Kathleen O'Brien - [Cowboy Country] - Texas Baby p.03

AT SEVEN O’CLOCKSaturday night, just two hours before the fund-raiser dance would begin, Susannah stood in her bathroom and prayed for courage.

“Okay. Here goes.” She wrapped a hank of hair around the curling iron, wound it tightly and held it for the count of ten. The thick coat of styling gel began to heat up, and she wrinkled her nose against the nasty, fruity scent.

God, why did anybodydo this? When she unrolled her curl, her hair looked fake and shiny, like a lardy sausage. But she refused to be daunted. She picked up another section of hair and began the process all over again.

This was the last step. She’d already completed her makeup, and she was quite pleased with the results. She smiled at herself in the mirror, trying to get used to seeing big black feathers of mascara whenever she blinked. She licked her juicy red lips, showing a lot of pink tongue.

Perfect.She looked like the love child of Marilyn Manson and Cleopatra. She positively oozed sex. And not good-girl sex, either. Hot, trashy, male-fantasy sex.

The kind of sex she’d never had in her life.

Her clothes had been the toughest part. Nothing she owned was even close. Her closet was full of tailored slacks and blazers, and cool, expensive evening dresses that all shivered icily and saiddon’t touch me, I’m channeling Jacqueline Kennedy .

So she’d spent the afternoon in Austin, trying on the most seductive clubbing outfits she could find. Some of them had made her blush, even in the privacy of the dressing room. The white bell-bottoms, for instance, that had the rear end cut out and a built-in white thong to cover the indecency laws. Or the skintight black dress with pink-sequin nipples appliqued on the chest.

Okay, maybe the situation with Nicole wasn’t as bad as it could possibly get. Compared to these outfits, Nikki’s clothes looked like Pollyanna pinafores.

She settled on an all-white minidress and a pair of thigh-high black boots. The dress was too tight, too short—and just trashy enough to make her point without getting her arrested.

She squinted her eyes as she finished the last curl, and smiled a smug-cat smile. She couldn’t wait to see Nikki’s face.

She had to hurry, though. The whole purpose would be defeated if she didn’t get down there before Nikki chose her own outfit.

She heard Nikki trudging up the stairs, every heavy footfall announcing how much she didn’t want to attend tonight’s dance. Two days ago, she’d been thrilled. But the difference was that, two days ago, Eli had been invited.

Nikki had only one way of making Susannah pay. By dressing like a trashy little hoodlum, she could advertise her disdain for Susannah’s stodgy, middle-class attitude toward work and life, toward love and money. Plus, she could embarrass Susannah in front of her equally self-righteous friends at the Burn Center.

The minidress was Susannah’s somewhat dramatic plan to stage a preemptive strike.

When she heard Nikki hit the landing, she stepped out of the bathroom, zipping up her last boot. She tugged her microscopic skirt over her rear end, and smiled at her little sister. “Hey, Nik. Is my slip showing?”

Oh, for the foresight to have brought along her Polaroid! Nikki’s expression was priceless. She had been scratching an itch in the center of her back, and she froze that way, her elbow pointing toward the ceiling. Her mouth fell open, giving Susannah a clear look at her tonsils.

She seemed, for a minute, incapable of speech. That alone had to be counted as a victory.

“Oh, that’s right! Silly me! I’m not wearing a slip.” Susannah twisted her hip and pretended to be looking at her own butt. “But what do you think about underwear? Yes or no? I don’t want to have a panty line, but…”

Finally Nikki lowered her arm. “What thehell are you thinking?”

“Don’t cuss, sweetie. And you’d better hurry. We’ve got to leave in about twenty minutes.”

Nikki’s eyebrows dug so deep over her eyes Susannah wondered how she could see. “What is this? Some kind of joke?”

“No, of course not. I just listened to what you said yesterday, you know, about how I’ve forgotten how to have fun. You’re right. I need to loosen up a little bit.” She plumped her crazy curls. “I thought I’d start tonight.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Of course not,” she said again, quite merrily. “I’m just letting go of my inhibitions.”

She picked up her atomizer and began spraying perfume. One puff. Two. Three. She could hardly breathe, but she managed to squeeze out a fourth. She held back a cough and extended the atomizer to Nikki. “Want some?”

Nikki backed up. “No,” she said adamantly. “You smell like a toxic waste dump. You’re going to suffocate everybody in the place.”

Susannah sighed. “Don’t be so uptight, Nikki.” She turned back to the bathroom and rummaged in her jewelry case. She lifted out the rhinestone chandelier dangles she’d bought at the boutique today. They weighed about five pounds each. “What do you think? I don’t think it’s too much, do you?”

“I think you’ll look like a slut. You already do look like one.”

Nikki folded her arms over her chest. She seemed a bit unnerved, and for a minute Susannah had a pang of conscience. Had she gone too far? Might Nikki really be afraid that her only guardian had lost her mind?

“Sue,” she said. “Get real. I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like that.”

“Of course you are. You’re giving a speech, remember? About the children’s wing?”

“Then you have to take off that outfit. And the makeup, too. You look awful.”

“What do you care what I wear?” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you implying that it would embarrass you to be seen with me?”

Nikki started to answer, but she slammed her mouth shut. Her expression changed, moving from bewildered to darkly sullen.

“Oh, I get it,” she said slowly. “You’re trying to make a point. But I’m not that stupid, you know. God, what a lame-ass trick.”

“Trick?”

“Yeah, trick. You want me to admit that this is what I do to you, when I wear clothes you don’t like. But it’s not the same.”

“It isn’t?” Susannah put one booted foot up on the vanity stool, bent over and ran her hands across the formfitting plastic. “How exactly is it different?”

Nikki hesitated. Her debating skills weren’t all that well honed yet. But she did her best. “Well, you’re a lot older than I am, for one thing.”

Susannah widened her bloodred lips. “I’m thirty. And I think I look pretty darn good in these boots, if I do say so myself.”

“Chase will hate it. He’ll be really mad.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Susannah turned to the mirror so that she could insert one of the dangles into her ear. “But even if he is, why should that bother you? He’s notyour boyfriend.”

Nikki didn’t have an answer for that one, which made her angrier than ever. In the mirror, Susannah could see that she was holding on to the banister knob. Her fingertips were bloodless white.

“It’s not going to work, you know,” Nikki said. “I’m still going to wear whatever I want.”

“Good!” Susannah forced delight into her voice as she slid in the other dangle. “We can be like twins. The Slutty Everly Sisters. It’ll be fun.”

Nikki sputtered something, then gave up and stomped away.

As Susannah heard the violent sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, she turned around slowly. Sighing, she hoisted her barely covered rump onto the countertop and stared down at her trashy plastic boots.

Okay, so…She’d seriously miscalculated. Her sister was way too savvy, and the whole charade had somehow turned into a do-or-die game of chicken.

Well, she darn sure wasn’t going to blink first.

Which meant it was going to be a very interesting evening. She tried to picture herself giving the “please give generously to our worthy cause” speech in these boots.

And this microskirt would give a whole new meaning to the electric slide.

She kicked the cabinet with her heels. But hey, why not look on the bright side?

At least she could count on some great big, drooling donations from the dirty old men in the room.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JOSIE LOVED TO DANCE.

Riverfork didn’t have much going for it, but every Saturday night the Barbecue Barn rolled up the tables and held a “Stomping Good Barn Dance” that actually lived up to its name. The Taylors, who owned the restaurant, were her friends, and Josie never missed a week if she could help it.

So when Susannah invited her to the Burn Center’s barn dance fund-raiser, she had accepted eagerly. This was one place where she could definitely hold her own.

Especially tonight, when, for the first time in a long time she felt good, and she knew she looked good. She had on a new pair of jeans that she’d bought in town the other day, when she and Chase had gone to visit the sketch artist. She even had a new shirt—a turquoise-blue sleeveless tank top with a fairly daring V-neck. It had taken the very last penny she owned that wasn’t needed to pay the bills, but it was worth it. Both pieces fit just right, especially now that Imogene’s food had put a few pounds back where they belonged.

Best of all, though, was the special decoration she wore in her hair. She’d been almost finished dressing, when Chase knocked on the guest room door.Wow , she thought instinctively…with those tight hips and sexy rear end, he was like a walking advertisement for blue jeans. And when he topped it off with that soft-as-baby-skin white shirt and crisp navy blazer, he was really something special.

“I thought you might like to wear this,” he said.

She pulled her thoughts together. In his outstretched hand, he held an exquisite little hair clip.

“It belonged to my mother,” he said. “I know she’d like you to have it.”

When she hesitated, he assured her it wasn’t an expensive piece, though she found that hard to believe. Handmade, it was an intricate spiderweb of fine silver, studded with blue topaz. And from the spiderweb hung several small, shining peacock feathers.

A dream catcher.

That was what won her over. Everyone in Texas knew the legend of the dream catcher—the hole in the center of the spiderweb let the good dreams come through, while the web itself trapped and destroyed the nightmares. The dangling feathers helped to guide wisdom and comfort to the sleeper.

How could she resist? Who didn’t need some help catching and holding on to the right dreams?

So she had accepted. She pulled the hair back from the sides of her face, and clipped it all into the silver band. Delighted, she had swiveled, trying to see it in the mirror, and every time she moved the feathers swung, tickling against her ear and neck.

It made her feel very special. Very feminine. Almost beautiful.

That cocky glow lasted about twenty minutes. Right up until the instant they arrived at the big, elaborately decorated Thompson Ranch barn, the donated site for the dance.

Right up until the minute she saw Susannah Everly.

This fund-raiser was Susannah’s event, Chase had explained. The Burn Center was her special project, and she’d been planning the dance for months.

So, to prepare, Susannah had arrived long before everyone else. She stood on stage talking to the banjo player, with several other musicians hovering on her every word.

She looked unbelievable.

Josie had assumed that this dance would be much like the ones in Riverfork, casual and folksy, with lots of beer and laughter. Denim and flannel everywhere.

Obviously she’d made a mistake. Susannah looked as if she’d just finished a cover shoot for Vogue magazine. She wore the sexiest little white dress Josie had ever seen, and thigh-high boots that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had the longest, sexiest legs in Texas. She’d topped the whole daring outfit off with a small white cowboy hat trimmed with a wide jade ribbon as green as her eyes.

When they saw her, Josie stopped dead in her tracks. But Chase laughed, then let out a loud, salacious wolf whistle.

“Lawsie Miss Suzie,” he said, laughing as he moved in and kissed his fiancee on the cheek. “You are one hot number tonight.”

To Josie’s surprise, Susannah grimaced. “Not by choice,” she said cryptically. “Suffice it to say…I have finally learned what it truly means to be hoist by one’s own petard.”

Chase cocked his head. “Huh?”

“Tell you later. It’s a long story, and frankly it makes me look like an idiot.” Belatedly, Susannah noticed Josie. “Hey, there,” she said with a smile. “I’m glad you felt up to coming.”

“I couldn’t wait,” Josie said honestly. She’d been edgy and excited all day, whenever she thought about it. “You look terrific. But I have to admit I’m suddenly feeling a bit underdressed.”

“You look just right,” Susannah assured her. “Believe me, if anyone is underdressed, it’s me.”

“You’re right about that, honey.” Chase laughed. “Not that I’m complaining, but…you sure you didn’t leave the bottom half of that dress at home in the box?”

Susannah gave him a dark look. “Very funny. Now I’d better get back to business here. I’ve got to open this party.” She touched Chase’s arm. “Why don’t you and Josie check out the buffet? I’ll see you later, okay?”

After that, things were a bit of a blur. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to meet Josie. She could guess, from the curious glances and the eager questions, that her dramatic arrival at Clayton Creek Ranch had been the hot gossip for days. What was this mystery woman? Friend? Lover? A little of both?

Chase handled it smoothly, introducing her over and over as Josie Whitford, his good friend from Riverfork. He was quite convincing, telling in sympathetic detail the harrowing story of her long drive, her eagerness to arrive in time for the party, the low blood sugar and the crash.

He was so plausible that even the people who looked the most skeptical at the outset went away persuaded that he’d known her forever, almost like brother and sister.

By the time he was through, Josie half believed it herself.

For a full half hour, while Susannah stood on stage with a microphone, discussing the Burn Center and introducing the guests of honor, including the callers and the musicians, Chase devoted himself to Josie.

He was a charming date, careful to keep the conversation general enough to include her, and attentive to her every need. He brought her a sparkling water with a twist of lime, and then found her a plateful of salad and grilled chicken. He led her to a table where they could sit with Trent and some of the others from the ranch.

But the truth nagged at her. He wasn’t her date—he was Susannah’s, and pretty soon the other woman would be free of her official duties, and she’d come looking for her man.

Josie hated knowing that he probably felt trapped. She hated being the social albatross around his neck.

So when a tall, brown-haired cowboy in a rawhide vest came up and asked her to dance, she accepted.

Chase, who had just been approached by a couple of middle-aged ladies, didn’t seem to mind. He smiled and lifted a hand to signify his approval.

It was an easy line dance, and her partner moved well, so Josie had a ball. She hadn’t danced since before Chase…beforeFlim walked through the doors of the Not Guilty Cafe and turned her life upside down.

In a way, this dance felt like an official reentry into real life.

Her cowboy—whose name was Hallem—asked for the next dance, too—another line dance, which must be the way they’d decided to warm up the crowd. She said yes again.

They were on their third, the first slow song of the night, when Chase appeared and tapped on Hallem’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Hal,” he said good-naturedly. “You can’t monopolize her all night.”

“Oh, well. It was worth a try,” the cowboy said. He bowed with a flourish, kissed Josie’s hand and slowly sauntered away.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Chase smiled. “You’re supposed to dance at least one dance with the guy who brought you.”

No, she didn’t mind. Josie hadn’t really dared to hope that he would be willing to ask her. He’d gone to so much trouble to convince everyone that they were just good friends. Of course, good friends danced together all the time. Maybe it would seem more suspicious if they didn’t.

The truth was that, where he was concerned, she’d completely lost her bearings. She no longer knew what was normal and what wasn’t. Sometimes she felt absolutely sure they were friends, real friends, even though they’d known each other such a short time.

Sometimes that seemed like the silliest kind of wishful thinking.

She looked at him, his thick golden hair catching the light from the antler candelabra that had been jury-rigged especially for this occasion. When she met his gaze, her entire body seemed to tighten and shimmer, and surely that meant something.

But what?

Maybe it was gratitude. Or hormones. Or transference.

Maybe it was just the same bone-deep loneliness that had made her open her door, her bed and her heart to the last guy who had been flattering and kind.

She no longer trusted her own feelings. How could she? She had made such a terrible mistake the last time she…

She held her breath, realizing what she had been about to say to herself.

She’d made such a terrible mistake the last time she fell in love with Chase Clayton.

She glanced around, feeling panicked. The feathers of her dream catcher fluttered at her ear.

“Hey.” His voice was soft. He held out his arms. “It’s okay, Josie. Just dance with me.”

He might as well have hypnotized her. Even while she was telling her mouth to say no, her legs were moving toward him. She put her hand on his shoulder. He wrapped his fingers around her other hand, and closed it in against his chest.

There was nothing inappropriate about their posture. She kept her eyes open, and didn’t let her head tilt even an inch toward his body. He didn’t let his hand slip to the sensitive small of her back, or press her in too close.

From the outside, they probably looked like any other couple in the room.

But from the inside, it was pure dynamite.

Tiny gold and white fireworks were popping inside her veins. His hand was so hot she felt sure that tonight, when she took off her shirt, she’d find his brand on her spine. Under her fingers, his heart was pumping hard and slow, in a bolero rhythm that made her think of sex.

Deep in her body, the same rhythm answered. A fist of desire squeezed rhythmically, opening and shutting, creating ebbs and flows of heat, until she wasn’t sure she could breathe.

She shivered. In a minute, in a second, in one more dangerous heartbeat, her eyes would drift shut. Her body would soften. Her skin would begin to glow.

And everyone would see.

But the song was already ending. As the last notes of the violin reverberated under the high ceilings, and the dancers began to clap, she pulled away.

She looked at him, oddly dazed. Hardly seeing him.

“I need to—” She frowned, and looked toward the exit. “I should…the—”

His hand touched her back again. “Are you all right? Do you feel unwell?”

“No, Chase,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I feel confused.”

He might have been about to answer her, but she didn’t get the chance to find out. Trent was suddenly at his shoulder, tapping it.

“My turn, corporal,” he said with a wry smile. “And unless I miss my guess, there’s a hot dominatrix cowgirl over there who’s wondering where you are.”

Chase glanced toward their table, where Susannah had just settled with a glass of wine in one hand, and a horsewhip in the other.

He laughed. “Who can resist an invitation like that?”

He looked down at Josie, and his gaze was as neutral and friendly as if none of the fireworks had ever happened.

“Thanks for the dance,” he said. “Have fun with Trent, and try not to let him break all your toes at once.”

Trent made an irritated noise, swept Josie into his arms and swung her into a graceful waltzing rhythm.

His arms were strong and sure. He was a superb dancer, and just as handsome as Chase. Maybe, technically, even more so.

And yet…no fireworks. Not even the tiniest spark.

“So,” he began pleasantly. “Are you having a good time?”

She nodded. “I haven’t danced in ages. It feels great.”

“I was watching you with Chase,” he said. “You’re a good dancer. Of course, anyone looks good when they’re standing next to his two left feet.”

She smiled, not bothering to contradict him, even though he couldn’t be more wrong. Chase was such a natural that it didn’t even feel like dancing—it just felt like fusing bodies and moving as one.

Obviously neither man meant his insults to be taken seriously. They were just two Alpha dogs playing, teeth bared, but no real damage done. They were the two best-looking, most charismatic men here tonight—and that was quite a statement, given that this huge barn was now filled with healthy, studly sun-kissed cowboys dressed to kill.

Yet, every time they danced in Chase’s direction, she couldn’t help watching him. He sat next to Susannah. His arm was draped casually across the back of her chair, and they were head-to-head, whispering over their drinks.

After a couple of turns, she caught Trent looking at her, that wry, one-sided smile on his lips.

“They look good together, don’t they?”

She nodded, trying not to blush. “Susannah is amazing. I can’t imagine having the courage to wear that dress. And yet she looks fantastic.”

“It’s definitely not her usual style,” he said, his eyes studying the brunette beauty as they went by. “She’s ordinarily pretty straitlaced. You know what they’re saying, don’t you?”

“What who is saying?”

“Everyone.” He leaned his head back, so that he could get a straight look at her. “They’re saying that Sue had to ramp up the sex appeal tonight, because she was afraid she was losing her man.”

Josie stumbled, nearly stepping on Trent’s toes.“What?”

He nodded, still watching her closely. “Yeah, crazy, huh? But I actually heard someone say it, straight to her face.”

“But that’s absurd—”

“Well,” he said conversationally, “you and I know it’s absurd. And we certainly hope that Chase knows it, too. But I’m not so sure what Sue knows.”

Josie couldn’t figure out exactly what Trent’s interest was in all this. It was as if someone had appointed him guardian of Susannah’s love life, although, from a few of Chase’s indirect comments, Josie had gathered that Trent and Susannah didn’t much like each other.

“I’m not sure whether I’m reading between the lines correctly here. But if you, or anyone, think I’m getting into some kind of competition with Susannah, you couldn’t be more wrong. Do I find Chase attractive? Of course I do. Poll the females in this room, and find me even one who doesn’t.”

Trent chuckled. “Yeah. I guess that proves women are nuts.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “But I know this marriage is very important to her. I wouldn’t interfere with that, even if I could. And I couldn’t.”

He raised one eyebrow. “What makes you think you couldn’t?”

“Come on, Trent.” She smiled. “Pretend it’s a horse race, and look at the tip sheets on each of us. Based on history, bloodline, experience, conditioning, familiarity with the track…She wins by a mile, in any weather, on any surface.”

“Maybe so—on paper, anyhow. Sounds as if you’re a gambler.”

“No. But my stepfather was.”

“Then you also know what a dark horse is. A long shot. And you know that they’ve been known to come in. Especially if the horse is ready, and she wants it bad enough.”

She was suddenly weary of the racing metaphor.

She didn’t want to spend this whole party trying to read between the lines of the complicated Clayton social set. She hadn’t been to a party in months, and she wanted to enjoy herself.

“Don’t worry, Trent,” she said. “This is one dark horse that isn’t coming in anywhere except on the scratch sheet.”

“The scratch sheet?”

“Yes. You can tell Susannah she’s got nothing to worry about. When Monday comes, I’m going home.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THEY LAUGHED AND SANGall the way home, as if they were drunk, even though neither one of them had touched liquor all night. Josie had the baby to consider, and Chase…well, he hadn’t had a drink for ten years, not since the night of Paul’s accident.

He loved to see her so happy, especially after the tension of their dance. Somehow she’d seemed to shrug it off, and she’d wholeheartedly thrown herself into having fun.

Maybe she realized that, if she was going back home on Monday, this might be her last chance to feel so free, to dance and laugh and set aside all thoughts of the future.

He wanted her to make the most of it. So he’d fed the happiness everything he could find, trying to prolong it. He brought her delicious food and exotic virgin cocktails. He’d introduced her to all the most entertaining people, and he’d asked the band to play the songs he knew she’d liked.

But the real hilarity had started when she finally won a door prize. The really great stuff at the dance was all up for auction—it was a fund-raiser, after all. Obviously Josie couldn’t bid on any of that, but there were several door prizes, too, and she’d set her heart on winning one of them.

She’d held her breath while they gave away the weekend in Galveston. She’d said a prayer when the turquoise earrings were up. She’d even crossed her fingers, hoping to be called for the Swedish massage.

But she hadn’t won any of those. Instead, when they hollered out her ticket number, it was for a big, hulking black saddle.

A buffalo buckstitched pleasure saddle, to be exact.

Wouldn’t you just know it? The expression on her face was priceless. She’d climbed the stage, trying to look thrilled, but when they handed her the saddle it was clear she didn’t even know how to hold it—much less how to use it.

“I’m sorry,” she said now, still smiling as they approached the front door of the Double C. “I know in your world saddles are serious business. It’s just that—”

She started to giggle again. “Why do they call it—”

He tried to get the key in the lock. But it wasn’t easy when you were laughing. “A pleasure saddle?”

Her eyes danced. “And not just any pleasure saddle. A buffalo buttstitched…I mean…a buffalo suttbicked…”

She simply couldn’t say it. Laughter had tied a knot in her tongue. She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, lord. I’m going to wake up Imogene.”

“She’s not here, remember? She’s with her sister in Austin. Laugh as loud as you want. You might annoy the horses, but there’s no one else to complain.”

She inhaled deeply, hiccupping midbreath, which set off another round of giggles. She leaned against the siding, trying to get control.

He smiled. He knew this was his fault. All the way home, he’d done everything but stand on his head to amuse her, egging her on, making it worse, hoping she wouldn’t ever stop.

He loved the sound of her giggles. He basked in the glow on her face.

He wasn’t the only one. He’d seen it all night long, on the faces of the other men. She was so full of life—she seemed essential, like the bubble in your champagne.

Every man at the party between seven and seventy had wanted to dance with her, and most of them had.

It hadn’t been easy, standing back while they spun her on the floor, twirled her and do-si-doed her, linked hands with her to shoot the star. She had a natural grace, and a wellspring of enthusiasm that acted like a magnet, pulling other people to her, so that they could share in the joy.

It was all he could do to keep from cutting in every couple of dances. He held back by reminding himself that maybe these guys could hold her hand…but he was the lucky cowboy who would get to take her home.

And Imogene wasn’t there.

Finally he got the lock open. He held the door wide, stepped aside and let her through. She danced into the foyer, then twirled her way into the library, where she dropped with a sigh onto the sofa.

He followed, the ridiculous saddle draped over his left arm.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said, sighing as she kicked off her shoes. “You must think I’m such a dork.”

“Must I?’ He arranged the saddle carefully over the arm of the sofa, spreading out the fenders so that they dangled free. “Why?”

She grinned up at him. “Because I’m pretty sure only twelve-year-old boys think words are funny just because they rhyme with buck.”

He chuckled.

“A sophomoric sense of humor isn’t your biggest sin,” he said. He made a small adjustment on the saddle, so that it balanced more securely. “The real shame is that you don’t appreciate what a nice door prize you just won. Any guy at the party would gladly have bought it from you.”

“No way.” She leaned across and placed a protective hand over the black leather seat. “This beauty is mine.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you plan to do with it?”

“I’m going to use it,” she said. She wrinkled her cute nose. “As soon as I learn how.”

“Okay. How about if I teach you?”

She cocked her head, giving him a quizzical look. “Now?”

“Yeah. Right now. Come on, tenderfoot. Let’s see how you do.”

He reached down, grabbed her hands and lifted her to a standing position.

She protested laughingly, but didn’t pull away. Obediently, she let him arrange her on the far side of the couch.

“Let’s start with the mount,” he said. “Face me, grab hold of the horn, then throw your right leg over the saddle.”

She did as she was told, smiling at the foolishness of it. The leather creaked gently under her weight, but it didn’t slip. As soon as she was situated, she gripped the sofa with her knees.

She wriggled her bottom on the leather seat, finding the most comfortable spot.

“No problem.” She gripped the horn with both hands. “See? I’m a natural.”

“Not so fast, there, Annie Oakley.” He pried her fingers free. “You can’t hold on to the horn while you’re riding. You’ll need your hands for the reins. That’s how you’ll tell the horse what you want him to do.”

She raised her brows. “I want him to go very, very slowly and never toss me off.”

“No, you don’t. That would be much too boring.” He held out his arms. “Here. Put your hands here. I’ll be your reins.”

She glanced up at him, hesitating slightly, her eyes darkened just enough to tell him that their lighthearted foolishness might be turning into something else.

But then, with a nervous smile, she wrapped her fingers around his wrists. They felt warm and slightly tremulous against his skin.

“Good.” He squared off his feet, bracing his knees against the sofa. “Now, remember—riding won’t always be as easy as this. For one thing, the horse will be moving under you.”

Without warning, he pulled back his arms slightly, causing her to rock forward. She gasped, and balanced herself again.

“See? Not so simple. If you’re going to stay on, you have to learn to move with him.”

He tugged again, and this time she was ready. She leaned toward him, tucking her seat forward, lifting just a little with her knees.

“That’s right. Just like that.” He moved her yet again. “Forward, then back. Forward, then back.”

She rocked in place slowly, tilting her pelvis toward the horn when he told her to, letting him control the rhythm.

“Chase,” she began. But she didn’t say anything else. She seemed to need all her focus to keep her balance.

He held her gaze with his. “Good,” he said. “Nice and steady. Just let it flow.”

She swallowed hard, nodding. He never increased the rhythm, but after a minute or two her fingers tightened against his wrists, and her breath started to come faster.

He knew what was happening to her. He also knew he ought to stop.

But he was shameless—and he couldn’t even offer the excuse that he’d been carried away by the moment. On some subconscious level, at least, this was premeditated, and he knew it.

Ever since they had danced together, he’d been thinking of something like this, of finding an excuse to touch her, to take the heat that simmered between them and bring it to the boiling point.

He knew it would be this easy. Her senses had already been spiking, tonight, when they were dancing. In fact, for the past several days, every time they were together, they both rode dangerously close to the edge.

“Don’t stop,” she said softly. He looked down and realized that his arms had frozen in place.

“Josie, we should—”

“No, please.” She shut her eyes. “Please, Chase. It feels so good.”

He couldn’t say no. He was already too far gone. He began again, and she let her head fall back with a low moan. The dream catcher feathers dangled free, swaying to the same steady, unrelenting beat.

She was so unguarded, and so beautiful. He felt himself hardening, caught up in the rhythm, too, helplessly turned on by the sight of her flushed cheeks, her parted lips. By the feel of her fingers, tightening, trembling, holding on to his wrists as if they were the only steady spot in a tilting universe.

“Josie,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes. They were unfocused, shining and bemused.

He bent his arms slowly, bringing them up toward his chest. She didn’t let go. She followed them, bending her torso over the horn, making a soft noise as she pressed hard against the leather.

At the moment their lips met, she whispered his name.

That was all he needed. He freed his arms, and wrapped them around her, lifting her from the saddle.

She wound her legs around his hips, meeting his fire with her own. This wasn’t a game anymore. It wasn’t just a clever seduction with props and toys.

If there had been any seduction tonight, it was she who seduced him.

He didn’t want her to find her release there, against the stiff leather of the horn. He wanted her in his arms, with her mouth against his, so that when she cried out he could feel it reverberate all the way through him.

He kissed her hard, with every ounce of heat and conviction he’d held back the last time. He wound his hands into her hair, his fingers catching on feathers. He throbbed painfully against his jeans, as desperate as a teenager, needing to be in her now, before it was too late.

He carried her to the sofa, and they fell together against the cool, slick leather. She was still rocking under him, fumbling with his buckle. Somehow he managed her zipper, and began to slide the jeans down her silken thighs.

And then the doorbell rang.

 

SUSANNAH HATEDto bother Chase so late at night, especially after he’d been such a sweetheart at the party, square-dancing with old ladies who had big bank accounts and talking bloodlines with the old guys who had fat checkbooks, just to help the Burn Center.

Thanks, in part, to his special, homespun charm, the dance had been a financial success.

But the rest of her evening had been a complete disaster.

And frankly, she needed a friend.

No one came to the door. She wondered if he’d already gone to bed. Ordinarily he stayed up a while, reading in the library, but maybe he didn’t do that anymore, now that he had a guest in the house.

She rang again. Maybe he was on the back porch.

The door jerked open quite suddenly. It was Chase, and thank goodness he didn’t look annoyed at being disturbed in the middle of the night.

“Hey, there,” he said with a smile. “You’re up late. Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said. “Not really. Would it be okay if I come in? I think I just need someone to talk to.”

“Sure,” he said. He stepped away from the door. “Josie’s heading to bed, but I’m not quite ready to turn in.”

She looked over his shoulder and saw Josie on the first landing. The young woman looked uncomfortable, and oddly tousled.

“Hi,” Josie said, holding on to the banister with one stiff hand. She smiled, but the smile didn’t look right, either. Her lips seemed swollen. Susannah wondered whether she might have been crying. “The dance was fantastic, Susannah. I hope you made a ton of money for the Burn Center.”

“We did very well,” Susannah said, trying to identify the odd nuances of this situation. “I’m glad you could come.”

If she didn’t know better, she might think that she’d interrupted something awkward. The problem was, she was so unsettled by her own bad news that she couldn’t really focus on anything else.

“Me, too.” Josie smiled again. She lifted her hand in a stiff wave. “Well, good night, then.”

“Good night,” Chase said politely. Then, as Josie disappeared around the turn in the stairs, he gestured toward the library. “Want to talk in here?”

Susannah followed him in, less comfortable than she could ever remember feeling in Chase’s house. Something definitely wasn’t right.

“Have you and Josie been quarreling?”

Chase glanced at her over his shoulder. “Of course not. She just tires easily. It’s the pregnancy, I guess.”

Susannah nodded. “I guess so.”

It sounded plausible, but…

She’d known Chase so long, it was hard for him to hide anything from her. She knew all his expressions, all his tones. She knew what he looked like when he was lying about something minor, like telling her a haircut looked good when it didn’t, or telling his dad he’d missed curfew because he’d run out of gas.

She also knew what he looked like when he was lying about something important, like when he’d tried to tell her his marriage was doing fine. Or when he told her he really believed Paul was going to be all right.

This was something in between. Not a major whopper, but not a tiny white one, either.

“Want something to drink?” Chase made his way to the big granite bar over near the fireplace. “I’ve got some wine, some beer…”

“No, thanks,” she said. She went straight to the sofa and plopped down, so glad to get off her feet, which were killing her from hours of standing in those boots. The first thing she’d done when she got home was whip off the whole ridiculous outfit and put on a pair of jeans and sneakers instead.

The second thing she’d done was listen to her messages.

Big mistake.

Chase pulled a bottled water out for himself and twisted off the cap. “So what’s up? Nothing went wrong at the barn after we left, did it?”

“No.” Chase and Josie had hung in, helping with the breakdown until the bitter end, when the last caterer had put the last box of empty champagne glasses back into their vans. “Thanks for staying, by the way. You were a big help with Nikki.”

“No problem. She’s giving you hives these days, I know, but I like the little brat.” He took a swig of the water. “So…you were going to tell me what’s happened?”

The subtle prompt surprised her. He was ordinarily the most patient of all men. He’d seen her through a lifetime of crises, and he’d never pushed. When Trent left, Chase had sat beside her in silence for hours, holding her hand and waiting for her to feel like talking.

And that was another off note. Hewasn’t sitting beside her. He wasn’t holding her hand. He was still behind the bar.

She shifted on the sofa nervously. What was she missing?

She picked up a feather that lay on the arm of the sofa. She fingered it absently, using it to stall. If he had problems of his own tonight, she didn’t want to add to them. She could always tell him about Dean Pitcher’s message tomorrow.

She stroked the feather, pulling the vane softly until it lay smooth against its shaft. It wasn’t a big feather, but it was a pretty one. A glossy, blue-and-green peacock feather.

Her hands froze as she realized what she was holding.

It was a feather from the dream catcher Josie had worn in her hair tonight.

Suddenly everything made sense. Susannah understood, finally, exactly what she had interrupted.

Slowly, she let her gaze rise to meet his.

“Chase? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

He didn’t look guilty, didn’t flush, didn’t rush into over eager explanations. But he at least paid her the compliment of not denying it, of not pretending that she was being a typical paranoid female and imagining things.

“Not really, Sue. There’s nothing to tell, nothing important, anyhow. It was a momentary madness.”

“But…if she…if you—”

“Don’t let it upset you,” he said with a wry smile. “It might scareme a little—I honestly thought I was smarter than that. But there’s nothing about it that should scareyou . It didn’t go very far.”

“It didn’t?” She tried to return his smile. “Saved by the bell, so to speak?”

“More or less.” He ran his hand through his hair. “All I can say is…please don’t let it worry you. She’s going home on Monday.”

He looked miserable. He shouldn’t have let it come to this, and he would know that better than anyone. He’d hate it. He’d hate having to accept that he wasn’t perfect, that he wasn’t strong enough to do the right thing at all times.

Oh, God, what a mess.

Suddenly she remembered how sympathetic her friend Dina Waters had been to her tonight. Dina had teasingly asked Susannah if the minidress was the new romance strategy. “Gotta make sure Chase doesn’t fall for the pretty little friend from out of nowhere?”

Susannah had found that amusing. How dumb Dina was, she’d thought. Anyone with half a brain knew that you couldn’t catch Chase with bait like miniskirts and S and M boots. He didn’t go all drooly and brain-dead at the sight of a half-naked woman.

And why would she need to worry, anyhow? There was nothing between Chase and the pretty little friend from nowhere.

What a fool she was! Just as big a fool as she’d always been. All those years ago, Susannah had been the last to know that Trent was cheating on her. And apparently she hadn’t learned a thing. She was still the last to know.

She set the feather carefully down on the arm of the sofa. The real question was…now what?

Here were the new facts. The new reality. Chase and Josie were in the middle of a serious chemistry attack. They had already reached the point of shedding feathers together on the couch.

If Susannah hadn’t shown up when she did…

Was he even telling her the full truth? Had she actually shown up in time? And did it really matter? So what if Chase had become Josie Whitford’s lover? Chase and Susannah were friends, no more than that. The marriage was a business deal. A favor. She might wish he wouldn’t embarrass her by sleeping around, but if he did, so be it.

On the other hand, this tomcat behavior wasn’t like him. When he had casual relationships, they were always with women who knew the script. He never messed around with women too naive or too needy to understand exactly what he was offering.

Josie Whitford was both of those things. To the max.

So what if…what if Josie really meant something special to him? If that were true, did it mean Susannah had to bow out? Was she required to jump up, full of generosity and self-denial, and hand Chase over to Josie with a smile?

Damn it, no.She might have liked to be a saint, a heroine who would conveniently die of consumption or get hit by a bus just when the hero needed to be released. But she wasn’t a saint. She was a worried, tired woman scrabbling hard to save her business, save her home and save her little sister.

Chase’s promise to Susannah only lasted one year. Even if Josie had fallen deeply in love with her newfound hero, couldn’t she wait one measly year?

Susannah heard how selfish that attitude was, but she couldn’t make herself care. She had to ensure that Chase understood Susannah’s situation was desperate. Just as dire as any foolish girl who’d gotten herself pregnant by a cad charading as Chase.

“Chase…the reason I came.” She swallowed hard. “I got a message tonight, from Dean Pitcher.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chase’s voice was somber. He knew that Susannah had been holding her breath, waiting to see if Pitcher, her primary buyer, was going to be able to honor his contracts for this year’s crops.

“Yeah. He said he wanted to be the one to tell me. He’s going out of business. Apparently all the rumors were true.” She tried to give Chase a brave smile, but she was so tired, and the news had hit her so hard.

“He said he was sorry. Which was very nice, of course, but it won’t…” She had to fight for a steady voice. “Won’t find a home for my peaches.”

Finally, Chase came out from behind the bar and sat beside her on the couch. Finally, he took hold of her hand. It almost made her cry, because it was such a familiar comfort. And she had needed it so much.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll find another buyer. And when we sell off that west acreage, you’ll have a little cushion again. Things won’t seem so impossible.”

She shook her head.

He touched her chin. “You’ll make it, Sue. It won’t be long now.”

Not long until their wedding, that was what he meant. She leaned her head into his shoulder, relieved that there was no trace of ambivalence on his face, or in his voice.

But of course that was part of his code. He would never ask to be released from his promise. Directly or indirectly. She would never know what was in his heart. If he suffered, he would suffer in silence.

And still, selfish bitch that she was, she couldn’t offer to set him free.

“I’m so sorry, Chase,” she said. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But the truth is, I need your help now more than ever.”

 

WHENSUSANNAH FINALLYwent home, Chase walked slowly upstairs, dragging his hand along the banister, weariness filling his legs with lead.

He’d rather fall into his bed, fully dressed, and let sleep take him away. But this was something that had to be done.

He knocked on the guest room door.

Josie answered quickly. She was already in her nightgown. He’d bought her that nightgown—it seemed like so long ago. He’d bought it way back when he hadn’t even considered how the strap would slide off her too-thin shoulder, or how the linen would hint at the outline of her breasts.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was soft and slightly nervous. He wondered what she thought he had come for. He wondered if she’d been waiting for him.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened. I have no excuses. I wanted you, and I didn’t even try very hard to stop myself.”

“I know,” she said. “I—It was the same for me.”

Her face was very pale. Just behind her, the moonlight was pooling on the white canopy bed. If he let himself imagine the way she would look, lying under him, with the ivory glow on her fair skin, he would go crazy.

So he didn’t. He shut off the pictures. Turned off the tap that fed the fantasies.

“It was a terrible mistake,” he said. “It wasn’t fair to you. And it caused me to hurt someone I love very much.”

“Susannah?”

“Yes. She trusted me. She always has. And I let her down.” He took a deep breath. “You know Susannah and I are getting married next month.”

Josie nodded. “To save her ranch.”

“Yes, to save her ranch. And I could jump on that technicality, and use it to write my ticket to freedom. Sue and I aren’t in love, Josie. We aren’t lovers, and the marriage won’t change that.”

“I know.”

“I suspect that, if I asked her, she would give me permission to take someone else into my bed. She doesn’t require fidelity of me. But, the problem is, I require it of myself.”

Her eyes were very round and dark.

He grabbed the door frame and held on tight, as if those eyes might draw him into her spell. Sometimes she was just a graceful, laughing girl who made his heart feel light.

And sometimes, like now, she was the most haunting woman he’d ever met.

“I want you, Josie. God knows, I want you so much I don’t know how I’m going to be able to sleep. But I’m not going to come in, even if you would let me.”

She didn’t answer. He knew he should turn away and leave, but he wanted…more. Something he could hang on to. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to hear that she understood, that she wouldn’t hate him the way he hated himself.

“Josie?”

She still didn’t say anything. He wondered if she was trying not to cry. But wait…damn it, that was pretty damn egotistical. More likely she was just trying to stop herself from slapping him.

He wouldn’t blame her. He was being a first-class ass. Seesawing between this fake Prince Valiant purity and tossing her onto the sofa for a quick tumble.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’ve been fighting myself almost every minute since I met you.” He rubbed his hand across his brows. “Does this make sense to you at all? Damn it, Josie. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking,” she said, “that I wish the Chase Clayton I met had been even half the man you are.” She smiled sadly. “But most of all, I’m thinking I wish I’d met you first.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE DAY OF THE AUCTIONpreview was overcast and chilly, a marked contrast to the balmy spring days that preceded it. Josie borrowed one of Chase’s jackets, and when she put it on she got a poignant twist in her midsection. It smelled like him, and that was a smell she would always associate with unfulfilled longing.

The preview was being held at a local auction house, and the field was crowded with sheds and tents, round pens for showing and arenas for riding. Consignors, buyers, staff, vets and food vendors bustled about, giving the whole thing a circus atmosphere.

Chase and Josie ambled around the edges, stopping now and then to look at horses he liked, or to talk to owners he knew. He filled her in on interesting tidbits about the horses—who actually seemed a lot like people, she thought. Some were mean, some were sociable, some born to be great, and others spoiled by bad training. Some of them even had obsessive-compulsive disorders, brought about by stress or boredom.

Chase seemed to know everyone. He couldn’t go ten feet without being stopped by a backslap or a howdy. Josie noticed that he made a point of introducing her to every male under forty. Every time, she’d catch his eye, and subtly shake her head.

Sometimes she strolled behind him, just for the pleasure of watching him walk and talk and laugh with his friends. He was such a comfortable person, at home in his body and in his identity. He had only one manner—warm and down-to-earth. He treated rich, beautiful female owners exactly the same as he treated gap-toothed, wizened old horse handlers.

And clearly everyone loved him.

“I think I’ll get Doc Blaiser to look at the radiographs on White Tornado here,” he said after he’d spent about ten minutes with an impressive palomino. He pulled out his cell phone and began punching in numbers, obviously hoping to track down the vet. “It may take a while. Do you want to wait, or maybe just wander around a little?”

“I guess I’ll look around.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Let me know if you run into any old friends.”

She waved goodbye, then took off on her own, forcing herself not to look back. It was hard, though, to give up even a minute of this, her last day with him.

She knew she should be glad he’d come to his senses last night. She certainly hadn’t been capable of pulling back on her own. Thanks to his willpower, she’d been spared the humiliation of being bedded, then abandoned, by Chase Clayton not just once, but twice.

But she wasn’t glad. She would have given almost anything to have even that one foolish night with him.

As impossible as it sounded, she had fallen in love with this man.

She’d fallen in love with his eyes, his voice, his gentle hands. With his natural leadership, unquestioned by anyone on his ranch, from the horses to the cowboys. With his indifference to his millions, and his joy in simple things, like windswept nights filled with the cry of owls.

She’d fallen in love with his confidence, his laughter, his generosity. With his powerful, unstoppable instinct to safeguard the helpless.

And of course, with his bone-melting sex appeal.

It wasn’t anything she could explain or defend. She would be ashamed even to say the words out loud, considering how foolish she’d been just three months ago, falling for the impostor.

But logic had no power over her. She loved him. And, as she moved into this scary, uncertain future, she would have cherished the memory of that one night.

Instead, she would have to make do with this one last, rainy, politely distant day at the auction.

She stopped to look at a dapple gray, partly because its markings were so lovely, and partly because its shed seemed to be crowded with people. She scanned each face covertly, while she pretended to look at the distinctive green hats and key chains offered as giveaways by the sponsoring farm.

No one looked familiar. She started to elbow her way out, but one of the green-shirted staff stopped her, urging her to take a key chain. She clearly wasn’t going to escape until she did. So she pocketed one, thanking the man, and made her way back out to the open arena.

She glanced back toward the palomino’s shed, but Chase was already gone. She wondered how long it would take to look at the X-rays. Would he buy that beautiful horse? Or would the radiographs reveal a defect, a bone spur, maybe, or a cyst?

The secret flaw hiding inside the otherwise perfect animal.

And, however much he might have liked the horse, Chase would walk away. He would have no choice.

She wandered aimlessly for at least twenty minutes, looking at a dozen horses, before she encountered a section of vendors showing off their bits and halters, saddles, supplements and stable supplies. Some tables invited you to join riding clubs. Others offered dressage lessons, pony rides for birthday parties, Western wear or silver belt buckles the size of dinner plates.

One table advertised a rodeo. Out of habit, she picked up their brochure, which was thick with color photos of bucking broncs and cowboys with their arms in the air and their hats flying out behind them.

She flipped through it perfunctorily. She had looked at so many cowboy faces in the past two weeks. They were all beginning to look the same.

And then, on the second page, it happened.

She saw him.

She paused, wondering if she was hallucinating. Then she squinted, holding the picture up closer, wondering if she was wrong.

It was hard to be sure. Objectively, his face was just a button-sized collection of grainy pixels rather poorly reproduced. He looked a little like Alexander Clayton, and a little like Chase himself. Heck, he even looked a little like the cowboy manning the rodeo table right now. Young, blond, male…

Objectively, it wasn’t possible to be sure.

But her body knew. Her heart began to beat faster, and her hand began to shake.

She turned blindly. She had to find Chase. She squeezed the brochure so hard it bent in her hand, and she began to run.

She spotted him only ten feet from the palomino’s tent. He saw her coming, and instinctively he frowned. He began to lope toward her.

“What’s wrong?” He grabbed her arm. “Is it the baby?”

“No,” she said. She held out the brochure. “It’s Chase.”

 

WHILECHASE MADE CALLS, Josie waited in the kitchen of the Double C. She sat at the large table in the breakfast alcove, holding on to a large mug of hot tea.

Imogene had made it for her, to help her settle her nerves. For the first few minutes, the housekeeper had hovered a bit, offering sandwiches and sweaters, and the occasional gentle “It’ll be fine, darling. Things always turn out fine in the end.”

But finally she’d seemed to sense that Josie would rather be alone.

“I guess I’ll do the living room flowers,” she’d said reluctantly. “But if you need me, just holler. I’ll be back in a flash.”

When she was gone, Josie stared out the bay window, where the horses were playing tag and the gardeners were planting something bold and red. Someone was delivering large brown boxes to the ranch manager’s office, just on the other side of the paddock.

She liked watching the routine of the Double C plod on. It was strangely comforting to see how little impact her personal drama had on the rest of the world.

No matter what Chase learned about the cowboy in the brochure, none of this clockwork efficiency would stop. The ranch would go on. It would thrive.

And so, somehow, would she.

She touched her stomach tentatively. She could feel a change there, a slight roundness. It felt solid, firm to the touch—which was somehow reassuring. It made the baby feel less fragile. Less dependent on its mother, who had no idea how to take care of it yet.

It gave her hope that, in the end, she could do this without screwing up. No matter how confused her head and heart might be, her body knew what to do. It was already preparing a safe cocoon in which the baby could grow.

She let her hand relax, resting over the bump. She cupped her palm across the curve, and massaged it slightly with her fingers.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I don’t know about Daddy, but I will always be here.”

A few minutes later, she heard Chase coming down the hall. She gave her belly one last, encouraging touch, and then she straightened her back and turned to face the door.

She knew just by looking at his face. They had found him.

“His name is Anthony Maguire,” he said without preamble. “I know him. I fired him two years ago, for mistreating one of my horses.”

She squeezed her hands together in her lap. Her heart was beating too fast, and she needed somehow to slow it down.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. We talked to the rodeo company. He hasn’t worked for them in quite a while. This picture is from a year ago. But they have the photo release form he signed at the time.”

He tossed the brochure onto the table. Then he sat in the chair next to her and took her hands. “It has to be him, Josie. Do you have any idea what kind of coincidence it would take for you to ID one random rodeo cowboy picture out of the thousands floating around this county, only to find out this one used to work for me?”

She nodded. Intellectually, she understood. But emotionally…it simply didn’t seem possible.

“The truth is, after so many failures, I’d sort of begun to believe I’d imagined him.”

He smiled. He still held on to her hands. “I know. I sometimes wished you had, too. But unfortunately, the facts were always there, proving he was real-life flesh and blood.”

“Yes.” She thought of the tiny life, floating inside her, perhaps sensing Josie’s heartbeat like the strange pulsing of a distant moon. And she couldn’t be sorry. Whatever else this man did to her, he had left her with this gift, this miracle that was better than either of them could ever be.

Chase tightened his grip on her hands. “Tell me what you want to do.”

That, of course, was the ultimate question.

Whatdid she want to do? Everything felt different now. When she’d first discovered she was pregnant, she’d been angry and sick. And afraid. So afraid.

She’d had only one thought. To find him, and make him own up to his sins. And pay for them, too. In cold hard cash, if possible.

She had wanted to force him to save her. One way or another.

But then she’d met the real Chase, and somehow he had taught her how to save herself. He’d taught her what real strength looked like. And real love, too. He’d taught her what it felt like to really love a man.

And what it felt like to love herself.

Today, the idea of hunting this man down like a dog, of bringing him to his knees…none of those things felt quite the same.

“What did you say his name was?”

“Anthony Maguire.”

She said the name over in her mind, trying it on. It was hard to make the switch. “Why didn’t you recognize him from the sketch the artist made? It wasn’t perfect, but it was close.”

“Maguire didn’t look like this when he worked for me. For one thing, he’s lost about forty or fifty pounds, I’d say. He was never a very tall guy, but he was a good bit overweight. And he’s changed his hair—dyed it, definitely. He used to be brunette. And he used to have a beard.”

She frowned. “But that’s—so much change…that almost has to be deliberate.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think so, too. But it doesn’t have to be criminal. Maybe he just wanted to reinvent himself. He wasn’t very well liked when he was here. He was always putting on airs, they say, always acting as if he was better than the other hands.”

“Do you remember him well?”

“Not really. Trent had to remind me about that part. All I remember is finding him and a couple of other guys one day, racing three of my best horses out in the south pastures. They hadn’t asked permission, they just decided it would be fun. This guy was on Alcatraz, and using his whip like a madman. Hand up above his shoulder, stabbing down, hitting over and over, till he drew blood.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah. I fired all three of them, but Maguire got the worst of it. I didn’t hold back, not even a little.” He shook his head. “I’m not surprised the guy hates me. And frankly, the feeling is mutual.”

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, and stared out through the bay window, as if remembering all the drama of that day. Josie tried to picture the man she’d known as Chase. She tried to imagine his hands holding the riding crop and beating the horse with it.

The same hands that had touched her.

She felt her stomach tighten, and a rush of morning sickness, the first in days, moved through her.

“I need to know what you want to do, Josie. Obviously he has to be stopped. And if he has any assets, he should be forced to help out with the baby. But do you want to get involved in that personally? I can always sic Stilling on him. Establishing paternity shouldn’t be difficult. There are legal avenues that wouldn’t require you to lay eyes on him, if you didn’t want to.”

She hesitated. What was the wise choice? What, in the end, would be best for her child? Was money that important? Would even a million dollars be worth it, if it meant bringing a lying, violent bastard into their lives?

“I want to see him,” she said. “I want to look into his eyes one more time, now that I know…the truth. And then I’ll decide what to do.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

IT WAS, CHASE THOUGHT, like finding the right combination to a safe. Once they had a name, the steel door swung open, and the rest of the information cascaded into their hands.

Four hours later, the bastard was theirs.

Ironically, he lived in San Antonio. They had probably been within five miles of him the day they came to check out Alexander.

His house looked much like the others on his street. Small, ordinary, well kept. A few azaleas, looking their best right about now, and a satellite dish on the roof.

You sure couldn’t tell from the exterior that a scumbag lived inside.

As they reached the front stoop, they heard the television droning through the half-open window. A little Honda, not too old—not even as old as Josie’s car had been, sat in the carport, so they were pretty sure the bastard was home.

Chase glanced at Josie. She appeared surprisingly calm. Maybe she was numb. She’d been very quiet on the drive over.

“You ready?” He gave her a smile.

“Ready enough,” she said. And then, taking one deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

First the television grew quiet, and then the thin door opened. A pretty young blonde with shoulder-length hair and a lot of freckles stood there, one hand on the doorknob and the other on her stomach.

Her very pregnant stomach.

Chase felt Josie go utterly still.

“Hi,” the woman said. She scanned them quickly, as if trying to decide whether they might be selling something. “Can I help you?”

Josie’s face seemed frozen. She was smiling, but it was like an image caught on a computer monitor that had already lost its power. It wasn’t happening in real time.

“We’re looking for Anthony Maguire,” Chase said, quickly covering the pause. “Is this his house?”

“Yes.” The woman’s light, curving brows knitted. “I’m Tony’s wife. Bonnie. Can I help you?”

The woman clearly wasn’t the defiant type, but she wasn’t an idiot, either. She had no intention of telling them anything else until she had some idea what was going on. Chase thought it was quite possible she’d opened the door to strangers with bad news before.

Bill collectors, maybe?

Other girlfriends?

Actually, she looked like a nice woman, with round, girlish features and an innocent expression in her brown eyes. Too bad she’d picked such a louse to marry.

And have kids with.

Josie finally spoke up. “Is Anthony at home?”

The other woman cocked her head. “I’m sorry—I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I’m Chase Clayton.” He smiled. “Tony used to work for me.”

Josie made a jerky movement, but before she could protest he reached in his pocket and pulled out one of his cards. He held it out to the woman in the doorway.

“It was three years ago. I don’t think you guys were married then.”

She studied the card, turning it over as if she wanted to be hard-nosed and skeptical, but obviously impressed by the embossed Double C brand.

“No,” she said. She seemed to relax now that she knew he wasn’t a lawyer or a bill collector. “We’ve only been married two years. But if you’ll come in, Mr. Clayton, I’m sure Tony will—”

Her soft Texas drawl was interrupted by a gruff male voice.

“I’ll handle this, Bonnie,” the man said.

Bonnie glanced over her shoulder. “Are you sure, honey? If you need to rest, I can bring them into the living room and—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

With a worried, slightly embarrassed smile, the woman bowed out, making room for the man to take her place.

As soon as he came into sight, Josie’s paralyzed silence ended. She made a small, disbelieving sound.

Chase came close to doing the same thing. The man who stood before them had the blond hair and the blue eyes Josie had described. But the rest of his face…

The rest was hardly human.

 

“LOOK, I’M NOTdefending myself,” Anthony Maguire said dully. “I told you I don’t blame you for being angry.”

Josie watched him shift his weight on his crutches, trying to get comfortable. It was difficult to see him struggle so hard without wanting to look away.

With one of his legs in a cast up to the thigh, it had taken forever for them to walk down to Chase’s truck. But Anthony had insisted on doing so. Obviously he hadn’t wanted his wife to hear the conversation he knew was coming.

Josie had walked just in front of him, so that she didn’t have to look at him, or risk touching him. From the left profile, he appeared almost the same. But from the right side, where the bronc had trampled him, the entire shape of his cheek and jaw was wrong.

Hideous.

But also pitiful.

They’d been down here for almost ten minutes now, listening in shocked silence while Anthony described the rodeo accident that had left him so broken and disfigured.

It had happened just a few days after he left Josie. Finally she learned why he’d bolted from Riverfork, ditching Josie without even a goodbye call.

After several months of being estranged, his wife had called him. Bonnie wanted to try again.

This time they could make it work, she’d said. This time they had a good enough incentive. She was going to have a baby.

When she heard that, Josie glanced at Chase. She couldn’t read his expression. Like her, he seemed reluctant to speak. Neither of them wanted to break the flow of the other man’s story.

Apparently the rodeo had been Anthony’s income, ever since he was fired from the Double C. He did all right, he said. Not great, but enough to buy this little house.

He’d always been fairly conservative, balancing his physical safety with his need to earn a living. But when he and Bonnie had separated, he’d decided to go for broke. And he’d won big. Right around Christmas, he was golden, winning everything he entered.

That was the money he’d used to impress Josie. He’d blown it all in one month. He shrugged. It wasn’t cheap to pull off an impersonation of a millionaire.

“I guess that’s why most people don’t even try,” Chase said drily.

There was a pause, in which Josie could see Anthony’s hands flexing and unflexing on the handle of the crutch.

“Most people haven’t had to spend a year kissing the ground at the great Chase Clayton’s feet.” For the first time, Anthony sounded belligerent. “The way I saw it, you owed me.”

“I owe you, all right,” Chase said. “I owe you a little vacation in the county jail.”

“Don’t take that superior tone with me, Clayton. I’m not a fool. Nothing I did was illegal. I didn’t steal anything from you. I didn’t use your precious credit cards or your bank accounts. I just borrowed a little of the glow that comes with being a Clayton.”

“Interesting distinction. What do you say we take it to a judge or two, and see what they think?”

“And the judges would just happen to be your drinking buddies, right?” Anthony laughed harshly. “You people are so goddamn corrupt.”

Josie saw a pulse jump in Chase’s jaw. She touched his elbow, which was as hard as a rock. She squeezed it softly, just to remind him that she was here.

The connection helped her to focus, too. She forced herself to look at Anthony, hoping her horror didn’t show too clearly on her face.

“So how did you get hurt? I mean, if the rodeos were going so well…”

Anthony looked back at her. He smiled, horribly, through the unnatural jaw, connected with metal plates. His nose had been broken, and his cheekbone sagged under his right eye. The imprint of a horseshoe branded his right cheek, and everywhere searing scars crisscrossed the once-smooth skin.

Somewhere in all that, she could almost glimpse the handsome man who had so suavely romanced her. But it was like finding the singed corner of a letter buried in the ashes of a fire. It only accented the loss.

“The luck always changes, Josie.Always. You know that. I’d taken a month off, the month I spent with you. I wasn’t in the greatest shape. But with a baby on the way, Bonnie and I needed the money. So I gambled, hoping for the big purse.”

He shrugged. “And I lost. Big-time. The bronc went nuts, I hit the ground, and I’ve been drinking soup and milk through a straw ever since. And, of course, the morphine. ThankGod for the morphine.”

She opened her mouth—but his story had snatched the words right out of her throat. Even though the entire trip to San Antonio had been spent practicing how she would show him her contempt, suddenly she couldn’t utter a single syllable.

He had done terrible things, both to her and to Chase. But was there any point in trying to punish him anymore?

Fate had tracked him down far faster than she could.

And Fate had laid him low.

“So let me guess.” Chase didn’t appear to be similarly moved. “Now I guess you expect us to say, hey, no problem, it’s all good—just because you went and got yourself trampled?”

Anthony laughed, low and tight. “No way, boss man. Not you. Remember, I’ve seen your particular brand of justice, and it lacks a certain, shall we say…mercy?”

“Sure. Let’s say that. I show no mercy to lying, vicious sons of bitches. That’s something I can live with. You show no mercy to innocent young women, one of whom is unfortunate enough to actually be married to you. And even, God help her, carrying your—”

Josie demurred softly. Hearing it, Chase stopped himself short. He turned to her. “Okay. Once again, Josie, it’s up to you. What do you want to do with this pathetic weasel?”

Anthony moved forward, hopping on his one good foot.

“Listen,” he said roughly. “I don’t care what you do. All I ask is that, if we’re going to have to tell Bonnie, let me be the one to do it.”

Chase ignored him. “Josie? What’s it going to be? Just say the word, and we can squash this bastard like a bug.”

She pretended to think a little, though in reality her mind was already made up. Bonnie loved him. Bonnie probably was the only thing in the world that stood between Anthony Maguire and true despair.

And there was Bonnie’s baby…

And he wasn’t going to be masquerading as Chase again any time soon. The next young woman he approached was far more likely to scream than swoon.

“Look at him,” she said. “I’d say he’s already been effectively neutralized, wouldn’t you? Anything we did now would be overkill.”

“Damn it, Josie.” Chase narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure? No matter what he says, the law is on your side, in every way. There’s nothing you’d like to tell him?”

She shook her head firmly, hoping Chase would get the message. “Nothing.”

“And nothing you wantfrom him? Not a dime? Not even a little revenge?”

“Not one single thing,” she said. She held out her hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

 

ON THE DRIVE HOME, they didn’t even try to maintain a sensible distance. He pulled her up against him, wrapped his arm around her slender, shaking shoulders, and let her weep into his shirt.

It was good for her, he knew. She’d misted up a few times, but through this whole ordeal he’d never seen her really break down. She was overdue for a good cry.

And besides, this morning had been hell. Even Chase had been moved by the sight of that poor bastard, with his face all stomped to hell. He could only imagine how it had affected Josie. After all, just a few months ago she had found Maguire charming enough to…

But Chase didn’t really like to think about that. Even while he was feeling sorry for Anthony Maguire, he had been fighting the primitive male urge to beat the guy to raw meat, just because he’d had the nerve to put his dirty hands on Josie.

How caveman was that? Apparently civilization was a pretty thin veneer covering over some fairly primitive emotions.

But he hadn’t done it. That was something, right? He hadn’t done it because Maguire was already such a mess—and because Josie hadn’t wanted him to.

She had such a forgiving nature. He knew that she was crying now not so much for herself and her lost dream, but for Maguire’s pain. And maybe for that poor little rag doll wife of his.

Chase stroked the side of Josie’s head, running his fingers along the silk of her hair. Now and then he’d smooth the tears away from her cheek. He murmured soft noises that didn’t really mean anything—except that he understood.

But though they were intense, the tears didn’t last long. He had just barely pulled his car onto Interstate 35 heading north when she lifted her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling a tissue out to wipe her eyes. “I think it’s—”

“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to explain. You’ve kept a lot of stuff bottled up inside. It’s good to let it out.”

She nodded. “I guess so.”

He pulled her back down to his shoulder. She resisted for a second, and then she let herself relax against him. They drove that way for a long time, in silence, while the motels, and gas stations and all the unlovely hodgepodge of a city’s outskirts rolled by on either side.

He knew she might be hungry, and he thought about stopping. But a low-level anxiety kept drumming through his veins. Sooner or later, she was going to start talking again about going home.

He wanted to prevent that. If he could just get her back to the Double C, where he knew she had begun to feel at home, he’d feel safer. Imogene would feed her, and pet her and generally baby her until she felt better.

Maybe she could take a nap. And then, when this morning’s trauma had faded to a more manageable distance, they could sit on the porch and talk about what she should do now.

They were about twenty minutes outside Austin when his luck ran out.

“Chase,” she said, lifting her head. “I want to go home.”

“We’ll be there soon,” he said.

“No. Not the ranch. My home.”

“You want to drive all the way to Riverfork tonight?”

She shook her head. “No. My parents live just south of Austin.” She put the palm of her hand on his chest. “Can you take me there, Chase? I want to see my mother.”

 

SUSANNAH WAS WAITINGfor Chase at the Double C. She wanted to get home and check on Nikki, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave without hearing what had happened in San Antonio. So she kept in touch by cell phone, driving Nikki wild with frustration.

“I’m doing my homework, for God’s sake. Get a life of your own, why don’t you?”

By ten, Susannah had fallen asleep on the sofa. The sound of the banjo clock in the hall woke her up at eleven. And then again at midnight.

By twelve-thirty, just when she was starting to get really worried, she heard Chase’s truck pull into the drive, its tires crunching slowly along the oyster-shell surface.

She jumped to her feet, smoothed her hair and her skirt and met him on the porch.

“Chase!” She reached up to give him a kiss, shocked by the drawn, tight lines of his tired face. “Did you find him?”

He nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay, Sue? It’s been a long day.”

“But can’t you tell me anything? Did he deny it? Are you going to file charges? Is he going to help Josie with the baby?”

“No,” he said flatly, “no, and no.” There was no point in denying it. “Josie didn’t want me to prosecute. And as for helping…the man is a total wreck. He doesn’t have the wits or the assets to help anybody, including himself.”

Susannah’s heart fell. She had so hoped that something good would come of this. Something that could make her feel less guilty about everything.

“Oh, poor Josie. How did she take it?”

He shrugged. “It was hard. But the girl’s got grit. She’s going to be fine.”

“I’m sure she will.” She looked out toward the truck. It seemed to be empty. Could Josie be lying down, asleep on the seat? Maybe the long day had been too much for her, after last night’s excitement. She was tons better, but she didn’t have her full strength back yet.

“Can I help her with anything? Does she need something to eat? Imogene’s asleep already, but I could—”

“No, Sue. She doesn’t need anything.” The porch light caught his eyes. They were as bleak as blue ice.

“Chase.” Susannah’s hands felt slightly cold. “Where is she?”

He shook his head. “She’s gone.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

AFTER LUNCH THE NEXT DAY, Susannah drove her Jeep right up to the ranch manager’s office, yanked on the emergency brake and killed the engine. She knew Trent was here. His Mercedes hugged the side of the building, the sleek machine drowsing elegantly under the warm sun. It even looked like him, she thought. Glamorous and bored on the outside, dangerously powerful and primitive on the inside.

She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and set her jaw. Then she jumped down, before she could change her mind.

She didn’t knock. She just shouldered open the door and walked straight past his secretary, all the way to his desk.

He looked up, with one sardonically cocked eyebrow.Of course , she thought. He was far too cool to admit to being surprised to see her.

“Hey, there,” he said. He slowly scanned her from head to toe, taking in the tailored shirt, the pleated linen slacks. “I liked your miniskirt better.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

“No.” She decided to dispense with the whole prologue she’d created and just get to the point. The sooner she did, the sooner she could get out of here.

“I wanted to tell you…” She took another deep breath. “Chase is in love with Josie.”

“That I also know.” He shrugged. “Is there anyone who doesn’t? Except perhaps Chase himself?”

“Maybe not. As you may remember, when it comes to things like this, I’m always the last to know.”

“Yes.” He smiled. “And the last to forgive, as well.”

She felt her blood pressure rising. “Look, Trent. I don’t have time for this.”

He picked up his pen and started to sign one of the many documents that littered his desk. “Then by all means, don’t let me keep you.”

She growled softly under her breath. How did he do this to her every time? He was the only human being on earth who could make her lose her cool with just the slightest tweak of his tone, or angle of his eyebrow.

She reached out and wrapped her hand over the top of the pen, stalling its motion. “Damn it, you self-satisfied jerk. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“With Chase.”

Trent sat back in his big leather chair. He watched her through hooded eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to marry me.”

 

THE NEW RANCH HANDwas clearly surprised to see Chase come into the south stables midafternoon, just about the time they were sending the family horses to the turnout pen.

“Do you need me to saddle up one of the horses, sir?” Richie had that eagerness that only the very young ever have for their jobs. “We’ve already turned out most of them, but I could—”

“No, that’s fine.” Chase waved him off. “I just felt like taking a look around.”

The truth was, Chase found the whole aura of the stables comforting. It was such a simple place. Whitewashed wooden walls; wood shavings on the floors; uniform, roomy stalls. The tack hanging along the walls was the only decoration, but he’d take saddles and bridles over crystal and china any day.

In here, everything went according to schedule, and the horses were easy to please. Treat them fairly, feed them on time, give them plenty of fresh air and time to stretch their legs, and they’d do anything you asked them to do.

Captain Kirk was still in his stall. He was getting too old to run with the crowd, but someone rode him every day. Sometimes, Chase found time to do it, and when he didn’t, he missed his time with the old guy.

He got close enough to the stall to let Captain Kirk nuzzle his jacket. The horse was spoiled, of course. He knew that Chase never showed up without bringing a treat.

“Okay. Which pocket?”

He had a carrot in his left, and one of Imogene’s apple-and-oats cookies in the other. Captain Kirk had a sweet tooth, so he knew which one he wanted. He nuzzled at the right pocket, lifted his lip and nickered softly.

Chase’s dad had been horrified when he realized that his young son let his new horse poke around his pockets. He thought it was a bad habit, and could lead to trouble down the road. But Chase had been lucky. Captain Kirk never pushed his boundaries, never nipped or got too pushy.

He fed the horse the cookie in small pieces, then dusted off his hands. “Yeah, you’re a sweet old soul, aren’t you, buddy?”

“Actually,” Trent said from behind him, “I am. Thank you for noticing.”

Chase chuckled. “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

Trent strolled up to the Dutch doors and gave Captain Kirk a good scratch on the withers.

“Not much,” he said. “Two things, really. First, I’m just wondering how you’re doing.”

Chase pulled the carrot out of his pocket and concentrated on breaking it into pieces. The old Captain might prefer the cookie, but he’d never say no to a carrot. He’d developed quite an appetite in his old age.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Got a lot to catch up on, of course. I didn’t get much done while Josie was here.”

Trent didn’t answer right away. He just leaned against the stall and watched Chase feed the carrot to the horse. Finally he smiled. “Yeah. I can see you haven’t got a second to spare.”

Chase started to protest. But what was the use? Trent knew him too well.

He frowned. “Man, I need to get some new friends.”

“You mean ones who don’t know where the bodies are buried?” Trent put his hands in his pockets. “Naw, it would be too much work breaking them in. Much easier just to be honest about how you feel. It’s got to feel weird, after having her living right in your house. She had something, didn’t she?”

Chase had to be careful not to say too much. If he let himself, he could definitely disgrace the cowboy tradition of silent stoicism.

“Yeah. She definitely did have something. Now that she’s gone, the house feels like…like someone pulled the power line down.”

“Yeah. You’ve got a couple of ranch hands who are brokenhearted this morning. Apparently they worshipped her from afar. And Imogene sniffled all over the pancakes she brought out to us. I almost couldn’t eat.”

“I guess we’ll all just have to get over it. I tried to get her to stay a little longer. She could get a job in town, if she’s sick of being idle. It’s crazy for her to go somewhere she isn’t wanted, when—”

He stopped, hearing the intensity in his voice. Captain Kirk nuzzled his cheek sympathetically.

“It’s okay,” Trent said. “Heck, even I miss her.”

Chase didn’t want to think about it anymore. He felt like a man who was entering prison, or going to war. He was committed to Susannah for one year, one month and two days.

Until he’d served his time, he couldn’t say a damn thing to Josie. He couldn’t even ask her if she cared about him. Couldn’t ask whether she’d even want to see him again, when the marriage was over.

And he certainly couldn’t ask if she’d be willing to wait.

Bad enough that it would be rough on Sue, knowing that he was just counting the minutes until the cell doors clanged open. Much worse, it would be asking the impossible of Josie.

By the time he was free again, the baby would be about seven months old. Her pregnancy, her delivery, all of that would be endured alone. She couldn’t wait that long to find someone to share her joys, share her burdens, share the miracle of the baby. She needed help now.

And as Trent had just pointed out, half the men who laid eyes on her would gladly volunteer for the task.

“So. You said you had two things. What is thing number two?”

Trent smiled serenely, looking exactly like the cat who had just swallowed the canary. “Oh, nothing big. I just came down to return something to you.”

“What?”

Trent brought his hand out of his pocket. “This,” he said. He stretched out his hand.

Curious, Chase held out his own. And then, with a little, glittering plop, Trent dropped a diamond ring into his palm.

“What the hell?” He turned the cool, platinum band over, checking out the distinctive square-cut chunk of white fire. It couldn’t be…. He had to be imagining things. But it was.

He looked up. “This is Susannah’s engagement ring.”

“Not anymore,” Trent said. “Sorry, pal, but we’ve had a change of plans.”

 

JOSIE HADN’T SPENT A NIGHTunder her stepfather’s roof in seven years.

To her surprise, a lot had changed since then.

For one thing, Walter seemed to have mellowed a little.

He had always been a creature of routine. He liked his dinner on time, his home quiet and his wife at his beck and call. He liked to reign supreme over an orderly kingdom.

That part hadn’t changed. When she showed up at his door, he wasn’t happy to see her, and he didn’t pretend to be. But he didn’t say anything downright hostile or insulting, which was a marked contrast to the last time they’d met.

Of course, his civility might have been because he was a little intimidated by Chase. It was one thing to berate your dependent child, in the privacy of your home, where you are the undisputed king. But it was something altogether different to show that side of yourself in front of a man of money, influence and great personal presence.

Maybe the most amazing change, though, was in her mother. For the first time, her mom seemed to have some fire inside. After Chase left, when Walter started holding forth about how irresponsible it was to create a child you couldn’t support, Josie’s mother touched his arm and said, “None of that, now. I’m thrilled about this baby.”

It was offered in a gentle tone, and with a conciliatory smile, but, for Josie, it seemed to be a huge milestone. For the first time in her conscious life, Josie dared to hope her mother might become an ally.

And that was perfect timing. Because she could really use a friend.

She couldn’t believe how much it hurt to lose Chase.

If she had ever wondered whether her feelings for the fake Chase had been love, she knew better now. When he disappeared from her life, she had been disappointed, embarrassed, even depressed.

But that was all.

This loss…this was something as different from that as the acorn is different from the oak. This emptiness hollowed out her heart, and throbbed inside her soul.

More than once, in that long first night, as she tried to sleep in the bed of her childhood, she considered calling him.

She had never told him that she loved him. She would do that now. She would tell him that, no matter what happened, she would wait for him.

Somehow she stopped herself from making that call. It was wrong on so many levels. First, the declaration would hang there, in the background of his relationship with Susannah, like a fog. They might never be able to see their way through that fog, and find each other.

She knew what Chase had said, but no one could really predict what the future held for his marriage. He and Susannah intended for it to last only a year, a partnership between old friends, a way to save the orchard.

But what if something bigger should grow? What if some night, out of loneliness or need, they turned to each other and discovered love there, like violets growing unnoticed under a canopy of trees?

And what if, quite by accident, they found themselves with a baby on the way?

No, she couldn’t be the invisible third party in their marriage. It wasn’t fair to them—and it wasn’t, in the end, even fair to herself. She needed to move on. She needed to find a way to make a life for the baby, a life that wasn’t dependent on any man.

Not even her stepfather.

The minute she got up the next morning, she studied the classifieds. No more restaurant work. She needed a full-time job, an office job with health insurance, a steady paycheck and the kind of hours you could build a family around.

She filled out some online applications, faxed her resume to a couple of places and phoned another. One legal office called back almost immediately, wanting to set up interviews.

It was encouraging. No one was offering a huge salary, but she was willing to start at the bottom.

She wished she could tell Chase about it. Surely it wouldn’t be evil just to call him as a friend, just to tell him about the progress.

Evil? Maybe not. But foolish? Definitely.

She put the phone down and went out to join her mother in the garden.

The suburban yard wasn’t the Double C, with its spreading acres of flowering trees and green fields, but her mother’s backyard bed was a forty-by-twenty-foot work of art.

During Josie’s growing-up years, she had resented the hours her mother spent out here, planting phlox, fertilizing columbine. She had always refused to help, even when her mother asked.

But now she finally understood some things a little better. Even her mother. She saw that her mother had needed some time to herself, a place where she was the queen, instead of merely the handmaiden to the king.

Obviously, Ellen Whitford hadn’t been the perfect mother. But maybe she’d been as good as she knew how to be.

Josie climbed down the back stairs and crossed the perfectly trimmed green lawn. She knelt next to her mother and picked up the orange-handled weeder. “Shall I help get these dandelions out of here?”

Her mother wasn’t big on discussing emotion, but her expression was thanks enough.

“Okay, then,” Josie said, squeezing her mother’s hand. “Let’s get this done.”

They spent two hours out there, until the sun dipped far enough to make the house cast long, olive-green rectangles on the grass. They talked more honestly than Josie could ever remember talking to her mother. It filled one of the empty places in Josie’s heart. She wondered if it had done the same for her mother.

They both had difficulties to face. They were both trying to find the courage it would take. Maybe they could help each other along the way.

As the shadows grew closer, and eventually nipped at their heels, they decided to call it a day.

Her mother went inside first, nervously saying something about getting dinner started in time. Josie let it pass. Her mother’s relationship was too complicated for her to fully understand—and besides, it was really not her business. Something had kept the two together all these years.

And although Josie wouldn’t have wanted a lifetime of anxious servility, she did understand the longing for security, for the comfort of knowing someone would always be there.

Maybe someday she would find that.

When she thought the words, she tried to force herself not to think of Chase. She tried to leave a blank where the “someone” should be—tried to leave an opening that would give some man a chance.

But she couldn’t. The only someone she wanted was the one she’d left behind.

She stayed outdoors a few more minutes, enjoying the last of the sunlight. She sat cross-legged in the dirt, the knees of her jeans black with earth, and her fingernails dark all the way down to the quick.

And then she saw a new shadow, moving around the side of the house. This one was tall, and narrow, and walking directly toward her.

Her heart skipped a beat, though she tried to settle it down. Why was she such a dreamer? It was probably her stepfather, or maybe a neighbor….

But her heart knew better. It picked up its pace, until by the time the shadow cleared the house, her pulse was speeding so fast she could hardly breathe.

She rose to her feet, dropping the weeder into the mulch.

“Chase!”

He didn’t say a word, not even her name. He just took her in his arms, and he kissed her, the way she had always dreamed of being kissed. She didn’t even think of resisting. It was something she had to do, like taking a breath of air after swimming a long time under water.

She put her arms up and ran her fingers through his hair. His lovely, golden hair.

Finally, he released her lips, though he still held her tightly against him.

“I have something to tell you, Josie,” he said. “And I don’t care how crazy it sounds, or how impossible it seems.”

“Neither do I,” she said with a shaky smile. “In fact, I have quite recently begun to believe in impossible things.”

“Then believe this. I love you. I tried to let you go. I know you have decisions to make, and problems to face. I’m asking you to face them with me.”

“But—”

He shook his head. “If you say one more word about how you can’t accept my charity, I’ll go mad. This isn’t about you needing me, Josie. This is about me needing you. The truth is that I cannot live without you.”

She hadn’t been about to say anything of the sort. The joy of being in his arms made thinking very difficult. She hadn’t been able to move past the one big obstacle, the same one that had been between them from the beginning.

“What about Susannah?”

His face sobered. “Unfortunately, she has decided she can’t marry me after all. She’s had a better offer.”

Josie laughed. “Now I know you’re lying. A better offer? There is no such thing.”

“For Susannah there is,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “She’s going to marry the man she’s loved since she was twelve years old. She’s going to marry Trent.”

“Trent? But everybody knows that Susannah…well, I don’t know how else to put it. Imogene told me that Susannahhates Trent!”

“That’s true, too,” he admitted. “It’s a very tangled relationship. But that’s what will make it fun.”

“Can you be sure, though, that she really wants this? Maybe she’s just trying to set you free. Maybe she suspected that something was going on between us. When she came to the house, after the dance—”

“She knew, of course. She understands me pretty well, and it’s hard to fool her. She knew I’d fallen in love with you. I’m sure that’s why she broke down and proposed to Trent.”

She searched his face, which was glowing in the golden light of the sinking sun. Behind him, the amaryllis were blazing, as if they were on fire.

“Are you okay with that? You don’t feel guilty about letting her down? You’re not worried that she might feel…abandoned?”

“Nope. I’ve just put her in the hands of a man who adores her. I’ve just given her a chance to get her life right. I don’t see how a best friend could possibly be asked to do more than that.”

He grinned. “Besides, if I try to change things now, Trent will never forgive me. He’s been waiting for this miracle for ten whole years.”

She didn’t know what to say. She hated to let herself believe it could be true. The idea that Susannah’s needs no longer took precedence over hers…

“I can’t believe it,” she said.

“It’s true, though. Trent may have been waiting for Susannah for ten years. But I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. Please say yes, Josie. Say you’ll come back to the Double C.”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to be sensible. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and drive off with him into the sunset. But she’d thrown caution to the winds once before, and look where that got her.

“I love you, Chase. I know that what I feel for you is real. But it’s not just about me. I need to think of the baby, and the future. I have to be so careful.”

He put his hand against her stomach. It was so warm and strong. She leaned into it instinctively. “When you first came to me, you thought I was your baby’s father. Help me to make that come true. Let me be there for both of you, as a husband and a daddy, starting today—and lasting the rest of our lives.”

“But—” she searched his face, looking for the truth “—are you really sure?”

“Absolutely.” He leaned in and kissed her once, lightly. “I love you, Josie.” He kissed her again. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone in my life.”

The words went through her like a shimmer of sunlight. She smiled, and he kissed her yet again.

“More than your first wife, the legendary beauty?”

He laughed. “Yes, but that doesn’t prove anything. She was also a legendary witch.”

“More than all the pretty cowgirls I saw you dancing with at Susannah’s party?”

“More than all of them,” he said, kissing her more deeply this time. “And their sisters and cousins, too.”

“Hmm.” She wanted more kisses, so she had to think of more tests. “More than Big Muddies, and Imogene’s hash browns? More than your truck?”

“You are food and drink to me now,” he said, and proved it by nibbling softly on her lower lip. “And I’d drive the truck into Clayton Creek if you asked me to.”

“Ahh…” She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “More than Yipster, the world’s nicest dog?”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” He laughed out loud. “If you really want to test me, I know what we can do. Let’s buy a new puppy for the baby, and then, in ten or fifteen years, you can ask me again.”

Ten or fifteen years…

Well, it was a start.

She caught a glimpse of her mother on the back porch. She was wringing her hands, looking distressed. Then Josie saw why. Her stepfather was standing right behind her mother. His face was tight and disapproving.

“I have an even better test,” she whispered. “My stepfather is about three more kisses away from storming out here and asking you what your intentions are.”

Chase gave the porch a glance, then turned his gaze back to her. “My intentions are to marry you, and, if I can, to make ours the happiest family in Texas. He never loved you enough, Josie. But that’s all right, because I intend to love you too much.”

“You’re actually going to tell him that?”

“I can’t wait.” He lowered his lips to hers. “So let’s get him out here. Let’s get started on those three kisses, Josie. Let’s get started on forever.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-0596-7

TEXAS BABY