Never Give You Up. Shady Grace
Instead, she grabbed a bottle of rum, put on her favorite jazz CD, and settled onto the chair beside the living room window.
With the beautiful view of the wilderness around her home, Mary sipped her drink and stared outside, until the jagged tips of the surrounding mountains no longer felt like her prison guards.
* * * *
A cool blast of air whipped her hair about. Evergreen and poplar branches swayed in the wind. A mountain fresh scent filled the swirling air.
She glanced up at the pale blue sky, wondering if Tom was staring down at her with his ever-present scowl. What would he think of her now, surviving without him?
One of the dogs wined, followed by a long, low howl from the others. To anyone else it may have sounded like a pack of wolves lingering nearby. To Mary the sound was eerie and beautiful.
She paused along her trek by the river. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled.
A familiar hum resounded through the mountain range.
Her eyes widened as that all-too-familiar black chopper crested the nearest mountain peak.
Oh God. Not him.
She made a mad dash for the house, hoping to have a few minutes to do something reasonable with herself. Maybe put half a face on, or powder her puff. Thank God she had power and running water out here on this side of the mountain.
Time to play.
She tossed her hat and coat somewhere near the hallway table and ran into the bathroom. Quickly, she washed her hands and set out to fix herself up, excited yet angry that her unexpected guest could be a tall blond man with dangerous blue eyes. If it was him she’d slap the crooked grin right off his sexy face. Since Tom’s death, the handsome criminal couldn’t seem to leave her alone.
The dogs barked with excitement. Mary’s hands shook as she removed her clips, whipped her shoulder-length hair about and clouded her head with hairspray. She applied some concealer and powder, pinched her cheeks, and rushed to the back door just in time as the unmarked chopper set down in the clearing on the other side of her driveway.
Frozen in the back door, Mary watched, transfixed, as the passenger door to the chopper opened. He stepped down, tall and lithe, dressed in a black leather bomber and blue jeans. He hunched low to avoid the blades whirling above his head, his golden hair whipping around as he came toward her with intent, with dark purpose, eyes flashing deep sexual desires. She should step back and lock the door. She should grab her rifle.
But she couldn’t.
There was something about him that made her stand there like a nervous fool, unable to tell him to leave her alone.
Since his last visit, her dreams had been plagued with hot, sweaty nights, naked in his arms. She’d awaken with her fingers between her legs, shrieking in delightful orgasm or on the very edge, it tormented her all day. Her cheeks heated as he slowed his pace and took the first step at the back door.
“Hello, Mary.”
His voice. His voice did things to her insides that should be punishable by law. Maybe he had a handful of women waiting to please him back in the city. Maybe he had all the wrong intentions.
Today she didn’t care.
She’d been through too much to care about anything but feeling something good. Something tangible.
Without a word, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and yanked him into the doorway. If he was surprised by her actions he didn’t say anything, didn’t pull away. His lips felt like wicked perfection against hers, as she forced him to give her what she wanted.
Her heart lurched as his strong arms went around her, crowding her against the doorframe. The sturdy wood pressed against her back painfully, but she didn’t care. Not when his hot mouth made her tremble and burn under his searing touch.
Fast and frenzied, they backed into the house. The screen door banged against the frame. Terry trapped her between the hallway wall and his hard body, and when Mary felt his erection press against her abdomen, she boldly reached down and stroked him over his jeans.
“Mmmm,” he moaned, and rocked into her hand.
“Yes,” she moaned, excited and surprised by how large he felt in her hot grip. “Give it to me.”
Without finesse, Mary unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out, eagerly dropping to her knees and took his bulbous head into her mouth—
A loud knock rapped on the back door.
Mary jerked up in bed and blinked from the bright beam of light shining through the bedroom window, and looked around in stunned delirium.
Panting, she ripped her fingers away from between drenched lips, painfully close to orgasm, and sucked in a shuddering breath.
Jesus Christ.
Another loud knock pounded the door, followed by a few more. She rubbed her head and groaned, the knocking right on her fragile skull.
How did I get to bed? The last thing she remembered was crying at the window after polishing off half a bottle of rum.
In her dazed and flustered state, she whipped her legs over the side of the bed and shouted, “Who is it?”
“It’s Gabe. Are you awake?”
I am now you son of a—“Yes! Just a minute.”
With an unladylike curse, Mary plodded across the chilly wooden floor and grabbed her housecoat from the hook by the door. Still in an aroused yet angry state, she made her way to the back door and yanked it open.
“What do you want?” She tried to control her heaving chest.
Gabe raised a teasing brow. “What, no hello?”
She folded her arms over her bust and glared at him. “Hello. Now what do you want?”
With a casual shrug and a disarming grin, Gabe brushed past her, into the hallway toward the kitchen, as if he had a share in the property. “I thought I’d swing by and check up on you. Good thing I did. You smell like a pub. Everything okay with you?”
Mary made a face behind his back and shut the door. She tightened the sash of her robe and followed him into the kitchen, annoyed by his horrible timing, yet grateful when he saved her the trouble of having to make coffee.
“I’m lovely. Where’s Mima?”
“At home,” he said over his shoulder.
Curious to the strange visit, Mary took a seat at the kitchen table and watched in tired silence as he patiently waited for the brew then fixed each of them a steamy cup. Apparently his untimely visit needed coffee before more words were exchanged. She was okay with it, for now.
Mary eyed him up as he puttered around. Gabe may have swept her best friend off her tough feet, but Mary still felt awkward around him, even when he came by with Mima to help with some of the more difficult tasks Tom used to handle. Gabe may be somewhat of a decent man and wouldn’t harm her, there was still something about him she couldn’t trust, and it had nothing to do with who he was, but what he did.
Her life had drastically changed when he crashed his plane into their woods. Sometimes she wondered if Gabriel Miller pushed her husband into the freezing Athabasca River. It made no sense that a strong man like Tom, who lived in the woods for thirty years, would drown so easily.
She eyed him with mixed emotions as he spooned cream and sugar into his mug and lifted it close to his lips. “How’ve you been lately? I haven’t had the chance to swing by in a while.” His expression turned more serious. “Mima had to put one of the dogs down. She’s not in the best of moods.”
He sipped his coffee and absently glanced around the room.
Mary’s heart ached for her friend, knowing those dogs were like children to Mima, as Mary’s were to her. “Poor girl. Which one had