The Wedding In White Page 6

  "That's what I thought," he said quietly, and he shifted her again, just enough to give him room to pull the blouse and bra up, baring her breasts to his intent scrutiny.

  Natalie couldn't get enough breath to make a token protest. She loved letting him look at her. She loved the slow, gentle tracing of his fingertips on her delicate skin. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she were a work of art. It wasn't possible to be ashamed.

  "Nothing to say?" he teased softly.

  "Nothing at all," she whispered, her breath jerking with the little bites of pleasure he gave her with his tender exploration of her breasts.

  His thumb moved roughly over her nipple, and she bit her lower lip as pure delight arched her against him.

  "I've never felt with anyone the things I feel with you," he breathed as his head lowered. "Some nights, I think I'll go stark raving mad from just the dreams."

  She barely heard him. His mouth suddenly covered her breast, and he suckled her, hard.

  The cry she made was audible. She trembled as he fed on her soft, smooth skin. It was cool in the cab of the truck, but she was burning all over. Her arms looped around his neck, and she hid her hot face in his neck as the pressure of his mouth increased until it almost made her weep with pleasure.

  She pulled at his head, trying to get his mouth even closer, but he pulled back, his eye stormy as it met hers.

  "Don't," he said gently. "You'll make me hurt you."

  "It won't hurt me." She shivered. Her eyes were as turbulent as the emotions that were overwhelming her. "Don't stop," she whispered unsteadily.

  His fingers traced the curve of her breast, and he looked down to watch her body lift up against them.

  "Your skin is like silk," he said huskily. "I can't get enough of it." He bent again, his hard mouth smoothing over her in a caress that made her moan.

  She arched up, totally without inhibitions, loving his warm lips on her body.

  The sound of a car in the distance brought his head up reluctantly. He glanced at the highway, grimaced and helped her sit. "I thought we were alone on the planet," he murmured with a forced laugh. "I suppose it was wishful thinking. Need any help?" he asked as she fumbled behind her for catches.

  "I can do it." She glanced at the car as it whizzed past. So much for isolation, she thought, and flushed when she realized how embarrassed she would have been if the car had pulled in behind them and stopped instead of going on its way.

  He watched her loop her seat belt across her chest and fasten it. He did the same with his before he cranked the truck.

  "A woman like you could make a man conceited," he said with a tender smile.

  "It isn't my fault that I can't resist you," she pointed out "And if you'd stop undressing me—"

  "I can't do that," he interrupted. "I'd have nothing left to live for." He backed up until he could pull onto the highway. "Besides," he added with a grin, "how would you ever get any practical experience?"

  "I think I may be getting too much," she replied. Her eyes slipped over him possessively, but she looked away before he noticed.

  "Don't worry," he said. "I won't push you into doing something you don't really want."

  "Do you think you could?"

  "I know I could," he replied quietly. "But you'd hate me for it. Maybe I'd hate myself. Whatever happens, it has to be honest and aboveboard. No sneak attacks or seduction."

  "I won't sleep with you," she said defensively.

  "You would, but I'm not going to let it go that far between us. I've got as much responsibility as I can handle already." His face seemed to harden before her eyes. "The boys can take care of themselves, but Viv can't. She seems to get less mature by the day." He glanced at her. "And she's poisonously angry at you right now."

  "Because Whit paid me too much attention, I gather," she said miserably.

  "Exactly."

  "But that wasn't my fault," she muttered.

  "I know that. Vivian won't believe it. Have you forgotten how she was just after Carl was killed?" he added. "She never considered you his girlfriend. She swore he only dated you to get near her. I love my sister, but she has enough conceit for two women."

  "Vivian is really beautiful," she pointed out. "I'm not."

  He looked at her and smiled slowly. "You're worth any ten beauty queens, Nat," he said in a tone that was like being stroked with a velvet glove. "You have a big heart and you're kind. Too kind, sometimes. You can't refuse people, and they take advantage of you."

  "Yes, I noticed," she said pointedly. "Just because I let you kiss me—"

  "Stop while you're ahead," he cautioned with a bland look. "That was as mutual a passion as any two people ever shared. You love having my mouth on your body. You can't even hide it."

  She crossed her legs and glared out the window with her arms folded. "I don't know beans about men, so I'm a push-over."

  "Really? Then why won't you let the fellow teacher touch you?"

  She gave him a hard glare, which he ignored. "You came along when I was at an impressionable age," she reminded him. "Remember what I said about baby ducks and imprinting?"

  "You're no baby duck."

  "I'm imprinted, just the same," she said angrily. "Seventeen years old, and spoiled for other men in the course of a night. You should never have come near me while I was in such a vulnerable state!"

  "I couldn't leave you by yourself to grieve," he pointed out. "And you may have been vulnerable, but you didn't protest very much."

  "You didn't leave me enough breath to protest with," she reminded him. "I may have been stupid about men, but you were no novice! I was outflanked and outgunned!"

  "I'm sorry about Carl, but you were no match for him. He liked a more flighty sort of girl altogether, and he had no plans to marry until he finished college. You'd have broken your heart over him."

  "It was my heart to break."

  He stopped at a traffic light and turned to meet her angry eyes. "For an intelligent woman, you are unbelievably naive. Did you really think he took you out because he was in love with you?"

  "He was," she said. "He told me he was!"

  "He told his friends that he dated you because his brother bet him he couldn't get you to go out with him. There was more to it than that," he added somberly, "but I'll spare you the rest."

  "How do you know what he was planning?" she demanded, outraged.

  "His younger brother and Bob were good friends," he reminded her. "When Bob got wind of it, he came to me. That's why I had words with Carl and his parents before he tried anything with you."

  She was devastated. She'd mourned Carl for months when she was seventeen, and now it turned out that he'd only dated her on a dare. He hadn't loved her. He'd been playing a game. She leaned her head against her window and bit back tears. She was a bigger fool than she'd realized. Why hadn't she guessed? And why hadn't Mack told her years ago?

  Chapter 5

  Mack saw the glitter of tears in her eyes and he grimaced. "I'm sorry," he said tersely. "I should never have told you."

  She pushed back a wisp of hair and dug in her purse for a tissue so she could wipe her eyes. "You should have told me years ago," she corrected. "What an idiot I was!"

  "You were naive," he said gently. "You saw what you wanted to see."

  His face was grim, and she realized belatedly that he was angry. She wondered what else Carl had said to his brother, but she was leery of asking.

  He glanced at her and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "You were seventeen and bent on putting him on a pedestal for life. It would have been a waste."

  That note in his voice was almost defensive. She turned in the seat and looked at him openly. She was seeing things she didn't want to see. "What you did...that night," she faltered. "It was deliberate."

  "It was," he confessed quietly. "I wanted to give you something to think about, at least something to compare with what you'd already experienced." His jaw tensed. "I didn't realize how innocent you were
until it was too late."

  "Too late?"

  He slowed for a turn and he looked so formidable that she didn't say another word. A tense silence lay between them for several long seconds.

  "Maybe it really was like imprinting," he said heavily. "I should never have touched you. You were far too young for what happened."

  She felt her face coloring. The hungry passion they'd shared today and the night at his house was almost as explosive as what they'd shared all those years ago. Even in memory, her body burned as she relived her first experience of Mack.

  "Do you think I blame you?" she asked finally, but she didn't look at him.

  "I blame myself. You've lived like a recluse ever since."

  She leaned her face against the glass of the window and smiled. "You were a pretty hard act to follow," she said huskily.

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "So were you." He sounded as if the words were dragged out of him, and she turned her head to encounter a stare that stopped her heart.

  It was as if she could see right into his mind, and she ached at the images that flashed at her, memories they shared.

  "I didn't really expect that you'd be inexperienced just because I warned your boyfriend off," he added after a minute. "I got the shock of my life when I realized that you'd never experienced even the mildest form of intimacy."

  "Men always say they know, but how do they?" she asked irritably.

  He forced his gaze to the road. "Because of the way you reacted," he said tersely. "A sophisticated woman gives as much as she gets, Nat," he told her bluntly. "You were wide-eyed and fascinated by everything I did, and I got in over my head long before I expected to. I dreamed about that night for years."

  "If we're making confessions, so did I," she admitted without looking at him.

  He grimaced. "I should have gone home before I gave in to temptation."

  Her pale eyes touched his face like loving hands. She'd never known anyone like him. She didn't think there was anyone else like him. He'd colored her dreams, become her world, in the years since that one incredible night.

  She didn't answer him. He glanced at her and laughed hollowly. "Which doesn't change the past or bring us any closer to a solution," he mused. "You're not liberated, and I'm a confirmed bachelor."

  She toyed with her seat belt. "Are you really? I used to think that your father made you wary of marriage. He and your mother were totally unsuited, from what everybody says."

  "Everybody being my sister, Vivian," he guessed. "She doesn't remember our mother."

  "Neither do you, really, do you?" she wondered aloud.

  "She died and left him with four kids," he told her. "He wasn't up to raising even one. I've always thought that the pressure of it started him drinking, and then he couldn't stop."

  His face hardened with the words, and she knew he was remembering the bad times he'd had with his father.

  "Mack, do you really think you're like him?" she asked softly.

  "They say abused kids become abusive parents," he replied without thinking, and then could have bitten his tongue right through for the slip.

  She only nodded, as if she'd expected that answer. "So they say. But there are exceptions to every rule. If you were going to be abusive, Vivian and Bob and Charles would have been sitting in the school counselor's office years ago. They could have asked to go into foster care any time they wanted to."

  "Vivian would never have given up shopping sprees," he pointed out.

  She swiped gently at his sleeve. "Stop that. You know she loves you. So do the boys. You're the kindest human being I've ever known."

  A ruddy color ran up his high cheekbones. He didn't look at her. "Flattery?"

  "Fact," she countered. Her fingers smoothed over his sleeve lazily. "You're one of a kind."

  He moved his shoulder abruptly. "Don't do that."

  She pulled her fingers back. "Okay. Sorry." She laughed it off, but her face flushed.

  "Don't get your feelings hurt," he said irritably, glancing at her. "I want you. Don't push your luck."

  Her eyes widened.

  "You still haven't got the least damned notion of what it does to me when you touch me, do you?" he asked impatiently. "This stoic exterior is a pose. Every time I look at you, I see you in that velvet dress, and I want to stop the truck and..." He ground his teeth together. "It's been a long dry spell. Don't make it worse."

  "What about Glenna?" she chided.

  He hesitated for a minute and then glanced at her with a what-the-hell sort of smile and said, "She can't fix what she didn't break."

  Her eyebrows reached for the ceiling. "You don't look broken to me."

  "You know what I mean. She's pretty and responsive, but she isn't you."

  Her face brightened. "Poor Glenna."

  "Poor Dave What's-his-name," he countered with a mocking smile. "Apparently he doesn't get any further with you than she does with me."

  "Everyone says he's very handsome."

  "Everyone says she's very pretty."

  She shook her head and stared out the window, folding her arms. "Vivian is barely speaking to me," she said, desperate to change the subject. "I know she's jealous of the way Whit flirts with me. I just don't know how to stop him. It almost seems as if he's doing it deliberately."

  "He is," he said, his expression changing. "It's an old ploy, but it's pretty effective."

  "I don't understand."

  He pulled up at a stop sign a few miles outside Medicine Ridge and looked at her. "He makes her think he isn't interested so that she'll work harder to attract his attention. By that time, she's so desperate that she'll do anything he wants her to do." His eye narrowed angrily. "She's rich, Nat. He isn't. He makes a good salary, for a teacher, but I had him investigated. He spends heavily at the gambling parlors."

  She bit her lower lip. "Poor Viv."

  "She'd be poor if she married him," he agreed. "That's why I object to him. He did get a girl in trouble, but that's not why I don't want him hanging around Viv. He's a compulsive gambler and he doesn't think he has a problem." He looked genuinely worried. "I haven't told her."

  She whistled softly. "And if you do tell her..."

  "She won't believe me. She'll think I'm being contrary and dig in her heels. She might marry him out of spite." He shrugged. "I'm between a rock and a hard place."

  "Maybe I should encourage him," she began.

  "No."

  "But I could—"

  "I said no," he repeated, his tone full of authority. "Let me handle it my way."

  "All right," she said, giving in.

  "I know what I'm doing," he told her as he pulled the truck onto the highway. "You just be ready at five."

  "Okay, boss," she drawled, and grinned at his quick glare.

  Natalie was on pins and needles waiting for five o'clock. She was dressed by four. She'd topped her short hair with a glittery green rhinestone hair clip that brought out the emerald of her eyes and made the green velvet dress look even more elegant. When the Lincoln pulled up in her front yard and Mack got out to meet her on the porch, she fumbled trying to lock her door.

  He took her hand in his and held it tight. "Don't start getting flustered," he chided gently, looking elegant in his dinner jacket and matching slacks. The white shirt had only the hint of ruffles down the front, with its black vest and tie. He was devastating dressed up. Apparently he found her equally devastating, because his glance swept over her from the high heels to the crown of her head. He smiled.

  "You look nice, too," she said shyly.

  His fingers locked into hers. "I'm rather glad we aren't going to be alone tonight," he murmured dryly as they walked toward the car. "In that dress, you'd tempt a carved statue."

  "I'm not taking it off for you," she told him. "You're a confirmed bachelor.''

  "Change my mind," he challenged.

  Her heart jumped and she laughed. "That's a first."

  "Tonight is a first," he pointed out as
they paused beside the passenger door. He looked at her with slow, sensuous appraisal. "Our first date, Natalie."

  She colored. "So it is."

  He opened the door. In the back seat, Vivian and Whit broke apart quickly, and Vivian laughed in a high-pitched tone, pushing back her short blond hair.

  "Hi, Nat!" Vivian said cheerfully, sounding totally unlike the very stressed woman who'd phoned her the day before. "You look terrific."

  "So do you," Natalie said, and her friend really was a knockout in pale blue silk. Whit was wearing evening clothes, like Mack, but he managed to look slouchy just the same. Vivian didn't notice. She was clinging to Whit's arm as if he was a treasure she was fearful of losing.

  "I have a black velvet dress, but I wanted something easier to move around in," Vivian said.

  "Velvet's very nice," Natalie agreed.

  "Very expensive, too," Vivian added, as if she knew that Natalie hadn't paid for the dress.

  ''They do have charge accounts, even for penniless college students," Natalie pointed out in a tone she rarely used.

  Vivian flushed. "Oh. Of course."

  "We aren't all wealthy, Vivian," Whit added in a cooler tone. "It's nice for you, if you can pay cash for things, but we lesser mortals have to make do with time payments."

  "I said I'm sorry," Vivian said tightly.

  "Did you? It didn't sound very much like it," Whit said and moved away from her. Vivian's teeth clamped shut almost audibly, and she grasped her evening bag as if she'd like to rip it apart.

  "Which play are we going to see?" Natalie asked quickly, trying to recover what was left of the evening.

  "Arsenic and Old Lace" Mack said. "The Billings community college drama classes are presenting it. I've heard that they are pretty good."

  "Medicine Ridge College has a strong drama department of its own, doesn't it, Natalie?" Whit asked conversationally. "I took a class in dramatic arts, but I was always nervous in front of an audience."

  "So was I," Natalie agreed. "It takes someone with less inhibitions than I have."

  "I had the lead in my senior play," Vivian said coldly.

  "And you were wonderful," Natalie said with a smile. "Even old Professor Blake raved about your portrayal of Stella."