One Magic Night Page 12

He made a muffled sound, and she drew her hand away. "Leigh. I want your touch. I want you to hold me, touch me, know me."

  She renewed her caressing, wondering at her own temerity as she boldly explored his body, learning what pleased him by the quick, indrawn breaths he took. She leaned over him and kissed his chest, her long hair brushing his skin, her tongue seeking and caressing a male nipple.

  With a stifled groan, he pulled her on top of him. At her small sound of protest, he cupped her breasts, balancing her above him, his legs locking her against him. "Trust me," he whispered, his voice smoky, dark. "It will be good for you again, I promise."

  His thighs moved intimately between hers, and he claimed her once more. Deep within the nerve center of her body, she felt the intolerable tension build and build until the shuddering release rocked them both.

  She slept again, and when she woke, pale streamers of dawn fanned through the window. A warm breath caressed her cheek, and hands clasped her naked waist while a gentle mouth took hers in a possessive kiss. Once again, his kiss was the prelude to a giving and taking of passionate delight that took her to the heights of heaven and beyond.

  The alarm beeped its strident note. Her mind protesting the disturbance, she rolled over and reached for it, and discovered she couldn't. She was on the wrong side of the bed, and a warm, hard body lay between her and the clock. In a rush of sensation, it all came back; Ty's gentle, exquisite lovemaking, her own passionate response. Her blood raced warmly around her body, until she remembered that now it was over.

  He stirred, lifted a dark eyelash. His gaze moved over her and there was tenderness in his eyes. "Good morning. What's that damn racket?"

  "Alarm clock," she told him, nodding toward the stand on his side of the bed.

  He reached out, fumbled, found the silencing button. "That's a god-awful sound." He raked a hand through his disheveled hair and then he smiled, a dark, disturbing smile. "Are you the woman who kept waking me up and making love to me last night?"

  His smile was contagious and her lips lifted. "Wasn't it the other way around?"

  "Maybe it was," he admitted, stretching long arms up over his head and yawning. "Oh, damn. Another annoying noise. My cell phone."

  She threw on a robe and tied it at her waist. “I’ll be in the kitchen, making coffee.”

  Minutes later, he appeared, fully dressed. She said, “Here’s your coffee.”

  ‘No time, sweetheart.” He snatched up his leather jacket. “I have to go. I’ll call you. Oh, and hey. You’re out of milk.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. The truth hit her hard. He couldn’t wait to get away from her.

  “Goodbye, Ty.” How ridiculous that sounded. It rhymed. Stung, she stood there, feeling raw and exposed.

  She felt storm tossed, as if her world had been turned upside down and shaken. She couldn't think. She could only feel. And what she felt was pain.

  She escaped into the bathroom and went through her morning routine. The shower hissed over her in a warm stream, but nothing seemed to help the cold wall of hurt locked around her heart.

  Thirty minutes later, dressed for school in a close-fitting cranberry waist jacket, a silky white blouse with a bow at the throat, and a tailored black wool skirt, she walked out to the kitchenette.

  Numb with shock, she drove to school. The day stretched ahead of her like a yawning chasm, but somehow she managed to walk into the faculty room and face the teachers gathered there for the ritual cup of coffee before the first class. Hunt looked up from the end of the table, Eve to his right. Max, a peculiar, half-sympathetic look on his face, greeted her, his eyes flickering down to the other end of the table where the morning paper was spread and Ben Harris, the gym teacher who rarely bothered, was bent over it, reading with avid interest. Another teacher leaned over his shoulder to read the same page. Instantly she knew something was wrong.

  Eve got up and came to her. In a low tone, she said, “I got a call from Deke. He said to tell you Ty did everything in his power to get the article stopped. He couldn’t get it stopped completely, but he did get them to rewrite it.”

  "What article?”

  Eve gave a nervous laugh. "It was something of a shock to find out we have a celebrity in our midst."

  "I'm not a celebrity."

  "The morning paper says you are." Leigh felt the nerves in her stomach tighten. Her protest was automatic. ''Really…"

  Eve's cheeks colored. "It makes no difference to me who your parents were. And actually," she hesitated, "I've become rather fond of celebrities." She gave Leigh another bright, nervous smile and said in a rush, “I’m flying out to California this weekend. Deke wants me to come and be with him even if it's only for two days." The color climbed higher in her face. "l couldn't say no."

  "Eve, how wonderful." She forgot her own pain, forgot everything except that Eve deserved another chance at happiness, and Deke was interesting, intelligent, and seemed exactly right for Eve.

  “What about you?" Eve whispered. "What's happening with tall, dark, and devastating?"

  She steeled herself to say the words. "I don’t know. He dashed out this morning like he couldn’t wait to get away from me and…"

  Eve's face sobered. ''Oh, darling. He was trying to stop that article Paul gave the newspapers in order to publicize his role in his new play.”

  Max rose and came to her. His voice low, he said, "Better brace yourself. There's an article in the paper that pretty much tells everything about you and your mother. It's caused some interesting reactions."

  Reeling from this second shock, she went to stand behind Ben.

  For an instant she reacted with pain. Had Ty? No. Eve said he’d tried to stop the article. He’d tried to protect her, just as he had the other night. A blinding blaze of truth washed over her. No, Ty would never do this to her. Only one man was responsible for this article, a man who wouldn't hesitate to use her name and destroy her anonymity to further his own ends. Paul. Paul had nearly destroyed her once, and he would have no qualms about doing it again if he stood to gain from it, though how he would, she couldn't guess. Ty had held her hand and comforted her that night in the city and made tender, passionate love to her, and he would never hurt her this way, he just wouldn't. Ty had tried to get the article stopped.

  He wasn't like Paul. He wasn't anything like Paul. Shock sent nervous chills through her. A moment ago she hadn't known how much she trusted him. Now, she would trust him with her life for the rest of her life.

  She whirled to Hunt. "Call Betty in to teach for me. I've got to go home."

  He half rose out of his chair, his face concerned. "Are you ill?"

  "No. Yes. I don't know. Here." She threw down her burden of papers, and they skittered across the top of the table, fanning out in front of Hunt like a deck of cards. "My plans are in there, along with the tests that have to be passed back to the kids. I'll talk to you later."

  She flew out to the car and jerked open the door. The keys wouldn't go in the ignition because she was in a hurry, but after what seemed like an endless age, she got the car started. She drove around the circle and sped back down the hill toward Viola's house. If she could only catch him…

  The apartment door was unlocked. Her heart leaping with hope, she yanked the door open, only to find an empty, quiet apartment. He was gone. He had left the door open and the coffee server on, but he was gone.

  Wild with fury, whether at herself for letting him go or at him for leaving, she wasn't sure which, she ran to the counter and switched off the warmer. In a frenzy she ran into the bedroom to throw things into a suitcase. She had a far better chance of catching him on the road if she left at once.

  Knowing she probably had forgotten half a dozen things and it didn't matter in the slightest, she snapped her suitcase closed and snatched it up. At the door she fumbled with the self-locking button, her heart pounding, when she heard the familiar creak of the second riser. She jerked the door open wide…and saw him. He wore the leather oxblood jacket, and in hi
s hand he carried a quart container of milk.

  He reached the top of the stairs and turned toward her.

  Fear and excitement chased through her veins, and in her nervous state she said the first thing that came to her mind. "You went to buy milk?"

  “I told you we were out," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What are you doing here?" His eyes fell to the suitcase she held in her hand.

  "I…" Faced with the warm-blooded reality of him, words seemed to leave her brain. There was nothing there but insane joy. "I remembered that I forgot something I needed."

  Slowly, he came down the hall toward her. "Me?" he asked softly.

  She met his gaze steadily. "Yes."

  In the soft light of the hall, his eyes seemed to burn over her. "Unlock the door."

  She forced her hands to steadiness and did as he asked. He picked up her suitcase and followed her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped her case to the floor, set the milk on the table, and turned. “I tried my damnedest to get that article killed.”

  “I know, I know.” She lifted her head. “I know you would never do anything to hurt me, that you’d do everything in your power to protect me from hurt.”

  "What took you so long to figure that out," he said silkily, and then he smiled. It was the most beautiful, self-assured, utterly arrogant male smile she had ever seen.

  She threw herself into his arms, loving the rock-hard feel of his body braced against hers. “It might have been easier if you weren’t so darn sexy.”

  "Is that so?" he breathed, smoothing her hair, his fingers finding and unclasping the turquoise holder and tossing it to the counter. Her hair tumbled free, and he threaded his fingers through it as if he were savoring its lush silkiness. "You couldn’t tell that you had me from the first moment I saw you?"

  "How could I? I had those silly jodhpurs on…” Her arms tightened.

  “You’d look good in a sheet.” He leaned back against the counter, taking the full weight of her on his lean body, his warm mouth nuzzling her hair. "This is all very nice, Miss Carlow, but why aren't you at school?"

  "I came home because Eve told me about you trying to block the article. I knew Paul had talked about me and I knew you wouldn't and I knew I loved you and there was no comparison between the two of you and I was crazy to think you would ever be like him."

  He clamped hard fingers around her upper arms and held her away to look into her face. "What did you say?"

  "There was an article in the paper…"

  "Not the damn article. The part about loving me.''

  She flushed and slid her hands up the front of his chest under his jacket. "I didn't want to," she whispered. "I tried so hard not to fall in love with you. But after you went into that field with me and cut those corn stalks…you were so adorable with all those corn tassels and seeds on you."

  He caught her to him and planted a hard, possessive kiss on her lips. "That stuff was sure itchy. But worth it. " He had that self-satisfied look lifting the corners of his mouth that she was beginning to know very well, "Oh sweetheart, I love you so much. I can't believe you left school to come looking for me."

  His mouth rained kisses over her face in a punishing reward. When he raised his head, she said in a throaty voice, "I'll give up my job," her heart kicking with joy, her fingers coming up to trace the generous curve of his mouth.

  "No, not yet. I'll stay here and write, at least for the rest of the winter."

  She held herself away from him. "You can't stop making films; you've got to go on doing what you're doing. I would never to stand in your way."

  He gazed at her thoughtfully. "You have been doing some thinking, haven't you?"

  "Maybe for the first time in my life I'm really thinking clearly. Thinking about what I want, what's possible for me, instead of hiding away because of who my mother was."

  His smile blazed over her. "And to think I almost didn't leave this morning. Believe me, it took more courage and self-control to do that than anything I’ve ever done." He locked his arms around her. "I didn’t have time to explain, and I knew you’d think I was walking out on you."

  "And I kept thinking if you really cared about me, you wouldn't go."

  He unbuttoned her coat and let it slide to the floor. "Just so I’m clear on this…where were you going with the suitcase?"

  "Out looking for you," she murmured, "to the end of the earth if I had to."

  "Or even to Hollywood?" He tugged at the silk bow, his fingers loosening it. You look so prim and proper and ready for school, it’s almost a shame to undress you.”

  “But you’ll do it, anyway, won’t you?” She looked a bit smug herself.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “In that leather jacket, you look far too much like the sexiest leading man on the planet.”

  "There's only one leading man I want to play," he muttered. "The role of husband and father. I won't settle for anything less than a lifetime run."

  Her body sang with relief and joy. "Oh, Ty." She gave him a brilliant smile.

  "Do you have to go back to school?" his voice husky as his fingers moved over her buttons. "If you do, you'd better go now before I take you in the bedroom."

  "I told Hunt to find a substitute. I have the day off…unless you think I shouldn’t play hooky."

  "Hooky for a whole day sounds like a great idea," he said, scooping her up into his arms. "Maybe we'll think of a way to spend it."

  "You're the creative genius. Any ideas?" She nestled in his arms, sweetly innocent.

  He swung her to the bed and followed her down, his lips curved in a smile. "Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something if the setting is right.''

  "What about the main characters? Do they know their lines?"

  "They can improvise."

  "They might get stuck on one idea…like-Ty Rundell, I love you, love you, love you." She reached up and clasped him around the neck, pulling him down to her.

  He shrugged, his hands pulling her tie loose and making her look less like a schoolteacher and more like a sexy woman ready to be loved. "Some lines bear repeating."

  "I'll say it until you get tired of hearing it."

  "You couldn't live that long, Leigh. Now stop talking and kiss me."

  His warm mouth took hers with a possession that was echoed in the hungry claiming of her own. He was hers, and she was his, and they would have more than one magic night. They would have a lifetime of love. She relaxed and clasped his nape to hold him close and murmur some very un-teacher-like words in his ear about what she’d like to do to him.

  “Wow. You gotta love a creative schoolteacher.”

  “Yes, you do, Mr. Rundell, yes you do.” And she rolled over on top of him and showed him just exactly what she had in mind for his lesson now…and for the rest of their lives.

  Excerpt from Shirley’s next book, not yet titled. If you would like enter the contest to help her give this book a wonderful title, email your suggestions to slarson1943@gmail.com. Don’t forget to include your email address so you may be notified if you’re the winner. The winner will receive a free copy of the book as well as a prize.

  “Okay. Now, let’s see. What if she said, “Maybe it would work better if I lie down on top of you.” Leslie tossed the script on the floor and stretched out on top of Michael. Even though he tried to stop it, the inevitable happened.

  She put both hands behind his head to brace herself and pushed up to look down in his face. “Michael. You…want me.”

  He rose up so fast he had to catch her to keep her from tumbling to the floor. “A temporary aberration, I assure you. Is not that what would happen to any man when a woman lies on top of him?”

  “I’m not an expert on man’s anatomy, but I don’t think so. There has to be some…attraction involved.” When he said nothing, she put her finger under his chin and brought him around to face her. “Are you attracted to me, Michael?”

  “Of course I am, Leslie. How could I not be? You ar
e everything a woman should be, gracious, charming, attractive…”

  “Michael. You mustn’t care for me. I…I’m carrying another man’s child.”

  “I know.”

  “How could you possibly know?”

  He thought about lying and telling her that Marian had told him. But Marian would quickly deny it. “I just…have this ability to know things about people.”

  “And you’re still attracted to me, knowing what I’ve done?”

  “What have you done, Leslie?” He reached out and cupped both her cheeks in his hands. “You loved a man who was not wise enough to know you had given him the greatest gift you could give, the gift of yourself.”

  He brushed his lips over hers, meaning it to be a light kiss of affection and caring. When he made a move to lift his head, Leslie wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, probing with her tongue. Startled, he didn’t respond. But as her tongue took possession of his mouth, he opened and met her eagerly.

  Still kissing him, Leslie pulled him to the couch and pushed him down, coming over half on top of him. Then as they were nearly in the position they started from, she lifted her head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “You tasted really good.”

  “So did you.”

  “I want to taste you again.”

  “Leslie…”

  She covered his protest with her mouth. He lay there, taking her in, knowing he was the one in the wrong. Nothing could come of this. Nothing must come of this. But talk about heavenly. Her reveled in the feel of her, her breasts pressed against his chest, the scent of her veil of dark hair that fell around him, brushing his cheek. And her mouth. Could anything be as wonderful as her mouth on his, her tongue teasing his? It was as if she were an essential part of him, the part he needed to breathe. He almost forgot who he was and where he was…until the gigantic ping reminded him. He was an angel.

  He cupped her shoulders with his hands and gently pushed her up and away from him.

  She roused up and looked so beautifully contrite that his heart ached.