Reluctant Father Read online

"Good night, Merry. Will you come back to see me again?"

  "When I can, darling," she replied absently, without noticing the reaction that endearment had on Blake. "Sleep tight."

  "Go to sleep now, young lady," Blake told his daughter.

  "But, Daddy, what about the monsters?" Sarah wailed when he started to turn out the light at the door.

  He stopped and looked uncomfortable. He wasn't about to start chasing monsters from under the bed and dragging them out of the closet in front of Meredith. Sarah loved the pretend housecleaning and he'd grown used to doing it to amuse her, but a man had to have his secrets. He cleared his throat. "When I walk Meredith to her car, okay?"

  That pacified Sarah. She smiled. "Okay, Daddy." She looked at Meredith. "He kills the monsters every night so they won't hurt me. He's very brave and he weighs one million pounds!"

  Meredith glanced at Blake and her face went red as she tried to smother laughter. He glared at her, breaking the spell. She rushed out into the hall and kept going.

  He caught up with her downstairs and walked her out onto the porch.

  "I'm sorry Amie involved you," he said curtly. "Bess would have kept Sarah."

  "Bess and Bobby were going out," she replied. "I didn't mind."

  "You didn't want to come here, though, even while I was away," he said perceptively. "You don't care for this house very much, do you?"

  "Not anymore," she said. "It brings back some painful memories." She moved away from him, but he followed.

  "Where's your car?" he asked, searching for it.

  "I walked. It was a beautiful night and it's only a short walk."

  He glared down at her from his superior height. In his gray suit and pearl-colored Stetson, he looked enormously tall and imposing. He never seemed to smile, she thought, searching his hard features in the light that shone from the windows onto the big, long porch.

  "If you're looking for beauty, you won't find it," he said, his mouth twisting into a mocking smile. "The scar only makes it worse."

  She gazed at it, the long white line that marred his lean cheek all the way from his high cheekbone to his jaw. "I remember when you got it," she said quietly. "And how."

  His expression became grim. "I don't want to talk about it."

  "I know." She sighed gently, her eyes searching over his dark face with more poignancy than she knew. "But you were always handsome to me, scar and all," she mused, turning away as the memories came flooding back. "Good night… Blake!"

  He'd whipped her around, his lean hands biting into her arms. She was wearing a sleeveless lemon yellow blouse with her jeans, and it made her skin look darker than it was. Where his fingers held her, the flesh went white from the pressure.

  "I…" He eased his hold a little, although he didn't release her. "I didn't mean to do that." He drew in a silent breath. "I don't suppose you'll ever get over the fear I caused you in the past, will you?" he added, watching her eyes widen, her body stiffen.

  "It was my first intimacy," she whispered, flushing. "And you made it… you were very rough."

  "I remember," he replied. His pride fought him when he tried to tell her the truth, although he wanted to. He wanted to make her understand his roughness.

  "As you said, it was a long time ago," she added, pulling against his hold gently.

  "Not that long. Five years." He searched her eyes. "Meredith, surely you've dated men. There must have been one or two who could stir you."

  "I couldn't trust them," she said bitterly. "I was afraid to take a chance with anyone else."

  "Most men aren't as rough as I am," he replied coldly.

  Her breath was sighing out like a whisper. He made her nervous, and the feel of his hands was affecting her breathing. "Most men aren't as much a man as you are," she breathed, closing her eyes as forgotten sensations worked down her spine and made her ache.

  His pride burned with what she'd said. Did she think him masculine, handsome? Or was that all in the past, part of the love he'd killed?

  He drew her closer and held her against him warmly but chastely, her legs apart from his. He didn't want her to feel how aroused he already was.

  "I'm not much gentler now than I used to be, Meredith," he said deeply, as his head bent toward her. "But I'll try not to frighten you this time…"

  She opened her mouth to protest, but his lips met hers. They probed her soft mouth while his lean, strong hands slid up to frame her face.

  She stiffened, but only for a minute. The taste of him made her dizzy with pleasure. She liked what he was doing to her too much to protest. After a minute she relaxed, letting his mouth do what it wanted to hers.

  "God, it's sweet," he whispered roughly, biting at her lips with more instinct than expertise. His voice was shaking and he didn't care if she heard it. "Oh, God, it's so sweet!"

  His mouth ground into hers and his arms slid completely around her. He pulled her body up against his so that his legs touched hers, and he felt her sudden shocked tautness.

  He let her move away, his eyes glittering, his breath rustling out of his throat. "I shouldn't have done that," he said gruffly. "I didn't mean to let you feel how aroused I was."

  Having him mention it shocked her more than the feel of his body, but she tried not to let him see her reaction. She stepped back, touching her mouth with light fingers. Yes, it had been sweet, as she'd heard him whisper feverishly. Just as it had been five years ago in the stable, when he'd put his mouth on hers and she'd ached to have him touch her.

  "I have to get back to Bess's house," she said unsteadily.

  "Just a minute." He took her hand and pulled her farther into the light. He held her gaze so that he could see the fear mingled with desire that lingered in her eyes, the swollen softness of her mouth.

  "What are you looking for?" she asked huskily.

  "You're still afraid of me," he said, his jaw going taut.

  "I'm sorry." She lowered her eyes to his chest, to its quick, hard rise and fall. "I can't help it."

  "Neither can I," he replied bitterly. He let her go, turning away. "I'm not much good at lovemaking, if you want the truth," he said through his teeth.

  That was true. He had the patience, but not the knowledge. Nina had taught him a few things, but she'd been indifferent to his touch and her response to him had always been just lukewarm. She hadn't known he was innocent, but she had known he was inexperienced, and at the end of their relationship she'd taunted him with his lack of expertise. It was one of the things he hated remembering. Better to let Meredith think he was brutal than to have her know how green he was. Watching him, Meredith was surprised by the admission. She'd always considered him experienced. If he wasn't, it would explain so much.

  Suddenly, she understood his fierce pride a little better. She went closer to him, reaching out to lightly touch his sleeve. He jerked a little, as if that impersonal contact went through him like fire.

  "It's all right, Blake," she said hesitantly.

  He looked down at the slender hand that rested lightly on his sleeve. "I'm like a bull in a china shop," he said unexpectedly, looking into her eyes. "With women."

  She felt a surge of emotion at that rough admission. He'd never been more approachable than he was right now. Part of her was wary of him, but another part wanted once, just once, to give in without a fight.

  She went up on her tiptoes and pulled his head down to hers. He stiffened and she stopped dead.

  "No!" he whispered huskily when she started to draw back in embarrassment. "Go ahead. Do what you want to."

  She couldn't believe that he really wanted her to kiss him, but he was giving every indication that he did. She didn't know a lot about it, either, since all she'd ever done with men was kissing.

  She drew her lips lightly over Blake's hard ones, teasing them gently. Her breath shook at his mouth while she held his head within reach, but she didn't relent. Her fingers slid into the thick, cool hair at the nape of his strong neck and her nails slid against his skin wh
ile her mouth toyed softly with his.

  "I can't take much of that," he whispered roughly. His hands held her hips now, an intimacy that she should have protested, but she was too weak. "Do it properly."

  "Not yet," she whispered. Her teeth closed softly on his lower lip, tugging at it sensuously. She felt him tremble as her tongue traced his upper lip.

  "Meredith," he bit off, and his hands hurt her for an instant.

  "All right." She knew what he wanted, what he needed. She opened her mouth on his and slid her tongue inside it, and the reaction she got from him was electrifying.

  He cried out. His arms swallowed her, bruising her against his hard chest. He was trembling. Meredith felt the soft tremors with exquisite awareness, with pride that she could arouse him that easily after a beauty like Nina.

  "Blake," she whispered under his mouth, and closed her eyes as she gave him the weight of her body, the warmth of her mouth.

  She felt him move. Her back was suddenly against the wall and he was easing down over her body.

  Her eyes flew open and his head lifted fractionally, and all the while his body overwhelmed hers, his hips lying heavy and hard against hers, pressing against her.

  She could feel the full strength of his arousal now, and it should have frightened her, but it didn't. He was slow and gentle, not impatient at all as his hands slid to her hips, holding her.

  "This should really frighten the hell out of you, shouldn't it?" he asked huskily, searching her eyes. "You can feel what I want, and I'm not quite in control right now."

  "You aren't hurting me," she whispered. "And I started it this time."

  "So you did." He moved down, letting his mouth repeat the soft, arousing movements hers had made earlier. "Like that, Meredith?" he whispered at her lips. "Is that how you like it?"

  "Yes," she whispered back, excitement making her voice husky. Her hands were against his shirt and she could feel the heat from his body under the fabric.

  "I want to open my shirt and let you touch me," he whispered roughly. "But that might be the straw that breaks the camel's back, and there's a long, comfortable sofa just a few feet inside the door."

  The thought was more than tempting. She could already feel his skin against hers, his body overwhelming hers. She wanted him, and there wasn't really any reason to say no. Except that her pride couldn't take the knowledge that he wanted only her body and nothing else about her.

  "I can't sleep with you," she said miserably. She let her head rest against him, drowning in the feel of his body over hers. "Blake, you have to stop," she groaned. "I'm going crazy…!"

  "So am I." He pushed himself away from her, breathing roughly. His darkened green eyes looked down into hers. "You wanted me," he said, as if he were only just realizing it.

  She flushed and looked up at his hard face. "I don't understand what you want from me."

  "Sarah needs a woman's companionship," he said tersely.

  "That isn't why you made love to me," she returned, searching his eyes.

  He sighed deeply. "No, it isn't." He walked to the edge of the porch and leaned against one of the white columns, looking out over the wide expanse of flat land. The only trees were right around the house, where they'd been planted. Beyond was open land, dotted with a few willows at the creek and a few straggly bushes, but mostly flat and barren all the way to the horizon.

  "Why, Blake?" she asked. She had to know what he was after.

  "Do you know what an obsession is, Meredith?" he asked a minute later.

  "Yes, I think so."

  "Well, that's what I feel for you." He shifted so that he could see her. "Obsessed," he repeated, letting his green eyes slide over her sensually. "I don't know why. You aren't beautiful. You aren't even voluptuous. But you arouse me as no other woman ever has or ever will. I couldn't even feel for Nina what I feel for you." He laughed coldly. "After she left me, there wasn't anyone else. I couldn't. I don't want anyone but you."

  She didn't know if she was still breathing. The admission knocked the wind out of her, took the strength from her legs. She looked at him helplessly.

  "You haven't… seen me in five years," she said, trying to rationalize.

  "I've seen you every night," he ground out. "Every time I closed my eyes. My God, don't you remember what I did to you that day in the stable? I stripped you." He closed his eyes, oblivious to her scarlet face and trembling body. "I looked at you and touched you and put my mouth on you." He bit back a curse and opened his eyes again, tormented. "I see you in my bed every damned night of my life," he breathed. "I want you to the point of madness."

  She caught the railing and held on tight. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It wasn't possible for a man to feel that kind of desire, she told herself. Not when he didn't feel anything emotional for the woman. But Blake was different. As Elissa said, he'd never been loved, so he didn't know what it was. But all men felt desire. A man didn't have to love to want.

  "Don't worry—" he laughed mockingly "—I'm not going to force you into anything. I just wanted you to know how I felt. If that sensuous little kiss was some sort of game, you'd better know how dangerous it is. I'm not sane when I touch you. I wouldn't hurt you deliberately for the world, but I want you like hell."

  Her swollen lips parted. "I wasn't playing," she said with quiet pride. "It was no game. You…" She hesitated. "You seemed so disturbed because you'd been rough. I wanted to show you that you hadn't made me afraid."

  He Watched her unblinkingly. "You weren't, were you?" he said then, scowling. "Not even when I brought you close and let you feel what you were doing to me."

  She shifted. "You shouldn't have," she murmured evasively.

  "Why hide it?" he asked. He moved toward her, encouraged by her response and her lack of bitterness. He was taking a hell of a chance by being honest with her, but it might be his only way of reaching her. "You might as well know it all."

  She lifted her face as he stood over her. "Know what?"

  "Nina was my first woman," he said bluntly. "And the only woman."

  She wanted to sit down, but there was no chair. She leaned against the banister, her eyes searching his hard face. He wasn't kidding. He meant it.

  "That's right," he said, nodding when he saw the memories replaying in her eyes. "The day we were in the stable together, I was as inexperienced as you were. That's why I was rough. It wasn't deliberate. I didn't know how to make love."

  Her lips opened on a slow breath. "No wonder…" she whispered.

  "Yes, no wonder." He brushed a strand of loosened hair from her pale cheek. "Why don't you laugh? Nina did."

  She could feel the hurt under that mocking statement. What it must have done to his pride! "Nina was a—" She bit back the word.

  He laughed coldly. "She certainly was," he agreed. "She taunted me with it toward the end," he added, his eyes bitter and cynical. "I didn't want to risk that kind of ridicule again, so there weren't any more women."

  "Oh, Blake," she whispered, closing her eyes on a wave of pain. "Blake, I'm so sorry!"

  "I don't want pity. I wanted you to know the truth. If you're ever tempted to give in to me, you're entitled to know what you'd be up against. My God," he said heavily, moving away, "I don't even know the basics. Books and movies don't make up for experience. And Nina wasn't interested in tutoring me."

  "I wish I'd known," she said huskily. "I wish I'd known five years ago."

  He looked back at her, his thick eyebrows raised. "Why?"

  "I wouldn't have fought you," she said simply. "I thought you were terribly experienced." She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry. I guess I hurt your ego as much as you frightened me."

  He studied her in a tense silence. "You don't have a thing to apologize for. I'm the one who's sorry." He waited until she lifted her head, and he caught her eyes and held them. "You haven't wanted anyone, in all this time?"

  "I wanted you," she said frankly. "I…couldn't feel that for anyone else. I'd rather have been frighte
ned by you than pleasured by the greatest lover living." She laughed coldly. "So I guess I'm in the same boat that you are." She clutched her purse. "I really do have to go," she said after a long, quiet moment during which he stared at her without saying anything at all.

  He escorted her down the porch steps. "All right. I'll walk you to the woods and watch you through them. Sarah Jane will be all right until I get back, and the house is in full view the whole way."

  "Sarah is very much like you," she said.

  "Too much like me," he replied. His fingers brushed hers as they walked, accidentally or deliberately she didn't know, making her all too aware of him. "She almost got trampled the other day, climbing into the corral to retrieve a handkerchief."

  "She told me. I suppose you were livid."

  "Mild word," he said. "I blew up. Scared her. I found her hiding in the closet, and I felt like a dog. I went to town the next day and bought her half a toy store to make up for yelling at her." He sighed. "She scared me blind. I kept thinking what could have happened if my reflexes had been just a bit slower."

  "But they weren't." She smiled. "You were always quick in an emergency."

  He looked down at her and his fingers lazily entangled themselves in hers. "Luckily for you," he murmured darkly, watching her flush. "I haven't had an easy life," he said then. "I had to be tough to survive. They weren't good days before I came here to live with my uncle. I got in a lot of fights because of my illegitimacy."

  "I never heard you talk about that," she said.

  "I never could." His fingers tightened in hers as they got to the small wooded area and stopped. "I can't talk about a lot of things, Meredith. Maybe that's why I'm so damned alone."

  She glanced toward Bess's house. Bess and Bobby must have come home, because their car was in the driveway next to hers. She hesitated, not eager to leave Blake in this oddly talkative mood. "You've got Sarah now," she reminded him gently.

  "Sarah is getting to me," he confessed ruefully. "God, I don't know what I'd do if I could sit down in a chair without crushing a stuffed toy, or go to bed without running monsters out of closets." He smiled mockingly. "It cut me to pieces when she started crying after I raged at her about getting in with the horse."