"I'm not going to move," she said, repeating a sentence she must have said twenty times when she had been here to fill out the report on the dead cat.
"Then how about getting yourself a dog? It doesn't have to be a guard dog, just one that will set up a racket if it hears anything outside."
Surprised, she stared at him. A dog. She'd never had a pet of any kind, so that option simply hadn't occurred to her. "Why, I think I will. Thank you, Sheriff. That's a good idea."
"Good. Get one as soon as possible. Stop by the pound and pick out a young, healthy one. A half-grown youngster would be good, still young enough to take to you real quick, but old enough that it can bark, not just make puppy yaps." He looked down at the note on his desk. "About all I can do right now is have my deputies drive by your house a couple of times each shift. We just don't have much to go on."
"And a few notes and a dead cat aren't exactly the crime of the century."
He gave her a quick grin, full of Huckleberry Finn charm. "Can't even get 'im for cruelty to animals. If it makes you feel any better, the cat wasn't tortured. It was a road kill. Somebody just scooped it up, is all. It makes me feel a little better about the danger of the situation. A real psycho would have enjoyed killing a cat."
It did make her feel better. The memory of that mangled little corpse had made her feel sick every time it came to mind. The cat was still just as dead, but at least if it had been hit by a car, it had probably died instantly. She couldn't bear to think that it had suffered.
She left the sheriffs department and retraced her path. Halfway down the long corridor, she saw a tall, powerfully built man with long, dark hair stop to speak to the little blue-haired lady.
Faith's heart almost stopped. Without missing a step she whipped around to go back toward the sheriffs department, panicked at the thought of facing him again after the rawness of their last meeting. It was a purely instinctive reaction; her mind knew she needed to talk to him, but her body fled.
She heard the low rumble of his voice, recognizable anywhere, and speeded her steps. As she reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner, she glanced back and saw him striding rapidly toward her, his long legs shrinking the distance between them at an alarming rate. His dark eyes were locked on her.
She whisked around the corner, and the women's rest room was right there, on the left. She saw the sign and darted inside, then pushed the door closed and stood with one hand pressed to her chest in an effort to calm the thudding of her heart. She glanced around. She was alone in the tiny, two-stall facility, and she waited, frozen, for the sound of his footsteps passing by.
The door swung abruptly inward, forcing her to jump back to avoid being hit. Gray filled the doorway, big and muscular and threatening, a dark scowl on his face. His eyes glittered like black ice.
Faith tried to back away, but she bumped against the wash-area counter. There was very little room for maneuvering in the tiny rest room. "You can't come in here!"
He stepped forward and shut the door. "Are you sure about that?"
She took a deep breath, reaching for calmness. "Someone will come in."
"Maybe." He moved closer, so close that only inches separated them and she had to tilt her head back to see him. "Maybe not. You chose the place, I didn't,"
"I didn't choose anything," she snapped. "I was trying to avoid you "
"I noticed," he said dryly. "What are you doing here?"
There was no reason not to tell him. "I found another note on my car this morning. I brought it to Sheriff McFane."
His scowl grew darker. "Damn it, Faith "
"He told me to get a dog," she said, interrupting the sermon. "I was just on my way to the pound."
"That's a good idea. Don't bother with the pound, though; I'll get one for you. Why didn't you answer the phone yesterday?"
"I didn't want to talk to you." She glared up at him. "I'll get my own dog, thank you. And I'm not pregnant."
His dark brows arched. "How do you know? Did you start your period?"
"No, but it isn't the right time of the month."
He snorted. "Honey, I'm Catholic. I know a lot of kids who got their start at the wrong time of the month."
"Maybe you do, but you can take my word on this." As she spoke, she tried to slide sideways.
Gray put his hands on her waist, trapping her. "For God's sake, stand still," he said irritably. "You're always trying to run away. What do you think I'm going to do to you?"
"The same thing you did the last time I saw you," she retorted, then blushed. As much as she had dreaded meeting him again, now that it had happened, she felt the usual rush of excitement. No matter what, she could never be matter-of-fact about being with him, whether in battle or anything else. Gray wasn't a man who elicited boredom in the people around him. He was too big, too vital, too overwhelmingly male and sexual. Even as a child she had responded to his presence, and now that she was a woman, the effect he had on her was painfully magnified. She would try not to let him know it, but she couldn't lie to herself. Already her body was tightening, growing warm and moist with response. It was instinctive, and totally separate from the dictates of her mind.
His brows lowered over those midnight eyes, which began to glitter. "You liked it," he said softly, dangerously. "Don't try to pretend you weren't willing. I felt every little ripple, baby."
Faith felt the color intensify in her cheeks, and not just from embarrassment. If only he hadn't touched her, if only he weren't so close that she could smell him, hot and musky and deliciously male. "No," she said just as softly. "I wasn't saying that." She paused, gathering herself for the lie of her life. "I just don't want to do it again. It was a mistake, and "
"You're lying." His gaze was on her breasts. Slowly his eyes lifted, and his expression changed again, tightening with lust. "Your nipples are puckered," he whispered, "and I haven't even kissed you yet."
Her breath caught. She didn't have to look down to see if he was telling the truth; she could feel the heavy tightness of her breasts, feel her nipples rasping against the lace that covered them. Warmth was gathering in her body, seeping down to pool in her loins. She stared helplessly at him.
Color darkened his high cheekbones, and his breathing deepened. "Faith," he murmured.
The tension was like a cord between them, thrumming with awareness. She felt as if the cord were being reeled in, inexorably pulling them together. Panicked, she flattened her hands on his chest and pushed, with a total lack of results. "We can't," she said weakly. "Not here, for God's sake!"
He wasn't listening. His eyes were fastened on her mouth. He said, "What?" in an absent tone as his hands tightened on her waist and pulled her against him. She moaned aloud at the feel of his hard, vital body pressed all along her. He bent his head to kiss her, and she automatically lifted her mouth. His lips were soft, his mouth hot. Response thrilled through her, as irresistible as the tide, and her hands stopped pushing against him to clench fistfuls of his shirt. He urged her even closer, and slanted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. She made a little "hmmm" of delight and sucked at it, curling her own tongue upward to stroke his.
He shuddered as if struck, and cupped her buttocks to lift her hard against his thick erection. The heat of desire exploded into a wildfire, melding them together. He tore his mouth free and groaned, "Jesus," as he jerked up her skirt and roughly shoved her panties down her thighs.
The sink counter was cold against her bare buttocks, and she blinked at the shock, surfacing a bit from the dark tide. "Wait," she blurted.
"I can't." His voice was rough, shaky. He gripped her hips with one arm as he bent to strip her panties completely off. Before she could react, he straightened and hoisted her onto the counter. Pushing her thighs apart, he moved between them, then began jerking frenziedly at the zipper of his fly. He grunted as he freed his erection, and then guided himself to her. Faith dug her nails into his heavy shoulders as she felt the heat of his naked flesh pressing against her soft folds, burrowing between them, searching for the opening to her body. He found it, and she moaned at the pressure as that heavy invasion began. He pushed into her, stretching her almost unbearably. She was still a little sore from the first time, and he felt even more massive than before.
Then he was in her to the hilt, and he paused, resting his damp forehead against hers. "God, you're tight as a fist," he gasped. She was trembling violently, and he gathered her closer, stroking her back, comforting her. After a moment he moved experimentally, restrained little thrusts that set oif spasms of painfully intense pleasure and made both of them shudder wildly.
"Just putting it in you makes me ready to come." His voice was thick, his breath warm in her ear. He thrust a little harder, a little faster. She felt the thick ridge of his penis head moving back and forth inside her, and her inner muscles clamped down in frantic pleasure. She moaned again, digging her nails into him in an effort to control that wild rush. He cursed, the words low and shaky with delight. Putting his hand on her bare bottom, he pulled her to the edge of the counter, positioning her so that every thrust ground him against her exposed, straining little sexual nub. It was what he had done before, and she had no more defense against it than she'd had the first time.
He began thrusting heavily into her, pounding toward orgasm. She felt on fire, arching helplessly to meet his hips, the ecstatic tension in her loins coiling violently, out of control, her body taken over by and intent on this swelling, ungovernable pleasure.
The door creaked as it began to open.
Gray moved like lightning, slapping his left palm against the door and slamming it shut before it had opened more than a fraction of an inch. "Hey!" a woman squawked indignantly from the other side.
"This one's occupied," he said hoarsely, not missing a beat with his plunging hips. "Go somewhere else." Faith couldn't say anything. Her eyes widened with alarm, but all she could do was look helplessly up at him.
Gray's lips drew back over his teeth and his head dropped forward as he began hammering faster. His face was flushed, satisfaction only a few moments away.
Faith shuddered wildly as the coil of tension suddenly released and the fierce, pulsing flood of sensation swept through her. Shivering and pushing hard against him, she buried her face against his chest and bit his shirt to muffle her gasping cries.
He kept his hand flat against the door, gripping her bottom with his right hand to anchor himself. He shoved hard into her, twice, three times, again, then bucked violently. His head fell back and a harsh, guttural cry rumbled up from his chest.
There was an insistent banging on the door. "What are you doing in there?" the woman said in shrill, grating tones. "That's the lady's room! You aren't supposed to be in there!"
Slowly Gray's head came up. The expression in his eyes was indescribable, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. He took a deep breath, and exploded. "Goddamn it, woman!" he roared with furious indignation. "Can't you tell I'm busy?"
Faith dissolved into laughter.
Eighteen
Faith had never been more embarrassed in her life. When she got home, she dashed into the house and locked all the doors, as if that would do any good. She had no clear memory of the drive home, but she could recall in excruciating detail every step she had made through the courthouse, with her face flaming and her thighs sticking together, and every curious look had made her want to cringe. She hadn't, though; she had walked out with her chin in the air and an "I dare you to say anything" look on her face. The bluff must have worked, because no one had stopped her.
She had jumped off the counter as soon as Gray released her, and locked herself in one of the stalls. Uncontrollable giggles shook her as she tried to tidy herself. The arrival of her panties, tossed over the top of the stall, sent her into absolute whoops. "Would you shut up?" she heard Gray mutter fiercely, and she all but collapsed in hysterics. He said something else, but she didn't understand him, and a moment later the door squeaked as he left. It swung open immediately, and a pair of navy pumps took up residence in the stall next to Faith. The owner of the pumps was also the owner of the shrill voice, and she was extremely indignant.
"I ought to tell the sheriff," she said huffily, loud enough that Faith could hear her over the sound of her own giggles.
"Carryin' on in the ladies' rest room! No telling who might have walked in, maybe a mother with her little kids, and just imagine children seein' something like that. It's sinful and disgusting, the way people don't have no shame anymore "
The tirade was delivered to the accompaniment of a steady stream of urine splashing into the toilet bowl. Evidently part of the lady's wrath was due to the fact that she had been in desperate need of a bathroom. Trying to control her giggles, Faith took advantage of the woman's preoccupation and dashed out of the stall. Once in the hallway, she tried to assume a normal air, and walked quickly to her car. Gray hadn't been anywhere in sight, but then she hadn't exactly looked for him. Probably he'd ducked into the men's room.
Faith sank down in a kitchen chair and covered her face with her hands, groaning with mortification. What was wrong with her, that she couldn't manage to say no to him even in a public place? The courthouse rest room! Even Renee had used more discretion than that.
The telephone rang, but she didn't move to answer it. The machine in the office picked up, and she heard Gray's deep voice, but was too far away to understand what he was saying. He hung up, and a few minutes later the phone rang again. This time, however, Faith recognized Margot's voice. She knew she should pick up, but she didn't. She simply couldn't carry on a normal conversation; her nerves were still jangling, and she was physically shaking from the aftereffects of an adrenaline rush. She didn't understand how risk junkies got addicted, because the crash was making her sick.
When she thought her knees would support her, she got up and headed for the bathroom. What she needed right now, more than anything, was a shower.
Gray shook his head in disbelief at himself as he drove to Faith's house. He was sure she was there, even though she hadn't answered the phone. He couldn't believe what they'd done, or the force of the attraction that had made it irresistible. He hadn't done anything that stupid even as a teenager, and God knows he'd been wild as a buck.
He snorted with suppressed laughter. That damned old biddy! Faith had jumped up and hidden in a stall, laughing like a maniac, and he'd been left there with one hand on the door to keep it shut, and his pants down around his knees. Quickly he'd shifted position, moving to stand with his back against the door while he pulled up his pants. Faith's panties had been lying on the floor, so he'd scooped them up and tossed them over the stall, and she'd shrieked all the louder despite his order to be quiet. The old bitch outside wasn't going away; she kept beating on the door, getting louder and louder. Between her and Faith, he was almost deafened.
Finally he told Faith he'd meet her out front, but he wasn't certain she'd heard him, the way she was whooping hysterically. There was nothing to do but brazen it out. After glancing down to make certain everything was zipped and fastened, he opened the door and stepped out, glaring down at a plump, red-faced woman who was all but squirming with indignation. She sputtered furiously at him, but Gray cut her off". "The men's room was full," he snapped. "What did you expect me to do, piss in the hallway?" Then he stalked into the men's room, which was right next door, and leaned against the wall until his shoulders stopped shaking with silent laughter, because the old biddy had snapped right back, "Then what did you piss in, the sink?"
Oh, Jesus. He began laughing helplessly again. He knew the old biddy, at least by sight. She worked in the tax assessor's office. The tale that he'd been fooling around with some hussy in the women's rest room would be all over the courthouse by lunch, and all over the town by tomorrow morning.
His grin faded. Faith would be mortified.
She probably was anyway. She hadn't waited for him out front, but had probably driven home with all possible speed, and barricaded herself in the house. His little Puritan would be sick with embarrassment.
He sighed with relief when he saw her car in the driveway. He pulled in, but didn't stop behind her car. Instead he steered his car around to the backyard, and circled behind the open tool shed where she kept her lawn mower. Honeysuckle vines grew over the shed and part of the way up a steel cable bracing a power pole, forming a nice screen to hide the car. He nosed the Jaguar forward until the hood was just touching the honeysuckle, then got out, checking in both directions. The road wasn't visible in either direction, so that meant the car wasn't visible from the road. He felt like an idiot, but he hoped Faith appreciated the concern for her reputation.
He went to the kitchen door and rapped on it, waiting impatiently. She didn't open it, and he knocked again. "Faith, open the door."
Faith halted on the other side of the door, her hand hovering at the curtain. She had just been about to twitch it aside and see who was pounding on her kitchen door. She had almost jumped out of her skin at the sounds of a car pulling into her driveway and behind the house. She was relieved that it was Gray, but of all the people she didn't think she could face right now, he headed the list.
"Go away," she said.
The doorknob rattled. "Faith." Her name was spoken softly, calmly. "Open the door, baby."
"Why?"
"We have things to talk over."
Undoubtedly, but she didn't want to do it. She wanted to be a coward about the whole thing, and hide until she was over the embarrassment. "Maybe tomorrow," she hedged.
"Now." There it was, that gentle, inflexible note that said her door would be kicked open within the next ten seconds if she didn't open it herself. Helpless and resentful, she unlocked the door.
He stepped inside and immediately turned the lock again, his gaze never leaving her. She had just gotten out of the shower, and hadn't had time to dress before she heard the car pulling in. She had grabbed her thin robe from the back of the bathroom door, and put it on. There was nothing seductive about the robe; it was plain, white cotton, belted at the waist. But she was acutely aware that, beneath it, she was damp and bare. She clutched the lapels together over her breasts. "What do you want to talk about?"
An incredibly gentle smile spread over his face as he looked down at her. "Later," he said, and swept her up in his arms.
Two hours later, they lay sweaty and exhausted amid the tangled sheets on her bed. The noon sun forced its way through the closed slats of the blinds, throwing thin lines of white across the floor. A gentle breeze from the ceiling fan wafted across her bare flesh, raising tiny goose bumps. Her body was so acutely sensitive that she imagined she could feel each fine, downy hair lifting at the slight chill. Her heart was beating in slow, heavy thumps, her veins and arteries pulsing with each beat. Gray lay sprawled on his back, his eyes closed and his chest heaving, while she was curled against his side with her head pillowed on his shoulder.
It was a long time before she felt as if she could move. Her limbs were heavy and limp, utterly boneless. In those two hours he had taken her three times, with as much ferocity as if the time in the courthouse hadn't happened. And as demanding and immediate as his hunger had been, her response had matched it. She had clung to him, her nails digging into his back, her hips lifting eagerly to meet each thrust, and it seemed as if her fire had only fed his own. She didn't know how^many times she had reached satisfaction; this last time had felt like one long swell that crested, then refused to subside, so that she had been awash in sensation, drunk with pleasure.
As his breathing slowed, Gray stirred beside her and tried to lift his head, only to let it fall back with a groan. "Oh, God. I can't move."
"Then don't," she muttered, opening her eyes a slit.
A couple of minutes later, he tried again. With a great deal of effort he raised his head and slowly surveyed the tangle of their nude bodies lying amid the wreckage of the bed. His gaze settled on his penis, lying soft on his thighs. "You damn fool," he barked. "This time, stay down!"
The whimsy startled her, and she began giggling helplessly. She buried her face against his shoulder, her entire body shaking.
Gray let his head drop back to the pillow, and cuddled her closer. "Easy for you to laugh," he grumbled. "The damn thing's trying to kill me. It never has had much stopping sense, but this is ridiculous. It must think I'm still sixteen."
"It can't think," she pointed out, her giggles increasing.
"You're telling me. You can reason with something that thinks." Her giggles escalated even more, and he tickled her in revenge. "Stop laughing," he ordered, though a smile teased his mouth. "Do you know what it's like to have a prominent body part that won't listen to either common sense or orders?"
"Well, no, but I know what it's like to be in the vicinity of one."
He chuckled and lazily rubbed his hand across his chest. "Do you know why men name their cocks?"
"No, why?" she asked, trying to stifle her laughter.
"So most of the major decisions in their lives won't be made by a total stranger."
They shook with laughter, and Faith grabbed a corner of the sheet to dry her eyes. She had never seen this playful, bawdy side of Gray before, and she was charmed down to her toes.
He heaved himself up on his elbow, holding her head cradled in the crook of his arm as he smiled down at her. "It's all your fault, anyway," he told her, smoothing a tangle of dark red hair away from her face. His hand continued in a slow stroke down her throat, over the delicate sweep of her collarbone, to close over her breast.
"Mine?" she asked indignantly.
"Sure." Gently he cupped her breast, lifting it. He lightly rasped the pad of his thumb over the puffy pink swell of her nipple, and watched in fascination as it immediately puckered and turned red. "Your nipples are like raspberries," he marveled, and leaned down to take that particular raspberry into his mouth, circling it with his tongjie, rolling it back and forth.
Faith quivered in his arms, alarmed by the immediate swell of desire. She didn't think she could stand it again. "I can't," she moaned, but he noticed that her other nipple had also puckered.
He drew back and admired his work, the red nipple glistening wetly. "That's good," he said absently, "because I sure as hell can't." Faith's breasts were pale, with the sheen of satin, and her skin so translucent and fine that the blue tracery of veins seemed just under the surface. They were firm and full and upright, and he couldn't keep his hands off of them. Hell, he couldn't keep his hands off of her, period. "Just think how pretty these will be, when they're full of milk."
She slapped his shoulder. "I told you, I'm not pregnant!"
"You don't know that," he teased.