Kiss Me (Fool's Gold series) (12 page)

She sucked in a breath. “We have no way of knowing that. You know how kids exaggerate. Besides, that’s not our responsibility. We’re here to make sure they have fun and stay safe. They’re doing both.”

She braced herself for Thad’s response, but he surprised her by not saying anything. In a way, his refusal to remind her that children were everyone’s responsibility made her feel empty inside. As if he had finally figured out there was no point in trying to convince her that adopting any child would be better than having no child at all.

He’d never understood, no matter how many times she’d explained. He was softhearted and she... C.J. handed him the towel, then started back toward camp. She wasn’t sure what she was. Of course she felt badly that Lucy and Tommy seemed unhappy in their foster home. She wasn’t a complete bitch. But their unhappiness had nothing to do with her. It wasn’t her fault, and she was in no position to fix the situation. She couldn’t fix anything—certainly not herself.

Thad caught up with her and touched her arm. She stopped walking but refused to look at him. Instead she stared at the bright green leaves on the tree next to them, then at the patterns and colors of brown making up the bark.

“C.J.?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, then gave in because she’d loved him from the first moment she’d seen him back in college. She opened her eyes and stared at his face.

He smiled gently, then brushed her cheek with his fingers.

His gentleness, his compassion, made her throat ache.

“I wonder if we could figure out the actual odds of there being something wrong with both of us,” she said bitterly. “Is there some statistical table we could consult to find out the mathematical impossibility of our situation? It’s so unfair. Why couldn’t it just be one of our faults? I want someone to blame, even if it was me.”

He slipped his hand to the back of her neck and drew her close. “There’s no fault in any of this.”

“There should be.”

“Blaming won’t help. It’s just one of those things.”

She pressed her face into his shoulder and inhaled the familiar scent of him. Soap, fabric softener and that indefinable essence that would allow her to pick him out in a crowd, even if she was blindfolded.

“You’re so reasonable,” she whispered.

“Is that bad?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I just want to scream and pout and be unreasonable. Sometimes I think I won’t stay sane any other way.”

“You’re fine,” he assured her, then kissed her forehead.

Fine. She felt a lot of things, but none of them were fine.

A loud shriek of laughter followed by a splash made her step back. Irritation flared in her like an out-of-control bonfire.

“They’re in the water. I told them to stay out of the water, but of course they didn’t listen.”

Thad smiled. “They’re kids. It’s their job to do things like play in streams.”

“The water’s freezing. They’ll get sick.”

“They’ll dry and be fine.”

He headed toward the sounds, his steps eager, as if he wanted to be with those two children. C.J. walked the other way.

She knew it was wrong, she knew it made her heartless and cold, but she couldn’t seem to be around those children without wanting to yell at them. There was an anger festering deep inside. It fed on her like a parasite. Sometimes the rage woke her up in the night, and sometimes she was afraid.

While the cause was clear, the exorcism was not. Maybe because sometimes she thought the anger was the only thing keeping her alive. Without it, she would be completely empty. But was a life of anger and resentment any way to live? What had happened to the bright, happy, caring woman who had married Thad? When had her heart turned hard and dark? And when had she stopped caring about their future?

* * *

P
HOEBE
TILTED
HER
arm toward her to check the time, then remembered that her watch was gone, a casualty of her own citiness and the inquisitive nature of raccoons.

Zane said they were moving out in ten minutes. She figured she would hear everyone mounting up, and until then, she would keep moving.

Feeling had returned to her butt, and with it came the promise of stiffness in the night. Phoebe glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then rubbed her hands against her fanny. Unused muscles had a way of letting her know when they’d been pushed too far. She had a feeling that by the end of the week, she would have a greater appreciation for her sensible office chair back at work.

“Except I’m not returning to work,” she reminded herself aloud. “Not for another couple of weeks after I get back.”

She didn’t want to think about that so she quickened her pace. As she circled around the next cluster of trees, she saw the herd of cattle clumped together.

Maya had said there were only fifty or so, but Phoebe would have sworn there were at least twice that number. So many heads and hooves, so many colors. She would have thought steers were all brown, but these were different shades, ranging from beige to black.

A few of them glanced up when she approached, but most ignored her. Maya had complained about the smell, but Phoebe didn’t mind it. The scent was more appealing than being caught in traffic on the San Diego freeway and then rolling down her window.

She was admiring a very dark brown steer when one of the animals broke from the pack and headed toward her. The steer was big, with dark eyes, a half-bitten ear and a bell slung around its neck. She wasn’t sure if it was going to charge or anything, so she took a step back. The animal kept on coming. Before she could decide if she should run or not, it reached her.

She froze in place, part terrified, part curious. The steer seemed to look her up and down, then it sniffed the front of her shirt.

“Hey, girl,” Phoebe said tentatively. She slowly reached out her hand and lightly brushed the soft hairs above the steer’s nose. The steer snorted once, then stretched its head down to pull at the bright green grass at Phoebe’s feet.

“Huh. Are we friends now?”

The steer didn’t answer.

She decided to take the silence as a yes. “So are you enjoying the cattle drive? Do you like the exercise?”

She patted the animal’s neck, then bent down to examine the bell more closely. As she did, she happened to glance at the animal’s tummy and realized “it” wasn’t a girl. Nor was it all male.

She winced in sympathy. “That had to hurt. But I’m sure you were really young when that happened and don’t remember much.” At least she hoped he didn’t. Something told her the removal of his testicles hadn’t taken place in a vet’s office.

“This is my first time on a cattle drive,” she said. “My first time on a real horse. Rocky is really nice. Do you like horses?”

Phoebe knew it was silly to be talking to a steer, but she had to talk to someone. There was always Maya, but as most of Phoebe’s thoughts were about Zane, and her friend was his ex-stepsister, the situation was complicated.

“I guess the real problem is that I’m attracted to Zane,” she told the steer. “Some of it is he’s really good-looking and some of it is...” She paused to try to figure it out. “I’m not sure. A chemical reaction maybe? Destiny?”

The last word surprised her. Destiny? She didn’t believe in that. People weren’t fated to be together. She’d never wanted to believe that life happened according to a plan, because that meant some force had wanted her to grow up without a family of her own—without someone to love her. Could the universe really be that cruel?

“So I really can’t explain it,” she told the steer. “Still, he’s very nice. Zane, I mean. And a good rancher. Maya told me that. I don’t think he likes the goats much. They were cute, except they bite. Did you know that?”

She suddenly caught a glimpse of large bovine teeth and took a step back. Baby goat nibbles had startled her. If this big guy wanted to take a go at her, he could probably chomp off her hand. She carefully tucked her fingers into her back pockets and continued the conversation.

“At first I didn’t think he was very friendly. But he’s sort of started talking to me, which I like. I think he feels alone, too, so we have that in common.” And he’d kissed her which she wasn’t going to mention to the steer. “But I think he figures I’m an idiot. Which I’m not. I’m from LA. It’s not like I grew up knowing how to do all this ranch stuff.”

“Does he answer back?”

Phoebe gasped, then spun around, only to find Zane on his horse, Tango. The two of them were right behind her.

She felt the instant flush of heat on her cheeks as embarrassment flooded her. She wanted to throw herself in front of the herd and be trampled. She wanted to ask how much of her muddled, one-sided conversation he’d heard.

But Zane’s dark blue eyes were unreadable, nor did he offer the information.

She cleared her throat and tried to smile. “He, um, isn’t much for conversation. Are we heading out?”

Zane nodded. “Rocky’s waiting.” He turned Tango back the way they’d come, then paused and glanced at her over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t mention this to Rocky,” he said, jerking his head at the steer. “You don’t want your horse getting jealous.”

Phoebe’s mouth dropped open. Fortunately Zane was moving away and didn’t notice. Wow. He’d been humorous. And charming.

“Did you see that?” she asked the steer. “Maybe he doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot. Isn’t that the best?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

C
ANVAS
WAS
NOT
generally a fabric Phoebe thought of as confining, but when it was sewn into the shape of a tent and wrapped around her body, she started having second thoughts. Somehow she’d thought there would be more room. But her sleeping space was barely wide enough for her sleeping bag. Her saddlebags were pressed up against the wall, and her duffel fit down by her feet. A tent for one was not a place for a party.

There was also the issue of the ground. Perhaps if she’d thought it through, she might have considered that earth was, by nature, hard. Very hard. It was the kind of hardness that defied even an air mattress which, by the way, squeaked when she moved on it.

Then there was the whole outdoors thing. It was all much...bigger than she’d ever thought. Bigger and maybe a little scary, but in a good way. In an exciting, I’m-so-alive way.

She shifted on her sleeping bag, not yet ready to crawl into it and sleep. She was tired but also surprisingly alert. And tingly. There had been wine with dinner.

She was a pretty cheap date, with a single glass making her giggly and a second giving her a buzz. She’d downed her limit of two and still felt the delightful sense of blurriness that softened the crueler edges of the world into something beautiful and appealing. The two glasses of wine were also responsible for her need to go use nature’s restroom.

Phoebe sat up and immediately bumped her head on the roof of her tent. After feeling around for her boots, she found them and pulled them on. She was still wearing her light jacket, so all she needed was a flashlight, and she was set.

The second she stepped out of her tent she became aware of the noise. There were hoots and clicks and rustles and swishes. Over to her left she could see the remnants of Cookie’s fire, carefully contained within a ring of stones. To her right were the other tents. Low conversation drifted to her, although she couldn’t make out the words.

She clicked on her flashlight, then headed away from the camp. After a few minutes of walking, she did what she’d come to do and headed back. She stepped around a tree and ran smack-dab into something big, hard and unyielding and she dropped her flashlight.

Even as panic ripped through her, an essential part of her being recognized Zane.

“Out looking for your watch?”

There wasn’t enough light for her to see the details of his face. He was all shadows and outlines, a quick stroke of a man who made her body long to surrender.

“I’ve let it go,” she said.

“That’s probably wise.”

She told herself she should head back to her tent, or maybe just bend down and pick up her flashlight. But she couldn’t seem to move. Breathing was as much as she could manage.

She shivered, but not from the cold. Was it anticipation? What was it about the night, or was it just the man? Did he know?

“Zane?”

She had no idea what she was asking or what he might answer. Yet she liked the sound of his name. She liked saying the word and having it fill her mouth with its strength.

“It’s late,” he said. “You should probably be in bed.”

She didn’t know what to say. However she might want to believe that was an invitation, she had her doubts. Still, a girl could dream.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“Okay.”

She waited for him to take a step, or to bend down and pick up her flashlight. Then he did bend, but not toward the ground. Instead he bent just enough to brush her mouth with his.

The soft, gentle contact took her breath away. Warmth flowed through her like a sigh. His hands settled on her waist at the exact second she raised herself on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. She tilted her head as he angled his. Her mouth parted just as his tongue swept along the seam.

The first taste of him made her want to moan as he explored her, delighting her with every caress. She arched against him, wanting to feel his hardness against her curves, his strength surrounding her. Their kiss was all hot surrender. Need burned through her body, making her breasts swell as her nipples tightened in anticipation.

He kissed her deeply, sucking on her tongue when she darted into his mouth. His big hands slipped from her waist to her rear where he rubbed and squeezed. The movements both aroused her nerve endings and soothed the sore muscles. She groaned.

He raised his head. “You like that?”

The unexpected question blanked out her brain. It took her a second to catch up.

“Well, um, yeah. It feels good because you’re touching me and because I was on a horse all day.”

Apparently he was done talking because he didn’t respond to her comment. At least not with words. When she’d finished speaking, he lowered his head so that he could kiss the side of her neck. Phoebe had never considered that much of an erogenous zone, but then she’d never had Zane pressing his damp lips against her skin. Nor had he ever licked the suddenly sensitive skin or nipped right below her ear.

Goose bumps broke out all over her body. She wanted him to keep doing that kissing, nipping, licking thing pretty much everywhere. If he could make her feel that delicious with just a few kisses on her neck, imagine what he could accomplish on bare breasts and—

She froze. His hands had moved from her backside to the button of her jeans.

Okay. The kisses were good. Better than good. They were extraordinary, but this was a little fast. They were outside. She wasn’t sure she knew him that well.

But before she could figure out exactly how to explain that they’d exceeded her comfort level, two things happened. The first was that he drew her earlobe into his mouth and sucked. It didn’t sound like much. Had someone described the event to her she would have been mildly impressed, but not overly so. However, having it actually happen was very different.

The combination of his teeth gently grating on her skin and his tongue flicking back and forth was the most erotic experience of her life. A sad statement on her sexual experiences, but still true. At that point, ground or no ground, she was willing to go all the way.

The second thing that happened was that Zane slid his hands inside her panties. Yup, those big, warm, manly man hands were right up against bare skin. But instead of slipping between her thighs, he moved his hands over her behind and dug his fingers into sore muscles.

It was heaven. Pure and simple paradise. Even as he kissed his way along her neck, his palms circled, his fingers kneaded, and she sent up the white flag of surrender.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, meaning both the kisses and the massage. It wasn’t supposed to be this good. They weren’t even doing anything that bad and yet she was melting from the inside out.

He shifted slightly and returned his mouth to hers. She reached for his head and dug her fingers into his hair. She kissed him with a franticness that defied reason. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. Intensely so. The sensations were beyond believing.

The sound of laughter cut through the night. Phoebe tensed slightly, suddenly aware of their surroundings. Zane must have heard it as well, because his hands stilled, and he broke their kiss.

Reason returned and she wanted to wince. Had she really begged him not to stop?

“I, um, want to tell you—” She broke off, not sure what she wanted to say to him.

She looked at his face, but the night was too dark for her to be able to see what he was thinking. Besides, how was she supposed to think when the man’s hands were still down her pants?

“I have to know,” he murmured.

Know? Know what?

Before she could ask, he moved his right hand across her hip to her belly, then slipped it down between her legs. His fingers slipped across slick, swollen flesh. They both sucked in a breath.

He pulled his hand free and carefully zipped and buttoned her jeans.

About fourteen thousand questions flashed through her brain, but she settled for the most important one.

“What did you have to know?”

“That you wanted it, too.”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his crotch. She had a good idea of what she would find there, but even so, the thickness, length and hardness of his erection made her want to whimper.

All righty, then. They both liked the kissing and touching. An interesting fact that should have absolutely no bearing on their lives. Really.

“Go to bed, Phoebe,” he said.

She had a feeling he meant by herself.

Zane bent down and collected her flashlight, which he pressed into her hand. Then he turned her in what she guessed was the direction of the camp and gave her a little push. She felt dazed. As if she’d just been given laughing gas, and some kind of potent sex drug. She felt giddy and giggly and light enough to float. Zane Nicholson might not be big on conversation, but the man obviously knew his way around the bedroom...not to mention her body. She couldn’t wait for morning, when she got to tell Rocky all about it.

* * *

Z
ANE
WAS
UP
before sunrise, mostly because he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours. He told himself the reason was his concern over the greenhorns in his care, which was about 60 percent true. The other 40 percent had a whole lot more to do with a big-eyed brunette with full lips that could drive a man to insanity and back with a single kiss.

He finished storing his gear and stood in the quiet morning. He was tired, on edge and horny. His body ached, his mind raced and he couldn’t stop thinking about how Phoebe had felt in his arms mere hours before. Intense longing gripped him. He did his best to remind himself that wanting her had nothing to do with liking her. He didn’t know her, although he would admit what he did know, he liked.

He sighed. A man shouldn’t have to deal with women or even sex before coffee.

He headed toward the cook fire. Cookie already had a pot bubbling. Zane poured himself a mug, then gulped down two mouthfuls of the steaming liquid. Heat and caffeine jolted his system.

The old man shuffled around from the side of the wagon. “We’re having eggs this morning,” Cookie announced. “Hell if I know if them tree huggers are gonna eat. I made pancakes yesterday, but we’re on the trail. I’m not Emeril Lagasse. I can only do what I can do.”

Zane drank more coffee. “Don’t sweat it. Andrea will eat when she gets hungry enough. Martin, too, although he seems like less trouble than his wife.”

Cookie grinned. “Less like a pain in the ass, you mean.”

“They’re our guests,” Zane reminded him warningly.

“That don’t change what they are.” He set down the big fry pan he’d been carrying and held up both hands. “I’ll be good.”

Zane didn’t believe that for a second, but he hoped Cookie would at least keep his opinions to himself.

Fifteen minutes later, everyone was up and moving around the camp. Zane sent Chase to make sure no tent poles or stakes were left behind. Involuntarily, he found himself glancing over at Phoebe’s tent, as if he were waiting for her to appear. When the flaps finally opened, he was rewarded for his patience in a big way. She chose to back out.

That perfect, curved fanny he’d been fondling the previous night wiggled into sight, followed by the rest of her. The hand not holding the coffee mug curled slightly as he remembered the feel of her bare skin against his palm and the sound of her rapid breathing. She’d been hot, ready and wet. When he’d slid his fingers between her legs, it had been like going home. Under other circumstances, namely them being alone, he would have lowered her to the ground and eased both their aches. As it was, he’d been left to wonder if she’d had as much trouble sleeping.

He drained his mug and took a step toward her. But before he could get there, Chase appeared.

His younger brother grinned at Phoebe, then took her saddlebags from her and slung them over his shoulder.

“So you’re one of those special women who looks even more beautiful in the outdoors,” Chase said with a wink. “I should have guessed.”

Phoebe laughed. “Maya already warned me that you shamelessly flatter women and that it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sometimes that’s true, but in this case, I’m simply stating the obvious.”

Zane turned back to the fire and poured himself another cup of coffee. Chase’s ability to charm the opposite sex was an innate talent, like being good at math or having a great singing voice. Most of the time Zane found his brother’s machinations amusing. But not this morning. Instead something dark swirled inside of him. He wasn’t jealous—that would imply an interest in Phoebe that wasn’t there. Besides, Chase’s talk was cheap. But he couldn’t seem to make the twisting go away, nor could he find a reason to move to the far side of camp.

“How’d you sleep?” Chase asked.

“Okay. Everyone talks about how quiet it is in the wilderness at night, but I thought there was a ton of noise.”

Zane wanted to turn around and look at Phoebe’s face as she spoke, but he forced himself to stay by the fire.

“Ready to take your tent down?” his brother asked.