DYLAN CLEANED UP, then braced his hands on the sink and stared at his reflection. Now what are you going to do, hotshot?
He knew what he wanted to do. Pull the drapes tight, crawl back into bed with Liza and sink into sleep with her all soft and warm, curled around him. And a few hours from now, wake up and sink himself back into all that soft warmth. Only this time he’d control himself, let her take them where she wanted them to go.
What it was about her that got his primal instincts all riled up, he had no idea. He’d taken her like a damn caveman or something. His lips quirked. Okay, so maybe he’d taken a bit more care with her, but still, that’s the way she made him feel. Me man, you woman. You all mine.
Jesus.
But it didn’t matter what he wanted to do. He had to go. He had to be at the airport an hour from now. He should hop in the shower here and save the time, drop by the office and change into the spare set of clothes he should have changed into at some point the endless night before. And just the idea of taking a hot steamy shower in Liza’s hotel room brought all sorts of images to mind, none of them having to do with efficiency.
“She’s in your blood,” he told his reflection, then reached to turn on the shower, only to find an erotically rumpled Liza standing in the doorway. Something about the tangle of linens she’d pulled around her was far sexier than if she’d simply appeared in the flesh. Flesh he found he was dying to taste again.
He wondered if she’d heard him, what she’d think of that little revelation, but all she said was, “Shower for one?”
There were a hundred things he wanted to say to her, not the least of which was how he’d love to spend the day making love to her, in the shower, on the floor of the bathroom, on the desk in the other room…. But what he said was what he had to say. “I have to be somewhere in an hour.”
She simply nodded. He should appreciate that. He’d known going in that she understood what was happening between them was an interlude at best. Instead it irked. Not that he wanted whining or temper or, God forbid, begging. Mostly because he was close to doing all three himself. But a little pout wouldn’t have hurt any.
“You keep going on no sleep like this and you’re not doing anyone any favors,” she said. “Surely the meeting can be rescheduled. If you’re that irreplaceable, they’ll wait.”
He smiled. “I bet you were really good at what you did.”
“I was,” she said matter-of-factly. “Do you want me to make a call, work this problem out for you?”
His lips quirked. He had no doubt she could do just that. “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. If you’re so good at your job, why did you leave?”
The sudden shift in conversation made her pause, and he realized she didn’t really talk a lot about herself. Most women of his acquaintance loved to feel important, and that often manifested itself in long monologues of how they spent every minute of their days. Maybe it was because she’d spent so many years deflecting the spotlight to her clients that she simply didn’t realize she’d closed herself off in that way. Or maybe she was just a really private person.
No, that wasn’t it. Shy and retiring were two words that would never be used in conjunction with Liza Sanguinetti. Which was also why she’d probably been good at her job.
The odd thing was, he wanted to hear about every second of her day, about what she’d done as a public relations person, where her family was, were they proud of her, what her dreams were and… Jesus, Jackson, one little roll in the hay and you’ve gone right over the edge.
“All work and no play left Liza without a real life,” she answered bluntly. “Actually, my work was playing a great deal of the time, which was the real problem. I needed to get off the party-go-round and grow up, I suppose.” Short, succinct, nary an extraneous detail.
He smiled, and continued pushing despite her obvious desire to leave the subject alone. Maybe because of it. “And what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Still working on that.” Before he could ask her anything else, she said, “So, where is the meeting?”
He thought about ignoring the question to prod her some more, but he was standing naked in her bathroom and he did have a meeting to attend. “Vegas. I have to be at the airstrip in an hour.”
Her eyes widened a bit. “Vegas? Oh, right, you said your old job had come back to rear its ugly head. Then the fire at the motel is related to something you were involved with in your former line of work? Is that why you thought I might be in danger? Because I was with you and you were the target? But why the motel? I don’t see how that could be connected to… What? What’s so funny?”
He swore he could almost see the gears in her mind spin, and damn if that didn’t turn him on, too. He tugged at the linen sheet and she shuffled closer. He couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter that he had to walk away at some point and that she was going to drive away even if he didn’t. He wasn’t walking yet and she was standing right there. And he had to touch her. “I just enjoy watching you be you, that’s all. You fascinate me.”
She grinned, but there was something almost a bit…nervous dancing in her eyes. He liked it that he could make her nervous. He suspected not many men had. God, here he went with the caveman thing again.
Then she pressed a red fingernail in the dent in his chin and he found he didn’t care what game they were playing, as long as it meant she was right here in his arms.
“Glad I can amuse you, Sheriff.” She trailed the finger down to his chest, and damn if she didn’t have him stirring again. Whatever nerves he might have seen were gone now, replaced by a mischievous light that he knew boded trouble. Problem was, he wasn’t all that put off by a little trouble just now.
“Just how long a drive is it to the airstrip?”
“Twenty minutes, give or take. But I have to stop by the station and—”
Her hand trailed lower as the steam from the running shower began to billow around them. “That gives us, what, at least a good ten, twelve minutes to work up a decent lather.” She let the sheet drop. “What do you say?”
His pulse kicked up, along with other parts of him. “I soap you first?”
She stretched up and kissed him, then stepped behind the shower curtain. A long, very appreciative groan followed.
Dylan didn’t even bother berating himself for letting her get to him. Again. After all, he was only human. And she was…she was like a fever on perpetual spike.
He followed her into the shower and a moment later was groaning as well, but not just because the hot water felt so good.
She’d sabotaged him with body soap. Followed quickly with clever little hands that lathered him in all the right places.
“Liza—”
“Turn around and hold on to the towel rack,” she instructed. “Eight minutes left and I plan to use them wisely.”
Soap-foamed fingers and her slippery body sliding past him encouraged him not to argue.
She started at his ankles and worked her way up. His knees threatened to give way when she cupped him from behind. His groan of appreciation was met with a slide of slick skin up and over his buttocks. Breasts, nipples, belly and… “Don’t stop,” he demanded hoarsely.
“You wish.”
He did wish. In fact, he could make a number of wishes right at that moment.
“Turn around.”
He did, gladly. Because she continued her ministrations, tipping her head back so the water rinsed the soap bubbles from his skin…and cascaded down over her kneeling form. He knew it shouldn’t affect him so, seeing her kneeling before him, knowing she was the one that held all the power—literally—in her own small hands. But it did, viscerally. Which became immediately obvious to her as well.
She grinned up at him, mouthed “my turn” and slipped him fully into her mouth.
He could have come right then. And if he hadn’t just climaxed less than a half hour earlier, probably would have. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the ride.
Far too soon she was letting him go, turning off the water and reaching out for towels.
He might have whined. In fact, he was pretty sure that whimper of disappointment had come from him.
“Sorry, Sheriff, time’s up.” She wrapped a towel around her body and tossed him one. “I’d help, but you have a meeting to make.” And then she was gone, leaving him standing in a dwindling cloud of steam.
“You should have let me have my turn earlier,” she called out, as if she’d read his thoughts. And he wasn’t entirely sure she couldn’t.
He stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, to find her back in her sundress, combing out her hair in front of the dresser mirror. When she said nothing, he reached for his clothes, glancing at the bed, then at her, and wondering how goodbye had come rushing up at him like this. Only it hadn’t really rushed. In fact, he’d postponed it longer than he should have.
She scooped up her purse and bag as he slipped on his boots and tucked in his shirt.
“So, that’s where you hide them,” she said, fingering the cuffs he’d stuffed in the back of his waistband. Right next to his gun.
She led the way to the door, then turned when he didn’t move from the foot of the bed. She arched a questioning brow. “Lose something?”
“My sanity?”
“What, you mean you don’t often spend the morning performing lewd and lascivious acts with strange women not a block away from your office?”
“Shh,” he said, nodding toward the open door at her back. She merely smiled back at him. “There was nothing lewd about it,” he said, crossing the room. “And you’re no stranger to me.” He pushed the door shut and pulled her into his arms. “Not anymore.” His kiss caught her off guard and he willingly silenced her gasp with his lips and tongue. He pulled her under with him until his own head spun. When he finally straightened, she was struggling for equilibrium, judging from the dazed look on her face. He took advantage of that, too. “Lascivious, now that I might cop to,” he said with a grin. “Don’t check out.”
She’d started to shoot back a retort—never one to be thrown for a loop for long, not Liza—then stopped herself. “What? What did you just say?”
It had been hard enough the first time. But he made himself say it again. “Don’t leave. Not yet.” He pressed his finger across her lips, buying time to explain. He only hoped he explained it to himself at the same time. “I know I asked you to wait for me once before. I’m asking again. I’ll be back late tonight. Be here.” He slid his finger from her mouth. “Please.”
Her lips curved slightly, but her eyes bored into his, and those nerves fluttered within them once again. “Why?”
“You said you didn’t leave something until it felt finished. This doesn’t feel finished to me. Does it to you?” He pushed his fingers into her damp curls and tilted her head. “Does it, Liza?” he queried softly.
She stared into his eyes for what felt like eternity, then slowly shook her head. He let out a breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding.
“So? Does that mean you’ll stay?”
Slowly, so slowly, her bow-tie lips curved into a smile that was definitely both lewd and lascivious. His heart picked up speed. He knew enough now to understand the promise behind that smile. And if physical bliss was all he could count on with her, then, for the time being, anyway, he was happy to take what he could get.
He could push and nudge and prod for more later.
“Twenty minutes to the airport?” she asked.
Confused, he nodded.
She reached around his waist and pulled the door open, even as she leaned in and kissed him. This time he was pretty sure he was the one with the dazed expression on his face. “Then that gives you twenty minutes to convince me, Sheriff.” She nudged him into the hall and pulled her keys from her purse. “You want to drive, or shall I?”
DYLAN HAD TO ADMIT her little car was fun. He’d always gone for trucks, as tucking his long frame into a small death trap had never appealed to him. He supposed it was that remnant of renegade that got a hot thrill from the high speed and the tight way it hugged the mountain curves.
He glanced at Liza, at her curls dancing wildly around her head in the wind. “I can see why you love this little demon,” he admitted. “Suits you perfectly.” All tight curves and high speed, indeed.
She laughed. “Yeah, and you’re just hating it. You’ve got more demon in you than you think.”
He shot her a grin. “Something about you just brings that out in me, I guess.”
She buffed and examined her nails. “I try.”
You succeed, he thought, turning his attention back to the road. Boy, do you ever. His focus should be on the meeting ahead. He hoped it went down smoothly and they got what they needed from Pearl without too much hassle. He needed to get back to town for the meeting with Tucker, then there was the council meeting the following day he had to prepare some notes for. And at some point, he needed some sleep. But all he could think about was when he’d get Liza alone again. Surprisingly, it wasn’t even about the sex, though he wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of more of that, either.
But just having her next to him on the drive to the airstrip, all sexy smiles and bouncy curls, made him feel good…and spiked his curiosity. It was as if there was some dormant part inside him that had dried out, like a sponge laid out in the hot sun for too long. And now he wanted nothing more than to fully saturate that long-ignored facet by absorbing every last bit of her. Being around her was like irrigating his soul.
Jesus, Jackson, you have been out in the hot sun for too long. Irrigating your soul? He sounded like one of those Chicken Soup books.
But when he glanced back at her again, took in her profile as she took in the stark scenery around them, with that oddly compelling mixture of clear-eyed wonder and sharply focused attention, it somehow didn’t feel as ridiculous as it sounded.
“So, what got you into public relations in the first place?”
There was a pause and he glanced over to find her looking at him somewhat warily.
He smiled. “What? Is that such a strange question?”
She shrugged and turned her attention back to the scenery. “No, I suppose not. Why do you ask?”
She might as well have said, “What does it matter to you? Aren’t we just having sex?”
“Do you always separate yourself like that?”
Now she looked honestly surprised. “Like what?”
“Well, I think I can safely say you are a woman who is pretty direct about things. Pretty honest about what she wants and not at all shy at going after it.”
She didn’t smile, but simply nodded. “You’d be right.”
“Which is all fine as long as you’re doing the directing.”
She sighed. “Are we back to my supposed control issues again?”
“Maybe. But I’m not talking about sex. You don’t seem to have any problems communicating with your body.”
She didn’t take any offense at his statement, merely nodded in agreement. “I’ve never had anyone misread my signals, if that’s what you mean.”
“See?” he said. “That’s one of the things that attracts me to you. You don’t play coy. You take a direct statement as it’s intended. No reading between the lines, assuming some other meaning lurks behind the words.”
“Well, I do assume that by saying I can communicate with my body, you inferred that I don’t do all that well verbally.”
“Oh, I don’t think you have any problem verbally when you want something.”
“Clear and direct articulation of one’s needs is important in my former career. I happened to be quite good at it.”
“Exactly.”
“Meaning?”
“As long as you’re in charge and directing the conversation toward your interests, you handle yourself with absolute aplomb.” He slowed and looked directly at her. “But let someone else try and direct the conversation, probe to the woman behind the words…and suddenly this wall comes down. Wham! That’s what I meant about separating yourself.”
“Just because I don’t want to spill my guts to strangers doesn’t mean I can’t ‘let my hair down.’ Which is what I think you mean.”
He swerved to the side of the road, making her grasp the door for balance. The dust from the gravel shoulder swirled around them as he swiveled his body as far as the tight compartment would allow. “Strangers? You honestly think of me as a stranger?” He lifted his hand. “And don’t tell me that sex isn’t the same thing as intimacy. I know that. And a lot of what we’ve done together has been about feeling good, not about forming some sort of intimate bond.”
“You’re yelling,” she said calmly. But her blue eyes were wide and not so clear.
“I know.” He took a moment, and a slow, deep breath. He looked out the windshield and tried to compose what he wanted to say, but the words came out in a tumble, anyway. She did that to him, too—jumbled him up. “The sex was great. Mind-blowing. Out of this world.” Then he looked at her. “But any two people who put their minds to it can probably achieve that.” He waited a beat, some part of him wanting her to refute that, tell him it had been different with him. Because, though he believed what he said, believed that a great part of what they’d had together was purely physical, it didn’t negate the feeling, the deep-in-the-pit-of-his-gut feeling, that beneath the tingling nerve endings and brain-numbing climaxes, there was another connection being made. One that had nothing to do with bodies talking to each other, and a lot to do with souls reaching for one another.
But he couldn’t say that without sounding as ridiculous as he knew it had to be. Had to be. But somehow wasn’t.
“You don’t mind me getting to know you in every carnal sense of the word,” he said quietly. “But the moment I try to get to know the intimate you, the stuff that makes up the best parts of what you are, or seem to me to be, you shut yourself off. Why is that? How is it that a person can be so good at facilitating the lives of others, at meeting the needs of others, and so fully close off her own needs?”
She sat there for what felt like an eternity. Saying nothing. Dylan thought about just pulling back on the road, heading to the airport and wishing her a good life. He could get a deputy to come pick him up when he got back. It would certainly be the smart thing to do. He already had one major complication to deal with, get rid of, so he could go back to his new, quiet, life. Why in God’s name ask for another? Hell, he was practically begging for it.
“You think you’re pretty damn clever, don’t you?” she said at last. Almost too quietly.
He looked to her, but her profile was averted, so he couldn’t see her eyes, or what was in them.
“For someone who just met me, you seem pretty damn sure you have me all pegged.” She turned to him, and what he found was not what he expected. He’d expected irritation, maybe even anger. But not hurt. Never hurt. He didn’t know her well enough to hurt her, didn’t mean enough to her to hurt her, wouldn’t have if he did. Realizing that he did—and had—stunned him into silence.
“I guess all those years grilling perps and witnesses makes you a pretty good judge of character. Because you’re right. Most people see the confidence, the directness, the control, and think I have my act together. Well, I do. Precisely because I know how to close myself off. I’ve been taking pretty damn good care of myself for a very, very long time. And I’m very good at it. Mostly because I learned early on that sharing pieces of yourself didn’t guarantee that others shared back. And pieces given away don’t always regenerate themselves. It seemed smarter to me, still does, to take special care with those pieces. Protect them, and therefore myself, from harm.” She turned away, looked straight ahead. “It’s worked out pretty well so far.”
He stared at her proud profile and didn’t know if he wanted to yell at her, break through that wall with the sheer force of his will, or pull her into his arms and hold her, then demand to know who had so stupidly squandered those precious pieces.
“So you took care of other people’s precious pieces,” he said, almost to himself. “Protected them, coddled them, made sure no one abused them.”
She said nothing, but her shoulders rounded slightly. The rigid line of her neck softened a bit.
“So, maybe the question shouldn’t have been why you got into your former line of work…but why you left it?”
There was a long pause, then a sigh, then she said, “Why bother to explain further? I’m sure you’ll be telling me, anyway.” She looked at him, and some of the hurt was gone. But what replaced it was far worse. What replaced it was…absolutely nothing. It was like staring into a mask. “I know why I left Hollywood. Any shrink with a framed piece of paper on the wall could tell me without even seeing me why I left my former life. It was ultimately unfulfilling because in putting those pieces in protective custody, I’d effectively put myself away. My whole life was my job and I enjoyed it, I was good at it. But it wasn’t enough. I watched my best friend fall in love, talked myself into believing I was, too. I wasn’t. But what I learned was that I needed more than job satisfaction. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself. So I walked. Toward what, I have no earthly idea. I haven’t a clue what I want to do with myself now. I’m still figuring out who that self is and what will make her feel whole. But until I do, those pieces are going to stay under lock and key.”
Now he did reach out. Even if she pulled away, he had to make the gesture. Because he simply couldn’t not make it. She stiffened, but didn’t recoil when he stroked his fingertips down her cheek, along her jaw. Very softly, he said, “Did you ever think that maybe you’re going to have to bust that lock if you ever want to find out who you are? That maybe it’s the risk of exposing those parts to the light of day that allows them to reflect back on you?”
“I—I never thought of it that way,” she said with abject honesty, shifting slightly away from his touch. “But…” She held herself very still, then sighed. It was a deep, shuddering sigh that seemed to deflate her usually abundant innate strength. When she lifted her gaze to his, those oceans of blue were clouded with tears. “Maybe it’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how.”
Her voice caught and Dylan could see that she was struggling very hard to hold it together. “Come here.”
She shook her head, sniffed once and went to move away. “Just get back on the road. You’re going to be late.”
“I don’t really give a flat damn at the moment.”
His quiet vehemence startled a glance from her.
“Right now my only concern is you.”
She tried a cocky smile, and managed a shaky one. “I don’t need your concern.”
“You need a whole lot of things.”
“And I suppose you think you’re the man to give them to me, right? Well, I don’t need—”
He tugged her against him, held her there. “Yes, you do need. Maybe that’s a good place for you to start. Admitting you need. That you’re not a completely self-sufficient unit. That it just might feel good when you share a part of your real self with someone who cares about you, who you care about. I know I do, Liza.” He bent his head to hers. “I think you know it, too.” He took her mouth, but rather than demand she respond, he gentled the kiss, coaxed her to respond, to give back to him. To give something of herself, even if it was just a kiss. A kiss not designed to seduce, but to comfort, to soothe. He realized he hadn’t had too many of those in his life. Maybe none. And he’d be willing to bet she hadn’t, either.
“Maybe we both need to find a way to expose those little pieces,” he murmured against her lips. “I want to try. With you. And I want you to try. With me.” He kissed her again, and reveled in the joy of feeling her gradually respond, if not in words, at least in action.
When he finally lifted his head, his own eyes were a bit cloudy. He didn’t try to analyze the emotions, the illogical reality of them, considering the short time frame of their acquaintance. At the moment, he only knew he’d found the most significant piece of himself. He was holding it in his arms. And he was damned if he was going to simply let it walk away.
“Stay,” he said. “With me. Explore this, yourself, us, whatever. With me.” He brushed his hand over her hair. “Please.”
She was quiet, tucked against his chest. He could feel her heart pounding, but her breathing had steadied. Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer him, she said, “I’ll stay.” His heart was already leaping, his pulse kicking, when she added in a soft whisper, “For now.”