“But I don’t want to live with her!” There was a note of cornered desperation in the child’s voice that brought tears to Angel’s eyes.
“You live here,” was all she could say as she picked up the child and rocked her. Beth Ann threw small arms around Angel’s neck and squeezed with all her strength. Over the little girl’s head, she saw Day standing in the doorway, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Forever?” Beth Ann demanded.
He stepped forward, laying one big hand soothingly on his daughter’s back. “Forever,” he confirmed.
“Daddy!” Beth Ann reached for him, her fears apparently allayed. “Angel and me are ready to get married now.”
He took her from Angel’s arms and settled her comfortably in one arm before extending his other to Angel. “Then let’s go make it official.”
Eight
They drove into Deming. On the way to the courthouse, Day pulled into the parking lot of a florist’s shop. “Be back in a minute,” he promised. And he was. As he climbed back into the sedan that he’d taken out of the garage that morning, he tossed several items into her lap. “Here. There’s something for everybody.”
“What’s this?” She stared in surprise at the blossoms filling her lap as pleasure bloomed in her chest. There were two bouquets of fragrant white roses and lilies of the valley accented by dark, waxy leaves and cascading ferns. One was done in miniature and she handed it back over the seat to Beth Ann. “Look, honey. Daddy brought us flowers.”
“Pretty, Daddy. Thank you,” the little girl added when Angel slanted her a meaningful glance over her shoulder.
Day looked amused when she turned back to him. “These are beautiful,” she said softly, so touched that she could barely speak. “Thank you.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think the dull red crawling up his neck was embarrassment. “You’re welcome,” he said without turning his head toward her again. “There’s a flower in a little bag there for my lapel, too.”
When they arrived at the courthouse, she found that he wasn’t finished with surprises. Waiting to greet them in the hallway was a familiar figure.
“Aunt Dulcie!” squealed Beth Ann, running ahead of them to be scooped up. “We didn’t knowed you were here.”
“It was a last-minute decision,” Dulcie said, smiling at Angel over Beth Ann’s head.
“I’m so glad you came.” Angel felt tears pricking at the backs of her eyes and she smiled tremulously as she hugged her friend. “It means a lot to have you with us today.” She didn’t like the way Dulcie looked, even more thin and pale than she’d been at the ranch, but she sensed from the brittle, determined smile that Dulcie gave her that there would be no explanations today.
“It’s time.” Day took her hand and started toward the chamber where the civil ceremony was to be conducted, leaving Dulcie to follow with Beth Ann.
As they stepped inside, the judge welcomed them, then gestured to a man waiting to one side. “The photographer is waiting, Mr. Kincaid.”
A photographer? Angel turned to Day, stretching on tiptoe to press a spontaneous kiss against his jaw, but at the last minute, he turned his head and caught her mouth with his own.
Her body caught fire in that special way only he could ignite and she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. He settled his hands at her waist, pulling her even closer for a moment. “Spontaneous combustion,” he said against her lips before drawing back. “Let’s hold that thought for about twelve hours.”
She smiled, giddy with happiness, awash with her love for him. “Gladly.”
She hadn’t expected to be overwhelmed by the vows. After all, she’d been married before. She knew exactly how little those solemn sentences could mean to a man. And she had no illusions about the exact nature of Day’s need for her. The L-word didn’t figure in there anywhere.
Still, when she spoke the phrases of commitment and heard his deep voice repeating the same words, she was moved. When he slipped the simple gold band onto her ring finger, she realized that it was already warm from his flesh. Her heart cried out in unexpected protest. This should be real.
And when he gathered her close to seal their pledges with a kiss, she responded with her entire being. If this wasn’t forever, she’d make every memory count.
The entire ceremony took only minutes, not even long enough for Beth Ann to get squirmy. Afterward, the witnesses signed the marriage certificate and they posed for a few pictures with the photographer. Then Day said, “Lunchtime. I made reservations for us at—”
“Not for me,” Dulcie said quickly. “I have to get back to Albuquerque.”
“But you just got here,” Angel protested. “You can leave right after lunch.”
“Sorry.” Dulcie shook her head. “I really have to get going.” She embraced Angel. “Thank you for doing this,” she whispered. For a moment, Angel didn’t understand. With comprehension came a distinct let-down feeling. Day must have told Dulcie the circumstances surrounding this marriage. Though she couldn’t fault him, the knowledge deflated her happiness as Dulcie hugged her brother with hasty but sincere congratulations, then turned to Beth Ann. “C’mon, Bethie. You can come with me out to the car.”
When she and the child had moved down the hall a little way, Angel glanced at Day. He was watching his sister’s back with intense concentration and she seized the chance to avoid any more personal discussion. “She seems... fragile right now.”
He was still staring at his sister. “That lousy husband of hers uses her for a doormat. But she can’t see it.” He squared his shoulders. “And I can’t seem to do anything about it. She has to manage her own life now.” He offered her his arm, shaking off his concern and grinning at her. “Let’s go. I have to find a drugstore before we leave town again.”
“By all means, let’s not forget that detail.” She forced herself to smile back. She’d made this bed herself, knowing fully the realities of loving him. She couldn’t complain about lying in it—even if it didn’t include the love she craved.
* * *
Tonight couldn’t come fast enough for him. As soon as they’d put Beth Ann to bed, he took Angel’s hand and led her down the hall. Forcing himself to move slowly, he closed the bedroom door behind them and flipped on the monitor that was connected to his daughter’s room. Then he turned to her.
“It seems like I’ve been wanting you forever,” he said. She didn’t speak, but her features smoothed into a soft smile in the moonlight that shone through the two windows. They had both changed into everyday clothing when they’d returned home from the wedding lunch, and he raised his hands to the snaps that ran down the front of her shirt. “May I?”
Slowly she nodded.
His mouth was dry. He was shocked to notice that his hands were trembling. When had it become so important to him to make sure this moment was perfect? True, he’d always enjoyed pleasing the women he’d bedded, but he couldn’t recall worrying about it before.
But no other woman had come close to being as important to him as Angel had.
The thought halted his fingers in the act of spreading open the shirt. It was easier to concentrate on her than to confront his own feelings, so he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers, finding tenderness the only acceptable way of expressing how he was feeling.
She tilted up her face, giving him easy access, and he lingered over her features, brushing kisses over an eyebrow here, a cheekbone there, the fine, pure line of her jaw.... The voice within him quieted. He’d thought of little else all day, besides having her naked and willing beneath him.... His body was already reacting to her, stirring to life with a vibrant intensity that caused his trembling fingers to fumble over the zip of her jeans. He drew back to look at what he was doing.
Soft, pale flesh gleamed between the opened panels of her shirt. Beneath it she was wearing a black bra that emphasized the full curves it contained. Her belt hung open, and as he drew down the zipper, a tiny swatch of black panty, cut higher than
could possibly be legal, sashayed into view.
His breath whistled out of his lungs. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He slipped his hands inside her shirt, palms against the soft curve of her waist, and held her loosely. Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, he slowly smoothed his hands up the sides of her torso, then moved them equally slowly back down again to the satiny feminine swell of her hips. His hands looked large and dark against her white skin.
Funny, he never thought of Angel as delicate, though seeing her here, now, she undoubtedly was. She had so much...presence. Nothing to do with her fame, but more an inner capability that he doubted she was aware she radiated. She’d helped with his household from the first day she’d been here, as if not doing so wasn’t even an option. Beth Ann had warmed up to her faster than he’d ever seen his daughter take to a stranger before, and Angel obviously returned the child’s affection.
At that moment, she put her hands against his cheeks, cradling his jaw. Every thought in his head went flying right out the window, along with any restraint he thought he might have.
Articles of clothing flew off in a fevered rush, discarded by fingers anxious to touch, to savor. When they both stood naked in the moonlight, he took her hand and led her to the wide bed, pulling back the covers and following her down. He stretched out on his side next to her and placed one palm low on her abdomen. “I want to be inside you.”
She swallowed, turning her face toward him. “All right.”
A bubble of frustrated laughter rose inside him, despite the desire raging through his system. “That was less than enthusiastic.”
She managed a smile, raising her hand to stroke down his chest, though he noticed she stopped well short of any dangerous territory. “I’m sorry. I want you, too. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
“Why?” He wanted nothing more than to submerge his senses in her, to forge forward, but more than that, he wanted her to be as wild for him as he felt right now about her.
Her gaze dropped away, and even in the darkness, the loss of contact bothered him. “It’s been...a long time since I had...a physical relationship with anyone.”
Her admission bothered him, but not because he was afraid of hurting her. Her husky words conjured up images in his head, scenes of Angel lying with some other man as she lay with him now. How many had there been? And what, to her, constituted a long time? Two weeks? Two months? A year?
He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to discuss her past. For now, he wanted to pretend that she belonged only to him. That he was the only man she’d ever known.
Dropping his head, he pressed a demanding kiss to her lips, searching, seeking out response until he found it. His hand moved in small circles across the fine skin of her belly and he lifted his mouth a fraction away from hers. “You don’t have to worry. I’m going to take good care of you.”
To prove his point, he kissed her again, then concentrated all his energies on arousing her. Slowly, sweetly, he touched his mouth to her throat, sliding it down the slim column onto the upper swell of her breasts, continuing on until his lips encircled an already tightly beaded nipple. One hand came up to fondle and play with the other breast until her hips began to shift restlessly back and forth. Triumph welled within him.
Keeping his mouth at her breast, he slowly smoothed his other hand down over the silken skin of her abdomen, pausing to trace the small dimple of her navel before making a steady foray below.
The tender folds of furred flesh were damp and warm; she drew in a quick, shocked breath when he stroked a gentle finger there, and turned her face into his neck. His body was screaming at him to take her, but he gritted his teeth and ignored his pounding pulse. He stroked her a second time, and she arched her heels into the mattress and gave a strangled cry.
With frantic fingers, he reached for the small package on the bedside table and covered his rigid flesh. Then, easing himself over her, he positioned himself at the humid entrance to her body. Her hips had stopped moving. Wanting to take her with him, he used his own hard length to stroke her without entering her, until her breath was coming in shallow gulps and her body was pushing up against him with every rhythmic beat.
“Please!” she whispered.
Triumph surged through him. Rearing back, he thrust forward, sheathing himself within her in a single strong stroke. Her hands and heels came up to wrap around him as her back arched again. He began to move, his whole body responding to the primal messages tingling through him. A force pressed against his spine; his body felt tense, taut, his skin too small for the flesh it contained.
Beneath him, she moaned and matched his wild riding. Suddenly her body stiffened and shook. He could feel her clasping him deep inside, her body repeating the intimate caress with a decreasing intensity that signaled release. Completely out of control, he followed her to a sweet peak of pleasure so sharp that for a few seconds it was nearly pain.
As relaxation winged through his sated body, he placed his hands at her jaw and turned her face to his for a consuming kiss.
* * *
Loving Day was both heaven and hell. It made each moment of the nights in his arms a sweet, wild memory that she stored in her heart for later.
Later. When she no longer had Day to chase away her loneliness with his lips. When Beth Ann could no longer come running, waving a picture book, expecting to be cuddled as they shared it together.
She couldn’t dwell on those thoughts or she’d go mad. In the days after Emmie’s adoption, she’d learned the art of acting for that very reason. She hadn’t needed any courses to teach her how to put on a front, a face that wasn’t hers. Pain was the best teacher there was.
She called on those skills now. Knowing how predictable the ranch routine was helped immeasurably. At night, she was Day’s lover, by morning, his helpmeet. When he left the house for the day’s work, she became Beth Ann’s mother. Then around dinnertime, she slipped back into the role of homemaker again, becoming lover only after darkness fell and the world was silent.
Day shed his public persona only in the privacy of their bedroom, so she followed suit. Kissing, touching, holding. Those things weren’t done in front of all the other people who were constantly underfoot around the ranch. Intimacies were conducted only in the dim light of the bedside lamp.
And what intimacies they were! Day was a demanding lover, calling responses from her long after she swore she had nothing left to give.
But he was also a careful lover. The cautiousness with which he always made sure she was protected saddened her, though she knew that reaction wasn’t logical or even particularly rational. Deep in her heart, she longed for this relationship to be lasting. She wanted to be here always, to age with him and to see Beth Ann grow up, but more than that, she wanted to give him a child they’d made together.
The thought startled her. When she’d found out she was pregnant with Jimmy’s child, she’d despaired. He was still a child himself—they hadn’t been ready for parenting. And after Jimmy had died, she’d made the entirely reasonable decision to give up the baby for adoption.
Rational. Sensible. Logical. And then Emmie had been born and all her reasons had flown out the window as the love for her little miracle had blossomed. The only thing that had held her to her plans had been the knowledge that as a widowed waitress she wouldn’t have had the time or the financial resources to give Emmie the love and security she deserved.
But this time it could be different. She had all the resources a woman could ever wish for, not only from her marriage but also because of the enormous success of her career.
If only her marriage wasn’t temporary.
One afternoon, five days into the marriage, she was helping Beth Ann make cookie-cutter shapes with modeling clay when the telephone rang.
She walked across the kitchen to the desk. “Red Arrow Ranch.”
“Is this Angelique Sumner?” It was a woman’s voice, smooth and confident.
She nearly dropped the ph
one. Angelique Sumner! “Who is this?” she asked with cautious dread.
“Penelope Rennolt with the Los Angeles Daily Sun. Is this Miss Sumner speaking?”
“No.” She didn’t even hesitate. “You must be mistaken. This is the Red Arrow Ranch.”
The reporter’s low laugh scraped across her nerves. “I don’t think there’s any mistake. Angelique Sumner Vandervere married New Mexico rancher, David Kincaid, a few days ago. Kincaid, who just happens to be the less-than-amicable ex-husband of Jada Barrington, owns the Red Arrow Ranch. So where else would he have stashed his blushing bride? Any comment? Is a honeymoon in the offing?”
Angel slammed down the phone so sharply that Beth Ann looked up with a frown. “Daddy does that when he talks to my other mommy,” she informed Angel. “Were you talking to Mommy?”
It was an effort to smile, to paste a natural expression on her face, when all she wanted to do was scream and yell and throw things. “No, honey,” she forced herself to say in a soft tone. “It wasn’t your mommy.” She walked back to the table and sat down. “Okay. We need to start cleaning up so we have time to read a story before nap time.”
She paced and puzzled the whole time the child slept. How had they found her? Had someone recognized her at the dance in Deming?
After Beth Ann awoke, Angel saddled the pretty mare Day had given her to ride, set the child before her in the saddle and rode out to get the mail. It would have been faster and easier to take the truck, but she needed something—anything—to occupy her until time to begin the dinner preparations. Beth Ann loved horseback rides and all her young energies were taken up with pretending she was guiding the mare, racing across the desert, zipping through the barrel-race event at the rodeo or roping a bawling calf. All Angel’s energies were occupied with keeping her on the horse.
When they reached the mailbox, Angel leaned down to pluck the mail and the newspaper from the roadside boxes. Mindful of Day’s warnings about Old Red, who was eyeing them from several hundred feet away, she stayed in the saddle with Beth Ann. Riding back to the barn, she was surprised to see Day’s horse in its stall.
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