The Legacy of Copper Creek (17 page)

She checked the oven. “You do. And it's ready.”

As she set it on the counter and removed her oven mitts, he located a thick towel and used it to pick up the pizza.

“Where are you taking it? I thought we were eating.”

“We are. But not here.” With a mysterious grin he said, “Follow me.”

“Where? Whit MacKenzie, tell me what's going on.”

He turned with a wink. “Trust me, Goldilocks. You and I just won the lottery.”

D
usk was just beginning to settle as they stepped out the back door.

Cara looked expectantly toward the ranch truck, parked nearby. She was surprised when Whit took her hand and led her in the opposite direction, toward the barn.

“Is that truck broken?”

“Truck?” He looked over his shoulder and laughed. “We won't need it where we're going.”

“Where…?”

He merely shook his head. “Did anybody ever tell you you ask too many questions?”

“All right.” A picnic up in the hills? “I guess we're going by horseback.”

She paused in the doorway to the barn, expecting to see Dumpling saddled. Instead, the stalls were empty. The occasional whinny of a horse could be heard in the corral out back.

More confused than ever, she followed Whit until he paused beside a tall ladder.

A wide, sexy grin split his lips. “Come on up, Goldilocks. We're going to be testing beds in the big house tonight.”

She climbed the ladder, with Whit trailing behind, carrying the towel-wrapped pizza.

When she reached the hayloft, she stared in surprise.

Whit had spread his bedroll in the hay. Alongside it was a bucket of ice and several longnecks chilling. He placed the pizza on a small stool.

Laughter lurked in his eyes as he dropped down on his knees beside her. “Goldilocks, just seeing you here makes me so hungry.”

“Then I'll cut you a slice…”

He caught her hand. “Not for food. There will be plenty of time for that later. First, I just want to take a big bite of you.”

He gathered her into his arms and covered her mouth with his in a kiss that was so hot with need, all she could do was clutch his waist and hold on.

He lifted his head. “Not good enough, Goldilocks. This is no place to be passive. I expect you to get in the game.”

“The…game?” She lifted a hand to his face and he caught her wrist, holding her hand as he sucked each finger slowly into his mouth, his gaze never leaving hers.

The hungry look in his eyes said more than words.

“Oh.” The smile in her eyes matched the smile in her voice as she dug her hands into his hair and dove into a kiss in a way she never had before. All open and giving. All hunger and need. No barriers. Nothing held back.

“Mmm. Now that's better. Just remember, there's nobody around to hear us or see us. For tonight, we're free.”

Free
. The thought of it washed over her, and she found herself laughing.

“Oh, Whit. What fun. I've never been in a hayloft before.”

“Then I'll try to make your first time memorable, Goldilocks.”

He kept his eyes on hers as he reached for the buttons of her shirt. “Speaking of first times…I want to make it up to you for the rough way I took you at the creek.”

“You didn't take me, Whit. You forget, I was the one who offered.”

“A very generous offer. But I took you like an animal, and ever since, I've wanted to find a way to make it up to you.”

He slid her shirt from her shoulders. As it drifted to the hay, he unhooked the tiny bit of lace that covered her breasts.

Without a word, he filled his palms with her and nuzzled her heated flesh.

She absorbed a jolt of sexual energy that coursed along her spine.

He reached for the fasteners of her denims. “You're so beautiful, you take my breath away.”

Though she hadn't planned it, she blurted, “So are you, Whit.”

His head came up and for a moment all he could do was stare at her. “Now this is a first for me. I've never been called beautiful.”

Her laughter was warm on his face. “But you are. Look at you.” She shimmied out of her jeans and the tiny lace thong before reaching a hand to his waist, helping him slide free of his clothes. Free and naked and splendid. “You have the most amazing, beautiful body.”

He brushed kisses over her upturned face. “I hope you'll say that when the night is over. This body is all yours tonight, Goldilocks, to do with as you please.”

She shivered in anticipation as he laid her down on the bedroll and leaned close.

“But first…” He ran hot, wet kisses over her face, down her neck, around each breast, before taking one moist nipple into his mouth.

She made a purring sound in her throat and locked her arms around his neck as he moved from one breast to the other, while those wonderful, calloused hands began moving over her, adding another layer to her pleasure.

“Your skin is so soft.”

“And your hands are so clever.”

“I'm glad you approve.”

“Oh, I do.” She was desperate to touch him as he was touching her, but he gave her no time as he continued pleasuring her.

“This is your night, Goldilocks. Let me pamper you. Let me love you.”

And then he showed her, in every way, just how much he meant those words. With slow kisses, and long, leisurely touches that had her body humming with need.

Finally, unable to hold back, she rose up on one elbow, leaning over him, her hair tickling his chest as she began running wet kisses down his throat, across the flat planes of his stomach.

He lay back with a moan of pure pleasure, only to stop her moments later, though it cost him. “Hold on. We're getting ahead of ourselves. This is getting way too intense.”

He sat up and gathered her close, pressing his mouth to a tangle of hair at her temple.

Against her flesh he whispered, “I don't want hot and fast. I plan on enjoying a feast tonight. A slow, lazy, all-you-can-eat banquet.” He lifted her face and kissed the corner of her lips. “Let's just start with some appetizers.”

He ran slow, easy kisses over her upturned face, lingering over her raised brow, trailing ever so slowly to her ear, where he flicked his tongue before tugging lightly on her lobe.

She followed his lead, kissing the curve of his strong jaw before whispering kisses over his throat and across his shoulder.

He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Goldilocks, when you do that, you get me all tingly.”

“Good. I like tingly.” She moved lower, across his chest, while her fingers trailed his mat of dark, springy hair.

“So do I. But now you've got me tingling in other places,” he said with a growl as he dragged her on top of him. “I thought I could hold back, but there's just something about you. I'm afraid there's no stopping it now.”

He plunged his hands into the tangles of her hair, dragging her head down while he kissed her with a depth of hunger that rocked her to her very core.

His hands moved over her, building a fire that was threatening to consume them both.

Caught up in the frenzy of need, she wriggled over him, taking him in and closing around him like a velvet fist.

He groaned from the exquisite pleasure of it before going very still. His eyes, dark with pulsing need, were fixed on hers.

“I see we're doomed, Goldilocks. Like I said, there's no stopping this out-of-control train. We just have to ride it.”

And then they were moving together with a strength born of desperation. Climbing. Clinging. Clawing. Chests pounding, breathing shallow, hearts galloping, they raced toward the moon. And climaxed in a shower of glittering stars.

“Sorry.” Whit's face was buried in the little hollow of Cara's neck. She smelled of hay and sex and the faint hint of wildflowers he'd noticed on that first night when he'd slept on her pillow.

It would always remind him of Cara and the way she'd looked in those first few minutes, all terrified and putting up a brave front, with that broomstick at his back like a weapon. And then the revelation when he'd tugged aside the blanket.

“You're sorry?” Her words were muffled against his temple.

“Not for this. This was good. Not just good. It was fantastic.” With an effort, he lifted his head to brush her mouth with his. “But I'd planned this night to be a long, slow seduction, to make up for that hot, sweaty display down by the creek. I guess I just can't let myself get too close to you or I forget all my good intentions and just fall into the same hot, sweaty, fast sex all over again.”

She lifted a hand to his cheek. “I'm not complaining.”

“No. You're not. Have I told you that it's one of the things I really like about you? You never complain, no matter what situation you find yourself in.”

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. But this wasn't so much a situation as a celebration.” She paused. “What other things do you like about me?”

“You fishing for compliments, Goldilocks?”

Her smile turned sly. “Maybe I am.”

“You don't need to worry. You've got it all.” He rolled to one side and gathered her close. “I like the way you smell. Like a field of wildflowers in springtime. And I like the way your hair falls all long and loose, especially when it's falling over me.” He touched a finger to her lips. “I like looking at your face. You're gorgeous, but not like those cover models, you know? More like you just stepped out of a shower and you're all clean and natural and pretty. And I like the way you look when you're cooking. Like you've got everything covered. No rush, no nerves, just very cool, as though you could find yourself in a giant stadium filled with starving strangers, and you'd just go on fixing food without a care in the world.”

She leaned up on one elbow to stare at him. “I had no idea you were thinking all those things about me.”

“It's the truth.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face, allowing his hand to linger a moment. “And it's a hell of a lot more than I'd intended to admit to.”

As if to cover his lapse, he sat up and turned toward the ice bucket. “How about a beer and some pizza?”

As he twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her, he added with a sexy grin, “We can always try for slow and easy after a good meal.”

“You know, considering that you weren't planning on making pizza, this is really good. A lot better than the cardboard at Wylie's.” Whit reached for another slice.

“Thanks. But you were right. I had all the ingredients. Why not use them for something portable?”

“Yeah. Lasagna just wouldn't be the same up here in the hay loft.”

A clap of thunder had Cara looking up in fear. “That sounded close.”

“Close enough.” Whit pointed out the small, open window that gave them a glimpse of the land for acres. “I'm betting this storm is what kept Mad at Griff and Juliet's ranch for the night.”

Cara leaned her head out and breathed in the wonderful, fresh scent of spring rain. “Oh, it's beautiful and frightening, all at the same time. And it smells so clean.”

“Yeah.” Whit leaned back, one arm under his head. “Ever since I was a kid I've loved to lie up here and listen to the rain on the tin roof.” He looked over. “I hope you're not afraid of storms?”

She shook her head and sat beside him, her arms encircling her folded legs, her chin on her knees. “It must have been a fun place to grow up.”

He nodded. “Despite Pop's temper, I had a lot of freedom. I was riding by the time I could walk. And heading up to the hills with the wranglers as soon as Mom would allow. I guess I was six or seven the first time I begged to go along. Pop was having none of it, and Mom was worried until Brady promised to watch out for me.”

“He seems like such a gentleman.”

“Brady? Yeah. He's a good guy.”

“He's soft on your mom.”

Whit's hand holding the beer paused in midair. “You don't mean like romantic soft? You mean like watching out for her. Right?”

“Are you blind? Every time he looks at her, he practically melts. If she sneezes, he's beside her with a handkerchief. If she even thinks about making a cup of tea, he's there with boiling water and a tea strainer.”

Whit sat up, running a hand through his hair. “That's just because he's one of those old-fashioned cowboys who only knows one way to treat a lady. And that's with respect.” Reassured by his own words, he nodded. “Yeah. He's just treating Mom the same way he'd treat any woman.”

“Except that Willow isn't just any woman to him. Haven't you seen the way he looks out for her? The way he watches her whenever he thinks nobody is looking?”

He set aside his half-finished beer. “You think he's…got special feelings for my mother?”

“Does that bother you?”

Whit had to think about that. He frowned. “No. I mean, I could understand if he felt that way. She's a beautiful woman. And she's still young. And Brady has been in all our lives since before any of us were born. But still…it's hard for me to picture anyone but Pop having that kind of relationship with my mom.” He looked over. “Do you think she feels the same way about Brady?”

“Your mom's a very private person. She's much harder to read. And from everything I've heard, she was crazy in love with your father. Still”—she rolled her eyes—“Brady Storm is one handsome cowboy.”

His strong fingers curled around her wrist. “You think he's better looking than me?”

She looked down at his hand, then up into his eyes with a glint of teasing laughter. “My, my. If I didn't know better, I'd think Whit MacKenzie is displaying a bit of jealousy.”

“My ass.” But he drew her closer. “Do you? Think he's better-looking than me?”

“Not even close. Feeling better?”

“Much.” He lay back, easing her down beside him. “Okay. I told you about my childhood. Now it's your turn. Tell me how you learned to draw like that.”

“Drawing is the easy part. For me, it's as natural as breathing. And the stories I wrote were really all about me and my imaginary friend as we lived through those wonderful adventures.” She looked over at Whit. “While living with my gram, I used to wonder about my mom. I'd convince myself that one day she'd be back. I'd kneel by the window waiting for her to return. My stories took me away from the harsh reality that I was never going to live like other kids. Gram gave me an anchor, and she did her best for me, and I'll always be grateful that I had her in my life. But those stories about Arac and Peg, the magic horse, became my escape.” She sighed. “The dream of seeing my work published became a lifeline for me. It's only now that I'm beginning to realize the price I've paid for trying to attain that dream.”