Slow Fever (10 page)

Michael closed his lips. His outburst had shattered him. He should have presented his thoughts in a better arrangement, and not laced with the elemental sensual desire rocketing through his veins and lodging hot and hard in his body. Kylie should have smooth, romantic words, logically placed to make her feel attractive.

Kylie spoke breathlessly. “Wow. You see me like that? Even on a bad hair day?”

He thought about how he wanted to bury his face in Kylie’s silky soft curls, how he wanted it to flow over his body as they made love, giving to one another. He pushed those words back into his heart and was grateful for the shadows covering his embarrassed flush. How could he explain how he felt when he was with her, like the world was new and good and would go on forever? How could he tell her how silky her skin ran beneath his fingers? How could he tell her how he might feel if his child were nestling in her body and dreams really did come true? A woman should have romantic words to please her, and Michael’s were stored tightly in his heart, glowing there like sunshine. She was his first love and she frightened him—his emotions frightened him. Fear wasn’t an emotion that sat easily upon Michael Cusack, tough lone-wolf guy. “You’re okay,” he murmured finally.

Kylie watched him with interest, her eyes silvery in the night. She licked her lips and the sensual jolt slammed into Michael’s body. The seductive feminine waves she emitted now were enveloping and tugging him erotically as she whispered, “I don’t think there is anything more exciting than you right now, right here. You seem all quivery, as though your antennae are shifting and sparking like a lightning rod on a barn just waiting for a big bolt to hit. You look as if one touch would set you off.”

“Maybe. From you, just maybe. I’m beginning to doubt my past experiences with zapping. You present a new concept of the word. Let us not talk about rods and big bolts. I’d like to hear more about your overcharged generators and how you get all melty inside. I’ve got some concept—working with electricity as I do—how electric jolts can zap and melt. But I can’t come home with you tonight, sweetheart,” Michael stated darkly. “And this is why.”

Kylie met Michael’s hot open mouth with her own, grab
bing his shoulders to keep him anchored to her, her fingers digging into all the fine, hard muscle. His body flexed as he tore off his shirt and undershirt, tossing them away as the kiss deepened, slanted, tongues enticing, suckling.

She’d never been held like this, desired like this—with hunger and yet with tenderness. She’d never wanted like this. “Michael…” she heard herself sigh over the pounding beat of her blood.

The dancing of her heart, the center of her body heating, quivering, all seemed just the right symphony with Michael’s taste, promising a gift she’d always wanted. She nibbled on his lips, frantically keeping him close as he eased away her jacket.

The rough intake of his breath was just what she wanted to hear as he swept away her sweatshirt to leave her unbound breasts exposed to his gaze. His hands trembled as they slowly moved to cover her, cupping her. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Perfect.”

When his head lowered, his lips pressing against the softness, Kylie cried out, holding him tight against her. His open mouth suckled gently, tightening the heated cords running throughout her body, weakening her knees. The textures of his rough skin, the lick of his tongue, the gentle pressure of his teeth tore through her.

“Hold me, Michael,” she whispered against his hair. “Hold me hard against you.”

He gently treated her other breast before straightening and easing her body against his. The cords and muscles of his body melded hotly against her softer one, and the sensation was perfect as Michael’s caresses lowered to her bottom. Then he tugged the knot at her sweatpants waistband, loosening it and her pants fell to her ankles, leaving her body without the shield of underclothing.

Michael’s hands cupped her bottom instantly, fingers
slightly squeezing, and his voice was raw and uneven against her throat. He stared blankly at her bare stomach, the juncture at her thighs and his breath seemed to shatter even as it hit the air between them. “Kylie. Kylie? Aren’t you missing something?”

Everything was right in place and aching. “Laundry,” she explained hurriedly, not wanting to break his lovely concentration, his hunger. “I was doing laundry before going to your house, so I took them off and dropped them in the washer. I’ve been working so hard that I’m behind in housework.”

He breathed unevenly, his hands cupping her bottom tightly. His violent pulse rocketed against her lips as he trembled. He muttered something as though he were helpless. Then he sighed roughly as if giving up the battle and one hand slid to press against her stomach. His touch lowered to cup her, gently invading and Kylie held very still adjusting to the unique smoothing of his fingers. He supported her weight, giving her pleasure— “Michael?”

“Kylie. No. You should have—”

“You. I want you. Now.” She found the snap of his jeans and unable to open them, she cried out, “Help me, Michael.”

Over the layer of denim, her hand found him and Michael held very still. Then one touch of his hand sent her reeling, rocketing, tightening… She took the sensations into her, hoarding them, feasting upon the exquisite pleasure and letting it burn her without restraint until the fire gently died and she leaned against him, drained and floating and wonderful. She snuggled to Michael, her safe port in the storm, kissing his chest, inhaling his fragrance, smoothing his trembling body to keep him warm and close.

“Kylie?” Michael whispered against her ear.

“Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just hold me,” she returned, holding her pleasure close and tight inside.

“I’m taking you home.” Michael’s tone held amusement and as he eased her away from him, his hands trembled. His sweeping hot stare down her body pleased her.

Then, unused to the prolonged intensity, Kylie crossed her arm over her sensitive breasts. She lowered her other hand to conceal her femininity. “It’s rude to stare,” she whispered, her throat drying.

His eyes tore through the shadows, burning an upward path to hers, raising a prickling heat upon her skin. She breathed unevenly, willing him to come to her, to take what she had to offer. Unsteady, Michael said firmly, “That’s why I can’t go home with you.”

She’d just offered her heart and her body and her home, and he was tossing logic into the magic between them, tearing it apart.

“You don’t think I can manage this? That I don’t have control over my own—body?” She bent to jerk up her sweatpants and when her shaking hands failed to tie the waistband knot, Michael took over the task.

Holding her hand, he bent slowly to retrieve her sweatshirt. He stuffed her arms into it, and tugged it over her head as if she were a child. “I can almost hear you thinking, Michael,” Kylie whispered as he eased her arms into the sleeves of her jacket and zipped it closed as she would her heart. Her marriage to one man had been a lie. She’d given herself—all of herself too easily—not leaving enough to preserve her pride. With Michael, she intended to have honesty and her due as a woman.

“What am I thinking?” His tone was detached, cool, guarded, his expression hardening.

She watched him draw on his shirt. “That I’m Anna’s daughter, and Tanner and Miranda’s sister. That you’re go
ing to try to take care of me. I won’t have you on those terms. I want what runs true between us. I want magic and my dreams.”

“Mmm,” he murmured without confirming her statement. “What makes you think I can give you those?”

“You just can and you know it. You’re too mulish to admit that you have dreams, too.”

“Dreams are for the innocent. I’m not.”

He was retreating into his shields again, all that lovely heat and emotion slipping away. Kylie followed her instincts to keep him close and placed her hands on his cheeks. She spoke from her heart, out of desperation to keep him from his shadows. “I can’t bear to think of you here…that you’re here because of me. Come home with me, Michael. You can sleep in Tanner’s old room. It’s just a temporary situation.”

“‘A temporary situation,”’ he repeated thoughtfully. He smiled softly, and toyed with her hair, arranging it on her shoulders. “Across the hall from yours?”

“I’ll protect you from gossip, Michael.
You have to come home with me now.
” She had to claim him for her own, to keep him close.

“Are you saying you want to adopt me because I’m temporarily a man without a home, an orphan? Or are you saying you want to be with me?”

He’d torn apart her magic a moment ago, and this time she guarded her heart, giving him little to destroy. She’d have him on her terms, in good time. “Does it matter?”

From lips that had been soft and hungry against her skin and demanding, Michael’s words were harsh. “Call it.”

She didn’t want to be pushed, not after such heaven. “Be reasonable.”

“I’m feeling plenty—and none of it is reasonable, sweetheart.”

She searched his scowl, that muscle running taut and furious along his jaw. “It’s that ‘man’ thing, isn’t it? Oh, I wish I understood better.”

“It’s simple. I want to know where I stand.”

“Well, it isn’t sympathy, I can tell you that. You don’t deserve sympathy,” she tossed back hotly at him. “But I’ve got my pride, too, you know. I’ve caused you an inconvenience and I want to make it up. Neighbors do that here in Freedom Valley.”

“Is that all?” His words were dark and cutting in the night.

“No,” she answered truthfully. She followed her need to place herself in his care, to lean softly against him, to nestle her face against his warm throat. “There’s more.”

Michael tilted her face up to his. “Show me.”

The demand was soft, yet age old and she met his lips with truth and hunger. There was just that satisfying tensing of Michael’s body before he took her mouth with a passionate certainty that couldn’t be misunderstood.

On the ride home, seated upon Jack, Michael behind her, he slid his hand beneath her coat. He held her close and tight against him. He caressed her gently bobbing breasts as if touching her gave him pleasure and ease. She felt erotic, seductive, desired and at peace with being a woman who a man liked to touch. Then, when she’d turned to capture his wonderful mouth, to breathe that dark scent upon his skin, his touch had lowered to gently pleasure her again. Warm and limp, she slid from the saddle into his arms and he carried her into the house. At the foot of the stairs leading to her bedroom, he put her firmly away from him. “Good night, Kylie. Go to bed. I’ll unsaddle Jack and be in later.”

She’d had that much, those callused but tender hands giving her back a part of the magic she’d found earlier. She
treasured the taste of his mouth, the hard pounding of his heart, the desperate hunger for her leashed, and she vowed to tear it from him, to make it her own.

From her upstairs window, the lace curtain drawn aside, she watched him. Outlined in the moonlight, he’d been too alone, the cold wind whipping at him. She’d wanted to run to him, to give him her heart and hold him safe, but she knew he wouldn’t appreciate comfort now, not while he was fighting himself. She stood at the top of the stairs and waited, listening to him move through her mother’s house—the closing of a door, water running in the downstairs shower. It didn’t surprise her, as she waited, to hear him open her mother’s kitchen cabinet, and glass clinked as he poured bourbon kept to ease dark storms. Kylie knew then that Michael had likely visited her mother, and had been offered more than blackberry wine for comfort.

Kylie looked down at the man, dressed only in his jeans, at the bottom of the stairs. In the shadows, Michael met her gaze. The air shifted and tingled and prickled; with each breath her nipples dragged upon the rough inner texture of her sweatshirt reminding her of his caress, the need rocketing through them both. “Good night, Michael,” she whispered unevenly, glad for the sight of him standing there, when he could have ridden away. “You’ll be coming up to bed soon then.”

“I will.”

“I’ll have my dreams,” she said finally, to set him straight and leave no room for doubt between them.
And I’ll have you, my love,
she thought as she closed her bedroom door. She listened to the boards creak under his weight as he passed and prayed that in time he would learn to trust her with his heart.

Kylie awoke to the sound of birds chattering outside her window. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, and pleasured by the warm bloom within her, she stretched in her bed. She ran her fingertips across the fine delicate stitches of her quilt, and wiggled her toes against the daffodil splashed sheets. For the first time in years, her body was totally relaxed, her mind not leaping ahead into her day, planning what to do and how much time to allow for the task. Habit made her glance at the bedside clock she had turned facedown upon returning to Freedom Valley—she’d been conditioned to run on a minute-by-minute treadmill and she’d wanted freedom to think.

She placed her hand over her heart, and the heavy thump
told her that she wasn’t dreaming. Out of habit, and still half asleep, she yawned and stretched and padded to the upstairs shower, taking her time to shampoo and wallow in the jojoba and chamomile oil she had added to ordinary liquid soap. Just a drop of ylang ylang added sensuality, and today, she was definitely feeling like a woman. She hummed, the sound echoing her sense of well-being. Once again, she was in control of her life, harmony pouring through her like honey.
She was powerful and feminine and—

In her bedroom, Kylie studied the woman in the oval mirror and ran a fingertip across her lips, her body humming with the need to dive into Michael’s bed and feast upon him. But oh, no, she’d let him sleep and awake to a proper breakfast. He needed tending and time to adjust to being with her. She’d make the transition easy for him and instead of leaping into his bed, she’d wait—

The clatter of horses’ hooves echoed from her mother’s driveway. Kylie went to the window. For a moment she stood still, her warm floating well-being mood ripped away. Tanner and Michael rode in the lead, and behind them were Koby, Gabriel, York, Fletcher and all the rest. Michael’s head turned just then. Through the sunlight and the distance to her upstairs bedroom, his stare was as hard and grim as if he’d never touched her, never breathed unevenly against her skin, never held her as the tropical wind and heat swept through her.

He couldn’t do that—he couldn’t ignore what had just happened between them. He couldn’t ignore the storms between them, the way their souls seemed to touch. Kylie jerked open the window and yelled, “Michael! Stop!”

The cold morning air hit her body, and she realized that nothing covered her but her comfortable old flannel robe.
She jerked it together and called again, “Where are you going?”

“Town,” Tanner returned, but Michael continued to stare at her. Fear lurched through her, chilling her; his expression offered no warmth or future or dreams.

I’ll have my dreams,
she’d said. Michael still tasted her lips, too giving and warm, her body too yielding to his touch. She should have everything a woman in Freedom Valley would want of a man. His body was rigid with the need to ride back to her, to run up the stairs and carry her into town.

He’d stop gossip about Kylie by appearing before the Women’s Council, an emergency meeting arranged by Fidelity. He wanted the right to protect her against her user of an ex-husband. He’d let them know how he felt, dragging the words from his soul to serve them to the Council, the task difficult for him. Michael sucked in the cold morning air and circled his need to provide Kylie with the old-fashioned standards set long ago. Tradition weighed heavily in Freedom Valley, and Kylie had a right to take her place. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he was that old-fashioned, that romance prowled his heart when he thought of her.
If he were to make a fool of himself, he’d prefer to do it without the woman he loved watching him.

Unused to the emotions and moving too quickly without planning, Michael looked away from Kylie. He’d find a way to tell her, but not now, not with the need prowling through him to make his intentions known.

In traditionally based Freedom Valley, it was important for the man desiring a wife to make his heart known. However, to a man who lived privately, taking that step out of the shadows was difficult. Michael had shared little of his life with anyone and unused to sharing, he preferred to follow his instincts. He wanted nothing to interfere with his
plans to take that step, to face the women of the Council—including Kylie.

Foolish fear? Maybe. But this morning, he was out to set claim to his woman and his future. He was taking “The Leap.” Anything could set her off, challenging him, some minor point would cause an argument, and then the whole big beautiful morning dream would be shot to hell.

He wasn’t in a mood to have his dreams dissected or delayed. Every instinct in him told him this was right and logical, for a man to set claim to the woman he loved.

The morning was right. The woman was right. He’d find a way to tell her later, he thought, even as the word “coward” came slipping through him. He snorted in disgust at the word, and images of brawls and dangerous situations cut at him. Yet this one woman could make him tremble. A man had a right to romance on the morning he was publicly making known his intentions.

Michael scowled at Tanner, who was watching him. “She gets to me,” Michael said roughly and ignored the men’s laughter. “If I tell her what I’m doing, she’ll start a ruckus and I’m not in the mood for that this morning. I’ll tell her later.”

“You’ll have to do better than that at the Women’s Council,” her brother said, grinning. “But I know how it is when a woman is in a snit and you’ve got romance on your mind. She’ll have your scalp if she finds out before you tell her.”

Michael snorted again. “I’ll take my chances. I can’t tell how she’ll react to anything. Let’s just do this.”

Kylie dressed hurriedly, tying on her running shoes. She had to talk to Michael this morning, to know that Tanner hadn’t called him out. She couldn’t have them fighting, not her beloved brother and her—the man she wanted to take as her lover—Michael was already her friend.

He’d left her without an explanation. He couldn’t put up those walls again. Kylie sailed out of the house, jerking on her jacket as she ran. She took the path over the hill, the shortest route to Freedom. After a half-mile of realizing she was out of shape for distance running, and plotting how she would wrap her hands around his muscular neck and squeeze slowly, Kylie managed to call, “Michael!”

The other men’s horses nickered and stamped nervously as she pushed her way through the bushes to look up at Tanner and Michael. Neither man welcomed her, Tanner’s expression as cold and grim as Michael’s. “I won’t have you in this, Tanner,” she said.

“Won’t you?” His tone challenged her, gripped his right as her older brother to care for her.

“No.” She studied Michael, searching for bruises that Tanner’s angry fist might have made. Michael was freshly shaved, a nick just there on his cheek, and nothing about him was sweet and tender. This morning her razor had been damp and from the gleam on his cheeks and the tiny nicks, she knew he’d used it, probably snarling all the while. The sunlight struck his jutting cheekbone, skin gleaming upon the hard angle. Blue-black sparks danced on his hair, a glossy strand tossed by the slight cold breeze—or was that her heart freezing, accepting that he did not care enough to see her after last night? The cold morning air swept around her, lifted her hair away from her face. How could he touch her so beautifully and then ride away from her as if nothing had happened? “You’re wearing Tanner’s shirt. The one I gave him for his birthday and the tie I gave him for Christmas. Why?”

“My selection was limited this morning.” He shrugged and a searching glance at Tanner told her nothing. She flushed under the weight of his inspection, his little sister who had just spent the night yet again with Michael Cu
sack. She lifted her head and met his gaze, for she would have only truth between her brother and herself. He gave her nothing, no reassurance that he approved, though he would know that she held his love and thoughts dear.

“Where are you going?” She searched Michael’s face, the horses stamping around her, ready to be off. The steam from their nostrils shot into the chilly air as she searched the faces of the men she’d known all her life. They gave her nothing, the boys she had taunted and cherished and the men that she held dear as friends.

“To town,” Michael said finally as if he resented giving her the tidbit.

“To do what? Why are you all riding today and so early?” She fought to keep the panic from her voice and her eyes, and Michael’s gaze was too narrowed, green cutting at her, tearing at her heart.

She’ll destroy me,
Michael brooded.
She’ll stop me from doing what’s right, asking for her. I’ll find a way to tell her later.

“We’ve got business to keep,” Tanner stated abruptly and Michael slid a grateful look at him.

“So early? And Michael wearing a tie? When has he ever worn a tie? It’s one of yours. Why would he borrow your tie?” Terror twisted around her, choking her, as she searched Michael’s face. He looked away from her, sitting very straight in the saddle. She read the dark flush in his cheeks, that anger tightening his beautiful mouth. He wasn’t answering her, believing he owed her nothing.

Oh, there are rules and there are rules,
she thought darkly, her anger growing by the heartbeat, welling over her.
You show me beauty, and then you deny doing so?

Tanner was kinder, her brother who had always cared for her. “Go back to the house, Kylie. You’re shivering.”

The morning chill swept clear through her, ice tightening about her heart.

“I’ve got work to do…a schedule to keep…a business to run.”
And pride to keep, Michael Cusack. I won’t be running after you.
“Which one of you is giving me a ride?”

Michael seemed to tense, but then again, perhaps he felt nothing. He remained still and unmoved, his collar turned up at his throat, his eyes staring at the road leading into Freedom. How could he? How could he not remember—?

“Choose,” Michael ordered curtly as the horses tramped around her. She placed her hand on Jack’s cheek when he turned to nuzzle her, a kinder heart than the man who rode him.

Michael knew he was handling her too roughly, pushing her. But his pride demanded a small bit of satisfaction. He didn’t have time to learn the softer ways to reach Kylie’s gentle heart, but he would. Instincts as old as the world drove him now, to claim her in a ritual that had long been observed in Freedom Valley. He’d never love another woman, let her roam gently in his heart and it was time to let others know of his intentions.

There in the sunlight dancing through the naked limbs of the trees bordering the road, while the dead leaves rustled in the breeze, Kylie looked at the men she knew well. She looked at Tanner and because Michael had withdrawn behind his shields and because he had to pay, she tossed her words to the clear fresh air for all to know. “I choose you,” she said to Michael, challenging him with her look. “I want to ride with you and torture you.”

“You’ve done enough of that already.” His words were dark and resentful, but there was a soft curl to his lips. The slight crinkling beside his meadow-green eyes said that he was enjoying her frustration.

What were the rules dancing in the frosty air? What did he want from her that she’d given, and that he’d counted as a score on his side?
Dazzled by his widening grin, she fought the thundering need to pull his head down and take his mouth—
What had she given him?
“It’s miles into town. You know I don’t have my pickup.”

Dead upon the trees, the leaves rustled in the cold wind that circled her and Michael. They seemed alone, despite the stamping of the horses and the steam shooting from their nostrils. Men she’d known all her life faded in comparison to this one man, a rugged scar running across his cheek and danger flashing in his eyes. Kindness wasn’t in them as he pinned her on the earth beneath him, locked her shoes and her heart with that steady unreadable expression. Caught by the wind, his hair riffled and shifted and her hand ached to smooth it again, to feel that bold texture against her body as he asked, “Won’t someone else do? Can’t you terrorize someone else for the distance?”

She didn’t understand the hope and pride in his tone, not the man she would destroy. He’d flung more to the wind curling between them than the question of whose horse she’d share— She didn’t understand what he wanted from her. “No. They’re all sweethearts. You’re the one who isn’t.”

The warmth in his expression slid away into the frosty air, stamped by the horses ready to be off. “You give too much.”

Her head went up at that verbal jab. She was no less than he in this small war amid the cold wind and the waiting men intent upon the battle. She let her hair swirl around her, let the wind take it back from her face so that Michael Cusack could read the truth in her heart. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions. “I give what I want.”

“You chose me. You can change your mind now, if you want.”

The odd formality wasn’t like Michael, but his eyes were fierce and demanding upon her. The rules were shifting, tossed by the wind, emotions flying between them. She gripped the truth that ran strong within her. “I do choose you, Michael Cusack.”

Tanner nodded briefly, making his own decisions as he watched the warring play between them. Michael’s eyes narrowed into green slits, ripping down her body as if to terrify her, to make her change her mind. But backing off from a fight with him wasn’t on her menu, not now when Michael slowly extended his hand. The hard warmth curled around her own. She slid her foot into the stirrup he had vacated and swung up behind him.

Time hadn’t changed much, Kylie decided darkly as they rode through the sunlight. She was still the tagalong, the unwanted demanding her place among them. But now there was no teasing among the men, no groans or belches or threats to keep her away. Kylie held Michael tight, not wanting him to leave her. She leaned against his back, nuzzling it with her cheek. “You’re up to no good, Michael Cusack.”

He laughed then and reached behind him to smooth her back, keeping her close to him for a bit. It was a small thing, but reassuring and she settled for that, trusting him.