RENEGADE'S REDEMPTION Read online

  “I have colas, maybe some iced tea in the fridge.” Backing out of the car, he swung the door back and forth, giving her time, space.

  He’d noted her reaction, damn him. But she couldn’t have stopped it if her life had depended on it. “I’m not thirsty.”

  “I am. Tommy probably is.”

  “Yep,” Tommy muttered. “Real thirsty. I want to see inside. I don’t want to sit in the car. It’s hot.”

  Royal’s expression didn’t change, but amusement deepened the green of his eyes.

  Well, why not? She almost had to laugh at her own contrariness. Her throat was parched with heat and thirst, but mulish obstinacy rooted her in her car… And she’d taunted him about his need for control. She wanted to go inside. But, obscurely, she felt she had to stay outside.

  He’d overwhelmed her in her own space. Inside, on his turf, she’d be even more at a disadvantage. Because everything about this house and its location pulled at her in some indefinable way. “We’re fine,” she repeated stubbornly…

  “Up to you. And Tommy.” Royal smiled. “It’s not the wicked witch’s cottage, Elly.” He shifted, and the sun glinted like polished brass along the fine hairs of his arm where it rested on the door…

  To keep from ruffling her hand along that shine of hair and skin, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Funny. It has that kind of air. As though it’s under a spell.” Turning off the engine, she rested her arms on the steering wheel. “This is … peaceful.”

  “It is.” Royal pulled the tail of his shirt free of his waistband and wiped his face. He inhaled, and a gap between his waistband and skin flickered. “Awful hot out here, Elly. And you could admire the scenery from the porch, you know. With a cold drink.”

  “Yep.” Before she could grab Tommy to stop him, her son climbed over the seat and scooted out next to Royal. “And I can play and visit while you put on your rodeo clothes.” Tagging after Royal, Tommy caught up to him. “Right?”

  “If your mom says you can.” Royal glanced over his shoulder. “You don’t want to stay out here in the heat, Elly.”

  But she did. She was charmed into near-somnolence by the humming quiet and peace. She couldn’t imagine resisting the inside of the house. She would end up begging him to let her stay here in this enchanted place if she didn’t keep her wits about her.

  Somewhere in the distance, a merry, rollicking bird song broke the silence. A flash of russet and a line of white sailed into view, then disappeared. Enthralled by the clear music of its song, Elly tracked the quick flight of the small bird. The outside of Royal’s house delighted her, and she couldn’t tell why.

  Like Royal, the house was deceptive.

  “You’ll roast. Come on inside.”

  “Mommy!” Tommy danced around Royal in the sunlight. “Come on.”

  “Oh, fiddle, why not? You’re right. It’s too hot to sit in the car, I guess.” Curiosity more than the ninety-eight-degree heat and Royal’s coaxing finally pulled her out of the car. Following Royal and her son up the worn stairs, Elly turned and looked over her shoulder at the clearing. The world outside had disappeared in the branches of the tall pines and the soughing of their limbs. Somewhere out there, beyond her view, the real world waited.

  But here, here was peace.

  And safety, she thought, dazed. A refuge.

  Unlike the doors and windows at her house, Royal’s door was unlocked, open to anyone who chose to walk in. But she didn’t feel threatened or uneasy.

  Royal shucked his shirt and shoes the minute he stepped inside and ambled through an arch to the kitchen. Reaching up, he pulled the chain to a wooden paddle fan. With air circulating over them, he stuck his head into the interior of an ancient refrigerator. White vapor misted in the warmth of the room. “No tea,” he said finally, withdrawing his head, “Sorry.”

  “Soda. Iced water. Anything you have.”

  “Soda! Soda!” trumpeted Tommy, butting Royal’s leg. “Soda!”

  She answered the questioning lift of Royal’s eyebrow with a nod. “Why not? It’s a holiday.”

  Dropping ice cubes into a plastic cup and a tall, fragile glass, Royal handed the plastic one to Tommy, who took it carefully with both hands and walked with short steps back out onto the porch, banging the screen door open with his behind. “Goin’ to swing.” He gestured with his head toward the rope hammock slung across the far corner of the porch.

  “Sure, squirt. But stay on the porch, where your mom can keep an eye on you.”

  Startled, Elly turned to him. For a man with no children, Royal had an uncanny idea of how she felt about hers. As if he understood her fear.

  Catching her baffled look, he shrugged a bit self-consciously before heading toward the back of the house. He stopped and came back. Tucking the flat of his hands into his waistband, he stared at her for a minute, almost as if he were ill at ease. Then, abruptly, he spun on his bare heel and headed for the bedroom with long strides, saying only, “Look around. Make yourself at home.”

  She could, too. “I will. I have to warn you, though, I’m nosy, too.”

  “Good luck,” he called back dryly.

  “Oh, wonderful. Permission to snoop.” She surveyed the room. The house had a charm of wood and wide windows and space. Lots of space, she realized, seeing no furniture. She called to him, “And you had the nerve to call my decorating minimalist.”

  “Reckon we have a lot more in common than you thought, huh?” His voice came from behind a partially closed door where the edge of a navy futon on the floor showed.

  “Probably not.” Glancing toward the bedroom door, Elly strolled to the refrigerator. Opening it, she scanned its bare interior. No food, no leftovers from carryouts. “I’m quite sure we have nothing in common.”

  His voice came over the sound of the shower. “You mean we’re not soul mates, Elly?”

  “Nah.” Clinking the ice cubes against the lovely crystal he’d given her, she strolled around the living-room space with its deep windowsills and wide-plank floor. No television. No stereo.

  Other than the table and chair in the kitchen and the futon in his bedroom, the place was empty. But not barren or sterile. It had a sense of purposeful emptiness, like a Japanese garden, or—

  And then it hit her.

  Royal’s house reminded her of a monk’s cell. Ascetic. Stripped of extraneous distractions, of luxury, of everything except the most basic of necessities. As if he were punishing himself, voluntarily donning a hair shirt.

  She couldn’t move.

  Royal’s house went a long way toward explaining the contradictions she’d sensed in him, the aura of control conflicting with the don’t-give-a-damn attitude, the ascetic with the wastrel. Angel and devil. A soul-deep conflict.

  Steam from the shower drifted to her, heavy with the scent of his soap and shampoo. And outside, oh, outside, the fragrance of flowers turned the warm air silky with perfume, rich and seductive.

  As if lightning had scratched the words across the sky, she understood the message of his house. This was not the house of a man who would have a gambling addiction, or any addiction. Intuitively, she’d known that, but his house clarified the point for her. Royal might deliberately choose to race full speed down the road to self-destruction, but it would be his choice.

  Complex, complicated, he was far more dangerous than she’d dreamed.

  Walking around the living room, Elly trailed her hand over the polished pine shelves of a bookcase. Empty. But the wood was satin smooth, a lure to the senses.

  Circling the room and watching Tommy swing belly down on the hammock on the front porch, she decided that the most interesting fact was that Royal might be wrestling with his demons, but he’d selected a living space that charmed with its proportions and lines. He’d chosen a house that would give pleasure to anyone with an eye for beauty.

  And to anyone with a need for peace.

  Her heart turned over in pity for him, in compassion that he could torm
ent himself so. What had he done to himself, to deny himself even the smallest pleasures of life? She could handle, barely, the way he appealed to her senses. She had no chance against this subversive appeal to her heart. “Hey, slowpoke, are you drowning in there?” she called.

  Pipes clanked and gurgled as he turned off the shower. “Give me a sec. I’m clean, but I look like hell. Going out in public with me may offend your delicate nature, sugar, or destroy your reputation, so feel free to pretend you’ve never seen me before in your life. I won’t hold it against you because, quite frankly, I don’t know if I’d claim acquaintance with me right now.”

  “Because of the way you look? I didn’t think you were so vain, Detective.”

  “Neither did I. But I hadn’t really taken a good look at myself until now. Soap and shampoo can only do so much.” There was a long pause, and then he poked his head and shoulder around the door. Dark as molasses, his wet hair dripped onto the floor. Water beaded thickly on his naked shoulder. “And, Elly?” Sending droplets flying, he raked a hand through his hair. He’d taken off the butterfly bandage.

  “Yes?” She wished the man would learn to wear a shirt. Or warn her.

  He braced his arm against the door, keeping it open while he ran a towel over his hair. “I don’t have friends in Palmaflora right now.”

  “I know. Because they think you’re a bent cop.” Fascinated, she watched a drop trail down his forearm to his elbow, his biceps, and into the deep curve of his armpit, where gold gleamed briefly before he lowered his arm.

  “Yeah.” He stared at the floor. “They might be rude. Unpleasant. Some of the good citizens might decide to say anything.”

  “Oh, swell. More excitement.” Elly wanted to tease him, to erase the somber expression. In his house, he shouldn’t look as if the weight of the world crushed him. “Am I going to have to defend you? Should I be prepared?” She smiled gently as he stared at her. “Don’t worry, Royal. I’m not going to fall in a swoon if someone gets snarly with you. I can take care of myself. And based on what happened last night, I may have to take care of you, too. But that’s okay, big guy. I’m up to the challenge. I’ve been taking karate classes at the gym. You’re safe with me. Pushing back her sleeve, she made a muscle. “See?”

  He shook his head. “You’re a mean woman, Elly Malloy.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She smoothed her sleeve flat and settled her hat more firmly on her head.

  “Should I get you a T-shirt labeled Bodyguard? A really cool one in hot pink. You’d look great in hot pink, sugar.”

  “What you should do, Royal, is hurry up.”

  “Your slightest wish, et cetera, et cetera.” He disappeared behind the door, and she heard the squeak of a drawer being opened.

  Leaving the bare rooms behind her, she joined her son on the porch, collapsing awkwardly on the hammock with a swirl of skirt and groans to Tommy’s chortles.

  “I like Royal’s house. It makes me happy.”

  “Me, too, Tommy.” In fact, she was jealous of Royal, that he could come home every night to this place where the very floorboards sang of serenity. Of safety. Placing her empty glass carefully on the floor and laying her head on the pillow near her, Elly swung her feet up beside Tommy. A faint, clean scent of Royal drifted to her from the pillow cover, and she suspected that more nights than not, he slept here, on the hammock under the high ceilings of his porch, which looked down on the woods and wild, extravagantly colored flowers.

  If she lived here, she would, too.

  And she would bring in huge armfuls of those flowers and stick them in every corner and place candles all around the porch railing so that the glow of candlelight and sparkle of stars would fill the darkness all through the night.

  She closed her eyes. Lots of candles and flowers, their scent perfuming the air, her skin, his, enclosing them in perfume and candlelit darkness—

  “Ready?”

  Woozy with sleep and peacefulness, she smiled up at him, marveling at the fact that he could be so bruised and beautiful at the same time. Like his shabby house, he needed some upkeep. They both needed someone to care for them. “Hey,” she said without thinking, just reacting as she lifted her hand to him, wanting to touch him.

  “Hey, yourself,” he said, and the rasp in his voice sent shivers all over her, chasing away the lovely torpor.

  “I’m ready.” Setting the hammock rocking wildly, Tommy dived to the floor. “Rodeo. And I’m going to ride a horse, right? Right?”

  “Pony,” Royal said, not looking away from Elly but calling after Tommy, who took the steps two at a time, heading like a bullet toward the car.

  Elly couldn’t move, not with Royal’s gaze warming every inch of her body.

  “You’re dangerous, Elly.”

  “I was thinking the same thing about you,” she said. “You’re a very dangerous man, Royal Gaines.”

  “Guess that makes us two of a kind after all.”

  “Let me up,” she whispered, breathless as his gaze lingered at her throat.

  “I’m not touching you, Elly.”

  Her toes curled as he opened his hand and, not touching her, let his palm shape the slide of her neck into her blouse, her breasts. “You must be,” she said in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own.

  “I want to.” He bent over her and brushed her hair back from her face. He slid his palm lightly over her cheek, down her throat, his palm resting on the button at the top of her dress. “I want to do more than touch, Elly. But you know that, don’t you?” He slipped his thumb under the edge of her neckline, flicked open the button.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know, too, that your eyes telegraph everything you’re thinking?”

  “I’d make a lousy poker player.” She turned her head, welcoming the lazy stroke of his hand along her collarbone.

  “You’re no card shark,” he agreed. He ran his fingers slowly down her arm. Goose bumps followed that slow skim. “You shouldn’t look at me like that, Elly.” Working his fingers through hers, he clasped her hand.

  “Why not?” Lost in lassitude, Elly flexed her fingers in his. “I like looking at you, Royal. I’m sure I’m not the first woman to tell you that.”

  “No.” He tugged on her hand. “But no one’s ever looked at me quite the way you do.”

  “And how is that?” Half-sitting, she raised her other hand and trailed it over his chest, down the ridged muscles of his arm to his right hand. He wasn’t wearing the pressure bandage around his ribs, and she could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. “How do I look at you, Royal? Tell me,” she whispered recklessly.

  He moved so fast that she was on her feet before she realized that he’d grasped her under her arms and set her on the floor. “You look at me like you’d like to tie me up and drive me crazy with touching and stroking. And you could, too, Elly.” He slipped his hand under the ruff of her hair and enclosed her hands in his free one. His kiss against her wrist was swift, hot. “You could make me howl for the pleasure of having you run these hands over me.”

  She smiled, pleased. “Could I?”

  “Sweetheart, you have no idea what you could make me do.” His grip on the back of her neck tightened. “And fortunately for both of us, I have enough of a sense of survival left to keep my mouth shut.”

  “That’s sweet,” she said, and smiled again. “Such an ego booster, Gaines. You must not be thinking clearly.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m thinking real clearly. Otherwise, I’d forget you have a five-year-old within shouting distance and I’d let you do your worst with me. Or your best.” His grin was pure devilment. “And I’d show you what I could do to you. The prospects have kept me awake since I’ve met you. So, believe me, Elly, I’m thinking clearly. And with my brain, not with some other neglected body organ.”

  Without her volition, her gaze dropped to the neglected but seriously interested organ making its presence known under the worn zipper placket of his clean Levi’s. She blushe
d furiously. Delightedly.

  “Hmm.” She could feel her blush deepening as she tried to look everywhere except below his belt. “Um.” If he’d back up, she’d have something besides faded denim and aroused male in her view. “Uh.” In her sneakers, her toes curled with pleasure.

  “Well…”

  “Yes?” he encouraged, not moving an inch. “Anything else you want to say? Maybe try something with two syllables, just for fun?”

  “Hmm. Don’t think so.” She took a deep breath. “Nope.”

  “Mommy! Royal! Come on! The ponies will be all gone by the time we get to the rodeo,” Tommy ran back to the top of the steps and jumped to the bottom. “Whoa!” His feet skidded in the sand, and he tumbled into sand. Grinning up at them, he dusted himself off and headed for the top step, prepared to take a second flying leap.

  “Car, Tommy. I’m on my way.” Elly slid her hands free of Royal’s. Like lazy bubbles rising slowly to the surface, pleasure trickled through her. With her hand on the screen door, she faced Royal. “Thanks for letting me see your house. I think it’s extraordinary. Beautiful.”

  “What?” Puzzled, he turned to look behind him. “Beautiful? This?”

  “I love it. You’re lucky you have this place.”

  “Sugar, after I gambled all my money away, this was the cheapest joint I could find to rent. Extraordinarily cheap is what this is.” He shook his head, reinforcing her guess that he hadn’t consciously chosen the house, that his subconscious had saved him in spite of himself. “These days, cheap suits me very well.”

  “I doubt that.” She preceded him down the steps, picking one of the orange-red morning glories that curled around the banister. “Whether you know it or not, Detective, you also walk like old money.” Dancing in back of him and circling around to the front, she laughed. “Absolutely a world-class walk. And a really terrific tush.” She relished the dark red that slashed his cheekbones above the bruises. Served him right for all those innuendos he pitched to her. Coming in like soft lobs, they took a tricky spin at the last second. Walking backward toward the car, she tilted her head teasingly, staying just out of reach as she eyed his behind. “That butt’s pretty darned close to a ten, I’d say.”