“What would make your life level out? If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?” Michael asked.
She tensed at the question. “I want to find Wilhemina, then I want to help her find a husband.”
“So you can get the bonus,” he concluded. “Money.”
She didn't want to care that her answer may have sounded shallow to him. “Money can't buy love, but it sure can solve some problems.” Relief swept through her as Michael pulled into the parking lot of the single-level motel where they would stay.
“You wait here and I'll get the rooms,” he said when he stopped the car.
Katie nodded and watched him walk toward the small lobby. He walked with purpose, she thought. No swagger, just a determined masculine stride. Something about him gave the impression that he could walk like that forever. Nothing would stop him. He counted on himself and other people could rely on him too. For a woman who'd never been able to count on anyone, the notion was too seductive for words. Strange feelings coursed through her, leaving her hot and cold, making her heart race.
Hormones,
she thought and snorted. Hormones had gotten her mother into trouble.
The kind of trouble that produced four beautiful children,
Katie heard her mother say from the hereafter.
Which wasn't all bad, Katie thought. Frowning at her conflicting thoughts, she rubbed her forehead wishing she could rub away her confusion the same way.
The car door whipped open, interrupting her internal debate. Michael tossed her a key. “We're right around the corner.” He started the car and moved it to a parking space in front of two rooms. He rounded the car to open the door for her, but she stepped out first. It was crazy, but she didn't want to give him too many opportunities to be chivalrous or kind. He might make it easy for her to forget her wait-till-thirty rule.
“I'll get your bag,” he said when she followed him to the trunk.
“That's okay. I can—”
“I've got it,” he said, lifting his bag and hers along with his laptop.
Her nerve endings jumping, she walked briskly to her door and put the key in the loose doorknob and opened it.
Michael dropped the luggage beside him. “Wait a minute,” he said, pulling the door shut and removing the key. He jiggled the doorknob and the door opened without the key. “Damn,” he muttered. “Let me try mine.”
He stepped next door and found his doorknob more secure. “You're staying in here.”
Katie's heart slammed into her rib cage. She couldn't spend another night in bed with him. She wouldn't sleep. She would…want. Even if he didn't make a move, she would want. She shook her head. “I can't sleep with—”
“You stay in my room. I'll stay in yours,” Michael said.
Katie bunked, staring at him for a full moment.
“Okay?”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “But what about you? The door.”
“No big deal. I'll just put a chair under the doorknob.” He carried her bag into his room, flicked on the lights, checked the closet, the bathroom, and all the windows.
Checking for her safety. Her stomach took another dip. How long had it been since anyone gave a rip about her safety?
He returned to the front of the room to stand in front of her. “It's not the Ritz, but it should be okay.”
She nodded, crossing her arms over her heart hammering against her chest. “Thanks.”
His gaze wrapped around her, and lifting his thumb and forefinger to a strand of hair, he gently tugged.
It would have been easy to pull back. She wouldn't have felt a bit of pain. Her hair would have slipped through his fingers.
But Katie wasn't inclined to pull back. Everything inside her seemed to be pushing her toward him. She bit her lip at the barrage of feelings rushing through her.
He skimmed his thumb over her lip, soothing it away from her teeth. He looked into her eyes for a long, potent moment, then lowered his gaze to her mouth. Katie forgot to breathe. Inch by excruciating inch, he lowered his head and his lips brushed hers.
She closed her eyes at the sweeping sensation inside her. She felt his fingers stroke her cheeks and jaw as if he wanted to know her bone-deep. A shiver ran through her and he slid his tongue across her bottom lip just inside her mouth. Tilting her head, he probed deeper. His fingers slid from her jaw to her head, and she felt like a flower blooming under his caress.
But it wasn't enough. Her head was spinning, but she knew she wanted more and she dropped her arms to her sides and she stepped closer until her body brushed against his. Her breasts skimmed his chest, and she would almost swear something crackled in the air.
She felt his hand slide down her back, urging her closer to him. He was hard, and his arousal made her knees feel like butter. Her nipples turned stiff against the fabric of her bra, and she felt a coil tighten between her thighs. Needs rose like volcanic lava, some basic, some deeper, and thickened the air between them.
He rocked against her, intimating a more erotic intimacy, then pulled his mouth from hers. He swore under his breath and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I want inside you,” he told her in a voice low and swollen with need. He slid a finger just beneath her tank top onto her bare skin and moved it with agonizing slowness down her chest to the top of her breast. A little lower and he would touch her nipple.
He stopped and Katie bit back a moan.
“I want to go as deep as I can go,” he said, and the roughness lacing his voice made her want to do something crazy like rip off her clothes. “But you're not ready.”
A protest bubbled up from deep inside her, but she clenched her teeth to keep it from spilling out. He helped her not to ask for more when he pressed his mouth over hers again in a warm French kiss that made dark, hot promises.
She'd just begun to taste him when he pulled back. His eyes were nearly black with the same arousal beating inside her.
“Night, Priss,” he said.
The name hit her like cold water. She sucked in a quick, shallow breath. He knew. With his deftness at conducting investigations via the computer, she shouldn't be surprised. But how…“How did you dig that up? You couldn't have learned that on the Internet.”
His gaze narrowed, then he raised his eyebrows. “Lucky guess.”
Lucky for who, she wondered. She felt naked, and wondered how much more he knew. “I don't know what all you've dug up, but I'm not like my mother,” she told him.
“Damn right you're not like your mother,” he said, the directness of his gaze nearly knocking her over.
She blinked, and a wave of more feelings she couldn't identify swam over her like high tide. He had just aroused her to the point of her nearly begging him to take her, yet at the same time, he'd assured her that he knew she wasn't a tramp. The combination confused her at the same time it made her feel lighter than air.
She rubbed her head. Too much. Her body was thrumming, her heart was tight, and her mind raced.
“Night,” he said again, lifting his finger to her cheek for a quick stroke. Backing away, he cocked his head toward his room. “See ya in the morning.”
“Good night,” she managed and watched him walk out of her room. She stared at the door for a full moment before she could move her feet. She double checked the lock and secured the chain, took a deep breath and tried to clear her head.
Mud, Katie thought. Thick brown mud. That was her brain. Kicking off her heels, she went to the bathroom and splashed water over her face, then looked in the mirror. Her eyes were still nearly black with desire, the way Michael's had been. She touched her lips, swollen from his kisses.
Curious in the same way she would be if she were looking at a train wreck, she pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra. Her breasts were flushed, her nipples still stiff. She touched them, amazed at how little he'd done and said and how much her body had reacted. Lower still, she felt wet and swollen in other places.
She waited for some kind of
I told you so
comment from her mother from the hereafter, but the only noise she heard was the echo of Michael's voice.
I want inside you
.
Damn right you're not like your mother.
She suspected it was going to take a month of Sundays to figure it all out, but she wondered if Michael knew he'd given her a gift she'd wanted as long as she could remember.
“
It's a funny thing, but for a special kind of man, making a woman laugh is almost as gratifying as getting her into bed.
”
—S
UNNY
C
OLLINS'S WISDOM
“
I
think I can. I think I can,” Wilhemina whispered to herself as she sprayed perfume to her throat. She wondered if
the little engine that could
would be offended or delighted to be the basis of her inspiration to seduce Douglas.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. For once, she just might be successful. Douglas had visited the house for lunch. Although she'd fixed him a sandwich, her stomach had still been a little queasy. Douglas had gently teased her, but she hadn't minded. He hadn't been mean, just funny in a sweet way.
She tugged on her hair, pushed at her plump cheeks, and sighed, wishing she looked different. This was as good as it was going to get, she thought, adjusting the one hat she'd brought with her. She wondered what he would say when he saw it. It bothered her that she still hadn't quite figured out how to broach the subject of getting him into bed. Biting her lip, she hoped inspiration would strike later.
She heard the screen door slam and her heart nearly bolted out of her chest. Taking a deep breath, she slowly walked to the hallway.
Douglas glanced up at her and his face froze. “Are you leaving already?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“But you're dressed like you're leaving. You're wearing a hat, for Pete's sake,” he said, pointing to her head.
Wilhemina felt a rush of embarrassment. “I just wanted to look nice. You know, dressing up can make you feel better.”
He frowned in concern. “You still sick?”
She bit back a groan. “No. Uh, this was my mother's hat.”
“Really,” he said, moving closer to take a more thorough look. “It's nice.”
She smiled. “You really think so?”
“Sure,” he said. “I just like your hair better. You got pretty, long brown hair.”
Her heart gave a hiccup. No man had ever complimented her hair. “Well, thank you for saying that.”
“Just the truth,” he said with a shrug. “I think I should warn you it's only gonna be burgers tonight. I can't eat steak every night. Too expensive.”
“Burgers would be great,” she said, still reeling over his compliment.
“Okay, and no margaritas.”
“No argument from me.”
He grinned. “Good. See ya after I wash up.”
As soon as he left, Wilhemina returned to the bedroom and pulled off the hat staring into the mirror. She'd never thought anything about her was pretty. Smoothing down her hair, she was very glad she'd come to Texas. With each passing moment, Douglas was looking more and more like her cowboy knight.
She joined him while he grilled the burgers, which they ate with chips and lemonade. Afterward, they took a little walk since her foot was better. When they returned to the house, she asked to see photos of his family.
Happy to comply, Douglas sat beside her on the sofa, his long, lean thigh pressed against hers while he told her story after story.
After a while, he glanced up at the clock. “Hell, it's almost ten o'clock. I'm boring you to death.”
She shook her head. “Not at all. I loved it.”
“You're too kind,” he said dryly. “It's almost my bedtime.”
Anxious for the evening not to end, Wilhemina bit her lip. “I'm not sleepy at all.”
“You're not?”
She shook her head, searching for an idea. Any idea. “You know we didn't get to play poker very long last night Do you think we could try again?”
“Sure,” he said and grabbed a deck of cards from a drawer in the walnut end table. He dealt the cards and Wilhemina tried to concentrate.
He easily beat her in the first game.
She performed a little better in the second when an idea occurred to her. “Don't people usually bet something when they play poker?”
“Yeah, but I'm not sure you're ready for that,” he said, laying down a straight.
She surprised him and herself when she set down four of a kind. “I'm getting a little better, aren't I?”
Glancing at her cards, he nodded and grinned. “Not bad for a beginner. What do you want to bet? Pennies?”
She paused for a long moment, then chickened out.
“What?” he prodded, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “What were you thinking?’’
She felt her cheeks heat and almost wished she could drink a margarita except for the fact that she didn't ever want to see another bottle of tequila. “It's nothing. Silly.”
“No. C'mon. Tell me.”
“You'll think I'm crazy.”
“I won't think you're crazy. Tell me.”
“Do you promise?”
He raised his right hand. “Promise.”
“Well, there are lots of things I haven't done,!’ she said, staring down at the sofa and rubbing her fingers over the upholstery.
“Such as?”
“Well, I haven't ridden a horse in a western style saddle.”
“What does that have to do with poker?”
“Nothing really,” she said, stifling a groan at her awkwardness. She squished her eyes closed, held her breath, and blurted it out, “I haven't ever played strip poker.”
A long, long silence followed.
Panic burned through her, and the worst embarrassment of her life followed right after. “I told you that you would think I'm crazy. I told you,” she said, hating the way her voice grew high and tight. “Just forget I ever said—”
Douglas covered her fidgeting hand. “I don't think you're crazy. I was just surprised.” He hooked his thumb under her chin and coaxed her gaze to meet his. “You haven't known me very long.”
Her heart pounding in her throat, Wilhemina took a careful breath. “No, but I trust you.”
He cleared his throat and chuckled. “I'm not sure that's such a good idea.”