Baby at his Door

Taking a deep breath she told him the truth for the first time since they met. “I was wondering what your mouth would feel like on my own. And then I remembered lust not love.”

He froze. Obviously not expecting honesty from someone who was feeding him half lies the way a con man sells security. He cocked his head to the side and stepped forward, moving with surety and grace. No tentative steps such as she would have used.

She felt the warmth of his body before he came close enough for his chest to brush her breasts. She tilted her head to look up at him. His silver-gray eyes were narrowed and those firm hard lips were parted.

She felt the exhalation of his breath as he leaned forward. Smelled the coffee he’d drunk earlier while she’d been on the phone. Closing her eyes she let her senses absorb every sensation of the moment.

“Lydia?” he asked, his voice a husky rasp.

She opened her eyes and saw in his gaze intent. Though he didn’t speak, she knew he’d wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Her, a woman with no money or power tied to her. Just an average woman. Her heartbeat sped up and she lifted her hands to his shoulders.

The cotton of his uniform, starched to perfection, was a new texture. She slid her fingers across the fabric, feeling the strength of the man before her. This wasn’t a man who’d allow himself to be purchased.

This was a man who lived life by his own rules. And as his head lowered slowly toward hers, she realized this was a man who could teach her more of life than just the passionate side she’d never experienced. By example he could teach her how to carve her own niche in the world.

She stood on her toes to reach his lips as they descended. Losing her balance, she fell forward, her breasts brushing his chest. Her nipples tightened and her blood seemed heavier as it flowed through her veins.

He angled his head, she closed her eyes.

“Sheriff?”

“Dammit.”

He pivoted to face the open doorway. Lydia drew her hands down and laced her fingers together.

“Phone,” one of his deputies said. Evan ran a hand through his hair and walked away without looking back at her. What had almost happened?

Lydia leaned against the edge of the cluttered desk and wrapped her arms around her waist. Her heart was racing, her blood pounding and her most feminine parts were crying out for more of that man. Evan Powell made her feel alive. She realized she was staying in Placid Springs for more than a desire to earn her own way. She wanted to spend more time with the sheriff.

A warm breeze blew through the open windows of the cab of Evan’s truck. Lydia stared out the window as if the view held the secrets to the universe. She had been pensive and withdrawn since their conversation this afternoon. He wondered what she was hiding from.

She had the pampered look of a rich wife. Which gave him pause. No matter how much he wanted her or she flirted with him he wasn’t poaching in another man’s territory.

He’d never questioned his control. It had been his constant companion since his ex-wife’s desertion. But even rock-solid control and the possibility that Lydia might be married wasn’t enough to keep him from wanting to reach out and touch the slim thighs revealed by her skirt.

Lydia’s soft voice as she sang along with the radio played along his senses, with the warm breeze and earthy scents setting off longings he had no right to. He wanted to pull the truck off the road and revel in his senses. To fill them until he was drunk on the sensations of woman, world and endless time.

Dammit, Lydia called to his soul the way D.C. had called to his secret hidden dreams. She represented everything about the world outside of Placid Springs that he wanted but didn’t have. Everyone in the small town had stopped by to see her and talk to her about the cow accident. Did you see the pretty lady in Evan’s office?

The lady didn’t belong with him any more than she did this small town. But he wanted her.

Damn, he wished he’d never thought of kissing her. But since he had, his mind kept supplying him with images and imagined textures. Images of her straddling his hips, her skirt floating over his thighs while she rode him to completion. The imagined texture of her skin and her mouth. The soft wet, living silk of female.

“Evan?”

Forcing his concentration to the present and away from hot dreams, he glanced over at her.

“I’m sorry about those papers,” she said.

She’d mixed up the fax and the shredder machines. Whatever Lydia had done in the life she was running from, she had not been a top-rate office assistant. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you going to fire me?” she asked after minutes had passed.

“I’m not.”

“Are you upset about something?

“I’m not upset. What kind of a wimpy word is that to use on a man?”

“I don’t know, Marlboro Man, why don’t you tell me?”

“It was a long day,” he said at last. “I like the silence.”

“Are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes.”

“You can talk to me about your problems. I’d be happy to be your sounding board,” she said, placing her hand on his thigh.

“No, thank you.”

“Really. It’s something I’m good at. Unless of course you don’t like me.”

“Look, Lydia. I like you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You’re funny and sexy and everything I like about big-city women. But you’re not staying here. For us to do more than work together would be a mistake.”

“I was talking about work.”

He glanced pointedly to the hand resting on his thigh. “You were flirting.”

Hastily she removed her touch. She laced her fingers together in her lap and owned up to the truth. “Yes I was. I thought you were interested in more than lust, less than love.”

“I said that’s what would have made me stop questioning you.”

“Not interested?” she asked.

“You’re a complication I don’t need. I’m not a casual man, Lydia.”

“I know.”

He slowed the truck and turned onto his property. As they bounced along the rutted road, silence permeated the air much the way rotted fruit does.

He bounced to a stop, and Lydia was out of the truck before he had the key out of the ignition.

“Lydia—”