The Deputy's Lost and Found (11 page)

“You haven’t said much since we left the Hamiltons’,” she reasoned.

“I’m sorry, Lass. I’ve been a little distracted.”

A little, he thought ruefully. Why the hell couldn’t he be honest with her? He was downright troubled. And not just because her identity was still a mystery. Tonight, while she’d stood next to him, her slender arm resting casually on his, he’d felt something he’d never felt before. He’d experienced a sweet connection, a contented ease with her company. Those sorts of feelings about a woman had never struck him before and the whole thing had left him more than a little dazed.

“You and Ethan disappeared into the house for a long while. You were talking work, weren’t you?”

He released a guilty groan. “I confess. We did talk a little work. Mostly about you.”

“Oh, Brady,” she wailed under her breath in order not to disturb the sleeping household. “I’ve been nothing but a headache to you. If I had any sense at all, I’d leave here and let you and your family get some peace.”

By now they had reached her bedroom door and he caught her by the upper arms and turned her to face him. “Is that what you really want, Lass? To go off somewhere—to be a charity ward of the county?”

“I’m not helpless. I can work and support myself,” she shot back at him, then groaned with regret. “I’m sorry, Brady. I’m sounding very ungrateful and I don’t want you to think that. I—” Her hands gently rested against his chest. “No. I don’t want to leave here. But I’m—”

“Look, Lass, I haven’t mentioned this to you, but after I got the call from the jockey, I made a decision to flood several Texas newspapers with your photo and story. That was early yesterday. Now a few calls and tips are starting to come in and we’re trying to sift through them as quickly as we can to see if any are legitimate. So far you’ve been identified as everything from an elementary teacher in the
Texas panhandle to a PFC in the Texas National Guard and a sales clerk at a Neiman Marcus in Dallas. It will take us a while to confirm if any of the callers actually know you or your family. But I have a gut feeling I’m going to have some answers for you soon.”

She looked up at him and through the dim lighting of the landing, he could see turmoil swirling in her gray eyes. To his wonder, she looked exactly the way he was feeling inside.

“And how do you feel about that?” she whispered.

He groaned, then, bending down, he pressed his cheek against hers. “I feel torn, Lass. I don’t want anything or anyone to come between us,” he murmured against her ear.

She pulled her head back to look at him and as his gaze settled on her lips his gut twisted with a need so great it was almost painful.

“Do you really mean that?” she asked.

“I can’t believe you have to ask me that, Lass. Since you’ve came into my life everything has changed. I’ve changed. You and me together. That’s the most important thing to me now.”

Without saying more, he angled his head to kiss her. She tasted soft and sweet and giving, and when her arms slipped up and around his neck and her lips unfolded beneath his, he felt more than pleasure, he felt totally and strangely happy.

Quickly, he deepened the connection of their mouths and just as instantly passion fired, then exploded like flint against rock, flame to dead grass. From somewhere in the core of him, heat spread, then raced outward, downward until desire was gripping his whole body like a red-hot vise. The need to make love to her was searing a hole in his brain, turning every scrap of common sense into useless ashes.

Somehow, he managed to tear his lips from hers and as
he sucked in deep, ragged breaths, he caught her by the hands and tugged her toward the end of the landing, where his bedroom was located.

She followed his lead, but whispered as they went, “Brady, what are you doing? My bedroom is…behind us.”

Opening a carved wooden door, he flipped a switch and a small lamp at the head of the bed instantly shed a shaft of soft yellow light across a dark blue spread.

“But this is where we’re going,” he explained. “To my room.”

She didn’t say anything until they were standing inside the dark room and he’d locked the door securely behind them.

“Brady! This is risky! What if someone comes to your room?”

With his hands against the back of her waist, he groaned and pulled her close. “In the middle of the night? No chance. No one ever disturbs me. Besides, the door is locked. The two of us are finally alone and together.”

“Together,” she repeated wondrously, then shyly pressed her cheek against his. “Oh, Brady, I do want us to be together.”

Her softly spoken words filled him with an urgency he could hardly contain. Swiftly, he picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. After he’d laid her in the middle of the wide mattress, then stretched out beside her, he framed her face with his hands and simply gazed at her, letting his eyes fill with the lovely sight of her.

“Why are you looking at me like…I’m strange?” she whispered.

The corners of his mouth tilted, his eyes gentled. “
Strange
is the wrong word, Lass. Try special. I’ve never seen a woman lying in my bed before. I didn’t realize it would look this good. Feel this right.”

Between the loose hold of his fingers, her head twisted
back and forth. “Don’t talk to me as though I’m naive, Brady. I know you’ve had other women in your bed.”

One hand slipped to the back of her neck and pulled her face forward so that their eyes and lips were level and only scant inches apart. Her heart was pounding and she must have forgotten how to breathe because her lungs were burning almost as much as the rest of her body.

“Lass, my little Lass, you misunderstand. Yes, I’ve had a woman in
a
bed before. But not
my
bed.
This
bed. Since I was a small boy, this is where I’ve always slept. It’s my private place where I rest and dream and, these past few weeks, pictured you in my arms. Now here you are and I can’t look at you enough. Can’t touch you enough.”

He closed the last bit of space between their lips and as the connection deepened, she groaned softly and rolled toward him. With his mouth fastened hungrily to hers, he gathered the front of her body close to his, then his hands went on a reckless exploration across her back, down her hips, then up to the small curve of her breasts. The dress she was wearing zipped in the back and his fingers trembled as he searched for the handle, then slowly tugged the fastener downward.

Beneath the tough pads of his fingers, her skin felt like satin and when he slipped the piece of fabric off her shoulder and bent his head to the curve of her neck, it tasted like smooth cream sweetened with sugar.

As a lawman he’d always thought of himself as a protector, but with Lass in his arms the feeling intensified a thousand times over. He wanted to shelter her, worship her, bind her to him so closely that nothing or no one could touch her or tear her from him.

Savoring the fine texture of her skin, his lips moved across her throat, then upward to the tender spot beneath
her chin. He could feel her soft sighs brushing his cheeks, the beat of her heart pounding against his, her hands gliding over his shoulders and across his back.

The need to feel those hands against him, to have her slender fingers playing over his bare skin, was so fierce he drew back from her and quickly began to deal with the buttons on his shirt. Lass followed his cue and while he shrugged out of his shirt, she pushed her dress over her hips and allowed it to fall to the floor.

The sight of her wearing nothing but pink lace caused blood to pound in his ears, his loins. His body was screaming to make love to her, yet at the same time his mind was gearing down, commanding his hands and lips to linger, to investigate and memorize every curve, every inch and every pore of her heated skin.

Up until this moment, Lass hadn’t really understood what being lost meant. With her lips consumed by his, her body turning to soft putty in his hands, she was as lost as a raindrop falling into a wide, dark ocean. He was her only anchor and she clung to him, her mouth a willing prisoner to his as he kissed her over and over, while his tongue tangled, plunged and teased.

By the time he pulled away from her and began to deal with the rest of his clothing, Lass’s body had become a heated coil, winding itself tighter and tighter until every cell in her body felt as though it would explode.

Shamelessly, her breaths coming hard and fast, she removed the last flimsy remnants of her clothing and waited for him to rejoin her on the bed. When he finally turned back to her, she could see that he’d already taken care of protection and for one split second, the reality of what they were about to do whooshed like a chilly breeze through her mind. But that one brief second ended as soon
as his hands reached for her, then pressed her back upon the mattress.

Stretching next to her side, he spoke against her cheek. “From the first time I kissed you, I’ve wanted you like this.”

Her hands left his shoulders to gently frame his face and he paused to gaze into her eyes.

“And I’ve wanted you,” she murmured.

A soft, inviting light flickered in her eyes and he felt something in the middle of his chest jerk, then like a broken fountain, emotions flowed unchecked, drowning him, terrifying him with their intensity.

“Lass,” he uttered hoarsely. “My Lass.”

It was all he could say as his throat closed together and his arms instinctively tightened around her.

Tilting her head back, she offered her lips up to his and this time when he kissed her, his body won the war over his mind. He could no longer slow this trip they were taking. He needed her. All of her. Nothing else could quench the violent force driving his movements.

Beneath him, her legs parted with invitation, and with one smooth thrust he sank into her soft wetness. As her warmth surrounded him, pleasure such as he’d never experienced wrapped around him, snapped his head back and momentarily paralyzed his movements.

And then he felt her hips thrusting toward his, her back bowing, crushing her breasts against his chest. With a guttural growl of desperation, he began to move inside her and with each exquisite thrust he felt himself falling, tumbling to a place he’d never been before.

Beneath him, Lass tried to keep up with his frantic pace, tried to knead, touch, taste every bump and hollow on his hard, muscled body. Like a strong wine, she wanted to
drink him, savor every taste, every magical sensation that was intoxicating her senses.

Soon she was gasping for air and the need inside was clawing at her like a fierce cat, hissing, twitching, readying itself for the final pounce. When that final leap came, she swallowed her cries and gripped him close. And like water over a fall, she was suddenly flowing wild and free, drifting languidly, until finally she ebbed onto a soft, sandy shore.

The second Brady felt her velvety softness tightening around him, heard the low, keening moan deep in her throat, he lost all touch with his surroundings. Unbearable pleasure burst inside him, flung him upward and outward until he was sure his heart had split open and everything it held was spilling into her.

The urge to shout was so great that he buried his face into the curve of her neck and kept it there until the shudders in him subsided.

Once the walls of the room quit spinning, Brady realized he was sprawled over Lass and she was supporting the brunt of his weight. Quickly, he rolled to one side of her and lying flat against the mattress, stared in stunned wonder at the shadowed ceiling.

So that was making love, he thought. He’d not known or ever imagined that such give and take could go on between a man and a woman. She’d taken him over a precipice, and even if he’d known the fall would kill him, he still would have gone willingly, happily.

Somewhere from the dark corners of his mind, fear pricked like a cold, evil blade and he turned his head to look at her.

At that moment, she rolled to face him and strands of her long black hair spilled over a flushed cheek and swung a modest curtain over one breast. Her lips were dark pink and puffy, her skin covered with a sheen of sweat. He’d never
seen anything so lovely, so perfect. And though he’d not yet caught his breath, he felt desire stir in him all over again.

Shifting toward her, he reached out and gently tucked the errant strands of hair behind her ear.

“What are you thinking?” he asked gently.

The corners of her mouth tilted wanly and then to his dismay, her gray eyes glazed, then pooled with tears.

“I think,” she whispered huskily, “that I love you, Brady Donovan.”

I
love you.
Those three little words were the last thing Brady expected to hear from Lass. For a second time tonight she’d stunned him and as he gazed at her, his thoughts were spinning, searching for a way to reply that wouldn’t make him sound insensitive or patronizing or, God help him, an enchanted fool.

In spite of his reputation for having racked up more dates than Abe Cantrell had cattle, Brady had never had a woman tell him she loved him. Well, maybe once in high school, but that had been from a silly little drama student, who’d not really known the meaning of the word, but truly believed she was destined for a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. So as far as he was concerned that one time hadn’t counted.

But tonight, with Lass, he’d felt the emotion in her voice, saw a glow in her eyes that made him feel amazed, yet at
the same time terribly unworthy. She deserved the best. She deserved to be loved in return. But was he capable of that?

His hand trembling, he trailed his fingertips down her damp cheek. “Lass, I don’t know what to say. I—”

Her forefinger touched his upper lip, stopping anything else he might have said. “You don’t have to say anything,” she gently insisted. “I don’t expect you to tell me that you love me back.”

She scooted closer to him and the musky, womanly scent of her swirled around him, caught his senses and sent them dancing away to hide in a shadowy corner. Then just as he was trying to drag them back, her hand drifted onto his shoulder and glided down his arm. Her touch scattered goose bumps across his skin.

“I just…thought you should know how I feel,” she went on, then with a sigh, she pressed her cheek against his chest. “That’s all.”

His throat thickened, his eyes closed. Was that his heart tearing down the middle? Did love feel like a fist punching him in the gut, making his whole chest ache? If so, then he was scared. Scared that the pain might never stop.

“Lass, maybe…what you’re really feeling for me is gratitude. Because I found you—that night on the road.”

An objective groan sounded in her throat. “Look, Brady, I’m grateful to anyone who helps me. And I may not remember my own name, but I don’t believe that I ever went around thanking the men in my life like—” she reared her head back to look at him “—like this.”

“God, I hope not.”

She slanted him a wry look. “I should have never said anything to you about my…feelings. Now you’re uncomfortable and I don’t know how to put you at ease, to convince you that I’m not expecting vows or pledges or
flowery words from you. I’m not blind. I can see that you don’t want to be serious about any woman.”

He was shocked at how much of him was insulted by her not so flattering assessment. “Really?” he asked sardonically. “You can see that about me, through all the muddy conceit and selfishness?”

Disappointment filled her eyes and Brady was suddenly ashamed of himself. He didn’t know what was pushing him to say such things. It must be that odd pain in his chest that was putting words in his mouth.

Sighing, she rolled away from him and climbed from the bed. Confused, Brady watched her walk over to the nearest window and stare out at the dark, moonless sky. And though the lovely sight of her nakedness was riveting, it was the wistful expression on her face that caught his attention and pushed him to leave the bed and go stand behind her.

Sliding his arms around her waist, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. Her skin was warm and salty and he had to catch himself before his teeth began to nibble, his hands lift to cup her breasts.

“I’m sorry, Lass. I guess I’m not saying anything right.”

“Maybe it would be better if you didn’t say anything at all,” she suggested, her voice painfully distant.

Lifting his head, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “I can’t do that, Lass. I want you to understand that…well, you threw me for a loop.”

Twisting in his arms, she looked up at him, her gaze searching. “Why?”

Grimacing, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Lass, this is all new for me. I don’t know what being in love feels like and I’ve never dated any woman long enough to give her the chance to fall in love with me.”

“Why?” she asked again.

Her simple question pulled a groan from his throat.

“This is probably going to sound corny to you, but to me love means forever. It’s like marriage—once you do it, it ought to be for life.”

Her gray eyes suddenly softened. “Is that why you’ve not yet loved or married? Because you don’t want to be connected to someone for life?”

With a rough sigh, he pulled her to him and cradled her head against his shoulder. As his fingers meshed in the silky strands of her hair, he asked, “Did you know that both of my brothers have been married?”

“Yes. Kate told me that Conall is divorced and Liam is widowed.”

“That’s right. Conall was married for a few years and then things went wrong between him and his wife. Liam’s wife was killed in a car accident. She was pregnant with their first child at the time.”

Lass gasped. “Oh, how tragic!”

“Yeah. Both my brothers have endured too much heartache.”

Her gaze sharpened on his face. “So you’re afraid to try love or marriage? Afraid that tragedy will strike you, too?”

“Not exactly,” he answered, then his mouth twisted wryly. “Funny you should think that about me. My family tends to think I’m a shallow fellow when it comes to women. That I’m some sort of heartbreaker.” Snorting softly, he shook his head. “I guess to them it does look that way. I have to admit that I’ve dated plenty of women over the years, but I don’t have anything against love or marriage. It’s just something…well, I want to be cautious about it. I need a woman strong enough to cope with my job, with the worries and fears, and realize that I truly want
to keep being a deputy. A lot of the girls I dated couldn’t really cope with the hours and the schedule and the job. And I want to get a little older and wiser before I take the plunge and then maybe I’ll have a marriage like my parents have.”

Her palms rested upon chest. “And that’s what you want, a marriage like your parents’?”

His fingers stroked the silky hair lying upon her shoulder. “I want a woman I can love. The way my dad loves my mother. The way my grandpa loved my grandma. What they had, what my parents have now, is that forever kind of thing. Nothing can rattle it or break it. That’s what I want. And I’m not going to make a vow to God to love, honor and obey, unless I can truly mean it.”

One corner of her mouth slowly curved upward. “Why, Brady, I never suspected you of being such an old-fashioned sort of guy.”

Her arms were sliding around his waist, her warm little body leaning into his and that in itself was enough to put a smile on his face. “Is that what you call it? Mom calls it being too particular,” he said, then brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he added thickly, “But I’m beginning to think you’re absolutely perfect—for me.”

“Oh, Brady, I—”

“Shh. Let’s not waste any more of this night talking,” he gently interrupted. “Morning will be here soon enough.”

Apparently, she agreed with him. Without another word, she rose on tiptoes and fastened her mouth over his. And as desire for her began to burn all over again, Brady was content to let his mind go blank and ignore the restless questions in his heart.

The next morning, Brady had to be at work early, but thankfully not as early as most mornings when he headed
to Carrizozo long before daylight. When the alarm finally jolted him awake, he expected to see Lass’s head on the pillow next to his. Instead, he found himself alone with nothing but memories of the love they’d made in his bed.

The fact that she’d chosen to leave him sometime while he was asleep, stung him a bit. He’d thought their night together had changed everything. He’d thought she’d grown as close to him as he had to her. Maybe he’d presumed too much.

Rolling to his side, he wiped a hand over his face and told himself he was becoming downright maudlin. He couldn’t expect Lass to simply stay in his room all night, then go down to breakfast together as though they were a married couple. She had more respect for herself and his family than that. And he had more respect for her than that.

So what do you want, Brady? For her to be your wife? Do you want the right to have her in your bed, your life for always? Is she that woman you’ve been searching for?

Always.
Always was a long time, Brady mused, as he pushed himself out of bed and walked toward his private bathroom. Would having only one woman in his life get boring? Would he regret not being able to play the field?

Something made him suddenly stop in the middle of the room and gaze back at the bed he’d shared with Lass. Nothing about Lass could ever be boring. Even if she was gray and wrinkled he would want her. Love her.

Yes, he could admit it to himself now. But saying those words to Lass were quite another thing. Her past might have already promised her future to someone else. And if that turned out to be the case, what would he do? What could he do?

After a quick shower, he hurried down to the kitchen in hopes of catching Lass before she left with Dallas to work
at the riding stables. But when he reached the kitchen, Conall was the only person he found.

Of the three Donovan brothers, Conall was the enigmatic one. With hair as dark as their mother’s and eyes as green as an Irish shamrock, he was a handsome devil. Or at least he would be, Brady thought, if he’d find it in himself to smile as though he was enjoying life. But with a natural head for business, that side of the ranch had been handed over to him and with the job came heavy responsibilities. Brady couldn’t remember the last time Conall had taken time off for himself or left the ranch for anything more than business.

Dressed in a starched white shirt and dark tie, Conall was sitting at a small breakfast bar located at the end of the cabinets, nursing a cup of coffee and rifling through the
Lincoln County News
when Brady walked into the room.

At the sound of his footsteps, Conall peered over the top of the newspaper, “You’re getting around late this morning, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly,” Brady explained. “Yesterday my schedule changed a bit and I have to work later.”

He poured himself a cup of coffee, then peered at the breakfast food that Opal had left in the warming drawer. The eggs and bacon still looked fresh so he helped himself to a plate full, then carried the meal over to a table situated near a sliding plate glass door. Beyond it, he could see his grandmother trimming her roses. The sight comforted him.

“Where is everyone?” he asked.

“In everyone, you mean Lass?”

The faint sarcasm in Conall’s voice jerked Brady’s head up and he stared sharply at his brother. “Okay, have you seen Lass this morning?”

“She and Dallas have already left for the stables. You
should have gotten up earlier if you’d planned on kissing her goodbye.”

Brady’s jaw tightened. He and Conall had always been as different as daylight and dark, but they normally got along well. He didn’t know why his brother was being so testy this morning, but he was hardly in the mood for it.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Laying the paper to one side, his brother looked squarely at him. “Oh, come on, Brady, the whole family can see you’ve fallen for the girl. What have you done, turned into some sort of idiot?”

Falling in love with Lass made him an idiot? For an instance, Brady reverted to his childhood and wanted to jump up from the table and wrench Conall’s arm around his back and twist until his brother took back every word he’d just said. But the days where they’d physically fought had ended years ago. Now that they were grown men, they had to fight with words.

“I ought to knock your damned head off for that,” Brady muttered.

Unperturbed, Conall grimaced. “Why get mad just because I struck a nerve? I’m only trying to point out that you’re making a mistake.”

Even if he’d been starving, at that moment Brady couldn’t have wedged a bite of food between his gritted teeth. “Oh, you’re an authority on women now? That’s a laugh.” He jerked up his coffee cup and brought it halfway to his mouth. “Sometimes you’re a real bastard, Conall.”

Leaving the bar stool, his brother walked over to the small table, jerked out a chair and sank into it.

“Maybe I am a bastard,” Conall said in deceptively soft voice, “but I’m just trying to keep you from being hurt.”

“Like you?” Brady retorted.

“That’s a low blow.”

It was a low blow and the realization helped Brady put a lid on his rising temper. He shouldn’t have let Conall’s remarks get to him. But these past few days he’d been torn between his search for Lass’s identity and his growing feelings for her. He was walking a tightrope and his nerves were raw from the strain. Wiping a hand over his face, he said, “I shouldn’t have said that. But Lass is…important to me.”

“That’s the whole point,” Conall replied. “You don’t know who she is or where she came from. She could be carrying all sorts of trouble or baggage that you don’t yet know about. Is that the sort of woman you want to bring into our family?”

At one time, Conall himself had brought a fairly disturbed woman into the family. But Brady wasn’t going to point that out. He’d already suffered enough without him bringing up the subject of Conall’s ex-wife.

“Lass is a good person. I don’t have to run a police check on her to know that.”

Rising to his feet, Conall shrugged. “I don’t know what the hell I’m worrying about this for. You’ve never stayed interested in one woman for more than a week or two. Lass will be no different.”

Like hell, Brady thought.

Forcing his attention to his plate, he shoveled up a fork full of eggs. “This is one time, big brother, you need to mind your own business.”

Without another word, Conall turned and left the room.

For the next four days, Brady was relegated to working the night shift. Which meant he left the ranch while Lass was working at the stables and didn’t return home until the middle of the night. She’d talked to him on the phone, but those conversations had been brief and while she’d been
in the company of the stables staff. So she’d had little chance to say anything personal, like how much she was missing him, how much she was aching to have his arms back around her. But he’d let her know he’d not forgotten her or their night together. One evening she’d found a fresh flower on her pillow and last evening he’d left a gift wrapped box on her nightstand. Inside had been an ivory lace shawl with a short note telling her the gift was meant to keep her warm until he could wrap his arms around here once again.