His lips trailed over her cheek, her temple, down to nibble her earlobe, then lower to her shoulder. “Charity, darlin’, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She barely heard the question, gave it no conscious consideration as she mulled over her discovery. Oregon Brown was Rory Runyon! Her thoughts were as busy with the revelation as ants that had discovered a lump of sugar.
Oregon propped himself up on an elbow and looked at her solemnly, brushing her tangled curls away from her face. As she gazed back at his thoughtful green eyes, his furrowed brow, she thought about Rory’s deep, golden voice.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Oregon asked. “I thought …”
It was him, all right. Why hadn’t she realized sooner? There was a difference in resonance, probably because of the microphone. Why hadn’t he told her?
“Darlin’, Did I hurt you badly?”
He had known all along. All the calls, the questions. Want to know how I’d love a woman? Like a boulder toppling off a cliff, her thoughts came roaring down, furiously gaining momentum.
“Oh, darlin’. If you’d only told me. Charity, I don’t know what to say …”
He had set her up with his sensuous voice, he had made love to her over the phone and over the radio! Oregon and Rory! She felt dazed. Rory Runyon didn’t tell all his callers how he’d like to make love to them! He had told her to drive her to a quivering, melting readiness!
“Oh, love, you’re so quiet. Charity, say something to me. This is the first time this has happened to me. Please say something.”
Well, it sure as hell was the first time it had happened to her! After all her years of caution, she had succumbed swiftly to a husky voice and seductive kisses! Rory Runyon, Oregon Brown! And even now he hadn’t admitted the truth. All he had done was say, “Yes, I listened to ‘Nighttime.’ ”
“Oh, Charity, you don’t know what you’re doing to me, darlin’.” He lay back down and fitted her to his side, putting his arms around her while he gazed up at the ceiling. She lay against him, her head on his shoulder, her stomach pressing his hard hipbone, their legs touching, while her thoughts churned madly. She had been seduced by Rory Runyon! A tingle of sheer delight danced in her veins. And it had been so good—as good as his voice had hinted it would be!
“Darlin’, it was good …”
She blinked, finally settling her attention on Oregon. She recalled the words that had drifted through a nebulous layer of consciousness in the past few minutes. Why didn’t you tell me? … I don’t know what to say … it was good … if you’d only told me …
If she had told him she was a virgin, would he have not seduced her? What was Oregon hinting at, regret? And still he didn’t say, “Darlin’, I have a confession. I’m Rory.”
Her mind gnawed over the facts, grinding down one after another. And another whisper returned to haunt her. With the first kiss, Oregon had said, “There’s a special chemistry between us.” Was it special to him? She wasn’t sure what she felt for Oregon, and she wanted to be very sure before she let herself get tangled up with a man.
“Charity, I wish you’d say something! Don’t be angry, darlin’.”
Angry? She was on a roller coaster between anger and ecstasy. She had been loved, kissed, and caressed by Rory Runyon, by Oregon Brown. Ecstasy, joy, rapture. Then down she went, with the aggravating knowledge that he had tricked her and still hadn’t admitted the truth.
She mulled it over. She wouldn’t tell Oregon that she knew he was Rory. She would wait and see when the truth crossed his lips. His lips. She sighed in contentment.
“Oh, Charity …” He shifted and gazed down at her, his thick brows drawn together, his forehead creased in a frown. Solemnly she looked up at him.
“Darlin’, it was wonderful. Say something. Don’t be angry over something so good.”
She reached up and twisted a soft red-gold curl around her finger. She wanted to hold him, to say she knew; she wanted to cry out, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
Finally she said, “It was good, Oregon.”
His gaze bore into her as if attempting to discern her soul. His big hand lightly stroked her shoulder as if he needed to reassure himself she was still in his arms.
“Do you hurt?”
She shook her head, and he smiled. Joy burst inside her at the expression on his face. He looked so delighted in her, so happy! And she felt the same toward him—except, why hadn’t he told her the truth? Men. But then, how could she expect to understand a man who kept a goat for a lawn mower?
He leaned down and kissed her ear, his moist tongue touching lightly as he whispered, “Next time, darlin’, it’ll be better.”
Next time. The words started a blaze. Next time and next time and next time. Was she falling in love with Oregon/Rory? He settled down beside her and pulled her closer, a blissful sigh escaping his lips. “ ‘Night, Charity.”
“ ‘Night, Oregon.” She closed her eyes, shoving all the dilemmas into a compartment of her brain and closing it down for the night. Tomorrow she would worry about Oregon/Rory, about Aunt Mattie, about Ziza’s visit and the man she wanted Charity to meet, about money and the thousand other little details that required her attention. Right now she wanted to relish Oregon’s big, strong arms around her, his good, male scent, listen to his heart beat beneath her bare flesh and remember the past hour. Charity, darlin’ … oooh! The mere thought made her heart jump. She had been loved by Rory Runyon! Ecstasy! Vaguely she wondered why she had been so controlled with men in her life before, men she had dated for months and resisted without heartbreak, and then had melted for Oregon like whipped cream on burning charcoals.
Yet how could she resist? There was a spark with Oregon. Maybe too much of one sometimes, but a definite spark. His kisses were fantastic! And he was Rory Runyon. Perfection. Oregon’s big body, his good-natured humor, his easygoing manner, and Rory’s voice. Her sigh of contentment was a whisper in the dark. Tomorrow she would look at the problems and worry about rushing into involvement with Oregon.
Drifting on a cloud in a cotton-wrapped world of gray, Charity’s first conscious awareness was of a whispered caress, a touch on her thigh. She stirred slightly, too sleep-filled to wake fully and open her eyes. The enticing tingle continued. Light, feathery touches brushed over breast and hip, across her flat stomach. She moved her hips and stretched, content, dreaming of Oregon now. Warm breath wafted over her throat, her ear. A moist tongue-tip touched her ear, and her eyes finally opened.
The room was dim, silent, and dusky with the first faint streaks of dawn. She was lying in Oregon’s arms, facing him, pressed to his broad chest while he stroked and kissed her awake.
“ ‘Morning’, darlin’,” he murmured, and her temperature rose. She forgot what he had just said. Suddenly it was imperative to hold him, to touch him. She wanted his warmth, his big solid body, his magic words. She wound her arms around his neck and smiled.
“ ‘Morning, Oregon.”
A fire blazed in his green eyes, erasing the rest of the world. “This time will be better, darlin’,” he whispered before he kissed her.
Better? Better than ecstasy? The magic sparks that his kiss set off ignited her entire body, and for the next hour it never occurred to her to protest. Oregon kissed her fervently while his caresses set her aflame with longing. His big hands roamed down the sweet curve of her spine, molding her to him while his lips at her throat and ear and nape built intense desire. He shifted to kiss her breasts, the soft, full contours and the rosy, wanton peaks. He was more leisurely this time as he explored her body, discovering what aroused her until finally he possessed her completely.
He thrust into her softness, driving her to an urgency, a turbulent craving that she hadn’t known was possible. She clung to him with abandon as they reached the brink, then crashed over, drifting down in a golden world of rapture.
While his weight pressed her into the bed, Oregon murmured endearments in his husky, amber voice, words that made her feel as if she belonged in his arms forever.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her to him, and together they watched the sun’s glowing rays spill silently into the room, splashing across the bed, lending a rosy hue to their replete bodies.
But finally she had to face reality, had to step out of the fantastic dreamworld Oregon had created. She sat up. “Oregon, I have to get breakfast and take Aunt Mattie home.”
“Lie down, darlin’. I’ll cook breakfast and then take Mattie home.”
“I can’t stay up here in your bed! Aunt Mattie would go into shock.”
He chuckled as he pulled her back down. “No, she wouldn’t. I won’t be here with you—not while I cook and take her home.”
She pushed away from him and slid off the bed. “I can’t stay in bed all day!”
He put his hands behind his head as his eyes devoured her naked body languorously. His relentless gaze sparked her modesty. Blushing, she snatched up the black satin sheet and wrapped it around her.
“Stop that, Oregon! And cover yourself, please!”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Charity. Black satin is pretty sexy on you.”
“Oregon, stop! These sheets are scandalous!” And his marvelous reddish-gold body was overpowering as it lay stretched out on one.
He raised a brow. “Want to make them more scandalous?”
“No! You’re oversexed!”
He shook his head, grinning crookedly, as he stood up. “No, I’m entranced, beguiled, by a gorgeous, luscious pair of … blue eyes.”
“Oregon Brown! Stop this minute!” She thought she was going to melt, just like the Wicked Witch of the West. With a mighty effort she summoned her wits and her sternest voice, and said, “I can’t lie around all day in a bed or a hammock. I have things to do.”
“Oh, my, aren’t we fierce this morning!” He started around the bed to her, and her heart began pounding wildly.
“Oregon …”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Mmmm, you smell so nice. Sweet Charity.”
“I have to get dressed and go home.” She sounded as firm as water. He smiled, and it took the wind out of her sails. She raised her chin and hoped that he wouldn’t notice her resolve was fading. “Oregon.”
“Okay, darlin’. I’m gone.”
He picked up his clothes and left, leaving her in a daze. What had happened to her life? It had changed so swiftly. She couldn’t imagine a time when she hadn’t known Oregon. Her flesh still felt the lingering brush of his fingers. The bed was rumpled from his weight, from his marvelous big body. The sheet wrapped around her had a faint trace of his clean masculine scent. And at the moment it was impossible to summon regret for her actions.
After she had bathed and dressed, she made the bed, looking for the last time at the black satin sheets and seeing Oregon’s golden body stretched out on them. Had he planned the seduction when he had made the bed up with black sheets? Was that a habit he had? She ground her teeth as she went downstairs to have breakfast with Oregon and Aunt Mattie.
Oregon, looking so appealing in his faded jeans and pale blue knit shirt, had eggs, toast, bacon, and hot coffee ready. As she watched him move around the kitchen, a thousand questions ran through her mind. She felt befuddled, as if she were caught by a force she couldn’t battle, a surging sea that whirled her along on giddy currents. Every look he gave her seemed to hold its own special meaning, a confirmation of something unique and wonderful they had discovered in each other. And he couldn’t stop smiling at her, showing off his dimples and making her smile right back at him, until she wondered why Aunt Mattie didn’t notice the charged atmosphere.
After breakfast Charity drove downtown to talk to Mr. Wurley, the editor of the newspaper. An hour later, when she stepped outside, the hot May sunshine poured over her, shimmering on the sidewalk, making it sparkle. Across the street the courthouse on the square was shaded by tall trees. On the blocks surrounding it, people strolled in and out of shops and offices. She turned, her gaze resting briefly on the glass front of the newspaper office. She knew nothing about journalism and she had a buyer. Both she and Mr. Wurley agreed, the best thing to do would be to sell the paper to Oregon. She suspected Mr. Wurley was relieved about the decision, he knew and liked Oregon. She headed for the car to phone her attorney about her decision. An audit had already commenced, and she would need an appraisal. The paper was solvent, and from what Mr. Oppenheim, her attorney, had said, there would be enough money to set up a nice trust for Aunt Mattie.
As Charity drove home she mulled over the future. She was going to sell the paper. Now, what would she do about Aunt Mattie? The money from the sale would take care of her financially, but Mattie was too elderly to live alone, too forgetful. Charity debated giving up her own apartment and moving to Enid, or taking Aunt Mattie to Tulsa. Neither was a good idea. And even as she worried over her problems, beneath the surface of her thoughts floated an uncertain element that could affect the solutions—Oregon. Did she want to settle in Enid, find a job here, and stay close to Oregon? Would he really want her to, or had their intimacy been something casual to him? She was appalled at how little she knew about him. Yet, in ways, she felt as if she knew Oregon better than anyone else—a knowledge with a depth of quality that had nothing to do with time. Why hadn’t he told her he was Rory? She remembered his laugh, his kisses, his passionate lovemaking, and a blush heated her cheeks.
Setting her jaw in a determined line, she turned around and drove back to Aunt Mattie’s bank. She asked to see Mr. Simpson, the banker who had handled Uncle Hubert’s affairs for years. Less than half an hour later, Charity headed home again, in more of a dilemma than ever. Mr. Simpson had politely discussed her financial situation and, to Charity’s surprise, agreed to make her a loan to set her up in the landscape business in Enid if she wanted. What should she do? Stay in Enid near Mattie and Oregon and go deeper into debt, or go back to Tulsa and get a job? No easy answer had come by the time she drove up the driveway, and her thoughts had settled on Oregon. She didn’t want to be like Ziza. In the past she had so carefully avoided casual relationships, then had fallen for Oregon like an uprooted tree! Well, it still wasn’t too late to get to know him much better. And with that pleasant prospect in mind, she spent the rest of the afternoon helping Aunt Mattie sort through things in the garage. She was delighted when Oregon dropped by at around three, although she paid more attention to his splendid body as he moved heavy boxes and furniture for them than to her own sorting.
At five o’clock Charity asked him to stay for dinner, but he declined, saying he had to go to the station. As they stood alone in the garage, he rested his arms on her shoulders, toying with the neck of her T-shirt, stroking her throat with his fingers. She looked up into his eyes and her pulse jumped. She saw the message in those eyes, the smoldering hunger. His compelling voice was soft as he said, “I want to have you for dinner tomorrow night.”
Was she in love with him—or was it merely sex? Last night had been spectacular enough to addle the most jaded mind. In her innocence, how was she to judge her emotions? She continued to stare at him, and was surprised when his brows drew together. He leaned forward and peered at her intently.
“We can just eat peanut butter sandwiches at my house if it would make it easier.” He continued to study her closely. “Charity, what’s on your mind?” His voice had changed suddenly, deepened, and she wondered what he had discovered in her eyes.
For just two seconds she considered blurting out the truth, that she might be in love with him. Then she remembered his deceit, his unscrupulous—was it really unscrupulous?—seduction over the airwaves with his golden, sexy voice. As she stood in indecision, one of Oregon’s brows arched over his eye, giving him a devilish look. “Charity, it’s just a neighborly dinner. I’ve already asked Mattie and she accepted for both of you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me!” she exclaimed angrily.
“I wanted to see what you’d say.”
“You know, you have a deceitful streak in you!”
He blushed! A red flush crept up his cheeks, suffusing his face with a rosy glow. It served him right.
“My intentions are good,” he said, so sincerely that she felt mollified. If he had stopped there, he would have been ahead, but he added, “Even if my actions aren’t.”
The teasing gleam was back in his eyes. She didn’t know what she felt and she didn’t have the smallest inkling about Oregon’s feelings, so she kept quiet and didn’t say a word.
“I’ve got to run, honey,” he said. The look in his green eyes was inviting, and she leaned toward him a fraction of an inch. His arms went around her instantly and he kissed her. Soundly. So soundly she forgot where she was, that Aunt Mattie might walk in on them, that she didn’t want to rush into an affair, that Oregon could be aggravating. She loved every second of his kiss and returned it with enthusiasm. Finally he released her slightly, raising his head to gaze into her eyes. “You have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, Charity. So big and blue I feel I could drown in them.”
Each word was a drop of hot, sweet syrup running through her insides. She trembled, and her hands tightened on his hard biceps. “For someone who spends his days lying in a hammock, you have some big muscles.”
He smiled, a slow lifting of the corners of his perfect mouth. “I do a few other things.” He could make anything sound suggestive. Sound deliciously naughty and enticing. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and cling forever. His arms tightened a fraction. “I’m going to be late for an appointment. I have a meeting at my office in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m not keeping you,” she said, but her mind wasn’t on what she was saying. It was concentrating on green eyes, a beautiful mouth, a strong body …
He leaned down for one more long kiss that left her dazed when he released her. He touched the tip of her nose with his forefinger. “ ‘Bye, hon. I’ll miss you tonight. See you tomorrow.”
“ ‘Bye, Oregon,” she whispered. She watched him stride down the driveway, his broad shoulders swinging a fraction, golden curls ruffled by the wind, his long legs covering the distance easily, his tight jeans clinging to narrow hips and trim buttocks. And she remembered in the finest detail every inch of his golden skin. “Oh, my,” she breathed softly. “Oregon Brown.”
She wandered into her room, closing the door for privacy, and stared at her image in the dresser mirror. She looked as if she had been kissed. Or struck by lightning. Her lips were slightly red, swollen from Oregon’s touch. She tried to raise one eyebrow the way he did. Both brows climbed. She couldn’t do it. She held one brow and tried to raise the other. How did he manage that look? With both brows arched she looked in shock: he had looked so sexy. Her toes curled as she stared into the mirror and saw Oregon, one brow raised, his gaze intent and mocking, teasing her.
And then it dawned on her that if they went to dinner, he would have to tell her about Rory Runyon because he would have to go to work. Except Aunt Mattie would be with her and they would go home early. Well, she’d fix that! As she turned away to go back to work, a smile curved her rosy lips.
When the evening came, Charity felt an inner tension coiling and tightening. She couldn’t wait to hear “Nighttime” ! Would Oregon reveal his identity? Her nerves were raw with anticipation. She told Aunt Mattie good night, worked furiously cleaning out kitchen drawers, then bathed, taking her time, scrubbing herself, reliving every glorious second of the previous night. She dressed in a pale blue cotton nightie, then looked over the list of titles she wanted to request on “Nighttime.” She would give Oregon pause for thought! What did she feel for him? Was she dazzled by a seduction that had occurred by default, simply because she was so lonely? Or was it deeper than that? She switched off the lights, climbed into bed, and turned on the radio. The red light from the dial glowed over the sheets as the familiar theme song filled the darkened bedroom. And then Rory Runyon was on.