MM01 - Valley of Fire by Peggy Webb Page B

with satisfaction that his weight strained the knot she'd tied over her shoulder and flattened the sheet against her breasts.
    There was nothing Martha Ann Riley could do to make herself unattractive. Still, he was flattered that she'd bothered to try. It meant she was having a hard time resisting him. And that's just the way he liked it.
    “Do you mind if I watch? This kind of work fascinates me.”
    “Of course not.”
    Was there nothing that would discourage this man, she wondered. She pushed the wretched needle through the stubborn canvas and tangled a knot as big as Texas. When she tried to untangle it, it got even bigger.
    She wished Rick wouldn't sit so close. She wished he wasn't so attractive. She wished she didn't like wicked men.
    “Here. Let me.” He took the canvas from her and deftly untangled the knot. Then he stuck the needle neatly into the cloth and handed it to her. “That's an intriguing pattern, butterflies and daisies. What are you making?”
    “Booties.”
    “Booties?” He didn't bother to hide his laughter.
    “Yes. For Michael.”
    “Who's Michael?”
    “The baby.”
    “Of course.” He patted her flat stomach and then didn't bother to move his hand. “How could I forget the baby?”
    That big suntanned hand on the flowered sheet sent heat waves through her body. She tried to concentrate on her sewing but only succeeded in tangling another knot.
    Without a word he took the canvas and began to straighten it out again. “Needlepointed booties. With daisies and butterflies. Don't you think Michael might be embarrassed to wear them to the nursery?”
    “He's going to be an unusual baby.”
    Rick patted her stomach and grinned. “He's definitely an unusual baby.”
    “He's going to take after his father, Lucky the Gambler.”
    “I think he's more likely to take after his mother, Martha Ann the actress.”
    “Actress?”
    “Yes. You're the mistress of pretense, and I love every minute of it.” He reached across her, scooped up the thread, and dumped it on the bedside table.
    Then he lifted the needlepoint canvas out of her hands and dropped it on top of the thread.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I felt a sudden desire for a facial.”
    With one swift move he lay down beside her and pulled her on top of him. His hands cupped her face and brought it down to his. The cold cream made their lips slick. It only enhanced their passion.
    “Hmmmm, delicious,” he said.
    He rubbed his cheek against hers, slicking his face and nose with cream. Holding her face between his hands, he nibbled her earlobe and planted hot kisses down the side of her throat.
    The knot loosened, and her sheet slipped down, baring her chest. His tongue traced the tops of her breasts.
    “Please,” she whispered.
    “Happy to oblige.” He rolled over, taking her with him. Her hair was tousled, and her blue eyes were enormous. The cold cream was now divided equally between them, leaving her with only a slight sheen on her face.
    Sexy, he thought. There was nothing sexier than a naked, fresh-faced woman in a sheet.
    He took her mouth again. She wrapped her arms around him and their passion spiraled.
    “Just to... show you... that... nothing... can... discourage me.” He spoke between kisses.
    “Just so... you... know... that... I'm merely... obliging... because I'm... too much... of a lady... to fight.” Her fingernails dug into his back. The rhythm of her hips teased him.
    “In that case...” He lifted his head and gazed down at her. That black hair spread across the pillow, and those enormous blue eyes were almost his undoing. “...we might as well make this good.”
    They kissed until their lips felt bruised and puffy. Finally Rick lifted his head and smiled down at her.
    “You do your best acting in bed, my pet.”
    “But I don't do curtain calls.”
    She smoothed her hair and pulled at her sheet. She was lying, of course. She'd do curtain calls all night with Rick McGill. He was that kind of man, and she was