Colter Gamblers: Gambling On A Heart Part 17

She turned away from the depiction of the life that could have been hers. "Lisa was so beautiful." Her voice sounded as if she'd dragged it out of her over sandpaper. She hated herself for reminding him of how much she would never measure up to his dead wife.

"Yes, she was." He held her gaze as if looking for the secrets of the universe.

"Zack..."

She gasped when he pulled her to him. "And so are you," he whispered against her lips and swallowed her will to disbelieve with his blazing kiss.

Much as he had on that Christmas Eve a lifetime ago, Zack led her down the hall to the open heavy wooden double doors of bedroom at the end. They stopped by the bed, and he deposited a small plastic bag holding a box of condoms on the bedside table.

Anxiousness like nothing she'd ever felt before smacked into her like a tornado when she looked at the king-sized bed. The bed wasn't made, but the dark green and tan comforter and plain white sheet were pulled up to the pillows.

"Sorry about the mess." He reached for the buckle of his service belt. "I never entertain company in here."

She bit her lip as he removed the belt holding various gear, including a holstered Glock, and gently laid it on the couch in front of a red brick fireplace. He didn't date and probably hadn't had s.e.x since his wife's death. The prospect of being the first since Lisa both thrilled and scared her to her core.

When he stood before her again, she met his gaze. "Shouldn't you lock that up? Because of the gun?"

The grin tugging on his lips had invisible tentacles attached to the pit in her lower belly where she felt its pull. With his hands on the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt, he said, "Are you afraid of my gun?" He opened more b.u.t.tons, revealing his chest was bare underneath.

As with the night they'd played in the pool, she found it hard not to stare at the muscles moving under the tanned skin and the scar marking the wound that had nearly killed him.

He shrugged out of the s.h.i.+rt. "I wasn't planning on shooting off that particular gun."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots, pulled them off, then his socks. Such a simple act, but the exhaled breath caught behind her heart somewhere in her throat. He stood, held out his hand to her. "Come here."

And despite every warning bell in her going off, she took his hand and let him pull her to him. He wrapped her up in his arms.

"This is crazy. It's the middle of the afternoon. You should be at work trying to figure out who stole your horses. Or sleeping. You said you worked all night."

A grin lifted the corner of his lips. He hadn't shaved, and the day's growth of beard darkened the angle of his jaw and planes of his cheeks. A troublesome lock of hair fell over his forehead. He looked just like the picture of the bad-a.s.sed rodeo cowboy she'd ripped from a friend's calendar and kept folded up in her underwear drawer.

"Yeah, we probably are crazy, but I don't care." A hairsbreadth above her lips, he murmured, "Tell me now if you don't want to do this, Tracy."

He gave her an out. She should walk away now, before she completely lost her heart, but her body had other ideas. She pressed her lips to his and licked the full upper lip. When he pressed her pelvis into his, she felt the hard, long steel of his erection. Parting his lips, he let her tentatively explore his hot mouth. He tasted so good, sweet and spicy. His tongue stroked against hers, and her hands, caught between their bodies, splayed over his hard six-pack and inched their way upward. Only a spa.r.s.e dusting of hair tickled her fingers in their blind exploration. As she stroked over the points of his masculine nipples, he sucked in a heavy breath and caressed his tongue against hers and turned up the pa.s.sion of the kiss to toe-curling.

He slipped his hands under her top, and she shuddered as he caressed up her spine, pus.h.i.+ng the thin material up, breaking the kiss to remove her t-s.h.i.+rt. After tossing it on top of his uniform s.h.i.+rt, he reached for the belt of her pants. Before any semblance of sanity returned, she was stepping out of her sandals and kicking off the slacks pooled around her ankles.

She couldn't meet his gaze. Tracy knew he was peering at her, dressed in her plain white bra and panties. She didn't want to see what she'd find in his eyes.

"Tracy." His voice was low and gentle. Using his finger and thumb, he lifted her chin to bring her eyes to his. He smiled and ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek, down her neck to the small rise above her padded push-up bra.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected to see in the midnight pools, but an inferno wasn't it. He curled his other hand around her hipbone, and he turned her to lay her on the bed. He stretched out beside her, and his lips followed the blazing trail his fingers had made only moments before.

For several moments, he teased the flesh above the edge of her bra. His hand splayed over her belly; the heat warming, tantalizing, making her want so much more. Now that she was committed to going through with making love with him, she ached for him. She squirmed under him, and he rewarded her by flicking open the front closure of her bra and uncovering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

The cool air on the puckered nipples sobered her a little, made her uncomfortable with being so exposed to him. She opened her eyes to him smiling at her. He leaned over and kissed her, while he covered her entire breast with a hand, gently kneading, caressing the tender skin and supersensitive nipple with a work-roughed palm. When she gasped and arched into the sensations, he moved his lips to her ear and huskily whispered, "I've always loved your perky little b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Tracy. Let me show you how much."

His words excited her more than she could explain. She fisted her hands in his hair while he moved his mouth to the nipple he'd been teasing with his hand. With the kind of attention only he'd ever shown her, he encircled the areolas, of first one breast, then the other. Then he sucked, nibbled, and teased the nipples with his fingers. She writhed under his ministrations while fire burned through her veins, sending a shudder through her that could have been the first quakes of o.r.g.a.s.m. By the time he moved his fingers down to her heaving belly, she was a trembling mess, so close to exploding, desperate for his touch.

When he reached her panties, he cupped her and lightly caressed her through the cotton. She arched against him, reaching for more, wanting him. She touched every inch of his shoulders, back and arms she could reach, but it wasn't enough. He wouldn't do more than lightly touch her. She groaned in as much delicious frustration as in pleasure.

He nipped the flesh above the edge of her panties. She moaned and pressed her pubic bone into his touch. He pulled his hand back, not letting her find the pressure she so frantically wanted. She whimpered, begged, "Zack...please..."

He again rewarded her with a little more, but not enough. He slipped his thumbs under the edge of her cotton panties, slid them over her hips, down to her feet. He caressed up her legs to the apex, burrowed his fingers into the nest of curls, and caressed the hungry bundle of nerves hidden within. She gasped his name again and clawed at the bedding when his fingers encircled her c.l.i.toris, around and around, but never quite close enough.

Then his mouth and tongue replaced his fingers. The fire turned her insides to lava, building, bubbling. She rolled her hips into his touch. When he suckled her and pressed a finger into her, she blew apart, erupting into a million flaming pieces.

Once the splinters burned out and the ashes cooled, congealing back into place, she opened her eyes to him leaning over her. He kissed her, then stood beside the bed and undid the fly of his pants. He gave her a s.e.xy grin and pushed the trousers down his muscular legs. He was as magnificent as he'd been all those years ago, but maturity had been generous. Slowly she moved her gaze up his body and met his. The hunger there was unmistakable and the pressure in the pit of her belly built again.

He kneeled between her legs and unfurled a condom over his erection. Her eyes drifted closed, waiting for him to thrust into her and find his own pleasure. Instead, he leaned over her, his breathing rapid, his voice smoky in her ear. "Look at me, Tracy. Watch me love you."

Despite knowing what he meant, his reference to love caused her heart to jump into her throat. He used his knees to spread her legs farther to accommodate him. He kissed her thoroughly and lightly touched, probed, but didn't enter her deeper than his tip. Although she tried to impale herself on him by wrapping her arms and legs around him, he held steady, while she undulated l.u.s.tfully under him. When he broke the kiss, leaving her breathless and shaking, he slipped his hands under her hips, thrusting forward, claiming her with one swift move.

He moved within her in slow, powerful strokes meant to fan the flames into raging blazes within both of them. The brows over his pa.s.sion-darkened eyes lowered, and the lock of golden hair hung over his moist forehead. She pushed it back, held it there as he kissed her in a soulful kiss.

She felt a sensation of being lifted, but hadn't realized what he'd done until he broke the kiss and was kneeling with her wrapped around him and his hands grasping her hips. Her head lolled back when he increased the pace by guiding her over his shaft. He kissed her neck, the stubble of his beard adding tantalizing tingles over her sweat-slickened skin. Their bodies entwined as one, moving in perfect rhythm like a well-oiled machine. He caught one of her nipples in his mouth and suckled. Seismic waves of pleasure danced over her sensitive nerves, turning up the heat on the pool in the center of her being.

"Oh, G.o.d, Zack," she may have said, or merely thought. He was so deep, and the friction so sweet. "I'm..."

The rest was lost on a long, breathy exaltation as the climax shattered her. She clung to him as he slowly moved her over him, dragging out the ecstasy. Then he laid her down onto her back again, never breaking contact. He lifted her hips off the bed and pulled almost out to plunge into her with fast, deep strokes.

She had to be spent, but to her fuzzy astonishment, the bubbling heat was back, quickly building in pressure and energy with each hungry thrust.

"Tracy." He groaned and took her with him when he found release.

Chapter 12.

"What's going on?" Zack asked Dawn after she picked up on her end. He had no idea what he'd tell her if she questioned him for the reason his cell was off. He'd told her to call him if they found anything, after all. Figures that during the one time he'd turned his cell off, she'd try to call him. She never called.

"Finally." The irritation in Dawn's voice poked at Zack's sense of responsibility. "Nice of you to call me back, Sheriff Cartwright."

"Somehow my phone was turned off." He watched the flat landscape speed by. There was no somehow about it; he'd turned it off right before entering the house with newly purchased condoms in hand.

He drove back to town like a wild man. Not exactly speeding, but he definitely pushed the envelope, just as he had with the trip to and from Hamilton. Not only had he missed Dawn's calls, but the daycare closed in five minutes. How could he have been so carried away he'd completely lost track of time?

Had he actually made love with Tracy three times in five hours? The last time had been hot and slick in the shower, which was why they both were now racing to town to pick up their children. Tracy'd run out first, her hair still damp and her lips swollen from his kisses.

He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. Dear G.o.d, one look at her and everyone in town would know exactly what she'd done with her afternoon off. Maybe that wasn't such a shocker regarding Tracy. But it wouldn't take a genius to add up the tally. Zack Cartwright never took a day off no matter how many hours he spent at the job, and he never turned off his cell phone.

Something about his a.s.sumption about what people thought of Tracy bothered him. She hadn't acted like a woman who routinely had wild, steamy s.e.x in the middle of the afternoon. She'd been shy and nervous until he'd aroused her beyond nervousness. If he hadn't known better, he'd bet she hadn't had s.e.x in a very long time.

Dawn's voice jerked him out of his ponderings. "You may want to check your messages a little more frequently."

Annoyed with her as much as with himself, he tightened his hold on the phone. "What the h.e.l.l is so important, Madison?"

Huffing, she smoothed her feathers. "My team just finished combing the area, and I found some evidence, Zack. Blood on a mesquite branch, and a few drops near the first set of truck tires. I don't know how we missed them until now. I've sent it off to be a.n.a.lyzed. The Texas Ranger may have also found a witness."

"That's the best d.a.m.n news I've heard in a while." Zack slowed as he pa.s.sed the first clump of houses leading into town where the speed limit took a drastic drop from forty-five to twenty-five. The cla.s.sic small town speed trap.

"I've called everyone in who's involved with the case. Hope you don't mind, boss," she added a beat too late.

He smiled and turned on the right signal. "Pat yourself on the back. You saved me from giving the order."

She laughed. "So, when can I expect you to show up?"

He turned on to Main Street as the light changed from green to yellow, and cringed as a car full of teenagers, who had stopped in the opposing lane, saw him coming toward the light without slowing and watched him go through the caution signal.

"I'm on my way to pick up Mandy. The daycare closes in..." He glanced at the clock on the dash. "In two minutes. I'll be in as soon as I figure out what to do with her."

He parked along the empty curb. d.a.m.n, Mandy was the last to be picked up, which meant Beth was the only adult around. "Dawn, I gotta go. I'll be at the office within the hour."

Disconnecting the call, he reached for the door handle and wondered where Mandy could stay for the evening. His parents and uncle and aunt had gone to Dallas for some charity function. He thought about calling Audrey, but quickly squashed that idea. Lance's comment about Mandy's care still irked him. And he never called Amy Jackson when an all-nighter was in the cards, especially on a school night.

Not for the first time, he thought about how much easier things would be if he hired a nanny or a housekeeper. And quickly threw out that idea, too. The last thing he wanted was a nanny raising his daughter.

So, p.a.w.ning her off to whoever is available is better?

Pulling open the door to the daycare, he gritted his teeth at the answer.

He hated his conscience sometimes.

"Daddy!" Mandy squealed and made a running leap toward him. He kneeled to catch her and wrapped his arms around her. "Where were you? I was getting worried. Miz Beth said you didn't call. You always call when you're late."

The very real concern in her voice tugged at something deep within him. Mandy wasn't a baby anymore. She understood that, despite the lack of rabid crime in the county, her father's life was in danger every time he strapped on his gun and pinned on his star. He pulled her against him for a moment, closed his eyes and murmured close to her ear, "I'm sorry, baby girl. Did you have a good day?"

She stepped away and nodded. "Today was fun. We went on the fieldtrip to the museum in Dallas, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Vaguely. He remembered signing a permission slip among the pile of papers she'd received her first day of school. He'd forgotten the trip was today. "Well, go get your bag and let's get going."

Watching her scamper off, he became aware of the woman standing before the reception desk. He looked over at her and gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Beth, I should've called."

The youngest daughter of Aida Mae Pratt, Beth was twenty-nine and had been close to marriage twice, but had been dumped by the prospective grooms only days before both ceremonies. She'd moved back to Colton three years ago and opened Little People Daycare and Preschool. She lived in the remodeled carriage house behind the old house, which she'd converted into her daycare. Taking a page from her mother's book, she'd redone the upstairs into two apartments and rented them to college kids during the school year, offsetting her loss of income when the kids went back to school. The short blonde smiled. "No problem. I heard about those rustlers. .h.i.tting up your place. I'm sorry. Hope you soon catch them."

"We will." He glanced back to the hall down which Mandy had disappeared.

"I know you will." Beth s.h.i.+fted and took a deep breath, pus.h.i.+ng out her sizable chest.

Inwardly, he groaned. She was going to ask him out again. Beth had been asking him to come with her to picnics and street fairs for the past six months. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive; he did. But she wasn't his type. Besides, Logan had dated her in high school. She was Logan's typeblond, bubbly, big b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He and Logan had never fought over women because they had completely different tastes, and they'd never dated each other's castoffs even when the lines between types became blurred.

At last, she must have found her gumption and said with a bright, inviting smile, "I was wondering if you and Mandy would like to come with me to a barbeque after the roundup at my brother's place on Sat.u.r.day."

Her blue eyes brightened with hope, and he hated turning her down. But he despised the idea of getting tangled up with Beth Pratt even more. He pasted on a smile. "I'm sorry, Beth. I can't."

"Oh, that's okay. Maybe next time." She clasped her hands in front of her.

He glanced toward the back room, hoped Mandy didn't return at that moment, and cleared his throat of the sudden lump. "I'm seeing someone."

"Ah, yes, I heard about you and Tracy Parker. Momma mentioned you came into her salon this morning."

"We had lunch together," he lied. He knew Aida Mae would have told everyone she knew about him being at Tracy's salon. Not exactly the way he wanted it to come out, especially since he'd been turning Beth down for six months straight. She deserved an honest answer as to why he didn't want her.

Why was that, anyway? If any woman would do, Beth was more than willing. Despite the daycare and the respectability she had now, Beth Pratt had been wild in her younger days. Even he didn't buy the bulls.h.i.+t about her and Logan going at it like two dogs in heat way back when being the reason either. He remembered the afternoon with Tracy naked in his bed and a hot knot formed deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Daddy, I'm ready."

Amanda's voice drew him out of his contemplations.

"Okay, let's go. Tell Miz Beth thank you." He smiled apologetically at Beth.

Mandy took hold of his hand. "Thanks for staying late and watching me."

Beth's smile appeared stiff. "That's okay. Have a good night, y'all."

"You too." He tipped his hat and turned to leave.

He buckled them both into the truck, climbed in behind the wheel, and looked over his shoulder at Mandy, dreading the whole time what he had to say to her. "I have to work tonight, baby girl. I'm hoping Josie can take care of you." His parents' old housekeeper loved having Mandy around, but she was pus.h.i.+ng seventy-five and had bad arthritis.

Mandy's face fell. "But you were working all day and all last night. I thought you said we'd have your special tacos for dinner and ice cream later."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, put the truck into gear, and moved away from the curb. "I wasn't at the office this afternoon. I had something I needed to do. But I have to go in tonight. We might know who stole our horses."

"Oh. That's good." Mandy loved horses and had cried Sat.u.r.day morning when she found out about the theft.

When he was almost at the intersection, he pulled out his phone to call Josie, praying she could keep Mandy that night.

"Daddy, can I stay with Miz Tracy tonight?"

Mandy's question stopped him from pressing the connect b.u.t.ton.

"Miz Josie always smells funny." She wrinkled her nose.

Addicted to Ben Gay, Josie loved to use the stuff on her arthritic joints. He remembered her smelling of it even when he was a boy. But letting Mandy stay with Tracy seemed unfair to Mandy. He knew she was bonding with the woman, but despite what he'd promised Tracy that morning, he had no intention of allowing Mandy with her for long periods of time. He trusted Tracy with his daughter; however, Mandy would suffer when they called it quits once the l.u.s.t burned out. He had to protect his baby's fragile heart. It was only now whole again from her mother's death.

"Please, Daddy. I know she's at Bobby's football practice. Call her."

"Okay," he thrust out, drawing the word from somewhere around his ankles. "I'll call her."

Five minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald's by the mall where Tracy had taken Bobby for a quick dinner. Mandy's face lit up when she noticed Tracy waiting for them on the sidewalk. Tracy had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and the wild-afternoon-s.e.x glow had dimmed. When their eyes connected, he felt the familiar pull of the woman he vowed he'd never let get to him.

How the h.e.l.l had his life suddenly become so complicated?