Against the Odds Read online

  She let the beads slither onto Tucker’s chest in a cool pool of gold, then dragged them lightly over his nipples, then down lower.

  However, with Tucker…she imagined he had no trouble taking charge. And she already knew she’d allow him almost any liberty with her. In fact, she craved it. But given his surprised reaction, she didn’t imagine he found himself in this position very often. Which made her all the more determined to see that he stayed in it for as long as she could manage it. She wanted him delirious with pleasure. And this way they’d both get a brand-new experience.

  She slid the beads again from palm to palm as an idea took shape. A very specific shape. She had to smile.

  “Wicked woman,” he ground out.

  “I just realized that I didn’t need lessons on what to do…I just need the proper motivation.” She let the beads pool on his stomach, then dragged them lower. “And I’m quite motivated at the moment.”

  Tucker growled in appreciation.

  She draped the beads around what was, by now, an impressive erection. She circled the beads slowly, alternating watching how the gold glittered against his dark skin, and how darkly his eyes glittered as he watched her. She wasn’t sure which made her wetter.

  When she’d coiled the entire length around him, she wrapped her hand around the beads to keep them in place, then slowly, gently, ran her hand up and down along the beads, moving them in a rippling motion over his tight velvet skin.

  “Jesus,” he panted, but he left her to do what she wished, clenching his hands into fists by his head.

  She was clenching tightly, too. She desperately wanted to feel him inside her, feel that velvety steel strength surging and—

  She was panting now, too. Bending over, she began unwrapping the beads, replacing them with her lips as she continued to unravel him…in more ways than one.

  “I want…inside you,” he managed. “Now.”

  With a savoring last little lick, she released him and sat back, amazed at how wonderfully sure of herself she felt, all powerful and incredibly wanton. She felt wickedly free when she unbuttoned the front of her loose cotton sundress, spilled out of her pale rose silk bra as she opened the front clasp. She let the bra slip through her fingers, let the sundress slide down her arms and off, then slid the strand of beads over her head. Slowly, she rolled them over her own nipples with her palms. It was when she tipped her head back and moaned at her own ministrations that Tucker’s control snapped.

  He gripped her hips, shoved her dress up, groaned when he discovered she wore nothing beneath. He all but plunged her down on top of him and they both moaned as he filled her in one hard thrust.

  She was more than ready for him. Dear God, but no one could fill her the way he did. She fell forward, bracing her palms on his chest, only to have them yanked free as he tugged her the rest of the way down and took her mouth as fiercely as he was taking her body.

  He held her head, plundered her mouth, wrapped his free arm around her waist, holding her where he wanted her, taking her, even from beneath, in powerful strokes.

  It didn’t take long before they were both careening out of control. She came first, with a shriek of delight that surely was heard by passing motorists. At that moment she could have been naked in the middle of downtown Vegas and she wouldn’t have cared. Tucker climaxed right on the edge of hers, seemingly driven over the edge by her continued, shuddering demands of, “More! Yes, God yes!”

  And when it was over, she lay completely and blessedly spent on top of him. Just how did a person recover, she wondered, and put their clothes back on and finish the ride with some modicum of dignity, pretending they hadn’t been screwing their brains out. Only it wasn’t like that, would never be with him, something she knew even before he proved it so.

  He tipped her head to his, dropped an exquisitely perfect kiss on the tip of her nose, and said, “I definitely have to look into getting my own limo.”

  She propped her chin on his chest. “I believe I could become addicted to that particular form of pampering.”

  He searched her face. “I believe I could become addicted, too,” he said quietly, then pulled her mouth to his and kissed her in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with that next step she’d been so worried about.

  When she finally lifted her head, she knew she had a choice to make. Say something, take a chance that she was right about what he was feeling and tell him she was feeling the same way…or make a glib comment and keep them on their predetermined playpals fun track.

  It was a palpable moment, one that felt as if it stretched on for days instead of seconds. Her heart pounded with the risk of it, the fear of changing things irrevocably. For the better or the worse. Things were pretty damn near perfect right now, so why say anything? Why this need to rush things along?

  Three days, that’s why. At some point, if she wanted more, she was going to have to say so. And waiting until she was boarding her plane didn’t seem like a good idea.

  “Wheels are turning,” he murmured, stroking her face, then tapping lightly at her temple. “I assume you’re not plotting your next book…so what are you plotting?”

  The rest of my life?

  She started to sit up, reach for her bra, thinking this wasn’t a step she should take half-naked, but Tucker pulled her back down, nestling her easily along his body. She didn’t fight him. It was, after all, exactly where she wanted to be. She laughed.

  “What?”

  “It’s amazing, but I’m quite comfortable, sprawled atop you as we whisk about town.”

  “I’d like to think we’d always be comfortable wherever we are, just because we’re together.” He grinned then, as if to take the edge off his sudden sentimental bent, but the sincerity was there in his eyes.

  So, instead of emotional proclamations, she simply said, “I’d like to think so, too.” And when he kissed her, then tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled as if looking at her was all he needed to make him happy, she relaxed, knowing she’d handled it the right way. Apparently their relationship was going to progress whether they announced their feelings or not.

  And even if she had no idea how to go about falling in love, she knew, somehow, he’d be there to help her figure that out, too.

  She rested her cheek on his chest, settling her weight along his side and against the back of the seat while tracing lazy patterns on his chest and abdomen. “Why a fire investigator?” she asked at length.

  “Hmm?” he responded drowsily.

  She glanced up and found him, eyes shut, drifting peacefully, holding her close.

  She could let him drift, but she wanted to know more about this man who was stealing her heart. Or maybe he was rescuing it. It was, after all, what he was good at.

  “Your line of work,” she reiterated, speaking softly, but determinedly. “How did you get into it? And how did that lead to the forensics you’re doing here?”

  He lifted his head, met her gaze with a questioning one, but when she simply smiled at him encouragingly, he let his head drop back to the seat and began to trace his own patterns along her spine as he spoke. “My father.”

  “He was a fireman?”

  “No. He ran a grocery store. But he was a strong believer in giving back to the community. He’d been raised mostly on the reservation by his grandmother, had a strong sense of giving, forming bonds, helping. He was always helping those in need.” He sighed, but it was a sound steeped in pleasant memories and Misty smiled, envying him. “I volunteered with the local rescue squad when I was in high school,” he went on. “Because it was a way to help out.” She felt his grin, heard it in his tone. “And a way to meet girls.”

  “Fancy that.”

  He shrugged, stroked her shoulder. “I believed in giving back to the community, too.”

  She looked up then. “Oh, I just bet you did.”

  The gleam in his eye was wicked. “We all do what we can.”

  Holding his gaze, she dipped her head sl
ightly and swiped the tip of her tongue along his nipple. The flare in those eyes made her smile. “Why yes, I can understand that.”

  “I see you do.”

  She ducked her head, laid her cheek back on his chest before he could draw her back into the carnality that seemed to hover about them all the time. “So, when did the volunteering become a career?”

  “The first time I rescued someone.” There was a moment, a slight pause, and she felt his heartbeat speed up. “She was in her eighties and didn’t want to leave her smoke-filled apartment without her cat. He was her only family.”

  Misty didn’t say anything, just gently stroked his skin, letting the reality of what he’d chosen to do with his life sink in. It made her choices, her worries, seem so frivolous.

  “I got her out. Then went back in for that damn cat.”

  Her throat tightened and she pressed a kiss over his heart. “You shouldn’t have.” She looked up at him. “But I bet you saved him, too.”

  He looked at her, a thousand memories in those dark eyes of his, and she was certain not all of them had a happy ending. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

  She pressed a kiss to his lips. A kiss of promise, a promise that while he was always there to help others, she’d be there for him. It was a promise she had no idea if he’d let her keep, but she made it nonetheless.

  He kissed her back, and it deepened, into something of a promise for them both.

  When she lifted her head, looked into his eyes, it was right there on the tip of her tongue, to tell him she was falling. But she ducked her head, let the moment pass. “When did you begin investigating fires?”

  His hold on her tightened. “Arsonist. Set a store on fire down the street from my dad’s store. Killed a good friend of his. And we all knew who did it, but we couldn’t prove it. So I started digging. Pushing. Learning. We didn’t get him. He took off.”

  “But you’ve gotten many like him.”

  “Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and sighed. “Yeah.”

  There was a palpable pause then, so she lifted her head. “What’s wrong?”

  He looked directly at her. “I’m thinking of relocating.”

  It should have surprised her, but it didn’t. “Here?”

  He nodded. “As a member of their forensic investigation team. I’d need some additional training, but Mig is looking into that for me. Fire marshals, at least in my county, have to complete the police academy just like any other law enforcement officer, so I’m not that far behind.” A wry smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “Sheriff Jackson back home is going to love this.”

  “What about you?” She sensed both his excitement at the opportunity…and his ambivalence.

  “Dylan has been pushing me in this direction almost from the moment he left the force here.” At her look, he said, “We grew up together. I was the gridiron hero, he was the town bad boy. We’ve had what you might call a friendly rivalry ever since. He left for the Vegas police force the day he was of age, but came back a few years ago.” He toyed with her hair. “I guess it was the right thing for him. He likes his job, even got married a little while ago. Bad boy settles down and all that.” He laughed. “Although with a wife like Liza, I’m not sure ‘settled’ is the right term.” His grin faded to a wistful smile.

  “And here you thought you’d be the one to settle down, be the town leader, is that it?”

  He glanced up into her eyes, smiled. “Think you’re pretty clever, do you?”

  “We writers are an observant lot.”

  He tugged on a strand of hair. “I’m getting that. And you’d be right, in this case. Home, community, they’ve always meant a lot to me. It’s not that I haven’t thought about leaving, I have.”

  She heard the “often” without him having to say it. “So why haven’t you?”

  “I guess I always saw myself having what my parents had. Raising a family, working as a team, with each other, with the community. Canyon Springs is perfect for that.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t do that somewhere else. I’m sure a lot of the guys on the force here have families.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I guess I just pictured what I pictured, you know? Hard to realign that image.”

  “Will your parents be upset with you leaving?”

  He shook his head. “They’re both gone now.”

  “So why now? Did Mig persuade you?”

  “Oh, they haven’t been shy about nudging me and I know they’ll do everything they can to help me make the transition. And I appreciate that.” He looked at her. “Since coming here, things have happened that I didn’t count on. I guess I realized that not everything happens the way you plan, and maybe instead of clinging stubbornly to what I thought I had to have, the way I thought I had to have it, I should look at what I really want and go after it. Maybe the rest will follow, I don’t know. But I have to try. Waiting around for it isn’t working.” He continued to look at her, and she swore he was going to say something else, but in the end he just grinned and tucked her back against his chest. “So, your turn. Why did you become a writer?”

  She had a hundred other questions, not the least of which was finding out if a new job was all he wanted, but fair was fair. She laughed dryly. “For the exact opposite reason you became a firefighter. You wanted to belong, I wanted to escape.”

  “Your family isn’t proud of their accomplished daughter?”

  “In their own way, perhaps. Their friends all know what I do for a living, but it’s certainly not something one discusses in public, if you know what I mean.” She knew her accent was sharpening, refining to a cutting edge. She worked to soften it. Tucker already understood her far too well and she didn’t want any tension marring what had, so far, been a lovely interlude. “You see, whereas you were raised to bond and commune with your fellow neighbors, I was raised to be a credit to my family by being well educated, well mannered and well married. In that way I would bring honor and prestige to the Smythe-Davies heritage, and perhaps added wealth if I was savvy enough to bag a rich one. I was certainly never to consider doing anything that would bring shame or notoriety.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Oh, the horror of it all.”

  “Ah.”

  She giggled at the wealth of emotion he’d put in that one syllable. “Exactly.”

  “When did you come to America?”

  “I’d just graduated university with a degree in art history and my family was well into planning my wedding.”

  “Being a good girl to the bitter end and all that rot?”

  She lifted her head. “Quite. And your accent hasn’t improved one whit.”

  He grinned unabashedly. “So, who was the fortunate young man?”

  She frowned, then sighed a bit sadly.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun.”

  “No, it’s not that. I have no regrets. It was no love match, we were all but betrothed before I was wearing my first bra.” Her lips twisted into a dry smile. “Which was shortly before he asked to borrow it.”

  Tucker sputtered and tried not to laugh.

  She lifted her head. “No, go ahead, it’s quite alright and every bit that ridiculous.”

  “Did they know? Your family?”

  “Oh yes, everyone knew. James didn’t work overly hard at concealing his sexual orientation. But you see, that wasn’t the point. Joining our family pedigree to his, looking good for society, that was important. Everyone knew, without ever speaking of it, of course, just as they assumed we’d have an understanding, as it were. We’d be quite free to lead our own lives, seek our own pleasures, as long as we put on the proper face. And joined the family accounts. They see nothing hypocritical about this. That’s the part that amazed me.”

  “It’s not amazing, it’s awful.”

  Now it was her turn to sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing. James was quite willing to see it through, however, as it kept him in his inheritance. And in my narrow little worldview, I co
uldn’t see any other way, so I agreed. And I honestly thought I could go through with it, stuff away my dreams and become what I’d been raised to be.”

  “So, why didn’t you?”

  She propped her chin on her hands and stared ahead, unseeing. “It was our wedding day.” She glanced at him. “Apparently my inner hoyden wasn’t sufficiently suffocated at Miss Pottingham’s after all.”

  “You left him at the altar?”

  She nodded. “I am that awful and that clichéd. I don’t know which is worse.”

  Tucker laughed. “I don’t know, better to duck out five minutes before saying ‘I do’ than five minutes after.”

  “Perhaps. But it took standing there, seeing all those faces, all the fake well-wishes and pretended nuptial bliss. I simply couldn’t go through with the charade. I left the chapel, snatched what I could from my trousseau— Yes,” she broke in sardonically, “we are still that Victorian—and my passport and hopped a cab to Heathrow. I looked at the outbound flights and saw one for New York City. I thought that sounded like a place where I could simply lose myself, figure out what I wanted. And if I didn’t like it, I’d find a place I did.”

  “I can see where your heroine’s get their grit.”

  She smiled at that. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.” She laughed. “But I felt more coward than heroine that day, I tell you. I was running.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not so bad when you’re running toward what you want, is it?”

  She looked at him. “You know, I never thought of it that way.”

  He pulled her close then, so he could drop a lingering kiss on her lips. “So,” he murmured, keeping her mouth close to his. “Did you get the flat in SoHo, become a starving artist?”

  She did laugh then. “Oh, nothing so noble as that. I landed a job in an art gallery, imagined myself falling in love with a starving artist, toiling away at making him a star by day while he gave me multiple orgasms in his loft every night.”

  “I take it things didn’t go as planned?”

  “Um, no. To put it mildly. Pretentious pricks, most of them,” she announced, making him laugh. She shrugged. “The ones I dealt with anyway. Self-absorbed and generally having no idea that life exists beyond their own little existential plane.”