Sex. Who was he trying to fool? The union they’d just shared had been far more than physical. It had touched him somewhere deep inside and now all he wanted to do was gather her close and let his heart sing with joyous wonder.
He was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
That dire thought was suddenly interrupted as she stirred and nuzzled her nose against the side of his neck. He slipped his arm around her waist and snugged her next to his damp body.
“You never did turn off the lamp.”
After the wild, stormy ride the two of them had just taken together, her observation caused him to chuckle.
Resting his cheek against the crown of her head, he said, “I didn’t have the time. Besides, I like being able to see you.”
Her fingertips created tiny circles across his chest and he wondered why her hands felt so magical whenever and wherever she touched him.
Her voice drowsy, she said, “I dreaded for you to see me without my clothes. But you know what, after a bit I didn’t care.”
“I think somewhere in that remark you were giving me a compliment.”
“I am,” she said. “You made me forget my imperfections.”
He caught her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips. After he’d kissed each one, he said, “I don’t know how you see yourself, Emily-Ann. But I see you as lovely and womanly and everything a man could want.”
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments. But—” she tilted her head in order to plant a kiss on his jaw “—I’ll take them and wrap them up with a bow and put them away in my dresser. I might need them later when I’m looking in the mirror.”
Smiling, he rubbed his cheek against the side of her head. “Oh, Emily-Ann, you’re so—”
“Silly?”
“No. I was thinking more like precious.” He turned her face to his and as he looked into her eyes, fear suddenly niggled the back of his mind.
He was feeling too much, he told himself, and thinking things that he had no business thinking. Getting this close to Emily-Ann was like asking for trouble. But he wasn’t going to dwell on the danger now, not when everything about her made him feel so good.
“Tag, you don’t have to say all these nice things to me,” she said. “I don’t expect that from you.”
He inwardly winced. “I never thought you did. But I need to say them. And maybe someday you’ll realize I actually mean them.”
Doubt shrouded her green eyes and he was amazed at how much he wanted to take the dark shadows away. And stunned even more to realize how much he wanted her to believe in him.
A vulnerable quiver touched her bottom lip. “I want to believe them, Tag. I want to believe everything about this night.”
He pushed his fingers into the hair at her temple and stroked the silky strands away from her face.
“I’m glad,” he whispered. “Because it’s far from over.”
The tremble to her lips stopped as the corners tilted upward. “Just so I get to work at Conchita’s by six thirty in the morning.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “I’ll give you enough time to make the drive.”
Her provocative laugh had him laughing along with her and with a hand on her waist, he rolled the both of them over, until he was lying on his back and her warm body was draped over his.
And when she lowered her head and covered his mouth with hers, Taggart realized he wanted to believe everything about this night, too.
* * *
Two days later, Emily-Ann had closed up the coffee shop and was climbing into her car to drive home when Camille’s truck pulled up behind her.
Sticking her head out the window, her friend called out to her, “Not so fast! I just got here!”
Giving her a cheery wave, Emily-Ann left the side of the car and walked over to greet Camille.
“What are you doing in town so late in the evening?” she asked, as Camille climbed down from the truck cab.
“Mother sent me after a few personal items she needed from the drugstore. Personally, I think she sent me on this mission to give me a chance to see you.”
“Oh, she thought you needed someone other than relatives for company?”
“Something like that.” She glanced over Emily-Ann’s shoulder to see she’d already hung the closed sign on the door of the coffee shop. “Were you on your way home? Or were you going somewhere?”
“Home. I have another test to do tomorrow and it deals with chemistry. I’ve been studying between customers, but I need some uninterrupted time to study if I ever expect to pass.” Plus, it was damned hard to keep her mind on chemical equations when all she really wanted to think about was Taggart and how the night at his house had changed everything.
Camille groaned with disappointment. “Don’t you have time to go to the Broken Spur for a milkshake?”
Emily-Ann frowned. “No more milkshakes for me—I’m cutting back. And why do you want to go to that old café on the outskirts of town? There’s a fast-food place a couple of streets over from here where you can get a milkshake.”
Camille’s short burst of laughter was a mocking sound. “Are you joking? The Broken Spur might be a little ratty on the inside, but the food is great. Makes me feel right at home like I’m in my own diner. And they make their milkshakes by hand one at a time. With real ice cream.”
Chuckling, Emily-Ann affectionately patted Camille’s protruding belly. “And the little guy is growing. He deserves the real thing.”
“Darned right,” Camille agreed. “So what do you say? I won’t keep you for more than thirty minutes. I need to get back to the ranch soon anyway. Mom wants this new lipstick I picked up for her. Uncle Gil is taking her out to dinner tonight.”
Emily-Ann’s looked at her with interest. “Really? Is she calling it a date?”
Camille shrugged. “I don’t know what Mom is calling the outing, but I can tell you that she’s awfully excited about it.”
“Aww, that’s so romantic,” Emily-Ann replied, then suddenly realized that kind of remark might not go over well with Camille. “Sorry, Camille. I spoke before I thought. You might not want to think of your mother having a romantic evening.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ve already told you that I want Mother to be happy. And if that means having Uncle Gil in her life, then that’s okay, too.”
“Not all children feel as generous toward their parent as you do.”
Camille smiled wistfully. “How could I want to deny her the pleasure of loving someone when I have so much with Matthew?”
“True. And you don’t have to worry about Gil being like Gorman, thank God,” she said, then called over her shoulder as she started to her car, “Okay. Let me get my purse and we’ll go to the Broken Spur. I’ll have an ice tea while you enjoy real ice cream.”
Camille drove the two of them to the far south side of town where the old Broken Spur building sat on the edge of the highway that led to Phoenix. The place was usually full of old cowboys and construction workers and today was no different, Emily-Ann decided, as she and Camille sat in a corner booth, sipping their drinks.
“Camille, I swear, each time I see you it’s like your face is glowing. Have you found some sort of miracle moisturizer, or something?”
Camille chuckled. “When a woman gets overloaded with hormones, she not only cries, but she has much nicer skin. This glow will go away once I have little junior or baby princess.”
Emily-Ann sighed. For the past few years she’d watched the Hollister women give birth to several babies and each time she’d been very happy for them. And when she’d heard that Camille was expecting Matthew’s child, she’d been thrilled for her friend. Yet she’d never really allowed herself to dwell on the idea of having her own children. The notion had never seemed to fit her life. Not without a good man in it. But now, after making lov
e to Taggart, she was imagining herself more and more with a baby.
“Actually, I’d better fess up,” Camille went on. “Mother did want the new lipstick for tonight, but she also sent me into town on a nosy, fact-finding mission. And I agreed because I’m really curious, too.”
Emily-Ann asked blankly, “Curious about what? I didn’t know anything new had been happening around here.”
Her expression innocent, Camille stirred the straw through the creamy strawberry milkshake. “According to Isabelle something has been happening. She told Holt that Tag cooked supper for you the other night. And you know Holt, you’d have to duct tape his mouth before he could keep it shut.”
Emily-Ann couldn’t stop a pink blush from coloring her cheeks. “Well, no need to beat up Holt. It’s not like we were trying to be secretive or anything.”
Camille’s blue eyes were suddenly sparkling with interest and she leaned earnestly across the tabletop toward Emily-Ann. “Good. I want to hear all about it. So does Mother.”
Maureen had always been like a second mother to Emily-Ann, but she couldn’t remember a time that the woman had actually been interested in her dates.
“Why is she interested? The dinner was—well, just a casual outing.”
“Do you want your nose to look like a carrot?” She grimaced. “With fibs like that it’s going to.”
Emily-Ann shifted uncomfortably on the padded vinyl covering the booth bench. There was no way she could tell her friend that she’d experienced something with Taggart that had been totally magical and life changing for her. She’d not had any idea that having sex with a man could make her feel so wanted and loved and needed. She’d not known that she was capable of feeling that much pleasure or that much emotion. But she had. And two days later she still didn’t know where their relationship was headed or what any of it might mean on down the line.
“Okay, I’ll admit it was more than special.” Shaking her head, she momentarily closed her eyes. “Camille, I never thought—well, can you imagine a man like Taggart cooking supper for me? If it hadn’t actually happened it would be downright laughable.”
“Why?”
Emily-Ann’s eyes flew wide. “Why? Are you kidding? Think about it, Camille. I’m the girl that was fed a sandwich from a convenience store for her twenty-seventh birthday and I had to eat that meal sitting in the car in the parking lot because my date had an aversion to picnic tables. I’ve never been treated as nicely as Taggart treats me.”
A wide smile came over Camille’s face and she reached across the table and squeezed Emily-Ann’s hand. “That’s wonderful.”
Emily-Ann let out a heavy breath. “I’m not so sure if it is or not.”
“Now who’s sounding like they’ve slipped a cog or two?”
“I realize that sounds crazy. But that’s because you don’t understand, Camille. When something or someone as good as Taggart comes along in my life I’m fairly certain I’m destined to end up a loser—again. He’s not going to want to invest much more time in me. And he especially won’t want to invest any true emotion.”
“That’s an awful thing to say, Emily-Ann. Don’t you think you’re doing Taggart a discredit by thinking that way?”
Emily-Ann sighed again. “I’m trying to be practical about this, Camille. He—uh—he’s already told me he doesn’t think he can make a long-term commitment to me—or any woman. You see, he—” Unsure as to whether she should say more, Emily-Ann paused and glanced down at the tabletop. “Well, let’s just say he’s not looking for love.”
“Don’t most men say those things? Matthew tried his best to run from me. But in the end he decided that marrying me was a chance he had to take.”
Grimacing, Emily-Ann lifted her tea glass and drew on the straw. “Yes, well, Matthew had good reason to be gun-shy. He’d been through a divorce. And Taggart has good reason to be leery of loving again. He—” Pausing, she shook her head, then seeing Camille was waiting for her to continue, she said, “I’m not sure I should be repeating this. But he didn’t ask me to keep it a secret.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything private about you and Taggart. Not unless you want to,” Camille assured her.
The thought of what he’d gone through had continued to revolve through her mind, haunting her with images of his loss and pain.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “Maybe he’s told Blake or someone in your family about this. I don’t know. He didn’t say. But he was married once—years ago. His wife and unborn child were killed in a car accident.”
Camille looked genuinely stricken. “Oh, how completely horrible.”
“Yes. And not only that, his mother died three months later. From what he told me, he was very close to her and losing all of them so close together has sort of warped his heart, I guess you’d say.”
“No doubt. But time heals. We both know that. And none of that means he’s incapable of falling in love again—with you,” Camille argued. “After all, what man couldn’t fall in love with you?”
The absurdity of Camille’s question caused Emily-Ann to laugh outright. “Oh, sure. Men have been knocking down my door for years,” she said with sarcastic humor.
“Well, you have one on your doorstep now. A good one. What do you intend to do about it? Mother happens to believe you and Taggart make a perfect match. Should I tell her that you think so, too?”
Emily-Ann groaned, then looked across the room to where a row of men sat at a worn bar eating pie and drinking coffee. The image reminded her even more of Taggart scarfing up the pecan pie that Reeva had made for him. He’d eaten the dessert with the same enthusiasm he’d made love to her.
Swallowing hard, she turned her gaze back to Camille. “Tell your mother that it’s going to take more than a bridal bouquet for Taggart to fall in love with me.”
* * *
The horses were tired, prompting Taggart and Matthew to pull them to a slow walk as they traveled the last half mile back to the ranch yard.
“The grass is looking good,” Matthew said. “The cows are all settled where they need to be and the branding and vaccinating is all finished. I think it’s about time Camille and I head back home to Red Bluff. You have everything under control here.”
Taggart let out a cynical grunt, but his reaction had very little to do with being foreman of Three Rivers Ranch. He could truthfully say he felt confident about his job, with or without Matthew here to guide him. But as for his personal life, it was totally out of control.
Even if taking Emily-Ann into his bed had been the most incredible experience he’d ever had, it was still a stupid mistake on his part. He should’ve known that once he touched her, he’d only want more. He should’ve known that he couldn’t just have sex with her, then walk away. No. She was meant to be made love to and he was very much afraid that’s exactly what he’d done. Now his brain, his heart, his very being was consumed with her. And he didn’t have a clue as to what he was going to do about it.
“I can’t speak for Camille, but I’d be willing to say you’ll be glad to get back to your own ranch.”
This time it was Matthew who grunted. “For years, if anyone had told me I’d be looking forward to leaving Three Rivers for Red Bluff, I would’ve considered them crazy. Three Rivers was my very lifeblood. But things change. Most of the time in ways a man never expects.”
Taggart understood that only too well. And in his own case, the changes weren’t good. “Guess you’re talking about your wife now,” he said, as he absently flipped the ends of the split reins back and forth across the cantle of the saddle.
“Yeah. Nothing would mean much of anything without her and the coming baby. I’m building Red Bluff for them.”
“Must be nice.”
“Nice, hell. The feeling it gives me is impossible to describe.” He glanced over at Taggart. “And frankly, I never imagined myself b
eing this blessed. Sometimes it’s scary because I never had much in the way of family. My mother died when my sister and I were young. After that we were sent to live with an uncle that was a real bastard. Finding the Hollisters and loving Camille is sometimes too good to believe. You understand what I’m trying to say.”
“More than you could know, Matthew. My mother died, too, when I was in my midtwenties. And Dad—he’s not worth talking about. I don’t have a loving wife to share things with, but landing here on Three Rivers is more than I ever expected in my life.”
“Yeah. I guess being here does feel pretty good to you.”
Making his home on Three Rivers and being with Emily-Ann had changed his life drastically. And those good changes were scary. But he wasn’t a timid little calf, afraid to follow his mama to greener pastures, Taggart mentally argued with himself. Sure, he’d suffered through some tragedies, but he’d come out on the other side a bit wiser and hopefully stronger. And a man couldn’t go forward if he continually held on to the past.
“It feels damned good, Matthew,” he finally replied.
For the next few minutes, the two men rode on down the well-trodden cattle trail in companionable silence until Matthew abruptly pulled his horse to a stop and climbed down from the saddle.
Taggart reined his buckskin next to Matthew’s horse. “Anything wrong?” he asked.
“No. I’ll be right back.”
He walked a few steps off the trail and snapped off a long bough of blooming sage. After he climbed back into the saddle, he looked over at Taggart and grinned.
“Camille loves this stuff. It grows everywhere like annoying weeds, but she thinks it’s beautiful and special. Go figure.” He held up the branch with silver-green leaves and tiny purple blooms. “This will make her happy.”
“You’re a smart guy, Matthew.”
The other man chuckled as he nudged his horse into a walk. “Not smart enough.”
The Texan Tries Again (Men 0f The West Book 44) Page 14