Cupid’s Confederates

this morning, full of laughter. He hadn’t seen quite that look in her eyes in nearly a month, and he wasn’t about to let her go that quickly.

“Listen, Buster. If you get grease on this white sweatshirt, my mother-”

“Will have something to do besides starch my work shirts.” His lips closed on hers swiftly, and lingered until Bett’s hands slowly crept around his waist to hang on.

He liked the feel of her arms around him, and he liked the feel of her pelvis cradled directly between his thighs. He didn’t much like the feel of lip gloss over the smooth natural texture of Bett’s own lips. He drew back just a little to look at her. Bett’s skin was as soft as a baby’s, skin that begged to be touched. The eye makeup did sexy things for her eyes, but he just couldn’t understand why she wanted to hide her natural softness under a layer of… crud.

“You’re staring,” Bett murmured.

“Probably.”

“You don’t like what you see?” The question was teasing, but Bett suddenly looked as vulnerable as a kitten.

“I always like what I see.” To hell with it. He was hardly going to say the wrong thing and risk hurting her. It was her business, if she wanted to wear a little paint.

He was in the mood to wear Bett. To pull her on, tuck her in close and button her up inside of him. Quickies seemed to be all they had the time or energy for these past few weeks since Elizabeth had been there. And when they did catch a private moment in bed, his wife was always worrying that her mother would pop her insomniac head through the bedroom door. Bett’s willingness to make love was unchanged, but Zach could sense her distraction. He understood just fine…and for three minutes of real privacy with her, he would willingly have auctioned off portions of his soul. Cheap.

“Zach.” Bett tried to pull away. “There’s a truck due-”

“If you move even an inch, you’ll have greasy fingerprints all over your shirt,” he murmured.

True. Bett obediently stood still, offering up her most mischievous smile. She pressed closer to him, since that was obviously what he wanted, and then weaved her hips just a little, a motion she’d learned in the single belly- dancing class she’d conned the girls in the dorm into investing in, about a thousand years ago.

Zach sucked in his breath. His chin nudged aside her hair, exposing a spot on her neck for his lips to explore. Come to think of it, he’d always been partial to that vulnerable spot just below her ear. Probably because she inevitably shivered when he kissed her there.

Her arms tightened around him and she raised up on tiptoe, rubbing deliberately against him, teasing the tips of her breasts against his starched shirt. Inside the stiff collar of his work shirt-the so very stiff collar-she tested a puppy-soft tongue. Just a little lick. His skin was sun-warmed and faintly salty; she could smell the earth they both worked on and loved. The man-smell was underneath that. That certain musky scent and nakedness were inextricably linked in her mind. She lifted up on tiptoe again, arching against him, her hips suggesting a familiar rhythm.

She could sense more than see Zach’s hands lift to hold her, and hesitate. “Do that again,” he murmured next to her ear, “and watch how fast you get taken on the floor of the barn.”

Her sparkling eyes met his. “You think I’d object?”

“I think your fanny would.”

She peered over her shoulder at the subject under discussion. “It doesn’t object.”

The chuckle rumbled from his throat at the same time that his teeth nipped at the curve of her shoulder. “You just told me twice that Caruso was coming. Now, behave.”

“You’re not behaving. Why should I?”

“I don’t feel like behaving. I feel like…”

She got the message. The look in his eyes was X-rated. The next kiss was delicious. Zach kissed dry; she’d never liked wet lips. She liked smooth, warm, dry lips pressed directly on hers, followed by that sudden wet warmth when tongue touched tongue. “You’ve been in the honey,” he murmured, and went down to kiss her again.

When he surfaced for air, Bett was trembling and no longer smiling. It was ridiculous, really, after all this time to still feel the same wild reaction to the touch of him. The shudders didn’t actually touch her skin; it was all inside. A weak-kneed feeling that it was better to lie down, that it was really an ideal time to lie down and feel the warm, welcome weight of Zach on top of her. His devilish eyes were communicating the same message.

She drew back an inch. He drew back an inch.

“We could always meet on the floor of the barn about two hours from now,” he said vibrantly, releasing her.

She chuckled. “You want help loading the truck?”

“What I want is for you to visit China immediately so that I don’t have to be embarrassed when the truck driver gets here.”

She glanced down at his pants. “You’re blaming me for that?”

“A hundred percent.”

“Most unreasonable. All I did was innocently walk in here, and…Zach?” As she was about to go out the door, she turned to him, and hesitated suddenly. She hadn’t really come out here to tell him about the truck. She’d come out here just to…talk to him, but now the words seemed to jumble in her throat. “Everything’s…all right, isn’t it?”

He frowned slightly, cocking his head. “Like what?”

“Like…things.” Bett hooked her fingertips in her pockets, staring at a spot just past his shoulders. “Look, I know I haven’t been pulling my weight since Mom’s been here…” Haven’t you missed me working next to you? Haven’t you needed me next to you? “And the house, everything’s so different. I know you must be bothered by certain changes, and I…” Maybe it wasn’t driving him crazy to the extent that it was her, but surely he was annoyed by the starched shirts and the salmon? “We’ve barely had time together.” She bit her lip. “And my mother…”

Zach was beside her in three long strides, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t be foolish,” he said roughly. “None of that matters. I’m not complaining, two bits. Have you heard me say one word?”

“No,” she admitted with a little laugh.

The laugh was hollow, not what he was expecting, and Zach frowned as she turned away. He knew she was making a massive effort to keep her mother’s mind off Chet; she was doing a terrific job of it. Bett had a priority in her life that for a time had to partially exclude him; he understood that. He’d wanted very much to reassure her… but the smile he’d expected to light up her face wasn’t there. That instant before she’d turned away, Bett had suddenly looked terribly unhappy. It didn’t make sense.

***

Zach banged three times on Grady’s dilapidated screen door, then let himself in, taking the three steps up into the old farm kitchen.

“Who is it?” called Grady’s gruff voice.

“Zach.”

“Be with you in a minute.”

Zach tossed his cap onto the old oak table and dropped into a chair, stretching out his legs. His eyes scanned the room, from the mound of unwashed dishes in the sink to the row of hats piled on the far counter. The place was far from spotless, and very comfortable. A place where a man didn’t feel like he’d committed a mortal sin for having dusty work boots.

“What’s new?” Grady loped through the doorway, hitching up his trousers as he glanced around for his pipe.

“Nothing.”

“Want some coffee?”

“Have you got a beer?”

Grady’s bushy eyebrows lifted just a little, but he opened the refrigerator and brought out a can of beer. He set it in front of Zach, who picked it up but left it unopened.

“I’ve spent the entire lunch hour,” Zach remarked, “listening to the story of Mildred Riley’s life.”