A Way With Women

Darkness was still pooling in her thoughtless mind when his first hard, swift thrust lifted her. Lights flickered and went out, but she was climbing, her head flung back, her hands curling over powerful muscles, her fingers digging into work-honed shoulders, tightening with each new furious onslaught of scalding kisses that prepared her for the fall. Against her cheek, his words were rough, torn sandpaper. “I didn’t…won’t…”

Her mind was spinning. Come inside me? An old promise. Oh, God, what am I doing?

But she wanted this, she had for years. Heaven help her, but after Bruce died it was sometimes Macon she’d imagine, his body loving hers until she didn’t feel so alone. Suddenly, she was tumbling downward, spinning, her body shaking, the pulling depth of her shuddering climax making her mind blank again as she convulsed.

And then, just like that, he was gone. A wrenching gasp was torn from him. Another as she felt the warm gush of his release as he withdrew. The loss was so abrupt, so jarring, that her heart seemed to go with him. Stunned, strangely bereft, she wondered how this could have happened.

Macon had come about those letters, and the next thing she knew…

She steadied herself, her hands flying to her bra and dress, gathering the sides. She pulled up her panties so fast they wedged in her behind, and by the time her shaking fingers were through buttoning, he was buckling his belt. Even worse, the damn man was grinning. “Are we still here, Harper?”

Didn’t he know she felt like her dress—like she’d come apart at the seams? That she was still throbbing, her heart still racing out of control? Didn’t he understand what he’d just done to her?

Judging by his grin, she guessed he did. “I don’t know how that happened,” she whispered.

His breathing heavy, he eyed her a long moment, and by degrees, his grin vanished and his jaw set. “I thought things might be different now.”

Different from what, Macon? Different from when I came to tell you I was pregnant—and found you in your truck with Lois Potts? Different from when you went to Houston without me? A lump formed in her throat. “Different?”

“I thought…maybe with Bruce gone, and Cordy almost grown. And given the fact that Cordy and I are on good terms…”

Everything inside her seized up. “Good terms?”

He stared at her. “He does work for me, you know.”

She didn’t. Her heart missed a beat. “At the ranch?”

Macon frowned, his hand resting on the belt he’d just buckled. “He didn’t tell you I hired him to work Saturdays?”

No! She thought he came home dirty on Saturdays because of summer football practice. Why had Cordy gone behind her back? He had a generous allowance, a car, and he’d promised to concentrate on his studies this summer. The shock, on top of what had just happened between her and Macon, was too much. Realizing she’d buttoned her dress crookedly, she tugged it down, trying to smooth it, but Macon had wrinkled it beyond repair.

He was already opening the storm door, glancing through the screen as if he wanted to be anywhere in the world but in a dark hallway with her. “I guess you figure I’ll destroy your son the way I would any woman I marry,” Macon said, not bothering to hide his temper. “But don’t worry, Harper, I’ll tell Cordy that the Rock ’n’ Roll won’t be needing him anymore.” Macon shrugged. “Guess you don’t know everything about your son.”

She wished something, anything, would stop the too-fast beating of her heart. “You don’t, either, Macon,” she whispered miserably.

Lifting his hat from the newel post, Macon put it on and adjusted the brim. “Good to see you, Harper.”

Given what had just happened between them, the words seemed the worst kind of understatement. Her lips felt swollen. Tendrils of hair were glued to her neck with perspiration. She crossed her arms over the cockeyed dress, feeling ridiculous. “That’s all you’re going to say about what we just did?”

Macon shot her a level glance. “What do you want, Harper? A blow-by-blow analysis? A report?”

“No,” she said, coloring, “but—”

“If I think of anything to say, I’ll send you a postcard,” he assured dryly. “Somehow, I’ll bet you’re one of the people around this town who still gets her own mail.” Turning, Macon pushed through the screen, casually walking across the porch and into the sunshine. When he was halfway across the yard, he lifted the hat, waving it once as a parting taunt sounded over his shoulder. “I mean it. Real good to see you, Harper.”

She glared at his back, her eyes narrowing. Mustering her gamest tone, she offered her own sugary Texas drawl. “So glad to oblige, Macon.”

A throaty chuckle floated back.

Pressing her fingertips to the wire mesh, she stared at him through the screen, shaking her head. She’d repay him for this. She didn’t know how yet, but she’d think of something. And when Cordy got home, they were going to have a serious talk about his working on the ranch. For now, she simply watched Macon. Just as when he arrived, he was circling the lilac, forsythia and snowball bushes, then he got into his truck and slammed the door.

Torn apart by mixed emotions, she whispered, “It’s like watching a rewinding movie.” Except a lot had happened between the past and the present, and during Macon’s short but rather eventful visit. As he’d ambled through her yard, his open shirttails had blown in the breeze as if to announce to the neighborhood that he’d recently had little use for clothes. And as he backed his truck from under the willow, he had the nerve to toot his horn as if to say he’d definitely be back for some more of the same.

Staring at the last glimpse of his red truck winking through the trees, Harper softly, solemnly vowed, “Never again, Macon McCann. I mean it this time. Never again.”

3

HARPER HAD LED HIM ON and rejected him for the last time, Macon vowed as he galloped toward the ranch office. She should have been hog-tied for meeting him at the door wearing that sinful sundress dotted with dusky bluebonnets the color of her eyes, the heavy, milk-satin breasts Macon remembered all too well straining the straps. Glancing at the new fence as he flew past, Macon added, “Guess it’ll hold.”

Harper’s dress sure hadn’t. He barely noticed the nearly full moon, or the orange and purple clouds bracketing a bloodred sun that was taking a final peek as it dipped behind rolling green hills. He was still seeing shadows slanting on her skin and thrusting his fingers into pale hair he’d left disheveled around her shoulders. He was still considering that deceptive blond-haired, blue-eyed, little-girl-next-door facade that always fooled him until he looked closer and noticed broody eyes that were too aware and a mouth that was too sassy because of her repressed need for kissing.

At least Macon had kept his cool when he left, but now he couldn’t believe his lack of willpower. How could he stop himself when her body tucked so perfectly into his, though? When the soft smoothness of her skin glided under his mouth like water? And when her incoherent whimpers cooed around his ears, begging him to burrow into wanting heat? Cursing soundly, Macon fought memories of the burning relief he’d felt as he entered her….