Free Texas Heat by Fern Michaels Page A

splotches. He only felt the softness and the affectionate pressure she returned.
    â€œMmmm. You smell so good.” Amelia relished the feel of his lips against her skin and his fresh soapy scent. Beads of water clung to his shoulders and glistened in the thick mat of his chest hair.
    Cary recognized the expression in Amelia’s eyes and the heated quality of her voice. “I’ll give you a nickel if you yank off this towel,” he murmured intimately. “And two bits if you follow through.”
    Amelia resisted the intoxicating invitation and quelled her pulse-thumping reaction with a laugh. “Make it a dollar and you might have a deal.” She moved away from him, carrying the impression of his touch with her. She didn’t want him to see how much his overtures pleased her, how hungry she was for him. “But first I’ll have my shower, and it’s going to take me time to redo my makeup. . . .” She paused thoughtfully. “On second thought, make that ten bucks.”
    â€œSweetheart, you could appear at this shindig wearing a J.C. Penney towel, and you’d still be the best-looking broad here.”
    â€œNo, thank you, I’d rather wear the dress I brought especially for this occasion.” She stepped over to him and presented her back for him to undo her zipper. “Cary darling, what did you think of the clan?” His answer was important to her and Cary knew it, too, so he chose his words carefully.
    â€œIt’s a family I’d like to belong to.”
    â€œYou do. You married me.”
    â€œI mean, I’d like to have been born into it.”
    â€œNo, you wouldn’t. Trust me. You think we were always like we are now. Well, you’re wrong.” Her tone lowered, old regrets coloring her voice. “Cary, people did awful things to one another in this house.” Then, wanting to be on firmer ground, she asked, “What did you think of Billie?”
    â€œShe’s terrific. Her admiral is an okay guy, too.”
    Cary’s streetwise vernacular never bothered Amelia. In fact, she enjoyed being called a “good-looking broad.” She’d known others with more refined speech and manners who hadn’t half the honesty and character of Cary. She sucked in her breath when he dropped the skimpy towel around his middle and stepped into silky bikini briefs. She blinked and looked at her watch meaningfully.
    Cary grinned. “You had your chance.”
    Amelia escaped temptation by flying into the bathroom. Chances. Maybe that’s what her life really was, just one chance after another. Susan’s announcement had come as a shock. Cary was only a few years older than Susan. Did he compare ages? If it hadn’t occurred to him already, it soon would that she, Amelia, was almost like a grandmother to Susan’s baby. Grandmothers, those little shrunken women with rosy cheeks and sparkling white aprons to match their hair. She didn’t fill the bill and neither did Billie. But there was a new breed of grandmother these days: taller, slimmer women who hid their age with the help of Clairol, belly suctions, and face lifts.
    Stepping up to the bathroom mirror, Amelia studied herself. She was a network of fine scar lines almost invisible to the naked eye. But she knew where each and every line was. Time and gravity, those two ancient enemies to be warded off at all cost. Especially now, especially since Cary.
    A rigid regimen of diet and exercise, torment and torture, was worth every deprivation, every sore muscle, if it meant having Cary. She lifted her arm and looked into the mirror over her shoulder. No trace of a wrinkle or loose, crinkly skin. She could wear a sleeveless dress without a worry. For the time being, at least. Sooner or later it was going to catch up with her, and then what? Cary wouldn’t want her then. Amelia peered closer into the glass. Behind the visage of a smooth-skinned, wide-eyed, almost