For a Baby. C.J. Carmichael
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“But the night is young.” He put his hand back on her arm, this time holding tight. “Jerry,” he signaled the bartender. “Bring her another, and a draft for me.”
Though the grip on her arm was unrelenting, Heather wasn’t afraid. She was in a public place, surrounded by neighbors who had known her for most of her life. “I’m sorry, but I really am tired.”
She attempted again to pull away, but Trenton only moved in closer. She smelled his foul breath and tried not to grimace.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
The door opened again, only this time Heather couldn’t turn to see who was coming or going. Trenton had her pinned tight, his body blocking most of her view.
“Trenton,” the bartender said, “I think the lady wants to go home. You’d better let go of her arm.”
Yeah, because it was starting to hurt.
“But we ain’t had a chance to get to know each other yet.”
Heather had decided it was time to forget about the poor guy’s feelings and go for a knee in his groin, when a hand clamped down on Trenton’s shoulder.
“Sorry I’m late, honey. Been waiting long?”
She glanced up at a man who was about as different from Trenton as a man could be. Tall and strong, good-looking with thick dark hair and perfect teeth. And he didn’t smell bad, either.
“Hey there, T.J.” She’d known him all her life. Been in the same classroom from grades one through twelve. That didn’t mean she felt relieved at having him ease her out of this sticky situation. In some ways T.J. posed more of a risk to her than Trenton McGuire ever could.
Trenton’s hand dropped from her arm. He slunk back onto his bar stool, with a slightly fearful aspect, as if he was worried he was about to get hit. But once he’d backed off, T.J. didn’t even glance in his direction again.
“Ready to go home?” he offered her his arm and after a slight pause, she took it.
People had been watching the drama with interest, a few of the men on the ready in case she really did need help. But T.J. had beaten all the wanna-be-heroes to the punch. Now they returned to their drinks and conversations, not paying much attention as Heather walked with T.J. out into the evening.
She breathed deeply, taking in the fresh bite of spring air with pleasure. In the pale moonlight, the white grain elevator across the street seemed to glow. She felt T.J.’s hold tighten and shivered.
“Thanks for helping me out in there.”
“You okay?”
There wasn’t quite enough light for her to read his expression. She unlinked her arm and took a step backward.
“Sure. You go on ahead. Don’t let me interrupt your plans.” He must have been going to the bar for a reason. Maybe he was meeting someone.
“I’ll walk you home.” He moved toward her and offered his arm again.
She wanted to say no, yet couldn’t find her voice. T. J. Collins had been back in Chatsworth for a few years now. He’d left his high-powered law partnership in Calgary to take over the Handy Hardware from his father. In all that time, she’d barely spoken to him. Despite their history, maybe because of their history, the man made her way too uncomfortable.
He started walking, taking her with him. Their strides matched, and they moved in silence, something Heather couldn’t imagine doing with anyone else. Normally she tended to be a chatty person, but small talk had never worked to her advantage with T.J.
Unfortunately the lack of conversation only made her more aware of his physical presence. Of the breadth of his shoulders, the lightness of his stride and the warmth of his arm against hers.
Though he’d never been to visit, he knew which house was hers—a two-bedroom bungalow in the middle of quiet, residential Mallard Avenue.
He waited for her to unlock the door.
“Thanks again, T.J.” She knew she should draw back once the words were out, but she let his gaze trap her. They stood, in the dark, on her landing, the scent of sweet lilac from the shrubs on either side of them clouding her senses.
He didn’t say a word to her. Not a word. Just reached for her. And suddenly they were kissing with the instincts of lovers who knew each other very well.
Somehow T.J. ended up in her foyer, the front door closed. Heather’s mind felt numb, her body wondrously alive. T.J.’s mouth was warm, incessant, gentle and demanding all at the same time. He kissed her as if he thought he might never be able to kiss another woman. All his energy, thought and desire, focused on her.
And she melted under his touch. As she always had.
“Heather.”
That was all he had to say. She let him pull her sweater from her shoulders, her T-shirt over her head. He carried her to the bedroom—picked the guest room by mistake, but it didn’t matter. There was a bed in here, too. They sat on the edge of the mattress, kissing again as his hands worked the clasp at the back of her bra.
Her breasts yearned to be touched. Her entire body yearned to be touched. Heat pooled in her core as she waited for his hands to make her feel all the delicious sensations she remembered clearly from their two previous encounters.
Much as she’d loved the other men in her life— Russell, her best friend and first lover; Nick, the brave police officer who’d been her husband—no one had ever made her feel quite the way T.J. did.
Wildly, crazily, brazenly woman.
He choked out another word. “Beautiful.” Then bent to kiss her nipples, his hands trailing down her back, then up again, coming round her rib cage to enclose the weight of her breasts.
Making love with T.J. seemed to happen so naturally, that later Heather couldn’t really identify any point in time when she’d decided, This is going to happen. It just did, as if it had been preordained. And maybe it had been—from that instant when he’d taken her arm in the bar.
This is why I’ve tried so hard to avoid you, she thought when they were both, finally, naked on the bed. The chemistry between them was so strong—and so inexplicable. It wasn’t as if they even liked each other. When they were kids he’d loved to tease and torment her. And that hadn’t changed once they were adults. So why did they keep ending up in bed together?
She knew it was wrong. She wasn’t the kind of woman who slept with a man she didn’t love. And yet, as T.J. rose above her, his well-defined chest outlined in the faint light from the unshuttered window, she felt as if she’d rather die than deny herself the next few hours. She put her hands to his pecs and felt the hard muscles tense. She hated to admit how much she wanted him right now.
“Heather.” This time there was a question in the way he said her name.
She looked at his face. He was so focused on her, his mouth serious, his gaze steady.
“I haven’t…been with a woman since my wife left. I don’t have any protection with me.”
She couldn’t believe they’d come this far and she hadn’t even thought about birth control. That was also so very not like her. She’d learned the hard way. One moment of carelessness was all it took.
But what if something did happen? Would it be that terrible this time? She was an adult now. In fact, this could be her last chance.
“Heather?
Their bodies were both primed for this moment. Yet Heather knew he would stop if she told him to. What should she do? Besides her aching sexual desire, she felt another secret yearning, equally strong.
She studied the face of the man she’d known all her life. She saw an innocence in his eyes that was usually masked. She saw longing and lust. And something more. Something she’d seen