CHAPTER FOUR
“I t’s official,” Venitia announced, dropping a basket of laundry onto the top of the dryer as Brandon hung his jacket on a peg near the back door of the closed-in porch.
“What?” He braced himself. His mother was always pulling something. But at least she was sober as she turned on the washing machine; the roar of water filled the small room.
Grinning widely, she waggled her fingers in front of her son’s face, and he noticed the ring, a gold band with a tiny diamond sparkling merrily on the fourth finger of her left hand. “Al and I are going to get married.”
He’d been expecting it, of course, but still Brandon felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Suddenly the smells of hot water, detergent and mildew were overpowering. “You know how I feel about it.”
Traces of sadness edged her smile. “I don’t know why you want to ruin my happiness.” She opened the lid of the washing machine and tossed in a cup’s worth of detergent.
“Al won’t make you happy.” He was blunt and he knew it, but this time she couldn’t be coddled. Al Cunningham was a louse, and Venitia, despite everything she claimed, didn’t love him.
“Of course he will.”
“Ma, really—”
“And he’ll make my life easier,” she said, her brow puckering as it always did whenever she fought tears. Quickly tossing in the sheets and white towels, she scanned the counter near the sink. “Now, where’s my bleach?”
Brandon found the white bottle, stuck on a shelf behind some boxes and a can of floor wax.
“Thanks,” she said as he handed her the bleach. She unscrewed the cap and fumes of chlorine filled the small room, burning the insides of Brandon’s nostrils. She measured out a cup before adding it to a dispenser in the machine. “I don’t know what you have against Al. He’s rock steady and Lord knows that’s exactly what I need.”
“He’ll bore you to tears.”
“He’s got a good job.”
“With Jonah McKee’s mill. You know how things are in the logging business right now. McKee’s already sold off two mills and one of his logging camps. People are let go all the time.” Uncomfortable in his role of marital advisor, he rubbed the back of his neck. Why was his mother so damned naive? Sometimes he felt as if their roles were reversed and he was the parent, she the child. “Don’t marry Al for the security, Ma.”
“You don’t understand. Al’s taken a job with another mill where they make chipboard. In Everett, Washington. He’ll make more money than he does here and I can give up my job with the janitorial service. But that’s not what matters, Brand. I want you to know I’m marrying Al because I love him.” She inched up her chin despite the telltale blush climbing up her neck. She’d always been a lousy liar. “I can’t pine after your father forever.” She slammed down the lid of the washer.
Brandon didn’t want to be reminded of his old man. The jerk had bailed out before he was born, and the irresponsible creep hadn’t even bothered marrying his mother. It had been nearly twenty years, for God’s sake. He never once remembered his mother pining for Jake Kendall, a cowboy and drifter who pulled up stakes when he found out he was going to be a father. No, Venitia hadn’t cried too many tears for the son of a bitch and he didn’t blame her. Brandon suspected her of loving someone else, someone inaccessible and from a distance, though he had no proof. It was just a gut feeling—that his mother was the victim of unrequited love. “There have been other guys,” he reminded her as gently as he could.
Bending over, she yanked faded jeans and sweatshirts from the dryer. “Yeah, well, they weren’t the marrying kind.”
“Is that so important?”
She didn’t answer, just grabbed her wicker basket and turned a stiff back to her son as she stalked out of the room. He knew it had been hard, raising a baby without the benefits, support and respect that a husband provided. He’d heard the whispers and taunts, been the butt of a hundred jokes himself. No wonder she grasped the chance to become respectable. He couldn’t fault her there. But marrying Al Cunningham? The guy was so boring he probably put himself to sleep.
Brandon followed her into the kitchen where she was folding towels on the scarred Formica tabletop. “Think it through, okay?” He pulled an old pair of Levi’s from the basket and snapped them briskly, as he had a thousand times. From the age of seven, he’d helped with the laundry and other household chores. He used to mind and as a thirteen-year-old he’d thought all housework was for women, but slowly he’d learned that it was all part of living.
“I have thought about it,” she said stubbornly. “And I’m going to get married, Brandon. I’m forty-three—I think it’s time. The wedding’s already planned for next month and then, well, after we tie up a few loose ends around here, we’ll be putting this house on the market and moving.”
“To Everett?” He didn’t hide his skepticism.
“That’s right.”
“Where you don’t know a soul.”
“I’ll make new friends. Come on, baby,” she said, her eyes suddenly soft. “Can’t you be happy for me?”
“I’m trying, Ma,” he said, though for the life of him he couldn’t find an iota of joy in the situation. He should have been ecstatic, buoyed by the sense that he would finally be free. His mother would be married off and would have a husband to look after her—to worry about her and tuck her into bed when she’d had too much to drink. But he wasn’t. He felt that she was settling, giving up on her dreams, and she deserved so much better than Al Cunningham.
“My only worry is you,” she said, smoothing a once-thick sweatshirt and folding the arms into the middle. “If you want to stay here, I don’t have to sell the house right away—”
“No,” he cut in swiftly, though he wouldn’t tell her that the tiny cottage didn’t hold many happy memories for him. After all, she’d tried. Done her best. “Rent it. Sell it, or whatever. I don’t want it.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Was there just a tiny crack of disappointment in her voice?
“Not at all.” How could he explain that he’d only stayed on because he’d felt duty bound, that he hadn’t moved out long ago for fear that she’d be incredibly lonely? “I planned to go to California come winter. You know that.”
“A pipe dream.” Her fingers fluttered in the air as if she were brushing the ridiculous idea aside. “You should move in with us. Maybe take some classes at the community college. Make some new friends.”
Inexplicably he thought of Dani. But then he’d thought of her a lot these days, more than was healthy. “I don’t think so.”
“But it would be a chance for you to make a clean start.”
“I can do that in L.A.”
She frowned, unable to let him go. “Al says there are plenty of jobs up there and—”
Tired of dancing around the subject, he snapped. Grabbing her by the arms, he held on tight. The worn T-shirt she’d been folding drifted to the floor and he tried to control the anger that swept through his blood. She’d been laying a guilt trip on him for too long, a trip that wouldn’t work if she was serious about marrying Cunningham. “I don’t care what Al says. It’s past time for me to leave. We both know it.”
Worry clouded her eyes. “I don’t see why you can’t accept Al.”
He held up his hands and backed out of the room. “Look, it doesn’t matter what I say. You’re going to marry Al and I hope to God that you’re happy. Really. What I think doesn’t matter. Whether you marry him or not, I’m outta here. Shoulda left a long time ago.” He stalked back to the porch and reached for his jacket.
“You could have the decency to wish me good luck,” she said, her shoes clicking against the yellowed linoleum.
“Good luck,” he retorted, unable to keep the sarcasm from his words. You’ll need it.
He was out the back door when her voice reached him again. “Brand?”
“What?” He didn’t stop striding toward his bike.
“I was hoping you’d give me away.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly he turned to face her then and found her standing in the doorway, a proud woman who’d spent the best years of her life trying to provide for him. “Oh, God, Mom, you’re not serious.”
Her back stiffened as if it had been starched. “More serious than I’ve ever been in my life.” She was down the steps and across the uneven yard within seconds. As she ducked under the clothesline, her chin wobbled a bit and it got to him, even though he knew it was probably just an act.
“Don’t ask me.”
“I already have, Brand.” She placed a hand on his sleeve, a warm, motherly hand meant to remind him of all the things she’d done for him, all the sacrifices she’d so willingly made. “Please, if you don’t do another thing for me the rest of my life, walk me down the aisle.”
An ache settled deep in his heart, but he steeled himself. Yanking his arm away, he swung onto his cycle. “If it’s what you want, okay. But that’s it. After the ceremony, I’m gone.”
She bit her lip. “You’re all I have, you know.”
“Not anymore, Mom,” he reminded her, his voice more savage than kind. “You’ve got Al now.” It sounded so final. He ignored the tears shimmering in his mother’s eyes and tried to forget the guilt that was pounding at his temples. He should have been thrilled to finally be free. But as he put his bike through its paces, speeding toward the city limits, he felt the breath of disaster hot against the back of his neck.
* * *
If she didn’t watch herself, she’d end up just like her mother, Dani thought grimly as she sat on the old log that had fallen across Wildcat Creek and formed a natural bridge. She spent nearly every waking hour thinking of Brand. Ever since their argument in the library, she’d jumped each time the phone rang, considered calling him and found excuses to drive into Dawson City. “Pathetic,” she said, dragging her bare toes through the shaded waters. “Just plain pathetic. He doesn’t even know you’re alive.”
Frowning, she knew she should make her way back home. It was nearly dusk and she’d sought solace in this private place just as she had every time she’d been troubled during her growing-up years when it just didn’t seem right to burden her mother or older sister with her problems. She often exercised horses for free when she was upset, but since she couldn’t today, she’d come to this shady little grove. She’d never seen another living soul in this place, except during hunting season, when an avid rifleman had ignored the posted No Hunting signs and searched the woods for signs of game.
A few times, Dani had brought her friends with her, but usually she walked to the outskirts of town, climbed a couple of fences and hiked down an old deer trail to the creek. The property belonged to somebody, but no one seemed to know who actually held the deed.
Jonah McKee was a name that came readily to mind and it bothered her to think that the old man might own this private little spot as well as most everything else in Rimrock.
Ignoring her mother’s comments from the other day, she reached into her pocket, found the last cigarette in her pack and lit up. Drawing the smoke deep into her lungs, she nearly coughed at the sound of another voice.
“Those things’ll kill ya.”
Brand! Her heart leaped as she looked over her shoulder. Miraculously, as if appearing out of the shadows, he was leaning against the bark of a scraggly old pine tree.
“I’m not kidding. Maybe not right away, but eventually, in the next thirty to sixty years, they’ll do you in.”
She ground out her cigarette in the bark of the tree she was sitting on. “Did you come by just to give me an update on the surgeon general’s latest findings?” He laughed and the deep sound rumbled over the small ravine and echoed in her heart. She suddenly felt self-conscious, as if he could read in her eyes how much she’d missed him, how desperate she’d been to see him again. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound as if she didn’t care, as if the drumming in her heart was a normal state for her.
“Looking for you.” He said it bluntly, a simple statement of fact.
Her heart nearly stopped. She swallowed hard. “But how’d you find me?” No one ever came to this little bend in the creek just outside of town.
He pushed himself upright and edged down the overgrown embankment to the creek. “I followed you.”
“You what?” She was flabbergasted. “But why?”
“I didn’t want to risk calling or stopping by because I thought you might catch hell from your mother if I started hanging around.”
“That’s always a possibility,” she admitted, feeling more than a little embarrassed. “It’s not you she doesn’t approve of, just your reputation.”
“And I’ve spent so much time cultivating it,” he deadpanned.
“Very funny,” she mocked, but laughed at his sarcasm. “My mother thinks I should hang out with a different crowd.”
“Such as?”
“I guess I could start with the McKees—though she’s a little concerned about the younger brother. He’s a wild one.”
“Jenner’s the only decent one of the lot. You could go chasing after him, I suppose, but he’s hard to catch.” Brand’s blue eyes flared with amusement, and Dani, smothering a smile, drew back her leg, dragging her toes through the water, then kicked forward to send a spray of water to the bank, splashing him. “Hey!”
She giggled and did it again.
“Cut that out!” But he was grinning, revenge twinkling in his eyes as water dripped from his face, down his neck and T-shirt. “You’re asking for it,” he warned.
“For what?” Playfully she angled her chin up at him.
“Trouble,” he said, climbing onto the log.
She scrambled to her feet. “I’m not afraid of a little trouble,” she said, cocking a brow in silent challenge, though she was braced to run.
“How about big trouble?”
“Oh, I can handle that, too.” She knew she was baiting him but couldn’t help herself. He walked forward, without looking down, his boots not slipping a fraction. His eyes were intense, his thin lips turned into a crooked smile that caused her pulse to beat out of control. “Why were you looking for me?”
“Good question.” He stopped just inches from her, and the sounds of this thicket near the creek, the slap of water over smooth stones, the drone of insects, the whisper of wind through the boughs overhead, seemed to mute until all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and her own shallow breathing.
“I—I thought you were mad at me.”
His eyebrows arched slightly. “Oh, I am,” he said.
“You are?”
“Furious. Can’t you tell?”
Her throat turned to dust.
“So why did you come here?”
His eyes sparked. “Guess.”
“To scare me?”
“Nah.” A quick shake of his head and she felt her body tingle.
“Punish me?”
He hesitated. She caught her breath. If she didn’t trust him so much, she might have considered him menacing. Reaching forward, he slid work-roughened fingers under her jaw. “I don’t believe in punishment.” His face was so close to hers that she noticed how thick and black his eyelashes were. His gaze narrowed, centering on her lips. “Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong, did you?”
She flushed from guilt or his heat, she didn’t know which. “I lied to my mother and—”
“Because you wanted to see me.” His fingers touched the underside of her chin, and her knees threatened to give way.
“Yes.”
“Why did you want to be with me so badly?”
“I wish I knew,” she whispered while his finger stroked her throat.
“So do I.” He stared at her long and hard, as if he was measuring what he was about to do. Then he lowered his head and slanted his lips over hers.
In one quick motion his arms surrounded her. He drew her close and kissed her with lips that were hot and hard and demanding. Dani’s eyes closed, her heart thundered, and places deep inside her started to melt. She sagged against him, opening her mouth to the warm, insistent pressure of his tongue.
Lifting his head, he held her close, cradling her, holding her so that her forehead fitted against his chest. “I knew it would be like this with you.”
She didn’t respond. She’d never felt like this before, never felt so completely undone, so empty inside, so wanting. Although she had a reputation as a party girl, deep down she thought she might be a prude. Oh, she liked kissing, found it pleasurable, but never like this, and she’d never let a boy so much as touch her breasts.
One time after a date with Martin Olson, he’d kissed her in the car. His hands had found the hem of her sweater and his fingers had slipped underneath, grazing her abdomen before quickly clamping over her bra. He’d been breathing heavily, his hands sweaty and anxious as he’d pawed at her. She’d stiffened, trying to relax, but couldn’t. Some of her girlfriends had told her how they’d trembled with desire when their boyfriends touched them in private places, but all that Dani had felt with Martin had been sick revulsion.
She’d tried to slip away but he’d become more insistent.
“Oh, Dani, let me,” he’d pleaded into her open mouth as his hands tried to unhook her bra. “You’re so beautiful. I know they’re beautiful, too. So beautiful.” He’d licked his lips and kissed her sloppily, his entire body pressing urgently to hers as he tried, fumbling, to find her nipple beneath her cotton bra. “I just want to look at them, to touch them, to feel them in my mouth.”
“No way!” She’d pulled away, reaching for the door handle of his old Ford.
“But I love you.”
“You do not.” Her fingers had encountered the cold metal.
“Dani, don’t. Come on, what does it hurt—”
She’d fought her way out of the sedan, slammed the car door shut and raced up the driveway, more scared than she’d ever been in her life. What had been wrong with her? She’d liked Martin; he was a decent guy and he honestly seemed to care about her. But his fascination with her breasts had turned her off. She’d squeezed back tears thinking she was frigid, unlike her friends, Alison and Terry, who couldn’t wait to “do it” with their boyfriends.
Now, she knew differently. Brand kissed her again so soundly that she clung to him, her body limp. For the first time in her life, she understood how passion could rob a person of her senses, could make her blind and wanting, aching inside. She realized that she was normal in her desire to touch and explore, that, with Brandon, she wanted more.
“Hell,” Brand whispered as he released her and shoved both hands through his hair. Without his support, she nearly toppled off the log, and he caught her arm, quickly drawing her close. His face was full of wonder, as if the lightning that had sizzled between them was new to him. “This could be dangerous.”
“It already is.”
He chuckled and she sighed happily, her breath spreading over his chest, her arms wrapped loosely around his waist. The lean, hard muscles felt good to her and it seemed as if she belonged here—forever in his embrace. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Brandon Scarlotti wasn’t a forever kind of guy.
“Come on, Dani. We’d better get out of here before we do something we’ll both regret.”
“And what would that be?” she asked saucily.
“You wouldn’t want to know.”
She smiled, because she already knew that, whether they planned it or not, it was only a matter of time before she kissed him again. Her throat dry as cotton, she realized that she might make love to him. But that was crazy—her fantasies were running away with her, her mind spinning in wild, new directions. What was she thinking? Blushing to the roots of her hair, she scurried off the log.
Sandals dangling from the fingers of one hand, she walked barefoot across the field, the stubble of grass pricking the bottoms of her feet, grasshoppers flying ahead of them. Brand held her other hand firmly in his, as if he expected her to bolt and run from him, until they reached the old, dilapidated gate with the rusted metal No Trespassing sign that they’d ignored. On the other side, parked on a packed-dirt road, was his motorcycle. He helped her over the gate, and as she landed on the far side, his hands slid up her waist and held tight to her ribs. “You’re something else,” he whispered.
“Oh, yeah? Good or bad?” she teased.
“Bad. Definitely bad, Miss Donahue.”
“I’ve got news for you. So are you.”
“Old news,” he said, his eyes searching hers as if looking for the key that he could use to unlock her secrets one by one.
She licked her lips nervously and he groaned, then he drew her to him and kissed her hard, his lips seeming to sear into her skin, to brand her forever. Again she melted and a yearning, deep and dangerous, awakened in her. His fingers seemed to leave impressions on her skin.
Quickly, muttering something about leaving while he still could, he let her go, slanted her an I-don’t-believe-this-is-happening-to-me look and strode to his bike. “See ya,” he said.
“Yeah.” I hope so!
His big motorcycle glinted in the sunlight as he took off, and her heart followed after him, riding on a blue cloud of exhaust.
* * *
Brand couldn’t quit thinking about her. During the day, at work, while he was helping out with the construction crew, she invaded his mind. He worked for Red Ingstrom, a burly man with muscular arms that looked nearly out of proportion to the rest of his body. “You remind me of myself when I was a kid,” Red had told him when he’d applied for the job of general construction apprentice. “Hell on wheels.” He’d moved a glob of tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. “A guy gave me a break and I ended up okay—settled down and worked hard, raised two no-good sons and three daughters and I’ve made more than my share of money. You can have the job, long as I know that you’ll give me a hundred and fifty percent.”
Brand had agreed and worked for Red ever since, learning the trade, listening and watching as Red’s company renovated old buildings as well as built new. Everything from houses to shopping malls. No job was too big or too small. “That’s the key,” Red had confided in him. “Do a good job for a decent price and make a little money at a time. Forget about the big score—like as not all you’ll end up doing is losing your shirt.”
Red had treated him fairly, given him raises when he deserved them and lectured when Brand had fouled up. Red had even helped get him out of jail a time or two—at least Brand assumed that his unknown benefactor had been his boss, though Red steadfastly claimed that he hadn’t done anything. “You land in the big house, it’s your problem, believe me.” But Brand had never believed him. Who else would have had the time, money or inclination to get him off? Red Ingstrom was the closest thing to a father Brandon had ever known.
And right now Red was mad. Smoke-breathing, vein-popping mad. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” Red demanded, his face flushed and sweaty. He swiped it with a scarlet-patterned handkerchief. “That makes twice today that you’ve misread the blueprints. The window’s on the south side of the house, for crying out loud.”
“You’re right,” Brand said, feeling like a fool—a complete novice.
“You’ve never screwed up like this since I hired you.” Red shoved his face close to Brand, though he had to angle his head upward. Sweat was visible in Red’s crew cut. “Got a problem I should know about?”
“No problems.”
Red snorted and slammed his hard hat back on his head. “Nothing to do with a woman, right?”
“No way.”
“Good. Just be careful, okay?”
For the rest of the day, Red, whenever he was around, was double-checking Brand’s work, grunting in satisfaction when the job was done right. Brandon could have kicked himself. He’d always been professional on the job. No matter what else happened in his personal life, he was able to keep the two separate. Until now. Until Dani Donahue.
For no reason he could name, that girl had him tied in knots. Not only during the day, but at night, alone, when he tried to sleep, her image would come to him. And though he was determined to will her away, she stayed in his mind, messing him up and making him so hard he ached. He dreamed of her. Naked and hot, writhing under him, screaming his name, he saw her in his mind’s eye and he’d wake up sweaty and tangled in his sheets, lust pounding in his temples and throbbing in his loins. He’d managed to see her a couple of times since he’d found her down by the creek. She’d always seemed glad to see him and flashed him a breathtaking smile before kissing him as he’d never been kissed in his life. Kisses that kept him begging for more.
He was meeting her after work at the Kellogg farm outside of Rimrock. Old Cyrus was out of town for three weeks and Dani had agreed to exercise his horses. She’d asked Brand to join her, and though he had no affinity for long-legged beasts with minds of their own, he couldn’t wait to see her again.
* * *
Dani bit her lower lip and waited. She’d already run two of Kellogg’s horses, letting them stretch their legs. Now Bourbon, a tall dun gelding, and Kimo, a feisty white mare, were saddled and waiting, their tails switching and hides twitching against the ever-present flies. The reins of their bridles were looped over the top fence rail and the horses pulled, hoping to stretch the leather so that they could graze on a few dry blades of grass near the fence. She probably shouldn’t have asked Brandon to meet her here, but she’d wanted to see him so badly that she’d thrown caution to the wind. Sneaking around was getting to her, though. Every time she walked out of the house and didn’t tell Irene she was planning to meet Brand, she felt guilty and foolish
On the other hand, her mother had no right to be so prejudiced against him. Several times, Dani had brought up his name, careful to include names of other kids, as well, and her mother had started on a tirade.
“I don’t know why you pick such a sorry lot of kids to hang out with,” Irene had raged just yesterday. “Alison’s giving her parents fits, let me tell you. She’s so wrapped up in her boyfriend, there’s going to be trouble, you mark my words. And I’m surprised you even know that Scarlotti boy. Stay away from him, y’hear. That one’s nothing but trouble.”
“He seems all right to me,” Dani had argued.
“If you call being a juvenile delinquent all right. He’s always—and I mean always—getting into trouble with the law. Lordy! It’s amazing that he hasn’t been put in some kind of home for wayward boys.”
“He helps his mother—”
“Venitia,” Irene said, her lips curling into a deep scowl. “She’s the real problem. Had that kid out of wedlock and held her head upright, which I guess you can’t blame her for. She got herself mixed up with the wrong kind of guy, and that’s why I’m telling you to stay away from her son. He’s messed up—grew up without knowing his father—”
“Like I did?”
Irene stopped and just stared at Dani. “You at least knew of him, knew that he was a decent man, that we were married when you kids were conceived. Your father died, Dani. He didn’t take off because he didn’t want to be tied down with kids.”
“That’s not Brandon’s fault.”
“No, but let’s just say he’s always been wild. Venitia’s never had the strength or know-how to keep him in line. It’s a shame really, but none of our concern. You stay away from that boy, and believe me, you’ll save yourself a mountain of grief.”
“I swear, Mom, he’s not as bad as everyone makes out,” Dani said defensively. Her mother might have been more concerned except that Dani had a reputation for picking the side of the underdog. Hard on the outside, Dani had a soft interior and she was a sucker for stray dogs and cats, lost kids or anyone who got a raw deal in life.
Now she drummed her fingers on the split-rail fence and smiled when she heard his motorcycle. So he had come after all.
He wheeled into the graveled area that served as a parking lot and climbed off his bike. Dressed in a T-shirt and sun-bleached jeans, his hair wild from the wind, he strode up to her with a look so intense Dani’s heart started knocking crazily.
“I thought you might chicken out,” she teased, tossing her hair over one shoulder.
“Me?” He eyed the horses and sighed. “To tell you the truth, I thought about it. Horses and I don’t get along all that well.”
“Maybe it’s time to change all that.”
She reached for the reins, but a strong hand covered hers. Before she could move, he drew her close to him and kissed her with a passion that trapped her breath in her lungs. The sunlit day seemed to spin around them before he lifted his head. Amusement flickered in his eyes.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, pressing her back against the fence rails so that his hips fitted snugly into the V of her legs, his hardness firm against her mound. Even through the denim of both their jeans, she could feel the throbbing down there, the pressure building, the lust that burned through the frail cloth. “I didn’t come here because of some mangy beasts.”
“They’re not mangy,” she said, gasping. “They’re incredible. I feel about them the way you feel about your bike.”
“My bike doesn’t kick or bite and the garage doesn’t have to be shoveled out all the time.”
“By the end of the day, you’ll love riding,” she said, unwrapping the reins and trying to ignore the fact that she was tingling all over, that her skin was more alive than ever.
“Don’t count on it.”
“Sourpuss,” she muttered under her breath while she held the gate open for him.
“Careful, lady,” he warned, one dark eyebrow arching as he surveyed the horses.
“They’re docile. Really. This is Bourbon.” She handed Brand the reins. “I have a feeling you two are going to be fast friends.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
They climbed into the saddles and Dani led the way through a series of gates to the single big pasture. The hay had been mowed a while ago and the stubble that remained was the color of winter wheat.
Brand didn’t seem as unfamiliar in the saddle as he’d proclaimed. When Dani urged Kimo into a trot, Brand, astride Bourbon, kept up. And as she changed pace first into a slow lope, then into a gallop, Brand clucked his tongue and followed suit. The two horses took off over the soft hills, stride for stride.
Dani squinted against the lowering sun and breathed deeply of the hot, dry air. The wind tangled her hair and she felt the same sense of elation, that wild thrill that she always experienced astride a swift horse. They ran until she knew that her mount was tiring, then she drew up on the reins and slowed Kimo into a walk. The mare was blowing and tossing her head, and as Bourbon approached, she turned quickly and nipped at the dun’s rump.
“Hey, what’s this?”
Laughing, Dani pulled back hard and forced Kimo’s head away from the taller horse’s flank. “She’s a little mean spirited.”
“Now you tell me.”
“But he’s as gentle as a lamb.” She hitched her chin toward Brand’s mount. “Not that it matters. You’ve ridden before,” she said, and Brand held up both hands, letting the reins, already knotted, fall onto Bourbon’s neck.
“Guilty as charged.”
“Then why’d you let me believe that this was your first time?”
“I didn’t say that. You just assumed.”
They drew up beneath a cottonwood tree hugging the shores of a creek that was nearly dry. “Where’d you learn to ride?” she asked as they let the horses graze on the dry grass and weeds.
“A friend of mine. Bobby Grayhawk’s family had a lot of horses before they moved. He and I used to ride them bareback, pretend we were his ancestors. He claimed to be the great-great-grandson of some big-shot Nez Percé chief, I think, but then Bobby’s imagination had a way of always running away with him. Anyway,” he said, walking to the shade of the tree and leaning against a low branch, “that was a long time ago. Bobby moved when we were in the seventh grade.”
“So why all the bad-mouthing about horses?” She walked up to him, close enough that he slipped a strong arm around her waist.
“I guess I grew out of horses and into cars and motorcycles.”
“You were just giving me a hard time.”
“Trying,” he admitted, slanting her a devilish smile that melted her heart.
“And I fell for it.”
“Hook, line and sinker.” He pulled her closer so that his breath was warm against her face and moved the strands of her hair. One of the horses nickered softly as Brand lowered his head and his lips pressed intimately to hers. Inside she quivered and opened her mouth willingly to the sweet pressure of his tongue. Her hands reached upward to clutch steely shoulders as he kissed her and pulled her snug against him. Big hands, strong fingers, hot skin rubbed her lower back in sweet, seductive circles. She moaned as his fingertips skimmed her rump, then clutched both cheeks hard.
Hot desire stirred her blood. The kiss deepened and she closed her eyes, feeling as if she’d been swept away on some delicious tide of passion. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and though warning bells clanged through her mind, she ignored them.
Together they tumbled to the ground, and Brand, as if some keeper had set him free, began undressing her. Hot, feverish hands unbuttoned her blouse and touched the lacy edge of her bra. “Dani,” he whispered, his breath warm through the scanty cloth. They’d never gone this far, but she couldn’t stop him—didn’t want to.
He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her neck, before moving lower and pressing wet lips to her sternum.
Trembling, she cradled his head, holding him close, her insides raging with forbidden fires as he cupped her breast then kissed it. She gasped, her nipple puckering anxiously, wanting more, so much more. He unhooked her bra, letting her breast fall free, kissing the white skin, rimming her dark circle with his tongue. She bucked on the ground, forcing his head closer, and he rolled her on top of him so that he could receive more, so that he could suckle freely while his hands worked with the zipper of her jeans.
“I want you,” he said when at last he looked up at her. His face was flushed and sweaty, his eyes dark with desire.
“I want you, too.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do. Oh, Brand, yes, I do,” she said, straddling him and sliding her crotch over the bulge in his jeans. All her doubts and reservations had fled and now desire pumped through her blood, controlled her mind. She moved as if she’d done it a hundred times, though no one had ever touched her. The power of his body, the heat of his skin, made her do things that were new, but felt so right. So natural.
“Dani, listen,” he said, then sighed loudly as he saw her breasts swinging freely above him. With a raw groan he suckled again and his hands struggled with her jeans. Soon she was dressed only in white lace panties and she felt him shift beneath her, his hot lips moving anxiously, lower and lower still. His tongue rimmed her navel and she felt a tremor slide over her as he rubbed her panties with his hands, forcing her legs farther apart. She cried out when one of his fingers slipped beneath the elastic and probed gently but firmly. Hot wax seemed to melt inside her. “That’s a girl,” he whispered against her thigh and she writhed with an ache so deep she felt near to tears. Slowly he moved, expanding her, another finger joining the first.
“Brand, oh, Brand,” she cried, from ecstasy or torment she didn’t know.
“Be patient, darlin’.”
Another finger touched a special spot and she rocked forward. He stripped her of her underwear and then his face, warm and beloved, was between her legs, his breath sweet and hot in her curls. Perspiration sheened across her skin and the world seemed to slip away.
“Wh-what—oh, oh . . .”
The tip of his tongue tickled her and she opened up, feeling him enter her, his hands gripping her buttocks as he kissed her and touched her where no man had dared. Sweet juices flowed and he groaned. She moved against him, rocking, the world splintering as he moved upward, rolled her on her back. And as his lips crashed down on hers, he entered her, thrusting deep, breaking the barrier that was her virginity. She cried out and he withdrew only to thrust again, pushing harder, deeper. Her mind spun in spectacular whirlpools and she moved with him, feeling their bodies join. His tempo increased, faster and faster, and she was with him, clinging to him, screaming his name, a wild thing who knew no bounds.
“Brand, oh, Brand—”
“Love me, Dani, just love me!” He threw back his head and let out a primal yell.
“I do! Ooooh—” She shuddered, the earth moving, the skies exploding as he fell gasping against her, crushing her breasts, his hands tangling in her hair.
She held him as if she would never let go. Slowly her breathing returned to normal and she realized that she was no longer a girl. For now and forever, Brandon Scarlotti had made her a woman.