Under A Painted Moon Read online

  She knew about his neighbors, the cousins, and widows, Helms and Watson. They kept the town supplied with all sorts of gossip in their weekly newspaper column on the society page.

  "You should have moved away from them a long time ago,” Courtney said through a frozen smile. She waved at the ladies.

  "As long as I behave, I have nothing to worry about,” he replied through equally unmoving lips. He took the bag containing the salads she'd purchased and opened the back door for her. She'd barely taken two steps inside before he scooped her up into his arms.

  "Where are we going? I'm hungry."

  "I'm starving.” He dropped her on the sofa then knelt over her. “This is the appetizer."

  "Really? I was hoping for stuffed jalapeño peppers."

  "This will be hot enough.” He cupped both her breasts. “I'm sweating already."

  She swatted at his hands. “Just stop that and kiss me!"

  He chuckled wickedly, lowering his body over hers. She fisted her hands in his hair and drew his mouth to hers. He nibbled at her lower lip until she relented and parted her lips and flicked her tongue to his. His embrace tightened. His hips flexed to hers. A marvelous warmth spread through her, spiraling out from her belly.

  His lips slid along her jaw line, down her throat and on to her breasts. He found the hard point of her nipple and teased it. Even through two layers of fabric, she could feel the heat of his breath. She made a purring sound deep in her throat. He raised his head and grinned at her.

  "Here, kitty, kitty."

  "I'll ‘kitty’ you if you don't feed me soon,” she warned. He rose in an easy, fluid movement, holding his hand out to her.

  "Come on, then. Let's cook."

  She accepted the offered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She looked around the room. The only time she'd been inside this house was when she and Tyler had helped him move in a few years ago. The original painting of Desert Moon hung above the fireplace. She paused to look at it.

  A silvery full moon hung over a mountain ridge. The barest line of a plum-colored sunset drifted along the top of the ridge. To one side, far in the distance, the city skyline was silhouetted. Only a few of the town's lights showed. The other side of the canvas showed a drift of flowery shrubs, arcing to drift off the bottom of the painting. In the center was a small meadow in which shadowy lovers embraced, lit only by the light of the moon.

  Courtney started, seeing it clearly for the first time. She stepped closer, her mouth open in surprise. Had everyone else seen this when she had not? The couple looked remarkably like her and Barry. She squared her shoulders, determined not to say a word. The original painting had been done almost ten years ago. She'd not seen it then, and she was darned if she'd ever admit it now.

  Barry called to her from the kitchen. She broke out of her reverie and darted into the room as he started pulling items out of the refrigerator. In addition to the salads she'd brought, he had a rice side dish that he popped into the microwave, fruit, cheese and a midrange Chardonnay. He removed the marinated chicken breasts from a sealed bag and put them onto a plate.

  "Do you want to eat inside, or outside?"

  "I guess I'm willing to risk the neighbor ladies."

  He nodded. “I'll start the grill and wipe off the table. You do all this.” He waved a hand over the items on the counter. She nodded.

  She was anxious to talk with him about their quarrel in her office. She'd known the moment he'd left this afternoon that she had to take the chance and open up to him. He couldn't read minds any more than she could. One of them had to start putting a few things on the table, and she didn't mean food.

  She watched him through the window, laughing and talking with those two nosey-Roseys from next door. They loved him. He made their column about once every six weeks, always in a favorable light. Come to think of it, they'd never mentioned his name in connection to a woman's.

  She heard her name, picked up the tray with the rice, fruit and cheese, and took it outside. Barry introduced her.

  Then he invited the ladies to join them for dinner.

  Courtney plastered a smile on her face.

  "You'll pay for this,” she said to him under her breath.

  "Trust me, babe. No one will pay for this. They'll write something nice."

  "They'd better.” She pulled out the other two chairs and flipped the cushions.

  * * * *

  Dinner turned out to be a pleasant affair. The ladies insisted on providing dessert. They'd been to the bakery and had the most decadent vanilla rum cake Courtney had ever tasted.

  The ladies talked and it was Barry they talked about. She took it all in, astonished that she knew so little about the man she'd somehow fallen in love with.

  Don't even start thinking that, Courtney, you hormonal dummy. Do you really think this will work out? You'll both scratch the itch then move on. Staying friends is going to be the trick.

  "He's never brought a lady friend home before,” commented Mrs. Watson.

  "She's not his lady friend, Dorothy. They do business together,” replied Mrs. Helms.

  "Of course they do, Shirley. Why shouldn't they have dinner together?"

  Barry broke into their conversation. “We have a new venture planned.” The ladies attention riveted to him as he told them about the Elizabethtowne series.

  "And Barry is going to test market a few photographs,” Courtney added. “We hope to have those available at Desert Moon in a few weeks. Please stop by and accept one as a gift."

  The ladies beamed at her.

  "Courtney just bought Orion Means’ place."

  The ladies became quite excited, touching each other's arms with fluttering hands.

  "There's such a history about that place! Did you find the secret staircase?"

  Courtney stared at Mrs. Watson. “A secret staircase? Really? I haven't found it."

  Mrs. Helms leaned forward. “And the tunnel. Don't forget the tunnel."

  "Tunnel?” Courtney wasn't sure if she were intrigued or not. She wasn't sure she wanted her house to have secrets.

  "Why, yes, dear. Mr. Means was quite the shady character. My great-grandfather had some unfortunate dealings with him."

  Barry laughed. “You mean Orion Means cheated him at cards?"

  "Precisely. The story that came down through my family says there's a secret treasure buried on the grounds."

  "But the story doesn't say where, does it?” Barry poured Mrs. Helms a bit more wine.

  "It wouldn't be a secret if someone knew, now would it, young man?"

  "I suppose not. Tell us more about the tunnel."

  Courtney kicked his ankle. The last thing she wanted was all this speculation. For one thing, what if it were true? Wouldn't that be lovely?

  She didn't think so.

  Mrs. Helms sipped her wine then settled back. Courtney groaned inwardly. She saw the signs of a storyteller getting ready to tell a good one. A good, long one.

  "Well, you know Orion Means was a gambler. He arrived in Nevada in the fall of 1889, just a month or two before the first of the snow fell."

  Courtney nodded. The winter of 1889-1890 was known as the “White Winter.” Almost one hundred inches of snow fell that winter. It had devastated the state.

  "Anyway, it was rumored that old Orion was a cohort of G.F. Colton. Supposedly, they were looking for gold. And supposedly, they found it. Only Means died under mysterious circumstances in 1896, just months before his erstwhile partner shouted ‘gold’ in Searchlight."

  Mrs. Watson leaned forward. “No one ever knew how Orion Means could afford to build that huge house. But all the workers were paid, generously and on time, every week."

  "You know, Shirley, I think I have some old pictures of that place.” Mrs. Helms tapped her chin thoughtfully. She looked at Courtney. “I'm sure I do, from the Prohibition Era. That's when the stories about the tunnel surfaced."

  "I'd love to see them!” Courtney smiled at her. Perhaps she'd even be abl
e to make copies of the old photos for a gallery. “Tell me, are you by any chance also members of the Historical Society?"

  The ladies laughed in unison.

  "Of course we are, dear. Barry didn't tell you a thing about us, did he?"

  Courtney fixed Barry with a baleful stare. “No. He didn't."

  The ladies mirthful laughter grew louder. Mrs. Helms patted her hand.

  "He didn't tell us about you either, but we know, don't we, Shirley?"

  "Of course. She's the one, finally. She'll handle our Barry."

  Courtney was speechless. Well and truly speechless. She looked at Barry.

  "Say something, McWaters."

  Barry grinned at her.

  Chapter 18

  It was after ten o'clock before the ladies departed. Courtney had to admit they were charming. She would have found their conversation totally delightful if she hadn't been so ... horny.

  And the object of her desire sat there unabashedly wooing those two octogenarians. It had taken her a while to see the humor of the situation.

  The first streetlights were coming on when Barry shifted his chair closer to hers and rested his hand on her thigh.

  The ladies thought it was sweet. Gentlemen couldn't do such a thing in their day unless it was with his wife and even then only in front of his closest adult family members.

  Courtney replied things hadn't changed that much and moved his hand to his own leg.

  The ladies thought she was amusing.

  Barry put his arm around her. They thought that was sweet, too.

  It was the empty wine bottle that finally got them to leave.

  Courtney sat on Barry's deck and watched him escort them across the short stretch of lawn and up their back steps. They didn't appear to need any help. The widows Helms and Watson were very spry for being seventy-nine and eighty-one, respectively.

  His escort duty completed, he bounded back up his steps and bent over to kiss her.

  "They're really something, aren't they?"

  She smiled up at him. “Yes, they certainly are. Do you think that bit about the house is true?"

  "I don't know. But let's look for evidence of hidden stairs, and tunnels, and buried treasure.” He twirled an imaginary moustache.

  "Oh, let's not.” She slipped her hand into his and he pulled her to her feet. “And you don't need to think that you're going to look on your own, bucko."

  "Party pooper. It's a fascinating idea, though.” He opened the door for her then switched off the deck lights as she stepped inside. “The buried treasure is probably the house itself."

  "I hope those two don't ask ‘guess who had an overnight house guest’ in their column."

  "Not a chance, babe. They know if they do that, I'll cut off the flow of information. They won't take a chance on that happening."

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What will you take a chance on, McWaters?"

  "Anything you offer me.” He cupped her bottom and lifted her onto the kitchen table before loading the dishwasher.

  "You're just so domestic. I'm impressed."

  He snorted. “If I don't do these four plates, you'll have nothing to eat breakfast on.” He added detergent and pushed the start button. “Okay, Courtney, what is it that's had you fidgeting all evening?"

  She really hated he could see her so clearly when he was such a mystery to her. Well, she might as well hit it, head on. Their night would likely be better if she did.

  "I'm so sorry I overreacted this afternoon."

  His eyebrow shot up. He ran those long, strong-looking fingers through his hair. She shivered, knowing what those clever fingers would be doing to her in a little while.

  "I thank you for that, babe, but I understand."

  "That's what bothers me, Barry. You do understand. You see more than I want anyone to see.” She hung her head for a moment then looked back up at him. “I let my pride dictate my actions and I suffered for it. My marriage was in shambles beginning with the honeymoon.” She took a deep breath. “I won't let my pride ruin what's happening between us. I'd like it very much if you'd make the carriage house your studio, rent free, for as long as you want."

  He stared at her silently for what seemed like an eternity. She hopped off the table and went up to him.

  "Say something, McWaters."

  "I accept."

  "But..."

  "I was hoping you'd suggest a wee bit more than that."

  She took a quick, short breath and tossed her head to settle her hair off her face. Barry reached out and tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

  "Listen, Barry, I'm not even living there yet. There's no kitchen to speak of. There's only one working bathroom and that needs remodeling. I don't have a roof to offer to share with you yet."

  "Is that the only reason you didn't mention it?"

  "If I lose my temper and kick you, you'll just stand there and take it, McWaters!"

  He grinned at her. A big, insolent, male grin. “You can't fool me. You do want me."

  "I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!” she yelled at him.

  "Did you yell at Waynie-boy like that?"

  "No! And fuck you!"

  He turned off the kitchen lights and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the hallway. “I'll start cleaning the carriage house out tomorrow afternoon. Where do you want me to put the stuff?"

  "Oh, McWaters, don't leave me an opening like that,” she said smoothly. He chuckled and led her into his bedroom.

  "Now, now, babe. Be nice.” He pulled her into his arms. “Okay, in all seriousness. I'm very happy to accept the offer of the carriage house. I'm more than happy you're even thinking about us living together. I'm delirious, in fact."

  "Yeah? Well, why I am suddenly not so sure?"

  He hugged her tighter. “We're going slow, remember?"

  "This is slow?” she asked as he yanked her tank top over her head.

  "Stop being scared of a future with me, Courtney. There's no reason to be."

  She buried her face in the center of his chest. Damn, he smelled good. All that musky, woodsy, spicy scent couldn't be just the Old Spice.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn't need to be frightened of a future with him, not when that future meant him holding her every night. She pulled his mouth down to hers. The taste of the wine lingered on his lips.

  The change in him was swift. He lifted her, taking the last few steps to the bed, tumbling them down onto the soft mattress. His lips found hers again. His hands were busy everywhere. His nimble fingers worked quickly, divesting her of the rest of her clothing. She tried to keep up with him but the snap on his jeans refused to open. Their fingers warred. The snap opened and she pulled his zipper down and slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers.

  He was fully erect, a hard core sheathed in silky soft skin. Her innermost flesh contracted, raining down her desire as his hand cupped her heat. He slipped two fingers inside her, a long, low groan rumbling out from him. Her pulse soared.

  He made the sound again. It was so purely male, she squirmed against his hand. He responded with an upward pressure. The ache inside her grew. She clamped her thighs tightly around his hand, wanting any kind of relief for the insistent throbbing at her center. His thumb found the right spot and applied a gentle, rolling pressure.

  She sank her teeth into the soft skin of his shoulder to keep from screaming. Her heartbeat matched the pounding inside her belly.

  "Slow, darling. Slow.” His hand slipped away from her. She clutched at him, wanting to drag him back to her. His mouth found her peaked nipple and suckled. She ached and she knew what to do. She slipped her middle finger into her damp curls.

  "That's cheating, baby.” His voice was low and strained at her ear. And amused, too.

  Damn him, anyway. She applied more pressure and the sensations ballooned outward. His hand covered hers, stilling her tiny movements.

  "I want to be inside you when you come,” he whispered hoarsely
in her ear.

  "Then hurry!” Her voice sounded strange in her own ears, miles away and echoing.

  His knees pushed her thighs far apart. Blessed cooler air teased at her damp flesh. His hips rested against hers. He slipped the first inch into her. Her hips jerked up, bringing him closer to her need.

  "Barry!"

  He drove into her, gliding on her liquid welcome. She arched up to him. Her legs rose and locked around his waist. He withdrew, only to bury himself fully once more. She reveled in the feel of his body opening hers, again and again until the breath stuck in her throat. Her thighs tensed and quivered. She needed to take him deeper. Her hips lifted. He surged forward. She soared upward, aware of only her body clenched around his shaft. The world spun as her climax seized her, shrieking through her in never-ending waves of ecstasy.

  She slowly became aware of a low keening then realized she was making that sound. The rapture faded and she was suddenly back in her body. She fisted her hands in Barry's hair. His lips trailed kisses up her neck on a path to roughly claim her mouth. He inhaled sharply and thrust ruthlessly into her. He shuddered then slammed into her again.

  She clung to him, letting him take her as he needed, while his orgasm overtook him. He jerked into her, then again. His body pulsed strongly inside her. If he'd been a smaller man, she'd never have felt it. Her legs dropped back to the mattress.

  He suddenly sucked in a great lungful of air and slid quickly off her. She mourned the loss of their connection. Her thighs ached wonderfully from his onslaught, refusing to move when she tried to roll on her side toward him. He opened his eyes and grinned at her.

  "You're looking rather mussed, Ms. Nichols."

  "Do tell.” Her gaze flicked down to his hands, carefully tending to the matter of the used condom. “You wouldn't make it to the cover of a magazine either, right now."

  "I didn't say you weren't absolutely beautiful, babe. I like the ‘mussed’ look on you this time of night."

  She rolled her eyes at him. He rolled toward her and they settled together in the center of the bed. He tipped her chin up, kissing her so softly, her eyes burned behind closed lids. He broke off the kiss and rested his forehead to hers.