Stripper: The Fringe, Book 4 (30 page)

“Why worry about rhetorical questions?”

Pressing her hand to her lower belly, Diane thought back to Michael leaning over her, sniffing her, judging her and telling her she’d betray Duster again. If she didn’t give him another child, would Michael see that as a betrayal? Would Duster? He had said they would find a way to have more children, and she was thinking he meant adoption, but would that
really
satisfy him?

Duster loved children. He’d built his entire world around them, and not just his own children but other people’s kids as well. And Duster held himself back for the promise of mating with her again. Right before the clueless ship of traders had forced their way aboard the
Den of Iniquity
, Duster had reached for his fly to yank it down. In his hurry, he’d bumped his knuckles against her deliciously sensitive clit. Diane had lowered her hands to help him push his trousers aside. In the heat of that moment, she’d not thought about consequences, and neither had he.

They had later, but not that first time. If not for being interrupted, her hesitation now would be a moot point. Last night as they lay together so exhausted, Diane felt Duster thick and hard, throbbing against her buttock. She’d wanted him so badly she’d woken up repeatedly. Seven years seemed long enough to worry, wondering and waiting for him. Dreaming of him. Lusting after him and crying over him. Seeing him in almost everything Scott did.

“How could I ever let fear hold me back from giving him everything he deserves?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

While doing the dishes with Scott, Duster called over on his wrist com to ask Steve Richards about stopping by and seeing the puppies.

“Come on over anytime. I’ll be here all day. If I don’t answer the door, come around to the back, since I’m building that shed Rena wants. Finally. Said she’d check around to see if Satan skated to work today.”

“Far as I know, Michael walked.”

They both laughed.

“I guess now that you have a wife, that crap about you and Rena will stop?” Richards sounded as if he was moving wood around as they spoke.

“Let us hope.” Duster stacked dishes in the washer. “We’ll be by in a few I think. If I can get my wife out of the house.” He said it with a giddy thrill. Not a vain woman, Diane would still want to look her best and he couldn’t wait to see her. Moreover, he couldn’t resist a surge of macho-male pride in showing her off, especially to those who had good-naturedly ribbed him about his monk lifestyle. He wanted them to see Diane so he could say
now you know why I waited
.

“Rena and the kids aren’t here. They went over to help the Rogers family with painting the new house and to give me time to do the rough on the shed without curious little hands wanting to help.”

“Another strong back would make quick work of it,” Duster offered.

“That it would,” Steve agreed. “And now that your wife is around, I imagine that nonsense about you and Rena not seeing each other will stop.”

“It would be nice if it did.”

“Always feel like it’s a code red when someone spots you coming. Foolishness, if you ask me. I know and you know and Rena knows you two aren’t remotely interested in each other. I’m gonna be real glad to have this crap put to bed once and for all, so to speak.”

“You and me both.” Duster looked up.

Diane stood in the archway to the kitchen, looking like a sexy, reserved, luscious kind of prim-and-proper teacher who knew all kinds of lascivious lessons.

Catching his gaze, she arched her brow in a deliberately slow and seductive way. And then she curled the edge of her glossy lips up to follow her suggestive brow.

Getting hard so fast he literally felt the blood drain from his brain and pool between his hips, Duster stammered, “We’ll be there soon.”

Cutting the connection, he told Scott to wipe off the table, then grabbed Diane’s hand and pulled her into the main room.

“What’s wrong?”

Wrapping her up in his arms, he kissed her, harsh and impatient. He didn’t stop until she kissed him back with the same feverish need. Once he heard Scott reenter the kitchen, he stopped.

“Wow.” Diane took a deep breath.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he whispered, “You look stunning. I’m almost afraid to show you off. I’m worried you’ll be like the pied piper with a trail of drooling males in your wake.”

Blushing, Diane traced her finger down his cotton-and-canvas-covered chest. “I have the same fear.”

“Why would a bunch of drooling males be following me around?”

Rolling her eyes, Diane said, “You know what I mean.”

“Dunno. I’ve been called everything from a monk to frigid. My favorite is the label of non-practicing homosexual. Like perhaps I know how to do it so well, I don’t need to practice anymore.”

“People think you’re gay?” Stunned, Diane said it with a blank face.

“Some. Guess who they think I’m pining for?” Duster fluttered his lashes and flicked back his head in a shimmering, effeminate manner.

“Michael?”

“Some have said.” Duster shrugged, then noticed the look on her face. “Are you about to ask me if I am?”

“Actually, yes, I was, and I don’t know why, because I know you aren’t.” Diane giggled madly. “I feel punch-drunk with happiness. Giddy. I don’t think I’ve ever described myself as giddy in my life.”

“Do you feel like you’re about to wake up at any moment and find out none of this is real?”

“Yes.”

Softly, Duster pinched her fanny. “I could occasionally pinch you to remind you you’re awake.”

Just as boldly, Diane returned the pinch. “Okay.”

“I finished the table,” Scott declared as he entered the living room. He glared at his parents. “Aren’t you two ready yet?” He seemed incredulous they weren’t moving at warp speed.

“Keep your hat on, sport, we’re almost ready.” Duster looked at Scott’s shoes, then lifted up the skirt of Diane’s dress.

“What are you—”

“We’re gonna be walking. Do you have some suitable shoes?” Eyeing her still naked feet, he couldn’t believe just the sight of her slender ankles made him hot. More and more he felt like an adolescent boy. He’d never looked at any woman and got so excited except for Diane.

Looking around helplessly, Diane ventured, “I have a pair of sandals that match my dress.”

“Heels?”

“Modest ones.”

Scott groaned, loud and long, as if he alone suffered the torments of the ages. Hissing and dragging the word out until it had almost three syllables, Scott said, “Mom!”

“Here’s the plan. Scott? You verify all the gates in the backyard are locked. Then check all the house doors and windows. I’ll find some shoes for Mom.”

Scott took off like a rocket. He dug his heels in so suddenly his boots screeched on the kitchen tiles. “Then we’ll go see the puppies?” No way would he willingly follow another order without some clear sight to his goal.

“Then we’ll go.”

“Promise?”

“Barring a major catastrophe, I promise.” Duster watched Scott tear off to finish this last task.

“Do you have to keep everything locked up?” Diane’s concerned gaze turned to assess the peaceful space around them. Diane seemed to wake up from a dangerously false notion of security all at once. Parts of Windmere might look and feel like a cozy little rural community, but this was no patch of safe ground.

Duster more felt her sudden shift than saw it. Instantaneously, Duster watched the whole of it fall on Diane. Her feet, their son’s feet, were not on a WAG, IWOG or Fringe planet but on the only independent one so far. Just about everyone on the WAG, IWOG or Fringe planets wanted to live on, destroy or exploit this one tiny world on the edge of known space. There was a certain amount of safety here, but danger too, because they had freedom. And sometimes you had to fight to keep your freedom. A fight you might lose.

“I can’t promise the worst won’t come, Diane. I wish I could. All I can tell you is that Windmere is damn near invasion-proof. Mary’s played the game of getting off-planet and on-planet to the point I’m amazed light from the sun still manages to hit Windmere.”

“She’s that good?”

“Yep. Anyway, I lock up mainly because of the safety issues. Dogs and kids and other curious animals get loose sometimes. My biggest concern is our pool. Come on, let’s find you some shoes.”

Clearly reluctant, Diane let him look through her footwear.

He quickly chucked everything in her wardrobe. “Don’t you have something that won’t dig into your feet within a hundred steps?”

Biting her lip, Diane cast her gaze to a battered backpack that she’d tossed in the corner of her closet. When Duster moved to open it, she said, “I can’t wear those.”

Yanking open the pack, he found a ratty pair of blue sneakers. “These are perfect.”

“They hardly match my dress,” Diane pointed out. She sat rather dejectedly on the side of the bed.

“So?” Then he got it. She wanted to look nice, and she did, but she couldn’t wear those fancy shoes. “Diane. Look.” He found a pair of her socks and slipped them on her. He then laced up her ratty sneakers to her lovely—and at this moment driving him mad with lust—feet. “We are going to walk down the street to see the puppies. Downhill. Thing is, we gotta walk back up. You’ll thank me for making you wear these.”

Mortified, Diane let him put the shoes on. “You know, these are the shoes I wore the night I gave birth to Scott?”

“You haven’t worn them since?” He wished suddenly he could have been there with her to experience Scott’s birth.

“No.” Diane considered her shoes, then leaned over, grabbed her battered backpack, dumped the contents on the floor, plucked up her fancy shoes, placed them inside, then rose to collect other items she also tossed within the gullet of the seemingly bottomless bag.

“We’re going down street, not to another planet.”

“I like to be prepared.”

“For what? Honey, you don’t need all that—” Duster cut himself off. The only woman he knew who didn’t pack around a purse stuffed with junk was Mary. “Knock yourself out. We’ll strap the kitchen sink to my back if it will make you happy.”

Diane grinned, then grabbed a few more items from her bathroom.

Meanwhile, Duster checked on Scott and found he’d done a good job securing the house. “You only missed one window.”

“In Mom’s bathroom.” Scott gave her a dark scowl, which she playfully returned.

“We’ll have to work with her on that. You did a great job.”

Scott grinned with pride at Duster’s compliment, then grabbed both their hands and yanked them toward the door, unwilling to wait one more second. “Come on, come on, come on!”

As they walked down the dirt and gravel road, neighbors along the way waved, seemingly unsurprised to find Duster with a wife and child in tow.

“Word spread quickly,” Duster whispered out the side of his mouth to her as he waved at another neighbor. “Bet a bunch of them are calling Richards right now to let him know we’re coming down the street.”

Duster’s assessment was correct, as Steve Richards greeted them at the door with a huge grin. “Circle the wagons! Throw up the battlements! Duster’s on his way!” Steve waved his hands around in mock panic.

Both of them laughed. Then Duster formally introduced Diane and Scott. They followed him through the modest house, one obviously well lived in by kids and dogs, to the backyard. Duster wanted his house to have this same clean but casually messy look.

Muffin basked in the sun as five wriggly puppies nursed at her belly. Scott seemed ready to run at the dogs, but Steve grasped his shoulder. “Whoa, there. Gotta move slow. We don’t want to scare her.” Carefully, Steve had Scott give out his hand for Muffin to sniff.

“Why?” Scott’s voice was filled with awe at being so close to something he’d wanted for so very long. Having a puppy was Scott’s holy grail. Well, at this stage in his life it was. Duster figured that was bound to change as he got older.

“Mothers can get protective,” Duster said, crouching, letting Muffin sniff him before he pet her. “We don’t want her to be afraid of you, so she has to smell you first and make sure you’re not a threat to her babies. Be careful, move slowly and talk softly. Okay?”

“I will.” Scott settled himself reverently beside the dog and petted her for a while before he turned his attention to the puppies.

Diane too let Muffin sniff her hand, then stroked the dog’s short black, tan and white fur. As she and Scott talked quietly beside the dogs, Duster and Steve went over to discuss the building of a shed.

The next time she glanced over, Duster had his vest and shirt off and was working with Steve to guide huge posts into holes. He was sweaty and glistening. She couldn’t take her gaze off him. All the muscles in his arms and back strained with effort. So arousing did she find the sight, she blushed when Duster finally caught her gaze and winked.

Eventually, Scott grew bored with watching the puppies nurse and went over to help. “Can I take my shirt off too?”

“Sure.” Duster nodded.

“Is there anything I can do?” Diane offered.

“This is guy stuff, Mom,” Scott declared.