All of Me Read online

  She raised her head. “Tuck?”

  He turned, looked at her. “Yeah?”

  “It’s nothing personal, you know. You’re a great guy. I’m sure of it.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Queenie.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  A smiled curled his lips. “Because you look so damned regal. So untouchable.”

  “The Ice Queen,” she said, thinking about what her fellow lawyers said about her.

  “Oh no, Queenie,” he said. “You’re regal as hell, but try as hard as you might to convince people otherwise, there ain’t nothing cold about you.”

  “SO JILLIAN IS TUCK’S temptress, huh?” Evie said to Ridley when they got home from the Rusty Nail just after ten o’clock.

  “Yes, but don’t tell him that I told you about his vision quest. He’d be upset. He didn’t like telling me that he’d had a sexual fantasy about someone other than Aimee.”

  Evie unbuttoned her blouse. “I like her, but she’s nothing like Aimee.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Ridley asked, trailing her from the kitchen into their bedroom.

  “I’m just saying she’s not Tuck’s normal type.” Evie stripped off her blue jeans and paraded over to the toilet.

  It still threw Ridley for a loop when she went to the bathroom in front of him. It wasn’t that he minded. He liked seeing her naked anytime he could. He’d just grown up in a family that was very private about their bodies. When they’d first hooked up, the uninhibited way Evie shed her clothes both thrilled and shocked him. He wondered if they were going to have issues over nudity when they had kids or if becoming a mom would change her. Did he like the idea of her changing, or not? Honestly, the whole baby thing unnerved him. He wanted one, yeah, but the reality of it had him quaking in his boots.

  Ridley stepped to the sink and wet his toothbrush. “Tuck believes she’s a jinx.”

  “That’s because you told him she was.” Evie peeled off several squares of toilet paper.

  “Hey, go easy on that stuff,” he said. “With what the fertility treatments are costing us, we gotta cut every corner.”

  “Ridley, are you seriously suggesting that a couple of extra squares of toilet paper are going to put us in the poor house?” She flushed, then came over to elbow him away from the sink so she could wash her hands.

  Sometimes it bugged him the way she encroached on his space, and he had to remind himself she grew up in the second position in a family with four kids, while it had been just him and his older brother. She was accustomed to having to jockey for everything she got in life, while Ridley, as the youngest of two, had pretty much had everything handed to him.

  “You know, I was really prepared not to like her.” Evie lathered her hands with peach-scented liquid soap. Little orange bubbles floated in the air between them. Ridley noticed how small and yet incredibly strong her fingers were—all that kneading and chopping and slicing. “And not because of all that jinx stuff. But you know what? I actually think she might be good for him.”

  “You’re not worried he’ll fall for her and she’ll hurt your brother?” Ridley mouthed around his toothbrush, and kept brushing long past the point he was ready to rinse, waiting for Evie to move away from the sink.

  His wife dried her hands on a peach-colored towel. “Honestly, I don’t think he could get any worse than falling into Salvation Lake on the anniversary of Aimee’s death. And she is so not Tuck’s type—he likes them petite and sweet. I don’t think there’s much danger he’ll fall in love with Jillian.”

  Ridley spit and rinsed. “So you did see the sizzle. There’s megawatt sexual tension between those two.”

  “Oh yeah, they’ve got chemistry, but that’s good. Hot sex is all he needs right now. The man’s been celibate for two years. He could do a lot worse than Jillian as his transitional woman, but I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

  “I don’t know,” Ridley mumbled, feeling decidedly uneasy. “From everything I know about vision quests, she’s either a temptress whose going to be his ruination or she’s his destiny.”

  “You’re reading too much into that vision stuff.”

  “Don’t discount what you can’t understand.”

  Evie sank her hands on her hips. “Did you do a vision quest when you met me?”

  Ridley shrugged. His wife had that pick-a-fight look on her face and a pugilistic set to her shoulders. “Did you lock the back door?” he hedged.

  “You did!”

  He shook his head.

  She advanced on him.

  Grinning, Ridley backed up until his butt hit the bathroom wall. She looked so beautiful all naked and fiery eyed. “Come on, tell me. What did you see?”

  “I saw a woman with the most amazing red hair.” He reached out to twist a lock of her hair around his thumb. “And she was passionately whipping up a batch of the most delicious biscuits. I could taste them in the vision. Buttery, light, and flaky. I knew a woman who could make biscuits like that had to be an angel. I fell instantly in love.”

  “With me,” she whispered.

  “With the biscuits. You were just a side bonus.”

  “Ridley James Red Deer.” She playfully swatted his shoulder. “What an awful thing to say to the woman who’s going to be the mother of your children.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, shouldn’t we be working on making babies instead of standing here talking?” He snaked a hand around her waist and lifted her up into his arms.

  “My big strong Indian brave.” She sighed into his chest.

  He took her mouth, kissing her firmly yet tenderly, letting her know just how much she meant to him. Things had been a little tense between them lately, and he wanted to sweep all that pressure away and just enjoy sex the way they used to before all the fertility treatments and ovulation charts.

  Evie let loose a needy moan, and he carried her into their bedroom. His tongue swept her sweet, sweet mouth as he laid her down on the soft mattress. Blood rushed pell-mell to his cock, turning him to stone. God, he was hard for her.

  She tasted so good. Better than the awesome biscuits she baked. He loved how petite she felt beside his bigness, how smooth she was to his roughness.

  Two people couldn’t be more opposite. He was a Native American man from the mountains. She was from an educated urban family. He’d gone to school on a reservation. She’d trained in Paris. While he was learning to hunt and fish and live off the land, she was speaking French and turning the simplest ingredients into elaborate meals. She was bossy; he was born to help. She was direct; he was oblique. She was fire. He was water.

  And yet, in spite of their differences, they made it work. Who knew? Maybe it worked because of their differences. They had their ups and downs, sure, but they never got bored.

  She wound her arms around his neck, and a shiver shot down his spine. His fiery woman made him burn. She peered into his eyes with a look that was pure Evie. “Take me, big man.”

  And so he did.

  Thirty minutes later, they lay together, letting their ragged breathing return to normal. Evie rested her head on his chest. “Have you done a vision quest about our baby?”

  Ridley hesitated, not wanting to get into this, but Evie was having none of his silence. She raised up on one elbow and looked down at him. “Rid?”

  He sighed and put a hand over his eyes. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He cleared his throat and reached over to idly stroke her bare breast with the back of his finger, hoping to distract her, but she had the focus of a border collie herding sheep.

  “Well?”

  “I’m afraid of what I might see.”

  “Or not see.” Her voice was serious.

  “Yeah,” he admitted.

  “I want to go on a vision quest,” she said.

  Oh crap, what had he gotten himself into? “It’s not that simple, Evie. You’ve got to believe in it for a vision quest to give you the guidance you’re looking for. And it�
�s not like magic. It doesn’t make you psychic or foretell the future. You just see images, have dreams that guide you to make decisions.”

  “You sent Tuck on a vision quest without any hesitation.”

  “That was different. Tuck was desperate. And he had an open mind.”

  Evie sat up. “I’m desperate to know if we’re going to have any children.”

  “Evie, we’re gonna have kids, one way or another.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “If we have to adopt, we will.”

  “I want my own kids,” she whispered. “Our kids. I want to know what it feels like to be pregnant.”

  “Come on, you know you’d love an adopted child just as much as you’d love a biological one. You’ve got so much love to give, Evie.”

  “You’re right, but still, I want to try. I want the full experience.”

  Ridley blew out his breath. “That’s another reason I don’t want you to go on a vision quest. I don’t know if you could handle it if you didn’t get the message you’re searching for, and I can’t bear seeing you hurt.”

  “I’m hurting now.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re being stubborn about this.”

  “Maybe, but this is my spiritual practice, and you have to respect that. It’s not a parlor trick.” Glaring, he sat up. “You have to respect it.”

  “I can, I will, I promise, if you’ll just go on a vision quest with me,” she pleaded.

  He hated to deny her, but it wasn’t that simple. If she didn’t see anything, she’d be disappointed. If she saw something that told her they couldn’t have their own kids, she’d be crushed. He had to be the bad guy here, for her peace of mind. “I’m sorry, Evie. The answer is no.”

  “No?” Her voice quavered, full of tears. Damn those hormones that could change her mood so quickly.

  “That’s right,” he said as calmly as he could. His inclination was to give in, but he had to stand his ground. “No.”

  “I’m not sure I can be around you right now.”

  “I accept your anger. It’s healthy.”

  “Good, you can accept it on the couch.” She shoved a pillow at him. He knew she was just reacting to her fears, but still a man had only so much patience. “Go sleep on the couch. And you can sleep there until you agree to guide me on a vision quest.”

  Ridley jerked back the covers, stormed to his feet, and jammed the pillow under his arm. “Fine, but I’ve got to tell you that banishing me to the couch is certainly not the way to get the babies you want.”

  He slammed the bedroom door behind him and heard her burst into tears.

  It was in his nature to go back inside, wrap his arms around her, tell her that he was sorry and that he’d do what she wanted. But on this matter, he knew he couldn’t give in.

  Not just for his sake, but for Evie’s as well.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All right, all right, she was going to stop thinking about Tuck. Right here, right now. No more fantasies about him or that kiss.

  Determinedly, Jillian sucked in her breath, dropped her purse into the bottom drawer of Sutter’s antique desk, and plunked down into the rolling leather chair. She reached up to run her fingertips over her lips, trying to recapture the feel of Tuck’s mouth on hers from the night before.

  Great, you can’t go two minutes without thinking about him.

  Hell, she’d lain awake all night thinking about him.

  Stop thinking about him. Now!

  Right, right. Head in the game. Purposefully, she straightened the stack of papers in the in-box that didn’t need straightening, looked up, and spied the ladder she’d moved to the corner yesterday while cleaning up the mess from Tuck’s fall through the ceiling.

  Immediately, she thought of Tuck and how he’d looked standing on that ladder.

  Stop it.

  She turned on her laptop and slid another glance at the ladder. She could smell Tuck’s scent in the room. Outdoorsy and masculine, mingling with the musty smell of old house and water-damaged Sheetrock.

  It’s just your imagination. You can’t smell him.

  All at once, the taste of him filled her mouth, and Jillian just yearned for him. His kiss had been such a heady combination of need and restraint, of tenderness and demand.

  Knock it off. Get to work.

  All right, all right. She cracked her knuckles, took a deep breath, and focused her attention on the computer screen.

  But she knew the ladder was still there. Standing like a forgotten solider. A constant reminder of the man she was struggling to forget.

  “Dammit,” she muttered, pushing back her chair.

  Jillian headed for the ladder with the intention of stuffing it into the adjoining supply room, but before she reached it, the office door opened and a beautiful young blonde stepped over the threshold.

  “Hi,” she said. “You must be Jillian Samuels, the new lawyer everyone in town is buzzing about.”

  “I haven’t taken the Colorado bar yet, but, yes, I suppose I am.”

  The woman stepped across the room, her hand extended. “Lily Massey.”

  “Ah,” Jillian said, shaking her hand. “Bill’s fiancée.”

  She beamed. “I am.”

  “What can I do for you, Lily?” Jillian asked. “Or did you just stop by to say hi?” She hadn’t been in town long, but she’d quickly learned people liked to pop in to get a good look at her and satisfy their curiosity. Or size her up before making their bets in the guess-when-she’s-gonna-leave-town pool.

  “I need to speak to you about my prenuptial agreement.”

  A real client. Good, good.

  “Have a seat,” she invited with a wave at the chair positioned in front of Sutter’s desk.

  Lily glanced up and eyed the hole in the ceiling. “What happened?”

  “Long story.”

  Lily kept staring upward. “Are we safe?”

  That was a loaded question. As a lawyer, she knew safety was an illusion. At any moment, you could step off the curb in front of a Tom Thumb delivery truck and get run down. You could fall through the attic and break your neck. You could drop dead of a brain tumor in the middle of Starbucks. And yet, she was certain that was not the answer Lily Massey was looking for.

  “As long as we don’t go into the attic.” Jillian sat in the rolling leather desk chair, and Lily tentatively eased down across from her. “So you want to draw up a prenup?”

  “No,” she said. “I want you to tear it up.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Sighing, Lily leaned back against the chair. “My father made me get one. I’m from L.A. Everyone gets a prenup. Dad insisted when he came up for our engagement party. He thinks he’s protecting me but …” She trailed off.

  “But?”

  “He doesn’t understand.”

  “As a lawyer, I’m afraid I have to side with your father. Do you have significant assets?”

  “I’ve got a small trust fund, yes. But Bill has money of his own. He’s been saving for the right woman to come along.”

  “That’s all very romantic but not terribly practical. This country’s divorce rate is fifty percent.”

  “You’re from a big city, too, aren’t you?” Lily asked.

  “Houston.”

  “You’ve never lived in a place like Salvation.”

  “That’s true.”

  “You don’t understand either. About small towns and people with integrity. When they give you their word, it’s law.”

  “People in small towns don’t have a lock on integrity. Proportionally, there’s just as much greed and corruption in Salvation as there is in L.A.”

  Lily shook her head. “No, there’s not. You’ll see if you stay long enough. This is a special place. The people in it are special too.”

  Okay, so Lily was a bit delusional. She didn’t seem to know the first thing about human nature.

  “I’m guessing Bill is hassling you about the prenup?” Jillian ve
ntured.

  “No,” she said. “Exactly the opposite. He cheerfully signed it.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “Bill didn’t ask me to sign one.”

  “Why not?”

  “He says what’s his is mine. Don’t you see?” Lily asked. “My prenup ruins everything.”

  Jillian leaned forward. “How so?”

  “A prenuptial agreement says I expect the marriage to fail. I don’t.”

  “It’s just a legal document to protect you, worst-case scenario.”

  “I don’t live my life that way.” Lily shifted, crossing her legs at the knees. “Preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. I believe that if you prepare for the worst, then that’s what you’re going to get.”

  Jillian didn’t expect Lily’s comment to affect her like it did, but suddenly she experienced a yawning hollowness in the pit of her stomach. That’s what she’d done her entire life. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best—that is, until she moved to Salvation. She hadn’t prepared for anything. She’d broken her pattern and look where it had gotten her. Living in a house that in all likelihood she was going to lose, living with a man who made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

  “Instead of destroying your prenup, why not just get Bill to draw one up of his own so you’ll be on equal footing?”

  Lily twirled the large marquis-cut diamond on the ring finger of her left hand. “He says he has faith in us, that he knows we’re destined to be together. He’s not afraid. He loves and trusts me.”

  “That’s all well and good, but what’s going to protect you if this marriage doesn’t work out?”

  “My faith will protect me. Faith in our love.”

  “You’re basing this on emotions. Be practical. Think of your future,” Jillian lobbied.

  “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?” Lily tilted her head. “I’m in this marriage for better or worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. Bill is the love of my life. Now, if you don’t mind, would you please get the prenup? I’d like you to witness its destruction.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Jillian got up and headed for the file cabinet she’d spent the past week organizing.