Every Breath She Takes (27 page)

“I’m a vet,” she reminded him. “I can help. You said you had to pregnancy-check cows, vaccinate, that sort of thing.”

“Lauren, I can’t afford liability insurance; I sure as hell can’t afford to keep a veterinarian in the field.”

“Who said you had to pay me? I’ll work for my keep.”

A flare of something that looked like hope blazed in his eyes for an instant, but he shuttered it quickly. Raising an eyebrow, he gave her a skeptical look.

“A busman’s holiday?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Why not? Frankly, I was getting bored. There’s only so much leisure a working girl can take.”

He laughed. Relieved, she laughed with him.

“Okay, that’d work for me, if your practice can spare you.”

Lauren’s smile dimmed when she remembered her phone message earlier today. When she’d gone back to call Bruce, she’d learned that Peter Markham, the young vet covering her practice, was getting antsy. According to Heather, he’d talked about hanging out his own shingle. Not that Lauren blamed him. He wanted to build rapport with his own clients, not someone else’s. God only knew how long she could hold onto him. If he left, she’d have to lay Heather off. She’d lose clients. Her practice would suffer.

Unless she went back herself.

No.
The answer came as strong as it was instantaneous. She couldn’t go back, not until Marlena was safe. She wouldn’t be plunged into that hell again. She’d already failed too many times,
too many victims. And God only knew how many more visions were in store, how many more people she’d never be able to help because she couldn’t identify them—or their would-be killers—in time to intervene. But this time, the victim was right here. And if she failed this time, she’d lose more than a few clients. She’d lose another piece of her soul.

Shivering, she took a step closer to Cal and slid an arm around his waist. His arms came around her instantly.

“What were those steps again?” she asked him.

“I don’t know. Shower, smoke, and a drink, I think.”

“Any chance of doing them at my cabin?”

“That depends.”

She leaned back to look at him. “On what?”

“On whether or not you’ll join me for step one.”

The shower.
Despite the gut-churning sense of impending doom that had hovered over her since Harvey had ridden up with Marlena, Lauren’s blood heated. “Just try and stop me.”

An hour later, Cal lay in Lauren’s bed, chest to chest, knee to knee, stroking her damp skin while their racing hearts slowed.

After the shared shower, he’d skipped the whiskey and the smoke, fully intending to use her body to work off his paralyzing fear of failure and the anger that was its companion. He’d thought to give vent to it in a vigorous physical joining, but their lovemaking had been different this time, edged with a new dimension. For once the desperate physical hunger was supplanted by more tender emotions.

Not that he hadn’t come at her with desperate hunger. He’d sought to inhale her, devour her in his greed. But she’d met his desperation with such generosity and something else—some soft, almost sorrowful quality beyond his experience. It had been
his undoing. And somehow, magically, he’d been purged of his demons.

She sighed and settled herself against him, and he shifted to accommodate her long limbs.
Perfect
, he thought. She fit him perfectly and had from the first.

He nuzzled the fine, smooth skin of her forehead, and she made an appreciative noise into his neck, which made him smile.

Damn, how could he feel this good? His world was falling apart. The guest ranch business was as good as dead thanks to whoever leaked that article. Without guest revenues, it was just a matter of time before he lost the ranch itself.

He jammed the brakes on that thought. Tomorrow, and hard reality, would come soon enough. He’d worry about it all then.

Cal pulled the covers over their cooling bodies, trying to ignore the sudden suspicion that there might be worse things in life than failing to best his father or losing the ranch.

Like losing this.

His hand tightened on Lauren’s hip bone. She turned her face up to his, pale eyes searching, and he lowered his lids quickly, catching her lips with his. An eternity later, he lifted his head again. This time he didn’t bother to veil his eyes. The exquisite delicacy of the kiss had given him away.

Reverence.
That was it, the quality he’d felt in her soft hands and in the brush of her dark hair across his skin. And now he felt it in his own fingertips, right down to the bone. He traced her collarbone with hands that felt newly made and watched her pale skin flush with fresh arousal. When he used his mouth to follow the path his fingers had taken, she cried out.

“Cal?” Her voice held a question, and she tried to arch up.

“Shsssh,” he hushed her, urging her down. “Just feel this, baby. Just feel for me, will you?”

A sob tore from her throat, but she subsided. He skimmed her rib cage lightly, fingers stroking, arousing, loving. With hands and mouth and body, he worshiped her, praising her
responsiveness as he took her to the limits of her senses and beyond. When he finally joined with her, it was like a prayer, each thrust and slide carrying them closer to total communion.

Only when she’d found a deep, shuddering release did he allow himself to be hurled over the edge into a terrifying, thrilling free fall the like of which he’d never known.

When his world righted itself again, Lauren clung to him with a desperation he knew was echoed in his own fierce embrace.

Whoa, Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.

It was the light that woke her, streaming in through the curtains. Way too much light. She sat up.
Eight o’clock.

Cal was gone. The pillow next to her still bore the indentation of his head but the sheets were cold.

Lauren sucked in a disbelieving gasp. He’d left without her? And after agreeing last night to let her ride with them.

Last night. Her irritation at being left behind was pierced by a spurt of pure wonder as she remembered last night. They’d come together again and again, hands skimming faces as though they’d discovered some new kind of Braille.

She threw off the covers and padded to the kitchen. That’s where she found his note, anchored to the counter by a bag of freshly ground coffee beans.

Decided to hang around today after all and wait for Dysan’s call, but I had to give the men their marching orders. Didn’t have the heart to wake you. Meet me for breakfast? I’ll come drag you out if you’re not there by 8:30.

No, on second thought, I’ll phone. If I come over there, we might starve to death.

She grinned foolishly at that. He’d signed it simply,
C.

She studied the note while she waited for her caffeine fix. His handwriting surprised her. It was strong, as she’d known it
would be, but she hadn’t expected the elegance. She slipped the note into the pocket of her robe. He was full of surprises.

Like the way he made love to her last night…

The coffeemaker sputtered as it finished. Smiling, she filled her mug. Lord, how she loved the way he touched her—carnal and demanding one moment, soft and solemn the next.

Her smile faded. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t his touch she loved; she was hopelessly in love with the man himself.

And if she even hinted at the way she felt, he’d drop her like something one of the barn cats dragged in. They’d made a bargain—just sex. What had Cal said?
No happily-ever-after.

She bit her lip. Problem was it
felt
like more than sex. Lauren knew that was her own emotion coloring her perception, not any sudden change in Cal. He wanted her, no doubt about it. She was pretty sure he respected her, even liked her. Maybe a lot. But he didn’t love her. He’d never allow himself to love anyone.
Thank you, Zane Taggart. Thank you, Marlena.

Of course, the fact that this relationship had no future was the only reason she’d permitted herself to embark on it. If she thought for one moment that Cal’s heart was at risk, she wouldn’t have let him seduce her. It wouldn’t have been fair. Not when she’d kept so much of herself from him, beginning with the fact that she was here under false pretenses and ending with the fact that she was plagued by psychic visions of murders that she’d so far been helpless to prevent. How would he react to knowing that she’d watched Marlena die four times now in her latest vision? Not well, she was certain.

And good God, he still thought she wrote
erotica
in her spare time.

She took a gulp of the coffee, hoping to swallow down her guilt, but gasped and sputtered as the too-hot liquid burned its way down her esophagus.

Maybe she should pull back, try to inject some emotional distance back into the relationship. Despite the fact that her heart screamed
no
, she forced herself to consider the option.

She had no idea how much time they had left. She could be gone tomorrow or in a week’s time. What was the point of getting in any deeper? The smart thing would be to withdraw now.

Intellectually she saw the sense of it, but knew with a sinking heart that she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. These few nights they’d had together weren’t going to be nearly enough to sustain her. She needed much more. And from now on, she’d memorize every look, every touch, every word.

As she dumped her coffee, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sink. She looked like hell, all sad eyes and worried forehead. She’d better shower and pull herself together or Cal would take one look at her and head for the hills.

Lauren walked into the dining room and Cal’s breath stalled. He put his mug down with a clunk. She looked the same, yet so much more. Her long-legged stride, which never failed to drive him crazy, was more confident. Sexier. Even her short hair looked carelessly sexy this morning. The kicker, though, was her face. She should have looked tired—he’d lost count of the number of times he’d reached for her in the night—but she was luminous, her bottomless blue eyes lit from the inside.

“Save any breakfast for me?”

With a start, he realized he’d risen to his feet. To cover his confusion, he smiled. “More than you can possibly handle.” He gestured to the covered dishes on the table. “I guess it’ll take a while for Delia to adjust to cooking small.”

She slid into the chair on his left. He sat too, seizing the opportunity to pass off his standing as courtliness rather than the instinctive move toward her that it was. The moment she’d entered the room, he’d yearned toward her, wanting to claim her with his hands, brand her with his kiss. He’d wanted the whole world to know he’d put that swing in her hips.

“I thought you’d left without me this morning, until I found your note,” she said as she filled her plate with fluffy scrambled eggs. “Want some?”

He nodded, and she proceeded to heap his plate. “I said you could ride out with us and I meant it, but I figured we’d better hang in for Dysan’s call.”

“Good idea.” She lifted the dome from another plate and helped herself to crisp, thick bacon.