Joan Pickart - Man...Mercenary...Monarch

She opened her eyes again, wanting to see John in the glow of the lamp, wanting to memorize every detail of him, cherishing the sight, the sound, the taste and feel of this magnificent man.

Her man, Laura thought dreamily. Hers for one night. They were creating memories together that she would keep forever, tuck away so securely in her heart. In the years yet to come she could reach into the secret cupboard and relive the magic of this night.

“Magic,” she said, not realizing she’d spoken aloud.

“Yes,” John said, raising his head to meet her gaze. “That’s what it is—was from the moment I saw you. I’ve never talked, shared, with anyone the way I have with you, probably never will again. Thank you, Laura, for…for just being you.”

“And I thank you, John, for being you, for chasing away my loneliness, for trusting me with your worries and fears, the very essence of who you are. I’ll never forget you. Never.”

“Yes, you will, and you should.”

“No, I…”

“Shh,” he said, then his mouth melted over hers.

They were no longer in a small, shabby room; they were in a field of wildflowers under a brilliant blue sky and a warming sun. They were in a place meant only for the two of them, where no one else was allowed to go.

Their place. Their world. Their magic.

Their breathing became labored and hearts thundered. Hands were never still and where hands had traveled, lips followed in a heated path.

It was wild, and reckless, and wonderful.

“John,” Laura gasped finally, “please.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Wait. I want to protect you.”

John returned to her as quickly as possible and Laura reached out for him eagerly, his absence having been an eternity.

John moved over her, catching his weight on his arms, then he entered her slowly, filling her, watching her face for any hint of pain.

Laura sighed in pure feminine pleasure, a soft smile forming on her lips. She raised her hips to meet him and the dance began, building in power and force to a pounding rhythm, taking them higher and higher.

Reaching. Glorying in the ecstasy. Anticipating the moment of exquisite release. Giving and receiving in total abandon.

On and on…

“John!”

“Yes!”

Laura clung to his shoulders and he flung his head back, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. They were there, together, and neither wished the moment to end. They hovered, savoring, awed by the splendor.

John collapsed against Laura, his energy spent. He rolled off of her quickly so as not to crush her, then he nestled her close to his side.

Hearts quieted. Bodies cooled. The flames of desire dimmed to simmering embers.

They didn’t speak as the magic demanded silence. Reverently, carefully, memories were hidden away in private chambers of their hearts.

They slept, heads on the same pillow, Laura’s hand encircling a small ring that hung on a chain around John’s neck.

Fingers of sunlight inched beneath the curtains on the window to tiptoe across Laura’s face, waking her. She opened her eyes slowly, then in the next instant sat bolt upright on the bed, her heart racing as she realized she had absolutely no idea where she was.

The cobwebs of sleep disappeared with a blink, to be replaced by vivid images of the previous night…and John.

Laura glanced around the small room, then saw a scrap of paper on one of the bed pillows. She snatched it up and read the message written in a bold, sprawling handwriting.

Laura—

I hope you find your rainbow. You deserve it.

John

Laura sank back against the pillows and reread the note three more times.

John, her mind whispered. He’d remembered what she’d said about wishing to find the rainbow that would bring her the true happiness she was seeking. She had spoken and he had listened, really heard what she had said.

John, her man of the magical night. He was so magnificent, strong yet gentle, so sensitive and caring.

John, who was facing the tremendous challenge of raising a son he hadn’t even known he had. He’d trusted her enough to share his fears with her, his feelings of inadequacy regarding his new, daunting and awe-evoking role.

John. Their lovemaking had been so exquisitely beautiful, it was beyond description. Magic. In the world they’d created together, every touch and kiss had been ecstasy. They had moved as one, a single entity, their dance of love so synchronized and perfect, it was as though they’d been lovers for years, knew every nuance of the other.

“John,” Laura whispered, then sighed.

She had no regrets about her rash actions of last night. None. The only shadow hovering over her was the realization that she would never see John again. She’d known that at the outset, but still…

No, no, she had to be sophisticated and mature about this. Facts were facts. And memories were memories, hers to keep.

“Goodbye, John,” Laura said softly, as she clutched the note. “Thank you.”

She showered and dressed, then after one last look at the shabby little room, she closed the door behind her with a quiet click. She turned away from this magical place, blinked away sudden and unwelcome tears, lifted her chin and prepared to drive back to the ranch.

Alone.

During the fifteen miles she had to cover to reach The Rocking C Ranch, Laura gave herself a continuous, stern lecture.

Before she even entered the house, she decreed, she would have pushed the memories of John to a safe corner of her mind, would not allow him to step through the front door with her, to haunt her with his sensuous presence.

The long hours she spent in that house waiting to fulfill her assignment were difficult enough without aching for the sight, the sound, the taste and touch of a man she would never see again.

“Go away, John,” she said, flapping one hand in the air as the house came into view. “Oh, please, just go away right now.”

The house was a large, one-story traditional ranch style, with five bedrooms and a huge, modern kitchen. The living room that Laura entered boasted an enormous flagstone fireplace on one wall, gleaming hardwood floors with a scattering of Native American area rugs, and oversize dark wood furniture done in varying shades of tweed.

Laura hurried to the bedroom she was using during her stay, not wishing to see Betty, the housekeeper. Betty was a no-nonsense woman in her mid-fifties, who would not hesitate to ask where she had spent the night.

Answering that question, Laura decided as she changed into fresh clothes, could hopefully be avoided if Betty didn’t have a clue that Laura hadn’t been tucked in her own bed.

Laura left her bedroom and peered into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it was empty, then headed for the pot of prepared coffee. She settled at the big oak table with a mug of the steaming brew.

And thought about John.

“Would you stop that?” she said, smacking the top of the table with the palm of one hand. “Just cut it out. Get a grip. Right now.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Laura jerked in her chair as Betty entered the kitchen from the mudroom beyond. She was carrying a basket of eggs and wearing her usual jeans, boots and Western shirt. She was tall, slender and her short gray hair curled around her attractive face.

“Me,” Laura said with a sigh.

Betty laughed. “You’re certainly giving yourself what-for this morning.” She went to the sink and began to rinse off the eggs. “Sleep well?”

“Oh, I…you bet,” Laura said, feeling a warm flush creep onto her cheeks.

“Then why the grumpy mood?” Betty said, glancing over at her, then resuming her chore.

“I’m just dreading facing another long day, I guess,” Laura said. “I’ve only been here alone a short time, but it seems like a year. The thing is, I have no idea how many more days I’ll need to remain. Heaven only knows when John Colton will decide to make a trip home for a visit. I have to sit here and wait until he shows up.”