To Wed and Protect (7 page)

He drank in the sight of her in the few seconds he had before she pulled down the spread and disappeared beneath the sheets on the bed.

“Do you always keep your women waiting?”

Her husky voice broke his inertia, and he ripped his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. He felt as if his fingers had all turned to thumbs as he worked the buttons on his fly. Before he allowed his jeans to fall on the floor, he took out his wallet, opened it and withdrew a foil package.

When he was naked, he hesitated at the edge of the bed. He knew they had stirred up powerful emotions as they'd talked of their pasts, and he wanted to give her a chance to change her mind, didn't want to in any way be accused of taking advantage of her vulnerability.

“Luke, I promise no recriminations, no expectations.”

Her words removed the last barrier between Luke and his desire for her. He placed the foil package on the nightstand, then slid beneath the sheets and reached out to her.

She came willingly to meet him, her body pressing against his as their lips sought each other in frenzied need. Luke had thought he'd spent the last week quietly seducing her, but he realized she'd been doing some seducing of her own. She'd stoked in him a fire of desire he'd never felt before.

When he finally broke the kiss, he moved his lips down her jawline into the hollow of her throat. She
wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him more tightly against her.

His hands crept up to cup her breasts. Despite the silky material of her bra, he could feel her taut nipples beneath his fingertips. He raked his thumb across the tips and reveled at the sweet moan that escaped her.

It took only moments for him to grow frustrated by the material that kept their bodies separate. With a groan, he reached behind her and unfastened her bra, then swept his hands downward to steal away her panties.

She aided him in his efforts, shrugging the bra from her shoulders and raising her hips, then kicking off the lacy panties.

He knew he wouldn't be able to last too long, that the moment he entered her all control would be lost. And before that happened, he wanted to make love to her, to taste her sweet skin, to touch her in ways that made her wild with wanting him.

And that's exactly what he did. With the golden shine of sunlight slanting into the window, he threw back the sheets and made love to her.

He loved the scent of her, the taste of her skin and the way she responded to each touch, every caress. She was an active lover, matching him touch for touch, kiss for kiss, caress for caress.

Although he would have loved to make love to her throughout the morning hours, all too quickly he felt himself reaching the point of no return.

“Luke,” she said, her voice taut with need. “Please…I want you.”

That's all he needed to hear. He picked up the foil
package, surprised when she took it from him. Her eyes glittered with anticipation as she tore open the foil and removed the protective sheath.

Her fingers were hot and radiated urgency as she rolled the condom onto his throbbing member. Immediately, he got on top of her and she parted her legs to welcome him. With one smooth motion he entered her, sliding into her tight warmth as a groan of intense pleasure escaped him.

Her fingers dug into his back as he remained motionless, overwhelmed by sensation and momentarily afraid to move. He drew several deep breaths, fighting for control, then slowly, almost imperceptibly began to move his hips against hers in the age-old rhythm of need.

He meant it to be slow and easy, building to a shattering conclusion. But it was impossible to go slow and easy. The sensations that rippled through him demanded faster…frenzied. And Abby demanded it, as well, setting the pace with hip thrusts that took him higher and higher.

It wasn't until she stiffened and cried out in splendor that he allowed himself the final release. Wave after wave of pleasure swept over him until he was gasping and spent.

He rolled to her side, pulled her against him and waited for their breathing to return to normal. She curled against him, and he was vaguely aware of how well their bodies fit together. With her head on his shoulder, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

He stroked a hand through her hair, marveling that
it was, indeed, just as soft and silky as he'd imagined. “You okay?” he asked softly.

“At the moment I'm better than okay. I feel simply marvelous.”

“That's because I'm a marvelous lover,” he teased.

“Hadn't I mentioned that before?”

She laughed. “I believe you might have mentioned it before. I guess I can tell Stephanie that your legendary charm overwhelmed me,” she said lightly.

He grinned. “I think I was the one that was overwhelmed by your considerable charm. Besides, one single occurrence does not a success make,” he countered.

For a long moment they remained quiet, neither seemingly eager to break their embrace. “I'm sorry about your father being so mean,” she finally said.

He leaned on one elbow and looked at her. The sunlight painted her face in golden tones, making her eyes appear a striking green. “And I'm sorry about your sister.” He gazed at her curiously. “What about your parents? Were they good ones?”

Her lips curved into a smile that shot a new wave of desire through him. “They were the best. They were kind and loving and wonderfully supportive.” A tiny frown creased the center of her forehead. “What about your mother? You've never mentioned her.”

“She died giving birth to Johnna. I was only a year old at the time, so I never really knew her.”

She reached up and placed her palm against his cheek. “I wish you would have had the kind of parents I had.”

“Are they still around?”

A dark shadow stole the sparkle of her eyes. “No. They died four years ago in a car accident. I'm just grateful they weren't around to know about Loretta. I think her death would have killed them.” The shadow disappeared. “And now we'd better get out of this bed.”

In one fluid movement, she left his arms and rolled out of bed. He sat up and watched as she grabbed her bra and panties then disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

He remained in the bed as he heard the sound of a shower starting, deciding that when she finished, he'd jump in for a quick cleanup.

His body still retained her fragrance, a scent that would be distracting as he worked the remainder of the afternoon. Even now, as he breathed deeply, he felt a renewed stir of desire for her.

He frowned, not particularly pleased to find himself wanting her again so quickly, so strongly. It also bothered him that he had confided so much of his past to her. He'd never, ever told anyone about singing for his father and wetting his pants. Why on earth had he told her of that particular little embarrassing incident?

He was still ruminating over this when she entered the bedroom clad in a bathrobe. “Abby…about what just happened…” he began, feeling the need to somehow insert a little distance between them.

She held up her hand to silence him. “I told you, Luke. No recriminations and no expectations. What happened, happened. It's over, it's done.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at him somberly. “When Loretta was murdered, I was en
gaged to a man who professed to love children and value family above all else. When he realized I was taking on two scarred, frightened children, I expected him to be by my side, but he ran for the hills. When my sister left her husband, I thought that finally she was going to get a chance to live a happy, normal life, but I was wrong.”

She got up from the edge of the bed and grabbed her jeans and her T-shirt. “I've learned the hard way to expect nothing from life or from people. I take it one day at a time.” She offered him a strained smile. “Don't worry, Luke. As far as I'm concerned, we can forget this happened at all. The bathroom is all yours. I'll finish dressing in one of the kids' rooms.” With these words she left the bedroom.

Luke stared after her, oddly disturbed by her words, and bothered that her words had disturbed him.

A
bby was almost grateful the next morning when Luke called her and said he wouldn't be able to work at her place that day.

She needed the day without his magnetic presence to get the ground firmly beneath her feet and deal with the embarrassment the events of the day before had created in her.

She had probably been the easiest seduction the man had ever successfully completed. She'd practically thrown herself at him, insisting that he make love to her. Her cheeks burned at the memory of how forward she'd been and how glorious being in his arms had felt.

She'd known from the moment she'd met Luke, when he'd teased her with those sooty eyes of his, that he would be a magnificent lover, and she hadn't been wrong.

He'd been gentle yet masterful, sweeping her into the heights of delight with hungry kisses and hot caresses. When his dark eyes had gazed at her, he'd made her feel more beautiful and more desirable than anyone had ever made her feel.

With utter mastery and confidence, he'd known just where to touch, just how to kiss to produce a fiery hunger for him inside her.

She spent the entire day trying to forget the power of his kisses, the warm comfort of his arms, the utter splendor of his naked body against hers.

He called the next morning and told her once again that he had other business that wouldn't allow him to get to her place that day. She wondered if perhaps he was trying to avoid her, and that only increased her embarrassment over the intimacy that had occurred between them.

It was early Thursday morning, and she was standing at the edge of the road with the children waiting for the school bus, when she saw Luke's familiar black pickup heading in their direction.

She couldn't help the small lurch of her heart as he parked the truck and stepped out. He was so darned sexy in his tight, worn jeans and the white T-shirt that pulled provocatively across the width of his chest.

His thick, dark hair gleamed in the sun and despite herself her gaze swept across his chest to his bulging biceps, and she remembered how good it had felt to lay in his strong arms.

He waved but didn't approach. Instead he walked to the back of the truck and unloaded several pieces of lumber.

“What's he doing now?” Jason asked, his dark eyes focused on Luke.

“He's going to finish building us a nice, new porch,” Abby explained.

Jason eyed her somberly, a tiny frown on his forehead. “When I'm in school, is he nice to you?”

Abby saw the worry in his eyes and leaned down to draw his little body closer to hers. “He's very nice.” Jessica stepped closer, as if she, too, momentarily needed the warmth of Abby's arms around her.

“There are good men and there are bad men,” she said to them. “Luke is a good man. He's making our house nice, and he's nice to me. He makes me smile.”

“If he's mean to you, I'll kick him,” Jason exclaimed with a burst of little-boy bravado.

“You know that kicking somebody is unacceptable,” Abby chided softly. “Besides, Luke would never do anything to hurt me. He's a nice man.”

At that moment the school bus lumbered into view. She gave each child a hug. “Now, you have a great day at school and I'll see you later this afternoon. We're safe here, and nobody is going to hurt me or either of you.”

She saw them safely on the bus, then as the big yellow vehicle pulled away, she waved to them until they were out of sight.

Jason's concern for her safety was not surprising, but it was heartbreaking nevertheless. A six-year-old boy should never have to worry about the physical safety of an adult.

Surely they were all safe. It had been two months since the debacle of a trial, two months in which she'd
heard no word from Justin Cahill, the man who'd murdered her sister and who was the father of the children.

As she turned to walk toward the house, she steeled herself for interacting with the man she'd made love to three days before.

“Morning,” he said as he opened his toolbox and began to lay out what he'd need to begin work. “I see you got the munchkins off okay.”

She nodded, aware of the uncomfortable tension that thickened the air between them. “Can I get you anything before you get started? A cup of coffee or something?”

“No, I'm fine,” he replied briskly. “This is going to take a lot of work so I'd better get right to it.”

She hadn't realized how much she'd enjoyed his easy company or his lighthearted banter until now with its conspicuous absence. “Okay, just let me know if you need anything,” she replied then went into the house.

It's better this way,
she told herself as she went into Jason's room to begin the morning task of making beds. A business relationship was all she'd ever wanted from Luke Delaney to begin with, and things had just careened out of control the afternoon they'd made love.

It was obvious from his distance that he was done with her, had accomplished his mission, and that was fine with her. He'd given her an afternoon of sweet warmth, of intense pleasure, and all she expected from him now was carpentry work.

She spent the morning on chores, making beds and picking up clutter the children had left around the
house. She consciously tried to stay away from the front of the house where she could hear the sounds of a man at work. She fought the desire to stand at the front window and watch him work, to hide behind the curtains and drink her fill of him.

However, at noon, with her stomach growling for lunch, she left the house by the back door and walked around front to see if Luke wanted to join her for lunch.

He was nowhere in sight, and his truck was gone. Apparently he wasn't interested in eating lunch with her. She fixed herself a sandwich, knowing he'd be back.

She ate the sandwich then decided to unpack the last two boxes that were in her bedroom. She'd put off unpacking them because she knew the boxes contained mostly items that had belonged to Loretta.

A half an hour later she sat on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by an array of items that held no real monetary value but things she'd thought the children might want someday.

Each item Abby pulled out brought with it a pang of grief and yet a wealth of happy memories. There were several photographs of Abby and Loretta together as children and a couple of them as teenagers. There was a book Loretta had loved to read aloud to the younger Abby. Knickknacks, a stuffed bunny missing its nose—the box was filled with treasures. There was even a guitar with broken strings.

“Abby?”

She jumped at the sound of Luke's deep voice and looked up to see him standing hesitantly in the bed
room doorway. “Sorry, I knocked but apparently you didn't hear me.” He stepped into the room, curiosity lighting his eyes. “Hey, where did you get the guitar?” He stepped closer as she held it out to him.

“It was my sister's,” she explained as he took it from her and examined it. “Loretta was always looking for ways to expand her horizons, better herself and her education.” She gestured to a stack of cassette tapes nearby. “She learned French in ten easy sessions, painted an oil painting with videotape instructions. At one time or another she took guitar lessons, ballet classes and played the drums.”

“Sounds like a fun person,” Luke said softly.

Abby offered him a full smile. “She was the best. She had a lust for living that was enviable. I thought maybe Jason or Jessica might decide to play the guitar so I packed it along with this other stuff to bring with us.”

“They won't be able to play it without strings.” He handed the guitar to her, the expression in his eyes inscrutable. “George Marley at the general store always orders strings for me. I could pick some up and string it for you.”

“Thanks, I'd appreciate it.” She got up off the floor, suddenly far too aware of the two of them alone in her bedroom, the place of their recent indiscretion.

“Were you looking for me for something?” she asked, then felt the heat of a blush sweep over her cheeks as his gaze flickered to the bed, then quickly back to her.

“I could use your help outside for a few minutes. I need another hand, that is if you don't mind helping.”

“Not at all.” She hated the stiff formality between
them, the uncomfortable tension that filled the air, but was too embarrassed to broach the subject in order to break the ice.

She followed him outside, and with him showing her what to do, helped by balancing two two-by-eights in place so he could nail the support beams.

“Sorry I couldn't make it the last couple of days,” he said as he grabbed a hammer. He hammered in a nail. “We had a fence go completely down at the ranch, and it required immediate attention.”

“You don't have to apologize,” she replied. “Besides, it really worked out well because yesterday I kept the kids out of school and drove into Tucson for a counseling appointment.”

“How did it go?”

She shot him a quick smile. “I don't know how much help one session offered the kids, but it certainly helped me just knowing we've started getting them some help.”

He hammered in another nail, then looked at her. “I told you before, they're lucky to have you on their side.”

“It's the least I can do for Loretta. She and I were so close, and she was my strength when our parents died. I'm just giving back to her kids all the love she gave to me when she was alive.”

He nodded and worked for a few minutes in silence, a frown creasing his forehead. She could smell him, the scent that had by now become familiar. It was the scent of maleness and bright sunshine and a faint wisp of woodsy cologne.

Instantly it brought to mind the sensual pleasure of
their morning spent in her bed. Not only had his fragrance wrapped around her, but his body had, as well, warming her from the outside in.

“Do the kids like to ride?”

“Ride?” She stared at him blankly as she consciously worked to dispel the images of making love to him.

“Horses?”

“I don't think either of them have ever been on a horse,” Abby replied.

“What about you? You like to ride?” For the first time since he'd arrived, she was grateful to feel the tension between them ebbing somewhat.

“I used to love to ride, but I haven't since I was a kid.”

“If you want, I could set it up so you and the kids could take a trail ride over at the ranch some time. I've never met a kid who didn't want to ride a horse.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him warmly. “That would really be nice.”

“It's no big deal. We've got plenty of horses that are real sweet-tempered for kids.” He hammered another nail. “Okay, you can let go. I can handle it from here.”

She nodded and turned to hurry into the house, away from him. She knew that making love to him three days earlier had been a mistake. What she couldn't understand was why on earth she was thinking of how nice it would be to repeat the error of her ways.

 

The moment Luke had seen Abby's smile, he'd wondered why he had stayed away from her for the
past couple of days.

When he'd left after making love to her, he'd felt off balance, out of sorts. Although she had said all the words about no expectations he'd wanted to hear after he'd made love to her, something had bothered him.

He'd figured it out that evening as he'd nursed a soft drink at the Honky Tonk. It wasn't the lovemaking that had bothered him. That had been magnificent. It had been the emotional intimacy they'd shared just prior to falling into bed that had disturbed him.

Never before had he given quite so much of himself to a woman. Telling her about the first time he'd sung for his father, sharing with her the enormous emotional turmoil the incident had created, had shocked him and left him feeling oddly vulnerable.

Luke didn't like feeling vulnerable. He'd been vulnerable as a kid and had vowed he'd never feel that way again.

And so he'd distanced himself, taking the last couple of days to find his balance once again. He'd put in his hours at the ranch for the week and had finished the rocking chair for Rita Sue Ellenbee to sell on consignment in her craft store. He had kept himself busy and tried to keep his mind off Abigail Graham.

He straightened and swiped a hand across his brow as the school bus pulled up and Jason and Jessica got off. Jessica raced directly into the house, but Jason walked over to Luke.

He peered into Luke's toolbox with interest. “What's that?” he asked, pointing to a blue-handled Sheetrock knife.

“It's for cutting Sheetrock,” Luke explained.

Jason tilted his head to one side and moved closer to Luke, bringing with him that special scent of boyhood. It was the smell of sweaty hair and sunshine, an earthiness that wasn't unpleasant. “What's Sheetrock?” he asked.

Luke thought of what Abby had shared with him about the horror the kids had been through, and despite his reluctance, he felt a certain kinship with the little boy.

Luke hadn't had an Abby to take control and make things right. He hadn't had an Abby to provide stability and love in his childhood. Admiration for the woman who had taken in the two kids fluttered through him.

“Sheetrock is the stuff that makes the walls in a house,” he said to Jason.

“Why would you want to cut the walls?” Jason asked.

“Sometimes you get a hole in a wall accidentally and you use the knife to cut a new piece to fit into the hole,” Luke said.

Jason eyed him soberly. “My mom says you're a good man, that you wouldn't ever hurt her.”

Compassion swept through Luke. “I always try not to hurt anyone,” he replied. He crouched so he was eye to eye with the boy. “And I promise you I'll never, ever hurt your mom.”

Jason held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded as if satisfied. “But, if you ever do hurt her, I'm gonna kick you really hard.”