Authors: Beverly Barton
Tags: #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General
Donna held Louisa, who had been asleep for over thirty minutes. She delayed going upstairs. Waiting, hoping, that Jake would be asleep when she put Louisa in her basinet. With each passing night, it became more and more difficult to sleep beside Jake and not turn to him for physical comfort and release.
So, would it be so bad if you did have sex with him?
That pesky voice encouraged her to succumb to her desires.
Just because you have sex with him doesn't mean you're going to fall in love with him. And it certainly doesn't mean you have to stay married to him!
But Donna knew that if she and Jake made love, he might assume she'd changed her mind about their marriage being temporary. Perhaps she could simply tell him—up front—that sex wouldn't change the ground rules. Come December, they were getting a divorce. They had agreed on six months and she expected him to abide by their agreement. But they had also agreed to a marriage in name only—no sex!
Donna rose from the recliner, climbed the stairs and tiptoed down the hallway. After opening the bedroom door, she paused, surveyed the semidark room and sighed with relief when she saw Jake's still form in the bed. He was asleep. Thank goodness.
She crept over to the basinet, quietly eased Louisa into place and then rushed into the bathroom. Breathless, her heart beating wildly, Donna leaned back against the closed door and shut her eyes.
Please, please,
she silently pleaded,
let Jake continue sleeping. If I can make it through tonight without giving in to him, I should be able to resist him for the next few months.
After drawing a bubble bath, Donna stepped in and soaked for nearly an hour. Every time she ran the washcloth over her body, she shivered. Memories of Jake's caressing hands and attentive lips flashed through her mind.
Stop this! she told herself as she emerged from the tub and wrapped herself in a large, fluffy towel. Think about something besides Jake's expertise as a lover. Remember the kind of man he is. An ex-mercenary. A tough cowboy with nothing to show for his life except the hopes of owning a quarter horse ranch.
He isn't anything like Edward.
That's it! Think about Edward. How much you loved him. How happy the two of you were together.
But Edward was a fading memory. A sweet memory, but no more than that. Jake was a living, breathing man, who was out there in her bedroom, lying in her bed. All she had to do was touch him, whisper his name and he would take her. And take her. And take her!
Donna trembled as her body recalled the unparalleled pleasure of Jake's lovemaking. With shaky fingers, she grabbed her gown, slid it over her head and then reached for the doorknob.
Just go get into bed and go to sleep. Stay on your side. Don't touch him. And if he touches you, do not react.
Easing back the covers, she hesitated, waiting to see if Jake moved or spoke. He didn't. She crawled into bed and pulled the sheet and blanket up over her shoulders. Tension tightened every muscle in her body. She listened and heard only the sound of Jake's breathing. He is asleep, she told herself. He's asleep and I'm safe for one more night.
She lay there, her back to him. Waiting for her body to relax. Waiting for her mind to shut down. Waiting for sleep. Minutes ticked by—endless minutes of which she lost count. Neither relaxation nor sleep came to her. Only unwanted thoughts of Jake. His dark, piercing eyes. His broad, hairy chest. His big, muscular arms. His deep, throaty laughter.
She smelled the uniquely masculine scent of the man lying next to her. The light citrus aroma of Jake's soap clung to his skin and body hair. She had an almost irresistible urge to bury her face against his chest and breathe in the odor of clean manliness.
"What's the matter, sugar, can't you sleep?"
Donna jumped as if she'd been shot. Oh, God, he's not asleep!
"No, I—I suppose I'm too emotionally exhausted to rest," she told him.
He rolled over so that his body touched hers. She sucked in a deep breath. Lowering his head so that his lips were against her ear, he nuzzled her neck.
"What you need is a massage."
No, please, don't let him touch me.
His big hand clamped down on her shoulder. She trembled from head to toe. As he sat up and braced his back against the headboard, he pulled Donna into a sitting position between his legs.
"Relax, sugar." He grasped her shoulders. "You're way too tense."
The moment he caressed her through the thin cotton material of her gown, she moaned quietly. A tingling sensation came to life in her femininity and within seconds spread outward through her whole body. She loved the feel of his big hands as they kneaded her shoulders.
"You don't play fair," she said. "Please, Jake, I don't want this. I don't—"
"Yes, you do." He leaned down and kissed her neck. "Why are you fighting it, sugar? Why don't you just let it happen? Remember how good it is between you and me?"
Yes, she remembered. Every touch. Every kiss. Every wild and passionate moment.
"But it's just sex," she said breathlessly. "We don't love each other and we aren't going to stay married."
"Is that what's bothering you?" Jake nipped her ear as he slid his hands down her arms and across to cup her breasts in his palms. "If it is, then stop worrying. I'm not asking for anything more than tonight and the pleasure we can give each other."
His thumbs raked across her nipples. Coming to life, her breasts pressed against the confining material of her gown. She moaned as ripples of longing undulated through her body.
She should tell him that this wasn't what she wanted, that their making love would only complicate an already
terribly complicated situation. But why should she lie to
herself and to him? Why should she deny them both the chance to release some of the nerve-racking tension that radiated between them? Hadn't he just said that he didn't expect more than this one night? Wasn't that concern the reason she was so uncertain, so afraid?
She turned in his arms. Their gazes met and held. He clasped her face in his big hands, brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her with gentle force. Her body throbbed with need. She opened her mouth and invited his invasion. He plunged and plundered, deepening the kiss, as he cupped the back of her head with one hand. Lowering his other hand between them, he unbuttoned her gown, slipped his hand inside and covered her breast. Lightning flashes of sensation zigzagged from her breasts to her femininity.
When they were both out of breath, Jake eased his mouth from hers and painted a moist trail down her throat. She tossed back her head, allowing him full access. His tongue delved inside the front of her gown, seeking out the lush sweetness of her breast. When he licked her, she cried out as intense pleasure burst inside her.
"Oh, Jake. Jake." She moaned his name several times as she threaded her fingers through his hair, encouraging his tender assault on her breasts.
When he lifted her enough to catch the hem of her gown, she cooperated fully and allowed him to remove the thin cotton garment. She sat there on the bed, completely naked, her skin sensitive to his touch, her nipples beaded, her feminine core clenching and releasing as moisture gathered between her thighs.
"I know what you need, sugar. Please, let me love you." Jake skimmed her body with his fingertips, lingering over her breasts. Then he explored the secrets of her moist folds.
She squirmed against his hand as she sought relief. While he petted her, she reached out and tugged on his briefs. He lifted his hips to assist her in removing his only garment.
She could make out the silhouette of his big body in the semi-darkness, but she needed more than that shadowed glimpse. So much more. She circled his erection. His deep, husky groan pleased her.
"I need you so, Jake. Please, make love to me." She could no longer fight both her own wanton desires and his overwhelming masculinity.
With her permission, he devoured her, nibbling, licking, sucking, until she writhed on the bed in an agony of sensuality. He parted her thighs. She shivered when his tongue slid up her inner thigh. She held her breath as his mouth moved higher and higher, finally stopping when he reached his destination. The moment his lips made intimate contact with her damp flesh, Donna cried out. Jake lifted her hips, bringing her closer to his marauding mouth. Then he began a slow, sensual attack that soon had her weeping as her body coiled tighter and tighter. With one final sweep of his tongue, he snapped the cord and flung her into a release so intense that uncontrollable shudders racked her body.
Before she had a chance to recover from the intense climax, Jake rose up and over her. She reached out for him, wanting him inside her, needing all of him. He cupped her hips, lifted them to meet his thrust and plunged deeply and completely. They twisted and turned on the bed, exchanging positions of dominance, while their bodies joined in a passionate frenzy.
When her body tightened, Jake knew she was on the verge of another climax. He accelerated the pace, taking her harder and faster. The moment she spun out of control, his release hit him full-force. The power of their simultaneous completion shattered them into a million shards of pleasure.
As the aftershocks rippled through their bodies, they lay in each other's arms, their bodies wet with perspiration, their breaths ragged and their lips seeking contact. They kissed with tenderness, each needing the continued loving. He caressed her hip. She curled his chest hair around her fingers.
She felt as wanton and wicked as she had last summer, when she'd spent the weekend in a sexual haze. How was it possible that being in Jake's arms turned her into a hussy capable of anything?
When she tried to pull away from him, he wrapped his arms around her, dragged her on top of him and whispered, "Ah, sugar, don't run off so soon. The night's just begun."
She closed her eyes and listened to the loud, steady beat of his heart. All she wanted to do was drape her body around his and stay right where she was forever.
"Louisa will wake soon. She'll need to be changed and fed," Donna said, lying on Jake, her whole body attuned to his.
"And when she does, you'll take care of her." Jake rubbed Donna's damp back, then lowered his hands to stroke her buttocks. "Afterward, when Louisa is asleep again, how about letting me take care of you?"
"Jake … I—"
"Don't say no, not when you want it as much as I do." He nuzzled the side of her face until she turned enough so that he could capture her mouth. When he ended the ardent kiss, he mumbled against her moist lips, "Just for tonight."
Jake awoke at dawn and realized Donna wasn't in the bed with him. Lifting himself up on one elbow, he leaned over and looked down into the basinet. Louisa slept like an angel. So, where was Donna? He scanned the room quickly and discovered the French doors leading onto the balcony were open. He flung back the covers, got up and strolled out onto the balcony. Donna stood there in the moonlight, the warm summer breeze swaying the nearby tree branches, which created wavy shadows across her body. A body he knew as well as he knew his own. After she had nursed Louisa and returned their child to her basinet, he had explored his wife's lush body with delight and appreciation. Their second mating had been more leisurely than the first, with the added pleasure of extensive foreplay.
"Donna?"
She jumped and gasped simultaneously, then glanced over her shoulder. "I'm all right. Go back to bed, Jake. I just need some time alone to think things through." She turned her attention to the night sky.
"Sometimes, you do too much thinking." He slipped his arms around her and tugged her back against his chest. "I like you better when you're feeling and not thinking."
"You know that we can't base a marriage—a life together—on sex, no matter how good it is."
"And it is good, isn't it?" Lowering his head alongside hers, he rubbed his rough chin against her smooth cheek.
"We have an agreement and nothing has changed because of … what happened."
"We're still getting a divorce come December, right? Is there some reason you thought you needed to remind me of that fact?"
"I didn't want you to think that our making love had changed anything between us," she said.
"Are you sure I'm the one you're trying to convince?"
She whirled around in his arms and glared at him. "What do you mean by that?"
Jake eased his index fingers up the outer side of Donna's
bare arms. She shivered. "Maybe you're afraid that what
happened between us tonight changed things for you. Is that what's bothering you?"
"No, of course not."
"Then we don't have a problem, do we?" He turned and walked into the bedroom, knowing that what they'd shared tonight
had
changed things for both of them. But he was willing to admit the truth, only if Donna was able to admit it, too. He figured it would take more than one night to bring her around to his way of thinking. He just had to bide his time, take advantage of every opportunity and make love to his wife as often as she'd allow. After all, he had until December to persuade Donna that they should stay married.
Eight
The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed four times. Donna fidgeted in the armchair, her gaze checking the doorway. Jake came in from the ranch at various times—anywhere from five to seven, depending upon his workload for the day. If she were lucky, he wouldn't arrive until long after her study club had dispersed. The last thing she wanted was for her social acquaintances to meet Jake while he was hot, sweaty and dirty. Although she thought he was the sexiest man alive no matter what state he was in, she wanted to shield him from her colleagues' judgmental glances. And protect herself from more gossip.
He usually came in through the side door and took a shower in the bathroom adjacent to the den. If he followed his normal routine, she'd hear him when he came in and might have time to usher her friends out the front door before he poked his head in to say hello. What she didn't
want was Stephanie Lamont meeting him at all. The woman
was sure to give a full report to her uncle, President Harding, on Donna Fields's home life. Tongues were already wagging and speculations on her actions ranged from "She must be insane to have
remarried
that cowboy" to "The man is quite attractive and he
is
Governor Rand's brother-in-law."
Donna glanced into the dining room and saw the woman who had cleaned her home, twice a week, for the past four years. The plump, forty-year-old mother of three also helped out whenever the study club met at Donna's house or whenever she hosted a party. Jimmie Lou Long placed the silver coffeepot on the silver tray atop the buffet, then stared directly at Donna. She nodded her head toward the kitchen. Donna wondered what Jimmie Lou was trying to tell her. Some minor disaster in the kitchen? Whatever it was, she probably needed to check on the matter.
"You do know that Selina Forbes is getting a half-a-million-dollar settlement," Gloria Kirkland said. "She always was a smart girl."
Tittering laughter tinkled throughout the living room. Donna smiled and laughed on cue, but when she glanced back into the dining room, she noticed that Jimmie Lou was still standing there, rolling her eyes and nodding her head repeatedly toward the kitchen. Donna hoped the garbage disposal hadn't gone on the fritz again.
"Now, that's what you should have done, Donna." Patricia Weston reached over and laid her hand on Donna's arm.
Donna turned her attention from Jimmie Lou's peculiar behavior to Patricia's comment. "I beg your pardon?"
"If you had to succumb to a whirlwind romance and get yourself pregnant, you should have found yourself some millionaire instead of a worthless cowboy," Patricia said.
"Lord, yes!" Gloria sighed dramatically. "That way, when the marriage ended in divorce, you'd wind up with something substantial to show for giving the beast the best years of your life."
Silly laughter rose from the group of five socially prominent ladies. Heat flushed Donna's cheeks. She had known that her so-called friends looked down on Jake, despite the fact that he was the First Lady of Tennessee's brother, but no one had been insensitive enough to malign him in front of her—not until today. But then, this was the first social gathering she'd attended since Louisa's birth and her marriage to Jake.
Donna opened her mouth to tell them that Jake might be penniless, but he wasn't worthless. He was gentle, kind and loving. After their passionate night together three weeks ago, they had made love every chance they got. She realized that by giving in to her very human needs, she ran the risk of caring too much for her husband. Had she fooled herself into believing she wouldn't fall in love with Jake, that she could end their marriage with no regrets?
"I hear your husband is a real hunk," Marcia Duggar said. "Big and dark and even better looking than Caleb Bishop, in an older, more rugged way."
"Jake is—" Donna said.
"Gorgeous or not, did you have to marry him?" Claudia Ryan asked. "He's probably fabulous in the sack, but—"
"Of course she had to marry him." Stephanie set her china cup and saucer down on the end table beside the sofa, then smiled coyly. "Donna is hardly the type of woman who'd have sex with a man and have his child if she weren't married."
Donna realized that everyone sitting cozily together in her living room knew the truth—that she and Jake hadn't married and divorced in a whirlwind romance last summer.
"You certainly aren't going to stay married," Gloria said. "I mean, what on earth could you and a man like that have in common?"
"I understand that he didn't even graduate from high school," Patricia informed the group. "Amanda Waters told me that Jake Bishop had a reputation as a wild man, a real bad boy, before he left Crooked Oak, when he was eighteen. Seems he not only got involved with his employer's wife, but he stole money from the man."
Donna opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word, Gloria piped in, "What on earth were you thinking, getting involved with a man like that? Your mother would be appalled that you'd married so beneath you."
"I hear your uncle hasn't even acknowledged the marriage," Stephanie said.
"Uncle Duncan lives in Europe since he retired and—" Donna said.
"My poor Donna." Marcia shook her head sadly. "Naturally, we all understand that once this man showed up and announced he was Louisa's father, you really had no choice but to marry him."
"You've been married for a couple of months now, surely you can begin divorce proceedings soon." Claudia picked up a cucumber sandwich from her plate.
"I can only imagine what it must be like having to live with such a … a caveman. He's good for sex, but not much else, I suspect." Gloria sipped her coffee. "He's an uneducated, worthless cowboy. I'd make sure his visitation rights with Louisa were very limited. You certainly don't want him contaminating her little mind."
Donna was on the verge of screaming,
Get out of my house and never come back! How dare you talk about my husband that way! He's a wonderful father and Louisa adores him. I adore him.
"Howdy, ladies." Jake Bishop swaggered into the living room.
The five women looked up and gasped in unison. Donna closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer for God's help.
A day's growth of dark stubble covered Jake's lean, rugged face. Dust and grime clung to his torn chambray shirt and faded jeans. Damp perspiration spots covered his shirt and sweat trickled down his neck. His moist black hair clung to his head. And he definitely smelled like a man who'd spent the day around horses.
What was he doing home so early and why had he come into the living room in his work clothes?
Oh, God! That was what Jimmie Lou had been trying to tell her—that Jake was in the kitchen. Had he heard everything her hateful friends had said about him? Donna's shoulders slumped. She glanced down at her feet. Sheer feminine instinct told her that this was going to get ugly! Jake wasn't the type of man who would take insults lightly.
Jake walked directly toward Donna, reached down and lifted her out of her chair. Shocked by his actions, she didn't respond in time to stop him from giving her a tongue-thrusting kiss. Despite the fact that her friends were watching, Donna couldn't stop herself from responding. But just as soon as she did, Jake ended the kiss and slid his arm around her waist.
"Introduce me to these good-looking broads. I could hear you gals cackling all the way out in the kitchen."
Forcing a smile, Donna made the introductions. The five guests couldn't seem to keep their eyes off the big, dirty, sweaty man standing in the middle of Donna's antique-filled living room. He looks as out of place as a bull in a china shop, Donna thought.
"Hey, babe, how about getting me a beer?" Jake swatted her backside before he slumped down on the Duncan Phyfe sofa, right between Gloria and Patricia. Both women gasped and scooted to the edges of the cream-colored cushions, as if they were ready to take flight. Jake flung his arms across the back of the sofa behind each woman.
"Hurry up, honey bunch," Jake told his wife. "Get your butt in gear and go get me a beer. I'm dying of thirst!"
Jake lifted his feet and plopped his dirty work boots down on the antique mahogany coffee table. Five women cried out as if in pain. Jake grinned. Donna closed her eyes and prayed once again for divine intervention. Her husband knew exactly what he was doing—embarrassing her on purpose.
Donna hurried toward the dining room, but didn't make it into the kitchen before Jimmie Lou emerged with an open beer bottle in her hand.
"I tried to tell you that he was in the kitchen," Jimmie Lou whispered. "But you ignored me."
"How long was he out there?" Donna asked
"Long enough to hear every word that was said about him."
Donna grabbed the beer and rushed back into the living room. "Here you are." She handed him the beer.
Jake grabbed the beer, lifted it to his lips and downed half before he set the moist bottle directly onto the shiny wood surface, of the coffee table. The women's gazes moved from Jake's grinning face to the offensive bottle marring the perfection of the table's finish.
The minute her friends left, Jake Bishop was a dead man. Donna glared at her husband, who ignored her menacing look.
Jake reached down on the coffee table and picked up the uneaten portion of Gloria's cucumber sandwich, popped it into his mouth, smacked loudly and licked his lips.
Stephanie rose from her chair. "I really think we should be going."
A simultaneous gasp from the five female guests echoed in Donna's ears like the aftershocks of a cannon blast. She wasn't going to kill Jake instantly. Oh, no. She was going to torture him slowly!
One by one, the ladies rose from their seats and made excuses for having to leave. Jake stood, followed the guests toward the foyer and when they paused to say farewell, reached out and swatted Stephanie and Marcia on their backsides.
"You gals stop by anytime." He winked and grinned wickedly.
The women scurried out the front door like rats escaping a sinking ship. The moment Donna closed the front door, she turned, placed her hands on her hips and glowered at Jake.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" She lifted her hand and pointed her right index finger into Jake's face. "Those women are going to tell everyone I know that my husband is the most uncouth, unmannerly, uncivilized redneck they've ever met! And Stephanie Lamont just happens to be President Harding's niece."
"I don't see what you're so worried about." Jake's cocky grin vanished. "Those women already thought the worst of me. I just made sure that I lived up to their expectations."
"But you aren't uncouth, unmannerly or uncivilized! Why did you have to put on an Academy Award-winning performance?"
"If I'm none of those things, then why didn't you bother to tell your friends that their comments about me were unfounded?" Jake grabbed Donna's shoulders. "Why didn't you defend me?"
"I was going to, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. Then you came barging in and made a fool of me in front of my study club. I could hardly tell them that you were putting on an act solely for their benefit."
Jimmie Lou cleared her throat. Jake released his tenacious hold on Donna's shoulders and the two of them turned to see the housekeeper, purse in hand, standing behind them.
"I've got everything cleared away and the dishwasher loaded," Jimmie Lou said. "I'll be running along now." She eased past Jake and Donna and made her way quickly out the front door.
Donna stomped her foot. "What must Jimmie Lou think? I wouldn't blame her if she never came back to this house, after the way you behaved this afternoon."
"You worry too damn much about what other people think!" Jake said, then turned and headed up the stairs.
"Take off those filthy boots! You're getting grime all over the floor." Donna glared at Jake's dirty work boots. "And don't you dare walk away from me. I have a few things to say to you."
"You didn't say enough to your friends before they left, and you've already said more than enough to me." Jake sat on the steps, unlaced his boots and tossed them toward his wife. "Here are my filthy boots." He stood, unbuttoned his shirt and flung it onto the floor.
When he unbuckled his belt, Donna huffed disgustedly. "Now, what are you doing?"
"I'm filthy from head to toe, so I thought I'd remove all my offensive attire before I sully your bathroom." Jake undid his belt, unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them.
He stood there, wearing nothing but a pair of white cotton briefs and a stern look on his face. Donna fought the urge to pick up the nearest solid object and throw it at him. The macho jerk had made a fool of her. Why hadn't he come into the living room, been his charming good-ole-boy self and dispelled all the misconceptions her study club members had about him? Oh, no, he'd had to prove something to her because his feelings were hurt. Or maybe it was more than his feelings. Maybe they had dented his male pride.
But why should she give a damn about his pride when he obviously didn't concern himself with hers?
"There's no excuse for the way you acted!" she told him.
"And there's no excuse for your allowing those women to talk about your husband the way they did."
Jake turned to go up the stairs. Donna gasped when she noticed a huge, dark bruise on his back.