The Airman's E-Mail Order Bride (Heroes of Chance Creek Book 5) (6 page)

Heather pushed back abruptly and stood up. “Be right back.”

She made a dash for the bathroom, and exploded in laughter when she slammed the door shut behind her. What if someone had looked over her shoulder and seen that photo?

“Oh, Colt—”

She pulled up the image again and this time took a good, long look. Hell, he’d always been crazy. And hung like a horse to boot. The one time he’d pressed inside her she’d felt so good. So damn good.

She’d been with other men since then, but no one had grabbed onto her heart like Colt had way back then. None of them had matched his enthusiastic lovemaking either. Going back into her correspondence she pulled up his ad and looked at the photo he’d included in it.

So handsome after all these years. Where once he’d been a lean and rangy teenager, now Colt was all man. He was sharp in his dress uniform and his torso was trim. His eyes were wary, but his bearing was confident. He wasn’t a man to toy with, so why was she toying with him?

Because she couldn’t help it. Besides, he was toying with her too. She flipped back to the image of a certain attention-getting portion of his anatomy and a shiver of need whispered through her. It had been a long time. A really long time. When Richard was young she’d leave him with her mother from time to time and go out on a date, but as he grew older, she’d pulled back from trying to find a new relationship. She didn’t want to confuse him. He was such a loving boy and she knew he’d get his feelings hurt if a man came into their lives and then left again.

She wished to God Colt knew about Richard and had helped her raise him. She wished they were the kind of family she’d always wanted to have.

She couldn’t get all sappy now, though. What should she do?

Camila would know, she decided. Her friend was fearless. Heather texted her quickly.

I’m in touch with Colt, but he doesn’t know it’s me. I just flashed him my tits and he showed me his…well, you know. Now what do I do?

The answer came back more quickly than she expected.

Talk sexy to him!

Heather thought fast. What should she say? The seconds ticked by as she discarded line after line as too silly or too over-the-top. She was out of practice. Heck, she’d never been in practice. Finally, she began to type.

I thought I told you good-night, but you don’t appear to be sleeping. Do you know how to use that thing or are you all flash and no fire?

She splashed a little cold water on her face after she sent the e-mail, and was preparing to leave the bathroom when her phone chimed again.

I know how to use it. Wish you were here so I could show you.

Heat rushed through her. Damn it, how was she supposed to get through a family dinner like this? She was hot and… wet and wishing he was here, too.

Hold that thought. Gotta go for a while. Be back in a few hours.

She almost laughed out loud again when she pressed send. That ought to get a reaction.

Ping.

You’re killing me. I’ll be here.

‡

O
ne hour stretched
into two and then three. Colt found himself flipping through the channels on the television over and over again, but he couldn’t concentrate on any of the shows. Was Heather coming back at all or had she played him like a fine violin? When the time stretched out too long he found himself doing an Internet search. Heather Ward’s name came up in a few links and when he switched to images there she was—not the teenager she’d been when they were together, but a mature, beautiful woman whose clear, direct gaze pulled him straight into the past.

She could have been his wife. She could have been the woman he grew old with, if only fate hadn’t sent them into a tailspin.

When he couldn’t bear to look at her any longer, he flipped to Melanie’s e-mails and examined her image again. She was quite pretty with full lips, dramatic eyes, and dark hair pulled back into a long French braid that rested over one shoulder. She looked modern and capable, her stance upright and her smile friendly.

She was by far the more appropriate choice for a fake wife, but he didn’t feel like sending Melanie a dirty text.

His flirtation with Heather didn’t mean he wouldn’t go through with his business arrangement with Melanie, though. Heather couldn’t blame him, either. He’d been up front about wanting a fake wife. He’d told her point blank he was practically engaged.

And then he’d exposed himself via e-mail. Classy.

A chime had him focusing on his laptop. Heather. Finally.

What are you wearing?

Heat spiked through him. They were going to do this, were they? He sat back down on the bed, his flash of interest cooling slightly as he faced the truth. He didn’t intend to be with Heather, as much as he wanted to be. This was wrong.

Still, he typed,
Nothing. Didn’t you see my photo?

He waited for her response. In reality he was still in jeans, boxer-briefs and a shirt. He’d kicked his boots off, but wore socks—this was January in Montana after all.

By the way
, he added.
Wouldn’t it be easier to switch to chat? Better yet, video?

Chat’s okay—not video,
she answered. Colt chuckled. Heather didn’t want to expose herself. A few moments later, his laptop chimed with the information that
Helena
wanted to chat with him.
I don’t buy that you’re naked,
she wrote.
Take it all off. I want to have my way with you.

He laughed and settled in. Heather was just as feisty as always and now their conversation could proceed at a quicker pace.
I thought that was my line.

You thought wrong. Are you nekkid yet?

Colt wavered, knowing he shouldn’t proceed with this game. He was playing with fire.

Playing with Heather’s heart.

Still, online sex with the woman who’d featured in his dreams for years? What red-blooded man could resist? He reached out to answer and hesitated.

He should sign off. He should stop this before they went too far.

He didn’t want to.

Colt gave in with a growl. What the hell—in for a penny, in for a pound. Why not have a little fun before he went home and faced the music? Maybe this was just what they both needed to get each other out of their systems.

He stripped down, strode to the heat register and turned it up, then climbed onto the bed, plumping the pillows behind him and bunching the covers around him to ward off the chill.

Yep. You?

Nope. I’m wearing a push-up bra, garters, silky stockings and mile-high cherry red heels.

I like it.
He liked it a lot. Colt toggled the keys and pulled up both the image of Helena’s breasts and the larger photo he’d found online of Heather fully dressed.

Another message chimed.
I’m letting you touch my breasts.

Too late to stop this now.
I’m pulling the edge of your bra cups down and taking your luscious nipples into my mouth, tugging and teasing them until you moan,
he wrote back.

I’m sliding my hands all over your body, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your chest,
she wrote.

He could almost feel her soft feathery kisses all over him. He leaned back, his pulse kicking up a notch, and took hold of himself, moving his hand in slow, languorous strokes.

I’m undoing the catch of your bra and sliding it off your shoulders, glorying in the way your breasts bounce free.

She wrote back quickly
. I can barely breathe for wanting you. I reach down and caress you, taking you into my hand.

Hell. He wished Heather was here. Chat was all well and good, but it wasn’t enough.
I slide my hand down your back, under your panties and between your legs.

I’m wet
, she messaged back.
So wet.

Colt groaned, moving his hand faster. What would Heather be like to make love to now?

I want you inside of me, now,
she wrote.
Please, Colt. Take me.

He let go of himself to type quickly,
I toss you on your back, climb on top of you and push inside. I pound into you until you scream my name and come.
Not elegant, but true enough to the way he’d act if she were here.

He pushed the laptop aside, needing all his attention for the task at hand, pushing all conflict to the back of his mind. Wrapping his fingers around himself, he allowed his imagination to run free. There were so many things he wanted to do with Heather—so many positions, so many—

He came with a grunt and a shudder, working himself until he was drained. Leaning back, breathing hard, he turned his head to see the laptop’s screen.

OMG, you are so big
, Heather had written.

And then added a smiley face.

Colt snorted, then laughed out loud. The computer chimed again.

You fill me perfectly
, she said.
You make me moan out loud. You make me—oh, Colt!

A few seconds later another chime sounded.
Heaven
.

Heaven, indeed
.

No reply came for a few minutes. Was Heather lying in her own bed and thinking the same things he was? He took the opportunity to clean up a little.

Finally she wrote again.
Colt, that was good, but it wasn’t as good as having you here would be.

Know what you mean
, he wrote back, although his emotions were far too confused to make sense of.

I have to be real here for a minute
, she said.
I loved showing you my breasts. This wouldn’t have been nearly as fun if I hadn’t—if I didn’t think you were aroused by me—but I can’t have that photo out in the world.

He smiled again at those amazing breasts. It would be a shame to erase that photograph, but he’d honor her request. It was the least he could do, considering their situation. He hit delete.

Your photo is gone. I’ll miss it and the girls. They made a mighty pretty picture,
he wrote.

Your photo is gone, too.

He wondered why she thought she had to delete it. Was she married, after all? Pain lanced through him, and he forced himself to sit with it. After all, he wasn’t going to marry Heather, was he? She was supposed to be off limits to him.

Memories of the last time they’d been together flooded back into his mind, and the guilt he’d carried all these years flared up. He’d betrayed Austin again. He’d betrayed Aaron’s memory.

Colt? You still there?

After a long moment, he answered,
Yes
.

Tell me something about you. Something no one else knows. I want to feel close to you.

He stared at what she’d written, the mood between them spoiled by his memories.
I killed my father,
he wrote before he could stop himself.
Do you feel close to me now?

Alone in the
bedroom her grandparents had allocated to her in their spacious condo, Heather clutched her phone until her fingers turned white.

I killed my father
, she read again. This was worse than she’d thought. She knew their time together and his father’s death were tangled in Colt’s mind, but she’d never guessed he actually thought he’d caused Aaron’s aneurysm. How could he have? That’s not how aneurysms worked.

She worried at her lower lip with her teeth, caught herself and stopped. If Colt thought their being together had killed Aaron, did that mean Aaron knew about them? Was that it?

A sinking feeling in her gut told her she was right. If Aaron had known, had he forbidden Colt to be with her? If he had, and Colt had disobeyed…

Heather closed her eyes. No wonder he’d never spoken to her again. Things between them were even more impossible than she’d thought. It was bad enough they’d gone behind Austin’s back to be together—she still cringed to think of how quickly she’d moved from Austin to Colt. If Colt thought he’d caused Aaron’s death, there was no way he’d ever want to be with her again.

She wanted to ask Colt what he meant straight out but she couldn’t without telling him who she was. She had to tread carefully.

If you really killed your father, you wouldn’t say so outright. So you must mean you think you did something that inadvertently led to his death, and now that he’s gone you feel guilty for that.

Am I right?

She waited for hours, but Colt didn’t write her back. Camila did around midnight.

What’s happening?

I blew it,
Heather texted back.

‡