What Price Paradise (18 page)

Leaning his forehead against the door frame, Tate closed his eyes. But what if Diane really needed him? Pain like jagged shards of glass splintered inside him until he was shaking. No. He couldn’t play those games again. He’d been so damn confident when he’d told Abby this would work for them. And he had to stay that way if he wanted a chance to raise his child.

Maybe it was better to just accept Buddy’s word for the phone call. And, he realized suddenly, deep down he didn’t want to know if it had been Diane. From now on she was just going to have to find someone else to rely on. He had his own family to worry about and they were all that mattered. Not even for Diane would he jeopardize his chances with his child.

From upstairs, he heard the sound of footsteps crossing the hall and he turned away from the phone, heading up to the bathroom. He needed a shower before bed.

* * * * *

Abby lay still, listening to the sound of booted feet coming up the stairs. They went straight to the bathroom and in a few minutes she heard the shower come on. From down the hall, Buddy’s TV went off. A breeze blew in through the windows, stirring the curtains, and from the direction of the creek she heard Dog’s excited bark, faint with distance, as he chased a rabbit in the moonlight. From nearer at hand came the high-pitched squeal of horses bickering over some imagined slight.

The first night she’d spent in this house, she’d been too exhausted, too emotionally drained to let the strangeness of the night keep her awake. But every night since then, it had taken her forever to go to sleep. The sound of traffic had been replaced by the quite chirp of crickets. The laughter and voices from people walking by had been usurped by the croaking of tree frogs.

What she had at first considered utter silence now seemed thunderous with the sounds of life. And she was finally getting used to it, even starting to enjoy it. Nature’s lullaby, she thought. You just had to be willing to listen hard enough to hear the melody.

The water went off and she heard the metal rings of the shower curtain slide down the rod. Instantly, her mind presented her with an image of Tate, moisture streaming down his tanned body, as he reached for a towel. She shut her eyes to force it away, but it seemed to be glued to the back of her eyelids.

Way sooner than she was expecting, the bedroom door opened and she didn’t need her imagination anymore. The real thing was right there in the room with her. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was using another one to dry his hair as he walked toward the bed.

“You haven’t been getting sick the last few days. I guess the medicine Doctor Spanos gave you is helping?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.” He hung the towel he’d been drying his hair with over the back of a chair then, before she could even blink, he dropped the second towel and threw it to join the first. She got only the merest glimpse of all that bare skin before he slid under the blankets next to her, but it was enough to make her mouth go dry.

He glanced down at her and the corners of his lips turned up in the same smile he’d had at the garden. “Goodnight, Abby.” He leaned over and put a tiny peck on her lips before turning out the lamp next to the bed.

The bed rocked as he settled into it, adjusting his position until he was comfortable. Abby lay still, afraid to even breathe. Until she realized he had his back to her. A small tinge of disappointment wiggled its way through her. In spite of the fact that he’d told her not to worry about the sex, she’d thought…what? That he’d swoop her up and make passionate love to her? The kind of lovemaking she’d only read about?

You’re stupid
, she chastised herself silently.
Things like that don’t happen in real life. And even if they did, it’s not you he wants.
But even knowing that didn’t quell the urge she had to run her hands over that body, to explore each wonderful inch until she knew him by heart.

It was going to be a long night, she decided, staring wide-eyed into the darkness.

* * * * *

The sound of buzzing woke her to the pearly light of morning’s first rays, and to the sensation of smothering. Instinctively, she tried to reach the alarm clock, but she couldn’t move. Something was pinning her to the bed.

No, she thought. Not something, someone. Tate. He was lying half on top of her, his leg and arm holding her securely in place. Even as she became fully, startlingly alert, his hand moved across the bare skin at her waist, drifting lower with each moment.

But what alarmed her even more than the movement was the reaction her body seemed to be having to his touch. Her nipples were hardened into erect points, so tender that just the brush of her nightshirt against them sent jolts of feeling skittering to the pit of her stomach.

Tate’s chin was buried on her shoulder, but she managed to turn her head enough to see his face. His eyes were closed. Was it possible he was still asleep and didn’t know what he was doing to her?

By the time the thought was completely formed, his hand had slipped under the elastic of her panties. Panic hit her. With her one free hand on his shoulder, she tried to push him away. He wasn’t budging.

“Tate. Please. I have to get up.”

He mumbled something that she couldn’t understand, but his hand stopped and he shifted slightly. It still wasn’t enough to let her move.

“Tate.” She shoved against him again.

This time he rolled all the way off her and, when his eyes opened, she could see sleepy confusion in them.

“What?” His voice sounded raspy and there was dark stubble on his chin and jaw. “What’s wrong?”

Abby tried to keep her own voice calm even though her heart was slamming into her ribs. “I have to go start breakfast. You were holding me down and I couldn’t move.”

“I was?” He rubbed his face, his eyes blearily fixing on hers. “Sorry. What time is it?”

“Almost six. I guess the clock’s been going off for a while.” She reached over and hit the stop button.

She’d already slid from the bed when it occurred to her that she was going to have to get dressed before she went downstairs. And Tate was showing no signs of getting up. She was thinking about taking her clothes across the hall to the bathroom when the sound of the toilet flushing changed her mind. Apparently Buddy was already up.

Stopping in front of the dresser, she pulled a drawer open then took a quick look over her shoulder. Tate was leaned against the headboard, his knees raised under the blankets, but his eyes had drifted shut again. Without pausing, Abby yanked the nightshirt over her head and was reaching into the drawer when the hair stood up on her arms. She didn’t even have to look to know he was watching her.

“You have a wonderful body, Abby. There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.” The raspy tone was still in his voice, but it had a deeper, huskier quality now.

“No,” Abby whispered. She was frozen, trembling so hard that the drawer under her hands was vibrating. Why was he doing this to her? She knew what she looked like. Was he cruel enough to make fun of her?

She lifted her eyes, her gaze meeting his in the mirror and her knees went weak at the smoldering intensity in their blue depths. She could literally
feel
his gaze moving over her and the sensation galvanized her into action. Grabbing the first T-shirt she came to, she pulled it over her head.

“I mean it, Abby. I’ve always liked the way you look. I used to watch you work at Delly’s, even before…that night.”

He’d watched her? Impossible. And yet, she could remember a few times when she’d looked up to meet those crystal blue eyes across the crowed room. She had thought it was accidental. A coincidence. Could it be true?

Abby pulled her jeans on then reached for her sneakers, tiny bubbles of euphoria bursting inside her. He had noticed her! But the doubt demon still had her in its grasp. “I’m too skinny.”

“No, you’re not. A little underweight, maybe, but not skinny. And you’ve already gained a few pounds.”

After fumbling twice, Abby finally got her shoes tied. She couldn’t look at him as she stood. “Breakfast will be ready in a little while.”

* * * * *

Abby was in a daze as she rushed to slap sausages into a skillet. He liked the way she looked. She’d heard it with her own ears. And seen it with her own eyes. You couldn’t look at someone the way he had looked at her if you didn’t like what you saw.

A smile tilted up the corners of her lips as she put the coffee on. It was nothing short of a miracle that she didn’t spill the grounds all over the kitchen. She felt like dancing. She had the wildest urge to sing. A giggle escaped her at that idea. With her voice, she’d probably scare the feathers right off the chickens.

Soon, she had a stack of pancakes piled high on a platter and the smell of food filled the house. She was just about to set the table when Tate came in. Wearing a plain white T-shirt that hugged his body and jeans that clung to his long legs, he looked even better than he had yesterday.

“Where’s Buddy?”

“I guess he’s still getting ready for school.” Abby turned back to the cabinet to get the plates and felt Tate move up behind her. His left hand curled around her waist as he reached for a coffee cup with his right. He was so big, so strong and so very male. She wanted to lean back against him and just stay there forever.

Almost as though he knew what she was thinking, his hand slowly slid under her T-shirt, this time curving around the bare skin. “Just right,” he whispered, his breath warm on her ear.

Abby’s insides turned into a quivering mass of liquid heat that scorched every nerve ending in her body. When his lips brushed the skin on her neck she knew that if he didn’t stop she was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. She had no choice. Her bones were dissolving. “The p-pancakes are ready,” she managed to choke out.

“I’d rather have you,” he murmured.

As she braced herself on the countertop to keep from falling, her head whipped around to stare at him. She found herself lost in his eyes, couldn’t have looked away if the house had burst into flames.

It seemed to take an eternity for his lips to descend and even then it wasn’t what she was expecting. His mouth barely touched hers, his tongue flicking out to gently tease her parted lips. She could no more stop the shudder that ran through her than she could stop the tiny whimper at the back of her throat. He was killing her, slowly but surely.

“Wow! Pancakes!”

Abby jumped ten feet at Buddy’s voice, her heart leaping into her throat and lodging there.

Almost casually, Tate stepped away from her, reaching again for the cup he’d abandoned. But his gaze stayed locked with hers. “Looks that way,” he replied to Buddy’s exclamation.

She tore her gaze away from Tate’s and picked up the plates, her hands shaking. “Buddy, why don’t you take them to the table? I’ll get the syrup.” Her voice, she realized, was shaking almost as badly as her hands, but Buddy didn’t seem to notice.

Making a wide detour around Tate, she got the syrup out of the pantry. By the time she started toward the table, he had sat down, a foot crossed over his knee as he drank his coffee.

“Can I drive the truck to school today?” Buddy was looking at Tate hopefully as he took the syrup from Abby.

“You know better.”

“Dang, Tate. When are we gonna get another truck?”

Abby saw him glance at her thoughtfully. “I think you’re right, Buddy. We do need another truck. Tell you what. I’ll call Joe later today. He’s got that old Ford he’s been trying to sell. It’s not real pretty, but it still runs and we can get it cheap.”

“All right!” Buddy’s delighted yell rattled the glass in the windows.

“Before you get too excited, you pay for the maintenance and the gas. And the first ticket you get, it’s going up on blocks.”

“When can we get it?”

“Later this week. But it’ll have to have insurance and tags before you start driving it.”

“No problem. I’ve been saving up.”

Abby watched Tate finish off his breakfast while they talked. When he was done, he pushed his chair back and stood. With a quick glance at Buddy, he stopped next to her. “I’ll be working around the barn today if you need me.”

She nodded, wondering why she heard a lot more in that statement than the words he’d actually spoken. And worse, he wasn’t even out of sight before she was fighting the urge to follow him.

She was killing him. Slowly but surely. Tate dumped a bucket of feed into the grain box of one stall and went back for more, shaking his head in frustration. A constant ache, low in his abdomen, had been with him since Saturday night. Even before then, now that he thought about it.

That dream he’d had this morning sure hadn’t helped the situation. It had been the first of its kind he’d experienced since he was Buddy’s age. If Abby hadn’t woke him when she had, he’d probably have embarrassed both of them. But damn, it had been nice while it lasted. He’d been making love to Abby and things had just started to get interesting.

He sighed as he dumped feed into another trough. She had been so obviously embarrassed when he’d seen her getting dressed. He’d tried then to let her know he wanted her. And just in case she hadn’t gotten the message, he’d practically given her a written invitation later in the kitchen. You couldn’t get much blunter than that.