Unsafe Haven (16 page)

She viewed the closed door with some trepidation. She’d locked it, although she knew Denn wouldn’t enter uninvited. And he wouldn’t pressure her if she walked out there determined to do nothing more than sleep at his side all night. Just a few short hours ago, he’d put aside his own needs to give her mind-blowing pleasure, then he’d held her close until she drifted off. Thinking about it made her heart swell until it pounded in her chest.

With a final admonishment to herself for courage, Kendall unlocked the door and stepped through.

He’d left one bedside light on, and the comforter and sheets had been turned down, but the room was empty. She moved to the open doorway and heard him talking, a one-sided phone conversation. When his voice sounded closer, she hurriedly perched on the very edge of the bed. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them and leaned back on her hands. She tried reclining on her side. None of those positions seemed sexy. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“What are you doing?” His voice startled her and she jumped. She hadn’t heard him come in. He leaned against the doorjamb with the biggest grin on his face.

Immediately her cheeks flamed and she mumbled, “Nothing.”

“Were you trying to get comfortable?” He sat next to her on the bed and bumped her shoulder companionably.

“Not exactly.”

“Were you trying to get sexy, for me?” He reached for her hair and his fingers played with the ends.

He saw her.
Lord, how humiliating.

She lowered her eyes and stared at her hands
.

He curled a finger under her chin and lifted until she met his eyes. So much tenderness shone from them, she trembled. Her lips parted on a sigh.

He whispered, “You only have to breathe to be sexy. Don’t you know that by now?” Denn stroked a maddening finger along her eyelid. “You look at me, and it does me in.” He traced the corner of her mouth. “You smile at me, and the sun comes out.” The finger slipped down the length of her throat. “You talk to me and that sweet voice of yours makes me ache inside.” He wrapped his hand around her neck and drew her slowly in, until she rested against him and his mouth could reach hers.

A breath away from kissing her, he murmured, “Now you’re touching me. Take what you want, Kendall. Anything you want.”

“You.” It came out little more than a croak. She grasped his shirt and tugged at it, until he pulled it over his head and revealed dusky, smooth muscles and a ridged abdomen. Her palms slipped over heated skin and the merest smattering of silky hair below his navel that arrowed toward the low waistband of his jeans. She fumbled with the button fly and he helped her, until the jeans lay in a heap on the floor. His socks came off with them. Narrow hips, covered by the briefest of briefs, strong thighs, long, long legs, all assailed her senses at once. She hesitated, unsure where to touch first.

“Everywhere,” he breathed into her mouth. “Touch me everywhere.”

Her heart pounding madly, Kendall put her hands on him.

Denn lay back on flannel sheets. The dimness of the room couldn’t disguise the wonder in Kendall’s eyes as she stared at him. All of him.

She traced his skin with her fingertips and he bit back a rough sigh. Her hands wreaked havoc everywhere they touched, from his chest to his hips to his thighs. She brushed over his erection, skittered away, paused, came back, then brushed again. Opening her hand, she cupped him.

I’ll never live through this.

His eyes closed on a long, low groan. He clenched his fists in the sheets.

Behind his shuttered lids, he let his other senses take over. He heard her breathing speed up each time she stroked him, his erection still covered by his briefs. Her slender fingers delved beneath the stretchy cotton and he inhaled sharply when they encircled his flesh. His hips lifted, seeking, encouraging. She pumped her hand, slowly, and his body followed the languid movement until he thought he’d go mad.

“Take them off.” His voice was a guttural rasp in the silent room. She emitted a barely there sigh, but his ears caught the sound. She paused, and he waited.

At last, she tugged at his briefs, sliding them over his thighs and then down his legs. He could almost taste his own relief when she returned to hold him. Desperate to see her hands on him, the way she stroked him, he lifted lids heavy with desire, to see her staring right at him.

Those gorgeous blue eyes . . . they’d take some getting used to.

She gave a shake of her head, and her curls slipped over one shoulder as she pulled her hands away. “Keep your eyes closed.” She whispered the order. His lips quirked in a strained smile, but he obeyed instantly. If she needed some sort of anonymity to continue, he’d give it to her. Anything to coax her into touching him again.

The sheets rustled as she shifted. He ached for her caress. Instead, her silky hair brushed along his leg. Then her lips, on his thigh, a fleeting kiss. His eyes snapped open.

Oh, holy hell.

She’d removed her demure nightgown and now hovered over him, flushed and naked. As she rose to her knees, his avid gaze locked on the sweet pucker of baby-pink nipples crowning her pretty rounded breasts. The span of her narrow waist flared into curvaceous flesh he already knew fit his palms nicely. One of her longs legs swung over him until she straddled his hips. Paused above him, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders, her eyes reflected determination even as her bottom lip quivered.

He reached for her hands and twined their fingers together. Hers were cold, with a fine tremor. Nerves, for sure. He’d bet anything this was her first time taking the lead in bed.

“You’re still in control, sweetheart. As long as you need to be.” His voice sounded rough and harsh even to his own ears.

She formed a shaky smile. Her fingers gripped his tightly. “Is this—all right? You don’t mind?” she whispered.

“Christ, no. Take it. Take everything.” He let her pin his hands on either side of his head. She probably didn’t realize how dominant her behavior truly was, and he gloried in her newfound confidence.

Go for it, sweetheart.

Her eyes closed, her slender body shuddering, she lowered until her heat pressed on him, and she shifted one hand, slid it down his chest, caught his flesh, palmed him firmly. She wriggled, once, and the gasp he uttered echoed around the room as she took him deeply into her body.

She sighed, a thin, needful sound. “Denn . . .” She leaned in, kissed him passionately, and moaned on his tongue when he bucked up against her. He’d never known anyone so tight, so hot. She relinquished his hand and he cupped her hips as she moved, erratically at first and then smoother, gaining assurance. She gripped the headboard, which brought her breasts close to his face. He reared up and caught a nipple between his lips, his tongue gentle on her tender skin, loving the pounding heartbeat against his mouth.

The sudden tremble in her thighs told him she’d begun to tire even as her body seemed to thrust faster. Her face wore a look of concentration, as if she had to accomplish this one task before she could let herself rest. Sexual tension was a wonderful thing, unless it ruined the experience. He didn’t want a single moment of hers to be anything but great, so he clasped her hips and eased her away until only a few inches of her heat sheathed him.

“What—” She wriggled, trying to deepen their contact.

“Shh. You’re wearing yourself out.” He slid his fingers between their bodies and probed gently, until he found the tiny bundle of nerves and rubbed the sensitive flesh. “Easy, sweetheart. Just go easy. It all feels good.” He guided her hips with his free hand.

“Ohh . . .” Her breath rushed out and her body melted against him, her head dropping to his shoulder as he helped her move on him. It wasn’t a hardship. In this position they both reaped the benefit of deep contact.

When she tightened and pulsed against his fingers, he pressed her hips down, hard, and reached for his own release. The coiling inside his body snapped powerfully as she convulsed around him. She turned her face to his neck and dampened his skin with hot tears.

“It’s all right, Kendall. It’s all good.” Shaken by the intensity of their joining, he caressed the curve of her spine from shoulder to hip. In the silent aftermath, he murmured to her, nonsensical, soothing half-words, until with a broken sigh, she fell asleep in his arms.

Careful not to jostle her, Denn pulled the covers over both of them and snuggled her close.

I’ll never let you go. I’ll never let anything hurt you, again.
Through veils of encroaching exhaustion, he made the promise, before he closed his eyes and slept.

“Thank you, please come again.” Kendall smiled at the elderly couple who had just purchased the only tandem bicycle she had in stock. They waved to her as they wheeled their new toy out the door. She’d never seen two happier customers.

Their excitement had been contagious, from the second they’d spotted the bicycle propped near the tent display, to the moment they both turned to her and exclaimed in unison, “We’ll take it!” Kendall had grinned through the entire transaction.

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. They’re like little kids.” Luna stood beside her and handed her a mug of coffee. “Here, have some caffeine. I made it myself.”

Dubiously, Kendall peered into the cup. The steaming brew was roughly the same color as her hair. It smelled fabulous. “What’s in it?”

“Caramel powder and some French vanilla syrup I brought from home. I make it for Denn all the time and he loves it.” Luna regarded her with a definite glint in her dark eyes. “You can make it when you stay over.” She giggled when Kendall gasped.

Hastily, Kendall set the mug on the counter. “How—I mean, when—”

She didn’t know what to say.

Luna darted around the counter and straightened a stack of tote bags a few customers had ransacked. Casually, she said, “I heard you yesterday morning.” Kendall squeaked in horror, and Luna flapped a hand in dismissal. “No, not
that.
Jeepers. You and Denn were talking in the kitchen before you left for the store.”

Relieved, Kendall sagged against the counter. If Luna had heard anything at all coming from Denn’s bedroom . . . just thinking about it made her heart flutter in panic. They’d only been together for a week and her shyness hadn’t slacked off much.

Even now, her face burned as she tried to gauge Luna’s overall mood. “Are you, um, is it okay with you that I’m dating your brother?”

“Well, I’d say you’re more than just dating him. Right?” Luna continued to nonchalantly fold merchandise. Kendall buried her face in her palms and moaned aloud.

She swiped her hands over her heated cheeks. “Luna, you’re so young—”

“I’m old enough to know about all that adult stuff.” Luna smoothed the stack of totes she just straightened. “Jo told me some things, and we have Health class, too. Denn’s said some junk. Mostly he’s kind of icked out by having the whole ‘sex talk’ with me. But I know about sex. Jo says you should only do it when you’re in love.” She chewed at her lip for a few seconds, and blurted, “Do you love Denn?”

A lightening bolt of panic shot straight up Kendall’s spine. She stuttered, “I, I—”

“Excuse me, do you have this in an extra large?” A middle-aged woman shoved a windbreaker at them, embroidered with the words, ‘I Drove The Alaskan Highway And Survived’ across the back.

Luna piped up. “I’ll go look in the stockroom.”

Kendall’s breath whooshed out and she steadied herself against the cash register as her customer followed Luna toward the rear of the store.

“And I thought I was ready for this? I must be off my onion,” she muttered as she retrieved her coffee mug and took a healthy swallow. Over the low murmur of shoppers milling around, Luna’s youthful chatter reached her when she rushed back to the counter with a windbreaker in her hands.

“Success! I found some different colors, too. I’ll hang them all up, Kennie.” Luna completed the sale and offered her customer a big smile. “Come see us again when you’re in town.”

“You’re just the sweetest young lady. Thank you for all your help.” The woman beamed at Luna and Kendall as she collected her purchase. She turned and waved when she reached the door.

Luna did a fast jig behind the counter, and grabbed Kendall in a bear hug. “This is so much fun.” She released Kendall after a final squeeze. “Did you like your coffee? I’ll show you how to do it. Denn’ll love you to pieces when you make it for him.” She paused, offering Kendall a cunning grin. “But I bet he already does. Love you, that is.” Before Kendall could utter a word of protest, or otherwise, Luna dashed toward the stockroom.

Sinking onto the high stool at one end of the counter, Kendall tried hard not to hyperventilate.

Jo drained the last of her orange soda and tossed the empty bottle in the recycling bin. She released a soft, long sigh as she shifted in her chair.

“I heard that.” Denn frowned at her in concern. “You need to start thinking ahead, Jo.” He rechecked the clip on his pistol before he returned it to its holster and fastened it on his belt. “Have you arranged a schedule for Ginny when she takes over?”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit worrying, Nulo. Everything’s set.” Jo busied herself with a stack of cancelled tickets.

Denn snorted. “Liar. I asked Ginny this morning. She says you haven’t done a thing.” He strode to her desk and sat on the edge, then placed a hand on her arm to gain her attention. “Jo, you have to start your LOA, the sooner the better. I can tell you’re uncomfortable and miserable.”

She swatted his hand off her arm. “I’m fine, you boob. I still have a month.” Her moodiness revealed a hell of a lot more than she knew, and Denn resisted yanking on his hair in frustration.

“You’re the most stubborn woman God ever placed on this earth. Do you
want
to give birth on your desk? Keep up this insanity and you will.” His angry expression softened when she turned a teary face toward him.

“Oh, honey.” He knelt at her side and gathered her into his arms, patting her back as she cried on his shoulder. “Come on, Jo. Let me drive you home.”

“Go to hell.” She sobbed harder.

Denn stroked her hair and tried not to panic. In the years he’d known her, Jo never cried, never showed a face less than cheerful. Even during her other pregnancies, she’d been happy and amazingly energetic right up until the day she actually delivered. Maybe something was going on with Frank or one of the kids.

He lifted her tear-streaked face. “Is everything good with the family?”

She sighed and pushed at him until he released her and sat back on his heels. Her restless fingers plucked the brightly patterned maternity shirt she wore. “They’re okay. Frank’s been great. I’m just having a little freak attack today.” She wiped her damp cheeks with the hem of her shirt. “Frank set up the cribs last night. We’ve got them stuck in a corner of our room and you know it barely leaves enough floor space to walk around. I knocked into one of them and broke the side slats out. What if it happened when a baby’s in there?” Her eyes filled again.

“Two cribs? Can’t you let them sleep together in one, at least for a few months?”

She pondered for a moment. “Yeah, I guess we could. But eventually they’ll need to sleep apart. You remember how fast Cal put on the pounds? He only weighed five-nine at birth. He outgrew that damned bassinet in no time. And the other bedrooms are packed.”

“Can you put them in with Jeffie?” Jo’s oldest had a solid head on his shoulders, not to mention his own bedroom. Surely a responsible kid like Jeffie could help watch over a couple of babies.

Jo gaped at him. “You want me to put two newborns in with a thirteen-year-old kid? Are you out of your mind?” She punched his arm. “Would you let Luna sleep with brand-new kids in the room and trust her to wake up every time they breathe wrong?”

“Well, when you say it like that . . .”

“You’re a baboon, I swear.” Jo regarded him with irritation as she squirmed in her chair. She pressed a hand to her lower back, grumbling, “Damned bed. I keep telling Frank to get a new one.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Abruptly Denn stood and grasped Jo under the arms, hauling her out of the chair. He curled his arm around her shoulders. “I’m driving you home, then I’m tracking Frank down. You either get in bed with a heating pad, or else I’m taking you up to Clara Morgan. In fact, I’ll call Thom right now. He’s in Bethel all week.” Denn reached for the phone.

She slapped it out of his hand. “Knock it off, Denn. I mean it. I’m not flying to Aniak, and besides, that clinic’s always full.” She threw him an exasperated look. “You know my sister’s coming over from New Mina when the time comes. She’s delivered all the kids. Now, let go of me.” Her struggles caught him by surprise and he released her. She nabbed the edge of the desk in one hand and eased herself into her chair with a sigh and a grimace.

“You are so damned stubborn.” He turned on her, gripping the arms of her chair to lock her in place. “I’m worried about you, Cream Puff.” She winced at the nickname as he plowed on. “Your back’s been aching for days. You’re retaining fluid in your ankles, you work way too hard, and you’re not going to hang out in a stupid office all day, until your blood goes septic. I read medical journals, okay?” he protested when she flung him a dirty look. “I know what happens when pregnant women swell up in their extremities this close to delivery.”

“For God’s sake, Denn, I’m not going to break water on my chair, squat in a corner, and drop deuces! And never mind my extremities.” Jo rubbed both hands over her belly. “If I lay around the house for a month, I’ll be a freaking loon by the time these kids are born. Frank’s at the slope for another three weeks, you know. I need to work.”

“And I need my best friend to be healthy when she delivers my godsons, okay?” Denn sank to his knees before her and caught her hands. He held them to his lips and kissed the knuckles gently. “Jo, you have to take care of yourself. The kids can help. I talked with Kip the other day, and he told me he’s worried about you. I know he’s only ten, but he can fix a sandwich for you and bring you stuff when you need it.”

His voice softened persuasively. “At least if you go home, you can rest. The older kids can keep the younger ones in line, and Luna would be happy to stay with you in the mornings before she goes to the trading post. She doesn’t head out there until ten or so.”

At the mention of The Last Outfitter, Jo’s eyes, still puffy from crying, went sly. Her slow smile made him back away from her warily as he let go of her hands.

She relaxed in her chair with a wicked grin. “So, Denn, tell me—”

“Don’t even bother to ask. I’m not telling you a thing.”

“Oh, come on. Humor me. I haven’t had sex in three months.” She hooted at the growl he emitted. “I just want to know if she’s making you happy. You know, in the Biblical sense.”

“Jo, I’m warning you . . .”

But her grin had widened, her complexion not as pale and her eyes brighter. Hell, if his love life made her smile and had her feeling more like her old self, he’d let her mortify him.

“It’s great. All right? She’s wonderful . . .” His voice trailed off to a raspy whisper as an image of Kendall in his bed eased out everything else. Her hair a riotous mass of sunny brown curls tangled on his pillow. Silky, firm skin barely covered by her nightgown, long legs, slender arms, pretty hands tucked under her chin as she rested on her side. In the daylight pouring through his bedroom window, she’d slept deeply, undisturbed by the morning sun, which struck her face at an angle and revealed the purity of her profile. Beside her, Denn had fought the urge to awaken her, roll her sleepy body beneath his and make love to her. Only the thought of Luna, sleeping two doors down, had kept him in check.

“Wow. That good, huh?” Jo’s knowing, teasing voice snapped him out of it.

“Shut up, Jo.” But he tempered his words with a smile.

As she cleared her email messages, Evelyn Herington plotted out her day. Mid-morning meeting, a fast luncheon with a few of her Women’s Guild associates, more meetings.

Dinner with Conroy, at seven sharp . . . the only two hours of the day worth anything to her. She swung her leather executive chair to the credenza behind her desk and fingered the silver-framed photograph resting next to a vase of baby yellow roses.
Love of my life. My reason for living.

A monster.

With a shudder of guilty self-loathing, Evelyn placed the photograph behind the vase of roses. Just the edges were now visible along with the very top of Conroy’s deep blond hair.
Golden Boy. My treasure.

She couldn’t bear to look at him.

He’d been the most beautiful baby she’d ever seen. Her friends showered attention on him. Complete strangers would beg him for just one sweet smile. Evelyn had never employed a nanny, though Grayson ridiculed her daily for her slavish devotion to what he considered a nonentity.

“For Christ’s sake, Evvie, he does nothing all day but eat, shit, and sleep. He drools on everything. It’s repugnant. Keep him away from me.” Grayson would give his only son a look filled with revulsion, snap his newspaper, and retreat to his study to read the stock exchange and smoke those foul cigars he adored. It didn’t matter to Evelyn, for Grayson’s conspicuous absence from his own son’s upbringing meant she could spend all her time with her golden boy.

Spoiled? Of course he was spoiled. But he was so beautiful. Evelyn moved the vase to the left and gave herself over to the need. Her eyes soaked him in as she’d done for so many years.

The photo had been professionally shot three years ago in early spring. He’d worn the formal Armani suit she’d bought him for Christmas. His skin had a lovely tan from wintering in Hawaii, the toasty color making his eyes seem warmer, his hair even more golden. He leaned casually against a giant marble urn filled with peacock feathers in the expansive foyer of their Portland estate. Evelyn’s eyes darkened with emotion as she recalled what happened, mere hours after the photo session had ended—

He’d brought Victoria to dinner and announced their engagement. And nothing afterward had ever been the same again.

With a weary sigh, Evelyn rose to her feet, crossed her office and locked the door. She moved to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the formal gardens of the Herington Trust Complex and pulled the drapes tight.

Her wall safe, hidden behind an original Monet watercolor, didn’t hold anything of value these days. When Grayson was alive, he loved to raid her safe and use its contents for gambling. Her professional jewelry, the gold coins she was fond of collecting. Nothing was ever secure when Grayson was either high or drunk and desired instant collateral to use on the horses. Or off-track betting. Or his frequent trips to Las Vegas. After a while, it ceased to matter to Evelyn.