Wishmakers (37 page)

“I won't!”

“You won't what?”

“Sleep with you again!”

He laughed. “Want to bet on it?”

“You're conceited and crude!”

“Yeah, I am. Come to think about it, we didn't do much
sleeping
that night, did we?”

“You may think I'm old-fashioned and super-straight, but as I told you before, I don't sleep around.”

“Thank God!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I'm glad you don't sleep around.” His eyes were sparkling with laughter.

“Don't you dare laugh at me, you…you hairy ape!”

“If you're worried about your reputation, we can get married.”

“That's very kind of you.” She murmured softly, suddenly self-conscious. “Thank you very much, but I must decline your most generous offer to
save
my reputation.”

“Good. I don't want you to marry me out of gratitude. I don't want you to marry me for any reason except the right one.”

“And that is?” Her throat was tight, and the words were difficult to get out.

“Love, little sweet one. Love, spelled L-O-V-E. The only way I'll marry you is if you love me madly and want to live with me for the rest of your life, and because you want to share my dreams, my problems, raise my children, and be my companion as we grow old.” His eyes raced over her and then rested on her trembling lips. She thought he was going to kiss her, and she moved back quickly.

“Is that all, Mr. Evans?”

“No, Glory, Glory. That isn't all. I want you to want me every night of my life as you did the other night. I want you to give yourself to me, laugh, play, break out of that shell you've built around yourself. I want to take care of you and Peter. I want to be the most important person in your lives.”

“You think that covers all the bases, don't you? What about what
I
want?” The question was meant to sound menacing, as she tried to hide her confused thoughts behind anger. She felt as if she were floating away, losing control of her senses.

“What do you want, pretty girl?” He tugged at a strand of her hair and leaned close so he could look into her face.

Pride kept her rigid. “I
don't
want to raise my son in a hippie commune. I want more security for him than that! I want us to live a more structured life: steady income, a roof over our heads, a chance to make friends, plant roots somewhere. I want permanence.”

“That's important to you, huh? You had all of that with the stuffed shirt.” He yanked her to him, lowered his head, and kissed her softly, then more urgently. It took her breath from her. She struggled without success, and then finally surrendered to his superior strength. At last he lifted his head. His arms held her so tightly, she thought she would faint, and the blood pounded in her temples.

“You don't know what you want, Glory, Glory,” he muttered. “I
know
that I want you in my life, in my bed, and…hell! I want you, period!” He grabbed her hand and held it against the aching hardness that throbbed between his legs. When she gasped and tried to pull her hand away, he tightened his grip on her wrist and held it there. “You've done that to me. You do it almost every time I'm with you. Dammit! Do you think I
want
to think of you every waking moment? I haven't had a peaceful moment since I met you. Sometimes I get so frustrated I could beat you!” She winced at the anger in his voice and tried to return his gaze coolly.

“Don't you threaten me, you…sex maniac!”

His scorching eyes ran over each feature of her face; then he laughed, a deep, rumbling, masculine laugh that boomed in her ears. He moved his face close to hers and tickled the end of her nose with his mustache. His eyes were sparkling green pools of amusement.

“Oh, Glory, you're a lot of things, but boring isn't one of them. You'd make a wonderful wife for a…sex maniac. It's almost as much fun to tease you as it is to make love to you. C'mon, honey. Melt a little and kiss me back.”

Gloria squeezed her eyelids tightly together and tried desperately not to think about how warm and comforting it was to be in his arms. She fought the temptation to yield to the persuasive voice and gentle, coaxing lips. She was concentrating so hard that his hand moved under her jacket, and his long fingers delved beneath the waistband of her jeans and thin panties, and cupped the fullness of her rounded naked bottom before she came out of her trance.

“Stop that! Get your sneaky hand out of there!” she demanded. She pushed on his chest with all her strength. The arm across her shoulders tightened, the fingers in her jeans pinched her bottom. She let out a shriek. “Stop that!”

“Not until you kiss me.” Laughter lines crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Gloria considered kicking him, but decided to capitulate due to his superior strength. She despised herself for doing it, but she forced herself to kiss him lightly on the lips, then moved her face as far back as his hold on her would allow.

“That won't do a-tall—not a-tall,” he drawled. “Put your arms around my neck and kiss me like I know you can.” His voice was a husky whisper, stirring little waves of response inside of her.

“What about Peter?”

“Happily playing on the porch,” he murmured. His fingers caressed her flesh and traveled gently down the valley between her buttocks.

Gloria's arms moved up and around his neck, and she closed her eyes as she placed her mouth on his. A low triumphant sound came from his throat, crowing his power over her, but she didn't care anymore. When he lifted his lips to demand that she open her mouth, she unhesitantly obeyed. His tongue stroked her smooth, even lips, and the hand in her jeans caressed her bottom. Gloria felt a sudden rip in the fabric of her resentment that she had so tenuously wrapped around herself as protection from him. Swamped as she was by mounting desire, it became impossible for her to remain passive. Every cell in her body surged to life, blocking out everything except the touch of his mouth, the warm strength of his arms, and the gentle fingers inside her jeans.

A banging on the car door brought Gloria out of the haze and into the present. Her mind was foggy. Jack raised his mouth from hers and she looked over her shoulder to see Peter peering at them through the window. Jack reached across her lap and cranked down the window.

“How ya doin', Bronco?”

“What was you doing to Mom?”

“I was kissing her.”

“Did she want you to?”

“Yeah—I think so.”

Peter frowned. “Did you, Mom? Did you want Jack to kiss you?”

Gloria saw the worry on his small face. “Yes, I did. Grown-ups…ah…like to kiss…sometimes.”

“You never kissed
him!
You like Jack, don't you, Mom?” Peter said hopefully. “You like him a lot?”

“Sure she does,” Jack said, and the fingers in her jeans pinched gently.

“Okay…you can kiss her.”

“Thanks, ol' man. We'll talk about this sometime, but now we'd better get inside and get you settled in before it gets dark. Get a hold on Cisco,” Jack called, and reluctantly withdrew his hand from Gloria's naked flesh. He reached behind the seat for a leash and tossed it out to Peter. “Tie him up, Bronco. He doesn't know enough yet to stay away from a skunk.” The arm around Gloria shook her gently in an attempt to make her look at him. She gazed out the window, and he spoke to her profile. “The sacrifices a man must make sometimes are enough to tear him up.”

“Bull—”

“Don't be crude, sweetheart! Come on, shake a leg. If you're nice, I'll give you the fifty-cent tour of my home.”

When Gloria stepped inside Jack's house, her first thought was that he had obviously put a lot of work into fixing it up. The long narrow main room was insulated and paneled. A big iron cookstove sat along side a white refrigerator-freezer. The room was sparsely furnished, but comfortable. A queen-size bed and bookshelves dominated the far end of the room. The living space, kitchen, and sleeping area all flowed together and were amazingly neat.

“No electricity, so there's no TV,” Jack said on his way to the back of the room with a suitcase under each arm. “Also, the bathroom is out back. There's hot water in the cookstove reservoir, if you can bathe in a washtub.”

“If there's no electricity, how does the refrigerator work?”

“Bottled gas, sweetheart. We've also got a gaslight. By the way, back in the town's heyday, this building was the funeral parlor,” he said gleefully as he went out the door.

“Wonderful,” Gloria snapped over her shoulder. A small hand tugged at hers, and she looked down at her son.

“You like it here, don't you, Mom? Can we stay with Jack? You like him, don't you?”

The tight, worried, anxious little face pulled at her heartstrings. She knelt down beside him and folded him in her arms.

“Is that what you want to do, Peter?”

“I love Jack. He won't let
him
take us back.”

“And I love you. We can't stay here forever, honey, but we'll stay a little while. Later on we must find us a place where I can get a job. Next year you'll be going to school.” She tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

“Are we having a family conference?” Jack asked when he came in carrying the rest of the luggage. “If so, I want in on it.”

“Mom says we'll stay here a little while, Jack. Then she's got to get a job in a town where I can go to school. When I grow up I'll get a job and take care of Mom.”

Tears welled up in Gloria's eyes and she hugged her small son to her so he wouldn't see them, but she couldn't hide them from Jack.

“Ya just might have ta fight me fer the job, Bronco,” Jack murmured in a staged voice. “C'mon, put up yer dukes!” He crouched and doubled up his fists. Shrieking with laughter, Peter broke out of his mother's embrace. He knotted his small fists and began to pound Jack on the thigh. Jack groaned and doubled over as if in pain.

Gloria hastily wiped her tear-drenched eyes. Obviously Jack had played this game with her son before. With Jack, Peter was not at all quiet and withdrawn as he had been back in Ohio, where he had experienced Marvin's dislike. Now he was a personable, outgoing little boy, and Jack was responsible for the change.
Jack's enjoying himself, too,
Gloria thought.
He really and truly likes Peter!

Jack lit the gas lamp and added more fuel to the cookstove. “When it gets really cold, I fire up the potbellied stove, too, and the two stoves keep this place surprisingly warm. But most of the time the cookstove is enough. How about ham and eggs for supper?”

“Fine. I'll fix it.” Gloria dipped water from the reservoir and washed her hands in the granite washbowl. She could see Jack watching her. She'd show him that she wasn't helpless in these primitive surroundings. Her grandmother, on the farm in Ohio, had a wood-burning cookstove. She'd spent summers with her while she was growing up. She'd learned how to build up the fire, shake down the ashes, and bank it for the night. “Move out of the way, I'll have supper ready in no time,” she said, lifting the stove lid and setting an iron skillet directly over the flame.

“Hummm…hidden talents. This woman is keeping secrets from me.” He watched her as she placed the slices of ham in the skillet. “Cook plenty, honey. I'm hungry as a bear.” She raised her brows and looked pointedly at his beard. He laughed and scratched his chin. “You'd better get used to it, Glory. I'd sure hate to shave off these
glorious
whiskers. It's taken two years to grow them.” When she didn't answer, he said, “No comment?”

“No comment.”

“Okay. I'll leave it to you. I've got a bedroll and a camp cot in the back room. I'll make up a bed…for Peter,” he added softly as he passed her.

Gloria's back stiffened, but she refused to rise to the bait.

CHAPTER TEN

I
N SPITE OF
the nagging feeling that she and Peter should not be here, that everything she'd ever believed in revolted at the thought of living in this primitive outback with a man like Jack Evans, Glory felt safe and peacefully content. She realized that if anyone could help her out of the predicament she was in, it was Jack.

After dinner she gave Peter a sponge bath, put him in his flannel pajamas, and tucked him in the big bed. He called for Jack to come and say good-night, then was almost instantly asleep.

Gloria was standing with her hands on her hips wondering how she was going to change her clothes, much less bathe herself, when she felt his hands on her shoulders. She jumped, and her frightened heart began to pound.

“Did I scare you?” Jack murmured.

“Don't sneak up on me like that.”

He grinned. “I wasn't sneaking. You didn't hear me because your mind was far away. Peter is asleep.”

“You must have worn him out today.”

“Come sit down.”

“I'm trying to figure out how I can hang a sheet in the corner so I'll have some privacy to bathe.”

“Why? I've already seen all of you. Remember?”

“Yes!” she snapped. “And you're no gentleman to remind me!”

“I guess I'm no gentleman to ask you this either—but do you have to use the bathroom?” When she didn't answer, he laughed softly. “Embarrassed, sweetheart? Don't be. It's a natural function. I noticed you let Peter go outside the back door. Do you want me to get a chamber pot for him when I go to town?”

“No need. We'll only be here a day or two.”

He took his jacket from the peg on the wall and draped it around her shoulders. He put a flashlight in her hand. “Come on. I'll point you in the right direction and wait in case you're attacked by a band of marauding Indians.” The tone of his voice was light and teasing and intimate.

This is absolutely unreal,
Gloria thought as he guided her to the door with an arm about her waist. Unreal as it was, she had never been as physically aware of a man as she was this big, gruff, hairy, sometimes aggravating man, who was so thoughtful of her and her son. Equally unreal was the overwhelming feeling of security she had when she was with him.

The new privy stood like a sentinel in the light from the sliver of moon coming up over the crest of the mountain. Gloria was not a stranger to outdoor toilets and realized this one had been constructed for comfort as well as for privacy and sanitation. She chuckled when she saw the reading material stacked neatly on the bench—
Sports Illustrated, Field and Stream, Playboy.
She'd have to bring out
Women's World,
she thought with a suppressed giggle. But on second thought it was too cold to linger longer than was absolutely necessary.