Holding Out For A Hero Read online

  “I knew I’d set the brake. I was hoping it was all about insurance. Then I saw the three other guys and figured it wasn’t.”

  Her jaw clenched. “Then why in heaven’s name didn’t you turn around and come back inside?”

  “Because he just would have tried again later, with a new set of bullies. I decided to get this part over with.”

  “Oh, did you? And what’s the next part, allowing him to have you killed?”

  “He won’t go that far.”

  She laughed in disbelief.

  “No, seriously. This is just an old-fashioned brand of intimidation. Once he finds out that I’m still here, even after his boys beat me up, he’ll search for a new tactic. I’m not sure what it’ll be, but I think the physical part is over.”

  As Dori listened to him breathe, she thought of how every inhalation must hurt his cracked ribs. Yes, the physical intimidation was indeed over. She’d make sure of it. Beneath her rage at Jimmy and her impatience at Tanner’s willingness to take such punishment lay a reservoir of guilt, boiling hot enough to scald her conscience. She’d brought Tanner into this situation. If she hadn’t written to him, he wouldn’t have a black eye, broken nose and cracked ribs. He’d be dating some other woman who had admired his picture in Texas Men. Some safe woman with a cozy apartment, and a cat, and no complications in her life.

  Dori had to convince him to go back to Dallas, even if that meant giving up her idea of creating a two-parent household for Little Jim. Even if it meant giving up Tanner before she knew if they’d make wonderful lovers and best friends. No matter how much she wanted that, she wouldn’t sacrifice another human being, let alone a dear man like Tanner, in her efforts to get it.

  Maybe Jimmy Jr. wouldn’t send another bunch of punks to use Tanner as a human punching bag, but then again maybe he would. It would be simple, really, to get Tanner out of town. She’d just tell him that she couldn’t imagine a future together and he might as well go home and answer somebody else’s letter. He couldn’t argue with her if she told him she didn’t want him.

  She took a deep breath and shoved her own dreams and plans aside. Might as well get it over with. “Tanner?”

  There was no response except for the sound of his breathing. She disengaged herself from his loose grip and propped herself up so she could study his face. He was asleep.

  She tried to ignore a feeling of relief as she crept out of the bed and left the room. They’d still have to have their final conversation, of course. But not quite yet. She closed the door softly behind her and headed for her kitchen phone. It was nearly one in the morning, but she didn’t give a damn. She had a call to make and the idea of waking up the Devaney household didn’t faze her.

  After five rings, James Devaney answered with a curt and impatient “Yes?”

  “Let me speak to Jimmy.”

  “Dori, Jimmy Jr. is asleep.” He sounded furious, but then he often sounded furious. “So is everyone else in this house, or, at least, we were. Are you drunk?”

  “I am stone-cold sober, James.” She’d seldom had the nerve to use his given name when she’d lived there. There was great satisfaction in using it tonight. “And I want to talk to your son. Now.”

  He raised his voice, one of his favorite tricks for subduing subordinates. “I’m hanging up this phone, Dori Mae. And don’t you ever try to give me orders again.”

  “Did Jimmy tell you about throwing the stink bomb in Mr. Confer’s window when he was a senior in high school?”

  “What?”

  “He told me. I imagine Deputy Holt would like to know about that little prank. The sheriff’s department keeps records on things like that. He might be able to compare the type of bomb used with the type somebody tossed into a room at the Prairie Schooner Monday night.”

  “You are drunk, young lady. I—”

  She heard the sound of him muffling the receiver.

  Then the muffling disappeared. “Make it quick,” James said from a distance. “I don’t appreciate getting calls at one in the morning.”

  Jimmy Jr. came on the line. “Miss me, sweetheart? Want Jimmy to come over and make you feel good?”

  “You arrogant, mean son of a bitch.”

  “Dori, honey, you know our women don’t swear like that. It’s so unbecomin’ on somebody as pretty as you.”

  Her fingers tightened around the receiver. “You sent those punks to beat him up, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t have the first clue what you’re talkin’ about, baby. Beat who up?”

  “You did it, all right, just like you arranged to have the stink bomb thrown into his motel room. I know you, Jimmy. I’m telling Deputy Holt about the bomb you put in Mr. Confer’s house. He was around then, probably remembers it real well. Maybe he can tie the two bombings together.”

  “I guess you got ahold of some locoweed, sweetheart. I didn’t do any such thing as throw a stink bomb, either into old man Confer’s house or the Prairie Schooner.”

  “You did! You told me exactly how!”

  “But that’d be your word against mine, now wouldn’t it? And everybody knows you’re tryin’ to get me in trouble, on account of Little Jim and all.”

  She ground her back teeth together. She’d thought that confession of his would give her some leverage, but he was right. It was his word against hers. She’d never mentioned the incident to any of her friends after Jimmy told her about it, not even after the divorce, because she’d imagined she owed Jimmy some loyalty considering she’d been the one who’d left the marriage. She should have taken out an ad in the Los Lobos Weekly Tribune listing all Jimmy Jr.’s transgressions.

  “Little Jim asked me again when you were coming home, Dori Mae.”

  “You know something, Jimmy? Last Sunday I thought I might be able to put up with you if that was my last resort for getting to be with Little Jim every day. But the way you’ve acted with Tanner, I know I couldn’t humiliate myself that much, even for Little Jim. Get this straight. I’m never coming back. Never.” She slammed down the phone—a small victory and cold comfort, considering that she wasn’t in a very wonderful position right now. But the gesture felt good, nonetheless.

  It was very late, and she’d been through a lot today, she thought, yawning. She made sure the house was secure, flipped out the lights in the kitchen and living room and went to check on Tanner. He slept, looking vulnerable with his splint on his nose and his taped chest visible where the sheet had pulled back. She placed a kiss on the tips of her fingers and touched his cheek lightly. He moaned and shifted to his side, but didn’t awaken.

  “Sleep well, my hero,” she whispered. “You’ve been wonderful, and far more than I deserve.”

  Then she went into Little Jim’s room. Her night things were back in her bedroom, so she decided to sleep in her panties and her white blouse rather than risk disturbing Tanner. Pulling back the spread, she slipped into his narrow twin bed, made even narrower by all the stuffed animals grouped on it.

  She lay in the darkness, expecting sleep. But only grief arrived. She’d tried so hard to remedy the mistake she’d made when she’d said “I do” to Jimmy Jr. Nothing seemed to be working, and she’d brought misery to a good man in the process of searching for a solution. She pulled Little Jim’s favorite bear close and its soft fur absorbed her tears.

  WHEN TANNER FIRST TRIED to open his eyes, he thought he must have the hangover of the decade. Then gradually he remembered the night before and the four weight lifters dressed like cowboys. He’d be willing to bet they’d been imported from Amarillo, or even as far away as El Paso. The cherry red truck was probably in some chopshop by now, being dismantled for parts so no evidence would remain.

  And he was in Dori’s bed, surrounded by a million pictures of her son. She’d left him sometime during the night, probably to snuggle in with Little Jim’s collection of furry friends. He raised himself up slowly, and discovered his head wasn’t spinning the way it had last night. Sure, he hurt, but at least he was awa
ke. Last night he’d been spaced out on the damn painkillers, and God knows what he’d said. Probably acted like a complete idiot.

  He pulled on his jeans, took the bottle of pills from the bedside table on his way to the bathroom and flushed them away. Enough of that nonsense. He took a quick look at himself in the mirror and almost wished he hadn’t. Now there was a face to inspire love in a fair damsel. Maybe if she was into the legend of Beauty and the Beast, he’d have a better than even chance.

  Debating the issue for only a moment, he used the spare toothbrush she’d put out for him and the razor she kept in the shower for her legs. A guy who looked like the Phantom of the Opera needed all the help he could get.

  The house was quiet as he walked barefoot down the hall. Sure enough, she was in Little Jim’s twin bed, at least four stuffed animals gathered into her arms as she slept. In his estimation she needed something more substantial to hold, something with a pulse. And this morning, thanks to the healing powers of sleep, he had one.

  Her kitchen was easy to figure out. She’d put things where he would have if he’d been deciding. That was probably a good sign, and he should remember to tell her about it later. Breakfast was the only meal of the day he normally fixed for himself, and he set about brewing coffee and pouring juice with a practiced hand. With each step he marveled that she had the exact supplies he would have required in his own place.

  Today he’d tell her about his high-rise luxury apartment unit in Dallas, his Jaguar in the apartment’s underground garage, his small cabin in the lake country and his yacht moored in Galveston Harbor. He’d explain how he’d caught the boom in the bedroom community of Bravo, east of Dallas, where homes sold for millions and builders with vision could name their price. He’d been that sort of builder.

  He soft-boiled a couple of eggs, toasted some whole-wheat bread and was ready to bring her breakfast on a tray. It seemed like the perfect gesture after she’d cared for him so capably the night before. Apparently, she’d driven the truck without a flicker of doubt, and brought him home with her rather than dump him at an impersonal motel. That was also a good sign. He’d build on that.

  A selection of trays sat on top of the refrigerator, and he found one in wicker that held everything he’d created. On an impulse, he went out the front door to pick a chrysanthemum for the tray. There in the driveway sat his electrician’s truck, the side spray-painted in white with the message Go Home, City Boy. Sweet. His electrician, Jay, would end up with a paint job on his truck as well as a tailgate and rear bumper replacement.

  If this was Jimmy Jr.’s next move, it lacked originality. Tanner could live with a little spray paint. He picked his chrysanthemum, a striking orange one, and stuck it in the bud vase he’d found in a cabinet over the stove. Closing the front door, he latched the dead bolt and picked up the tray, complete with flower. Time for his lady fair to awaken.

  He set the tray on the brightly painted child’s dresser against the wall near the bed. The tray shared the surface with the White Ranger. Then he crouched down so his face was even with Dori’s. For a moment he watched her sleep, her rosy lips slightly parted, her wondrous eyes shuttered, her luxuriant eyelashes resting against her cheeks. His heart contracted. This view could be his every morning. The possibility made his throat ache with longing.

  Leaning closer, he angled his mouth and brushed a kiss against her sleep-softened lips. He barely noticed the slight sting of discomfort from his split lip, because he was so entranced by her response. She turned her face upward, as if seeking the source of pleasure as she struggled toward wakefulness. Needing no more encouragement, he placed his mouth over hers again and stroked his tongue inside. Yes. He wanted this every morning.

  She wound her arms around his neck and drew him down. He pushed the stuffed animals out of the way, threw back the light cover and eased over her. He would have loved to have more room, but if she was inviting him to bed he wouldn’t be choosy about the details. As he settled against her breasts he winced at the pain from his taped ribs, but he was more impatient with the tape than the pain. It kept him from a total experience of skin touching skin.

  Because that would happen now. She would let him love her. She was too warm, too willing, for there to be any other outcome.

  As he continued to plunder her lips, he reached between them to pull the end of the tie that gathered her blouse into a modest scooped neck. Once the tie was released, the neckline became much less modest, giving him easy access to her breasts. Filling one hand with her bounty, he released her mouth and raised his head. He wanted to see her eyes.

  Slowly, they fluttered open. The passion filling their brown depths made his heart pound.

  “Good morning,” he murmured as he caressed her, his thumb brushing over her nipple. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”

  Her voice was husky from sleep and desire. “Is this it?”

  “Chefs special.”

  “I was going to ask you to leave town this morning.”

  “Oh?” He cupped her other breast and continued to build the heat in her gaze.

  She arched against his hand with a soft moan. “You’re not safe here.”

  He grazed her nipple with his thumb until it matched the pert attention of its mate. “And what made you think I’d agree to go?”

  “I was…” She paused, caught her lower lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. “Oh, Tanner,” she whispered. “That feels so good.”

  “Want me to leave town?”

  “No. Yes.” She opened her eyes again, rich laughter mixing with the desire in her glance. “But you’re ruining the line I’d planned to use.”

  “Which was?”

  “That I didn’t want you.”

  He smiled down at her. “I wouldn’t have believed you, anyway.” He released her breast and worked the blouse off her shoulders. “You may not like the way I spend money, but you’ve always been crazy about the way I kiss you.”

  Her voice was low and sexy. “Conceited man.”

  “Lucky man.” He kissed the pulse throbbing in her throat and breathed in the scent of wildflowers and arousal. “You’re going to let me make love to you this morning.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.” He lifted his head to look into her eyes.

  “No,” she murmured, a sensuous smile curving her mouth.

  “You’re kidding.” He ached all over from wanting her. A woman who could deny a man at this stage…

  “I’m not kidding. You’re not going to make love to me. You’re injured.”

  “I don’t give a good goddamn! I want—”

  “So I’ll make love to you.”

  He stared down at her.

  “In a bigger bed. So we have room to enjoy this. Come on, Tanner. Move it.”

  10

  TANNER HAD EXPECTED Dori to be alluring, voluptuous and deeply satisfying. He hadn’t expected her to be an artist. He’d known that her mouth tempted him beyond reason. He’d hadn’t known her mouth could carry him to levels of excitement he’d never experienced.

  He lay trembling beneath the sweet assault, which began with his lips. Her kiss was so openly provocative he could hardly believe this was the same Dori Mae who had primly tucked her shirt back in her jeans at the motel on Monday night. She used her tongue to outline his lips, to explore the roof of his mouth, to stroke the inside of his cheeks. Then she drew his tongue into her mouth and sucked gently, giving him his first preview of what she had in mind. Her kiss alone brought him to a fever pitch of need, but she’d only begun.

  She caught his earlobe between her teeth and raked gently. He’d never known he was so sensitive there, but that was nothing compared to the sensation she created by dipping her tongue into his ear. As she licked the curve of his jaw and the hollow of his throat, the warm, damp caress ignited nerve endings he hadn’t known existed.

  Then her sweet breath touched his shoulder, and she nibbled her way down his inner arm to the inside of his elbow. He’d been told women like
d to be kissed there. Now he knew why.

  Her journey continued to the palm of his hand, where she ran her tongue into the crevices between his fingers before taking each finger in turn into her mouth. He was a wild man, desperate for release yet never wanting the experience to end. She toyed with his nipples until he was panting, but she never put any weight on his taped ribs. When her tongue found his navel, he moaned in anticipation, but she had more sweet torture in mind before giving him her final gift.

  She treated his toes to the same attention she had his fingers, and gently bent his legs to kiss the backs of his knees. The warmth of her mouth on his inner thighs nearly destroyed him. She licked higher, and he held his breath. The woman had a real sense of drama.

  When she finally enclosed him with her clever mouth, he let out a shameless groan of pleasure. In moments, she had him deliriously close to losing control, which he’d promised himself not to do. He’d always prided himself on being able to hold a climax at bay, but this…Finally, in desperation, he asked her to stop.

  She did, moving upward to gaze into his eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

  “I loved every incredible moment. Too much. I’m not leaving you behind.”

  Her smile was the first shy thing he’d seen about her since they entered her bedroom. “I wouldn’t mind. You really are injured, and I—”

  “I would mind.” He reached up to cup her cheek. “This is about mutual pleasure, and I’m not so crippled that I can’t do my part.”

  Her expression was hopeful, but hesitant. “Tanner, I’m not very…I have trouble…”

  He almost swore, but he swallowed the first word that came to him. It didn’t belong in a room where such incredible lovemaking was going on. That ass Devaney had taught her how to please, but not how to be pleased. He pulled her down for a long, slow kiss. Then he rolled to his side, bringing her with him. The pain didn’t matter. She deserved this.

  “Leave everything to me,” he murmured, reaching behind him for the packet he’d tossed on the bedside table. He didn’t want to stop in the middle of loving her to put on a condom. A woman as nervous about her response as Dori could lose everything he’d worked to build in the seconds it took him to sheath himself.