Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) Page 30

  She’d noticed the tiny seed pearls sewn across the front of the dress before. But something had caught her eye this time around with the sun reflecting off the semiprecious jewels. It almost looked like a— “Map of some sort,” Zach said at the same time she thought the words.

  She crossed to stand in front of him. “But a map of what?”

  Zach ran his free hand through his hair. “It could be of anything, anywhere. The dress got lost on a flight from Boston. But I don’t know if that’s where it originated. For all we know it could have been flown in from Europe somewhere.”

  Mariah ran her fingers over what could have been roads across the delicate lace of the dress. “Boston is where it originated.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  She took the bracelet from her pocket. “Because I found this snagged on the inside sleeve of the dress when I tried it on.”

  Zach turned the bracelet over and read the name. “What’s this got to do with Boston?”

  “Priscilla London got married in Boston two weeks ago.” She pressed her finger against the dress. “Wearing this.”

  “Ah.”

  Ah, indeed.

  She felt Zach’s probing gaze on her. “And when were you going to share this with me?”

  She shrugged. “Tonight, most likely. I placed a call to the London family and talked to a servant. The dress came up missing a week after the ceremony.”

  Zach turned his attention back to the dress. “So you think this is a map of something in Boston?”

  “I don’t know.” She ran her fingers around one curvy line, then followed another. It seemed the majority of them originated at the lace rose at the neckline. “This looks like it’s a point of reference.”

  “It looks like a rose to me,” Zach said.

  Mariah frowned at him.

  Hughie stepped into the kitchen, looked over their shoulders and said, “That ain’t no rose. That’s Bisbane’s Bluff.”

  * * *

  “BISBANE’S BLUFF?” Zach said, after dinner had been served, and the peach pie he and Mariah had made had cooled enough to cut. He served it and Mariah scooped out vanilla ice cream. She mounded it next to the pieces and they carried the plates to the table.

  “It’s a rock formation about sixty miles to the northwest of here,” Hughie said in answer to Zach’s question. “Old Man Jock Bisbane owned the land so they called it Bisbane’s Bluff.”

  Zach looked at Mariah. She shrugged, indicating she wasn’t familiar with the story.

  “You make this pie, Mar?”

  Zach watched her cheeks turn pink. “With help from Zach.”

  “Good Lord, girl, I haven’t had peach pie since your mother used to make it for me.”

  “I remembered that it was your favorite.”

  Hughie seemed thoughtful as he looked at his daughter. “Yours, too.”

  Mariah nodded but didn’t say anything.

  Zach wanted to shake his head at two of the most stubborn people he’d ever met in his life. Instead he took a bite of pie and concentrated on the dress. “How can you be sure the flower designates the bluff?”

  Hughie stretched his neck to swallow the extra large bite of pie he’d just put into his mouth. He used his fork to point to the lower left-hand corner of the bust, well enough away from the dress not to risk touching it. “See that there? The grouping that looks like an arrowhead? That’s Fontaine Point.” He moved the fork to the other side. “And that there, where the white things come together in an oval is Josiah’s Loop.”

  Zach noticed that Mariah had stopped eating, her expression indicating she was somewhere far away as she stared unseeingly at the dress. Hughie finished his pie, as did Zach, yet Mariah still sat as if mesmerized. Hughie’s silverware clanked against the side of his plate and he patted his belly. “Best damn peach pie I’ve had in a pig’s life, Mariah. Thank you.”

  That finally seemed to snap her out of her trance, though she didn’t appear to have heard her father’s words. “Jock Bisbane… You wouldn’t happen to be referring to Jock of the Jock and Ellie story, would you?”

  Zach frowned. “Weren’t Jock and Ellie J.R.’s parents on Dallas?”

  The twosome stared at him in a way that made him feel as if he’d never get it.

  Mariah piled the plates up, hers on top. “You know the saying that there’s a little truth behind every work of fiction? Well, we’re all convinced the writer of the show must have taken the names from the legend of Jock and Ellie.”

  “Oil people?”

  Mariah nodded. “Yes, but not what you saw on Dallas. Jock was a third-generation Texan who worked the land and accidentally struck oil when he was twenty-five. The find allowed him the resources and the courage to ask the woman he’d loved for years, but hadn’t dared court, to marry him.”

  “Ellie.”

  “Yes. Ellie was from a wealthy family that had moved here some years before from Virginia, I think. Anyway, it’s said that the night before they were to be married Ellie took ill. She was dead by dawn.”

  Zach raised his brows.

  “Those types of things happened back then,” Hughie said. “Now we know it was probably food poisoning or some kind of poisoning, accidental or otherwise. But back then sudden deaths were just accepted as a freak of nature.”

  “How long ago are we talking about?” Zach asked.

  “A hundred years, easy.”

  All eyes shifted to stare at the dress.

  “You don’t think this is the dress Ellie was to wear?” he asked.

  Mariah’s face was full of wonder and fascination. “It couldn’t be.”

  “It sure as hell is,” Hughie disagreed. “The story doesn’t end with Ellie’s death. It’s said that Jock had this dress made up special for Ellie, and somewhere on it was a map of something called Jock’s Treasure.”

  Mariah waved her hand. “I never bought that part....” she said, then trailed off as she continued fixating on the dress.

  “Yes, but you can’t deny the rest of the story,” Hughie said. “The fact that shortly after Ellie’s death, Jock disappeared. And so did his fortune.”

  “Myth,” Mariah said softly, as if trying to convince herself. “Something the locals tell themselves in the winter when the sun sets early and the family’s gathered around the fire.”

  While the other two focused on the dress, Zach gazed solely at Mariah. God, she was beautiful. He wondered what he would do if she ever, Lord forbid, fell ill.

  He caught himself and blinked several times, astounded by the thought.

  “Could you find this place?” he asked when the silence stretched on.

  Two pairs of eyes shifted to look at him.

  “Bisbane’s Bluff. This tiny X on the map. Can you find it?”

  Mariah nodded and a smile slowly spread until it nearly swallowed her face. “Oh, yeah. Why?”

  “Why, because he intends to find it, Mar,” Hughie said, scratching his chin. “But it’s going to take some doing. Something that’s been buried for over a hundred years…well, it tends to stay buried.”

  Silence reigned as the three of them considered what Hughie had said.

  “Well, a little checking around never hurt anybody, did it?” Zach asked.

  Mariah’s eyes sparkled. “Nope.”

  Hughie was already moving for the phone. “Let me see what help I can scare up.”

  12

  MARIAH STOOD ALONE in the middle of her bedroom wearing one of the more comfortable ensembles Zach had insisted she buy earlier that afternoon. The lights were off, and she could barely make out her silhouette in the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door, but she didn’t need to see herself to know how she felt. Hot as molten lava.

  She heard Hughie
’s hearty laugh come from the direction of the living room, where the three of them had moved after the Jock and Ellie conversation. She smoothed her hands over the silky material covering her stomach and sucked in a breath. Could it be true? Could the dress she’d left on the kitchen table be the one Ellie was to have worn on her wedding day? The dress Jock was rumored to have a map to his fortune laid out on?

  She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. While there were different variations on the story, one of them was that Jock had taken the dress with him wherever he’d gone and that it was lost forever.

  Another story said that Ellie had actually been buried in the dress.

  But what had her wondering was the one that said the dress had been left with Ellie’s family, and the family was so distraught over the loss of their only child that they’d given the dress to a wealthy family visiting from up north—more specifically, the New England area....

  No. It couldn’t be true. Mariah didn’t believe in fairy tales, and she certainly didn’t believe in stories old ranch hands told in saloons near closing time when they all were good and sloshed.

  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, would it? Especially with what had happened so far, the dress’s connection to the Northeast, and what could very well be a map sewn across the delicate lace of the bust.

  She and Zach had agreed to look into it first thing the following morning. She swallowed hard, reminding herself that several hours separated now from then.

  She sighed gustily. At some point she really should get a peek at how she looked in her new underwear, no matter how reluctant she was to do so. It didn’t matter that she was afraid her breasts would look too small, her waist too wide, and her thighs like mounds of cottage cheese.

  Bracing herself for the nightmare, she reached over and flipped the light switch near the door that illuminated the lamps on either side of her bed behind her.

  And she lost her breath.

  There was no way…it couldn’t possibly be…she couldn’t believe it. The woman looking back at her from the mirror…it wasn’t her.

  She lifted her hand to her chest, watching as the creamy skin heaved under her shaky fingers. Breasts. She had breasts. She covered her mouth to stop the giggle that threatened. Okay, so maybe the bra she’d bought only made it look like she had breasts. But there, staring back at her, were two creamy mounds made all the whiter by the black of the push-up lace cups.

  Her gaze ventured lower to where the black lace continued down over her abdomen, cinching her in at the waist, the high cut of the matching panties giving the appearance of legs. Long, shapely legs whose imperfections were covered by black fishnet stockings.

  Whoa....

  Mariah swallowed with some difficulty. Okay, so maybe the reflection staring in fascination back at her did look a little familiar. The hair. The wide eyes. The unpainted mouth. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, then scrambled to her dresser drawer where she’d stashed the makeup she’d bought some six months ago but had never worn. She’d even asked the woman at the department store counter for help, so she was reasonably sure the colors she’d bought wouldn’t look too bizarre against her skin and coloring. Burnt umbers and rich reds jumped out at her. Palming several of the cosmetics and a plain black hair band, she hurried back to the mirror as fast as she could in the low-heeled mules pinching her toes. First went on the eyeliner. Then some blush. Then next came the va-va-voom red lipstick. She nearly hiccuped as she scrutinized the results that looked right at home with the sexy lingerie.

  She allowed her attention to wander downward again, to where the underwear disappeared between her legs. Soft tendrils of pubic hair curled up over the edge of the narrow scrap of material. She swallowed hard. Should she shave? She dropped a finger down to touch the downy curls and decided that, no, she wasn’t going to shave. Instead, she tucked the wayward curls inside the crotch, gasping when her fingertip slid easily between the slick, soft folds of flesh there.

  Whoa…

  Now in a hurry to finish the effect, she pulled back her hair. She secured it into her usual ponytail and smoothed back the top. Too dominatrix. She tugged the band until it sat nearer to the top of her head, causing the strands to cascade like a fountain, first up, then down over the top of her head.

  “Good God.”

  Mariah jumped, dropping the tube of lipstick onto the carpet at her feet. She was almost afraid to look. To see the man who was undoubtedly standing in the doorway looking at her.

  “Where’s my father?” she whispered.

  “He went out back to check on the ranch hands.”

  Good. Mariah didn’t think she’d said the word, but it didn’t matter. She began to turn toward the door.

  “Don’t move,” Zach murmured throatily.

  The click of the door closing and locking sounded, then the thud of his footfalls as he moved to stand behind her.

  Mariah lost all ability to breathe when she saw him over her right shoulder, his expression dark, his eyes so full of passion she nearly wet herself right then and there.

  “You look…you are…incredible,” he whispered, his eyes holding hers in the mirror.

  Mariah began to turn toward him, but he stayed her with a hand on her shoulders. “No, don’t. I want…” He seemed to be having a little trouble breathing himself. “I want you to look at yourself, Mariah. Really look at yourself.”

  He moved to stand closer, mere millimeters separating them, his heat arcing between them like static electricity. He slid his hands between her arms and waist, sliding them up to where her breasts heaved, threatening to pop out of the push-up cups. “Look at this. Have you ever seen a pair of breasts so perky?” He curved his fingers up to cover the cups, then over the small half globes. “My mouth’s watering just wanting to suckle them.”

  Mariah nearly lost her footing. He pulled her to him so that her back rested against his front, supplying the support she had suddenly lost.

  “Look at your waist,” he murmured, his breath hot on her ear.

  Mariah did, her eyes moving to where his hands rested on the stiff material at her midsection, then dropped lower still, to the patch between her legs. She tried to drag air into her lungs, but failed, anticipating the moment he would come in contact with the swollen flesh waiting for his touch. Instead, he swept his hands out to her hips then down her outer thighs, causing her to gasp for air.

  “I knew you had long legs under those jeans,” he murmured, his lips teasing her ear yet not really touching her. “Wow. Fills a guy with all sorts of decadent thoughts.”

  Mariah restlessly licked her lips, tasting the lipstick there. “And a guy saying that makes a girl wish he would act on those thoughts.”

  She looked at him in the mirror, finding a naughty grin on that handsome face of his. “In time, darling. In time. Good things come to—”

  “Those who wait, my ass,” she whispered, trying to turn in his arms again.

  He held tight. “Uh-uh. I’m not done yet.”

  Mariah was so hot she was afraid she might burst into flames. But she forced herself to stand still. Apparently convinced that she would, Zach moved his hands from her legs to her outer arms, caressing the skin there. Mariah shivered, her hard nipples very near to popping out of her bustier.

  “Zach…”

  “Shh,” he murmured, covering the back of her hands with his.

  Mariah blinked, watching as he bent her arms at the elbows and guided her hands to rest against her stomach just below her breasts. “You know,” he said, running his tongue along the shell of her ear. “There are few things that turn men on more than a woman who not only knows the beauty of her own body, but appreciates it, as well.”

  He was calling her beautiful. The heat sizzling outside Mariah swirled inside.

  “Show me how much you love your body, Mar
iah.”

  He guided her hands to rest over her breasts.

  Mariah’s heart stopped. She’d never touched herself in such an overt way. But somehow, seeing her fingers resting against her breasts, she was filled with a desire to try, as much for Zach’s sake as for her own growing desire to explore uncharted territory.

  Zach’s hands dropped to her wrists, presumably to prevent her from stopping, and to encourage her to go on.

  And Mariah did.

  She squeezed her breasts through the black lace, watching as the top of the mounds grew. Her right nipple popped up and out of the lacy cup. She stared at the dark tip, which was as thick as a pencil eraser, surprised that she didn’t want to tuck it back inside. Instead, she ran the palm of her hand over it, then pinched the puckered end between her fingers. Zach groaned, pressing his hard arousal against her barely clad backside.

  “That’s it,” he whispered hoarsely. “Touch yourself, Mariah. Touch yourself as you imagine you’d like me to touch you.”

  And she did. With her other hand, she freed her other nipple, then pinched and rolled the tips of both breasts in her fingers, tugged and pulled and pushed until her breathing came in rapid gasps.

  Zach cursed under his breath and caught her hands again. “Now for the grand prize…”

  Mariah’s throat grew thick as he covered her fingers with his and pointed them in the direction of her crotch.

  Already she could feel the wetness dampening the inside of her thighs. But as Zach edged her hands down her waist, she knew a moment of hesitation. To indulge in self-gratification when she hadn’t known he was watching was one thing. To do it with him not only watching, but watching him watching…

  She nearly came right then and there.

  “Shh,” he said in her ear. “Not yet, baby. Oh, not yet.”

  Then her fingers were skimming over her throbbing flesh, down between her legs, undoing the snap there. The material sprang upward, revealing her pink folds glistening with her own moisture, the core of her need peeking through her dark curls, thick, pulsing evidence of her high state of arousal.