Legally Binding Read online

  She slipped her fingers under the waistband of her panty hose and began pushing them down.

  He grabbed her wrists. “Not so fast.”

  “I want you to touch me. I want—”

  “I’ll give you everything you want and more. Believe me, darlin’. I want this to last all night.” He touched his lips to hers, soft, hot and full of promises.

  She released the panty hose and moved her hands around his neck.

  His hand once again slipped down her back and between her legs. He caressed her through the nylon, stoking her desire until she thought she’d burn up from the heat. He scattered kisses over her neck and collarbone. Then his mouth moved lower, over one breast, claiming a nipple. His tongue teased. His fingers stroked.

  Her body convulsed and shuddered. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, clinging to him as her knees threatened to buckle. Heat washed through her in waves.

  When the sensations finally passed, she was breathless. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips. Then he lowered her to the bed, stripping off her panty hose on the way.

  She lay back on the softness. Her muscles felt limp, her energy spent. But her heart felt strong and full to bursting.

  Maybe Kelly and Cara were right. Maybe she had a bit of Shotgun Sally in her, as well. Maybe Bart was her Zachary Gale, and she was meant to save him from this murder charge. Maybe fate had brought them together and led them to this moment. She reached out her arms to him, wanting him to join her on the bed. Wanting to curl into his warmth.

  “Not yet. I want to look at you.” He stood at her feet, his gaze moving over her the same way his hands had done. Over her breasts, down her belly and settling between her legs. Caressing, stoking the fire once again. Finally he moved his hands to his waist and unhooked his silver buckle.

  Lindsey watched, anticipation building like a coil tightening inside her.

  He unzipped his fly and pushed jeans down powerful legs. Stepping out of his boots and jeans, he straightened and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. Eyes locked with hers, he pushed them down, as well.

  She lowered her gaze and swallowed into a dry throat.

  She’d known from the bulge in his jeans that he was large. But she hadn’t expected this. Warmth rushed between her legs. At the same time, her muscles clenched in apprehension.

  The shadow of a smile played on Bart’s lips. “Don’t worry. We’ll take it slow. I want this to be good for you.” He leaned forward. Starting with her feet, he massaged his way up her legs, littering kisses along the way. By the time he reached the tops of her thighs, her apprehension was gone, and tingling warmth flowed through her body.

  He gently parted her legs and lowered his head. His lips caressed her. His tongue opened her.

  Tension once again built in her muscles. Except this time it wasn’t caused by trepidation. This time it was urgency, need. She raised her hips to him.

  Cupping her buttocks in his hands, he devoured her.

  Another shudder ripped through her. And another. Finally, when she was certain she couldn’t take any more pleasure, he kissed his way up her body, over her breasts. He reached past her and pulled a packet from the nightstand. Ripping the condom package open, he sheathed himself before settling his hips between her spread legs.

  She could feel him nestle against her, long and hard and ready. Her body ached for him to fill her. She tilted her hips, opening to him.

  Claiming her lips in a kiss, he eased into her. First just a little. Then a little more.

  She stretched to receive him. Pain burned through her. She sucked in a breath.

  Bart froze. “I’m sorry.”

  She grasped his shoulders. “No. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

  He eased in a bit more.

  Her body warmed, accepting him a little at a time until he was fully inside.

  He searched her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  Raising her chin, she pecked his lips. “I’m wonderful.”

  He smiled. “Yes, you are.” He lowered his mouth onto hers and began moving slowly.

  The pain between her legs faded, replaced by heat and wetness and overpowering need. She moved with him, awkwardly at first, then with the rhythm of a perfect dance. Heat built between them, melding their bodies, their souls. And when the shudder claimed her this time, he was with her, calling out her name.

  ARM CURLED AROUND a sleeping Lindsey, Bart stared at his bedroom wall. He breathed in the light fragrance of roses, his chest aching like he’d been stuck with a dull knife.

  Making love with her had been even more than he’d imagined it could be. She had touched his heart, touched his soul. She had widened his world and opened up a future he’d only dreamed of. A future filled with love and children and happily ever after.

  A future he doubted he would ever know.

  She’d said she wanted him, needed him, even if it only meant one night. But he couldn’t fool himself. He hadn’t gone against his better judgment for Lindsey’s sake. He’d done it for himself. Because he needed to feel her skin against his. Because he needed to look into her eyes as he entered her. Because he needed to lock the memory of making love to her inside his heart where nothing could take it away—not the law, not prison, not the bleak future he faced. And now he’d have to live with what he’d done.

  And hope to God Lindsey didn’t pay the price for his selfishness.

  He drew in another deep breath of her. A faint scent registered in the back of his mind. Not just the sweet fragrance of roses, but a trace of smoke. An uneasy feeling spread over his skin.

  Gently untangling himself from her, he slipped from the bed and padded to the open window on bare feet. The ranch sprawled in front of him, moonlight reflecting off white buildings and pipe corrals. He inhaled again. Definitely smoke. Smoke coming from the direction of the barns.

  A panicked equine scream pierced the air.

  Adrenaline slammed through his bloodstream. He spun from the window. Groping in the dim light, he pulled on his clothes.

  Lindsey stirred and sat up in bed. “What’s going on?”

  Another whinny split the night.

  Bart reached for a boot. “Smells like fire. I think it’s coming from the barns. I’m going down to check it out.”

  She threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, the moonlight glowing on her skin. “I’m coming with you.”

  The thought of Lindsey anywhere near a barn fire rammed into his gut like a hard fist. “No, stay here. Call 9-1-1.”

  She nodded. Struggling into her white silk blouse, she grabbed the phone at the side of the bed.

  Bart finished thrusting his feet into his second boot and charged into the hall. He raced down the steps and out the door. The smoke was stronger out in the open air. He launched into a dead run. By the time he reached the door of the main horse barn, a ruckus of whinnies had started up. It was a fire, all right, in the horse barn. He had to get the horses out.

  He flattened a palm against the door. The steel was cool to the touch. A good sign. At least the fire wasn’t right behind the door; he had a chance to get inside. He grabbed the door’s handle.

  “The fire department is on its way,” Lindsey shouted breathlessly from behind him. “What should I do? How can I help?”

  He spun around.

  She was dressed in the white blouse and dark blue skirt she’d worn to court. Under the skirt, her bare legs tapered down to a pair of flimsy high-heeled shoes. Not exactly the gear for fighting fires. Not that he’d let her take one step inside that burning building even if she was dressed in full firefighter’s gear. “Go wake Gary and the hands. If they aren’t awake already.”

  She nodded and raced in the direction of the bunkhouse and apartments. The hands’ living quarters were farther from the horse barns than the main house was, but Bart hoped they had heard some of the ruckus or smelled smoke and were on their way.

  As soon as Lindsey had cleared out, he turned back to the barn and slid the big
door open. Smoke billowed out. A wave of sound hit him. Horse snorts and screams. The thunk of hooves against wood. The low roar of flame.

  He plunged into the smoke. Groping through the darkness, he located the switch box and flipped on all the lights. Even with the lights blaring overhead, the barn was dim. Smoke hung in the air and made his eyes sting and water. Smoke and something else.

  The smell of gasoline.

  Someone had set the fire deliberately. His gut clenched, tight as a fist. He pushed the anger from his mind. He had only minutes, maybe seconds to save the horses. He had to focus.

  He raced down the barn aisle. Smoke billowed from the tack room and spread out along one wall. There were only thirty horses in this barn. Mostly his show horses, a few pregnant broodmares and a few mares with brand-new babies. The working horses and other broodmares were in the corrals outside, safe from the fire. Reaching the first box stall, he unlatched the door and yanked it open.

  The mare inside nearly ran him over in her haste to get out. He stepped back and spread his arms, barring her from running deeper into the barn, directing her toward the open door and freedom.

  She weaved, undecided at first. Then finally catching a whiff of fresh air, she raced like a bat out of hell for the door, steel-shod hooves clattering and slipping on the cement aisle floor.

  He moved to the next stall and the next, freeing each horse, directing them to the open door. As he got deeper into the barn, the smoke grew thicker, the heat more intense. Flames flickered and glowed, leaping over ceiling beams and huddling along the floor.

  A male voice shouted through the thick smoke. Gary.

  “I’m about halfway down!” Bart yelled back. His chest seized with the effort, sending him into a fit of coughing.

  Suddenly many people were with him, pulling open stalls, herding the horses to safety. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t see faces. All he could see were shapes.

  One grabbed a hose in the wash stall and sprayed, flame cowering under the assault. Another sprayed a fire extinguisher. A smaller figure clad in white and dark blue slipped past, heading for the broodmare stalls at the far end of the barn.

  Lindsey.

  Fear clogged his throat and turned his stomach. He set out after her, racing deeper into the barn. White swirled around him, thick and lethal. He fought to see, fought to breathe. Lindsey was nowhere. It was like she’d disappeared into the white fog. Or like she’d never existed.

  Had she really slipped past him into the smoke? Had he just imagined her? Imagined her because he was so scared she’d get caught up in the fire? That she’d be in danger? That he’d lose her?

  Sweat poured down his face, salt and smoke filling his eyes. He fought on. If Lindsey was in here, he’d find her. Find her or die trying.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bart groped through the smoke, struggling to see. The stall doors gaped open like screaming mouths on either side of the aisle. Stall after stall was empty, each horse safely outside.

  No sign of Lindsey.

  Even through the thickening smoke, he could see the large sliding door at this end of the barn. If he opened the door, he could have more oxygen. He could breathe. Problem was, the fire could breathe, too. He had to check the last stalls before he opened the door. Because once he opened it, he’d better damn well be prepared to get the hell out.

  He forced his feet to move to the end of the barn. In spite of the hands’ success in beating back the flames with the wash-rack hose, the fire was still going strong. Heat assaulted him. His lungs ached with lack of oxygen and burned from smoke. He had to get out of here. And he had to get out now.

  He made his way to the end of the aisle. The end stalls were broodmare stalls, extra large and reserved for mares either with foals or expecting. He liked to call them family double wides. They held two mares who could drop their foals any moment. He reached one stall and peered inside. Smoke burned his eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks. But through the tears, he could see the stall was empty.

  He started across the aisle to the other side of the barn. Before he reached the last stall, he could sense movement inside. He raced through the open door.

  Lindsey stood near the head of the sorrel mare.

  Bart’s heart caught in his throat.

  Her eyes were wide, her hair singed. She grasped the mare’s mane with one hand, obviously trying to coax the frightened horse out of the false safety of the stall. When she saw Bart, a look of relief washed over her face. “She’s scared. She made it halfway down the aisle and then turned around and headed back to her stall. I think she might be in labor. I can’t leave her here.”

  Of course she couldn’t. Not Lindsey. Hell, neither could he.

  The mare’s wet sides heaved. Her eyes rolled white in their sockets.

  He slipped into the stall and joined Lindsey at the mare’s head. “We need something to cover her eyes. If she can’t see the fire, she won’t know what she’s going through.” He stripped off his shirt and tied it over the mare’s eyes.

  The mare tossed her head, trying to rid herself of the blindfold. He grasped a handful of mane. Using it as a lead rope, he guided the mare to the mouth of the stall while Lindsey encouraged her from behind.

  The mare balked at the door. Lindsey raised a flat hand and brought it down on her haunches in a loud slap. The mare surged out the door and into the aisle.

  Bart gripped her mane tighter and circled an arm under her neck to bring her back under control. He guided the blinded horse to the barn door. He glanced at Lindsey. “Open it. And as soon as you do, get out. I’ll be right behind. This side of the barn is going to be a fireball.”

  She nodded. She grabbed the handle of the door. At Bart’s nod, she yanked it wide and jumped out. The mare shot through the opening, pulling Bart with her. Flame roared behind them, heat licking at their heels.

  BART SURVEYED the ranch, anger hardening in his chest. Red and blue light throbbed in the night, bouncing off the whitewashed buildings and fence like the sign announcing some damn sale at the local discount store. The county’s fire truck, all five county sheriff’s cars and an ambulance crowded around the charred skeleton that was once the horse barn.

  The hands who weren’t being treated by the EMS for burns and smoke inhalation had gathered the horses into one of the far corrals. Their frightened whinnies cut through the low rumble of human voices.

  He turned from the wreckage and focused on Lindsey. Perched inside the open back door of the ambulance, she stared at the activity with shell-shocked eyes. Despite the warm night, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. She held it tight at her throat with trembling hands.

  It’d been damn foolish, the way she’d plunged into the smoke to save that mare without thought of the risk to herself. And damn brave. But he’d come to expect nothing less from her. He just hoped to hell her bravery didn’t get her hurt. Or dead.

  A sheriff’s car pulled up to the ambulance on its way out. Bart recognized the black hair and sharp cheekbones of Deputy Mitchell Steele behind the wheel. He motioned for Mitch to stop.

  Mitch hung an arm out his open window. “Bart.”

  “Mitch, I need a word.”

  The deputy looked up at him, narrowing his unusual golden eyes. “What is it?”

  “I smelled gasoline. In the barn. When I opened the door it hit me like a damned blanket.”

  “So you think it’s arson?”

  He nodded. “Listen, could you do me a favor? Could you check on Kenny’s whereabouts tonight? A lot of things have been happening around here since Jeb’s death, things I suspect Kenny is behind, and Hurley won’t look into any of it.”

  Mitch nodded as if he wasn’t surprised. “I’ll check up on Kenny and see what else I can do. But I can’t promise much. Sheriff Ben and Hurley have been keeping me out of the loop lately. Probably has something to do with the upcoming election. Ben has his eye on the mayor’s job, and Hurley doesn’t want me as competition for the sheriff post.”
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br />   “He’s worried you’re going to follow in your daddy’s footsteps?”

  A shadow of pain passed over Mitch’s hard face. Pain, no doubt, from the rumors surrounding Mitch’s father’s death. Rumors of scandal and suicide.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d do whatever you can, Mitch. You’re the only lawman in this county that I trust.”

  “And we all know how much the trust of a murderer is worth, don’t we?” Hurley Zeller strode toward them on short legs. He turned his mean little eyes on Mitch. “This is my case, Steele. Don’t you have a call to get to?”

  The planes of Mitch’s face hardened. He glanced at the beat-up sedan pulling up the road to the ranch. Cara Hamilton’s red hair shone in the passenger seat, her boss Beau Jennings hulked behind the wheel. “Don’t worry, Hurley. I’m not planning to steal your headlines. We’ll talk later, Bart.” Mitch raised the car’s window and drove away.

  Hurley cursed at the departing car and then swung his attention back to Bart. “So what were you talking to Steele about? Confessing you set the fire yourself to direct attention away from your uncle’s murder? You know, make yourself look more sympathetic and heroic to the public?”

  “I hope you either have facts to back up those charges or you keep them to yourself, Deputy,” Lindsey said as she stepped beside Bart. Her voice challenged despite the pallor of her face and trembling of her hands. “That is unless you want to be looking at a lawsuit once Bart is acquitted.”

  “I’m just calling it as I see it. I’m sure you two have some scheme cooked up, but I sure as hell ain’t playing along.” Hurley’s lip curled in a sneer.

  A sneer Bart would love to wipe off with his fists.

  Lindsey shook her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What is it with you? What do you have against Bart?”

  “Other than the fact that he murdered a man?”