Читать книгу At The Playboy's Command: Millionaire Playboy, Maverick Heiress - Robyn Grady, Brenda Jackson - Страница 14

“We ‘re having a guest again tonight,” Elizabeth announced to Nita as she entered the Milton Ranch kitchen on the way through to her room.

Nita set down her chopping knife and followed Elizabeth down the main hall and up the stairs. “Anyone I know?”

Grinning, Elizabeth shrugged out of her jacket. “Yes, Nita. It’s Daniel Warren.”

“I’m glad to hear you sorted out your differences.”

In her bedroom, Elizabeth reached behind and unzipped her dress, remembering this morning when she’d arrived at his hotel suite door and found the courage to let him know how she’d felt. Now that time spent in Daniel’s arms, in his bed, seemed like some wild fantasy. A dream. She could easily believe she’d imagined the whole amazing interlude except for the tingling afterglow still warming her skin and the fact they were seeing each other again tonight. She wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She had every intention of repeating the experience.

As far as having sorted out their differences …

“Let’s say,” Elizabeth said, slipping off her shoes, “we’ve come to an understanding.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll let my mother know I’ll be over tomorrow instead.”

An earlier conversation flashed to mind and Elizabeth wheeled around from her set of drawers. “Nita, I completely forgot.”

Mrs. Ramirez lived in the next town. The following day was the anniversary of her husband’s death, Nita’s father. Nita liked to keep her mother company and stay overnight.

But Nita was shaking it off. “I’ll go tomorrow. I’ll be there early.”

Elizabeth dug some riding breeches from a drawer. “Don’t you dare change your plans.”

“You’re not going to cook.” Slipping a polishing rag from her pocket, Nita rubbed over the oak dresser. “You don’t want to frighten the boy off. Then again, your mother couldn’t flip an egg. Didn’t stop your dad from proposing.”

Pulling on the breeches, Elizabeth paused to give the older woman a pointed look. “Nita, I’m not marrying Daniel Warren.”

“Did I say that you were?”

Nita concentrated on polishing the same spot on the dresser while Elizabeth, shaking her head fondly, shimmied into a checked shirt then dropped onto the edge of the bed, socks in hand. She was feeling restless, to say the least. The best way to work off energy was to jump in a saddle and charge off for a long, hard ride over the plains.

Her father had taught her to ride. Even how to rope on horseback. Although he’d denied it, Elizabeth knew her dad was disappointed he hadn’t had a son, particularly when she’d begun to show more than an interest in doing her nails and face and hair. Then came her unquenchable curiosity in all things outside of the Lone Star State. Although contained now, that curiosity hadn’t waned.

Nita moved on to polishing the bed headboard. “Why don’t you take him to Claire’s?”

Finished slipping on her socks, Elizabeth pushed to her feet. “Good idea.”

Intimate atmosphere, scrumptious cuisine, Claire’s was the finest restaurant in Royal. This evening the usual Friday night regulars would be there, Chad included.

Elizabeth’s mouth twisted to one side.

Maybe she ought to reconsider defrosting some ribs and firing up the grill.

“Is there anything you need before I head off?” Nita had moved to hang Elizabeth’s jacket.

“I’ll be fine.” She dropped a kiss on Nita’s cheek and gave her arm a squeeze. “Give my best to your mom.”

“Don’t forget that dessert’s in the fridge if Daniel wants a slice.”

“Enough with the organizing.” Elizabeth playfully shepherded Nita out her door. “Go.”

As Nita moved down the hall, Elizabeth thought she heard a car. She moved to a window. No visitors but the flamingos caught her eye. Before heading out for her ride, she’d make sure Chad had organized the payment for the shelter.

She lowered into the chair set before her desk and laptop, brought up her email account and smiled. A message from Chad, brief, formal. He’d transferred the money to the shelter and for the amount she’d requested.

Elizabeth mentally punched the air.

Score one for the kid.

As she shut down the browser, the screen saver appeared, a picture of a hauntingly beautiful Scottish castle she’d visited one vacation. She wanted to see Australia next, but needed more time if she was going to see everything in one trip. She had to experience snorkeling over a coral shelf in the Great Barrier Reef. Climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, overlooking stretched blue silk waters and the enormous sails of the Opera House, was a must. No way would she miss visiting the Red Centre, watching the sun set over massive Uluru and absorbing a masterpiece created from God’s personal palette.

And there was so much more.

The generations-old hall clock struck the first of twelve. Elizabeth blinked back to reality and held the empty feeling that suddenly invaded her stomach.

Her mother had introduced her to the travel bug when they’d suggested boarding school in Europe. Neither of her parents had traveled extensively, but her mother, particularly, had wanted her daughter to grow up with a keen sense of culture and class. Sometimes Elizabeth wondered if they should have done her a favor by keeping her sojourns confined to within Texas, or at least the States. If she’d never known what amazing experiences and sights were out there, she wouldn’t miss it so much now.

Wistful, she pushed back her chair and meandered down the hallway, down the stairs, past that clock, the media room and the library, the area which had previously been her father’s trophy room. Every nook and cranny lived, embedded in her brain, as clearly as the computer had stored that remarkable shot of Scotland. No denying, she felt comfortable here. This was home.

How would she feel, how would she cope, if she ever decided to ignore the clause in her parents’ will and simply fly away?

When Elizabeth arrived at the kitchen, tonight’s dinner with Daniel came to mind again. She wouldn’t try to cook. In France she’d taken lessons in cuisine preparation, but, frankly, while she adored the flavors and textures, whipping up fabulous dishes didn’t come easily. She truly admired people like Nita who effortlessly created mouthwatering meals.

She dialed the Royal Hotel to pass on the change of plans. When the receptionist answered, Elizabeth gave her name and asked to leave a message for Daniel Warren, but at that moment, the receptionist told her that Daniel had walked into the hotel lobby. A few knocking heartbeats later, Elizabeth heard his deep, sexy voice on the line.

“I hope you’re not going to renege on our arrangement tonight,” he said.

His tone was teasing, but also curious. Did he honestly think she’d cancel?

“Nita won’t be home tonight. And I need to be up-front and say my attempt at barbecue leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Can you suggest a place? Snails don’t need to be on the menu.”

She laughed. “We’ll save that for France.”

The sentiment was an innocent one but once it was out, a shard of panic dropped through to her toes. It sounded as if she were inviting him to Paris. With almost all of her two months vacation time this year gone, she couldn’t and wouldn’t. Although the idea certainly had its merits.

She brushed over the gaffe.

“I can recommend Claire’s. It’s an upscale place that serves delicious food.”

“I’ll make the reservation and collect you at seven. And, Elizabeth?”

“Hmm?”

“If you want me to last through dinner, show some mercy and don’t wear those heels.”

* * *

Smiling, Daniel reluctantly hung up from the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter. Crazy but he’d missed it more than he’d realized.

While he’d inspected the club earlier he’d kept his mind on the job, working through new ideas. But now that he was back in this environment, the memories of his and Elizabeth’s time spent filtered back. The scent of her, the silken heart-thumping feel. He’d been with women before—plenty. But there was something truly unique, and inspiring, about Elizabeth Milton. Something he couldn’t get enough of. That what they shared was purely “here and now” made its promise all the more appealing.

Standing at the far end of the polished timber counter, he motioned to catch the receptionist’s eye. He wanted to know if Rand had checked out yet. But it seemed the woman was engaged in what was fast becoming a heated conversation with someone else. He didn’t want to eavesdrop but he couldn’t ignore the spat, particularly when it centered on Abigail Langley and her push for the club’s presidency.

“We women have no right shoving our noses in their business,” the second woman with a helmet of light purple hair was saying.

“You’re entitled to your opinion, Addison.” The receptionist nudged her chin higher. “And I’m entitled to mine. Men don’t have dibs on leadership. Not anymore. There’s a lot of us who feel the same way.”

“You know she wants to tear down the club,” Addison said, “and start again, like suddenly that century-old building’s not worth a dime.”

The receptionist flicked an uncomfortable glance Daniel’s way and lowered her voice. “We have company. This isn’t the place.”

The other woman shifted her focus then her gaze sharpened. “You’re that architect she brought down.” Her eyes narrowed. “We don’t want your kind here. Go home.”

“Boss, everything all right?”

Taken aback, Daniel rotated to find Rand, standing at his back, jaw set, ready to do whatever needed to be done. The woman named Addison looked big enough, and angry enough, to ram a steer.

“Everything’s fine.”

Rand followed as his boss crossed to a settee. “Sounds like the natives are growing restless.”

“Local politics aren’t my concern.”

“Not unless you get lynched.”

“The Civil War’s over, remember?”

“Tell Mrs. Robert E. Lee over there that.”

Daniel stifled a chuckle. Matters surrounding elections often drove high feelings. He wished Abigail all the best with her efforts to infiltrate this previously held man’s domain. Other than that, he wasn’t interested. Wouldn’t get involved.

Daniel nodded at the laptop case Rand carried.

“You heading off?”

Rand nodded. “Sure you want to stay?”

“I have a job to do.”

“And a certain lady to see?”

Daniel opened his mouth to deny it, but what was the point. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m taking Elizabeth Milton to dinner this evening.”

“She must be special.”

“I’m not staying because of Elizabeth.”

“It’s none of my business, boss.”

“Then why are you grinning?”

“Was I grinning?”

He knew damn well he was and, for a moment, Daniel thought Rand had somehow learned about his and Elizabeth’s escapade this morning. But that wasn’t possible, even if Chadwick Tremain obviously had his well-founded suspicions.

Daniel shook his second-in-charge’s hand and moved off toward the lifts. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Rand reminded him. “Be careful not to overstay your welcome.”

When Daniel received a message from Elizabeth saying she’d meet him at the restaurant, he wondered why she wouldn’t want him to collect her.

Where women were concerned he was the old-fashioned type. A man should collect a lady, be on time, open her door. He couldn’t say he’d slept with a woman he’d known less than twenty-four hours before. To balance that anomaly, he couldn’t remember wanting to enjoy that time again so much.

Perhaps she’d planned to already be out and about, he decided, nodding to the doorman as he entered Claire’s Restaurant that evening. And if Elizabeth had her own transportation, was he still on for looking over more of her home later this evening, or was she planning on saying goodnight here?

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck.

After being so forthright this morning, would she play hard to get now?

But then, as the maître d’ inquired about a reservation, Daniel saw her, dressed in a red satin cocktail number, alone in a secluded corner. Her hair was down, flowing around her shoulders and back like a silken river. She sat as poised as a princess, but he knew firsthand she possessed the spirit of a tiger. With his gaze combing her arms and legs, Daniel’s blood stirred and heated. Damn, he’d forgotten just how gorgeous she was.

Noting she hadn’t seen him arrive, he thanked the maître d’ and sauntered over. Perhaps he should wind around and up behind then surprise her by planting a hot kiss on one side of her neck. But could he stop at one?

He set off, weaving around tables dotted with patrons involved in private conversations or perusing menus. He was only a few strides away from reaching her table when he recognized a voice and an unsettling feeling gripped his middle. After this morning, he’d know that drawl anywhere.

Bradford Price.

Daniel glanced to his right. Sure enough, Brad Price was seated with a number of others. His expression was open, confident, unlike earlier today when he’d been agitated about babies and blackmail. Daniel wondered what Brad’s supporters would say if they knew their candidate to head the renowned Cattleman’s Club was likely knee-deep in scandal involving blackmail.

Price’s focus snaked over Daniel’s way. With a steely gaze, Price sent a halfhearted salute. Daniel tipped his head in response. Good luck in trying to keep a secret that big in such a small town, Daniel thought.

When he reached Elizabeth’s table, he found her frowning, her gaze shifting between Price and him.

“You know Bradford?” she asked.

“I know of him.”

Tipping close, Daniel grazed his lips over her temple. His lungs absorbed her sweet scent and recollections of their time together in his suite this morning flooded his senses. It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest they eat later. He was hungry, but he was hungrier for her. Then Brad Price’s cocky laugh filtered across the room. Daniel was brought back and he straightened to his full height.

“This is obviously the place to dine in Royal.” He took his seat. “Should we expect Mr. Tremain, too?”

“Chad?” She wound a wave of blond hair away from her cheek and shrugged. “Possibly.”

“There goes the appetite,” he muttered, shaking out his napkin.

“He’s not that bad.” She settled back in her chair, looking a little smug. “He made that donation today. I’ll be flamingo free come morning.”

“You made the donation, Elizabeth. Don’t forget Tremain works for you. He needs to be reminded of that more often, too.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can leave.”

He took in her stiff expression, her suddenly tight tone, and kicked himself. They were here to enjoy each other’s company, some good food, not to rehash a situation that he had no power over and no right to interfere with.

He cleared his mind.

“No. This is good.” He signaled for the waitress. “Did you drive yourself here?”

“Abigail wanted to meet for a drink and discuss some campaign plans. She dropped by the ranch to pick me up.”

“You should have asked her to join us.”

“She didn’t want to be a fifth wheel. And she said she’d had a big day.” She angled her head and those glossy full lips gleamed in the candlelight. “How did you occupy yourself this afternoon?”

“I dropped by the club again.”

“Any ideas?”

“Nothing that blew me away.”

Unlike that tiff when he returned to the hotel. Despite the cool act in front of Rand, the interaction had surprised and unsettled him. He’d vowed to put it out of his head but now he was interested to know.

“There was a guest today at the hotel’s reception,” he said. “She was very vocal about the fact that nothing about the club should be changed. She made it clear she didn’t want the leadership to pass into the hands of anyone other than a cattleman.”

“A woman said that?” He nodded. Elizabeth’s lips tightened as she cast a glance around the candlelit tables. “There’s all kinds of dynamics involved. That woman’s entitled to her opinion.”

“That’s what the hotel receptionist said. People might like progress,” he grunted, “but tradition dies hard.”

Elizabeth knew that as well as anyone. She was legally chained to it. But he wouldn’t get into that again, either. They were talking about the club and the coming election.

“Between you and me,” he asked in a subdued voice, “do you think Abigail’s wasting her time running? Brad Price seems like a snaky son of a gun.”

“Or, do you want to know if I think she’s wasting your time?”

A corner of Daniel’s mouth curved up. “Either way,” he said, “I’m not sorry I accepted her invitation to come to Royal.”

He was about to tell Elizabeth again how pleased he was that she’d shown up on his doorstep unannounced this morning. That he was beyond happy she’d agreed to see him again tonight. But his cell phone rang before he had the chance.

“Sorry.” He grabbed the phone off his belt and muted the sound.

“Don’t you want to know who it is?”

“Later. Right now I’m having dinner with one of the Lone Star State’s most interesting and, might I say, beautiful women.”

Pretending to be coy, she tucked in her chin. “You might live in New York but your silver tongue is pure South.”

When the waitress arrived, Daniel ordered wine and the specialty of the house—pepper filet mignon with whiskey sauce. Elizabeth went with what she said was her favorite, chicken-fried steak with greens.

His eyebrows shot up. The contradictions kept coming. “From escargot to chicken-fried steak?”

“I grew up on the stuff.” She reached for her water glass. “What do they eat in South Carolina?”

“I remember a lot of shrimp, grits and fried cabbage.” Other memories surfaced—unpleasant ones—and he cleared his throat. “Course, that was a long time ago.”

She nodded slowly, tried to smile.

“Has your dad ever tried to get in contact?” she finally asked.

“Not for a while now.”

Her glistening gaze held for a long moment then fell away. “Strange how things work out. I’d do anything to be able to see my father again. Mom, too.”

Daniel groaned. Life wasn’t always fair. He might not agree with the clause her parents had included in the will but that didn’t mean she didn’t love them and wished they were still around. Years ago he’d wished for miracles, too.

Approving the wine sample the waiter poured, he set down his glass. “You must have a lot of great memories.”

“All around. Every day.” Elbows on table, she rested her chin in the vee of her palms. “My best memories are around family occasions. Thanksgiving. Christmas. They always did something special for birthdays.”

He nodded, letting the waiter know to fill both glasses while mouthwatering aromas and the sound of clinking silverware filtered through the room. “Special like what?”

“For my thirteenth birthday, my father put on our own rodeo at Milton Ranch. There was entertainment and prizes. People came from miles around.”

Bucking broncos, barrel racing, scrambling rodeo clowns. He gave a crooked smile. “Sounds like fun.”

“I had my first kiss that day. A boy I’d crushed on for months. He was leaving with his folks the next week for California.”

“First kiss, huh?” He tried to think but his own was too far back to remember.

“As our lips—or should I say braces—met, he backed me up against the rough fence rails. Unfortunately a whole pile of livestock had been there before us.” Her nose scrunched. “We were wearing boots but still not good.”

He chuckled. “Amazing you weren’t scarred for life.”

“He said he’d write. He did once. Even sent a silver locket in the envelope. Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to Dwight Jackson.”

He couldn’t tell if the faraway look that had come to her eyes was feigned or sincere.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to make me jealous.”

One teasing eyebrow arched. “Are you?”

“To my core.”

Growling playfully, he leaned forward. Their mouths touched over the center of the table and that same delicious got-to-have-you feeling scorched his every nerve ending. The temptation to slide his hand around her nape and deepen the kiss was almost too great to resist. But, given their current environment, unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

Soon their meals arrived. The filet mignon was sublime, Elizabeth enjoyed her chicken-fried steak, and the next hour evaporated as they talked over the candlelight, first about Nita being out of town tonight, then the places they’d visited around the world and spots they still wanted to see.

As they finished the last of the wine, the waitress appeared and Daniel looked around. The restaurant crowd was thinning.

“Can I interest you in dessert?” the waitress asked.

Elizabeth leaned closer to Daniel. “Nita wanted me to let you know that caramel apple cheesecake is still fresh.”

Looking up, he handed the waitress back her menu. “There’s your answer.”

And his. He’d wondered if, after giving so generously of her time this morning, she might make him suffer and string him out. But from the inviting smile simmering in her eyes now, hopefully she’d want him to stay for breakfast, too.

As they moved away from the table, Daniel noticed Bradford Price had left and his mind clicked over. Did Abigail know anything about the hushed conversation he’d overheard? Blackmail was an ugly word that accompanied an ugly deed, particularly when you were standing for office, public or private.

“What’s the story behind Mr. Price?”

“Bradford’s an extremely successful businessman. And playboy. His family’s in banking. They founded most of the artistic foundations in Houston and Dallas. He has a solid reputation but when Abigail first threw her hat into the election ring, he made jokes behind her back. Their rivalry since high school is a bit of a legend in these parts.”

He pulled a pained face. “I do like my anonymous life.”

“I hear you’re nothing less than a celebrity in your profession,” she retorted, grinning. “I’m sure you don’t lead a sheltered life, Daniel.”

“No. But I try not to attract unwanted attention.”

“Trouble sometimes follows when you deal with family, friends, community.”

He looked at her twice and knew, despite her angelic expression, she was having a dig at him. But, right or wrong, he was too old to change. He might live a busy life but it wasn’t cluttered with family baggage. Not anymore.

They drove to Milton Ranch, Daniel tossing around some ideas on the new clubhouse design. He spoke with Elizabeth about the history of architecture in the region, from Spanish Colonial and Mexican Republic through to Modern and beyond.

“Do you think there’s a possibility in reinventing any of those for the design?” she asked.

“In my opinion, I think we need something totally new.” He grinned. “Easier said than done.”

“Perhaps that cheesecake will help.”

Her hand found his thigh and, in that instant, nothing mattered but the wash of warmth the contact inspired. He’d come up with something that would grab the hearts of the Cattleman’s Club members. But tonight he was more interested in Elizabeth’s heart.

When he steered the vehicle up before the house, the arcing beam from headlights let them know they still had company—the flamingos. Daniel dropped the gear into Park.

“Maybe you should drum up an army of gnomes to keep them company.”

“And we could stick plastic primroses in their little pots.” Opening his door, he froze and she laughed. “Daniel, I was joking.”

He accompanied her up the path and waited while she unlocked the tall timber front door, all the while trying to rein in the heightened awareness tugging at his senses … the anticipation of gathering her close and claiming her mouth with his. Rocking back on his heels, he inhaled the perfume of fall wildflowers and told himself to be patient. Good things came to those who waited.

“Why don’t I cut you a slice of cake,” she said, setting her keys on the hall stand, “and we can take a tour.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She walked a couple of feet ahead, showing him the way down a long, high-ceilinged hall decorated in timber panels and the occasional painting depicting the area, glorifying the cowboy legend with lassos and dust flying. Daniel imagined the smell of cattle and dogwood blossoms, the magic of a Texas sunset and stories of cattle rustling told over campfires.

In the kitchen, Elizabeth extracted a cream-topped pie from a monster refrigerator and Daniel’s taste buds tingled. He wished he’d left more room.

“Are you joining me?” he asked.

“If I consumed all the desserts Nita has prepared over the years, I’d be the size of our barn.” Crossing back from a cupboard, plates in hand, she winked. “But tonight’s special.”

Daniel wet his lips. Yes, it is.

When the pie was cut and waiting in individual bowls, Elizabeth slapped a spoon in his palm and, with a lift of her chin, indicated he should follow. Side by side, sampling their first creamy taste of pie, they traversed that hall again, this time ducking into a massive double-story ceilinged room, housing studded maroon leather chairs and walls of books. With the lingering aroma of pipe smoke hiding behind heavy baroque curtains, Daniel surveyed the sea of polished timber floor, numerous ornate architraves and a padded window seat, which looked out over green patches of lawn. He crossed to a section of old spines and eased out one musty book.

“Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche.” Impressed, he set down his bowl and carefully opened the hardback cover. “Your father enjoyed a little light reading.”

“That book belonged to my mother. Dad was more a Billy the Kid fan.”

He shot her a look. “Your mother read this?”

“Sure. When I was old enough she passed it on to me.” Her eyes lit. “Have you read Nietzsche?”

Heavy-duty philosophy?

“My reading material comprises titles like Architectural Digest.” Sauntering close again, he sent her an intrigued grin. “Just how many layers do you have?”

“You mean in general,” she said as she dropped a look down over her red silk dress, “or just tonight?” She slid a spoonful of pie into her mouth and sashayed out the room.

After loosening his tie, Daniel collected his bowl and followed.

“This is the nine-ball room,” she said, a few moments later.

Daniel examined the full-size table, the timber-and-steel-studded bar and, most impressive, a ceiling fresco portraying a stampede of wild horses. Nice.

Next she introduced him to the sitting room, the media room, an amazing A-framed undercover outdoor area … in all he guessed around 20,000 square feet of luxury. Every room boasted stylish symmetry that would be bathed in natural light during the day, some with crossbeam ceilings and murals. Numerous wood-burning fireplaces, granite floors in wet areas … Daniel had a better idea of why Mr. Milton wanted to keep it in the family.

But on a professional note, nothing jumped out and said, with regard to the Cattleman’s Club, Hey, run with this!

They’d climbed an elegant staircase to the second story, where the majority of bedrooms where located, he presumed, thumbing a smear of cream from his lower lip into his mouth. As if reading his mind, she crossed through an opened double doorway, clicked on some muted down-lights and moved into a room decorated completely in snow-white and the exact green of her eyes.

“Now this is my suite. Here’s the fireplace,” Elizabeth said, gliding with catlike grace over the spongy carpet. “My private retreat.” She indicated a silk-covered chaise, facing a window that overlooked the lit waters of an Olympic-size swimming pool. “That way to the attached bath,” she said, and gestured to the left, “and this is where I like to do the majority of my sleeping.”

In a sensual, fluid move, she lowered herself onto the edge of a king-size bed, which was covered with a plump white duvet.

His pulse booming, he started forward as she slipped off her sexy red heels. When he joined her, she was reaching behind, removing the heavy ruby necklace that graced the slim column of her throat. An heirloom, perhaps.

“And that concludes the tour,” she told him, setting the necklace on the duvet and curling her legs up to one side. Her gaze meshed with his, she languidly rolled back and sank into airy white. “I think you’ve seen enough tonight.”

His gaze devoured her lips. “Not nearly enough.”

He slid off his tie and released his belt, all the while drinking in the alluring sight splayed out before him. When she stretched out, telling him without words to hurry and join her, he finished unbuttoning his shirt but then dropped to his knees. Collecting her foot, he brushed his lips up and down the bare instep. Her toenails were painted to match her dress. Was her lingerie the same shade? A rich, sexy red.

His palms slid up her smooth shins, knees, before he dropped a slow, moist kiss on her thigh. Her head rolling to one side, she sighed as his fingers filed up beneath her dress and twined around thin silk bands sitting high on each hip. When she arched, helping, he peeled the scrap of fabric down and off her legs. He wound out of his shirt then began a mouth-to-skin glide up the inside of one leg until he reached the point where he was gripping red satin and dragging it higher.

The tip of his tongue slid up between her thighs, delaying long enough to circle and tease her swollen nub, which made the cradle of her hips twist, dip and lift. After a gentle nip, he moved to capture her hem and ease the dress up over her waist, her breasts. When she lay naked on the bed beneath him, her hair fanned out and eyes heavy with want, he shifted back to remove his trousers.

Daniel had seen Elizabeth without clothes this morning, but as he gazed on in the soft light now her curves sent his erection into a near spasm. Controlling the urge to drive her thighs apart and take her quickly, he flipped back the duvet and joined her as she wiggled up then under the cover.

Lying front to front, the tips of her breasts teasing his chest, she coiled an arm around his neck and asked, “Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?”

He nipped her lower lip and groaned as a spike of pleasure speared through him. “Only here with you.”

Humming against his lips, she murmured, “Mr. Warren, you read my mind.”

He made love with an agonizing lack of speed, firstly tasting the line of her collarbone while lightly pinching and rolling the tips of each breast until she begged him to take her into his mouth. As he lowered and captured one rosy tip, Daniel recalled this morning—forbidden, fun and over way too fast. Tonight’s union would be about exploring places Elizabeth had never been before, had never known existed. He planned to take them both to heights filled only with bone-melting sensation and incandescent light.

He moved higher, his mouth searching out hers again, probing and teasing while his hips against hers mimicked the slow, stoking rhythm. When her lips left off savoring his and began to trail down his chin, over the pulse beating wildly in his throat, Daniel lay back, resting a forearm over his eyes and warning himself to hang on.

She slid farther down, all the way, until she reached his hard, ready length. As her mouth slipped over the head of his erection and her tongue swirled a lazy loop again and again, he groaned and, stemming the thundering force shooting through his veins, made a this-is-way-too-good fist.

Cupping him with one hand, dragging and squeezing with the other, she accepted more and more of him. The suction growing, his energy swelling, Daniel held tight every muscle as he moved in time and stroked her hair. At the same moment perspiration broke on his forehead, one dainty hand splayed up over his quivering belly, driving higher to rub one side of his chest then the other. Each time her palm grazed a nipple, a line directly connected to his manhood vibrated then tugged. When her teeth got involved, grazing skillfully up and down, on the brink, Daniel grabbed her shoulders and hauled her up.

Surprised, she threw hair back from her face. “I wasn’t finished.”

“I nearly was.”

A wicked gleam swam up in her eyes and she shifted until she straddled him, a knee on either side of his hips, her parted thighs hovering over his engorged glistening length. Setting her palms side by side on his ribs, she tipped forward and stole a heart-hammering kiss that set a sky of fireworks shooting off in his head.

With her breasts brushing his chest, she kissed him until he didn’t know which way was up. With each passing second he only knew he wanted to feel her velvety warmth wrapped moist and snug around him.

“Maybe we should think about a condom,” she said as the kiss slowly broke.

He’d planned to enjoy foreplay for a while longer but with her mouth working down his throat again and his fuse near ready to blow, he’d go with her “protection now” plan.

Stretching, he lifted the package he’d set earlier on the bedside table. He ripped the wrapping with his teeth and rolled the condom on with Elizabeth on her knees, hovering like a vision above him. His hand was barely away before she took his sheathed length and, maneuvering her hips, gradually eased down and over him.

Sucking in a breath, Daniel grabbed her rump and held her still. A line of sweat slid from his temple as that internal time bomb ticked and pulsed loud and hard. Eyes squeezed shut, he groaned out a short laugh.

“You want to embarrass me?” Make me finish too fast.

“I want to enjoy you. I want you to enjoy me.” With his hands on her rear, she began to move. “You have more condoms, don’t you?”

Eyes still closed, he smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

Her palm slid over his wet forehead as her hips rotated in a slow, sensual circle and, for the first time in living history, Daniel let the bedroom reins slip from his grasp. He’d been sexually physical with the opposite sex in all the best ways. But gazing up into Elizabeth’s dreamy face now, something fundamental shifted inside of him. And as the burn of imminent release turned from red to glowing white hot, Daniel was helpless to deny it.

She was unlike anyone he’d ever been with before. Unlike anyone he’d ever met. As his touch trailed up her slender waist and he weighed the perfect curve of each breast, Daniel closed his eyes again and concentrated on the pure heaven about to break.

Thank goodness they had all night.

A noise in the late-night hours woke Daniel from a deep sleep. Blinking into the misty light, he wondered where he was. It came back not in a blinding flash so much as a welcome warm rush. With her perfumed scents drifting over him, he moved carefully onto his side. Elizabeth lay nestled close, curled up, her hands a pillow beneath her cheek.

That warmth stirred and became something deeper and hotter in his chest. He felt the smile on his face as he reached to gently touch her hair, fair and silver threads splayed out in the lifting shadows.

And then he heard the noise again and an unsettling feeling gripped him. His senses shifted to concentrate. When another scuff sounded, directly below at the front door, he sat bolt upright.

Elizabeth made a sleepy, humming sound and shifted her arms to stretch above her head. Her eyelids fluttered, her gaze found his then her drowsy smile dawned in the dark. Her voice was a sultry drawl that sent his sexual antennae aquiver.

“Hey,” she murmured, “I remember you.”

He wanted to wrap her up and kiss the inviting words right out of her mouth, but he couldn’t dismiss those noises. It was probably a coyote bumping around, but Daniel couldn’t stop a snapshot of Bradford Price from creeping into his brain.

Blackmail … Baby …

He couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling. That noise again.

Heart lurching, he threw off the covers then heard Elizabeth shift, sit up.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Just outside.” On his feet, Daniel found his trousers. He wouldn’t bother with the shirt.

“What’s outside?”

He held up a warning hand. “Just stay put.”

“Daniel, what is it?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.” He came back to dot a kiss on her crown. “I want to make sure.”

“Well, you’re not going alone.”

“For God’s sake, Beth, do as I say.”

Daniel realized he’d used the shorter, more familiar derivative of her name at the same time she pressed her lips together and threw back the cover, too.

“No.”

He wanted to stride off ahead, but, man or woman, this was her property. He couldn’t stop her, unless he manacled her to the bed. Hell, that might not even hold her.

On the way out, she grabbed a silk robe off the chaise and, with her lashing the tie, they double-timed it down the stairs. At the bottom, in the dark, she caught his shoulder.

“I’ll get a rifle,” she whispered.

Daniel recoiled. Not if he could help it. He didn’t want a potentially bad situation made worse. And he knew from experience, where guns were involved, things could always get worse.

He shooed her around and close behind. “Just don’t go doing anything brave.”

Gingerly, he unlocked the door and, as the cool air brushed his skin, he cast a wary glance around the quiet grounds. All seemed routine. The night was tranquil. The low lawn lights shone across strips of grounds. And still, unease rippled up his spine.

Then, way off down the driveway, an engine ignited. A quick flash of headlights as the vehicle hit the main road and then the rumble faded into the distance. Cursing, Daniel thumped the doorjamb. He’d known it wasn’t his imagination.

Elizabeth stepped forward and nudged his ribs. “Told you there was nothing to go get all edgy about.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“You do realize trespassers just left your property, right?”

Maybe someone who was aware of her sympathies with Abigail’s camp and her Yankee architect. Maybe someone who, under the cloak of night, wanted to show Elizabeth she was backing the wrong side.

But Elizabeth only laughed. “They weren’t trespassers, silly. Don’t you see something missing?”

Daniel had taken a breath, ready to tell her to go back inside so he could call the sheriff, when the truth of what she’d said slapped him upside the head. Turning around, he examined the lawn and sank into himself. Of course, that’s what didn’t fit. Those blasted flamingos were gone.

Thank God. And for more than one reason.

Nonetheless, he wouldn’t shake the feeling that something big, bad and unlawful was going down in Royal. Something gritty he wanted nothing to do with. Elizabeth, either.

While he scowled around the parameters, she threaded an arm through his and gave it a tug. “C’mon, cowboy. Let’s go inside.”

Giving in, he turned, but stopped again when his bare foot met with an object that shouldn’t have been there. Frowning, he crouched and collected an envelope. On the front was handwritten scrawl.

To Elizabeth Milton.

Grunting, he flipped it over. “Appears someone’s desperate to get in touch.”

Elizabeth slipped the envelope from his hand, ripping open the seal as they moved into the house. After flicking on some lights, she slid a single sheet out. She read to herself, every so often nodding solemnly.

As the seconds ticked by, Daniel craned to have a look.

“Who’s it from?”

She waved the letter as if it were nothing more than a local flyer. “A friend.”

“What friend?” he demanded, following as she flicked on more lights and headed down the hall.

“I, er, don’t exactly know.”

Daniel’s hackles went up. If she was in trouble, he wanted to know. And he wanted to know now.

Stopping in the kitchen, he set his fists low on his hips. “I think you’d better tell me.”

At the granite island counter, she sized him up as if suddenly, after spending hours of giving herself so completely, she wasn’t so sure she could trust him. But then she exhaled. Her slender shoulders in the black silk robe slumped and, setting the letter down, she grabbed the empty coffeepot.

“Someone needs help.”

His hands lowered. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Who? What kind of help?”

“A woman and her children.” She rinsed the pot and set it back on its perch. “She’s from the Midwest. Apparently when her family lost everything in a tornado, her husband lost it, as well. Seems he became physically violent. It was getting worse.”

“What’s all that got to do with you?”

“That woman and her children escaped and came down here to be near her sister, who’s down on her luck at the moment, too. The future looks uncertain, particularly if the husband decides to run her through some rings and take her to court for custody.” Scooping out coffee grinds, her voice lowered. “Or decides to take the law into his own hands.”

Daniel fought the chill scuttling down his backbone. He made it his business not to think too closely on the subject of broken homes. God knows, there were a lot of them. But this minute, seeing the concern lining Elizabeth’s face, it wasn’t so easy to pull down his shutter and walk away. Moving around the island to join her, he softened his tone.

“That doesn’t explain why you received a letter in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not common knowledge.” She eyed him sternly. “Promise now to not say a word.” He swept a finger twice over his heart. “Sometimes when this kind of situation seeps into Royal, the information reaches certain people through the shelter. People who like to give well-deserving individuals a new start, particularly children.”

“Certain people being you?”

Setting her jaw, she raised her chin. “I give them some cash, a car, help find them a job if I can.” She flicked the percolator on. “I don’t advertise.”

Daniel lowered his weight onto the nearest kitchen stool and absorbed the new twist. In this town, secrets went deep and the surprises kept coming. But something didn’t add up.

“Your generosity must have limits, particular criteria.” He thought she had restraints. “Do you run this by Tremain?”

“He doesn’t approve. But he knows it’s one of the things that keeps me here.” Setting two mugs on the counter, she looked at him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the ranch. But this more than compensates for …”

Her words trailed off.

“For the fact you’re caged in five sixths of the year,” he finished for her, for the first time truly feeling the ramifications of that sacrifice.

“If I left, I wouldn’t lose absolutely everything. I’d still have a trust, but I couldn’t help others to the extent I do now.”

His heart in his throat, he reached to hold her chin between his thumb and finger then combed the silken hair fallen over one cheek. When her eyes met his he felt his chest swell.

“You’re an exceptional woman, you know that?”

Although a thankful smile curved her lips, she denied it. “I’m lucky. I came from a happy home. But there are some who need help to fill in some losses. Mend some wounds. I think of the children,” she told him, her voice strong but also filled with compassion. “They need a home. A sense of belonging. It’d be easy, I imagine, to start to run and keep running from a whole pile of things.”

The longer he looked at her, the broader his smile grew. Alongside this petite woman, he suddenly felt small.

“You must’ve been born with a special knack.”

“What’s that?”

“To help people see that there’s more.” His lips brushed her forehead and his throat grew tight.

Help me to see, even a glimpse …

He cupped her nape and kissed her tenderly, wanting to both convey and absorb what he was feeling. When his lips gradually left hers, he drew in a breath and peered into her vulnerable gaze.

“Do you have any time left this year?”

“Of the two months?”

He nodded.

“Three days.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “We can see, and do, a lot in three days.”

Then he swept her up and—with her arms around his neck, her head against his shoulder—carried her back upstairs.