that you do.” Satisfied the hometown field would get its share of the limelight, his father smiled. “Your mother’s right. CC’s a peach. This bunch would intimidate even the most outgoing of women, but she’s holding her own.”

Tuck sipped his beer as his gaze slid back to the screen door. Yes, she was. While more quiet than usual, she’d eventually settled down enough to join in the madness with his boisterous family—once that initial flash of panic faded. A small smile tugged at his lips at the memory of the surprise in her eyes after she stiff-armed his attempted kiss.

Her obvious dismay that she’d embarrassed him in front of his family was misplaced. Tucker men were used to strong women who stood on their own two feet and weren’t afraid to show it. CC fit the mold perfectly. As prickly as she could be at times, she had a soft and giving heart. There wasn’t a cruel bone in her body, and though she’d avoided men most of her life, she understood the male ego more than she admitted.

It had been all he could do to keep from grabbing her up in his arms and ravaging her sweet mouth until she purred in response. Angry? Shit, there was no room for anger in a heart bursting with pride.

Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have been able to walk through the front door, much less hold him off in front of his family. Not without the breath backing up in her throat, anyway.