CHAPTER 10
Tony awoke in the middle of the night. Somewhere, in a dark corner of the room, a cricket chirped in resounding monotony, but that wasn’t what had awakened him. It was her heat, surrounding him as in her sleep her body sought the contours of his. She was wrapped around his back like a blanket, her scent surrounding him like a dream. For a long moment he didn’t move, relishing the feel of her breasts pressed against his back, her legs spooned with his. He marveled at how well their bodies fit together, like utensils nestled together in a drawer.
Suddenly the intimacy was too much. He eased himself away from her and out of bed, seeking a chair at the table. Fumbling around in the darkness, he found his pack of cigarettes and an ashtray. Strange—since being with Libby, he’d nearly broken the nicotine habit.
He shook a cigarette from the pack, then changed his mind and threw the pack into the nearby trash can. Leaning his head back, he concentrated on all the reasons why he shouldn’t wake Libby and make love to her. He genuinely liked her, and that was one of the strongest reasons for not making love to her. He liked her and he didn’t want to hurt her.
It had never mattered much with other women. He could be a bastard, love them and leave them without a backward glance. He never stuck around long enough for anyone to develop a true case of heartbreak complete with scars.
Scars… He had enough from childhood to last him a lifetime. First, the scars of having a bastard for a father, then the scars from watching his mother lose her vitality, become colorless and without animation, eventually a shadow woman who had no life but what she could find in a bottle of gin. And the worst fear of all was that he truly was his father’s son, with all his father’s faults. He didn’t mind being a bastard to women who didn’t count, but he had promised himself a long time ago that he would never be responsible for making a woman a shadow, for sucking the life out of her and leaving her empty and bereft.
He thought of the private investigator who’d been sent on his way. The man had been an out-of-shape, greedy pig who’d do anything for a dollar. What bothered Tony was the thought that by taking the job from Bill Weatherby, he had put himself in the same category as the fat P.I. Lately, it was more and more difficult to remember exactly why he had wanted to quit the police force and go into business for himself. It bothered him that he could end up like the fat sleaze…taking whatever kind of job was offered for a few dollars’ pay.
“Tony?”
He tensed at the sound of Libby’s voice in the darkness. “I’m here,” he answered after a moment of hesitation.
He heard rather than saw her sit up in bed. “Is everything all right?” Her concern was evident in her tone.
“Everything is fine,” he assured her. “Go back to sleep.”
She didn’t go back to sleep. He heard the rustle of covers, the sound of her bare feet as they hit the floor. Then she stood next to him, her evocative scent all around him, the heat from her body surrounding him. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
For just a moment he hated her. He hated her concern, he hated her beauty, hated her because he cared about her. “I’m fine,” he answered tersely, wishing she’d go away, leave him alone.
“Can’t sleep?” She moved even closer and he was afraid that if she touched him in any way, his tight control would break.
“Damn it, Libby, just go back to bed,” he retorted sharply. He heard her sharp intake of surprise at his frigid tone, then the soft padding of her feet as she did as he asked. He breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Better that she think him a moody, cranky son of a bitch. Better that she realize he was a bastard. Better that, than let her see he was falling in love with her.
* * *
It was a long night, an even longer morning. Tony seemed to go out of his way to be surly. He snapped and snarled like a tethered dog who’d been teased by bullies, and it wasn’t long before Libby found a foul mood of her own.
Like it’s my fault we’re stuck in this little cabin, she thought as she washed their lunch dishes. Like it’s all my fault the stupid necklace was brought into my shop. She looked over to where he sat at the table, staring blankly at the wall opposite him. She stifled the impulse to throw something at him.
She finished the dishes, then joined him at the table, drumming her fingertips on the tabletop, knowing she irritated him and perversely finding satisfaction in doing so. “I preferred your empty, charming ways to this surly, black mood of yours,” she finally said, staring at him defiantly as he looked at her in surprise.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a twinkle appeared in his eyes. Damn, but she had nerve. Most people, when faced with one of his black moods, steered clear. But she met him head-on, unafraid of repercussions. “I’m sorry, I have been rather hateful,” he admitted.
“Rather hateful?” She raised a pale blond eyebrow. “Try again.”
“Okay, I’ve been totally hateful.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t stand being cooped up in here. I’m used to action.”
“This isn’t exactly my idea of a fun vacation, either,” she chided him.
He laughed, finding it impossible to hold on to anger where she was concerned. She simply wouldn’t allow him to be angry with her for something that wasn’t her fault. “I’m bored,” he admitted.
“Want to play some more poker?” she asked.
He groaned. “I’m not that bored. Besides, you hurt my male ego yesterday by soundly tromping me.”
“I know something we can do,” she ventured.
“What?” he asked, knowing she didn’t have on her mind what he did.
“We could play truth or dare.”
Tony frowned. “What’s that?”
“It’s a game we used to play at slumber parties and get-togethers when I was in high school. One person chooses to either tell the truth to a question asked, or do something on a dare.”
“Sounds stupid,” he retorted, feeling himself growing more irritable with every passing moment.
“What’s the matter, Pandolinni? Scared of a silly schoolgirl game?” Her eyes sparkled brightly.
“Fine, I’ll play,” he replied, smiling jauntily in answer to her challenge. “So, how do we start?”
“I’ll start. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he answered, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into.
Her blue eyes gazed at him directly. “Who was the first girl you ever kissed?”
“That’s easy,” Tony said with a laugh. “Her name was Linda Cooper and she was an older woman. She was in sixth grade, and I was in fourth, and I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I was invited to a birthday party where she was also a guest and somehow we started playing spin the bottle.” His eyes were a warm gray as he tilted his head to one side, a grin lifting his lips. “It was my turn, and I prayed and prayed for that bottle to spin to Linda and when it did, I thought I would die from happiness. I leaned over and kissed her, and she wiped her mouth and said ‘Yuck!’” He laughed at the memory. “Needless to say, my infatuation with Linda died a harsh and brutal death.” He eyed her with a wicked smile. “Now, your turn. Truth or dare.”
“Truth.”
“Who was the first man you made love with?”
Her face colored to a blossom pink. “Bill. Oh, I know it’s dreadfully old-fashioned, but I was a virgin on my wedding night. Vinnie drummed it into me. ‘Why would a man buy a cow if he’s getting the milk for free?’ he used to tell me over and over again, and to me it made a crazy kind of sense. Of course, I’m not so provincial now.” Another blush swept over her face.
“Hmm, so you’ve had lots of lovers since Bill?”
“Not fair. One question at a time,” she said with a teasing smile. “My turn again. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why have you never married?”
Tony folded his hands on the tabletop, gazing at them thoughtfully. “I decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t for me. The Pandolinni men really don’t make good husband material.” He looked back up at her. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why did you and your ex-husband divorce?”
She smiled. “Bill wanted a very different woman than what I was. He wanted somebody who would be happy sitting at home waiting for his return. He wanted somebody to sit on the bench at his baseball games and ooh and ahh about his skill. I’m not a bench-sitter, never will be. To me, marriage is a partnership…a give and take. Bill didn’t want to give. He only wanted to take.” She pushed a strand of her shining blond hair behind her shoulder. “Bill will eventually be all right. He’ll find the kind of woman he needs in his life and he’ll move on. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Will you marry again?”
“Not fair,” she reminded him. “That’s two questions. It’s my turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why do Pandolinni men make poor husband material?”
Tony frowned. He wasn’t accustomed to talking about himself, baring himself to anyone. It’s just a game, he reminded himself. “My father was a great cop, but he was horrible as a husband and a family man. He was cold, detached. The characteristics that made him a good cop made him a miserable human being.” His hands clenched into fists as he thought about the man he’d worked so desperately to please. “I joined the police force in an effort to make him happy, get some sort of validation from him. I watched my mother slowly fold into herself, escaping his coldness by warming herself with a bottle of gin.” For a moment he forgot where he was, who he was speaking to, as memory after memory assaulted his brain.
“When I was in fourth grade, I noticed my mom getting quieter and quieter, and when she tucked me in at night, I’d smell the liquor. By the time I was in sixth grade, I smelled the gin when I got home from school in the afternoons. And when I was in high school, she rarely got out of bed. I hated her, but I hated my father even more, because I knew he was the one who’d created her. He’d made her a shadow. I finally quit the police force so I wouldn’t become a man like my father, and I vowed I’d never take a woman into my life and subject her to the life-style that destroyed my mother.” He jumped up from the table, suddenly angry that he’d said too much. “This is a stupid game and I don’t want to play it anymore.” He walked to the front door, needing to escape from her and her provocative ways and probing questions. “I’m going to see if I can’t find a newspaper at one of the stores. I’ll be back later.”
Libby watched him slam out of the door, surprised that such an innocent question had obviously touched a nerve.
She ached for the little boy he had been, trying to please a cold, distant father. She hurt for the child who’d never had his father and had lost his mother, as well. But more than anything, she mourned the man who had made himself a vow long ago…a vow created by disillusionment and bitterness.
Didn’t he realize that by keeping himself isolated from love, by refusing to consider the possibility of sharing his life, he would eventually become a cold, detached man just like his father?
She hadn’t meant to pry into his personal life, although she had to admit she’d hoped by playing the silly little game that she would learn a little bit more about him.
She got up from the table and grabbed her purse, digging in the bottom until she found her nail file. She had to do something, anything, to pass the time.
As she filed her nails, she thought of her shop, wondering what her customers thought about it being closed for the past two days. In all the years her father had owned it, and in the past year of her ownership, the store had never been closed during the week.
It was difficult to consider that three days before, her life had been sane and normal. Now she was in a motel room in the middle of the Ozarks, hiding out from men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill her to get what they wanted. She was cooped up with a man she hardly knew, yet trusted with her life, a man she knew she was dangerously close to falling in love with.
She finished her nails and put the file away, then went to the curtains at the window and peeked out. Tony… She had a feeling there was a child within the man, a child afraid to reach out for love. And she didn’t know how to do anything but love him. Oh, Libby, you’re such a fool, she thought, letting the curtain fall shut again. Of all the men in the world, she had to be falling for a private detective whose personal demons made the men chasing them look tame. Damn, but sometimes life was incredibly unfair.
* * *
They ate dinner in silence, then cleaned up the dishes and put them away. “I’m going outside to look around,” Tony said when they were finished. She nodded, almost grateful for his absence. There was a tension between them that she couldn’t seem to dismiss, one that nothing seemed to dispel.
After he was gone, she went into the bathroom. She might as well get ready for bed. Hopefully they would get up early the next morning and get back on the road to solving this whole mess.
After her shower, she pulled her sleep shirt on. Perhaps it would be best if she was already in bed and asleep before he came back. Maybe that would ease the awkwardness of another night spent together in the intimate confines of the bed.
She got beneath the sheets and waited for sleep to overtake her. She’d just about drifted off when she heard the click of the door unlocking. “Libby?” he called softly in the darkness.
She didn’t answer. Instead she didn’t move, feigning sleep. She relaxed as he went into the bathroom and started the water in the shower. Her body tensed in anticipation as moments later she heard the shower stop, and she waited breathlessly for him to join her. She’d felt the sexual tension between them all day long, and now she sensed an explosion in the air, an explosion that seemed as inevitable as morning following this night.
He came out of the bathroom and even in the darkness she could feel the sudden energy crackling. She held her breath as he eased into bed next to her. She didn’t move, knowing an accidental touch would destroy the tenuous control she had left.
She was aware of his breathing, not the deep, regular patterns of a sleeping man, but rather the short, shallow breaths that spoke of suppressed emotions. We should be sleeping, preparing for tomorrow and whatever danger it might bring, she thought. But how could she close her eyes and sleep with him lying so close to her, his heat surrounding her, enveloping her?
“Libby?”
She didn’t know whether to answer him or not, but she had a feeling he knew she wasn’t sleeping. “Yes?” she answered, surprised at the dryness of her mouth.
“Truth or dare?”
Again she hesitated, afraid to answer…afraid not to. “Truth,” she whispered. She could feel his tension and her body reacted with a tension of its own.
“If I tried to make love to you right now…would you stop me?”
“No.” The word seeped out of her on a breath of air that was caught in his mouth as he kissed her. His lips were hot, insistent, plundering hers with a hunger that overwhelmed her.
As his lips worked to devour hers, his hands slowly moved up the inside of her T-shirt, stopping to reverently caress the fullness of her breasts.
At the touch of his hands, Libby moaned into his mouth and arched herself against him, wanting to be closer, wanting to lose herself completely in the passion that exploded between them.
Tony wanted to take his time, to savor the sweet silkiness of her skin, the taste of her mouth. But as she sat up and pulled her T-shirt over her head, then beckoned for him to do the same, he knew there was no way he could control himself enough to take it slow and easy. He’d been beyond slow and easy before he’d even touched her.
He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, gasping as her fingers immediately danced across his bare chest, raising hundreds of goose bumps of pleasure.
His mouth slowly nibbled down the length of her neck, licking and reveling in the small gasps and moans of pleasure she emitted. He wanted to pleasure her fully, he wanted to take her with him as he rode the tide to fulfillment. He wanted her to feel the same things he felt…and oh, was he feeling. His blood surged powerfully in his veins, and his heart thudded erratically. Every nerve ending in his body sang in anticipation.
She moaned again as his hungry mouth fastened on her breast, caressing and rolling the turgid nipple with the tip of his tongue. She tasted of honey and wine and forbidden fruit, and he feasted on her flavor, insatiable as an alcoholic drinking whiskey.
As he feasted on the sweet fullness of her breast, his fingers slid teasingly beneath the waistband of her panties. She felt her quickened breath, her heart flutter dangerously fast. Slowly he pulled the wisp of silk over her hips and down the length of her legs. Once she was completely bare to his touch, he took off his own jockey shorts, wanting her to feel the power and strength of his desire.
Then it was his turn to gasp and cry out in surprise as she took him in her hot hand, stroking him gently with butterfly caresses, forcing him to fight for control.
She moved beneath him, placing her hands on the broad expanse of his back, beckoning him to move over her, into her. With a throaty groan, he slid into her warmth, trembling violently at the exquisite sensation of velvety heat. For a moment he didn’t move, simply remained buried in her glorious fire, afraid that he would shatter into a million pieces and it would all be over before it had truly begun.
Slowly he moved within her, closing his eyes as ripples of pulsating pleasure swept through him. She met his thrusts eagerly and her hands clawed at his back as if trying to pull him completely inside her.
His movements took on a frenzy as he buried himself deep and hard within her, and she met him with a frenzy of her own.
And suddenly she was there, and he was there with her. As she cried out, her body quivering, Tony shook with the explosion of his own release. He gasped and clung to her tightly, reluctant to let the feelings end. He’d never felt this way before, he’d never felt the sensations he felt at this very moment. And he was terrified that he would never experience them again.