The Texan Tries Again

by Stella Bagwell

Her question elicited a cynical snort from him.

  “No. Her husband—my father, Buck O’Brien was the chronic problem. To put it plainly, the man was a selfish bully. He did his best to keep her and us kids browbeaten. He made her life pure hell. And me and my sister—we just clung to Mom and tried to stay invisible.”

  This was the first time she’d ever heard such bitterness in his voice and, though it was an ugly sound, she could understand where it was coming from. She’d had plenty of experience dealing with the negative emotion and knew firsthand that once it took root inside a person, it was hard to push aside.

  “Were your parents married when she passed away?” Emily-Ann ventured to ask.

  His gaze left King to settle on her face. “Oh, yes. At that time he’d been scrounging around the area between Canyon and Hereford taking on little construction jobs wherever he could find them. He was working as a carpenter during that time, but that was only when he really wanted to work. Mom was the one who paid the bills and kept things afloat for them. Not him. She had a bookkeeping job at the same feeder lot where I worked tending cattle.”

  Emily-Ann shook her head. “Gorman, my stepfather, was mostly shiftless, too. But in most other ways he was very kind to Mother. So I can sort of understand why she loved him and remained married to him. But if your father was actually mean to your mother, why didn’t she divorce him?”

  Sighing, he gently trailed his forefinger over the back of her hand and down each of her fingers. “I can’t answer that, Emily-Ann. Maybe because the choices she made were something only a woman could understand. Or maybe because I’ve never been in love like that—where a person is blinded to the other’s faults. I often wanted to blame it on the fact that she was insecure. She didn’t think she could survive without him. But in truth, she would’ve made it so much better on her own.”

  Losing her mother had knocked Emily-Ann flat and it had taken her a long time to pull herself together and move forward. She’d often heard that losing a mother was even harder for a man to deal with. Whether that was true or not, she could tell, just from the pain in his voice, that Taggart had suffered deep grief.

  “Your mother didn’t want to be on her own, Tag. Just like mine didn’t want to be,” she reasoned, then asked, “What happened with your father after Carolyn died? You mentioned that you don’t see him often, but does he still live in that part of Texas?”

  “He comes and goes. My sister and I never really know when he’s going to leave or show up. Usually when we see him it’s because he wants money.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “The man asks his children for money? That would take some gall.”

  “He’s got that in spades,” Taggart said, his voice heaped with sarcasm.

  She turned her hand over and wrapped her fingers tightly around his. “When I first met you, Tag, I would’ve never guessed that our lives were similar. We both lost our mothers and we both suffered because of the choices they made in their lives.”

  “Yes. But there’s more to mine, Emily-Ann. I—uh—”

  When he faltered, then failed to say anything more, she prompted, “You what?”

  His gaze continued to delve deep into hers until she thought he was going to ignore her question completely. And then a long breath rushed out of him and he said, “I’ve been married.”

  Stunned, she stared at him while questions darted wildly through her mind. “Married? I suppose that means you’re divorced?”

  Pressing the toe of his boot against the floor of the porch, he paused the gentle movement of the swing.

  “No,” he said. “It means I’m a widower.”

  Her gasp was so loud that King lifted his head and looked at her.

  “A widower,” she repeated blankly, then shook her head. “You were married and your wife died?”

  “No, she didn’t just die. She wrecked the car she was driving and it killed her and our unborn child.”

  His revelation struck her so hard that her stomach made a sickening roll. “Oh. Oh my, Tag. I—don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” he said wryly. “I just—felt like it was time that I told you about Becca and the baby. I thought that—well, you ought to know why I’ve been shy about getting involved with you.”

  Several years ago some things happened in my life that changed everything for me.

  The words he’d spoken to her that night when he’d come to her house were suddenly skipping through the forefront of her mind. His comment hadn’t made complete sense to her then, but it was becoming clear now.

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I thought your reluctance was all about me—not meeting your standards.”

  “That was stupid thinking on your part, Emily-Ann. You meet all my standards and more. I think that’s why—when I look at you—when I’m with you like this, I get so scared I can hardly breathe. I tell myself that I can’t take another chance with a woman. But then when I’m away from you, I hurt to be back with you.”

  Agony was wrapped around his every word. It knotted his voice and twisted his rugged features. She wanted to take it all away. She wanted to slip her arms around him and assure him that tragedy wasn’t likely to strike twice. But she couldn’t move, or think beyond the notion that he’d been in love with another woman. So much so that he’d married her. That the two of them had been expecting a child together.

  “I—how long ago did this happen?” she finally managed to ask.

  “Ten years ago. I was twenty-one when I first met Becca and turned twenty-two when we got married. She was two months pregnant when we stood before the county judge and exchanged vows. She didn’t want to get married then. She wanted to wait until the baby was born. She didn’t want folks thinking I’d married her because I had to.”

  Emily-Ann couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Did you?”

  “No. I mean, yes, I did feel obligated when I’d learned she was pregnant, but no one was holding a gun to my back. I believed I loved her.”

  Emily-Ann’s brows lifted as she watched his features twist even tighter. “You believed? You weren’t sure?”

  He groaned. “Back then I thought I was sure about my feelings for her—about getting married and everything that went with that decision. Looking back on it all, I don’t know. We were so young. I did care for her deeply and the baby—I was a little scared at becoming responsible for a child, but I wanted it. Wanted it with all my heart. But four months after we married, they were both gone from my life.”

  Oh God, Emily-Ann thought sickly. How could she ever expect to compete with the ghost of his wife and unborn child? Ten years had passed and he was still tortured over losing them.

  “Four months. You’d hardly begun your married life together. You must have felt like your whole world was turned upside down.”

  “To be honest, I was so numb everyone around me was probably thinking I’d turned into a zombie. And then just about the time I was beginning to wake up and start living again, Mom was struck by the heart attack. All of it together just about wiped me out.”

  The mere thought of the grief he’d gone through squeezed her heart with pain. “I can only imagine,” she murmured.

  His eyes softened and then his fingers gently smoothed the hair at her temple. “It was a bad, bad time,” he admitted. “But now—meeting you has made everything different for me. You’re the first woman since Becca that I’ve ever really wanted—or needed.”

  Wanted. Needed. But not loved.

  Even as the thought zipped through her brain, she realized it was wrong of her to think it. She and Taggart hadn’t known each other that long. She couldn’t expect him to fall instantly in love with her. Actually, she was crazy to think he would ever fall in love with her. But tonight, as he’d talked about his grief and shared things about his life that he probably never shared with others, she’d fe
lt closer to him than she’d ever felt to any man.

  “I understand that you’re afraid to try again. But you needn’t feel alone, Tag. I’m just as afraid as you are. But I—” Feeling more emboldened than she had a right to be, she wrapped her hands over his forearms and pressed her fingers into his warm flesh. “I’m willing to take a chance that you’re not purposely setting out to break my heart.”

  He groaned. “Oh, Emily-Ann, I—that would never be my intention.” Reaching up, he gently touched a forefinger to the center of her lips. “You’ve already had too much pain and hurt in your life. And so have I.”

  The cold fear around her heart began to melt and spread warmth to every part of her body. And then with her gaze locked on his, she placed a soft butterfly kiss upon his finger.

  He whispered her name and then he was drawing her into his arms and lowering his mouth down to hers.

  He’d kissed her before and each time the intimate contact had shaken her, but this time was different. This time she felt a connection that was boundless and far too strong to break.

  By the time he eventually lifted his head and looked down at her, Emily-Ann was not only breathless, she was totally on fire for him.

  “I think it’s time we—uh—went in. Don’t you?”

  Without hesitating, she nodded and he quickly rose to his feet and helped her up from the swing. Then with his hand wrapped tightly around hers, he led her into the house and down a dark hallway until they passed through a door on the left.

  “Wait here and I’ll turn on a lamp,” he said as they stepped just inside the dark room.

  Emily-Ann stood where she was and while she waited for him to cross the room and deal with the light, she could feel her heart beating hard and heavy in her chest. Not with the fear of what they were about to do, but the concern that he might find her terribly disappointing. If that happened, she’d most likely never see him again.

  If sex is all he wants from you, Emily-Ann, then you don’t need him.

  A soft light suddenly glowed at the head of a queen-size bed and then Taggart turned and smiled at her. And that was all it took to send the taunting voice, along with every other doubt, flying out of her head.

  “Don’t look at all the boxes that still need to be unpacked,” he said.

  Emily-Ann didn’t bother glancing around at the room. Her focus was zeroed on him as she walked over and slipped her arms around his waist.

  “Who cares about boxes?” she asked, turning her lips up to his.

  Growling with need, he bent his head and kissed her. “All I care about is you. And this.”

  While his lips feasted on hers, his hand reached to the back of her dress and tugged on the zipper until it reached the bottom. Emily-Ann dropped her arms and allowed the fabric to slide over her shoulders and onto the floor. Cool air wafted over her half-naked body, but before it had a chance to chill her skin, he was lifting her off her feet and placing her in the middle of the bed.

  Once she was settled, he stepped back and with hungry eyes she watched him remove his clothing. By the time he got down to a pair of black boxers and climbed onto the bed to join her, Emily-Ann knew her fate for tonight was sealed. Even if a thousand horses suddenly stampeded through the bedroom, she couldn’t have left his side to save herself.

  Chapter Nine

  His body already on fire for her, Taggart rolled Emily-Ann into his arms and buried his face in the side of her neck. She smelled sweet and mysterious and the scent acted on his senses as much as the feel of her soft skin beneath his lips.

  Making love to Emily-Ann had been in the back of his mind almost from the very first time he’d met her. But he’d not thought it would actually happen tonight. He’d hoped, but not believed.

  Now that she was in his arms, her bare skin sliding against his, her sighs whispering across his ear, he was half-afraid he was going to wake up from a beautiful dream and find he was still in a bedroll out on the range.

  “Aren’t you going to turn out the light?” she asked.

  Lifting his head slightly away from hers, he looked down to see her lashes were partially lowered over drowsy green eyes, while her oh-so-soft lips were already swollen from his kisses. She looked utterly fascinating. Especially to a man who only a few weeks ago believed his libido had crawled away to die.

  “In a bit. Right now I want to be able to see you—how beautiful you look lying on this old quilt with your red hair spilled everywhere.” He slipped his fingers beneath the lacy white straps of her bra and slid them downward until they fell onto her arms and the fleshy mounds of her breasts spilled over the loosened cups of her bra. “And I have a feeling you’re going to look even better without these pretty little pieces of lace.”

  Her breathless little laugh was self-mocking. “There’s nothing little about me or my lingerie.”

  “Everything about you is perfect to me, Emily-Ann. From the freckles on your nose to your rounded bottom.”

  She chuckled. “You’re crazy.”

  “If I am, then please don’t try to fix me. I want to stay this way.”

  At the middle of her back, he unfastened her bra, then tossed the whole thing aside. The pale pink nipples of her breasts beckoned to him and, cupping his hands around the soft fullness, he bent his head to taste the rosy centers.

  In a matter of seconds, she was making mewing sounds deep in her throat, while her body arched up to his. Her wordless plea for relief didn’t go unnoticed. He quickly peeled off her panties and tossed them atop her dress on the floor.

  When his finger found the intimate folds between her thighs, it was hot and moist and waiting just for him. Watching her face, he slipped inside and reveled at the softness he was touching, the longing he saw gripping her features.

  Slowly, he stroked her until her hips were writhing against his hand and his own body was on the verge of exploding.

  “Tag, oh Tag. Don’t make me wait to have you.”

  Moving away from her, he stood and pushed off his boxers. His manhood was throbbing to be inside her and yet a part of him was reluctant to make the ultimate connection. Once he entered her, it would be the beginning of the end, and he didn’t want that to happen. Not when each second of being with her like this was awakening every cell in his body.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  Shaking away his thoughts, he pulled open the drawer in the nightstand, then frowned. “No. It’s just now dawned on me that I might not have any condoms. I—they’re not something—I have much need for.”

  She must’ve heard the embarrassment in his voice, because suddenly she was sitting on the side of the bed, reaching for his hand.

  “No need to worry. I take the pill. Everything should be fine. Unless you’re worried about—other things.”

  He looked at her while wishing they didn’t have to discuss such an awkward subject.

  “If you’re worried,” he said. “I can tell you that I’ve not had unprotected sex since I was married.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ve never had unprotected sex.”

  The impish smile on her face made all the clumsiness of the moment go away and with a wicked chuckle, he eased her back down on the bed.

  “Then we don’t have a thing to worry about—except making this our night,” he said.

  Her eyes sparkling like stars, she reached up and linked her hands at the back of his neck, then drew his mouth down to hers. Taggart kissed her softly over and over until the need to deepen the kiss was as strong as the need to join his body to hers.

  As soon as her mouth opened to accept his tongue, his knee parted her thighs and he entered her with one smooth thrust.

  A moan vibrated deep in her throat and her hands tightened on his shoulders, but other than that, she went stock-still beneath him.

  The reaction caused him to lift his head and he was
stunned to see tears slipping from the corners of her eyes and roll into the edge of her hair.

  Uncertain, he whispered, “Emily-Ann, do you want to end this now?”

  Her hands reached up and gently cradled his face and all he could see in her eyes was a longing so deep and tender that it caused a wave of emotion to flood the center of his chest.

  “Oh, Tag, I never want this to end,” she murmured. “I want you so much. So much.”

  He struggled to push his words past the tight cords in his throat, but when they did finally release, relief poured out with them. “And I want you, sweet Emily-Ann. More than you could know.”

  Lowering his head, he kissed the tears away from each corner of her eyes, then moved his mouth to hers.

  The moment their lips connected, she arched her hips up to his, drawing him deeper inside her. Sensations such as he had never experienced shot at him from all directions and wiped his mind of everything but her. Having her, loving her.

  Her legs wrapped around his and she instantly began to match his rhythmic thrusts. After that, his mind became a blur as his senses tried to absorb everything at once. The hot smoothness of her skin against his, the womanly scent that swirled around him, the sweetness of her lips and the yielding of her body as she gave everything up to him.

  Time became nonexistent for Taggart. All he knew was that he didn’t want the euphoria to end. He couldn’t allow it to end. But she thwarted his plans when she began to writhe in abandon and her fingers raced frantically across his back, then down to his hips.

  When she urged him to quicken the pace, it was more than his brain could stand and the rest of his body had no choice but to surrender. Suddenly and totally, he was blinded by a shower of shooting stars and then he was clutching her tightly to him, crying her name and letting the undulating waves of passion overtake him.

  * * *

  This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, Taggart thought a few minutes later, as he drew Emily-Ann’s warm limp body next to his. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling all mushy and enchanted just because he’d had sex with a woman.