Surrender To Sultry (4 page)

“To tell you I’m sorry for what I did. I want to explain wh—”

“Are you apologizing to all the women you’ve seduced?” If so, he’d better clear his
schedule for the next six months.

“No.” His gaze burned into hers, deadly serious and tugging that knot until her ribs
threatened to crack. “There’s only you.”

The crisp autumn air turned to soup, thick and steamy and impossible to breathe.
There’s only you, Angel
. That’s what he used to say every time she’d laced her fingers behind his broad neck
and asked if he loved her. But Colt did
not
love her, probably never had. He was toying with her now just as he’d done back then.

“I forgive you,” she said. “So you can go now.”

“Liar.”

She pulled her sweater sleeves over her clammy hands and shrugged one shoulder. “If
you don’t believe me, that’s your problem.”

“I don’t believe you, and we’re not done talking.”

“Oh, yeah?” She’d show him otherwise. Raising one brow, she backed slowly up the stairs.
“’Cause I think we are.”

“What’re you afraid of, Leah?”

There it was again—her name dipped in the chocolate of his voice. “
Afraid?
” she scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself, CJ.” Instantly, she realized what she’d done,
and her cheeks went up in flames. She hoped he hadn’t noticed that she’d called him
by his old nickname, the one she’d only used when they were…
alone
.

His eyes brightened, and a sly smile curved his lips, teeth flashing white against
his dark skin. He’d definitely noticed, darn it. “Okay, honey.” Still grinning like
a hyena, he hitched a thumb toward his Harley. “I’ll leave you alone, for now. But
sooner or later, we’re gonna have that talk.”

“What-
ever
.” Oh, Lord. She sounded seventeen! “I’ve gotta check on Daddy.” And before she could
humiliate herself any further, she retreated into the house.

***

An hour later, she occupied herself with the task of tidying up after Daddy’s guests.
The wave of visitors had crested, and only one remained—the associate pastor, Brother
Mike, who sat beside Daddy on the sofa as they discussed Sunday’s sermon.

Leah shuttled half-full glasses of watered-down iced tea and Coca-Cola from the living
room into the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. When she’d finished wiping the rings
off the coffee table, she laid out a pound of chicken breasts to thaw for supper,
then brought Daddy his daily dose of Coumadin and baby aspirin.

She’d just sat down for a break when her iPad chimed from its resting place atop the
corner curio. Reflexively, her eyes widened and met with Daddy’s across the room.
They both knew who was calling. She only Skyped with one other person, and she didn’t
want Brother Mike, or anyone else, to find out whom.

“Excuse me,” she said to Mike as she jumped to her feet to grab the tablet. “I’ll
take this in the other room so I don’t disturb y’all.”

Y’all?

Three days in Texas and already her accent was prairie-dogging it. She ran down the
hall into her bedroom and shut the door before swiping her index finger across the
glossy screen. Bold white lettering announced
Noah
Ackerman
calling
. She tapped the screen and waited for the three-second delay to pass before greeting
her son.

“Hey, Bud.”

A blur of colors filled the screen, and then Noah’s image came into focus—sea-blue
eyes smiling above russet cheeks, a mop of black hair brushing his shoulders. He flashed
the classic gap-toothed grin of a nine-year-old. “Hi, Miss Leah.”

She’d always been painfully aware that Noah favored his father, but having just seen
Colt in the flesh, the resemblance seemed even more striking. Noah had inherited Leah’s
peaceful nature and Colt’s…well, everything else. It seemed his DNA had unceremoniously
elbowed hers aside, but considering the way he’d demanded center stage in life, why
would his genes behave any differently? If she hadn’t been conscious during delivery
and seen Noah with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed the child was hers.

Not
mine
, she scolded inwardly.
Not
really
. No matter how open the adoption, Noah called another woman “Mom.” That would never
change.

She glanced at the bedside alarm clock. “It’s only three,” she said. “Why aren’t you
in school?”

“I’m sick.”

She brought the iPad a little closer to scrutinize Noah’s image. He didn’t look sick.
Didn’t sound it, either. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a tummy ache, but I’m okay now.”

“Good. I’m glad you feel better.”

Instead of responding with an account of his day, he fell silent and slouched. That
wasn’t like him. Usually he rattled on about Pokemons, Bakugans, and other assorted
Japanese–ons she didn’t understand.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

He perked up as if he’d been waiting for her to ask. “Mom won’t let me play Mario
Kart. She says if I’m too sick to go to school, then I’m too sick for anything else.”

Leah smiled. “My daddy used to say the same thing, but with TV instead of video games.
He always made me stay in bed when I was sick.”

“Don’t you think that’s a stupid rule?”

She took a moment to form a careful response. Diane was a good mother to Noah, and
Leah didn’t want to undermine her authority. “I think you need to respect your mama
by doing what she says.”

That wasn’t what Noah wanted to hear. He’d always known Leah was his birth mother,
but until the last six months, he hadn’t matured enough to understand what that meant.
Since then, he’d begun testing the boundaries, trying to play her in a game of “divide
and conquer” against his parents every time they disciplined him. But Leah refused
to surrender, no matter how good it might feel to give Noah what he wanted and be
his hero for a change.

“Can you talk to her for me?” he begged.

“I’m not going against your mama, Bud.”

Black brows formed a slash over his eyes as he jutted out his bottom lip. “Fine. I
gotta go.”

“Okay,” she said with a casual shrug. It stung to know he’d only called for permission
to play his video game, but she hid her disappointment. “Love you.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t make out before abruptly disconnecting.

Leah’s heart sank. Like any child, Noah had his quirks, but he was usually a sweet
boy. He’d never hung up on her before. Numbly, she powered off her iPad and set it
on the nightstand, then curled up in bed to stare at the wall.

Since the day Leah discovered she was pregnant, she’d put Noah’s needs ahead of her
own, but it had been an excruciating journey. Nothing—absolutely nothing on earth—hurt
worse than leaving the maternity ward with empty arms, breasts swollen with milk for
an infant who belonged to someone else. During those early days, she didn’t think
she’d survive it. And just when she’d thought life couldn’t kick her any harder, she’d
hemorrhaged, and the doctors were forced to take her womb.

Still, she’d resisted the screaming maternal urge to reclaim Noah for herself. Jim
and Diane loved her baby more than life, and she knew they’d give him the kind of
stability she simply could not provide. At seventeen, Leah couldn’t even remember
to feed the dog, and Colt had just been arrested again. Placing Noah with the Ackermans
was the most selfless thing she’d ever done.

And the most shameful.

She’d kept Noah’s existence a secret from Colt, afraid he’d insist on letting their
families raise the baby. Her child deserved better than being tossed between three
grandparents. She’d wanted him to have one stable home with a mom and dad who loved
each other. With rules and consistency and maybe even siblings. So, after talking
it over with Daddy, she’d skipped town right before prom to live with Jim and Diane
in Minnesota.

She’d lied—claiming not to know who’d fathered her child—and had hidden like a thief
to make sure Colt couldn’t find out in time to overturn the adoption. She’d insisted
on an open arrangement, and the Ackermans had agreed, understanding that a mother
would always be a mother. She loved them for that. Over the years, she’d borne the
pain in silence, settling for monthly visits with Noah and the occasional video conference
call.

Logically, adoption was the right choice, but that didn’t stop her from lying awake
some nights, too guilty for dreams. What would Colt say if he knew she’d given away
their son?

She didn’t want to think about it.

“Pumpkin?” A knock on her bedroom door brought her back to the present. “Brother Mike’s
gone. Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She rolled out of bed, shook off her funk, and joined Daddy in the hall. “Noah’s
just having a bad day and taking it out on me.”

Daddy gave her arm a consoling pat. “Congrats, hon. That means you’re a real parent.
He wouldn’t push your buttons if he didn’t feel safe around you.”

“I know, but it stings all the same.” She nodded toward the master bedroom. “Come
on. Let’s get you cleaned up, and then maybe you should take a rest.”

After changing the bandages on his chest, she tucked him in like an overgrown child
and lowered the shades. Before shutting his door, she asked, “Hey, is Rachel still
living at home?”

“Far as I know. She took over the hardware store when her daddy passed, so you can
try her there too.”

Leah told him to holler if he needed anything, then headed to the kitchen, where she
stared at the old rotary phone affixed to the wall. She couldn’t put it off any longer—she
had to call Rachel. Not only was it the right thing to do, but she needed a friend
right now. Even a furious friend who’d demand answers Leah wasn’t at liberty to give.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted the phone from its cradle and dialed the number she
knew by heart.

“Hello,” Rachel spat after the third ring. Her phone greeting had always sounded exactly
like this—accusing, as if she’d been on the verge of curing cancer before you’d had
the nerve to interrupt her.

“It’s me,” was all Leah said.

“Tinkerbell.” The smile was thick in Rachel’s voice. “It’s about damn time.”

“Listen up, dipshits,” Colton hollered at his deputies during Friday morning roll
call. Instantly, half a dozen men bolted upright and quit their jabbering. “Stop using
an open pen to tap the LCD panel in your cruisers. You’re leavin’ ballpoint ink on
the touch screens.”

That equipment was expensive as hell, and he’d kissed a lot of ass to get it covered
in the budget. “Next guy I catch marking up his laptop is gonna spend two months detailing
the whole squad.” Pointing at his chief deputy, he added, “I’m lookin’ at you, Horace.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Horace waved him off before scratching his potbelly with a Bic cap.

“And speaking of equipment,” Colt said, “if y’all want new pistols next year, you’d
better start writing tickets.” After court fees, the sheriff’s department only kept
about twenty percent of the total fine, and Glocks weren’t cheap. “Folks are haulin’
ass on Route Fifty. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

His lower back muscles clenched, and he sucked a mouthful of black coffee from his
Styrofoam cup, letting the flavor of roasted beans distract him from the pain.

“Another thing,” he muttered. “When you’re serving warrants, see if you can get a
snitch on whoever’s stealing the AC units on Front Street.” When the economy tanked,
theft skyrocketed, and people were snatching anything that wasn’t nailed down. Crazy
fools had even stolen the brass valves out of the new auto-flushing toilets at Shooters.
“The perp’s probably selling the parts over in Hallover County.”

Horace nodded a little too enthusiastically and checked his watch, no doubt eager
for the free country platter Miss Stacy served him each morning at the diner. “We
done?”

“Not yet.” Colt cleared his throat and pretended to study the warrants tacked to his
clipboard. “Y’all probably heard Leah McMahon’s back in town.”

“Mmm-hmm,” came a few replies.

“She in trouble?” Horace asked.

“Unh-uh.” Not yet, anyway. But last night Colt dreamt she’d been kidnapped by Troy
Aikman. The quick-fingered bastard had thrown Leah over one shoulder, huffed into
the end zone, and then spiked her onto the Astroturf. While the logical side of Colt’s
brain understood the absurdity of it, the echo of her screams still rang in his ears,
and he hadn’t been able to think straight all morning. What if the nightmare was an
omen? Yeah, he knew that sounded crazy too, but he didn’t care. He finally had Leah
back in his life—more or less—and he wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.

“I want you to keep a special watch on her,” he said. “Make sure she’s okay. Be there
if she needs a hand.”

Someone snickered from the other end of the table, and Colt fired a glare that would
freeze the balls off a brass monkey. The laughter died real friggin’ fast, but to
make sure his men knew he wasn’t dicking around, he threatened, “If she so much as
stubs her toe while she’s here, I’ll have your asses.” After a stern glance all around,
he added, “We clear?”

“Yeah, Chief,” they muttered.

He gave the boys a terse reminder about Saturday night’s spaghetti supper at the firehouse
before dismissing them for patrol duty and returning to his office. When he hobbled
down the hallway and shoved open his door, his already lousy morning took a hard left
into Shitville.

“Hey, jerkwad.” Homecoming queen turned manhater, Rachel Landry, occupied his chair,
resting her fugly garden clogs on the corner of his desk. The eight-by-eight office
seemed to shrink in her presence, probably because her bitterness took up all the
room.

Colt glanced over his shoulder toward the reception desk and kneaded his lower back
with one fist. “How’d you get in here?”

“Darla.” She flashed a faux-sweet smile, shaking back her shiny chestnut hair. Rachel
was girl-next-door pretty, but she sucked the fun out of the air like a possessed
leech. “We were co-captains on the varsity cheer squad, remember?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He stalked behind her and jerked back the rolling chair,
forcing her to hop to her feet. And because he knew it would put a burr in her britches,
he said, “I arrested your idiot husband on Monday. He make bail?”

Rachel’s eyes turned to slits, exactly as he’d hoped. “He’s not my husband, and you
damn well know it.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re still married in God’s eyes.” Colt didn’t believe that one
bit, but it was too much fun watching Rachel’s mouth prune up like elephant ass.

“Go to hell, Colton.”

“Sure thing.” He lowered to his chair and groaned with relief. “I’ll say hello to
your mama while I’m there.”

“My mama’s still alive, moron.”

“Exactly.” He pointed one finger at her. “And living with you. If that’s not some
serious hell on earth, I don’t know what is.” Before she had a chance to strike back,
he added, “Do us both a favor and take a hike, Landry.”

“Believe me, I can’t stand sharing oxygen with you either.” To prove her point, she
curled her upper lip and raked a glare over him from Stetson to Laredos. “I think
your chair just gave me herpes. But I’m here for my girl, Tink. You want me gone?”
She held out one hand and waggled her fingers. “Give me her license and papers.”

Tink
. He’d always hated that Leah’s friends had nicknamed her after some dumb fairy, just
because she was tiny and blond. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together knew she
was an angel. “No dice. I can’t release official documents to you—it’s a privacy violation.
Leah’s a big girl. She can come and get ’em herself.”

“Turns out I’m not the only one who hates sharing oxygen with you.”

The words hurt as real as any buckshot, but he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t believe
Leah despised him that much. Sure, she’d hung up on him the last three times he’d
called, but her reaction during his visits—the way her ivory throat pulsed like she’d
just sprinted the twenty-yard dash—said she liked sharing his airspace a little too
much.

Instead of dwelling on that, he asked, “She mention why she ran away?”

Rachel lifted a shoulder as she moved to the opposite side of the desk. “Just the
same bullshit excuse she’s shoveling all over town. But if you ask me, it’s your fault.”

“Me?” Colt couldn’t hide his reaction this time. He drew back, feeling his brows skyrocket
into his scalp.
His
fault? He’d nearly lost his mind when Leah disappeared, and nobody had worked harder
to track her down. Nobody. Not even her own daddy. “I think some of Tommy’s stupid
rubbed off on you.”

“Oh, please. Don’t play innocent. You completely trashed her reputation.”

Colton opened his mouth to defend himself, but bit back his retort. There was no point
in denying he’d blackened Leah’s name. He felt guilty just thinking about it. “True,”
he said. “Maybe that’s part of the reason she left, but not why she stayed gone ten
years without a word for her own daddy.”

The shrew didn’t have an answer for that. For several beats, Rachel sucked on her
top teeth and stared him down, clearly searching for a way to blame it on him but
coming up empty.

“Yeah, I guess not,” she finally admitted.

“You think maybe he hit her?” Colt asked. “I’ve heard those hardcore preacher types
can be—”

“No way,” she interrupted. “Pastor Mac couldn’t punch a clock, let alone his little
girl. You didn’t grow up around here—you never saw the way he doted on her.”

Colt wasn’t convinced. He didn’t need a Texas birth certificate to see that things
between Leah and her father didn’t add up. “Well, something happened between them—something
bigger than a fight about me. You don’t turn your back on family for that long without
a good reason.”

With that, the ceasefire they’d wordlessly negotiated seemed to end as Rachel’s tone
shifted from mean to bitchtastic. “Whatever happened, it’s none of your business.
You did enough damage last time.” She jabbed an index finger at him. “Leave her alone
and call one of your floozies if you want a score. You’ve got a whole army of them.”

Heat crept into Colton’s face, building like steam inside a pressure cooker until
he feared the top of his skull might blow through the ceiling. “I’m not that man anymore,”
he ground out between clenched teeth.

Rachel didn’t know him—never really had—and it infuriated him to think she might drip
that poison in Leah’s ear, filling her mind with tales of Colt’s drinking and whoring
without bothering to mention he’d changed.

His fury must’ve shown, because Rachel quit tapping her nails on his desk and took
a step back. “You know what they say about leopards and spots.”

“Get out,” he ordered in an eerie calm that alarmed even himself. “Before I find a
reason to throw you in the tank with Tommy.”

Rachel cocked her head to the side. He could practically see her wheels turning—calculating
the risk of slipping in one more insult. She wanted the last word so badly her mouth
twitched. But she must have thought better of it, because she turned with a huff,
flinging her hair over one shoulder like a country diva as she charged into the hall.

Colt stared after her a minute to make sure she’d really left before turning his attention
to the stack of citizens’ complaints on his desk. But after mindlessly scanning the
same page three times, he accepted the fact that Rachel had screwed with his focus,
and he shoved the paperwork aside.

Damn it, his goal to win Leah’s trust was hard enough without her friends meddling
in his business. Leah already knew about his crazy teenage years, but she had no idea
how he’d self-destructed after she left. He’d hoped to keep it that way.

He’d done a thorough job of wrecking himself back then. Moonshine, honkytonks, titty
bars—he’d used them all to forget Leah. Or to try. He never could put her sweet face
out of his mind for long, so he’d doubled his efforts, hurtling through life with
his pants around his ankles and a perpetual buzz fogging his brain.

It had never occurred to him before, but what if Leah couldn’t forgive him for all
the women he’d slept with? Because the idea of her making love to another man sent
bile clawing a trail through his esophagus.

He needed to apologize to Leah before Rachel turned her against him for good. Of course,
there was the minor complication of getting Leah to speak to him first.

He pulled her driver’s license from his shirt pocket and gazed into those sad, blue
eyes. “Stubborn girl,” he told her. “Hide all you want, but I’m not gonna quit on
you.”

The direct method had failed, so maybe he needed to change strategies. To get sneaky.
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He was mighty good at sneaky—an
expert, if he did say so himself. While it seemed backward to trick Leah into forgiving
him, he didn’t have much time before her dad got better and she’d leave again. Already,
he’d wasted a week in a misguided attempt to do the right thing.

So now that he’d resolved to trust his more wicked inclinations, how was he going
to get Leah alone? She hardly left her daddy’s house, and there was no way she’d invite
him inside.

He bounced one booted heel against the floor, considering his options. He’d heard
she planned on coming to Trey Lewis’s homecoming potluck tonight. Maybe he should
confront her there. Not the ideal situation, as half the town would turn out, including
Leah’s sisterhood of cockblockers, but Colt would have to make it work. The only question
was how.

Thirty minutes and two broken pencils later, he’d just hatched the beginnings of a
plan when his sister knocked on the door and peeped inside.

“Hey.” Avery bit her bottom lip, apologizing with her eyes. “Sorry to bug you.”

“Don’t be.” Smiling for the first time that day, Colt pushed back from his desk and
waved her inside. “I hardly get to see you now that you’ve taken up with that accountant.”

“Consultant,” she corrected.

“Whatever.” He didn’t give a rip what her boyfriend did for a living. The guy didn’t
make Avery cry, and that’s all that mattered. Colt and his sister weren’t as close
as most fraternal twins, but he still wanted to tear the nads off any bastard who
screwed with her head. And since her “baby daddy” had split for Reno, there’d been
a lot of candidates for Colt’s neutering services.

“Come on in,” he said. “I could use a distraction.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her face brightened. “I’m glad you mentioned that, because,” she tugged
his niece into view, “I need a favor.”

“Hi, Uncle Colt.” Apropos of nothing, Emma stretched both arms above her head and
told him, “This is how ballerinas dance.” She demonstrated by rising to her tiptoes
and staggering into his office like a drunken mule in high heels. Before he had a
chance to open his mouth, she pinched a handful of her bedazzled jeans and said, “These
are really tight, but they’re fashionable. Don’t you think they’re fashionable?”

“Sure, honey,” he told her, giving Avery a questioning look.

“Can she hang out here for a couple of hours?” Avery asked. “I have a doctor’s appointment,
and my sitter canceled.”

Colt glanced at his niece, who’d begun whipping her head back and forth, smacking
herself in the face with her own ponytail. Emma wasn’t a bad kid, but Colt suspected
she was powered by nukes instead of cornflakes.

“Why can’t she go to school?” he asked Avery.

Emma hopped on one foot and interjected, “I’m in kindergarten!”

“Teacher work day,” Avery explained.

“What about Granddaddy?”

“He’s in court.”

Without warning, Emma pitched forward into Colt’s lap, knocking his rolling chair
back a few inches and filling his space with the smell of peanut butter. “What’s that?”
she asked, making a grab for his pistol.

He pushed her little hand aside and told Avery, “Just take her with you. I see kids
at the doctor all the time.”

“I can’t.” Avery backed out of the room and hovered in the doorway, tensing as if
to make a run for it. “It’s the lady doctor.” Then she felt the need to gross him
out with details like, “I’m getting fitted for a new diaphragm. I’ll be naked from
the waist down, spread-eagled with my feet in stirrups, all my business wide open
for everyone to—”