running shorts followed.
Needing more of his warmth and to feel the strength of his powerful body, she arched into him and pulled him closer until nothing separated them. They lay chest to chest, belly to belly. She thrilled at the hard, throbbing response she’d aroused in him, gloried in the moist heat that greeted his exploration of the place where her thighs met.
“What else, Luc?”
As her legs trapped his hand in a fierce embrace, he replied in words she had no hope of understanding, but whose meaning came through clearly in the want and need vibrating in his voice. She gripped his hips and pressed her heated mound against his arousal in a silent plea for more . He slipped his hands beneath her, lifting her buttocks and arching her body into his, letting her feel the full measure of his strength.
Heedless of every promise he’d made to keep his distance, Luc succumbed finally to their mutual need. “Will you come with me, querida ?”
Callie gasped. “Yes. Por Dios , yes.”
Luc chuckled at her first words in his language. He parted her legs, then remembered. “I have no protection, my love.”
“I’m protected,” she said with something like a groan.
“Patience, mi vida .”
“Patience, my fanny.” Grinning wickedly, she twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. “I’ve had patience. I’ve run out.”
He laughed with joy as she bracketed his hips with her legs. Just then, a fist pounded on the front door, bringing their lovemaking to a heart-stopping, mind-numbing halt. A gravelly voice shouted something unintelligible seconds before heavy boots crossed the veranda and thumped down the steps.
Callie slipped on a caftan and dashed downstairs. By the time she opened the door the intruder was gone. In his wake, he'd left a reminder of his presence with a can of spray paint. TRAMP! he'd written. LEAVE THIS VALLEY — NOW! A trail of paint at the bottom of the exclamation point faded out like the disappearing tail of a comet.
Shocked by the inscription, Callie hunkered down to stare at the words. She rested her arms on her thighs and clasped her hands in front of her. Once before an even more vicious version of that word had been flung at her. Unjust though it had been, it had sent her running all the same. She didn't want to fold again, but the graffiti stung. Who hated her this much?
Chilled from either the unresolved emotions she and Luc had aroused or the anonymous attack, she wrapped her arms around herself.
At her side now, Luc followed her gaze. "Don't let this get to you." He slipped his arm across her shoulders. "It's some dumb kid, Callie, that's all. Some adolescent with a sick sense of humor."
"When was the last time you saw kids around here?" He remained silent. "Whoever did this knew you were here and used that fact to harass me, hoping to drive me out. Smashing windows didn't work. Or wrecking the scaffolding. Maybe they thought getting personal would."
"Will it?"
She shook her head. "Can you do anything to stop him? Or her?" She examined his face with narrowed eyes. Her mouth compressed into a thin line. "Do you want to?"
He looked her squarely in the eye. "I'll say it again — if I didn't want to help I wouldn't be here. I thought my presence would keep the culprit away. The storm handed us a bad break. Next time will be different."
"Maybe." She rubbed her arms to get her circulation going. "It's cold. I'm going inside to change."
"I'll look around for anything that might help."
By the time Callie had dressed and come back down to the kitchen, Luc had returned with a plastic evidence bag containing one small object.
"Take a look."
She examined the bag beneath the ceiling fixture. "Is that the nozzle from a paint can?"
"I don't think we can get a print. It's too small, but if the color is the same, we can try for a match to the can our friend used."
"How does that help?"
"I'll check around, try to determine where it was bought and by whom."
"I want to
Needing more of his warmth and to feel the strength of his powerful body, she arched into him and pulled him closer until nothing separated them. They lay chest to chest, belly to belly. She thrilled at the hard, throbbing response she’d aroused in him, gloried in the moist heat that greeted his exploration of the place where her thighs met.
“What else, Luc?”
As her legs trapped his hand in a fierce embrace, he replied in words she had no hope of understanding, but whose meaning came through clearly in the want and need vibrating in his voice. She gripped his hips and pressed her heated mound against his arousal in a silent plea for more . He slipped his hands beneath her, lifting her buttocks and arching her body into his, letting her feel the full measure of his strength.
Heedless of every promise he’d made to keep his distance, Luc succumbed finally to their mutual need. “Will you come with me, querida ?”
Callie gasped. “Yes. Por Dios , yes.”
Luc chuckled at her first words in his language. He parted her legs, then remembered. “I have no protection, my love.”
“I’m protected,” she said with something like a groan.
“Patience, mi vida .”
“Patience, my fanny.” Grinning wickedly, she twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. “I’ve had patience. I’ve run out.”
He laughed with joy as she bracketed his hips with her legs. Just then, a fist pounded on the front door, bringing their lovemaking to a heart-stopping, mind-numbing halt. A gravelly voice shouted something unintelligible seconds before heavy boots crossed the veranda and thumped down the steps.
Callie slipped on a caftan and dashed downstairs. By the time she opened the door the intruder was gone. In his wake, he'd left a reminder of his presence with a can of spray paint. TRAMP! he'd written. LEAVE THIS VALLEY — NOW! A trail of paint at the bottom of the exclamation point faded out like the disappearing tail of a comet.
Shocked by the inscription, Callie hunkered down to stare at the words. She rested her arms on her thighs and clasped her hands in front of her. Once before an even more vicious version of that word had been flung at her. Unjust though it had been, it had sent her running all the same. She didn't want to fold again, but the graffiti stung. Who hated her this much?
Chilled from either the unresolved emotions she and Luc had aroused or the anonymous attack, she wrapped her arms around herself.
At her side now, Luc followed her gaze. "Don't let this get to you." He slipped his arm across her shoulders. "It's some dumb kid, Callie, that's all. Some adolescent with a sick sense of humor."
"When was the last time you saw kids around here?" He remained silent. "Whoever did this knew you were here and used that fact to harass me, hoping to drive me out. Smashing windows didn't work. Or wrecking the scaffolding. Maybe they thought getting personal would."
"Will it?"
She shook her head. "Can you do anything to stop him? Or her?" She examined his face with narrowed eyes. Her mouth compressed into a thin line. "Do you want to?"
He looked her squarely in the eye. "I'll say it again — if I didn't want to help I wouldn't be here. I thought my presence would keep the culprit away. The storm handed us a bad break. Next time will be different."
"Maybe." She rubbed her arms to get her circulation going. "It's cold. I'm going inside to change."
"I'll look around for anything that might help."
By the time Callie had dressed and come back down to the kitchen, Luc had returned with a plastic evidence bag containing one small object.
"Take a look."
She examined the bag beneath the ceiling fixture. "Is that the nozzle from a paint can?"
"I don't think we can get a print. It's too small, but if the color is the same, we can try for a match to the can our friend used."
"How does that help?"
"I'll check around, try to determine where it was bought and by whom."
"I want to
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